nt, you
cannot be too shocked. Sometimes, however, the case is worse, and Evu
tries to sulk. She sits down solemnly on the ground, and throws her four
fat limbs about in a dreadful recklessness, supposed to strike the
grown-up offender dumb with awe and penitence. Sometimes she even tries
to put out her lower lip, but it was not made a suitable shape, for it
smiles in spite of itself; and then there is a sudden spring; and two
little arms are round your neck, and you are being told, if you know how
to listen, what a very tiresome thing it is to feel obliged to sin.
Then, with the comforting sense of irresponsible kittenhood fully
restored, Evu discovers some new diversion, and you find yourself weakly
wishing kittens need not grow into cats.

CHAPTER VI

Principalities, Powers, Rulers

IT may seem a quick transition from nursery to battle-field; but rightly
to understand this story, it must be remembered that our nursery is set
in the midst of the battle-field. It is a little sheltered place, where
no sound of war disturbs the babies at their play, and the flowers bloom
like the babies in happy unconsciousness of battles, and make a garden
for us and fill it full of peace; but underlying the babies' caresses
and the sweetness of the flowers there is always a sense of conflict
just over, or soon coming on. We "let the elastic go" in the nursery. We
are happy, light-hearted children with our children; sometimes we even
wonder at ourselves; and then remember that the happiness of the moment
is a pure, bright gift, not meant to be examined, but just enjoyed, and
we enjoy it as if there were no battles in the world or any sadness any
more.

And yet this book comes hot from the fight. It is not a retrospect
written in the calm after-years, when the outline of things has grown
indistinct and the sharpness of life is blurred. There is nothing
mellowed about a battle-field. Even as I write these words, the post
comes in and brings two letters. One tells of a child of twelve in whom
the first faint desires have awakened to lead a different life. "She is
a Temple girl. Pray that she may have grace to hold on; and that if she
does, we may be guided through the difficult legal complications. Poor
little girl! It makes one sick to think of her spoiled young life!" The
other is a Tamil letter, about another child who is in earnest, so far
as the writer can ascertain, to escape from the life planned out for
her. She learne