God is our Maker: He feeds us, and if He pleases can put an end to our existence.' 'Did God really make you, mother,' she said, and father, and baby too? 'Yes, darling,' I replied, 'He made all of us.' She remained thinking awhile, and then said, 'Mother, you said God feeds us; but is not our food cooked here for us every day?' I explained to her that God caused the rain to fall, and the corn and fruit to grow; and she asked, 'But why is God so kind to us? Are we related to Him in any way?' 'We are His servants and dependents,' I said. 'But, mother,' she went on,

servants wait on their masters and serve them. What service do we do for God?' 'We say prayers and worship Him,' I replied, just as you saw your father doing.' 'But oughtn't we all to do it?' she asked.

I could only whisper, 'Yes, dear, we ought '; and then the child said reproachfully, Mother, dear, you don't say prayers, do you?' I could have sunk into the earth for shame, as I replied, 'You know, dear, some servants are idle and faithless. I am one of these.” And then she gravely said, 'Why didn't my father say his prayers before he was ill? Did not God feed him before?

It was now Nussooh's turn to wince. He was unable to restrain his tears any longer. Fahmeedah, too, was much moved, and she continued presently:

"I told her you had been a bad servant as well as myself; and then she asked if God was not very angry,

and the thought seemed to strike her that perhaps God would not provide food for us any longer, or send milk for her little sister, and she burst into tears. I thought she would never leave off, and I took her in my arms and fondled her, and tried to comfort her by saying that, though God might be angry, He never deprived His servants of their food. She was quiet after awhile, but her mind was still uneasy, and she said, 'But, mother, when our servants don't do their work, father cuts their pay or sends them away. We ought to do some service for God, oughtn't we? And I have never said any prayers.' And then she began to cry again, till I told her God was not angry with little children who were too young to pray. Presently she whispered, 'Mother dear, I get nicer things to eat than all the others can't I do something for the good God? I do things for you, don't I, mother?' 'Yes, darling!' I said, 'you fan me sometimes, and bring things for me, and thread my needle, and mind baby.' 'Then why can't I do something for God? I could stand up and fold my hands like father does.' 'But, my child, father has to say things as well. He praises and thanks God, and confesses his sins, and asks for forgiveness; and he says it in Arabic too.' 'Oh!' she cried in a dejected tone, 'must we know Arabic to pray to God? 'No, dear!' I said; 'God knows all languages. And not only this, He knows our thoughts and intentions, for He is present everywhere. He is in this house, though

we can't see Him.' drew on her veil,

On this she crept close to me, and and hurriedly whispered, 'Mother,

cover your head!' She said no more, but seemed oppressed with awe, and after a time went fast asleep in my arms, till my legs ached with carrying her. I laid her gently on the bed, and told Bedárá to sit by and hold her hand, for fear she should wake up in a fright. Humeedah's talk has shaken my nerves. To think that a baby like that should have such notions. I can't think what has come to her."

Presently Nussooh observed: "It is the beauty of religion that it comes within the intelligence of young as well as old. It is not, like men's puzzles, a matter of ingenious contriving. The pity is that man shuts his eyes and forgets his Maker. And yet reason was given to him that he might study the works of God. As Sadi says, 'Every leaf is a page in the book of the Creator's knowledge.' Humeedah has put us all to shame in the innocence of her childish instincts. She is an angel in the house: and thank God that for one at least of our little ones we need have no misgivings. Let us take her words as an omen of success, and carry out our good resolutions with cheerfulness and unanimity, for we must work together and show no signs of giving way."

"Please God, it shall be so," rejoined Fahmeedah.

CHAPTER IV.

NUSSOOH TALKS WITH HIS YOUNGEST SON,
SULLEEM.

NEXT day the youngest boy, Sulleem, was awakened by Bedárá with a message that his father wanted to speak to him. He was only ten years old, and, alarmed at the unusual summons, he washed his hands and face, and ran to ask his mother why his father had sent for him, and if he was angry.

"How can I tell," she said, "he hasn't been down stairs yet."

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Bedárá, do you know anything?"

"All that I know is that master was sitting reading, and when I passed his door, he told me to call you.”

"I wonder if he is angry," said the boy. "Mother, you'll come with me, won't you?"

"No, I can't leave baby. What are you afraid of? If your father questions you, mind you answer him properly."

At last Sulleem ventured up-stairs, and timidly entering his father's room made his obeisance, and stood at a respectful distance. His father called him to come and sit beside him, and said pleasantly:

"So you haven't gone to school yet, my boy."

"No, Sir, it wants an hour to the time yet."

"Do you go to school with your second brother, or alone?" inquired his father.

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Generally I go alone, Sir. The examination comes off next month, and my brother is working for it. He rises very early and goes to a schoolfellow's, and I meet him at school afterwards."

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'Why does he do that? is there no room for him to study here?"

"He says that chess and cards are always going on in our part of the house, and he can't work in peace," replied Sulleem.

"Ah! I daresay you play chess, don't you?" remarked his father with a smile.

"I know the moves, Sir, but I don't care about playing."

Perhaps it is too difficult for you. You prefer cards?"

"No, Sir, I like cards still less."

"Well, but how is this? Not so long ago you were always playing at some game or other. There must be some special reason," said his father, rather astonished at the boy's words and manner.