“These little things seem to me symbolized by the dimak,” observed Mr. Hartley. “Small errors do not startle conscience as do more evident sins, that, like the jackals, give loud warning of their approach. We may be in little danger of defrauding, or lying, or hating; but the small faults creep noiselessly on us, working, as it were, under ground, yet gradually marring beauty of character and injuring peace of mind.”
“To what special faults do you allude?” asked Alicia.
“Want of consideration for others, foolish talking, exaggeration, and discontent; to which I must add another, to which, I grieve to say, I too often give place. This is irritability of temper,—most unbecoming in a Christian.”
“I have never seen you show irritability, dear father, except, perhaps, once or twice with the servants.”
“Sometimes in the bazaars the blasphemy of the infidel or the insolence of the Moslem makes me speak with unguarded heat.”
“Surely such anger is lawful in a missionary defending his Master’s cause,” said Alicia.
“My daughter, no cause is gained by its advocate losing his temper. I have bitterly repented of words spoken in a moment of irritation.”
Here the conversation was suddenly interrupted by Robin’s bursting into the veranda, a spade in one hand, and in the other an earthen saucer, which he triumphantly waved aloft.
“After four hours of work, behold the spoils of victory!” he cried, and he handed the saucer to Alicia.
“What are these hideous fat white creatures?” she exclaimed, looking with disgust at three huge grubs, each of the size of her little finger.