An innocent (sic) Lama promptly offered to sell her a small wheel, which, upon her return, she discovered had been especially adapted to heathen requirements. The thoughtful Lama had removed some of his own prayers and had substituted items for which he knew the Christians were constantly praying. He had inserted slips cut from advertisements in the bazaar.
“Wanted, to rent—a bungalow! Wanted, bachelor’s quarters with good drainage! Wanted, a good ayah (nurse);” and he had also kindly left those petitions which all humanity should offer, of course:
“Wanted, a baby; boy preferred. Girls need not apply.”
It was lucky that Mrs. Cultus did not discover the tenor of these new prayers until later, or she might have felt constrained to preach a heathen sermon herself to the innocent Lamas in that chapel. At this time, however, she held the wheel in her hand, twirling it, innocently praying (according to the service interpretation) for what would have surprised her greatly had her prayers been answered.
The Lama felt well pleased. The heathens were doing as they were told. In time they would make good Taoists.
Miss Winchester also took much interest in this service, but with a tinge of the missionary spirit which had escaped Mrs. Cultus.
“It is curious, isn’t it?” said she. “I feel like spinning round and round, myself—not alone, like those dancing dervishes we saw at Cairo; I want a partner. But I can’t decide which wheel to choose—curious, isn’t it?”
“I would not have believed it,” said Adele, “if I had not seen it. It affects my eyes in exactly the same way that my ears are affected when a congregation repeat the same words over and over again without thinking what they are saying.”
“It is very monotonous,” said Paul. “I suppose the Lamas use wheels to save talking—possibly to save preaching; it does save the sermon, yet brings people to church.”
“It must amuse them, too,” said Adele; “they are only children, you know.”