Such were my thoughts. I was but a child, a very ignorant one, yet I had my thoughts, such as they were. Children often think more than their elders give them credit for, and this is stranger still, since all were children once. Since that time I have often thought of myself, and could never believe my sufferings to have been according to the will of God. It is so common for people when they do not understand a thing to attribute it to this cause and make that an excuse for their ignorance and mistakes. I remember several of the questions, Was it the will of God that I should be born without a father unlike all the other boys? They had something to be proud of, though the fathers of most of them were dead; but even a dead father was better than none at all. Was it the will of God that our mama should suffer so much and then go away and leave us alone in the world? Was it the will of God that we should be separated and now be lost or as dead to each other? It is so much safer to lay the blame on God, or make His will an excuse for sins and follies than to blame ourselves, for to do the latter would be self-reproach, which is rather disagreeable; and to accuse our fellowmen might be resented, which would be dangerous. But God is so far away and keeps quiet. I could not be resigned, yet following the routine of school duties, no matter how heavy my heart was, my grief gradually lost its power over me. What a blessed thing it is that time has the power of alleviating our sorrows and not allowing them to fall one upon another until we are crushed by them! I did not forget, but endured what seemed to me an inevitable fate or something, no matter what. Months passed. I gave myself wholly to my studies with true delight in them. I rose from one grade to another, and became quite happy except when I thought of those who had gone. I was still the “Little One,” for even the sahib and mem sahib had come to call me by that name. I became used to it, as it suited me as well as any other. One morning the sahib who had found me in the serai and brought me to the school came, with several others, with our sahib into the yard. Most of the boys were at play, but stopped to look at the sahibs. Standing a little behind them I heard the magistrate sahib, as I learned he was called, ask, “Where is the boy I brought you who never had a father?” “That Eurasian?” said our sahib, “we call him the ‘Little One,’ as he had no name and he is the smallest one of the lot.” One of the other sahibs asked, “Why not call him Japhet, and some day he can go in search of his father?” They all laughed, and our sahib said that “Japhet” might do as well as any other, so I was Japhet to him ever afterward, and to others to this day.