the scene of action, where she found the blind worshippers of Kitty-mouse mourning over the charred remains of the lost darling.
"What have you been at? Tell me all about it," said Mrs. Jo, composing herself to listen patiently, for the culprits looked so penitent, she forgave them beforehand.
With some reluctance Demi explained their play, and Aunt Jo laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks, the children were so solemn, and the play was so absurd.
"I thought you were too sensible to play such a silly game as this. If I had any Kitty-mouse I'd have a good one who liked you to play in safe pleasant ways, and not destroy and frighten. Just see what a ruin you have made; all Daisy's pretty dolls, Demi's soldiers, and Rob's new village beside poor Teddy's pet lamb, and dear old Annabella. I shall have to write up in the nursery the verse that used to come in the boxes of toys—
'The children of Holland take pleasure in making,
What the children of Boston take pleasure in breaking.'
Only I shall put Plumfield instead of Boston."
"We never will again, truly, truly!" cried the repentant little sinners, much abashed at this reproof.
"Demi told us to," said Rob.
"Well, I heard Uncle tell about the Greece people, who had altars and things, and so I wanted to be like them, only I hadn't any live creatures to sackerryfice, so we burnt up our toys."
"Dear me, that is something like the bean story," said Aunt Jo, laughing again.
