Daisy and Demi were full of these whims, and lived in a world of
their own, peopled with lovely or grotesque creatures, to whom
they gave the queerest names, and with whom they played the
queerest games. One of these nursery inventions was an invisible
sprite called “The Naughty Kitty-mouse,” whom the children had
believed in, feared, and served for a long time. They seldom spoke
of it to any one else, kept their rites as private as possible; and, as
they never tried to describe it even to themselves, this being had a
vague mysterious charm very agreeable to Demi, who delighted in
elves and goblins. A most whimsical and tyrannical imp was the
Naughty Kitty-mouse, and Daisy found a fearful pleasure in its
service, blindly obeying its most absurd demands, which were
usually proclaimed from the lips of Demi, whose powers of
invention were great. Rob and Teddy sometimes joined in these
ceremonies, and considered them excellent fun, although they did
not understand half that went on.
One day after school Demi whispered to his sister, with an
ominous wag of the head,
“The Kitty-mouse wants us this afternoon.”
“What for?” asked Daisy, anxiously.
“A sackerryfice,” answered Demi, solemnly. “There must be a fire
behind the big rock at two o’clock, and we must all bring the things
we like best, and burn them!” he added, with an awful emphasis on
the last words.
“Oh, dear! I love the new paper dollies Aunt Amy painted for me
best of any thing; must I burn them up?” cried Daisy, who never
thought of denying the unseen tyrant any thing it demanded.
“Every one. I shall burn my boat, my best scrapbook, and all my
soldiers,” said Demi firmly.
“Well, I will; but it’s too bad of Kitty-mouse to want our very
nicest things,” sighed Daisy.
“A sackerryfice means to give up what you are fond of, so we
must,” explained Demi, to whom the new idea had been suggested
by hearing Uncle Fritz describe the customs of the Greeks to the
big boys who were reading about them in school.
“Is Rob coming too,” asked Daisy.
“Yes, and he is going to bring his toy village; it is all made of
wood, you know, and will burn nicely. We’ll have a grand bonfire,
and see them blaze up, won’t we?”
This brilliant prospect consoled Daisy, and she ate her dinner with
a row of paper dolls before her, as a sort of farewell banquet.
At the appointed hour the sacrificial train set forth, each child
bearing the treasures demanded by the insatiable Kitty-mouse.
Teddy insisted on going also, and seeing that all the others had
toys, he tucked a squeaking lamb under one arm, and old
Annabella under the other, little dreaming what anguish the latter
idol was to give him.
“Where are you going, my chickens?” asked Mrs. Jo, as the flock
passed her door.
“To play by the big rock; can’t we?”
“Yes, only don’t do near the pond, and take good care of baby.”
“I always do,” said Daisy, leading forth her charge with a capable
air.
“Now, you must all sit round, and not move till I tell you. This flat
stone is an altar, and I am going to make a fire on it.”
Demi then proceeded to kindle up a small blaze, as he had seen the
boys do at picnics. When the flame burned well, he ordered the
company to march round it three times and then stand in a circle.
“I shall begin, and as fast as my things are burnt, you must bring
yours.”
With that he solemnly laid on a little paper book full of pictures,
pasted in by himself; this was followed by a dilapidated boat, and
then one by one the unhappy leaden soldiers marched to death. Not
one faltered or hung back, from the splendid red and yellow
captain to the small drummer who had lost his legs; all vanished in
the flames and mingled in one common pool of melted lead.
“Now, Daisy!” called the high priest of Kitty-mouse, when his rich
offerings had been consumed, to the great satisfaction of the
children.
“My dear dollies, how can I let them go?” moaned Daisy, hugging