PART 3
At home, Marmee insisted that she felt better and wanted to sit in the parlor. So Meg reluctantly settled cushions and a blanket on the sofa, and stoked the fire. Father chose to stay in bed, so Meg enjoyed tea with her mother, then turned to mending.
"You don't have to darn your father's socks, dear," chided Marmee.
"I don't mind, and they do need mending," Meg insisted.
"You've always been so devoted to us. How did you enjoy visiting Plumfield?"
"It was wonderful to see the children. I didn't realize how much I missed them until they were gone for two days," confessed Meg.
"I'm sure they're having great fun, and it was kind of Jo to take them."
"It certainly was! She already has a dozen children to watch, but apparently Rob is enjoying it just as much as Demi and Daisy."
Marmee chuckled as she imagined the three children carousing together, and Meg joined her in laughter.
Tommy and Nan held the three younger children in a huddle in the barn. The door was carefully shut, and they kept peeking to see if Nick was coming.
"So today is a special day," continued Tommy.
Nan picked up the story. "The Kitty-mouse lives in the forest, and visits the barn and the house sometimes. Oh, the Kitty-mouse requires sacrifices, or it comes and gets you at night."
Rob, Demi, and Daisy trembled, and searched the corners of the barn for any sign of pointed ears or whiskers.
"What's a sackerryfice?" asked Rob.
"You must give up something you like, and we'll make a bonfire behind the big rock in the woods," explained Tommy.
The little ones' eyes widened in fear at this terrible demand, but the thought of the Kitty-mouse coming to get them was enough to coerce participation. They finally agreed to select a sackerryfice and meet near the woods in an hour. When the younger children left, Nan and Tommy snickered between themselves.
An hour later, the three little ones stood near the barn. Daisy clutched her paper dolls, Rob had a wooden toy village, and Demi's pocket held several toy soldiers. Nan and Tommy led the way to the big rock. Tommy brought a model boat, and Nan held a doll she hadn't played with for years.
Nan started a fire on top of the rock, using a flint and steel. The twigs and dry leaves quickly lit, and Tommy added small pieces of wood. When the fire was burning well, they ordered that the company circle the fire three times, then give their offerings to the dreaded Kitty-mouse. Tommy began the process with his wooden boat, then demanded that Demi add his lead soldiers. Demi placed the small figures in the fire, where they began to melt. Daisy took a step backwards as Rob was instructed to add his toy village to the pyre. Fearing both the older children and the Kitty-mouse, he added the small buildings to the blaze. "Now, Daisy!" commanded Tommy.
"But how can I burn my dear dollies?" she wavered.
"Rob and Demi and I all made our sacrifices, now it's your turn," Tommy insisted.
Shedding a few tears, Daisy added her paper dolls to the fire, but kept the final one, rubbing it between her fingers. "This is my favorite one, and Aunt Amy made them, must I burn it?"
Nan hesitated, and glanced at Tommy. She hadn't meant to take the game this far, but she didn't want to lose authority, either. "Yes!" Nan commanded, and Daisy added the final doll to the fire. Then Nan placed her offering on the fire. The doll was made of kid leather, with a porcelain face. As the leather began to burn, the arms and legs twisted and contorted, as if the doll were alive. The smaller children fidgeted as the doll writhed in the flames, until it sat in the center of the fire, a blackened heap. Rob watched the process intently, his eyes growing bigger and bigger. When the doll's movement ceased, he turned and fled, running straight for the house.
Nan and Tommy looked at each other in surprise. Daisy began to cry at the loss of her dolls and the trauma of watching Nan's doll "die." Demi tried to console her, when Jo appeared, dragged by Rob's small hand. Jo could barely understand what Rob was saying through his sobs, but she saw the remains of the offerings in the fire.
"What have you been doing?" she demanded.
Shame-faced, Tommy and Nan explained the circumstances of the sacrifice, and Jo looked from their discomfiture to the smaller children's grief. "Where did you get this idea, anyway?" she asked.
"Well, remember when we were talking about ancient Greece last month? They had sacrifices, but we didn't have any live animals to use for offerings," Tommy explained.
Jo fought the urge to laugh at how literally he had taken her lesson on Greek history, trying to remember Rob and Daisy's fright. "Tommy, Nan, you should know better than to frighten the younger children like this. What do you suggest to make them feel better?"
Tommy and Nan stared at each other, racking their brains for ideas. "Maybe we could have a funeral for the doll," Nan suggested. The younger children's faces brightened with the suggestion, and the group proceeded to hold a funeral for the dearly departed. Rob and Demi served as pallbearers, and the girls picked flowers for the grave. Tommy served as the minister, and Jo supervised the event.
Later, alone in the parlor, Jo gave way to her laughter, picturing what the dreaded Kitty-mouse must look like. The solemn funeral had been nearly as funny as the sacrifice, with the children acting their roles to perfection. What would they dream up next?
Jo surprised everyone at Orchard House with a visit the following afternoon. She spent time visiting her parents, then Meg made tea.
Meg laughed until her sides hurt when Jo told her about the Kitty-mouse sacrifice.
"Only Tommy and Nan could invent that kind of story!" Jo concluded, laughing as well.
"Thanks for coming to visit Marmee and Father," Meg said, picking up the tea cups to take back to the kitchen. "They were happy to see you."
Jo looked around the parlor. "It's always nice to be home. I can't believe I was actually the housekeeper for several years! I'm lucky to avoid burning things when I cook."
"It must have been difficult to fill Beth's shoes, Jo," Meg consoled.
"Yes, Beth did a wonderful job managing the house. Sometimes I still expect to see her at the piano."
"Me, too."
"She always helped us remember what's truly important. And it was her willingness to help others that exposed her to scarlet fever…"
"We all miss her, but her service attitude is something I try to emulate," Meg admonished. "She always counted her blessings, and that's what we need to do as well."
"Exactly. Well, I still need to grade that spelling test, and Asia will have supper ready soon."
Meg bid her farewell, then sat for a moment staring at the piano in the parlor.
Returning upstairs, Marmee noticed the change in her mood. "What's the matter, dear? You seem melancholy."
"Jo and I were talking about Beth. I still miss her terribly sometimes."
"We all certainly do, but she belongs with the angels now. Beth wouldn't want us to grieve. She always saw the silver lining of a situation, and searched for blessings in disguise."
"Blessings in disguise?"
"Yes, we can find something to be thankful for in any situation. When life seems difficult, we can start counting our blessings. Then we truly honor Beth's memory."
Meg thought quietly for a moment. Then she giggled.
"What is it now, Meg?"
"I didn't tell you, but Demi and Daisy created a disaster in your pantry a few days ago. I was so angry at the time, but now I can be grateful that the children paid enough attention to that fairy tale to recreate the story. Maybe they listen to the other things I tell them, too."
"Exactly, Meg. And we can always find something positive in a situation, if we look hard enough."
Meg smiled as she picked up the teacups. "Thank you, Marmee. I'm glad I've listened to you over the years."
Marmee smiled in return. "I'm very proud of you, Meg. And thankful for your help this week as well."
Downstairs, Meg set to washing dishes with vigor, thankful for Orchard House, fond memories, and parents who loved her.
Two days later, Marmee and Father were well, and Meg came to pick up the twins. She met them with a big hug and kisses, and listened to their tales of walks in the woods and the Kitty-mouse sacrifice. As the children raced to the guest room to help pack their things, Meg lingered at the door with Jo.
"Thank you for taking the children. I know it was difficult with your other responsibilities, especially when the children were starting bonfires in the woods!"
Jo shook her head. "I don't mind, Meg. Don't worry, Tommy and Nan were properly punished for misleading the younger children."
"Well, it depends on how you look at the situation. There's hidden blessings everywhere, if you seek them."
"What do you mean?"
"We can always find the silver lining of a situation, just like Beth always did."
"So I can be grateful that the children didn't set the house on fire?"
Meg laughed. "That's a start. We can be grateful they have such wonderful imaginations, too."
Jo giggled. "I guess we played games just as silly as brops and Kitty-mouse when we were children, and Marmee never dissuaded us from using our imaginations."
Meg smiled and linked her arm through Jo's. "Why don't we see what they're planning next?"
"Of course! It's our only chance to stay ahead!"
The two sisters laughed as they went to help the twins pack their surviving toys. "Now, Jo, what did Tommy say at the doll's funeral?" Meg asked. Jo launched into the tale as she shut the door behind her, seeking the blessings in disguise.
Author's note: Special thanks to Louisa May Alcott, from whom I borrowed the brops game and the Kitty-mouse sacrifice
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