"I can vouch for the sauce," retorted Jo. "Get up, silly, I am not a heathen idol."
Just as Henry was rising to make a dignified salaam, one of the other boys gave him a push and down he went again on his knees, to the detriment of his new trousers.
"I say, this is too much rough-house," exclaimed Henry. "Mrs. Hoyt, call these fellows to order."
"Come, boys," cried Mrs. Hoyt, "you are getting too obstreperous. We shall have to sing hymns to sober you down."
In a few minutes they were all standing at the piano singing "Onward Christian Soldiers" with all the vim their youthful voices possessed, Nan accompanying. They sang for an hour, the boys coming out strong on the hymn of the St. Andrew's brotherhood, and all those with any sort of martial spirit. As a fitting close, Mrs. Hoyt selected "For all the saints who from their labors rest," since this was All Saints day.
The lads had entirely quieted down by the time this was ended, and Dick Langham, the most exuberant of them all, had actual tears in his eyes as he whispered to Mrs. Hoyt at parting, "I just wish my mother were here, Mrs Hoyt; I'd like to play baby and get in her lap. Those old hymns took me right back home."
"Come to us whenever you want to be mothered," Mrs. Hoyt responded. "I won't promise to take you on my lap, Dick, but I will do my best to cheer you up."
"Thank you, I'll come," said Dick, bending low and kissing her hand.
The boys trooped out as darkness settled down on the outer world. The electric lights showed shining reflections on the wet street. Maximilianplatz looked quiet and empty. The "honk-honk" of an automobile once in a while speeding along, and the noise of a passing tram-car alone interrupted the quiet till the bells of the Frauenkirche pealed out the angelus.