“Oh, a great big place with walls all round, where people are locked up, and can’t go in and out as they choose.”
“Very well. Then I think you may be allowed to call the place in which the little Victims were kept a prison, for it certainly was a great big place with walls all round, and they were locked up at night, and not allowed to go in and out as they chose.”
“Poor things,” murmured No. 8; but he consoled himself by recollecting that the story was to end well.
“Aunt Judy, before you go on, do tell us what victims are? Are they fairies, or what? I don’t know.”
This was the request of No. 5, who was rather more thoughtful than the rest, and was apt now and then to delay a story by his inquiring turn of mind.
No. 6 was in a hurry to hear some more, and nudged No. 5 to make him be quiet; but Aunt Judy interposed; said she did not like to tell stories to people who didn’t care to know what they meant, and declared that No. 5 was quite right in asking what a victim was.
“A victim,” said she, “was the creature which the old heathens used to offer up as a sacrifice, after they had gained a victory in battle. You all remember I dare say,” continued she, “what a sacrifice is, and have heard about Abel’s sacrifice of the firstlings of his flock.”
The children nodded assent, and Aunt Judy went on:—
“No such sacrifices are ever offered up now by us Christians, and so there are no more real victims now. But we still use the word, and call any creature a victim who is ill-used, or hurt, or destroyed by somebody else.
“If you, any of you, were to worry or kill the cat, for instance, then the cat would be called the victim of your cruelty; and in the same manner the eight little Victims I am going to tell you about were the victims of the whims and cruel prejudices of those who had the charge of them.