"Oh, you silly! You are building the same house every time, and taking it down again. How can you be so baby as to call that building a street."
"No matter," said Turly, "I have the street in my head. I see all the houses I built, though they had to come down. It's a grand city."
"Whereabouts is it in the world!" asked Terry, a little interested in spite of herself.
"Oh, it's a city I read about in the Arabian Nights! I think they call it Ispahan. I intend to go there some day. There are magicians living in it."
"Oh, that's better!" cried Terry. "You must take me with you, Turly."
"Girls don't ever grow up into famous travellers," said Turly, as he packed his bricks solidly back into their box.
"Oh, you stupid! don't they? As if I couldn't run about as well as a person who lies on the floor all day and calls it travelling."
"I didn't," said Turly, "I said I intended to go and see that city some day, and find out all about everything that is in it. I am afraid the magicians are dead."
But here Granny's tea-bell rang, and the children hastened away to their honey and tea-cakes. And there they had a delightful surprise, for two little new kittens, a white Persian and a black velvet creature with yellow eyes, were curled up on the hearth at Gran'ma's feet.