“I have them not, mother.”
“Not your dolls!”
“Not one.”
“But what have you done with them? I know they were all brought from Antioch.”
“Mother, they have been given away.”
“Given away! to whom?”
“To Glyceria, the sister of Euphrosyne.”
“But what can have induced you to do this?”
“She is paralyzed, and served by little children in the story of the Insula where she lives. I considered that it would amuse her to dress the dolls afresh, and perhaps mend broken limbs, and after that she will distribute them among the little willing children that help her in her infirmity.”
“As the Gods love me!” exclaimed Duilia, “Whoever heard before of such madness. Hellebore would not cure it. Verily the more you labor at a hole the greater the hollow. You are a fool, and your folly grows daily greater. You must present your toys of childhood to the Lares, they expect it—it is the custom, it is right.”