"When sham battles had ended in real quarrels, and following in the
footsteps of the little Russians was becoming irksome--(especially to
Fatima, whose predecessor--Peter--had been of a military turn, and had
begun fortifications near the kitchen garden which she was incompetent
to carry out) a new idea struck me. I announced that letters properly
written and addressed to the little Russians, 'Reka Dom, Russia,' and
posted in the old rhubarb-pot by the tool-house, would be duly
answered. The replies to be found in a week's time at the same office.

"The announcement was received with delight, and no doubt was ever
expressed as to the genuineness of the answers which I regularly
supplied, written, by the by, in excellent English, but with Reka Dom
neatly effected in Russian characters on the note-paper. In the first
place, I allowed no awkward inquiries into the machinery of my little
plots for the benefit of the rest; and in the second, we had all, I
think, a sort of half-and-half belief, a wilful credulity in reference
to our many fancies (such as fairies and the like), of which it is
impossible to give the exact measure. But when, the six weekly letters
having become rather burdensome, I left off writing answers from Ivan
to myself, the others began to inquire why Ivan never wrote now. As
usual, I refused to give any explanations, and after inventing several
for themselves which answered for awhile, they adopted by general
consent an idea put forth by little Phillis. The child was sitting one
day with her fat cheek on her hand, and her eyes on the rhubarb-pot,
waiting for her share of the correspondence to be read aloud to her,
when the fancy seemed to strike her, and she said quietly, but with an
air of full conviction--

"'_I___ know what it is--_Ivan is dead_.'