say she has a great many pretty things. There was nothing which gave me
greater delight than looking into other people's drawers, and turning
over those remnants of various things which are stored away in most
houses--in many for the mere love of hoarding. Mamma would sometimes
allow me to arrange certain little drawers containing jewelry, ribbons,
and odds and ends. But the charmed room in our house was one that was
always kept locked, and, from the circumstance of a green ribbon being
attached to the key, we called it "the green-ribbon room."

Dear me! what a collection that room contained. There were several large
trunks that nearly covered the floor, besides boxes, and bags, and
bundles; and these were filled with cast-off clothes, silks, ribbons,
and bunches of artificial flowers and feathers. The room was not very
often opened; it was at the very top of the house, and lighted by a
large dormar-window; but as soon as mamma mounted the stairs, with the
key in her hand, the alarm was given: "Quick! mother is going to the
green-ribbon room!" and mamma's ears were immediately refreshed by the
sound of numerous little feet moving up stairs at locomotive speed, with
the ostensible purpose of assisting her in her researches--but in
reality, to be getting in her way, and begging for everything we saw. It
was, "Mamma, mayn't we have this?" or, "mayn't we have that?" or "Do say
yes, just this once; and we'll never ask you for anything again as long
as we live--never," a promise faithfully kept till next time.

Mamma sometimes tried to go up very softly, in order to elude our
vigilance; but it wouldn't do. She often wondered how we found out that
that she was there, but we seldom missed an opportunity. Now and then a
dear little pitcher, or a vase of cream-colored ground with a wreath of
faint pink roses traced around it, or a cluster of bright-colored
flowers in the centre, arrested our attention, and called forth