Agamemnon opened the door. The passages were crowded with furniture,
the floors were strewn with books, the bureau was upstairs that was to
stand in a lower bedroom, there was not a place to lay a table, there
was nothing to lay upon it; for the knives and plates and spoons had
not come, and although the tables were there, they were covered with
chairs and boxes.

At this moment came a covered basket from the lady from Philadelphia.
It contained a choice supper, and forks and spoons, and at the same
moment appeared a pot of hot tea from an opposite neighbor. They placed
all this on the back of a book-case lying upset, and sat around it.
Solomon John came rushing from the gate:

"The last load is coming. We are all moved!" he exclaimed, and the
little boys joined in a chorus, "We are moved, we are moved!"

Mrs. Peterkin looked sadly round; the kitchen utensils were lying on
the parlor lounge, and an old family gun on Elizabeth Eliza's hat-box.
The parlor clock stood on a barrel; some coal-scuttles had been placed
on the parlor table, a bust of Washington stood in the door-way, and
the looking-glasses leaned against the pillars of the piazza. But they
were moved! Mrs. Peterkin felt indeed that they were very much moved.




[Illustration: GET UP!]

[Illustration: GOT DOWN!]