Ellen did so, and found a man standing there, with his arms
rather full of sundry packages.

"Oh, Mamma, my things!" cried Ellen, clapping her hands; "here
they are!"

The man placed his burden on the table and withdrew.

"Oh, Mamma, I am so glad they are come! Now, if I only had a
light — this is my desk, I know, for it's the largest; and I
think this is my dressing-box, as well as I can tell by
feeling — yes, it is, here's the handle on top; and this is my
dear workbox — not so big as the desk, nor so little as the
dressing-box. Oh, Mamma, mayn't I ring for a light?"

There was no need, for a servant just then entered, bringing
the wished-for candles, and the not-wished-for _tea_. Ellen was
capering about in the most fantastic style, but suddenly
stopped short at sight of the tea things, and looked very
grave. "Well, Mamma, I'll tell you what I'll do," she said,
after a pause of consideration; "I'll make the tea the first
thing, before I untie a single knot; won't that be best,
Mamma? Because I know if I once begin to look, I shan't want
to stop. Don't you think that is wise, Mamma?

But alas! the fire had got very low; there was no making the
tea quickly; and the toast was a work of time. And when all
was over at length, it was then too late for Ellen to begin to
undo packages. She struggled with impatience a minute or two,
and then gave up the point very gracefully, and went to bed.