"What are the children all doing to-day?" said Katy laying down "Norway
and the Norwegians," which she was reading for the fourth time; "I
haven't seen them since breakfast."

Aunt Izzie, who was sewing on the other side of the room, looked up
from her work.

"I don't know," she said, "they're over at Cecy's, or somewhere. They'll
be back before long, I guess."

Her voice sounded a little odd and mysterious, but Katy didn't
notice it.

"I thought of such a nice plan yesterday," she went on. "That was that
all of them should hang their stockings up here to-morrow night instead
of in the nursery. Then I could see them open their presents, you know.
Mayn't they, Aunt Izzie? It would be real fun."

"I don't believe there will be any objection," replied her aunt. She
looked as if she were trying not to laugh. Katy wondered what was the
matter with her.

It was more than two months now since Cousin Helen went away, and Winter
had fairly come. Snow was falling out-doors. Katy could see the thick
flakes go whirling past the window, but the sight did not chill her. It
only made the room look warmer and more cosy. It was a pleasant room
now. There was a bright fire in the grate. Everything was neat and
orderly, the air was sweet with mignonette, from a little glass of
flowers which stood on the table, and the Katy who lay in bed, was a