"Why, how queer!" said Katy, trying to get by. "What _can_ be going to
happen? Oh, there's Aunt Izzie! Aunt Izzie, who's coming? What _are_ you
moving the things out of the Blue-room for?"

"Oh, gracious! is that you?" replied Aunt Izzie, who looked very hot and
flurried. "Now, children, it's no use for you to stand there asking
questions; I haven't got time to answer them. Let the bedstead alone,
Katy, you'll push it into the wall. There, I told you so!" as Katy gave
an impatient shove, "you've made a bad mark on the paper. What a
troublesome child you are! Go right down stairs, both of you, and don't
come up this way again till after tea. I've just as much as I can
possibly attend to till then."

"Just tell us what's going to happen, and we will," cried the children.

"Your Cousin Helen is coming to visit us," said Miss Izzie, curtly, and
disappeared into the Blue-room.

This was news indeed. Katy and Clover ran down stairs in great
excitement, and after consulting a little, retired to the Loft to talk
it over in peace and quiet. Cousin Helen coming! It seemed as strange as
if Queen Victoria, gold crown and all, had invited herself to tea. Or as
if some character out of a book, Robinson Crusoe, say, or "Amy Herbert,"
had driven up with a trunk and announced the intention of spending a
week. For to the imaginations of the children, Cousin Helen was as
interesting and unreal as anybody in the Fairy Tales: Cinderella, or
Blue-Beard, or dear Red Riding-Hood herself. Only there was a sort of
mixture of Sunday-school book in their idea of her, for Cousin Helen was
very, very good.