ended with sealing-wax and gunpowder. All sorts of things were mixed
together, as if somebody had put in a long stick and stirred them
well up. There were books and paint-boxes and bits of scribbled
paper, and lead-pencils and brushes. Stocking-legs had come unrolled,
and twisted themselves about pocket-handkerchiefs, and ends of
ribbon, and linen collars.

Ruffles, all crushed out of shape, stuck up from under the heavier
things, and sundry little paper boxes lay empty on top, the treasures
they once held having sifted down to the bottom of the drawer, and
disappeared beneath the general mass.

It took much time and patience to bring order out of this confusion. But
Katy knew that Aunt Izzie would be up by and by, and she dared not stop
till all was done. By the time it was finished, she was very tired.
Going down stairs, she met Elsie coming up with a slate in her hand,
which, as soon as she saw Katy, she put behind her.

"You mustn't look," she said, "it's my letter to Cousin Helen. Nobody
but me knows the secret. It's all written, and I'm going to send it to
the office. See--there's a stamp on it;" and she exhibited a corner of
the slate. Sure enough, there was a stamp stuck on the frame.

"You little goose!" said Katy, impatiently, "you can't send _that_ to
the post-office. Here, give me the slate. I'll copy what you've written
on paper, and Papa'll give you an envelope."

"No, no," cried Elsie, struggling, "you mustn't! You'll see what I've
said and Cousin Helen said I wasn't to tell. It's a secret. Let go of my
slate, I say! I'll tell Cousin Helen what a mean girl you are, and then