Here in a quiet nook on the broad window-sill she had curled herself up for hours with her new story-books; here she had locked herself in to learn her lessons, and keep her doll's dressmaking out of Winnie's way; here she had gone away alone to have all her "good cries;" here she sometimes spent a part of her Sabbath evenings with her most earnest and sober thoughts.
Here was the mantel-shelf, covered with her little knick-knacks that no one was ever allowed to touch but herself--pictures framed in pine cones, boxes of shell-work, baskets of wafer-work, cologne-bottles, watchcases, ivy-shoots and minerals, on which the dust accumulated at its own sweet will, and the characteristic variety and arrangement whereof none ever disputed with her.

What if Joy should bring a trunkful of ornaments?
There in the wardrobe were her treasures covering six shelves--her kites and balls of twine, fishlines and doll's bonnets, scraps of gay silk and jackknives, old compositions and portfolios, colored paper and dried moss, pieces of chalk and horse-chestnuts, broken jewelry and marbles.

It was a curious collection.

One would suppose it to be a sort of co-partnership between the property of a boy and girl, in which the boy decidedly predominated.
[Illustration] Into this wardrobe Gypsy looked regretfully.

Three of those shelves--those precious shelves--must be Joy's now.