Grandmother had already opened the drawer.

Ah, dear! what a revelation! Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, ribbons, collars; collars ribbons, scarfs, handkerchiefs, gloves, in a sort of _pot-pourri_ all together, or as if waiting to be beaten up into some wonderful new kind of pudding! Molly grew redder and redder.
"Dear me!" said grandmother.

"This is your drawer, I suppose, Molly.

How is it it is so much smaller than Sylvia's ?" "It isn't, grandmother dear," said Molly, rather surprised at the turn of the conversation.

"It is just the same size exactly." "Then how is it you have so many more things to keep in it than Sylvia ?" "I haven't, grandmother dear," said Molly.