e always getting their covers
caught when you shut the drawer, and, when you try to keep them down, you
pinch your fingers so.

Please to imagine, O orderly readers! who keep every pin in its proper
place, the worst looking upper drawer that your horrified eyes ever
beheld, and you will have some idea of this drawer of Gypsy's.

There were boxes large, and boxes small, boxes round, square, and oblong;
boxes with covers (only two), and boxes without; handkerchiefs,
under-sleeves, collars,--both clean and soiled,--laces and ribbons, and
bows and nets; purses and old gloves, a piece of soap, a pile of letters,
scratched and scattering jewelry, a piece of dried cake, several fans all
covered with dust, and nobody knew what not, in the lower strata, out of
sight.

Gypsy sat and looked at it for about two minutes in utter despair. Then
she just turned the whole thing bottom upwards in a great heap on the
floor, and began to investigate matters, with her cheeks very red.

Presently, the family down stairs heard a little scream. Winnie stamped up
to see what was the matter.

"Why, I've found my grammar!" said Gypsy. "It's the one in marble covers I
lost ever--ever so long ago, and had to get a new one. It was right down
at the bottom of the drawer!"

Pretty soon there was another little scream, and Gypsy called down the
chimney:

"Tom Breynton! What do you think? I've found that dollar bill of yours you
thought I'd burnt up."

After awhile there came still another scream, a pretty loud one this time.
Mrs. Breynton came up to see what had happened.

"I've cut my hand," said Gypsy, faintly; "there was a great heap of broken
glass in my drawer!"

"_Broken glass!_"

"Yes, I'm sure I don't know how it came there; I guess I was going to
frame a picture."

Mrs. Breynton bound up her finger, and went down again. She was no more
than fairly seated before there came from up-stairs, not a scream, but one
of the merriest laughs that ever was heard.

"What is to pay, now?" called Tom, from the entry.

"Oh, dear!" gasped Gypsy; "it's too funny for anything! If here isn't the
_carving-knife_ we scolded Patty for losing last winter, and--Oh, Tom,
just look here!--my stick of peanut candy, that I thought I'd eaten up,
all stuck on to my lace under-sleeves!"

It was past Gypsy's bed-time when the upper drawer was fairly in order and
put back in its place. Three others remained to go through the same
process, as well as wardro