e, and how could
it be taken out of the house? Agamemnon made measurements; it certainly
could not go out of the front door! He suggested it might be left till
the house was pulled down, when it could easily be moved out of one
side. But Elizabeth Eliza reminded him that the whole house was to
be moved without being taken apart. Perhaps it could be cut in strips
narrow enough to go out. One of the men loading the remaining cart
disposed of the question by coming in and rolling up the oil-cloth and
carrying it on on top of his wagon.

Elizabeth Eliza felt she must hurry back to the new house. But what
should they do?--no beds here, no carpets there! The dining-room table
and sideboard were at the other house, the plates, and forks, and
spoons here. In vain she looked at her programme. It was all reversed;
everything was misplaced. Mr. Peterkin would suppose they were to eat
here and sleep here, and what had become of the little boys?

Meanwhile the man with the first cart had returned. They fell to packing
the dining-room china.

They were up in the attic, they were down in the cellar. Even one
suggested to take the tacks out of the parlor carpets, as they should
want to take them next.

Mrs. Peterkin sunk upon a kitchen chair.

"Oh, I wish we had decided to stay and be moved in the house!" she
exclaimed.

Solomon John urged his mother to go to the new house, for Mr. Peterkin
would be there for his "quiet hour." And when the carters at last
appeared, carrying the parlor carpets on their shoulders, she sighed and
said, "There is nothing left," and meekly consented to be led away.

They reached the new house to find Mr. Peterkin sitting calmly in a
rocking-chair on the piazza, watching the oxen coming into the opposite
barn. He was waiting for the keys, which Solomon John had taken back
with him. The little boys were in a horse-chestnut tree, at the side of
the house.

Agamemnon opened the door. The passages were crowded with furniture, the
floors were strewn with books; the bureau was upstairs that was to stand
in a lower bedroom; there was not a place to lay a table,--there was
nothing to lay upon it; for the knives and plates and spoons had not
come, and although the tables were there they were covered with chairs
and boxes.

At this moment came a covered basket from the lady from Philadelphia. It
contained a choice supper, and forks and spoons, and at the same moment
appeared a pot of hot tea from an opposi