"There, you've cracked your slate," said Clover.
"No matter, I sha'n't want it again for eight weeks," replied Katy,
comfortably, as they ran up the steps.
They burst open the front door and raced up stairs, crying "Hurrah!
hurrah! vacation's begun. Aunt Izzie, vacation's begun!" Then they
stopped short, for lo! the upper hall was all in confusion. Sounds of
beating and dusting came from the spare room. Tables and chairs were
standing about; and a cot-bed, which seemed to be taking a walk all by
itself, had stopped short at the head of the stairs, and barred the way.
"Why, how queer!" said Katy, trying to get by. "What _can_ be going to
happen? Oh, there's Aunt Izzie! Aunt Izzie, who's coming? What _are_ you
moving the things out of the Blue-room for?"
"Oh, gracious! is that you?" replied Aunt Izzie, who looked very hot and
flurried. "Now, children, it's no use for you to stand there asking
questions; I haven't got time to answer them. Let the bedstead alone,
Katy, you'll push it into the wall. There, I told you so!" as Katy gave
an impatient shove, "you've made a bad mark on the paper. What a
troublesome child you are! Go right down stairs, both of you, and don't
come up this way again till after tea.
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