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
opposite neighbor. They placed all this on the back of a bookcase
lying upset, and sat around it. Solomon John came rushing in from
the gate.
"The last load is coming! We are all moved!" he exclaimed; and
the little boys joined in a chorus, "We are moved! we are moved!"
Mrs. Peterkin looked sadly round; the kitchen utensils were lying
on the parlor lounge, and an old family gun on Elizabeth Eliza's
hat-box. The parlor clock stood on a barrel; some coal-scuttles
had been placed on the parlor table, a bust of Washington stood in
the door-way, and the looking-glasses leaned against the pillars of
the piazza.
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