The Story Girl came over early in the morning, and Sara Ray, to whom faithful Cecily had sent word, was also on hand.  Felicity did not approve of this.

“Sara Ray isn’t any relation to our family,” she scolded to Cecily, “and she has no right to be present.”

“She’s a particular friend of mine,” said Cecily with dignity.  “We have her in everything, and it would hurt her feelings dreadfully to be left out of this.  Peter is no relation either, but he is going to be here when we open it, so why shouldn’t Sara?”

“Peter ain’t a member of the family YET, but maybe he will be some day.  Hey, Felicity?” said Dan.

“You’re awful smart, aren’t you, Dan King?” said Felicity, reddening.  “Perhaps you’d like to send for Kitty Marr, too—­though she DOES laugh at your big mouth.”

“It seems as if ten o’clock would never come,” sighed the Story Girl.  “The work is all done, and Aunt Olivia and Uncle Roger are here, and the chest might just as well be opened right away.”

“Mother SAID ten o’clock and she’ll stick to it,” said Felicity crossly.  “It’s only nine now.”

“Let us put the clock on half an hour,” said the Story Girl.  “The clock in the hall isn’t going, so no one will know the difference.”

We all looked at each other.

“I wouldn’t dare,” said Felicity irresolutely.

“Oh, if that’s all, I’ll do it,” said the Story Girl.

When ten o’clock struck Aunt Janet came into the kitchen, remarking innocently that it hadn’t seemed anytime since nine.  We must have looked horribly guilty, but none of the grown-ups suspected anything.  Uncle Alec brought in the axe, and pried off the cover of the old blue chest, while everybody stood around in silence.

Then came the unpacking.  It was certainly an interesting performance.  Aunt Janet and Aunt Olivia took everything out and laid it on the kitchen table.  We children were forbidden to touch anything, but fortunately we were not forbidden the use of our eyes and tongues.

“There are the pink and gold vases Grandmother King gave her,” said Felicity, as Aunt Olivia unwrapped from their tissue paper swathings a pair of slender, old-fashioned, twisted vases of pink glass, over which little gold leaves were scattered.  “Aren’t they handsome?”

“And oh,” exclaimed Cecily in delight, “there’s the china fruit basket with the apple on the handle.  Doesn’t it look real?  I’ve thought so much about it.  Oh, mother, please let me hold it for a minute.  I’ll be as careful as careful.”

“There comes the china set Grandfather King gave her,” said the Story Girl wistfully.  “Oh, it makes me feel sad.  Think of all the hopes that Rachel Ward must have put away in this chest with all her pretty things.”

Following these, came a quaint little candlestick of blue china, and the two jugs which were to be sent to James’ wife.

“They ARE handsome,” said Aunt Janet rather enviously.  “They must be a hundred years old.  Aunt Sara Ward gave them to Rachel, and she had them for at least fifty years.  I should have thought one would have been enough for James’ wife.  But of course we must do just as Rachel wished.  I declare, here’s a dozen tin patty pans!”