Ellen did not find out all this at once, but in the course of a day or two, during which her visits to the buttery were many. Miss Fortune kept her word, and found her plenty to do; Ellen's life soon became a pretty busy one. She did not like this at all; it was a kind of work she had no love for; yet no doubt it was a good exchange for the miserable moping life she had lately led. Any thing was better than that. One concern, however, lay upon poor Ellen's mind with pressing weight — her neglected studies and wasted time; for no better than wasted she counted it. "What shall I do?" she said to herself, after several of these busy days had passed; "I am doing nothing — I am learning nothing — I shall forget all I have learnt directly. At this rate, I shall not know any more than all these people around me; and what _will_ Mamma say? — Well, if I can't go to school, I know what I will do," she said, taking a sudden resolve — "I'll study by myself! I'll see what I can do; it will be better than nothing, any way. I'll begin this very day!" With new life Ellen sprang up stairs to her room, and forthwith began pulling all the things out of her trunk to get at her books. They were at the very bottom; and by the time she had reached them, half the floor was strewn with the various articles of her wardrobe: without minding them in her first eagerness, Ellen pounced at the books. "Here you are, my dear Numa Pompilius," said she, drawing out a little French book she had just begun to read; "and here you are, old grammar and dictionary — and here is my history — very glad to see you, Mr. Goldsmith! — and what in the world is this? — wrapped up as if it was something great — oh! my expositor; I am not glad to see _you_, I am sure; never want to look at your face or your back again. My copy-book — I wonder who'll set copies for me now; my arithmetic, that's you! — geography and atlas — all right; — and my slate; but dear me, I don't believe I've such a thing as a slate-pencil in the world; where shall I get one, I wonder? — well, I'll manage. And that's all — that's all, I believe." With all her heart Ellen would have begun her studying at once, but there were all her things on the floor, silently saying, "Put us up first." "I declare," she said to herself, "it's too bad to have nothing in the shape of a bureau to keep one's clothes in. I wonder if I am to live in a trunk, as Mamma says, all the time I am here, and have to go down to the bottom of it every time I want a pocket-handkerchief or a pair of stockings. How I do despise those gray stockings! — But what can I do? it's too bad to squeeze my nice things up so. I wonder what is behind those doors? I'll find out, I know, before long."