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Updated: May 18, 2025
My pullet's white, and I set a heap on't an' wouldn't sell it to nobody as come askin' oncivil questions of a lone, lorn widdy. Besides, the cat eat it up las' week, feathers 'n' all." Mr. Breynton concluded there was not much information to be had in that quarter, and drove on. A little way farther they came across a small boy turning somersets in the ditch. Mr.
The crowd passed out, quite careless of the frightened child, or regarding her only with a curious stare. "It's only a little way," said the man, with an oath. "Why, sakes a massy, if this ain't Gypsy Breynton!" Gypsy turned, with a cry of joy, at hearing her name, and fairly sprang into Mrs. Surly's arms. "Why, where on airth did you come from, Gypsy Breynton?"
Breynton was very busy the next day, and forgot all about Gypsy; but the day after he left his store at an early hour, and took her to the Museum, and out to Bunker Hill. That was the happiest day Gypsy spent in Boston. The day after her aunt had a large dinner company. No one would have imagined that Gypsy dreaded it in the least; but, in her secret heart, she did.
"Well, what then?" "If she will do something, and won't be happy without, then I can't help it, you see. But I can give her some worsteds for a Christmas present, and she can make little mats and things, and you can buy them. Now, mother, isn't that nice?" "Yes," said Mrs. Breynton, after a moment's thought. "It is a very good plan. I think Joy would like to join you.
It grew darker and colder, and the red moon rode on silently in the sky. They had come now to the opening of the cross-road, but there were no signs of the children—only the still road and the shadows under the trees. "Hark! what's that?" said Mr. Breynton, suddenly. He stopped the carriage, and they all listened. A faint, sobbing sound broke the silence.
Breynton did not offer to help Gypsy in the task which bade fair to be no easy one, of putting her room in order; but, with a few encouraging words, she went down stairs and left her. It would have been far easier for her to have gone to work and done the thing herself, than to see Gypsy's face so clouded and discouraged. But she knew it would be the ruin of Gypsy.
I know a place where there used to be some splendid foxberry blossoms, lot's of 'em, real pretty; they looked just as if they were snipped out of pearls with a pair of sharp scissors." "I wouldn't go out of sight of us all," called Mr. Breynton, as the two girls roamed away together among the trees. "But you are most out of sight now," said Joy, presently.
It was some seconds before she could find her voice. "A hunch-backed beggar! Peace? How dare you say such things of Peace Maythorne? Joy Breynton, I'll never forgive you for this as long as I live—never!" The two girls looked at each other. Just at that moment I am afraid there was something in their hearts answering to that forbidden word, that terrible word—hate.
It was a little shake, and, if it had been given in good temper, would not have struck Winnie as anything but a pleasant joke. But he knew, from Gypsy's face, it was no joke; and, feeling his dignity insulted, down he went flat upon the floor with a scream and a jerk that sent two fresh buttons flying off from his jacket. Mrs. Breynton ran up-stairs in a great hurry. "What's the matter, Gypsy?"
"I never did!" said Gypsy, in no very gentle tone. "Hur ry up!" called Tom, coolly. "These old rubbers!" said Gypsy. "What's the matter?" asked her mother, stopping at the door. "It's enough to try the patience of a saint!" said Gypsy, emphatically, holding out her foot. "Perhaps I can help you," said Mrs. Breynton, stooping down.
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