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Updated: July 18, 2025
Tom came up, undecided whether to laugh or scold. "Well, Gypsy Breynton, you've done it now! Now I suppose you must go directly home, and you'll catch cold before you can get there. This is a pretty fix!" "N no," gasped Gypsy, rubbing the water out of her eyes; "I have dry clothes up in the tent. Mother said I should want them. I guess I'll go right up. I'm rather wet, I believe."
Miss Cardrew laid down her arithmetic, opened the letter, and read it. "Gypsy Breynton." The arithmetic class stopped whispering, and there was a great lull in the schoolroom. "Why I never!" giggled Delia.
"Gypsy Breynton will lose her recesses for a week and stay an hour after school tonight," said Miss Cardrew. "Joy, did you put the kitten in my desk?" "No, ma'am," said Joy, boldly. "Nor have anything to do with it?" "No, ma'am," said Joy, without the slightest change of color. "Next!—Sarah Rowe." Of course Sarah had not, nor anybody else.
"The police will take her home you mustn't!" But Gypsy did not hear, and Joy, shocked and indignant, went home and left her. In about an hour Gypsy came back, flushed and panting with her haste. Joy, in speechless amazement, had looked from the window and seen her running across the Common. Her aunt met her on the stairs with a face like a thunder-cloud. "Why, Gypsy Breynton, I am ashamed of you!
"I wouldn't care," said Joy. "Why, Joyce Miranda Breynton!" said Gypsy. But Joy declared she wouldn't, and it was very soon evident that she didn't. She had not the slightest fancy for her studies; neither had Gypsy, for that matter; but Gypsy had been brought up to believe it was a disgrace to get bad marks. Joy had not.
"S'posin' when they'd got Aunt Miranda all nailed into her coffin—tight in—she should be un-deaded, and open her eyes, and begin—begin to squeal, you know. S'pose they'd let her out?" Just four days from the morning Mrs. Breynton left, Tom came up from the office with a very sober face and a letter. Gypsy ran out to meet him, and put out her hand, in a great hurry to read it.
Poor Joy jumped out shivering into the cold again, opened the door softly, and ran out. She came back in somewhat of a hurry, and shut the door with a bang. "Gypsy Breynton!" "What?" "If I ever forgive you!" "What is the matter?" "It's just twenty-five minutes past eleven!" Gypsy broke into a ringing laugh. Joy could never bear to be laughed at.
Tell her she must think as well as she can of her auntie, for Joy's sake, now." Gypsy folded up the paper, and sat silent a moment, thinking her own thoughts, as Tom saw, and not wishing to be spoken to. Those of you who have read "Gypsy Breynton" will understand what these thoughts might be.
Breynton, with a smile that was half amused, half sorrowful. Gypsy cast a deprecating glance around the room, and into her mother's face. "Oh, I did mean to shut the wardrobe door, and I thought I'd taken the broom down stairs as much as could be, but that everlasting Tom had to go and Oh dear! did you ever see anything so funny in all your life?"
They were shut up together a long time, and when Gypsy came out her eyes were red with crying. All that Mrs. Breynton said does not matter here; but Gypsy is not likely soon to forget it. A few words spoken, just as the conversation ended, became golden mottoes that helped her over many rough places in her life.
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