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Updated: July 18, 2025
"Worsted are very expensive now," said her mother; "you alone cannot give Peace enough to amount to much." "I don't care," said Gypsy, resolutely, "I want to do one thing Joy doesn't." Mrs. Breynton said nothing, and Gypsy went slowly from the room. "I wish we could give Peace Maythorne something," said Joy, an hour after, when they were all sitting together. Mrs.
She had been sitting so for some time, with her head in her aunt's lap, quite silent, her eyes looking off through the window. "Why not have a little singing?" said Mrs. Breynton, in her pleasant, hushed voice;—it was always a little different somehow, Sunday nights; a little more quiet. Gypsy went to the piano, and usurped Winnie's throne on the stool, much to that young gentleman's disgust.
"Well, I'll go with you, child, if Joy hasn't the politeness to do it," said her uncle, patting her eager face. "Mr. Breynton," said his wife, petulantly, "you are always blaming that child for something." Yet, in the very next breath, she scolded Joy, for delaying her practising ten minutes, more severely than her father would have done if she had told a falsehood. Mr.
"Why, she fell down those horrid stairs and broke her ankle, and wants some salmon and green peas, and I'm going to give her my five dollars, and Oh, white sugar, some white sugar for her tea. I never heard anybody groan so, in all my life!" Mrs. Breynton laid down her work, and laughed. "Why, mother!" said Gypsy, reddening, "I don't see what there is to laugh at!"
This last remark was a stroke of policy on Gypsy's part, for Tom had come in, and it touched a bit of boy's pride, of which Gypsy was perfectly aware he had a good deal. "As if I couldn't take as good care of you as Guy Hallam, or the next man!" he said, in an insulted tone. "Then Tom is willing you should go," observed Mrs. Breynton.
"There is an arm that never tires When human strength gives way— There is a love that never fails When earthly loves decay." Joy tried to sing, but just there she broke down. Gypsy's voice faltered a little, and Mrs. Breynton sang very softly to the end. After that they were all still; Joy had hidden her face. Tom began to hum over the tune uneasily, in his deep bass. A sudden sob broke into it.
Once they passed an old woman on the road hobbling along with a stick. Mr. Breynton reined up and asked if she had seen anything of two children. "Haow?" said the old woman. "Have you seen anything of two children along here?" "Chilblains? No, I don't have none this time o' year, an' I don't know what business it is o' yourn, nuther." "Children!" shouted Mr.
"Mother, Mother Breynton! I never had such a good time in all my life! Oh, I forgot to say I haven't any more idea how to write a journal than the man in the moon. I meant to put that at the beginning so you'd know. "Well, we came on by boat, and you've no idea how that machinery squeaked. I laughed and laughed, and I kept waking up and laughing. "Then—oh, did Joy tell you about my hat?
Breynton was not much in favor of expensive travelling for the children while they were very young; arguing that the enjoyment and usefulness would be doubled to them when they were older. Besides, Gypsy's uncle, though he was her father's brother, had seldom visited Yorkbury.
I did used to bother you and be cross about my practising, and not do as you told me, and I wish I hadn't, and— "Oh—hum, look here—mother," interrupted Gypsy, jumping up and winking very fast, "isn't there a train up from Boston early Monday morning? She might come in that, you know." Mrs. Breynton smiled. "Then she may come, may she?" "I rather think she may," said Gypsy, with an emphasis.
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