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Updated: June 13, 2025
Gypsy recovered from her astonishment with a little start, and said, blushing, for fear she had been rude, "Good morning. I'm Gypsy Breynton. Mother sent me down with a magazine." "I am glad to see you," said Peace Maythorne, smiling. "Won't you sit down?" Gypsy took a chair by the bed, thinking how pleasant the old, pale face, was, after all, and how kindly and happy the smile.
Then she said slowly: "Why, Peace Maythorne. I—never could—in this world—never." Just then there came a knock at the door. Gypsy went to open it, and stood struck dumb for amazement. It was Joy. "Auntie said it was supper-time, and you were to come home," began Joy, somewhat embarrassed. "She was going to send Winnie, but I thought I'd come."
"Why, I never!" said Gypsy, still standing with the door-knob in her hand. "Is this your cousin?" spoke up Peace. "Oh, yes, I forgot. This is Peace Maythorne, Joy." "I am glad to see you," said Peace in her pleasant way; "won't you come in?" "Well, perhaps I will, a minute," said Joy, awkwardly, taking a chair by the window, and wondering if Gypsy had told Peace what she said.
If I'm going to give anything to Peace, I don't want her to." "I think Joy has taken a great fancy to Peace. She would enjoy giving her something very much," said Mrs. Breynton, gravely. "I can't help it. Peace Maythorne belongs to me. It would spoil it all to have Joy have anything to do with it."
"Your aunt cross!" said her mother, who could make neither beginning nor end of Gypsy's excited story. "I guess she is," said Gypsy, with an emphasis. "Oh, I am so glad to get home. Where's the kitty, and how's Peace Maythorne and everybody, and Winnie has a new jacket, hasn't he?" Mr. and Mrs. Breynton exchanged glances.
But Peace was so cordial, her voice so quiet, and her eyes so kind, that she concluded she knew nothing about it, and soon felt quite at her ease. Everybody was at ease with Peace Maythorne. "How pleasant it is here!" said Joy, looking about the room in unfeigned astonishment. And indeed it was.
"If I could only earn something!" said Peace, with a quick breath, that sounded like a sigh. "That is hardest of all. But it's all right somehow." "Peace Maythorne!" said Gypsy, in a little flash, "I don't see! never to go out in the wind and jump on the hay, and climb the mountains, and run and row and snowball, why, it would kill me!
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.
Gypsy sat down in her favorite place on the bed, just where she could see the cripple's great quiet eyes—she always liked to watch Peace Maythorne's eyes—and in doing so disturbed the bedclothes. A piece of work fell out: plain, fine sewing, in which the needle lay with a stitch partially taken. "Peace Maythorne!" said Gypsy, "you've been doing it again!" "A little, just to help aunt, you know.
Breynton raised her eyes from her work, but Gypsy was looking out of the window. When the girls went up to bed, Gypsy was very silent. Joy tried to laugh and plague and scold her into talking, but it was of no use. Just before they went to sleep, she spoke up suddenly: "Joy, do you want to give something to Peace Maythorne?" "Splendid!" cried Joy, jumping up in bed to clap her hands, "what?"
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