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Updated: July 6, 2025
Oh, she hoped she would find the right kind of book! Mother, back on the porch, looked up from her sewing to watch the disappearing figure, and smiled. "We have our little girl back again," she observed to Aunt Nettie. "I wish that O'Neill girl'd move away," Aunt Nettie said. "Missy's a regular chameleon."
And not even Tess O'Neill, Missy's chum that year, a lively, ingenious, and wonderful girl, was in this case clever enough to obtain complete confidence.
Tubbs laid his neuralgic head upon his soft pillow with the regretful thought: "Now the Grangers cannot come. A pity. Yes." The household at Gray Manor looked upon the heavy fall of snow with varying emotions. Harkness lamented loudly: "It might 'a held off for Missy's party. If it was the old days well, the county lydies could a' come in their sleighs.
Thank God for it," she added, "for I've never forgot master and missy's pretty telling me even poor Diana might think God cared for her." She was taken to see Grandpapa and Grandmamma of course, and they would have helped her and her husband to a settled life had they wished it. But no gipsies they were, and gipsies they must remain.
Here was another photograph though not nearly so alluring as that of the Lady Sylvia; a woman who had become an authoritative expounder of political and national issues politics again! Once again Missy's eyes wandered dreamily out over the yard... Presently a voice was wafted out from the sideporch: "Missy! oh, Missy! Where are you?" There was mother calling bother!
But, as mother stooped to readjust a waving lock, her fingers felt marvellously tender to Missy's forehead. Evening arrived with a sunset of grandeur and glory. It made everything look as beautiful as it should look on the occasion of a festival. The beautiful and festive aspect of the world without, and of, her heart within, made it difficult to eat supper.
"Well, I hear we've got a full-fledged writer in our midst!" Missy's blush deepened. "What I want to know," father continued, "is who's going to darn my socks? I'm afraid socks go to the dickens when genius flies in at the window." As Missy smiled back at him she resolved, despite everything, to keep father's socks in better order than ever before.
Missy gave Raymond a lock of her hair!" Missy's face grew hot; blushing was not now a pleasure; she looked up, then down; she didn't know where to look. "Gimme one, too! You got to play fair, Missy gimme one, too!" Then, in that confusion of spirit, she heard her voice, which didn't seem to be her own voice but a stranger's, saying: "All right, you can have one, too, if you want it, Don."
Sighing again for grown-ups who seldom understand, Missy turned to the Messenger in her lap. Here was a double-page of "Women Who Are Achieving" the reason for the periodical's presence in Missy's society.
Missy liked Raymond, and she was sure she would never want to do anything unkind yet why, at the obvious ill temper of Raymond Bonner, did she feel a strange little delicious thrill? Oh, she was having a glorious time! Once she ran across father, lurking unobtrusively in a shadowed corner. "Well," he remarked, "I see that Missy's come back for a breathing-spell."
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