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In a moment Lagardere enveloped himself in his gypsy's cloak and flung himself on one of the benches of the Inn, where he lay as if wrapped in the heavy sleep which is the privilege of those that live in the open air and follow the stars with their feet.
See her bright eyes the darling!" "Yes, isn't she cute?" agreed Tess. But, just at that, a second shadow fell athwart the sunny sward, a hand pushed Gypsy's head from the opening, and Mrs. O'Neill's voice said: "If you girls don't want your whereabouts given away, you'd better teach that pony not to stand with her head poked in the door for a half-hour without budging!"
Gypsy squeezed her hand very tightly, with quivering lips. "It's all my fault. I thought I knew. Oh, Joy, I'm so sorry!" She expected Joy to burst forth in a torrent of reproaches; once it would have been so; but for some reason, Joy did not say an angry word. She only sobbed away quietly, clutching at Gypsy's hand as if she were very much frightened. She was frightened thoroughly.
The gypsy's face gleamed with avarice and springing into the water he began to scrape among the stones where it had fallen. The stranger watched him for awhile with an expression of mingled amusement and contempt, and finally said: "Baltasar, I am in haste. You can search for that trifle after I am gone. Let us finish our business. What will you take for the girl?"
Crozz ze ol' gypsy's palm, and zhe will dell your fortune." With every new refusal, the resolute stranger became still more determined. "Pearls are not to be had without a plunge," he murmured to himself, and dismounted. Throwing the bridle of his horse over the limb of a tree, he approached the woman with a threatening gesture.
Gypsy's heart gave a great thump. In that moment, in the moment of that horrible fear and that great relief, Gypsy knew for the first time that she loved Joy, and how much. "It's my ankle," moaned Joy; "it must be broken—I know it's broken." It was not broken, but very badly sprained. "Can you stand on it?" asked Gypsy, her face almost as pale as Joy's.
"I had a horrid time, and I came home very suddenly." "Don't like Boston? Well, you are a remarkable young lady!" exclaimed Mr. Simms, and relapsed into silence, watching Gypsy's flushed and eager face, as people watch a light coming back into a dark room. "We have missed you up at the store, my dear," he said, after a while. "Have you? I'm glad.
Miss Cardrew looked up again, round the room, over the platform, under the desk, everywhere but in it. "Girls, did any of you make that sound?" Nobody had. Miss Cardrew began to read again. All at once Joy pulled Gypsy's sleeve. "Just look there!" "Where?" "Trickling down the outside of the desk!" "You don't suppose she's upset the——" "Ink-bottle—yes."
Her face and arms were brown as a gypsy's, but her hair, rumpled by the white sunbonnet she had worn, was abundant, and her dark eyes and the outlines of her face had not changed. She would always be handsome without regard to age or locality. Nor had the harshness of the wilderness made harsh the soft Southern tongue that was her heritage.
She was in mortal terror every second she was sure she was going to fall but she couldn't bear the vision of Gypsy's reproachful eyes above a strangling halter; Gypsy shouldn't think her hostess, so to speak, less kind than her own mistress. The peach pie came out beautifully and the supper promised to be a great success. Mother had zealously ascertained Rev.
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