Gypsy's Cousin Joy

urned v

Tom. And just then her mot

where are t

n't know the way,"

t her come

chestnuts, and Winnie fell

riety of places, but most of the girls wore green-checked dresses, and the boys were in ragged jackets. Gypsy retraced every step of the way carefully from the roadside to the chestnut-trees. Mr. Jonathan Jones, delighted that he had actually caught somebody on his plowed land, came running down with a terrible scolding on his lips. But when he saw Gypsy's utterly wretched face an

a great sinking at her heart, how cold the ni

e-mile square?" asked Mr. Jonathan. "I've been a thinkin' on't as heow the young uns

r hands with delight. "Nobody thought of that, and I'll never run over your plowed-up lan

ke to her except to ask questions now and then as to the precise direction the children took, and the time they started for home. Gypsy leaned back in the carriage, peering o

It seemed to Gypsy like a great, glaring eye, that was singling her out and following her, and asking, "Where are Joy and Winnie?" o

ng along with a stick. Mr. Breynton reined up an

aid the o

ything of two chi

his time o' year, an' I don't know w

. Breynton; "two child

r, can't you? I'm dea

f-two-children-a little b

chickens for yer. My pullet's white, and I set a heap on't an' wouldn't sell it to nobody as come as

s not much information to be ha

boy turning somersets in the ditch. Mr. Brey

asked the boy, with

boy and

wo

es

and a

es

ther was a girl?" repeated the

he girl wore a black dress. They're

nd overwhelming admiration. "That is terribly good in you. Seems to me now

, I'm so glad! Did the little boy ha

as ef 'twas some

at and a long veil?" p

this girl here, and whereabou

etween here an' the village, I reckon. Se

cried Gypsy, "and the b

to remember the mud, and on the whole, I ain't partiklar sure 'bout the veil. Oh, come

e carriage rattled on, he took good care

They had come now to the opening of the cross-road, but there were no s

hey all listened. A faint, sobbing sound broke the silence. Gypsy leaned over th

y I get out

he cross-road, into a clump of bushes

! Oh, Winnie Breynton, do just wake up and

t Joy, exhausted and frightened and sobb

, and, oh, I was so tired, and I sat down to rest, and i

er uncle's arms, and cried

his own piloting, declaring "it was just the next house, right around the corner, Joy; how stupid in her not to know! he knew all the whole of it just as well as anything," and was none the worse for the adventure. Gypsy tried to wake him up, but he doubled up both fists in his dream,

nton said she would like to see

wn in the dining-room alone. Mrs. Breynton drew up her

slipper, and put it on; she rattled the tongs, and pounded the hearth with the poker; she smoothed her hair out of her eyes,

m sorry. Well, I am. But I don't

ly. "You know I have had no time yet to hear what happened

says, Joy wanted to take him. Now, she doesn't know anything about that child, not a thing, and if she'd taken him to places as much as I have, and had to lug him home screaming

k with?" interrup

might have come on with Sarah and Delia an

said Mrs. Bre

climb, and she just hung there swinging; and now, mother, I couldn't help laughing to save me, it was so exactly like a great pendulum with hoops on. Well, Joy was mad 'cause we laughed an

at abou

w-'cause she brought him, you know, and so they came home, and I th

, after a pause, "what

ut w

ou have done ju

tly fair Joy should take Winnie, and of course I wasn't bou

rights, and you had yours, and the arrangement might have been called fai

ge of selfishness was seldom brought against her. Plenty of faults she had, but they were faults of quick temper and carel

in simple

om you knew so well, and not knowing anything about the matters which you talked over. You might, might you not, have by a little effort mad

turned to a s

e in her life. This was her first Saturday afternoon in Yorkbury, and she was, no doubt, feeling lonely and homesick, and it made her none the happier to be laughed a

ith twinkling eyes, "from he

shed Mrs. Breynton, smi

him, and I told her so.

gains, Gypsy; we are speaking of what is kin

t's pause-"it strikes me that I'm a horrid selfish old thing,

nd with the lamp in her hand, her great eyes d

have upper drawers, and

u talking ab

ont side of the bed, and all that, belon

r, laughing. But Gypsy fancied there

as a rattlesnake and Gypsy a prairie-dog, when s

's the matte

you know, and I don't care anything about the front side of the be

e the funnies