s. Littlejohn.

It was nearly dark when Mrs. Breynton came up from the village, with her
pleasant smile, and her little basket that half Yorkbury knew so well by
sight, for the biscuit and the jellies, the blanc-mange, and the dried
beef and the cookies, that it brought to so many sick-beds. Gypsy had been
watching for her impatiently, and ran down to the gate to meet her.

"Well, did you find her?"

"Oh, yes."

"What do you think of her?" asked Gypsy, a little puzzled by her mother's
expression.

"She is a good deal of a scold, and something of a sufferer," said Mrs.
Breynton. Gypsy's face fell, and they walked up to the house in silence.

"Then you're not going to do anything for her?" asked Gypsy, at length, in
a disappointed tone.

"Oh, yes. She needs help. She can't be moved to the poor-house now, and,
besides, is likely to get well before long, if she is properly taken care
of. I gave her her supper, and have arranged with one or two of the ladies
to send her meals for a few days, till we see how she is, and what had
better be done. I take care of her to-morrow, and Mrs. Rowe takes her the
next day."

"Good!" said Gypsy, brightening; "and I may take her down the things,
mayn't I, mother?"

"If you want to."

Gypsy went to bed as happy as a queen.

The next morning she rose early, to be sure to be in time to take Mrs.
Littlejohn's breakfast; and was disappointed enough, when her mother
thought it best she should wait till she had eaten her own. However, on
the strength of the remembrance of her mother's tried and proved wisdom,
on certain other little occasions, she submitted with a good grace.

She carried Mrs. Littlejohn a very good breakfast of griddle-cakes and
fish-balls and sweet white bread, and was somewhat taken aback to find
that the old woman received it rather curtly, and asked after the salmon.

It was very warm at noon. When she carried the dinner, the walk was long
and wearisome, and Mrs. Littlejohn neglected to call her an angel of
mercy, and it must be confessed Gypsy's enthusiasm diminished perceptibly.

That evening Mr. and Mrs. Breynton were out to tea, and Tom was off
fishing. Mrs. Breynton left Mrs. Littlejohn's supper in a basket on the
shelf, and told Gypsy where it was. Gypsy had been having a great frolic
in the fresh hay with Sarah Rowe, and came in late. No one but Winnie was
there. She ate her supper in a great hurry, and went out again. Patty saw
her from the window, a