illing, may I go?"

"Well," said Mrs. Breynton, after a few minutes' thinking, "I guess so; if
Tom will take good care of you; and if you will promise to go to Mr.
Fisher's the rainy nights--I mean if it rains hard."

"Oh, mother, mother Breynton! There never was such a dear little woman in
this world!"

"Why, my _dear_!" said Mr. Breynton, when he heard of it; "how can you let
the child do such a thing? She will fall off the precipice, or walk right
into a bear's den, the first thing."

"Oh, I'll trust her," answered her mother, smiling; "and then, Mrs. Fisher
will be so near, and so ready to take care of her if it is cold or wet; it
isn't as if she were going off into a wild place; of course, then, I
shouldn't let her go without some grown woman with them."

"Well, my dear, I suppose you know best. I believe I agreed to let you do
as you pleased with your girl, seeing she's the only one."

Mrs. Rowe was willing if Mrs. Breynton were willing; Mr. Guy Hallam had no
objections. Sarah was delighted, Gypsy radiant, Tom patronizing, and
Winnie envious, and so, amid a pleasant little bustle, the preparations
began, and one sunny morning the party stowed themselves and their baggage
comfortably away in Mr. Surly's double-seated wagon (much to the horror of
his excellent wife, who looked out of the window, and wondered if Miss
Rowe did expect that wild young un of hers to come home alive), and
trotted briskly out of Yorkbury, along the steep, uneven road that led to
the mountain.

Ripton was a long ride from Yorkbury, and the wagon was somewhat crowded,
owing to the presence of Mr. Surly, who was by no means a thin man, and
who acted as driver. He was to return with his "team," as the Vermont
farmers invariably call their vehicles, and when the party were ready to
come home Mr. Fisher was to be hired to bring them down. It would have
been unsafe for any but an experienced driver to hold the reins on those
mountain roads, as Gypsy was convinced, afresh, before the ride was over.

For the first few miles the way led along the beautiful valley of the
Otter Creek, and then grew suddenly steep as they began to ascend the
mountain. Such beautiful pictures unfolded before them, as they wound
slowly up, that even Gypsy did not feel like talking, and it was a very
silent party.

They passed through pine forests, dense and still, where the wind was
hoarse, and startled squirrels flew over the fallen trunks and boughs of
ruined