r aunt had a large dinner company. No one would have
imagined that Gypsy dreaded it in the least; but, in her secret heart, she
did. Joy seemed to be perfectly happy when she was dressed in her
brilliant Stuart plaid silk, with its long sash and valenciennes lace
ruffles, and spent a full half hour exhibiting her jewelry-box to Gypsy's
wondering eyes, and trying to decide whether she would wear her coral
brooch and ear-rings, which matched the scarlet of the plaid, or a
handsome malachite set, which were the newer.

Gypsy looked on admiringly, for she liked pretty things as well as other
girls; but dressed herself in the simple blue-and-white checked foulard,
with blue ribbons around her net and at her throat to match,--the best
suit, over which her mother had taken so much pains, and which had seemed
so grand in Yorkbury,--hoped her aunt's guests would not laugh at her, and
decided to think no more about the matter.

The first half hour of dinner passed off pleasantly enough. Gypsy was
hungry; for she had just come home from a long walk to Williams &
Everett's picture gallery, and the dinner was very nice; the only trouble
with it being that, there were so many courses, she could not decide what
to eat and what to refuse. But after a while a deaf old gentleman, who sat
next her, felt conscientiously impelled to ask her where she lived and how
old she was, and she had to scream so loud to answer him, that it
attracted the attention of all the guests. Then the dessert came and the
wine, and an hour and a half had passed, and still no one showed any signs
of leaving the table, and the old gentleman made spasmodic attempts at
conversation, at intervals of ten minutes. The hour and a half became two
hours, and Gypsy was so thoroughly tired out sitting still, it seemed as
if she should scream, or upset her finger-bowl, or knock over her chair,
or do some terrible thing.

"You said you were twelve years old, I believe?" said the old gentleman,
suddenly. This was the fifth time he had asked that very same question.
Joy trod on Gypsy's toes under the table, and Gypsy laughed, coughed,
seized her goblet, and began to drink violently to conceal her rudeness.

"Twelve years? and you live in Vermont?" remarked the old gentleman
placidly. This was a drop too much. Gypsy swallowed her water the wrong
way, strangled and choked, and ran out of the room with crimson face,
mortified and gasping.

She knew, by a little flash of her au