happened for which the old woman and the scholars
were equally unprepared. Miss Melville looked through the green veil
straight into the old woman's eyes, and said just one word. She said it
very quietly, and she said it without a smile. It was

"Gypsy!"

There was a great hush. Sarah Rowe was the first to break it.

"Why, that's my sack turned wrong side out!"

"And those are my mitts!" said Agnes Gaylord.

"If you please, Miss Melville, that's my black shawl,--I know it by the
border," piped a very little girl in mourning.

"I do believe that's my waterproof, and Lucy's plaid shawl," giggled Delia
Guest. "Did you _ever_?"

"And my green veil," put in somebody else, faintly.

Miss Melville quietly removed the veil, and Gypsy looked up with her
mischief bright all over her face. Her eyes fell, however, and her cheeks
flushed crimson, when she saw the look about Miss Melville's mouth.

"You may go and put away the things, Gypsy," said Miss Melville, still
without a smile. Gypsy obeyed in silence. The girls stopped laughing, and
began to whisper together behind the desk-covers.

"The school will come to order," said Miss Melville. "Cely, what is the
largest river in New England?--Next."

Gypsy hung up the things, and came slowly back into the room. Miss
Melville motioned her to her seat, but took no further notice of her.
Gypsy, silent and ashamed, took out her spelling-book, and began to study.
The girls looked at her out of the corners of their eyes, and every now
and then Delia Guest broke out afresh into a smothered laugh, but no one
spoke to her, and she spoke to nobody.

The spelling-class was called out, but Miss Melville signified, by a look,
that Gypsy was to keep her seat. Recess came, but Miss Melville was busy
writing at her desk, and took no notice of her, further than to tell the
group of girls, who had instantly clustered buzzing and laughing about
her, that they were all to go out doors and play. They went, and Gypsy sat
still with her head behind the desk-cover. Something in Miss Melville's
manner said, louder than words, that she was displeased. It was a manner
which made Gypsy feel, for once in her life, that she had not one word to
say.

She busied herself with her books, and tried to look unconcerned when the
scholars came back. The arithmetic class recited, but her teacher did not
call for her; the history class, but no one spoke to Gypsy. The disgrace
of this punishment was what Gypsy