me! If you won't come for a civil request, I won't tease for it."

"Very good," said Tom, laying aside his Euclid; "I like your spunk. Rather
think I'll go."

Tom tossed on his cap and was ready. Gypsy hurried away to array herself
in the complication of garments necessary to the feminine adventurer, if
she so much as crosses the yard; a continual mystery of Providence, was
this little necessity to Gypsy, and one against which she lived in a state
of incessant rebellion. It was provoking enough to stand there in her
room, tugging and hurrying till she was red in the face, over a pair of
utterly heartless and unimpressible rubbers, that absolutely refused to
slip over the heel of her boot, and to see Tom through the window, with
his hands in his pocket, ready, waiting, and impatient, alternately
whistling and calling for her.

"I never _did_!" said Gypsy, in no very gentle tone.

"Hur--ry up!" called Tom, coolly.

"These old rubbers!" said Gypsy.

"What's the matter?" asked her mother, stopping at the door.

"It's enough to try the patience of a saint!" said Gypsy, emphatically,
holding out her foot.

"Perhaps I can help you," said Mrs. Breynton, stooping down. "Why, Gypsy!
your boots are wet through; of course the rubbers won't go on."

"I didn't suppose that would make any difference," said Gypsy, looking
rather foolish. "I got them wet this morning, down at the swamp. I thought
they were dry, though: I sat with my feet in the oven until Patty drove me
off. She said I was in the bread."

"You will have to put on your best boots," said her mother.

"Oh, Tom!" called Gypsy, in despair, as the shrillest of all shrill
whistles came up through the window. "Everything's in a jumble! I'll be
there as soon as I can."

She changed her boots, tossed on her turban, whisked on her sack, and
began to fasten it with a jerk, when off came the button at the throat,
and rolled maliciously quite out of sight under the bed.

"There!" said Gypsy.

"Can't wait!" shouted Tom.

"I mended that sack," said Gypsy, "only yesterday afternoon. I call it too
bad, when a body's trying to keep their things in order, and do up all
their mending, that things have to act so!"

"I think you have been trying to be orderly," said her mother, helping her
to pin the offending sack about the throat, for there was no time now to
restore the wandering button. "I have noticed a great improvement in you;
but there's one thing wanting yet, that