against my arm--so. Don't try to talk,"
said Tom, in a quick, business-like tone. But Tom was curiously pale.

"Why, there's no harm done, Tom, dear," said Gypsy, looking up into his
face.

"I can't talk about it, Gypsy--I _can't_, I thought, I----"

Tom looked the other way to see the view, and did not finish his sentence.

"You don't suppose she's going to be a somnambulist?" asked Mr. Breynton.
This was the first time he had remembered to be worried over any of
Gypsy's peculiarities all day. He had spent so much time in looking at
her, and kissing her, and wiping his spectacles.

"No, indeed," said her mother; "it was nothing in the world but
popped-corn. The child will never have another such turn, I'll venture."

And she never did.

It is needless to say that nobody scolded Gypsy for forgetting to lock the
boat. She was likely enough to remember the incident. She had, perhaps,
received a severe punishment for so slight a negligence, but the reader
may rest assured that the boat was always locked thereafter when Gypsy had
anything to do with it.

CHAPTER VI

UP IN THE APPLE TREE

"Gypsy! Gypsy!"

"What's wanted?"

"Where are you?"

"Here."

"I don't know where 'here' is."

"Well, you'll find out after a while."

Winnie trotted along down the garden-path, and across the brook. "Here"
proved to be the great golden-russet tree. High up on a gnarled old
branch, there was a little flutter of a crimson and white gingham dress,
and a merry face peeping down through the dainty pink blossoms that
blushed all over the tree. It looked so pretty, framed in by the bright
color and glistening sunlight, and it seemed to fit in so exactly with the
fragrance and the soft, dropping petals, and the chirping of the
blue-birds overhead, that I doubt if even Mrs. Surly would have had the
heart to say, as Mrs. Surly was much in the habit of saying,--

"A young lady, twelve years old, climbing an apple-tree! Laws a massy! I
pity your ma--what a sight of trainin'clock she must ha' wasted on you!"

"It looks nice up there," said Winnie, admiringly, looking up with his
mouth open; "I'm acomin'clock up."

"Very well," said Gypsy.

Winnie assailed a low-hanging bough, and crawled half way up, where he
stopped.

"Why don't you come?" said Gypsy.

"Oh, I--well, I think I like it better down here. You can see the grass,
and things. There's a black grasshopper here, too."

"What do you want, anyway?" asked Gy