were at home; certain little jealousies there had
been, selfish thoughts, unkind acts, angry words; but many penitent
hours as well, some confessions, the one to the other, that nobody else
heard, and a certain faint, growing interest in each other. Strictly
speaking, they did not very much _love_ each other yet, but they were
not far from it. "I am getting used to Joy," said Gypsy. "I like Gypsy
ever so much better than I did once," Joy wrote to her father. One thing
they had learned that winter. Every generous deed, every thoughtful
word, narrowed the distance between them; each one wiped out the ugly
memory of some past impatience, some past unkindness. And now something
was about to happen that should bring them nearer to each other than
anything had done yet.

That June night on which they sat at the tea-table discussing the
excursion up Rattlesnake was the beginning of it. When Winnie was
sufficiently mopped up to admit of his locomotion about the house with
any safety to the carpets, he was dispatched to the library on the
errand to his father. What with various wire-pullings of Gypsy's, and
arguments from Tom, the result was that Mr. Breynton gave his consent to
the plan, on condition that the young people would submit to his
accompanying them.

"That's perfectly splend," cried Gypsy; "all the better for having you.
Only, my best beloved of fathers, you mustn't keep saying, 'Gypsy,
Gypsy, be careful,' you know, every time my horse jumps, because if you
should, I'm very much afraid."

[Illustration]

"Afraid of what?"

"That Gypsy wouldn't be careful," said the young lady, folding her hands
demurely. Her father attempted to call her a sauce-box but Gypsy jumped
upon his knee, and pulled his whiskers till he cried out for mercy, and
gave her a kiss instead.

There was an undercurrent of reality in the fun, however. Mr. Breynton's
over-anxiety--fussiness, some people would have called it--his
children were perfectly conscious of; children are apt to be the first
to discover their parents' faults and weaknesses. Gypsy loved her father
dearly, but she somehow always felt as if he must be _managed_.

So it came about that on a certain royal June day, a merry party started
for a horseback ride up Rattlesnake mountain.

"I've a good mind to take my waterproof," said Joy, as they were
starting; "we may not be back till late, and you know how cold it grows
by the river after dark."

"Nonsense!" laughed Gypsy;