pprehension of a victim of the Inquisition facing the torture
chamber. She advanced hesitatingly towards the Principal's desk, and
stood without speaking, a forlorn enough little figure to have excited
compassion in the most mercenary heart. Miss Poppleton glanced at her
furtively, and looked away again. She had made up her mind not to allow
herself to be worked upon by her feelings, and meant to speak plainly.

[Illustration: AN INTERVIEW WITH MISS POPPLETON]

"It's no use mincing matters, Gipsy!" she began, blustering a little to
hide her own sense of uneasiness. "Here we are at the beginning of
another term, and things are exactly the same as they were at Christmas.
Not a word from your father, or from your New Zealand relations either.
It's plain enough they mean to abandon you! Now, I want you to
understand that I can't be responsible for you. You must think again.
Are there absolutely no relations or friends to whom you can apply?"

Gipsy sighed as she gave the same old answer. Had she been possessed of
any information, how gladly would she have supplied it!

"I can't keep a school for philanthropy," frowned Miss Poppleton. "I'm
afraid your father is an adventurer pure and simple. He's left you on my
hands, and gone off, who knows where? I'll let you have one more term
here, just on the chance of his turning up; but if we've heard nothing
by the summer holidays, then I shall be obliged to apply to the
Emigration Society, and send you out to New Zealand. Your relatives
there would be forced, at least, to support you, though I suppose I
shall have to write down your fees here as bad debts. In the meantime
you must make yourself as useful as you can, out of school hours. You
might help Miss Edith with the mending, and look after No. 1 dormitory.
I can't afford to keep you here on the same footing as an ordinary
pupil. It's an unpleasant business from beginning to end."

Very unpleasant, thought poor Gipsy, as she availed herself of
permission to go. Her proud spirit could not bear her position of
sufferance in the school, and she would almost have preferred to be
handed over to the Emigration Society, and deported to New Zealand. That
her father should be called an adventurer seemed the cruellest cut of
all. The reason for his long silence she could not fathom, but she was
positive he would never abandon her, and her faith in him did not waver.
Some day, if he were still alive, she knew he would come to claim her;