day brought new revelations of Gypsy's intelligence. Missy took
to spending every spare minute at Tess's. Under this new captivation
her own pet, Poppy, was thoughtlessly neglected. And duties such as
practicing, dusting and darning were deliberately shirked. Even reading
had lost much of its wonted charm: the haunting, soul-swelling rhythms
of poetry, or the oddly phrased medieval romances which somehow carried
you back through the centuries--into the very presence of those queenly
heroines who trail their robes down the golden stairways of legend. But
Missy's feet seemed to have forgotten the familiar route to the Public
Library and, instead, ever turned eagerly toward the O'Neills'--that is,
toward the O'Neills' barn.

And, if she had admired Tess before, she worshipped her now for so
generously permitting another to share the wonderful pony--it was
like being a half owner. And the odd thing was that, though Gypsy had
undeniable streaks of wildness, Missy never felt a tremor while on her.
On Gypsy she cantered, she trotted, she galloped, just as naturally and
enjoyably as though she had been born on horseback. Then one epochal
day, emulating Tess's example, she essayed to ride astride. It was
wonderful. She could imagine herself a Centaur princess. And, curiously,
she felt not at all embarrassed. Yet she was glad that, back there in
the lot, she was screened by the big barn from probably critical eyes.

But Gypsy made an unexpected dart into the barn-door, through the barn,
and out into the yard, before Missy realized the capricious creature's
intent. And, as luck would have it, the Reverend MacGill was sitting on
the porch, calling on Grandma Shears. If only it had been anybody but
Rev. MacGill! Missy cherished a secret but profound admiration for
Rev. MacGill; he had come recently to Cherryvale and was younger than
ministers usually are and, though not exactly handsome, had fascinating
dark glowing eyes. Now, as his eyes turned toward her, she suddenly
prickled with embarrassment--her legs were showing to her knees! She
tried vainly to pull down her skirt, then tried to head Gypsy toward the
barn. But Grandma Shears, in scandalized tones, called out:

"Why, Melissa Merriam! Get down off that horse immediately!"

Shamefacedly Missy obeyed, but none too gracefully since her legs were
not yet accustomed to that straddling position.

"What in the world will you girls be up to next?" Grandma Shears went
on, looking