Mrs. Breynton took up a copy of "Harper's Magazine," and handed it to Gypsy. "Tell her I have turned the leaf down at some articles I think will interest her, and ask her if the powder I left her put her to sleep." "Who is Peace Maythorne?" asked Gypsy, wondering. "Is she poor?" "Yes." "How funny to send her a 'Harper's,'" said Gypsy. "Why don't you give her some money, or something?" "Some things are worth more than money to some people," said Mrs. Breynton, smiling. "Why! then you had been into that house before I found Mrs. Littlejohn?" said Gypsy, as the thought first struck her. "Oh, yes; many times." Gypsy started off, with the Magazine under her arm, wondering if there were a house in town, filled with these wretched poor, in which her mother was not known as a friend. Her heart sank a little as she climbed the dark stairs to Mrs. Littlejohn's room. She had begged of her mother a tiny pailful of green peas, with which she hoped to pacify the old woman, but she was somewhat in dread of hearing her talk, and ashamed to confess her own neglect. Mrs. Littlejohn was eating the very nice breakfast which Mrs. Rowe had sent over, and groaning dolefully over it, as Gypsy entered. "Good morning," said Gypsy. "Good morning," said Mrs. Littlejohn, severely. "I went out to play in the hay with Sarah Rowe, and forgot all about your supper last night, and I'm just as sorry as I can be," said Gypsy, coming to the point frankly, and without any attempt to excuse herself. "Oh, of course!" said Mrs. Littlejohn, in the tone of a martyr. "It's all I expect. I'm a poor lone widdy with a bone broke, and I'm used to bein'clock forgot. Little gals that has everything they want, and five dollars besides, and promises me salmon and such, couldn't be expected to remember the sufferin'clock and afflicted,--of course not." It was not an easy nor a pleasant thing to apologize to a person to whom she had played the charitable lady the day before; and Mrs. Littlejohn's manner of receiving the explanation certainly made it no easier. But Gypsy, as the saying goes, "swallowed her pride," and felt that she deserved it. "I've brought you some peas," she said, meekly. "Oh!" said the old woman, relenting a little, "you have, have you? Well, I'm obleeged to you, and you can set 'em in the cupboard." Gypsy emptied her peas into a yellow bowl which she found in the cupboard, and then asked,-- "Can I do anything for you?" "I'm terrible thirsty!" said Mrs. Littlejohn, with a long groan. "There's some water in that air pail." Gypsy went into the corner where the pail stood, and filled the mug with water; then, not being able to think of anything more to say, she concluded to go. "Good mornin'clock," said Mrs. Littlejohn, in a forgiving tone; "I hope you'll come agin."