"A veil? Dear me, no! I can't bear the feeling of a veil. I wore one in the cars through, to keep the cinders off. Then, besides that, I row and coast, and,--oh, I forgot, walking on the fences; it's real fun if you don't tumble off." _"Walking on the fences!"_ "Oh, yes. I always go in the fields where there's nobody round. Then I like to climb the old walls, where you have to jump when the stones roll off from under you." Mrs. Breynton elevated her eyebrows with a peculiar expression, and returned to her novel. Gypsy was one of those happy people who are gifted with the faculty of always having a pleasant time, and the solitaire game was good enough, if it hadn't been so quiet; but when she went up to bed, she looked somewhat sober. She bade Joy good-night, shut herself into the handsomely-furnished room which had been given her, sat down on the floor, and winked hard several times. She would not have objected at that moment to seeing her mother, or Tom, or pulling her father's whiskers, or squeezing Winnie a little, or looking into the dear, familiar sitting-room where they were all gathered just then to have prayers. She began to have a vague idea that there was no place like home. She also came to the conclusion, very faintly, and feeling like a traitor all the time, that her Aunt Miranda was very fashionable and very fretful, and did not treat Joy at all as her mother treated her; that Joy thought her countrified, and had never walked on a fence in all her life; that her uncle was very good, but very busy, and that a fortnight was a rather long time to stay there. However, her uncle's house was not the whole of Boston. All the delights of the great, wonderful city remained unexplored, and who could tell what undreamed-of joys to-morrow would bring forth? So Gypsy's smiles came back after their usual punctual fashion, and she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, to dream that she was sitting in Tom's lap, reading an Arabic novel aloud to Winnie. It might have been about half an hour after, that she woke suddenly with a terrible feeling in her lungs and throat, and sat up in bed gasping, to see the door burst open, and her aunt come rushing in. "Is the house on fire?" asked Gypsy, sleepily. "House on fire! It might have been. It's a wonder you're alive!" "Alive," repeated Gypsy, bewildered. "Why, child, you blew out the gas!" said her aunt, sharply, throwing open the windows. "Didn't you know any better than that?" "I'm so used to blowing out our lamps," said Gypsy, feeling very much frightened and ashamed. "Country ways!" exclaimed her aunt. "Well, thank fortune, there's no harm done,--go to sleep, like a good girl." Gypsy did not relish being told to go to sleep like a good girl, when she had done nothing wrong; nor did her aunt's one chilly kiss, at leaving her, serve to make her forget those few sharp words.