"I will show you the way," he said, standing up, and reeling slightly as he tried to walk. Gypsy, in despair, looked for the conductor. He was nowhere to be seen. The crowd passed out, quite careless of the frightened child, or regarding her only with a curious stare. "It's only a little way," said the man, with an oath. "Why, sakes a massy, if this ain't Gypsy Breynton!" Gypsy turned, with a cry of joy, at hearing her name, and fairly sprang into Mrs. Surly's arms. "Why, where on airth did you come from, Gypsy Breynton?" "I came from Boston, and that man is drunk, and,--oh, dear! I'm so glad to see you, and I've got to go to a hotel, and I didn't know what mother would say, and where did you come from?" said Gypsy, talking very fast. "I come from my sister Lucindy's, down to Bellows Falls, and I'm going to Cousin Mary Ann Jacobs to spend the night." "Oh!" said Gypsy, wistfully. "I don't see how a little gal like you ever come to be on a night train alone," said Mrs. Surly, with a keen, curious look at Gypsy's face; "but I know your ma'd never let you go to a hotel this time o' night, and Mary Ann she'd be delighted to see you; so you'd better come along." Gypsy was so happy and so thankful, she could fairly have kissed her,--even her, Mrs. Surly. Cousin Mary Ann received her hospitably, and the evening and the night passed quickly away. Mrs. Surly was very curious, and somewhat suspicious on the subject of Gypsy's return to Yorkbury, under such peculiar circumstances. Gypsy said that she left Boston quite suddenly, that they were not expecting her at home, and that she took so late a train for several reasons, but had not thought that it went no further than Rutland, till she was fairly started; which was true. More than this, Mrs. Surly could not cross-question out of her, and she soon gave up trying. Cousin Mary Ann wanted Mrs. Surly's company another day; so Gypsy took an early train for Yorkbury alone. Gypsy never took any trouble very deeply to heart, and the morning sunlight, and the sight of the dear, familiar mountains, drove away, to a great extent, the repentant and anxious thoughts of the night. As the train shrieked into Yorkbury, she forgot everything but that she was at home,--miles away from Boston, her mother near, and Tom, and the dear old days of paddling about on rafts, and having no dinner-parties to disgrace herself at, and no aunt to be afraid of. It seemed as if every one she knew were at the station. Mr. Surly was there, under strict orders from his wife, to watch for her every train till she came; and Mr. Fisher was there, just down on an errand from the mountains; and Mrs. Rowe and Sarah were walking up the street; and Agnes Gaylord was over at the grocer's, nodding and smiling as Gypsy stepped upon the platform; and there, too, was Mr. Simms, who had been somewhere in the cars, and who stepped into the coach just after she did.