Winnie stopped short, in considerable astonishment. Gypsy was sitting on the floor beside one of her bureau drawers which she had pulled out of its place. That drawer was a sight well worth seeing, by the way; but of that presently. Gypsy had taken out of it a little box (without a cover, like all Gypsy's boxes) filled with beadwork,--collars, cuffs, nets, and bracelets, all tumbled in together, and as much as a handful of loose beads of every size, color, and description, thrown down on the bottom. Gypsy was sorting these beads, and this was what had kept her so still. Now Winnie, in slamming into the room after his usual style, had stepped directly into the box, crushed its pasteboard flat, and scattered the unlucky beads to all four points of the compass. Gypsy sat for about half a minute watching the stream of crimson and blue and black and silver and gold, that was rolling away under the bed and the chair and the table, her face a perfect little thunder-cloud. Then she took hold of Winnie's shoulder, without any remarks, and--shook him. It was a little shake, and, if it had been given in good temper, would not have struck Winnie as anything but a pleasant joke. But he knew, from Gypsy's face, it was no joke; and, feeling his dignity insulted, down he went flat upon the floor with a scream and a jerk that sent two fresh buttons flying off from his jacket. Mrs. Breynton ran up-stairs in a great hurry. "What's the matter, Gypsy?" "She sh--sh--shooked me--the old thing!" sobbed Winnie. "He broke my box and lost all my beads, and I've got them all to pick up just as I was trying to put my room in order, and so I was mad," said Gypsy, frankly. "Winnie, you may go down stairs," said Mrs. Breynton, "you must learn to be more careful with Gypsy's things." Winnie slid down on the banisters, and Mrs. Breynton shut the door. "What are you trying to do, Gypsy?" "Pick up my room," said Gypsy. "But what had that to do with stringing the beads?" "Why, I--don't know exactly. I took out my drawer to fix it up, and my beads were all in a muss, and so I thought I'd sort them, and then I forgot." "I see several things in the room that want putting in order before a little box of beads," said Mrs. Breynton, with a smile that was half amused, half sorrowful. Gypsy cast a deprecating glance around the room, and into her mother's face. "Oh, I _did_ mean to shut the wardrobe door, and I thought I'd taken the broom down stairs as much as could be, but that everlasting Tom had to go and---- Oh dear! did you ever see anything so funny in all your life?" And Gypsy looked at the image, and broke into one of her rippling laughs. "It is really a serious matter, Gypsy," said Mrs. Breynton, looking somewhat troubled at the laugh.