"Here's lots," he said. "Isn't it lots, Harriet?" "Yes," said Harriet, looking at it greedily. "We might buy a picnic tea for ourselves out of that." "Oh! might we?" said Ralph. "How per-fect-ly bee-tttiful!" The picnic tea was purchased; it was not wholesome. The children went back. Ralph and Harriet had their dinner all alone, for during the trial day the arrangement was that the rest of the school children were not to interfere. Afterwards, they had their picnic tea out of doors, and after that was over, Harriet again spoke of the gipsies, and the delight of knowing them, and the certain fact that they would give them tea, or, perhaps, dinner, in the wonderful house on wheels, and the still more certain fact that Ralph would not be a true boy until he had visited the gipsies with Harriet. On the whole, Harriet considered that her trial day was a success. It was an untidy, flushed, and not a healthy little boy who crept rather late into bed that night, and whom Harriet undressed without troubling herself whether he was washed too carefully or his hair brushed or not. Even to his cry that he had just a _weeny, teeny_ pain, and that he did not feel _quite_ quite well, she made no response. But when she was bidding him good-night, she said:-- "Remember the gipsies, and I am the sort of girl who always keeps her word." "Good-night, dear, dear Harriet!" said the little fellow. "I have had quite a lovely day!" After Harriet went away, it was some time before Ralph fell asleep. Of course, he was a manly boy, and he did not mind a bit being alone, and it was nice, very nice, to have a little room all to himself. But, notwithstanding his bravery, and his fixed determination not to be lonely without Father, and never to cry even the smallest tear, there was an ache in his heart. He kept on thinking so much of his school-mother that he could not sleep. The girls in the school were very nice. Rose had been sweet to him, so had Frederica, so had Patience, and his school-mother of the past day--oh, she had been the most exciting of all. She was not a bit a pretty girl--in his heart of hearts he thought her rather ugly; but she had done things none of the others had done. She had given him adventures--that breakfast out of doors, a box of matches to keep in his own pocket; that ride on Firefly's back--Firefly was a very spirited pony--and the girl had looked on admiringly while Ralph kept his seat; and then the drive to town, and the spending of all Harriet's money on sweetmeats and of all Ralph's money on a picnic tea. Oh, yes; he had had a good day, very good, and there had been no lessons.