MRS. L. These gypsies never change; their vagabond ways are in the blood. You can do nothing with them. She will be for wandering off, east, west, and north, and be like a caged lioness when she is in the house. EDWARD. They are not real gypsies, mother. I have heard the neighbors say they are poor people, who have assumed the gypsy mode of life to tell fortunes, and impose upon the country people. EDITH. O, yes, mother, they do not seem like real gypsies. I know you can make of her what you will, if you will only let her come. LISA. Do let her come--she is so good to me! I will not leave her. I will go wherever she goes. MRS. L. Well, she may come too; we will try it, and see how it will answer. EDITH. Dear mother, how can I thank you enough? She shall come this very night. Edward, cannot we get her out of jail? EDWARD. It will be impossible, I think. ELINOR. (_rushes in_.) Lisa! my child! LISA. Mother, mother, have you come? (_Throws herself into Elinor's arms_.) MRS. L. How did you come here, woman? ELINOR. O, I ran away; they have not caught me this time. Come, Lisa, we must be off like lightning. LISA. Mother, we are going to stay here, and live in a nice cottage, near Edith. ELINOR. Who said so? They are laughing at you. EDITH. Yes, it is true. Lisa is to be my little scholar. EARNING ONE'S OWN LIVING. “What a shame, girls!” exclaimed Anna; “Clara Morton's things have been sent for, and she is not coming to school any longer. Her father has failed, and they are to give up house and furniture, horses and carriage, and the girls are going out to earn their own living.” “Not really?” said Fanny. “Why, every one knows it.” “You do not mean to say that Clara Morton is going to earn her own living,” said little Effie. “The last person in the world! Why, I do not believe she ever sewed a stitch in her life. She never even brought her own books to school, but had them carried for her by a boy.” “But there are other ways of earning a living besides sewing. Clara plays beautifully, and could give music lessons as well as----; well--perhaps not as well as Mr. Cantari.” “No, indeed! Can you not see one of his queer smiles at the idea of one of us girls giving lessons?” “I know it. How flat one feels, after playing a piece so splendidly, to turn round and meet, for one's only applause, that incomprehensible smile! Poor Clara! I hope that smile will not meet her, wherever she goes in the world. I am sure it will haunt me, for I can never see it without a dim apprehension of the possible fate that awaits our lessons and accomplishments in that formidable ocean into which our school days are to empty.” “Your geographical comparison is very natural for you; but as I do not pride myself upon my acquirements in that branch, I confess I do not see what it has to do with Mr. Cantari's smile.”