lie. But I won't say anything
more against her. Poor Joy, poor Joy! Not to have any mother, Tom, just
think! Oh, just _think_!"

CHAPTER II

SHE SHALL COME?

Supper was ready. It had been ready now for ten minutes. The cool, white
cloth, bright glass, glittering silver, and delicate china painted with
a primrose and an ivy-leaf--the best china, and very extravagant in
Gypsy, of course, but she thought the occasion deserved it--were all
laid in their places upon the table. The tea was steeped to precisely
the right point; the rich, mellow flavor had just escaped the clover
taste on one side, and the bitterness of too much boiling on the other;
the delicately sugared apples were floating in their amber juices in the
round glass preserve-dish, the smoked halibut was done to the most
delightful brown crispness, the puffy, golden drop-cakes were smoking
from the oven, and Patty was growling as nobody but Patty could growl,
for fear they would "slump down intirely an' be gittin' as heavy as
lead," before they could be eaten.

There was a bright fire in the dining-room grate; the golden light was
dancing a jig all over the walls, hiding behind the curtains, coquetting
with the silver, and touching the primroses on the plates to a perfect
sunbeam; for father and mother were coming. Tom and Gypsy and Winnie
were all three running to the windows and the door every two minutes and
dressed in their very "Sunday-go-to-meeting best;" for father and mother
were coming. Tom had laughed well at this plan of dressing up--Gypsy's
notion, of course, and ridiculous enough, said Tom; fit for babies like
Winnie, and _girls_. (I wish I could give you in print the peculiar
emphasis with which Tom was wont to dwell on this word.) But for all
that, when Gypsy came down in her new Scotch plaid dress, with her
cheeks so red, and her hair so smooth and black; and Winnie strutted
across the room counting the buttons on his best jacket, Tom slipped
away to his room, and came down with his purple necktie on.

It made a pretty, homelike picture--the bright table and the firelight,
and the eager faces at the window, and the gay dresses. Any father and
mother might have been glad to call it all their own, and come into it
out of the cold and the dark, after a weary day's journey.

These cozy, comfortable touches about it--the little conceit of the
painted china, and the best clothes--were just like Gypsy. Since she
was glad to see her fathe