then she too stopped short, for she saw the expression of
Gypsy's face. Astonished and puzzled, wondering what she had done, Joy
turned away to unpack, when her eye fell on the vase with its gorgeous
leaves and berries, and she cried out in real delight: "O--oh, how
_pretty_! Why, we don't have anything like this in Boston."

But Gypsy was only half comforted.

Joy unlocked her trunk then, and for a few minutes they chatted merrily
over the unpacking. Where is the girl that doesn't like to look at
pretty clothes? and where is the girl that doesn't like to show them if
they happen to be her own? Joy's linen was all of the prettiest pattern,
with wonderful trimmings and embroideries such as Gypsy had seldom seen:
her collars and undersleeves were of the latest fashion, and fluted with
choice laces; her tiny slippers were tufted with velvet bows, and of her
nets and hair-ribbons there was no end. Gypsy looked on without a single
pang of envy, contrasting them with her own plain, neat things, of
course, but glad, in Gypsy's own generous fashion, that Joy had them.

"I had pretty enough things when you were in Boston," said Joy,
unfolding her heavy black dresses with their plain folds of bombazine
and crape. "Now I can't wear anything but this ugly black. Then there
are all my corals and malachites just good for nothing. Madame St.
Denis--she's the dressmaker--said I couldn't wear a single thing but
jet, and jet makes me look dreadfully brown."

Gypsy hung up the dress that was in her hand and walked over to the
window. She felt very much as if somebody had been drawing a file across
her front teeth.

She could not have explained what was the matter. Somehow she seemed to
see a quick picture of her own mother dying and dead, and herself in the
sad, dark dresses. And how Joy could speak so--how she _could_!

"Oh--only two bureau drawers! Why didn't you give me the two upper
ones?" said Joy, presently, when she was ready to put away her collars
and boxes.

"Because my things were in there," said Gypsy.

"But your things were in the lower ones just as much."

"I like the upper drawers best," said Gypsy, shortly.

"So do I," retorted Joy.

The hot color rushed over Gypsy's face for the second time, but now it
was a somewhat angry color.

"It wasn't very pleasant to have to give up any, and there are all those
wardrobe shelves I had to take my things off from too, and I don't think
you've any right to make a fuss."