they
had their mates and their nests, while she had not even a relation to
claim her. She could hear the voices of the girls as they took their
eleven o'clock recreation; each one had a joyful home to return to, and
parents or friends who would shield and protect her.

"I've never had a home!" choked Gipsy. "Oh! I wonder why some people are
always left out of everything?"

Then she sat up suddenly, for there was the sound of a hesitating
footstep in the passage. The key turned, the door opened gently, and
Miss Edith, very nervous and excited, entered the room.

"Oh, Gipsy!" she began tremulously, "Miss Poppleton doesn't know I'm
here, but I felt I must come. Oh! you poor, naughty, naughty child, why
did you do it? How could you, Gipsy? I'd never have thought it possible.
Oh, do be a good girl and own up! Miss Poppleton will forgive you if
you'll only tell the truth--and you know you ought to! For the sake of
what's right, be brave, and don't go on with this dreadful tissue of
lies--it's too wicked and terrible!"

Miss Edith's eyes were full of tears. She laid her hand tenderly on the
girl's shoulder, and looked at her with a world of reproach in her
twitching face. If Miss Poppleton's scolding had been hard to endure,
Miss Edith's concern was far worse. Gipsy seized the kind hand, and held
it tightly.

"Oh, Miss Edie, I can't bear you to misjudge me!" she exclaimed
bitterly. "Indeed, if you only knew, I am telling the absolute, whole
truth. Have I ever told you an untruth before?"

"No, Gipsy. But this, alas! has been so conclusively proved."

"But has it? It all rests on my wet waterproof and galoshes. I don't
know how they got wet, but I do know that I didn't go out in them, and
if I said I did, why, then I should be really telling a falsehood."

Miss Edith sighed with disappointment, and drew her hand reluctantly
away.

"I thought I might have influenced you, Gipsy," she said, with a little
sad catch in her voice. "I'm not clever like my sister, but you were
always fond of me. I can't put things as she does, but I should have
liked to make you feel that doing right is worth while for the sake of
your own conscience. Oh, you poor misguided child, do think it over, and
make an effort! You'll be glad all your life afterwards if you own your
fault, and start afresh. I can't stay any longer now--and you've no
need to tell Miss Poppleton that I came--but I'll be your friend, Gipsy,
if you'll only confess."

Sh