herself. Her knockabout life had taught her self-control and sound
common sense in many respects, and she was old enough to appreciate the
expediency of the altered plans.

"What school am I to go to?" she asked rather chokily.

"I spoke to Captain Smith about it, and he recommended one at a place
called Greyfield. He said his niece used to be there once, and liked it.
I'm going to take you to-day. We must get the 11.40 train."

"So soon! Oh, Dad! couldn't we have just one more day together?"

"Impossible, Gipsy! I want to catch the mail steamer for Cape Town
to-morrow. This wreck has been a great disaster to us. But
there!--things might have been worse, and I suppose I shall manage to
pull my affairs round in course of time. It's no good crying over spilt
milk, is it? When one's castle comes crashing down about one's ears,
there's nothing to be done but to set one's teeth firmly, and try to
build it up again."

"If only I could help you, Dad! Couldn't I help the least little atom of
a scrap out there?" pleaded Gipsy wistfully.

"You'll help me best by stopping here in England, and making yourself as
happy as you can."

"All right! I'll try to be a Stoic! Only--we've never been six thousand
miles apart before, and--well, it will seem queer to be left all alone
in a country where I simply don't know one single soul."

It was owing to the course of events just narrated that Mr. Latimer,
obliged to choose a school in a hurry, had, on Captain Smith's
recommendation, selected Briarcroft Hall, and, taking Gipsy to
Greyfield, had arranged to leave her in Miss Poppleton's charge until
such time as he could come again and fetch her. How she got on in her
new surroundings, and how her independent Colonial notions contrasted
with more sober English ways, it is the purpose of this story to
chronicle.

CHAPTER III

Gipsy makes a Beginning

BRIARCROFT HALL was a large private school which stood on the outskirts
of the town of Greyfield, close to the border of the Lake District in
Cumberland. It was a big, rather old-fashioned red-brick house, built in
Queen Anne style, with straight rows of windows on either side of the
front door, and a substantial porch, surmounted by stone balls. Years
ago it had been the seat of a county magnate; but as the town began to
stretch out long, growing fingers, and rows of villas sprang up where
before had been only green lanes, and an electric tramway was started
for the conveni