Gypsy Breynton Part 4

Just as she had arrived at this conclusion she came to the school-house door. Gypsy and a number of other girls, both her own age and younger, who either were not prepared to enter the high school, or whose parents preferred the select school system, composed Miss Melville's charge. They were most of them pleasant girls, and Miss Melville was an unusually successful teacher, and as dearly loved as a judicious teacher can be. The school-house was a bit of a brown building tucked away under some apple-trees on a quiet by-road. It had been built for a district school, but had fallen into disuse years ago, and Miss Melville had taken possession of it.

Gypsy slackened her pace as she pa.s.sed under the apple-boughs, where the tiny, budding leaves filled all the air with faint fragrance. It was nearly recess time; she knew, because she could hear, through the windows, the third geography cla.s.s reciting. It was really too bad to be so late.

She went up the steps slowly, the corners of her mouth drawn down as penitently as Gypsy's mouth could well be.

Just inside the door she stopped. A quick color ran all over her face, her eyes began to twinkle like sparks from a great fire of hickory, and, in an instant, every one of those six sober thoughts was gone away somewhere--n.o.body could have told where; and the funniest little laugh broke the silence of the entry.

The most interested observer could not have told what Gypsy saw that was so very amusing. The entry was quite deserted. Nothing was to be seen but a long row of girls' "things," hanging up on the nails--hats and bonnets, tippets, sacks, rubbers, and baskets; apparently as demure and respectable as hats, bonnets, tippets, sacks, rubbers, and baskets could be. Yet there Gypsy stood for as much as a minute laughing away quietly to herself, as if she had come across some remarkable joke.

About ten minutes after, some one knocked at the school-room door. Miss Melville laid down her geography.

"Cape Ann, Cape Hatteras, Cape--may I go to the door?" piped little Cely Hunt, holding up her hand. Miss Melville nodded and Cely went. She opened the door--and jumped.

"What's the matter, Cely?--Oh!" For there stood the funniest old woman that Cely or Miss Melville had ever seen. She had on a black dress, very long and very scant, that looked as if it were made out of an old waterproof cloak. Over that, she wore a curious drab-silk sack, somewhat faded and patched, with all the edges of the seams outside. Over that, was a plaid red-and-green shawl, tied about her waist. There was a little black shawl over that, and a green tippet wound twice around her throat with the ends tucked in under the shawl. She had a pair of black mitts on her hands, and she carried a basket. Her face no one could see, for it was covered with a thick green veil, tied closely about her bonnet.

Cely gave a little scream, and ran behind the door. Miss Melville stepped down from the platform, and went to meet the visitor.

"Good arternoon," said the old woman, in a very shrill voice.

"Good afternoon," said Miss Melville, politely.

"I come to see the young uns," piped the old woman. "I ben deown teown fur some eggs, an'clock I heerd the little creaturs a sayin'clock of their lessons as I come by, an'clock thinks says I to myself, says I, bless their dear hearts, I'll go in an'clock see 'em, says I, an'clock I'll thank ye kindly for a seat, for I'm pretty nigh beat out."

The scholars all began to laugh. Miss Melville, somewhat reluctantly, handed her visitor a chair by the door, but did not ask her upon the platform, as the visitor seemed to expect.

"There's a drefful draught here on my neck," she muttered, discontentedly; "an'clock I'm terribly afflicted with rheumatiz mostly. Can't see much of the young uns here, nuther."

"I doubt if there is much here that will interest you," observed Miss Melville, looking at her keenly. "You may rest yourself, and then I think you had better go. Visitors always disturb the children."

"Bless their dear hearts!" cried the old woman, shrilly. "They needn't be afraid of me--_I_ wouldn't hurt 'em. Had a little angel boy once myself; he's gone to Californy now, an'clock I'm a lone, lorn widdy. I say--little gal!" and the stranger pointed her finger (it trembled a little) at Sarah Rowe, who had grown quite red in the face with her polite efforts not to laugh. "Little gal, whar's yer manners?--laughin'clock at a poor ole creetur like me! Come out here, and le's hear ye say that beautiful psalm of Dr. Watts--now!"

"How doth the little busy bee!"

But just then something happened for which the old woman and the scholars were equally unprepared. Miss Melville looked through the green veil straight into the old woman's eyes, and said just one word. She said it very quietly, and she said it without a smile. It was

"Gypsy!"

There was a great hush. Sarah Rowe was the first to break it.

"Why, that's my sack turned wrong side out!"

"And those are my mitts!" said Agnes g.a.y.l.o.r.d.

"If you please, Miss Melville, that's my black shawl,--I know it by the border," piped a very little girl in mourning.

"I do believe that's my waterproof, and Lucy's plaid shawl," giggled Delia Guest. "Did you _ever_?"

"And my green veil," put in somebody else, faintly.

Miss Melville quietly removed the veil, and Gypsy looked up with her mischief bright all over her face. Her eyes fell, however, and her cheeks flushed crimson, when she saw the look about Miss Melville's mouth.

"You may go and put away the things, Gypsy," said Miss Melville, still without a smile. Gypsy obeyed in silence. The girls stopped laughing, and began to whisper together behind the desk-covers.

"The school will come to order," said Miss Melville. "Cely, what is the largest river in New England?--Next."

Gypsy hung up the things, and came slowly back into the room. Miss Melville motioned her to her seat, but took no further notice of her.

Gypsy, silent and ashamed, took out her spelling-book, and began to study.

The girls looked at her out of the corners of their eyes, and every now and then Delia Guest broke out afresh into a smothered laugh, but no one spoke to her, and she spoke to n.o.body.

The spelling-cla.s.s was called out, but Miss Melville signified, by a look, that Gypsy was to keep her seat. Recess came, but Miss Melville was busy writing at her desk, and took no notice of her, further than to tell the group of girls, who had instantly cl.u.s.tered buzzing and laughing about her, that they were all to go out doors and play. They went, and Gypsy sat still with her head behind the desk-cover. Something in Miss Melville's manner said, louder than words, that she was displeased. It was a manner which made Gypsy feel, for once in her life, that she had not one word to say.

She busied herself with her books, and tried to look unconcerned when the scholars came back. The arithmetic cla.s.s recited, but her teacher did not call for her; the history cla.s.s, but no one spoke to Gypsy. The disgrace of this punishment was what Gypsy minded the most, though it was no slight thing to see so many "absent" marks going down on her report, when she was right in the room and had learned her lessons.

After what seemed to her an interminable time, the morning pa.s.sed and the school broke up. The children, controlled by that something in Miss Melville's manner, and by Gypsy's averted head and burning cheeks, left the room quickly, and Gypsy and her teacher were alone.

"Gypsy," said Miss Melville.

There was no answer.

"Gypsy."

There came a faint "Yes'm" from behind the desk-cover. Miss Melville laid down her pencil, closed her own desk, and came and sat down on the bench beside Gypsy.

"I wonder if you are as sorry as I am," she said, simply.

Something very bright glittered on Gypsy's lashes, and two great drops stood on her hot cheeks.

"I don't see what possessed me!" she said, vehemently. "Why don't you turn me out of school?"

"I did not think you could willingly try to make me trouble," continued Miss Melville, without noticing the last remark.

The two great drops rolled slowly down Gypsy's cheeks, and into her mouth.

She swallowed them with a gulp, and brushed her hand, angrily, across her eyes. Gypsy very seldom cried, but I fancy she came pretty near it on that occasion.

"Miss Melville," she said, with an earnestness that was comical, in spite of itself; "I wish you'd please to scold me. I should feel a great deal better."

"Scoldings won't do you much good," said Miss Melville, with a sad smile; "you must cure your own faults, Gypsy. n.o.body else can do it for you."

Gypsy turned around in a little pa.s.sion of despair.

"Miss Melville, _I can't_! It isn't in me--you don't know! Here this very morning I got late to school, tipping Winnie over in a raft--drenched through both of us, and mother, so patient and sweet with the dry stockings she'd just mended, and wasn't I sorry? Didn't I think about it all the way to school--the whole way, Miss Melville? And didn't I make up my mind I'd be as good as a kitten all day, and sit still like Agnes g.a.y.l.o.r.d, and not tickle the girls, nor make you any trouble, nor anything?

Then what should I do but come into the entry and see those things, and it all came like a flash how funny it would be'n I'd talk up high like Mrs.

Surly 'n you wouldn't know me, and--that was the last I thought, till you took off the veil, and I wished I hadn't done it. It's just like me--I never can help anything anyhow."

"I think you can," said her teacher, kindly. "You certainly had the power, when you stood out there in the entry, to stop and think before you touched the things."

"I don't know," said Gypsy, shaking her head, thoughtfully; "I don't believe I had."

"But you wouldn't do it again?"