In a second, the dining-room was deserted, and seventy anxious boys stood bareheaded on the piazza, straining their ears to catch any sound above the roar of the wind.
“It’s sleigh-bells!” exclaimed Max.
“Hush!” said Lieutenant Wilde, laying his hand on the shoulder of the lad who was madly dancing up and down. “Listen again.”
This time there could be no mistake. The strong north wind was bringing them the distant sound of bells, and with the jingling, were mingled shouts and whistles, cheers and cat-calls, all of an unmistakably joyous nature. The sounds came nearer and nearer, more and more distinct, until above them all, could be heard Harry’s voice calling out the welcome words,—
“Gyp’s found!”
And the ringing cheer from seventy throats bore the news to the lonely, waiting mother.
CHAPTER X.
THE HOLIDAYS.
Unlike another young woman who shared Gyp’s taste for solitary and unexpected rambles, and who was punished by being put to bed until she was rested, justice descended upon Gypsy, and after the first hour of enthusiasm over the returned prodigal, she was informed that she must spend the rest of the day in her own room, while for a week she could not leave the house nor see any one of the boys who came there. This was a severe blow to the small sinner for she had been regarding herself as the lion of the occasion and expected to be petted and admired for her enterprise, accordingly. However, she knew the firmness of her mother’s discipline too well to rebel, so, with one longing glance out at the hill where the boys were coasting, she picked up Mouse and slowly retired to her room. Once there, she passed the time by telling her furry companion the story of her wanderings, dwelling with an unkind emphasis on the beauty and plumpness of the cat and kittens at the farm.
But not even Gyp’s imprisonment punished her half so much as did the sight of Leon, a week later, when she met him one morning, hopping over to the recitation hall on crutches. Gyp was a tender-hearted child, and fond of Leon, so the knowledge that her running away had been, even indirectly, the cause of his fresh injury nearly broke her small heart; and she tried, with all sorts of coaxing, wheedling arts, to make amends for the suffering she had brought him. The few quick steps which Leon had taken, on that memorable day, had done serious harm to his ankle that had by no means recovered from the previous sprain, and his using his foot was now delayed for weeks instead of days. During the time that Gyp was shut up, he too was a prisoner; but, with no lessons, plenty of books to read, unlimited dainties sent up the hill by the doctor’s wife and the boys running in at all hours, a week spent in bed was rather luxurious than otherwise. It was not quite so much fun when, promoted to crutches and allowed, after a day or two of experimenting on them about his room, to slowly work his way over to his classes, he could watch the fun from a distance without being able to have a share in it. Still, he was somewhat consoled by the doctor’s assurance that he would be able to go home for the holidays, and that he would be walking as well as ever, long before winter was over. With that he was forced to content himself; and, thanks to a happy, sunny temper, he was enabled to make the best of a rather bad matter, and bear the trouble with such perfect good-nature that he won the praise of all the boys and the sincere admiration of his teachers, even to the phlegmatic Herr Linden who said approvingly, one day,—