Presently, the family down stairs heard a little scream. Winnie stamped up to see what was the matter.
“Why, I’ve found my grammar!” said Gypsy. “It’s the one in marble covers I lost ever—ever so long ago, and had to get a new one. It was right down at the bottom of the drawer!”
Pretty soon there was another little scream, and Gypsy called down the chimney:
“Tom Breynton! What do you think? I’ve found that dollar bill of yours you thought I’d burnt up.”
After awhile there came still another scream, a pretty loud one this time. Mrs. Breynton came up to see what had happened.
“I’ve cut my hand,” said Gypsy, faintly; “there was a great heap of broken glass in my drawer!”
“Broken glass!”
“Yes, I’m sure I don’t know how it came there; I guess I was going to frame a picture.”
Mrs. Breynton bound up her finger, and went down again. She was no more than fairly seated before there came from up-stairs, not a scream, but one of the merriest laughs that ever was heard.
“What is to pay, now?” called Tom, from the entry.