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—nobody 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.