“Gypsy, don’t you wish you were a boy? I’m going to spend a week at Ripton, with Hallam.”
“Mr. Hallam!” exclaimed Gypsy. Mr. Guy Hallam was a lawyer about thirty years old; but Tom had the natural boy’s feeling about “mistering” any one, that he had gone on fishing excursions with, ever since he could remember; while Gypsy was more respectful.
“Ripton!” said Gypsy, again; “Oh, dear me!”
“And going to camp out and have a fire, and cook our trout, and shoot our rabbits,” said Tom, with an aggravating appearance of indifference, as if these were only a specimen of innumerable delights unmentioned.
“Oh, dear me!” said Gypsy, with a long sigh.
“There are several disadvantages in being a girl, my dear, as you will find out, occasionally,” said Tom, with a lordly air.
“Girls are just as good as boys!” answered Gypsy, flashing up.
“Only they can’t camp out.”