But she did not finish. She rose and went over to the western window, away from the rest, where no one could see her face.
The light was dimming fast; it was nearly dark now, and the crickets were chirping in the distant meadows.
Tom coughed, and came very near trying to whistle. Gypsy screwed the piano-stool round with a sudden motion, and went over to where Joy stood.
Tom and his mother began to talk in a low voice, and the two girls were as if alone.
The first thing Gypsy did, was to put her arms round Joy's neck and kiss her. Joy hid her face on her shoulder and cried softly. Then Gypsy choked a little, and for a while they cried together.
"You see I am so sorry," said Gypsy.
"I know it,—I know it. Oh, Gypsy, if I could see him just one minute!"
Gypsy only gave her a little hug in answer. Then presently, as the best thing she could think of to say:
"We'll go strawberrying to-morrow, and I'll save you the very best place. Besides, I've got a tart upstairs I've been saving for you, and you can eat it when we go up to bed. I think things taste real nice in bed. Don't you?"
"Look here, Gypsy, do you know I love you ever so much?"