About five o'clock Gypsy walked slowly up the yard with her pail full of nuts, her hat in her hand, and a gay wreath of maple-leaves on her head. With her bright cheeks and twinkling eyes, and the broad leaves casting their gorgeous shadows of crimson and gold upon her forehead, she made a pretty picture—almost too pretty to scold.
Tom met her at the door. Tom was very proud of Gypsy, and you could see in his eyes just then what he thought of her.
"What a little——" he began, all ready for a frolic, and stopped, and grew suddenly grave.
"Where are Joy and Winnie?"
"Haven't they come?"
"No."