“No, I don’t like beads,” said Zula, hurrying on, and springing lightly into the doorway. Her face was pale and her heart beat quick and hard. She hurried up the stairway, which was well crowded with pupils, and gave a sigh of relief as she reached the top.
“What is the matter?” a teacher asked, who stood near. “Are you ill?”
“I had a pain in my side when I ran up stairs,” replied Zula.
She had seen Crisp and she knew that should he discover that she was there hope was lost.
“Oh, before I would be such a little coward, oh, ho! Afraid of a band of gypsies!” said a rude boy.
“I ain’t afraid,” said Zula, with flashing eyes.
“Oh, but they do say, though, that they will steal little boys and girls and take them away off,” said another.
“They won’t take her though,” broke in a third party, “she looks so much like one; they’d rather have little white ones.”
“Hush,” said the teacher, as Zula stepped forward and raised her hand as if to strike the offender, “stop this quarreling at once.”
Zula dropped her hand and turned quickly away. Her first impulse had been to strike the boy who had insulted her so, but her better nature prevailed and instead of angry words tears were called forth. The teacher after sternly rebuking the boy turned to Zula, saying: