Gypsys Cousin Joy | Page 9

too stopped short, for she saw the expression of
Gypsy's face. Astonished and puzzled, wondering what she had done,
Joy turned away to unpack, when her eye fell on the vase with its
gorgeous leaves and berries, and she cried out in real delight: "O--oh,

how pretty! Why, we don't have anything like this in Boston."
But Gypsy was only half comforted.
Joy unlocked her trunk then, and for a few minutes they chatted merrily
over the unpacking. Where is the girl that doesn't like to look at pretty
clothes? and where is the girl that doesn't like to show them if they
happen to be her own? Joy's linen was all of the prettiest pattern, with
wonderful trimmings and embroideries such as Gypsy had seldom seen:
her collars and undersleeves were of the latest fashion, and fluted with
choice laces; her tiny slippers were tufted with velvet bows, and of her
nets and hair-ribbons there was no end. Gypsy looked on without a
single pang of envy, contrasting them with her own plain, neat things,
of course, but glad, in Gypsy's own generous fashion, that Joy had
them.
"I had pretty enough things when you were in Boston," said Joy,
unfolding her heavy black dresses with their plain folds of bombazine
and crape. "Now I can't wear anything but this ugly black. Then there
are all my corals and malachites just good for nothing. Madame St.
Denis--she's the dressmaker--said I couldn't wear a single thing but jet,
and jet makes me look dreadfully brown."
Gypsy hung up the dress that was in her hand and walked over to the
window. She felt very much as if somebody had been drawing a file
across her front teeth.
She could not have explained what was the matter. Somehow she
seemed to see a quick picture of her own mother dying and dead, and
herself in the sad, dark dresses. And how Joy could speak so--how she
could!
"Oh--only two bureau drawers! Why didn't you give me the two upper
ones?" said Joy, presently, when she was ready to put away her collars
and boxes.
"Because my things were in there," said Gypsy.

"But your things were in the lower ones just as much."
"I like the upper drawers best," said Gypsy, shortly.
"So do I," retorted Joy.
The hot color rushed over Gypsy's face for the second time, but now it
was a somewhat angry color.
"It wasn't very pleasant to have to give up any, and there are all those
wardrobe shelves I had to take my things off from too, and I don't think
you've any right to make a fuss."
"That's polite!" said Joy, with a laugh. Gypsy knew it wasn't, but for
that very reason she wouldn't say so.
One more subject of dispute came up almost before this was forgotten.
When they were all ready to go to bed, Joy wanted the front side.
"But that's where I always sleep," said Gypsy.
"There isn't any air over the back side and I can't breathe," said Joy.
"Neither can I," said Gypsy.
"I never can get to sleep if I don't have the place I'm used to," said Joy.
"You can just as well as I can," said Gypsy. "Besides, it's my bed."
This last argument appeared to be unanswerable, and Gypsy had it her
way.
She thought it over before she went to sleep, which was not very soon;
for Joy was restless, and tossed on her pillow, and talked in her dreams.
Of course the front side and the upper drawers belonged to her--yes, of
course. She had only taken her rights. She would be obliged to anybody
to show her where she was to blame.
Joy went to sleep without any thoughts, and therein lay just the

difference.
CHAPTER IV
CHESTNUTS
Something woke Gypsy very early the next morning. She started up,
and saw Joy standing by the bed, in the faint, gray light, all dressed and
shivering with the cold.
"Well, I never!" said Gypsy.
"What's the matter?"
"What on earth have you got your dress on in the middle of the night
for?"
"It isn't night; it's morning."
"Morning! it isn't any such a thing."
"'Tis, too. I heard the clock strike five ever so long ago."
Gypsy had fallen back on the pillow, almost asleep again. She roused
herself with a little jump.
"See here!"
"Ow! how you frightened me," said Joy, with another jump.
[Illustration]
"Did I? Oh, well"--silence. "I don't see"--another silence--"what you
wear my rubber--rubber boots for."
"Your rubber boots! Gypsy Breynton, you're sound asleep."
"Asleep!" said Gypsy, sitting up with a jerk, and rubbing both fists into
her eyes. "I'm just as wide awake as you are. Oh, why, you're dressed!"

"Just found that out?" Joy broke into a laugh, and