and black and silver and gold, that was rolling away under the bed and the
chair and the table, her face a perfect little thunder-cloud. Then she
took hold of Winnie's shoulder, without any remarks, and--shook him.

It was a little shake, and, if it had been given in good temper, would not
have struck Winnie as anything but a pleasant joke. But he knew, from
Gypsy's face, it was no joke; and, feeling his dignity insulted, down he
went flat upon the floor with a scream and a jerk that sent two fresh
buttons flying off from his jacket.

Mrs. Breynton ran up-stairs in a great hurry.

"What's the matter, Gypsy?"

"She sh--sh--shooked me--the old thing!" sobbed Winnie.

"He broke my box and lost all my beads, and I've got them all to pick up
just as I was trying to put my room in order, and so I was mad," said
Gypsy, frankly.

"Winnie, you may go down stairs," said Mrs. Breynton, "you must learn to
be more careful with Gypsy's things."

Winnie slid down on the banisters, and Mrs. Breynton shut the door.

"What are you trying to do, Gypsy?"

"Pick up my room," said Gypsy.

"But what had that to do with stringing the beads?"