"Nevertheless, Gypsy, it was very unkind to deliberately set to work to
annoy me and make me trouble, by getting the school into a frolic.
Anything done to break the order of study-hours, or to withstand any rule
of the school, is always an unkindness to a teacher. There is scarcely a
girl in school that might help me more than you, Gypsy, if you chose."

"I don't see how," said Gypsy, astonished.

"I do," said Miss Melville, smiling, "and I always think a little vote of
thanks to you, when you are quiet and well-behaved. An orderly scholar has
a great deal of influence. The girls all love you, and are apt to do as
they see you do, Gypsy."

There was a little silence, in which Gypsy's eyes were wandering away
under the apple-boughs, their twinkling dimmed and soft.

At last she turned quickly, and threw her arms about her teacher's neck.

"Miss Melville, if you'll give me one kiss, I'll never be an old woman
again, if I live as long as Methuselah!"

Miss Melville kissed her, and whispered one or two little loving words of
encouragement, such as nobody but Miss Melville knew how to say. But Gypsy
never told what they were.

"I believe there's a bolt left out of me somewhere," she said, as they
left the school-house together; "what do you suppose it is?"

"It is the strong, iron bolt, '_stop and think_,' Gypsy."