the walk, he stopped, and turned leisurely round.

"Oh--Gypsy! Mother want's to know where's the key of the china-closet she
let you have. She's in a great hurry. That's what I come down for; I
s'posed there was something or nuther."

"Why, Winnie Breynton! and you've been sitting there all this----"

"Where's the key?" interrupted Winnie, severely; "mother hadn't ought to
be kept waitin'clock."

"It's up-stairs in--in, I guess in my slippers," said Gypsy, stopping to
think.

_"Slippers!"_

"Yes. I was afraid I should forget to put it up, so I put it in my
slipper, because I should feel it, and remember it. Then I took off the
slippers, and that was the last I thought of it."

"It was very careless," said Winnie, with a virtuous air. It was
noticeable that he took good care to be out of hearing of Gypsy's reply.

Gypsy returned to her seam, and the apple-blossoms, and to her own little
meditations about the china-closet key; which, being of a private and
somewhat humiliating nature, are not given to the public.

The apple-tree stood in one corner of a very pleasant garden. Mr. Breynton
had a great fancy for working over his trees and flowers, and, if he had
not been a publisher and bookseller, might have made a very successful