Sarah climbed up, and sat down beside her upon a long, swaying bough.

"Now don't you speak a single word," said Gypsy, with an industrious air,
"till I get this done."

"No, I won't," said Sarah. "What do you have to sew for, Saturday
afternoons?"

"Why, it's my mending: mother wants me to do it Saturday morning, and of
course it's a great deal easier, because then you have all the afternoon
to yourself, only I never seem to get time; I'm sure I don't know why.
This morning I had my history topics to write."

"Why, I wrote mine yesterday!"

"I meant to, but I forgot; Miss Melville said I musn't put it off another
day. There! I wasn't going to talk."

"Mother does my mending for me," said Sarah.

"She does! Well, I just wish my mother would. She says it wouldn't be good
for me."

"How did you tear such a great place, I'd like to know?"

"Put my foot right through it," said Gypsy, disconsolately. "It was
hanging on a chair, and I just stepped in it and started to run, and down
I went,--and here's the skirt. I was running after the cat. I'd put her
under my best hat, and she was spinning down stairs. You never saw
anything so funny! I'm always doing such things,--I mean like the skirt. I