awful suspicion that Mr. Jonathan Jones saw her run across his plowed
field after chestnuts, went slowly up to the desk.

"Your mother has sent for you to come directly home," said Miss Cardrew,
in a low tone. Gypsy looked a little frightened.

"Go home! Is anybody sick, Miss Cardrew?"

"She doesn't say—she gives no reasons. You'd better not stop to talk,
Gypsy."

Gypsy went to her desk, and began to gather up her books as fast as she
could.

"I shouldn't wonder a bit if the house'd caught afire," whispered Agnes
Gaylord. "I had an uncle once, and his house caught afire—in the
chimney too, and everybody'd gone to a prayer-meeting; they had now,
true's you live."

"Maybe your father's dead," condoled Sarah Rowe.

"Or Winnie."

"Or Tom."

"Just think of it!"

"What _do_ you s'pose it is?"

"If I were you, I guess I'd be frightened!"