"Why, Gyp," Aunt Judith had said, in reply to his statement that he
"didn't see any use for arithmetic," "you mustn't grow to manhood with
no knowledge of arithmetic, or knowledge of figures, or how to reckon.
When you go to work you will need this knowledge. There are few things
that you can do that will not be easier, or better done, and perhaps
be better paid for if you are 'quick at figures.' You must not always
live like a gypsy. You must learn all you can while you are at school,
and then you must work, and earn, and try to be a good, and useful
man. You _can_, I know, if you _try_."

Gyp thought of Aunt Judith's words as he lay on his rude bed that
night.

"She said I needn't always live like a gypsy," he murmured. "She said
I could learn, and then some time I could earn."

He lay a long time, wide awake, repeating Aunt Judith's words of cheer,
and each time that he whispered them, he grew braver, and more
determined.

"They've always said, 'Oh, he's only a gypsy,' but I'll learn, and
I'll earn, and I'll do something. I don't know what, but I'll do
something, see 'f I don't!"

There was no one to dispute his statement, and he dropped to sleep,
and dreamed of doing great deeds.

Ever since he could remember, he had heard the boys of Avondale speak
as if he were a gypsy, and as if that fact explained every bit of