"Then why isn't _my_ name Gifford, too?" he persisted.

"Wal, _'tis_. Ye was named John, John Gifford, but ye couldn't seem
ter say that in yer baby days, so ye left off the 'John,' and called,
'Gifford,' 'Gyp,' an' 'Gyp' it has been ever since. Don't they call
ye that at school? I told the ol' feller what come ter say ye must
'tend school that that was yer name."

Gyp did not reply.

He thought best to be silent, and picking up one of his books, he
studied until dinner was ready.

No time was wasted in serving. A very small low table was dragged to
the center of the floor, the kettle was placed upon it, and then, a
hungry circle, they swarmed around it.

The soup was very hot, but each was provided with a long slice of
bread, and these they dipped into the soup, blowing it for a moment,
and then eating it ravenously.

Gyp ate, as the others did. What else could he do? He had caught
glimpses, now and then, of a better way of living, and in his heart
he thought;

"I will not always live like a gypsy."

His teacher had called him "Gyp" as others did.

The next day, he appeared very early at school, and astonished her by