"Work or play, there's no system to you.

You're like a----" Tom paused for a simile--"Well, like a toad that's always on the jump." "Ow!" said Gypsy, with a little scream, "there's a horrid old snail crawled out my moss!" and over went moss, flowers, basket, and all, down the roof and upon the stone steps below.

"There! Good enough for it!" Tom coughed and whittled.

Gypsy pulled her net out of her basket, and put up her hair.

There was a little silence.