I can't bear the feeling of them." "I suppose that's what makes your hands so red and brown," replied Joy, astonished, casting a glance at her own sickly, white fingers, which she was pinching into a pair of very tight kid gloves.
"Here are the Gardens," she said, proudly, as they entered the inclosure.
"Aren't they beautiful?
I don't suppose you have anything like this in Yorkbury.

We'll go up to the Common in a minute." Gypsy looked carelessly around, and did not seem to be very much impressed or interested.
"I'd rather go over into that street where the people and the carriages are," she said.
"Why!" exclaimed Joy; "don't you like it?
See the fountains, and the deer and the grass, and all." "I like the deer," said Gypsy; "only I feel so sorry for them." "Sorry for them!" "Why, they look so as if they wanted to be off in the woods with nobody round.

I like the rabbits better, jumping round at home under the pine-trees.

Then I think the trout-brook, at Ripton, is a great deal prettier than these fountains.

But then I guess I should like the stores," she said, apologetically, a little afraid she had hurt or provoked Joy.
"I never saw anybody like you," said Joy, looking puzzled.