That was the happiest day Gypsy spent in Boston.
The day after her aunt had a large dinner company.

No one would have imagined that Gypsy dreaded it in the least; but, in her secret heart, she did.

Joy seemed to be perfectly happy when she was dressed in her brilliant Stuart plaid silk, with its long sash and valenciennes lace ruffles, and spent a full half hour exhibiting her jewelry-box to Gypsy's wondering eyes, and trying to decide whether she would wear her coral brooch and ear-rings, which matched the scarlet of the plaid, or a handsome malachite set, which were the newer.
Gypsy looked on admiringly, for she liked pretty things as well as other girls; but dressed herself in the simple blue-and-white checked foulard, with blue ribbons around her net and at her throat to match,--the best suit, over which her mother had taken so much pains, and which had seemed so grand in Yorkbury,--hoped her aunt's guests would not laugh at her, and decided to think no more about the matter.
The first half hour of dinner passed off pleasantly enough.

Gypsy was hungry; for she had just come home from a long walk to Williams & Everett's picture gallery, and the dinner was very nice; the only trouble with it being that, there were so many courses, she could not decide what to eat and what to refuse.

But after a while a deaf old gentleman, who sat next her, felt conscientiously impelled to ask her where she lived and how old she was, and she had to scream so loud to answer him, that it attracted the attention of all the guests.