A few minutes after she returned, the door-bell rang.
"I'll go," she called to Kate; "it's a man I sent here on an errand, and I shall have to see him." "Very well, miss," said Kate, and went singing down the back-stairs with her broom.
"This way," said Gypsy, opening the door.

She led the way to her room, and the man who followed her shouldered her trunk with one hand, and carried it out to a carriage which stood at the door.

Gypsy went into her aunt's room and left a little note on the table where it would be easily seen, threw her veil over her face, felt of her purse to be sure it was safe in her pocket, and ran hastily down stairs after him, and into the carriage.
The man strapped on her trunk, slammed the door upon her, and, mounting his box, drove rapidly away.

Kate, who happened to be looking out of one of the basement windows, saw the carriage, but did not notice the trunk.
She supposed Gypsy was riding somewhere to meet her aunt or uncle, and went on with her dusting.
The carriage stopped at the Fitchburg depot, and Gypsy paid her fare and went into the ladies' room.

The coachman, who seemed to be an accommodating man, though a little curious, brought her a check, and hoped she'd get along comfortable; it was a pretty long journey for such a young creetur to take alone.
Gypsy thanked him, and going up to the ticket-master, asked him something in a low tone.
"In just an hour!" said the ticket-master, in a loud, business-like voice.
"_An hour!_ So long as that ?" "Yes, ma'am." Gypsy drew her veil very closely about her face, and sat down in the darkest corner she could find.