Her mind was quite made up.
Just as she had arrived at this conclusion she came to the school-house door.

Gypsy and a number of other girls, both her own age and younger, who either were not prepared to enter the high school, or whose parents preferred the select school system, composed Miss Melville's charge.

They were most of them pleasant girls, and Miss Melville was an unusually successful teacher, and as dearly loved as a judicious teacher can be.

The school-house was a bit of a brown building tucked away under some apple-trees on a quiet by-road.

It had been built for a district school, but had fallen into disuse years ago, and Miss Melville had taken possession of it.
Gypsy slackened her pace as she passed under the apple-boughs, where the tiny, budding leaves filled all the air with faint fragrance.