It was nearly recess time; she knew, because she could hear, through the windows, the third geography class reciting.

It was really too bad to be so late.
She went up the steps slowly, the corners of her mouth drawn down as penitently as Gypsy's mouth could well be.
Just inside the door she stopped.

A quick color ran all over her face, her eyes began to twinkle like sparks from a great fire of hickory, and, in an instant, every one of those six sober thoughts was gone away somewhere--nobody could have told where; and the funniest little laugh broke the silence of the entry.
The most interested observer could not have told what Gypsy saw that was so very amusing.

The entry was quite deserted.

Nothing was to be seen but a long row of girls' "things," hanging up on the nails--hats and bonnets, tippets, sacks, rubbers, and baskets; apparently as demure and respectable as hats, bonnets, tippets, sacks, rubbers, and baskets could be.