"I have noticed a great improvement in you; but there's one thing wanting yet, that would have kept the button in its place, and had the boots properly taken off and dried at the right time." "What's that ?" asked Gypsy, in a great hurry to go.
"A little more _thoroughness_, Gypsy." This bit of a lesson, like most of Mrs.Breynton's moral teachings, was enforced with a little soft kiss on Gypsy's forehead, and a smile that was as unlike a sermon as smile could be.
Gypsy gave two thoughts to it, while she jumped down stairs three steps at a time; then, it must be confessed, she forgot it entirely, in the sight of Tom coolly walking off down the lane without her.

But words that Mrs.
Breynton said with a kiss did not slip away from Gypsy's memory "for good an a'," as easily as that.

She had her own little places and times of private meditation, when such things came up to her like faithful angels, that are always ready to speak, if you give them the chance.
Tom was still in sight, among the hazel-nut bushes and budding grape-vines of the lane, and Gypsy ran swiftly after him.

She was fleet of foot as a young gazelle, and soon overtook him.

She had just stopped, panting, by his side, and was proceeding to make some remarks which she thought his conduct richly deserved, when the sound of some little trotting feet behind them attracted their attention.
"Why, Winnie Breynton!" said Gypsy.
"Where are you going ?" asked Tom, turning round.
"Oh, nowheres in particular," said Winnie, with an absent air.
"Well, you may just turn round and go there, then," said Tom.