CHAPTER VI.
UP IN THE APPLE TREE "Gypsy! Gypsy!" "What's wanted ?" "Where are you ?" "Here." "I don't know where 'here' is." "Well, you'll find out after a while." Winnie trotted along down the garden-path, and across the brook.

"Here" proved to be the great golden-russet tree.

High up on a gnarled old branch, there was a little flutter of a crimson and white gingham dress, and a merry face peeping down through the dainty pink blossoms that blushed all over the tree.

It looked so pretty, framed in by the bright color and glistening sunlight, and it seemed to fit in so exactly with the fragrance and the soft, dropping petals, and the chirping of the blue-birds overhead, that I doubt if even Mrs.Surly would have had the heart to say, as Mrs.Surly was much in the habit of saying,-- "A young lady, twelve years old, climbing an apple-tree! Laws a massy! I pity your ma--what a sight of trainin'clock she must ha' wasted on you!" "It looks nice up there," said Winnie, admiringly, looking up with his mouth open; "I'm acomin'clock up." "Very well," said Gypsy.
Winnie assailed a low-hanging bough, and crawled half way up, where he stopped.
"Why don't you come ?" said Gypsy.
"Oh, I--well, I think I like it better down here.

You can see the grass, and things.