I am going to tell him this minute." Gypsy started off, with her cheeks still very red, up the garden paths and down the road, and Sarah followed slowly.

Gypsy's sense of honor had received too great a shock for her to take pleasure just then in Sarah's company, and Sarah had an uneasy sense of having lowered herself in her friend's eyes, so the two girls separated for the afternoon.
It was about a mile to Mr.Breynton's store.

The afternoon was warm for the season, and the road dusty; but Gypsy ran nearly all the way.

She was too much troubled about the accident to think of anything else, and in as much haste to tell her father as some children would have been to conceal it from him.
Old Mr.Simms, the clerk, looked up over his spectacles in mild astonishment, as Gypsy entered the store flushed, and panting, and pretty.
To Mr.Simms, who had no children of his own, and only a deaf wife and a lame dog at home for company, Gypsy was always pretty, always "such a wonderful development for a young person," and always just about right in whatever she did.
"Why, good afternoon, Miss Gypsy," said Mr.Simms; "I'm surprised to see you such a warm day--very much surprised.

But you always were a remarkable young lady." "Yes," panted Gypsy; "where's father, Mr.Simms ?" "He's up in the printing-room just now, talking with the foreman.