She wondered that she had never thought of it before.

How many millions of people were enjoying this wonderful day! What a great thing it was to live in such a world, where everything was so beautiful and useful and happy! The very fact that she was alive in it made her so glad.

She felt as if she would like to go off on the rocks somewhere, and shout and jump and sing.
As she walked slowly along past the stores and the crowded tenement-houses, swinging her little letter-basket on her arm, and dreaming away with her great brown eyes, as such young eyes will always dream upon a summer's day, there suddenly struck upon that happy thought of hers a mournful sound.
It was a human groan.
It grated on Gypsy's musing, as a file grates upon smooth marble; she started, and looked up.

The sound came from an open window directly over her head.

What could anybody be groaning about such a day as this?
Gypsy felt a momentary impatience with the mournful sound; then a sudden curiosity to know what it meant.