She looked up as the door burst open, and Gypsy swept in like a little hurricane, her turban hanging down her neck, her hair loose and flying about an eager face that was all on fire with its warm crimson color and twinkling eyes.
"Why Gypsy!" "Oh, mother, such an old woman--such a poor old woman! groaning right out in the street--I mean, I was out in the street, and heard her groan up two flights of the _crook_edest stairs, and she broke her ankle, and the neighbors won't give her anything to eat, unless she goes to the poor-house and starves, and she hasn't had any dinner, and----" "Wait a minute, Gypsy; what does all this mean ?" "Why, she fell down those horrid stairs and broke her ankle, and wants some salmon and green peas, and I'm going to give her my five dollars, and----Oh, white sugar, some white sugar for her tea.

I never heard anybody groan so, in all my life!" Mrs.Breynton laid down her work, and laughed.
"Why, mother!" said Gypsy, reddening, "I don't see what there is to laugh at!" "My dear Gypsy, you would laugh if you had heard your own story.

The most I can make out of it is, that a little girl who is so excited she hardly knows what she is talking about, has seen an old woman who has been begging for fresh salmon." "And broken her ankle, and is starving," began Gypsy.
"Stop a minute," interrupted Mrs.Breynton, gently.

"Sit down and take off your things, and when you get rested tell me the story quietly and slowly, and then we will see what is to be done for your old woman." Gypsy, very reluctantly, obeyed.

It seemed to her incredible that any one could be so quiet and composed as her mother was, when there was an old woman in town who had had no dinner.