She might, from her size, have been about sixteen years of age; but her face was like the face of a woman long grown old.

The clothing of the bed partially concealed her shoulders, which were cruelly rounded and bent.
So Peace Maythorne was a cripple.
Gypsy recovered from her astonishment with a little start, and said, blushing, for fear she had been rude,-- "Good morning.

I'm Gypsy Breynton.

Mother sent me down with a magazine." "I am glad to see you," said Peace Maythorne, smiling.

"Won't you sit down ?" Gypsy took a chair by the bed, thinking how pleasant the old, pale face, was, after all, and how kindly and happy the smile.
"Your mother is very kind," said Peace; "she is always doing something for me.