You might take Sarah Rowe and me." Tom smiled a very superior smile.
"Come, Tom, do--there's a good fellow!" "Take along a couple of girls that can't fish, and scream when you shoot a squirrel, and are always having headaches, and spraining their ankles, and afraid to be left alone?
No, thank you!" "I can fish, and I'm no more afraid to be left alone than you are!" said Gypsy, indignantly.

"I'll go and ask mother." She ran down stairs, slamming all the doors, and rushed noisily into the parlor.
"Oh, mother! Tom's going to camp out with Mr.Guy Hallam, and can't Sarah and I go, too ?" "Oh, what now ?" said Mrs.Breynton, laughing, and laying down her work.
"Only for a week, mother, up Ripton--just think! With a tent and a fire, and Mr.Hallam to take care of us." This last remark was a stroke of policy on Gypsy's part, for Tom had come in, and it touched a bit of boy's pride, of which Gypsy was perfectly aware he had a good deal.
"As if I couldn't take as good care of you as Guy Hallam, or the next man!" he said, in an insulted tone.
"Then Tom is willing you should go," observed Mrs.Breynton.
"Why--I don't know," said Tom, who had not intended to commit himself; "I didn't say so." "But you will say so--now, there's a dear, good Tom!" said Gypsy, giving him a soft kiss on one cheek.

Gypsy did not very often kiss Tom unless he asked her, and it was the best argument she could have used; for, though Tom always pretended to be quite above any interest in such tender proceedings, yet this rogue of a sister looked so pink and pretty and merry, with her arms about his neck and her twinkling eyes looking into his, that there was no resisting her.

Gypsy was quite conscious of this little despotism, and was enough of a diplomatist to reserve it for rare and important occasions.
"We--ell," said Tom, slowly; "I don't know as I care, if Hallam doesn't--just for once, you understand; you're not to ask me again as long as you live." "There, there!" cried Gypsy, clapping her hands, and jumping up and down.
"Tom, you are a cherub--a wingless cherub.

Now, mother!" "But supposing it rains ?" suggested Mrs.Breynton.
"Oh, we'll take our water-proofs." "The tent will be dry enough," put in Tom, bringing in his forces like a good soldier, now he was fairly enlisted.
"But if you catch cold and get sick, my dear; Tom won't want to cut short his excursion to bring you home." "There's Mr.Fisher, right on top of the mountain; he'd bring me in his wagon.