Think, if God took away _your_ mother, Gypsy." "But Joy didn't care much about her mother," said honest Gypsy.

"She used to scold her, Joy told me so herself.

Besides, I heard her, ever so many times." "Peace be with the dead, Gypsy; let all that go.

She was all the mother Joy had, and if you had seen what I saw a night or two before I came away, you wouldn't say she didn't love her." "What was it ?" asked Gypsy.
"Your auntie was lying all alone, upstairs.

I went in softly, to do one or two little things about the room, thinking no one was there.
"One faint gaslight was burning, and in the dimness I saw that the sheet was turned down from the face, and a poor little quivering figure was crouched beside it on the bed.