CIVILIZING GYPSY NAN.
The first day that Nan was strong enough to sit up Miss Barrington
entered the room, followed by a maid, who was carrying a large box. The
gypsy girl was seated by one of the windows, wrapped in a woolly blue
robe that belonged to Miss Dahlia.
"Anne!" the cold voice was saying, "that is the name I have decided to
call you. Nan is altogether too frivolous for a Christian girl, and that
is what I expect you to become. In order that you may cease to look like
a heathen as soon as possible, I have had your gypsy toggery stored in
the attic and I have purchased for you dresses that are quiet and
ladylike."
Then turning to the maid, she said: "Marie, you may open the box and
spread the contents on the bed."
There were two dresses. One was a dark brown wool, made in the plainest
fashion, and the other was a dull blue.
Nan's eyes flashed. "I won't wear those ugly things!" she cried. "You
have no right to take my own beautiful dress from me." Miss Barrington
drew her self up haughtily as she replied coldly,--
"You will wear the dresses that I provide, or you will remain in your
room. It is my duty, I assure you, not my pleasure, to try to change your
heathen ways."
So saying Miss Barrington departed.
As soon as they were alone Miss Dahlia went over to the side of Nan's
chair, and smoothing the dark hair with a loving hand, she said,
pleadingly: "Dearie, wear them just for a time. My sister will soon be
going to the city and you shall have something pretty."
Then, since the girl's eyes were still rebellious, the little lady opened
a drawer and taking out a box she gave it to Nan.
"Those ribbons and trinklets belonged to Cherise. She would be glad to
have you wear them."
The box contained many hair ribbons, some of soft hues and others of
warm, glowing colors. Too, there was a slender gold chain with a lovely
locket of pearls forming a flower.
"Oh, how pretty, pretty!" the gypsy girl murmured, and then instinctively
wanting to say thank you, and not knowing how, she kissed the wrinkled
cheek of the dear old lady.
That was the beginning of happy times for these two. When Nan was able to
be out in the garden, she had her first reading lesson, and how pleased
she was when at last she could read a simple fairy tale quite by herself
from the beginning to the end.
The elder Miss Barrington, who was interested in culture clubs, was
luckily away much of the time, but one day something happened which made
that proud lady deeply regret that she had tried to civilize a heathen
gypsy.
It was Sunday and the two ladies were ready to start for church. Nan was
to have accompanied them. A neat tailored suit had been provided for her
Sunday wear, a pair of kid gloves and a blue sailor hat. That morning
when the gypsy girl went up to her room, she found a maid there who
informed her that she was to dress at once as the ladies would start for
St. Martin's-by-the-sea in half an hour.
When she was alone, Nan put on the garment that was so strange to her and
the queer stiff hat. She stood looking in the long mirror and her eyes
flashed. She would not wear that ugly head dress. She was not a gorigo
and she would not dress like one. She heard someone ascending the stairs,
and, believing it to be Miss Barrington coming to command that she go to
church with them, Nan darted out into the corridor and opening the first
door that she came to, she entered a dark hall where she had never been
before. A flight of wooden stairs was there and ever so quietly she stole
up, and, opening another door at the top, she entered the attic. Then she
stood still and listened. She heard faint voices far below. Evidently
Miss Barrington was looking for her. Nan glanced about to see where she
would hide if anyone came up the stairs but no one did, and soon she
heard an automobile going down the drive.
Darting to a small window, to her relief, she saw that both ladies were
on their way to church. Then suddenly she remembered something! She had
given her word to dear Miss Dahlia that she would attend the morning
service and she had never before broken a promise, but she could not, she
would not wear that ugly suit and that stiff round hat. As she turned
from the window, a flash of color caught her eye. There was an old trunk
near and a bit of scarlet protruded from beneath the cover. With a cry of
joy, Nan leaped to the spot and lifted the lid. Just as she had hoped, it
was her own beautiful dress.
Gathering it lovingly in her arms, she started down the attic stairs,
tiptoeing quietly lest she attract the attention of a maid.
Once in her room, she locked the door and joyously dressed in the old
way, a yellow silk handkerchief wound about her flowing dark hair, and
the gorgeous crimson and gold shawl draped about her shoulders.
No one saw the gypsy girl as she stole from the back door and into the
garden-all-aglow. She picked a big, curly-yellow crysanthemum (for Miss
Dahlia had told her to gather them whenever she wished) and she fastened
it in the shawl. Then mounting her pony, she galloped down the highway.
She was going to attend the morning services at the little stone church,
St. Martin's-by-the-sea.
At the solemn moment when all heads were bowed in prayer, Nan reached the
picturesque, ivy covered stone church and stood gazing wonderingly in at
the open door.
Never before had this child of nature been in the portal of a church, and
she felt strangely awed by the silence and wondered why the people knelt
and were so still. Nan had never heard of prayer to an unseen God.
Her first impulse was to steal out again and gallop away up the mountain
road where birds were singing, the sun glowing on red pepper berries, and
everything was joyous. The gypsy girl could understand Nature's way of
giving praise to its creator, but she had promised Miss Dahlia that she
would attend the morning service, and so she would stay. Gazing over the
bowed heads with joy she recognized one of them. Her beloved Miss Dahlia
and the dreaded Miss Ursula occupied the Barrington pew, which was near
the chancel.
Tiptoeing down the aisle, she reached the pew just as the congregation
rose to respond to a chanted prayer. Unfortunately Miss Ursula sat on the
outside, and there was not room for Nan. She stood still and gazed about
helplessly. A small boy in front of Miss Barrington had turned, and
seeing Nan, he tugged on his mother's sleeve and whispered: "Look,
Mummie, here's a real gypsy in our church." Miss Ursula turned also, and
when she beheld Nan in that "heathen costume," her face became a deep
scarlet, and the expression in her eyes was not one that should have been
inspired by her recent devotions.
"Go home at once." she said, in a low voice, "and remain in your room
until I return."
Nan left the church. She was glad, glad to be once more out in the
sunshine. She did not want to know the God of the gorigo if He dwelt in
that dreary, sunless place.
As she galloped down the coast highway, how she wished that she might
ride up into the mountains and never return.
Then she thought of Miss Dahlia. Just for a fleeting moment she had
caught that dear little lady's glance when Miss Barrington was dismissing
her, and Nan was almost sure that Miss Dahlia's sweet grey eyes had
twinkled.
"I will only have to stay until the gold blossoms fade," the girl thought
a little later, as she wandered about the garden paths peering into the
curly yellow crysanthemums, wondering how much longer they would last.
With a sigh, Nan went indoors and up to her room.
Undressing, she placed the gown that she so loved in a bureau drawer, and
then, to please Miss Dahlia she put on the simple blue cashmere and sat
with folded hands waiting to hear in what manner she was to be punished.