CHAPTER XV
A School Mystery
After the delightful three weeks spent with the Gordons, Gipsy felt that so pleasant an experience of English home life made it doubly difficult to return to Briarcroft. No news of her father had arrived during her absence, and she was received with black looks by Miss Poppleton. She had begun to dread, with a shrinking, nervous horror, those futile interviews with the Principal—interviews in which she could only state again how little she knew, and listen to fresh reproaches. She tried to brace herself for the ordeal when ordered to the study, but her heart failed her as she tapped at the door, and she entered with something of the apprehension of a victim of the Inquisition facing the torture chamber. She advanced hesitatingly towards the Principal's desk, and stood without speaking, a forlorn enough little figure to have excited compassion in the most mercenary heart. Miss Poppleton glanced at her furtively, and looked away again. She had made up her mind not to allow herself to be worked upon by her feelings, and meant to speak plainly.
"It's no use mincing matters, Gipsy!" she began,
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