For, a second she looked in gentle surprise at the boy's
dark, eager face.
Then a look of pity made her eyes very soft.
"Oh, Gyp!" she cried, "what is the wish you want granted? I'm not a
fairy, so of course I can't grant it, but,--Oh, Gyp! I'm awfully sorry.
Tell me what the wish is! Sometimes it helps to tell."
Pityingly, and more like a little woman than like the child that she
was, she spoke to comfort him.
For a moment he felt abashed that he had so plainly shown the longing
in his heart, then as she asked again, he cried:
"I want to be _someone_. I want a chance to be _something_ besides
Gyp, the gypsy boy."
"Oh, then that's almost granted _now_!" she cried in quick relief,
"because I heard the teacher say, the other day:
"'That boy will get there! That boy will be someone worth while, and
I mean to help him.'"
"Did she say _that_?" cried Gyp, his eyes showing how little he dreamed
that the work that he was doing was being noticed.
"She truly did," said Sprite, "so while I couldn't grant your wish,
I _could_ tell you that it would come true, and I'm glad of that.
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