Gyp ate, as the others did. What else could he do? He had caught
glimpses, now and then, of a better way of living, and in his heart
he thought;
"I will not always live like a gypsy."
His teacher had called him "Gyp" as others did.
The next day, he appeared very early at school, and astonished her by
asking shyly if she would call him, by his name, "John."
"Certainly, if you wish it," she said.
"I thought you liked to be called Gyp, and would feel more at home if
I called you that."
"That's _just_ it!" he cried, in quick anger, "I _would_ 'feel at home'
with that old name, but I don't want to '_feel at home_.' I'll not
_always_ live like a gypsy, and I want a decent name, like other boys!"
"That's _right_, Gyp, no _John_!" she said, and both smiled to see how
difficult it was to remember the new name.
"You can be so good and useful that every man, woman and child in
Avondale will be forced to respect the name of John Gifford. I will
speak of this to the pupils, and now that they all see how hard you
are trying to gain knowledge, I think they will be willing to call you
by the name that is really yours.
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