[Illustration: Georgiana of the Rainbows]

GEORGIANA OF THE RAINBOWS

BY

ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

AUTHOR OF TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY, THE GIANT SCISSORS, THE DESERT OF WAITING, ETC. 

 ". . . _Still bear up and steer right onward. _" MILTON

ToMy Little God-daughter"ANNE ELIZABETH"

[Illustration: "At the Tip of Old Cape Cod. "]

Contents

 I. Her Earlier Memories II. Georgina's Playmate Mother III. The Towncrier Has His Say IV. New Friends and the Green Stairs V. In the Footsteps of Pirates VI. Spend-the-Day Guests VII. "The Tishbite" VIII. The Telegram that Took Barby Away IX. The Birthday Prism X. Moving Pictures XI. The Old Rifle Gives Up Its Secret XII. A Hard Promise XIII. Lost and Found at the Liniment Wagon XIV. Buried Treasure XV. A Narrow Escape XVI. What the Storm Did XVII. In the Keeping of the Dunes XVIII. Found Out XIX. Tracing the Liniment Wagon XX. Dance of the Rainbow Fairies XXI. On the Trail of the Wild-Cat Woman XXII. The Rainbow Game XXIII. Light Dawns for Uncle Darcy XXIV. A Contrast in Fathers XXV. A Letter to Hong-Kong XXVI. Peggy Joins the Rainbow-Makers XXVII. A Modern "St. George and the Dragon"XXVIII. The Doctor's Discovery XXIX. While They Waited XXX. Nearing the End XXXI. Comings and Goings

[Illustration: "As Long as a Man Keeps Hope at the Prow He Keeps Afloat. "]

[Illustration: "Put a Rainbow 'Round Your Troubles. "--Georgina. ]

Chapter I

Her Earlier Memories

If old Jeremy Clapp had not sneezed his teeth into the fire that winterday this story might have had a more seemly beginning; but, being a truerecord, it must start with that sneeze, because it was the firsthappening in Georgina Huntingdon's life which she could rememberdistinctly. 

She was in her high-chair by a window overlooking a gray sea, and with abib under her chin, was being fed dripping spoonfuls of bread and milkfrom the silver porringer which rested on the sill. The bowl was almoston a level with her little blue shoes which she kept kicking up and downon the step of her high-chair, wherefore the restraining hand whichseized her ankles at intervals. It was Mrs. Triplett's firm hand whichclutched her, and Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which fed her, so there wasnot the usual dilly-dallying over Georgina's breakfast as when her motherheld the spoon. She always made a game of it, chanting nursery rhymes ina gay, silver-bell-cockle-shell sort of way, as if she were one of the"pretty maids all in a row, " just stepped out of a picture book. 

Mrs. Triplett was an elderly widow, a distant relative of the family, wholived with them. "Tippy" the child called her before she could speakplainly--a foolish name for such a severe and dignified person, but Mrs. Triplett rather seemed to like it. Being the working housekeeper, companion and everything else which occasion required, she had no time tomake a game of Georgina's breakfast, even if she had known how. Not oncedid she stop to say, "Curly-locks, Curly-locks, wilt thou be mine?" or topress her face suddenly against Georgina's dimpled rose-leaf cheek as ifit were somthing too temptingly dear and sweet to be resisted. She merelysaid, "Here!" each time she thrust the spoon towards her. 

Mrs. Triplett was in an especial hurry this morning, and did not evenlook up when old Jeremy came into the room to put more wood on the fire. In winter, when there was no garden work, Jeremy did everything about thehouse which required a man's hand. Although he must have been nearlyeighty years old, he came in, tall and unbending, with a big log acrosshis shoulder. He walked stiffly, but his back was as straight as the longpoker with which he mended the fire. 

Georgina had seen him coming and going about the place every day sinceshe had been brought to live in this old gray house beside the sea, butthis was the first time he had made any lasting impression upon hermemory. Henceforth, she was to carry with her as long as she should livethe picture of a hale, red-faced old man with a woolen muffler woundaround his lean throat. His knitted "wrist-warmers" slipped down over hismottled, deeply-veined bands when he stooped to roll the log into thefire. He let go with a grunt. The next instant a mighty sneeze seizedhim, and Georgina, who had been gazing in fascination at the shower ofsparks he was making, saw all of his teeth go flying into the fire. Ifhis eyes had suddenly dropped from their sockets upon the hearth, or hisears floated off from the sides of his head, she could not have been moreterrified, for she had not yet learned that one's teeth may be a separatepart of one's anatomy. It was such a terrible thing to see a man go topieces in this undreamed-of fashion, that she began to scream and writhearound in her high-chair until it nearly turned over. 

She did upset the silver porringer, and what was left of the bread andmilk splashed out on the floor, barely missing the rug. Mrs. Triplettsprang to snatch her from the toppling chair, thinking the child washaving a spasm. She did not connect it with old Jeremy's sneeze until sheheard his wrathful gibbering, and turned to see him holding up the teeth, which he had fished out of the fire with the tongs. 

They were an old-fashioned set such as one never sees now. They had beenmade in England. They were hinged together like jaws, and Georgina yelledagain as she saw them all blackened and gaping, dangling from the tongs. It was not the grinning teeth themselves, however, which frightened her. It was the awful knowledge, vague though it was to her infant mind, thata human body could fly apart in that way. And Tippy, not understandingthe cause of her terror, never thought to explain that they were falseand had been made by a man in some out-of-the-way corner of Yorkshire, instead of by the Almighty, and that their removal was painless. 

It was several years before Georgina learned the truth, and theimpression made by the accident grew into a lurking fear which oftenhaunted her as time wore on. She never knew at what moment she might flyapart herself. That it was a distressing experience she knew from thelook on old Jeremy's face and the desperate pace at which he set off tohave himself mended. 

She held her breath long enough to hear the door bang shut after him andhis hob-nailed shoes go scrunch, scrunch, through the gravel of the patharound the house, then she broke out crying again so violently that Tippyhad hard work quieting her. She picked up the silver porringer from thefloor and told her to look at the pretty bowl. The fall had put a dentinto its side. And what would Georgina's great-great aunt have said couldshe have known what was going to happen to her handsome dish, poor lady!Surely she never would have left it to such a naughty namesake! Then, tostop her sobbing, Mrs. Triplett took one tiny finger-tip in her largeones, and traced the name which was engraved around the rim in tall, slim-looped letters: the name which had passed down through manychristenings to its present owner, "Georgina Huntingdon. "

Failing thus to pacify the frightened child, Mrs. Triplett held her up tothe window overlooking the harbor, and dramatically bade her "hark!"Standing with her blue shoes on the window-sill, and a tear on each pinkcheek, Georgina flattened her nose against the glass and obedientlylistened. 

The main street of the ancient seaport town, upon which she gazedexpectantly, curved three miles around the harbor, and the narrow board-walk which ran along one side of it all the way, ended abruptly just infront of the house in a waste of sand. So there was nothing to be seenbut a fishing boat at anchor, and the waves crawling up the beach, andnothing to be heard but the jangle of a bell somewhere down the street. The sobs broke out again. "Hush!" commanded Mrs. Triplett, giving her animpatient shake. "Hark to what's coming up along. Can't you stop a minuteand give the Towncrier a chance? Or is it you're trying to outdo him?"

The word "Towncrier" was meaningless to Georgina. There was nothing bythat name in her linen book which held the pictures of all the animalsfrom Ape to Zebra, and there was nothing by that name down in Kentuckywhere she had lived all of her short life until these last few weeks. Shedid not even know whether what Mrs. Triplett said was coming along wouldbe wearing a hat or horns. The cow that lowed at the pasture bars everynight back in Kentucky jangled a bell. Georgina had no distinctrecollection of the cow, but because of it the sound of a bell wasassociated in her mind with horns. So horns were what she halfwayexpected to see, as she watched breathlessly, with her face against theglass. 

"Hark to what he's calling!" urged Mrs. Triplett. "A fish auction. There's a big boat in this morning with a load of fish, and the Towncrieris telling everybody about it. "

So a Towncrier was a man! The next instant Georgina saw him. He was anold man, with bent shoulders and a fringe of gray hair showing under thefur cap pulled down to meet his ears. But there was such a happy twinklein his faded blue eyes, such goodness of heart in every wrinkle of theweather-beaten old face, that even the grumpiest people smiled a littlewhen they met him, and everybody he spoke to stepped along a bit morecheerful, just because the hearty way he said "_Good_ morning!" madethe day seem really good. 

"He's cold, " said Tippy. "Let's tap on the window and beckon him to comein and warm himself before he starts back to town. "

She caught up Georgina's hand to make it do the tapping, thinking itwould please her to give her a share in the invitation, but in her touchyframe of mind it was only an added grievance to have her knuckles knockedagainst the pane, and her wails began afresh as the old man, answeringthe signal, shook his bell at her playfully, and turned towards thehouse. 

As to what happened after that, Georgina's memory is a blank, save for aconfused recollection of being galloped to Banbury Cross on somebody'sknee, while a big hand helped her to clang the clapper of a bell far tooheavy for her to swing alone. But some dim picture of the kindly facepuckered into smiles for her comforting, stayed on in her mind as anobject seen through a fog, and thereafter she never saw the Towncrier gokling-klanging along the street without feeling a return of that samesense of safety which his song gave her that morning. Somehow, itrestored her confidence in all Creation which Jeremy's teeth hadshattered in their fall. 

Taking advantage of Georgina's contentment at being settled on thevisitor's knee, Mrs. Triplett hurried for a cloth to wipe up the breadand milk. Kneeling on the floor beside it she sopped it up soenergetically that what she was saying came in jerks. 

"It's a mercy you happened along, Mr. Darcy, or she might have beenscreaming yet. I never saw a child go into such a sudden tantrum. "

The answer came in jerks also, for it took a vigorous trotting of theknees to keep such a heavy child as Georgina on the bounce. And in orderthat his words might not interfere with the game he sang them to the tuneof "Ride a Cock Horse. "

 "There must have been--some--very good---- Reason for such--a hulla-ba-loo!"

"I'll tell you when I come back, " said Mrs. Triplett, on her feet againby this time and halfway to the kitchen with the dripping floor cloth. But when she reappeared in the doorway her own concerns had crowded outthe thought of old Jeremy's misfortune. 

"My yeast is running all over the top of the crock, Mr. Darcy, and if Idon't get it mixed right away the whole baking will be spoiled. "

"That's all right, ma'am, " was the answer. "Go ahead with your dough. I'll keep the little lass out of mischief. Many's the time I have sat bythis fire with her father on my knee, as you know. But it's been yearssince I was in this room last. "

There was a long pause in the Banbury Cross ride. The Crier was lookingaround the room from one familiar object to another with the gentlewistfulness which creeps into old eyes when they peer into the past forsomething that has ceased to be. Georgina grew impatient. 

"More ride!" she commanded, waving her hands and clucking her tongue ashe had just taught her to do. 

"Don't let her worry you, Mr. Darcy, " called Mrs. Triplett from thekitchen. "Her mother will be back from the post-office most any minutenow. Just send her out here to me if she gets too bothersome. "

Instantly Georgina cuddled her head down against his shoulder. She had nomind to be separated from this new-found playfellow. When he produced abattered silver watch from the pocket of his velveteen waistcoat, holdingit over her ear, she was charmed into a prolonged silence. The clack ofTippy's spoon against the crock came in from the kitchen, and now andthen the fire snapped or the green fore-log made a sing-song hissing. 

More than thirty years had passed by since the old Towncrier firstvisited the Huntingdon home. He was not the Towncrier then, but aseafaring man who had sailed many times around the globe, and had hisfill of adventure. Tired at last of such a roving life, he had foundanchorage to his liking in this quaint old fishing town at the tip end ofCape Cod. Georgina's grandfather, George Justin Huntingdon, a judge and awriter of dry law books, had been one of the first to open his home tohim. They had been great friends, and little Justin, now Georgina'sfather, had been a still closer friend. Many a day they had spenttogether, these two, fishing or blueberrying or tramping across thedunes. The boy called him "Uncle Darcy, " tagging after him like a shadow, and feeling a kinship in their mutual love of adventure which drew asstrongly as family ties. The Judge always said that it was the oldsailor's yarns of sea life which sent Justin into the navy "instead ofthe law office where he belonged. "

As the old man looked down at Georgina's soft, brown curls pressedagainst his shoulder, and felt her little dimpled hand lying warm on hisneck, he could almost believe it was the same child who had crept intohis heart thirty years ago. It was hard to think of the little lad asgrown, or as filling the responsible position of a naval surgeon. Yetwhen he counted back he realized that the Judge had been dead severalyears, and the house had been standing empty all that time. Justin hadnever been back since it was boarded up. He had written occasionallyduring the first of his absence, but only boyish scrawls which toldlittle about himself. 

The only real news which the old man had of him was in the threeclippings from the Provincetown _Beacon_, which he carried about inhis wallet. The first was a mention of Justin's excellent record infighting a fever epidemic in some naval station in the tropics. The nextwas the notice of his marriage to a Kentucky girl by the name of BarbaraShirley, and the last was a paragraph clipped from a newspaper dated onlya few weeks back. It said that Mrs. Justin Huntingdon and littledaughter, Georgina, would arrive soon to take possession of the oldHuntingdon homestead which had been closed for many years. During theabsence of her husband, serving in foreign parts, she would have with herMrs. Maria Triplett. 

The Towncrier had known Mrs. Triplett as long as he had known the town. She had been kind to him when he and his wife were in great trouble. Hewas thinking about that time now, because it had something to do with hislast visit to the Judge in this very room. She had happened to bepresent, too. And the green fore-log had made that same sing-songhissing. The sound carried his thoughts back so far that for a fewmoments he ceased to hear the clack of the spoon. 

Chapter II

Georgina's Playmate Mother

As the Towncrier's revery brought him around to Mrs. Triplett's part inthe painful scene which he was recalling, he heard her voice, and lookingup, saw that she had come back into the room, and was standing by thewindow. 

"There's Justin's wife now, Mr. Darcy, coming up the beach. Poor child, she didn't get her letter. I can tell she's disappointed from the way shewalks along as if she could hardly push against the wind. "

The old man, leaning sideways over the arm of his chair, craned his necktoward the window to peer out, but he did it without dislodging Georgina, who was repeating the "tick-tick" of the watch in a whisper, as she laycontentedly against the Towncrier's shoulder. 

"She's naught but a slip of a girl, " he commented, referring toGeorgina's mother, slowly drawing into closer view. "She must be yearsyounger than Justin. She came up to me in the post-office last week andtold me who she was, and I've been intending ever since to get up thisfar to talk with her about him. "

As they watched her she reached the end of the board-walk, and plungingankle-deep into the sand, trudged slowly along as if pushed back by thewind. It whipped her skirts about her and blew the ends of her fringedscarf back over her shoulder. She made a bright flash of color againstthe desolate background. Scarf, cap and thick knitted reefer were all ofa warm rose shade. Once she stopped, and with hands thrust into herreefer pockets, stood looking off towards the lighthouse on Long Point. Mrs. Triplett spoke again, still watching her. 

"I didn't want to take Justin's offer when he first wrote to me, althoughthe salary he named was a good one, and I knew the work wouldn't be morethan I've always been used to. But I had planned to stay in Wellfleetthis winter, and it always goes against the grain with me to have tochange a plan once made. I only promised to stay until she wascomfortably settled. A Portugese woman on one of the back streets wouldhave come and cooked for her. But land! When I saw how strange andlonesome she seemed and how she turned to me for everything, I didn'thave the heart to say go. I only named it once to her, and she sort ofchoked up and winked back the tears and said in that soft-spokenSouthern way of hers, 'Oh, don't leave me, Tippy!' She's taken to callingme Tippy, just as Georgina does. 'When you talk about it I feel like akitten shipwrecked on a desert island. It's all so strange and dreadfulhere with just sea on one side and sand dunes on the other. '"

At the sound of her name, Georgina suddenly sat up straight and beganfumbling the watch back into the velveteen pocket. She felt that it wastime for her to come into the foreground again. 

"More ride!" she demanded. The galloping began again, gently at first, then faster and faster in obedience to her wishes, until she seemed onlya swirl of white dress and blue ribbon and flying brown curls. But thistime the giddy going up and down was in tame silence. There was noaccompanying song to make the game lively. Mrs. Triplett had more to say, and Mr. Darcy was too deeply interested to sing. 

"Look at her now, stopping to read that sign set up on the spot where thePilgrims landed. She does that every time she passes it. Says it cheersher up something wonderful, no matter how downhearted she is, to thinkthat she wasn't one of the Mayflower passengers, and that she's nearlythree hundred years away from their hardships and that dreadful firstwash-day of theirs. Does seem to me though, that's a poor way to makeyourself cheerful, just thinking of all the hard times you might have hadbut didn't. "

"_Thing_ it!" lisped Georgina, wanting undivided attention, andlaying an imperious little hand on his cheek to force it. "_Thing_!"

He shook his head reprovingly, with a finger across his lips to remindher that Mrs. Triplett was still talking; but she was not to be silencedin such a way. Leaning over until her mischievous brown eyes compelledhim to look at her, she smiled like a dimpled cherub. Georgina's smilewas something irresistible when she wanted her own way. 

"_Pleathe!_" she lisped, her face so radiantly sure that no onecould be hardhearted enough to resist the magic appeal of that word, thathe could not disappoint her. 

"The little witch!" he exclaimed. "She could wheedle the fish out of thesea if she'd say please to 'em that way. But how that honey-sweet toneand the yells she was letting loose awhile back could come out of thatsame little rose of a mouth, passes my understanding. "

Mrs. Triplett had left them again and he was singing at the top of hisquavering voice, "Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, " when thefront door opened and Georgina's mother came in. The salt wind had blowncolor into her cheeks as bright as her rose-pink reefer. Herdisappointment about the letter had left a wistful shadow in her big grayeyes, but it changed to a light of pleasure when she saw who was rompingwith Georgina. They were so busy with their game that neither of themnoticed her entrance. 

She closed the door softly behind her and stood with her back against itwatching them a moment. Then Georgina spied her, and with a rapturous cryof "_Barby!_" scrambled down and ran to throw herself into hermother's arms. Barby was her way of saying Barbara. It was the first wordshe had ever spoken and her proud young mother encouraged her to repeatit, even when her Grandmother Shirley insisted that it wasn't respectfulfor a child to call its mother by her first name. 

"But I don't care whether it is or not, " Barbara had answered. "All Iwant is for her to feel that we're the best chums in the world. And I'm_not_ going to spoil her even if I am young and inexperienced. Thereare a few things that I expect to be very strict about, but making herrespectful to me isn't one of them. "

Now one of the things which Barbara had decided to be very strict aboutin Georgina's training was making her respectful to guests. She was notto thrust herself upon their notice, she was not to interrupt theirconversation, or make a nuisance of herself. So, young as she was, Georgina had already learned what was expected of her, when her motherhaving greeted Mr. Darcy and laid aside her wraps, drew up to the fire totalk to him. But instead of doing the expected thing, Georgina did theforbidden. Since the old man's knees were crossed so that she could nolonger climb upon them, she attempted to seat herself on his foot, clamoring, "Do it again!"

"No, dear, " Barbara said firmly. "Uncle Darcy's tired. " She had noticedthe long-drawn sigh of relief with which he ended the last gallop. "He'sgoing to tell us about father when he was a little boy no bigger thanyou. So come here to Barby and listen or else go off to your own cornerand play with your whirligig. "

Usually, at the mention of some particularly pleasing toy Georgina wouldtrot off happily to find it; but to-day she stood with her face drawninto a rebellious pucker and scowled at her mother savagely. Thenthrowing herself down on the rug she began kicking her blue shoes up anddown on the hearth, roaring, _"No! No!"_ at the top of her voice. Barbara paid no attention at first, but finding it impossible to talkwith such a noise going on, dragged her up from the floor and lookedaround helplessly, considering what to do with her. Then she rememberedthe huge wicker clothes hamper, standing empty in the kitchen, andcarrying her out, gently lowered her into it. 

It was so deep that even on tiptoe Georgina could not look over the rim. All she could see was the ceiling directly overhead. The surprise of sucha novel punishment made her hold her breath to find what was going tohappen next, and in the stillness she heard her mother say calmly as shewalked out of the room: "If she roars any more, Tippy, just put the lidon; but as soon as she is ready to act like a little lady, lift her out, please. "

The strangeness of her surroundings kept her quiet a moment longer, andin that moment she discovered that by putting one eye to a loosely-wovenspot in the hamper she could see what Mrs. Triplett was doing. She waspolishing the silver porringer, trying to rub out the dent which the fallhad made in its side. It was such an interesting kitchen, seen throughthis peep-hole that Georgina became absorbed in rolling her eye aroundfor wider views. Then she found another outlook on the other side of thehamper, and was quiet so long that Mrs. Triplett came over and peereddown at her to see what was the matter. Georgina looked up at her with aroguish smile. One never knew how she was going to take a punishment orwhat she would do next. 

"Are you ready to be a little lady now? Want me to lift you out?" Bothlittle arms were stretched joyously up to her, and a voice of angelicsweetness said coaxingly: "_Pleathe_, Tippy. "

The porringer was in Mrs. Triplett's hand when she leaned over the hamperto ask the question. The gleam of its freshly-polished sides caughtGeorgina's attention an instant before she was lifted out, and it wasimpressed on her memory still more deeply by being put into her own handsafterwards as she sat in Mrs. Triplett's lap. Once more her tiny finger'stip was made to trace the letters engraved around the rim, as she wastold about her great-great aunt and what was expected of her. The solemntone clutched her attention as firmly as the hand which held her, andsomehow, before she was set free, she was made to feel that because ofthat old porringer she was obliged to be a little lady. 

Tippy was not one who could sit calmly by and see a child suffer for lackof proper instruction, and while Georgina never knew just how it wasdone, the fact was impressed upon her as years went by that there weremany things which she could not do, simply because she was a Huntingdonand because her name had been graven for so many generations around thatshining silver rim. 

Although to older eyes the happenings of that morning were trivial, theywere far-reaching in their importance to Georgina, for they gave herthree memories--Jeremy's teeth, the Towncrier's bell, and her own name onthe porringer--to make a deep impression on all her after-life. 

Chapter III

The Towncrier Has His Say

The old Huntingdon house with its gray gables and stone chimneys, stoodon the beach near the breakwater, just beyond the place where everythingseemed to come to an end. The house itself marked the end of the town. Back of it the dreary dunes stretched away toward the Atlantic, and infront the Cape ran out in a long, thin tongue of sand between the bay andthe harbor, with a lighthouse on its farthest point. It gave one thefeeling of being at the very tip end of the world to look across and seethe water closing in on both sides. Even the road ended in front of thehouse in a broad loop in which machines could turn around. 

In summer there was always a string of sightseers coming up to this endof the beach. They came to read the tablet erected on the spot known toGeorgina as "holy ground, " because it marked the first landing of thePilgrims. Long before she could read, Mrs. Triplett taught her to lisppart of a poem which said:

 "Aye, call it holy ground, The thoil where firth they trod. "

She taught it to Georgina because she thought it was only fair to Justinthat his child should grow up to be as proud of her New England home asshe was of her Southern one. Barbara was always singing to her about "MyOld Kentucky Home, " and "Going Back to Dixie, " and when they playedtogether on the beach their favorite game was building GrandfatherShirley's house in the sand. 

Day after day they built it up with shells and wet sand and pebbles, evento the stately gate posts topped by lanterns. Twigs of bayberry and wildbeach plum made trees with which to border its avenues, and every deardelight of swing and arbor and garden pool beloved in Barbara's play-days, was reproduced in miniature until Georgina loved them, too. Sheknew just where the bee-hives ought to be put, and the sun-dial, and thehole in the fence where the little pigs squeezed through. There was astory for everything. By the time she had outgrown her lisp she couldmake the whole fair structure by herself, without even a suggestion fromBarbara. 

When she grew older the shore was her schoolroom also. She learned toread from letters traced in the sand, and to make them herself withshells and pebbles. She did her sums that, way, too, after she hadlearned to count the sails in the harbor, the gulls feeding at ebb-tide, and the great granite blocks which formed the break-water. 

Mrs. Triplett's time for lessons was when Georgina was following herabout the house. Such following taught her to move briskly, for Tippy, like time and tide, never waited, and it behooved one to be close at herheels if one would see what she put into a pan before she whisked it intothe oven. Also it was necessary to keep up with her as she moved swiftlyfrom the cellar to the pantry if one would hear her thrilling tales ofIndians and early settlers and brave forefathers of colony times. 

There was a powder horn hanging over the dining room mantel, which hadbeen in the battle of Lexington, and Tippy expected Georgina to find thesame inspiration in it which she did, because the forefather who carriedit was an ancestor of each. 

"The idea of a descendant of one of the Minutemen being afraid of_rats!_" she would say with a scornful rolling of her words whichseemed to wither her listener with ridicule. "Or of an empty garret!_Tut!_"

When Georgina was no more than six, that disgusted "Tut!" would start herinstantly down a dark cellar-way or up into the dreaded garret, even whenshe could feel the goose-flesh rising all over her. Between theporringer, which obliged her to be a little lady, and the powder horn, which obliged her to be brave, even while she shivered, some timesGeorgina felt that she had almost too much to live up to. There weretimes when she was sorry that she had ancestors. She was proud to thinkthat one of them shared in the honors of the tall Pilgrim monumentoverlooking the town and harbor, but there were days when she would havetraded him gladly far an hour's play with two little Portugese boys andtheir sister, who often wandered up to the dunes back of the house. 

She had watched them often enough to know that their names were Manueland Joseph and Rosa. They were beautiful children, such as some of theold masters delighted to paint, but they fought and quarreled and--Tippysaid--used "shocking language. " That is why Georgina was not allowed toplay with them, but she often stood at the back gate watching them, envying their good times together and hoping to hear a sample of theirshocking language. 

One day when they strolled by dragging a young puppy in a rusty saucepanby a string tied to the handle, the temptation to join them overcame her. Inch by inch her hand moved up nearer the forbidden gate latch and shewas just slipping through when old Jeremy, hidden behind a hedge where hewas weeding the borders, rose up like an all-seeing dragon and roared ather, "Coom away, lass! Ye maun't do that!"

She had not known that he was anywhere around, and the voice comingsuddenly out of the unseen startled her so that her heart seemed to jumpup into her throat. It made her angry, too. Only the moment before shehad heard Rosa scream at Manuel, "You ain't my boss; shut your bigmouth!"

It was on the tip of her tongue to scream the same thing at old Jeremyand see what would happen. She felt, instinctively, that this wasshocking language. But she had not yet outgrown the lurking fear whichalways seized her in his presence that either her teeth or his might flyout if she wasn't careful, so she made no answer. But compelled to venther inward rebellion in some way, she turned her back on the hedge thatscreened him and shook the gate till the latch rattled. 

Looking up she saw the tall Pilgrim monument towering over the town likea watchful giant. She had a feeling that it, too, was spying on her. Nomatter where she went, even away out in the harbor in a motor boat, itwas always stretching its long neck up to watch her. Shaking back hercurls, she looked up at it defiantly and made a face at it, just theugliest pucker of a face she could twist her little features into. 

But it was only on rare occasions that Georgina felt the longing forplaymates of her own age. Usually she was busy with her lessons orhappily following her mother and Mrs. Triplett around the house, sharingall their occupations. In jelly-making time she had the scrapings of thekettle to fill her own little glass. When they sewed she sewed with them, even when she was so small that she had to have the thread tied in theneedle's eye, and could do no more than pucker up a piece of soft goodsinto big wallops. But by the time she was nine years old she had learnedto make such neat stitches that Barbara sent specimens of her needleworkback to Kentucky, and folded others away in a little trunk of keepsakes, to save for her until she should be grown. 

Abo by the time she was nine she could play quite creditably a number ofsimple Etudes on the tinkly old piano which had lost some of its ivories. Her daily practicing was one of the few things about which Barbara wasstrict. So much attention had been given to her own education in musicthat she found joy in keeping up her interest in it, and wanted to makeit one of Georgina's chief sources of pleasure. To that end she mixed thestories of the great operas and composers with her fairy tales and folklore, until the child knew them as intimately as she did her HansAndersen and Uncle Remus. 

They often acted stories together, too. Even Mrs. Triplett was draggedinto these, albeit unwillingly, for minor but necessary parts. Forinstance, in "Lord Ullin's Daughter, " she could keep on with her knittingand at the same time do "the horsemen hard behind us ride, " by clappingher heels on the hearth to sound like hoof-beats. 

Acting came as naturally to Georgina as breathing. She could not repeatthe simplest message without unconsciously imitating the tone and gestureof the one who sent it. This dramatic instinct made a good reader of herwhen she took her turn with Barbara in reading aloud. They used to takepage about, sitting with their arms around each other on the old claw-foot sofa, backed up against the library table. 

At such performances the old Towncrier was often an interested spectator. Barbara welcomed him when he first came because he seemed to want to talkabout Justin as much as she desired to hear. Later she welcomed him forhis own sake, and grew to depend upon him for counsel and encouragement. Most of all she appreciated his affectionate interest in Georgina. If hehad been her own grandfather he could not have taken greater pride in herlittle accomplishments. More than once he had tied her thread in herneedle for her when she was learning to sew, and it was his unfailingpraise of her awkward attempts which encouraged her to I keep on untilher stitches were really praiseworthy. 

He applauded her piano playing from her first stumbling attempt at scalesto the last simple waltz she had just learned. He attended many readings, beginning with words of one syllable, on up to such books as "TheLeatherstocking Tales. " He came in one day, however, as they werefinishing a chapter in one of the Judge's favorite novels, and no soonerhad Georgina skipped out of the room on an errand than he began to takeher mother to task for allowing her to read anything of that sort. 

"You'll make the lass old before her time!" he scolded. "A little scraplike her ought to be playing with other children instead of reading booksso far over her head that she can only sort of tip-toe up to them. "

"But it's the stretching that makes her grow, Uncle Darcy, " Barbaraanswered in an indulgent tone. He went on heedless of her interruption. 

"And she tells me that she sometimes sits as much as an hour at a time, listening to you play on the piano, especially if it's 'sad music thatmakes you think of someone looking off to sea for a ship that never comesin, or of waves creeping up in a lonely place where the fog-bell tolls. 'Those were her very words, and she looked so mournful that it worried me. It isn't natural for a child of her age to sit with a far-away look inher eyes, as if she were seeing things that ain't there. "

Barbara laughed. 

"Nonsense, Uncle Darcy. As long as she keeps her rosy cheeks and is fullof life, a little dreaming can't hurt her. You should have seen her doingthe elfin dance this morning. She entered into the spirit of it like alittle whirlwind. And, besides, there are no children anywhere near thatI can allow her to play with. I have only a few acquaintances in thetown, and they are too far from us to make visiting easy between thechildren. But look at the time _I_ give to her. I play with her somuch that we're more like two chums than mother and child. "

"Yes, but it would be better for both of you if you had more friendsoutside. Then Georgina wouldn't feel the sadness of 'someone looking offto sea for a ship that never comes in. ' She feels your separation fromJustin and your watching for his letters and your making your whole lifejust a waiting time between his furloughs, more than you have any ideaof. "

"But, Uncle Darcy!" exclaimed Barbara, "it would be just the same nomatter how many friends I had. They couldn't make me forget his absence. "

"No, but they could get you interested in other things, and Georginawould feel the difference, and be happier because you would not seem tobe waiting and anxious. There's some rare, good people in this town, oldfriends of the family who tried to make you feel at home among them whenyou first came. "

"I know, " admitted Barbara, slowly, "but I was so young then, and sohomesick that strangers didn't interest me. Now Georgina is old enough tobe thoroughly companionable, and our music and sewing and householdduties fill our days. "

It was a subject they had discussed before, without either convincing theother, and the old man had always gone away at such times with a feelingof defeat. But this time as he took his leave, it was with thedetermination to take the matter in hand himself. He felt he owed it tothe Judge to do that much for his grandchild. The usual crowds of summerpeople would be coming soon. He had heard that Gray Inn was to bereopened this summer. That meant there would probably be children at thisend of the beach. If Opportunity came that near to Georgina's door heknew several ways of inducing it to knock. So he went off smiling tohimself. 

Chapter IV

New Friends and the Green Stairs

The town filled up with artists earlier than usual that summer. Stablelofts and old boathouses along the shore blossomed into studios. Sketching classes met in the rooms of the big summer art schools whichmade the Cape end famous, or set up their models down by the wharfs. Oneran into easels pitched in the most public places: on busy streetcorners, on the steps of the souvenir shops and even in front of the townhall. People in paint-besmeared smocks, loaded with canvases, sketchingstools and palettes, filled the board-walk and overflowed into the middleof the street. 

The _Dorothy Bradford_ steamed up to the wharf from Boston with herdaily load of excursionists, and the "accommodation" busses began to plyup and down the three miles of narrow street with its restless tide ofsummer visitors. 

Up along, through the thick of it one June morning, came the Towncrier, apicturesque figure in his short blue jacket and wide seaman's trousers, ared bandanna knotted around his throat and a wide-rimmed straw hat on theback of his head. 

"Notice!" he cried, after each vigorous ringing of his big brass bell. "Lost, between Mayflower Heights and the Gray Inn, a black leather bill-case with important papers. "

He made slow progress, for someone stopped him at almost every rod with aword of greeting, and he stopped to pat every dog which thrust a friendlynose into his hand in passing. Several times strangers stepped up to himto inquire into his affairs as if he were some ancient historicalpersonage come to life. Once he heard a man say:

"Quick with your kodak, Ethel. Catch the Towncrier as he comes along. They say there's only one other place in the whole United States that hasone. You can't afford to miss anything _this_ quaint. "

It was nearly noon when he came towards the end of the beach. He walkedstill more slowly here, for many cottages had been opened for summerresidents since the last time he passed along, and he knew some of theowners. He noticed that the loft above a boat-house which had once beenthe studio of a famous painter of marine scenes was again in use. Hewondered who had taken it. Almost across from it was the "Green Stairs"where Georgina always came to meet him if she were outdoors and heard hisbell. 

The "Green Stairs" was the name she had given to a long flight of woodensteps with a railing on each side, leading from the sidewalk up a steepembankment to the bungalow on top. It was a wide-spreading bungalow withas many windows looking out to sea as a lighthouse, and had had anespecial interest for Georgina, since she heard someone say that itsowner, Mr. Milford, was an old bachelor who lived by himself. She used towonder when she was younger if "all the bread and cheese he got he keptupon a shelf. " Once she asked Barbara why he didn't "go to London to gethim a wife, " and was told probably because he had so many guests thatthere wasn't time. Interesting people were always coming and going aboutthe house; men famous for things they had done or written or painted. 

Now as the Towncrier came nearer, he saw Georgina skipping along towardhim with her jumping rope. She was bare-headed, her pink dress flutteringin the salt breeze, her curls blowing back from her glowing little face. He would have hastened his steps to meet her, but his honest soul alwaysdemanded a certain amount of service from himself for the dollar paid himfor each trip of this kind. So he went on at his customary gait, stoppingat the usual intervals to ring his bell and call his news. 

At the Green Stairs Georgina paused, her attention attracted by aforeign-looking battleship just steaming into the harbor. She wasfamiliar with nearly every kind of sea-going craft that ever anchoredhere, but she could not classify this one. With her hands behind her, clasping her jumping rope ready for another throw, she stood looking outto sea. Presently a slight scratching sound behind her made her turnsuddenly. Then she drew back startled, for she was face to face with adog which was sitting on the step just on a level with her eyes. He was aragged-looking tramp of a dog, an Irish terrier, but he looked at her insuch a knowing, human way that she spoke to him as if he had been aperson. 

"For goodness' sake, how you made me jump! I didn't know anybody wassitting there behind me. " It was almost uncanny the way his eyes twinkledthrough his hair, as if he were laughing with her over some good jokethey had together. It gave her such a feeling of comradeship that shestood and smiled back at him. Suddenly he raised his right paw and thrustit towards her. She drew back another step. She was not used to dogs, andshe hesitated about touching anything with such claws in it as the paw hegravely presented. 

But as he continued to hold it out she felt it would be impolite not torespond in some way, so reaching out very cautiously she gave it a limpshake. Then as he still kept looking at her with questioning eyes sheasked quite as if she expected him to speak, "What's your name, Dog?"

A voice from the top of the steps answered, "It's Captain Kidd. " Evenmore startled than when the dog had claimed her attention, she glanced upto see a small boy on the highest step. He was sucking an orange, but hetook his mouth away from it long enough to add, "His name's on his collarthat he got yesterday, and so's mine. You can look at 'em if you wantto. "

Georgina leaned forward to peer at the engraving on the front of thecollar, but the hair on the shaggy throat hid it, and she was timid abouttouching a spot just below such a wide open mouth with a red tonguelolling out of it. She put her hands behind her instead. 

"Is--is he--a pirate dog?" she ventured. 

The boy considered a minute, not wanting to say yes if pirates were notrespectable in her eyes, and not wanting to lose the chance of glorifyinghim if she held them in as high esteem as he did. After a long meditativesuck at his orange he announced, "Well, he's just as good as one. Heburies all his treasures. That's why we call him Captain Kidd. "

Georgina shot a long, appraising glance at the boy from under her darklashes. His eyes were dark, too. There was something about him thatattracted her, even if his face was smeary with orange juice and streakedwith dirty finger marks. She wanted to ask more about Captain Kidd, buther acquaintance with boys was as slight as with dogs. Overcome by asudden shyness she threw her rope over her head and went skipping on downthe boardwalk to meet the Towncrier. 

The boy stood up and looked after her. He wished she hadn't been in sucha hurry. It had been the longest morning he ever lived through. Havingarrived only the day before with his father to visit at the bungalow hehadn't yet discovered what there was for a boy to do in this strangeplace. Everybody had gone off and left him with the servants, and toldhim to play around till they got back. It wouldn't be long, they said, but he had waited and waited until he felt he had been looking out to seafrom the top of those green steps all the days of his life. Of course, hewouldn't want to play with just a girl, but----

He watched the pink dress go fluttering on, and then he saw Georgina takethe bell away from the old man as if it were her right to do so. Sheturned and walked along beside him, tinkling it faintly as she talked. Hewished he had a chance at it. He'd show her how loud he could make itsound. 

"Notice, " called the old man, seeing faces appear at some of the windowsthey were passing. "Lost, a black leather bill-case----"

The boy, listening curiously, slid down the steps until he reached theone on which the dog was sitting, and put his arm around its neck. Thebanister posts hid him from the approaching couple. He could hearGeorgina's eager voice piping up flute-like:

"It's a pirate dog, Uncle Darcy. He's named Captain Kidd because heburies his treasures. "

In answer the old man's quavering voice rose in a song which he hadroared lustily many a time in his younger days, aboard many a gallantvessel:

 "Oh, my name is Captain Kidd, And many wick-ud things I did, And heaps of gold I hid, As I sailed. "

The way his voice slid down on the word wick-_ud_ made a queerthrilly feeling run down the boy's back, and all of a sudden the day grewwonderfully interesting, and this old seaport town one of the nicestplaces he had ever been in. The singer stopped at the steps and Georgina, disconcerted at finding the boy at such close range when she expected tosee him far above her, got no further in her introduction to Captain Kiddthan "Here he------"

But the old man needed no introduction. He had only to speak to the dogto set every inch of him quivering in affectionate response. "Here's afriend worth having, " the raggedy tail seemed to signal in a wig-wag codeof its own. 

Then the wrinkled hand went from the dog's head to the boy's shoulderwith the same kind of an affectionate pat. "What's _your_ name, son?"

"Richard Morland. "

"What?" was the surprised question. "Are you a son of the artist Morland, who is visiting up here at the Milford bungalow?"

"Yes, that's us. "

"Well, bless my stars, it's _his_ bill-case I have been crying allmorning. If I'd known there was a fine lad like you sitting about doingnothing, I'd had you with me, ringing the bell. "

The little fellow's face glowed. He was as quick to recognize a friendworth having as Captain Kidd had been. 

"Say, " he began, "if it was Daddy's bill-case you were shouting about, you needn't do it any longer. It's found. Captain Kidd came in with it inhis mouth just after Daddy went away. He was starting to dig a hole inthe sand down by the garage to bury it in, like he does everything. He'shardly done being a puppy yet, you know. I took it away from him andreckanized it, and I've been waiting here all morning for Dad to comehome. "

He began tugging at the pocket into which he had stowed the bill-case forsafe-keeping, and Captain Kidd, feeling that it was his by right ofdiscovery, stood up, wagging himself all over, and poking his nose inbetween them, with an air of excited interest. The Towncrier shook hisfinger at him. 

"You rascal! I suppose you'll be claiming the reward next thing, you oldpirate! How old is he, Richard?"

"About a year. He was given to me when he was just a little puppy. "

"And how old are you, son?"

"Ten my last birthday, but I'm so big for my age I wear 'leven-year-oldsuits. "

Now the Towncrier hadn't intended to stop, but the dog began burrowingits head ecstatically against him, and there was something in the boy'slonesome, dirty little face which appealed to him, and the next thing heknew he was sitting on the bottom step of the Green Stairs with Georginabeside him, telling the most thrilling pirate story he knew. And he toldit more thrillingly than he had ever told it before. The reason for thiswas he had never had such a spellbound listener before. Not even Justinhad hung on each word with the rapt interest this boy showed. His darkeyes seemed to grow bigger and more luminous with each sentence, moreintense in their piercing gaze. His sensitive mouth changed expressionwith every phase of the adventure--danger, suspense, triumph. He scarcelybreathed, he was listening so hard. 

Suddenly the whistle at the cold-storage plant began to blow for noon, and the old man rose stiffly, saying:

"I'm a long way from home, I should have started back sooner. "

"Oh, but you haven't finished the story!" cried the boy, in distress atthis sudden ending. "It _couldn't_ stop there. "

Georgina caught him by the sleeve of the old blue jacket to pull him backto the seat beside her. 

"Please, Uncle Darcy!"

It was the first time in all her coaxing that that magic word failed tobend him to her wishes. 

"No, " he answered firmly, "I can't finish it now, but I'll tell you whatI'll do. This afternoon I'll row up to this end of the beach in my doryand take you two children out to the weirs to see the net hauled in. There's apt to be a big catch of squid worth going to see, and I'llfinish the story on the way. Will that suit you?"

Richard stood up, as eager and excited as Captain Kidd always was whenanybody said "Rats!" But the next instant the light died out of his eyesand he plumped himself gloomily down on the step, as if life were nolonger worth living. 

"Oh, bother!" he exclaimed. "I forgot. I can't go anywhere. Dad'spainting my portrait, and I have to stick around so's he can work on itany old time he feels like it. That's why he brought me on this visitwith him, so's he can finish it up here. "

"Maybe you can beg off, just for to-day, " suggested Mr. Darcy. 

"No, it's very important, " he explained gravely. "It's the best oneDaddy's done yet, and the last thing before we left home Aunt Letty said, 'Whatever you do, boys, don't let anything interfere with getting thatpicture done in time to hang in the exhibition, ' and we both promised. "

There was gloomy silence for a moment, broken by the old man's cheerfulvoice. 

"Well, don't you worry till you see what we can do. I want to see yourfather anyhow about this bill-case business, so I'll come around thisafternoon, and if he doesn't let you off to-day maybe he will to-morrow. Just trust your Uncle Darcy for getting where he starts out to go. Skipalong home, Georgina, and tell your mother I want to borrow you for theafternoon. "

An excited little pink whirlwind with a jumping rope going over and overits head, went flying up the street toward the end of the beach. Asmiling old man with age looking out of his faded blue eyes but with thespirit of boyhood undimmed in his heart, walked slowly down towards thetown. And on the bottom step of the Green Stairs, his arm around CaptainKidd, the boy sat watching them, looking from one to the other as long asthey were in sight. The heart of him was pounding deliciously to themusic of such phrases as, _"Fathoms deep, lonely beach, spade andpickaxe, skull and crossbones, bags of golden doubloons and chests ofducats and pearls!"_

Chapter V

In the Footsteps of Pirates

The weirs, to which they took their way that afternoon in the Towncrier'sdory, _The Betsey_, was "the biggest fish-trap in any watersthereabouts, " the old man told them. And it happened that the net held anunusually large catch that day. Barrels and barrels of flapping squid andmackerel were emptied into the big motor boat anchored alongside of it. 

At a word from Uncle Darcy, an obliging fisherman in oilskins held outhis hand to help the children scramble over the side of _The Betsey_to a seat on top of the cabin where they could have a better view. Allthe crew were Portuguese. The man who helped them climb over was JoeFayal, father of Manuel and Joseph and Rosa. He stood like a young brownNeptune, his white teeth flashing when he laughed, a pitchfork in hishands with which to spear the goosefish as they turned up in the net, andthrow them back into the sea. If nothing else had happened that sightalone was enough to mark it as a memorable afternoon. 

Nothing else did happen, really, except that on the way out, Uncle Darcyfinished the story begun on the Green Stairs and on the way back toldthem another. But what Richard remembered ever after as seeming to havehappened, was that _The Betsey_ suddenly turned into a Brigantine. Perched up on one of the masts, an unseen spectator, he watched a mutinyflare up among the sailors, and saw that "strutting, swaggering villain, John Quelch, throw the captain overboard and take command himself. " Hesaw them hoist a flag they called "Old Roger, " "having in the middle ofit an Anatomy (skeleton) with an hour-glass in one hand and a dart in theheart with three drops of blood proceeding from it. "

He heard the roar that went up from all those bearded throats--(wonderfulhow Uncle Darcy's thin, quavering voice could sound that whole chorus)----

 "Of all the lives, I ever say, A Pirate's be for I. Hap what hap may, he's allus gay An' drinks an' bungs his eye. For his work he's never loth, An' a-pleasurin' he'll go Tho' certain sure to be popt of. Yo ho, with the rum below. "_

And then they made after the Portuguese vessels, nine of them, and tookthem all (What a bloody fight it was!), and sailed away with a dazzlingstore of treasure, "enough to make an honest sailorman rub his eyes andstagger in his tracks. "

Richard had not been brought up on stories as Georgina had. He had hadfew of this kind, and none so breathlessly realistic. It carried him outof himself so completely that as they rowed slowly back to town he didnot see a single house in it, although every western window-pane flashedback the out-going sun like a golden mirror. His serious, brown eyes werefollowing the adventures of these bold sea-robbers, "marooned three timesand wounded nine and blowed up in the air. "

When all of a sudden the brigantine changed back into _The Betsey_, and he had to climb out at the boat-landing, he had somewhat of the dazedfeeling of that honest sailor-man. He had heard enough to make him "rubhis eyes and stagger in his tracks. "

Uncle Darcy, having put them ashore, rowed off with the partinginjunction to skip along home. Georgina did skip, so light of foot andquick of movement that she was in the lead all the way to the GreenStairs. There she paused and waited for Richard to join her. As he cameup he spoke for the first time since leaving the weirs. 

"Wish I knew the boys in this town. Wish I knew which one would be thebest to get to go digging with me. "

Georgina did not need to ask, "digging for what?" She, too, had beenthinking of buried treasure. 

"_I'll_ go with you, " she volunteered sweetly. 

He turned on her an inquiring look, as if he were taking her measure, then glanced away indifferently. 

"You couldn't. You're a girl. "

It was a matter-of-fact statement with no suspicion of a taunt in it, butit stung Georgina's pride. Her eyes blazed defiantly and she tossed backher curls with a proud little uplift of the chin. It must be acknowledgedthat her nose, too, took on the trifle of a tilt. Her challenge wasunspoken but so evident that he answered it. 

"Well, you know you couldn't creep out into the night and go along alonely shore into dark caves and everything. "

"_Pity_ I couldn't!" she answered with withering scorn. "I could goanywhere _you_ could, anybody descended from heroes like _I_am. I don't want to be braggity, but I'd have you to know they put upthat big monument over there for one of them, and another was a Minute-man. With all that, for you to think I'd be afraid! _Tut!_"

Not Tippy herself had ever spoken that word with finer scorn. With aflirt of her short skirts Georgina turned and started disdainfully up thestreet. 

"Wait, " called Richard. He liked the sudden flare-up of her manner. Therewas something convincing about it. Besides, he didn't want her to go offin that independent way as if she meant never to come back. It was shewho had brought the Towncrier, that matchless Teller of Tales, across hispath. 

[Illustration: They took their Way in the Betsey]

"I didn't say you wasn't brave, " he called after her. 

She hesitated, then stopped, turning half-way around. 

"I just said you was a girl. Most of them _are_ 'fraid cats, but ifyou ain't I don't know as I'd mind taking you along. That is, " he addedcautiously, "if I could be dead sure that you're game. "

At that Georgina turned all the way around and came back a few steps. 

"You can try me, " she answered, anxious to prove herself worthy to betaken on such a quest, and as eager as he to begin it. 

"You think of the thing you're most afraid of yourself, and tell me to doit, and then just watch me. "

Richard declined to admit any fear of anything. Georgina named severalterrors at which he stoutly shook his head, but presently with uncannyinsight she touched upon his weakest point. 

"Would you be afraid of coffins and spooks or to go to a graveyard in thedead of the night the way Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn did?"

Not having read Tom Sawyer, Richard evaded the question by asking, "Howdid they do?"

"Oh, don't you know? They had the dead cat and they saw old Injun Joecome with the lantern and kill the man that was with Muff Potter. "

By the time Georgina had given the bare outline of the story in herdramatic way, Richard was quite sure that no power under heaven couldentice him into a graveyard at midnight, though nothing could haveinduced him to admit this to Georgina. As far back as he could rememberhe had had an unreasoning dread of coffins. Even now, big as he was, bigenough to wear "'leven-year-old suits, " nothing could tempt him into afurniture shop for fear of seeing a coffin. 

One of his earliest recollections was of his nurse taking him into alittle shop, at some village where they were spending the summer, and hiscold terror when he found himself directly beside a long brown one, smelling of varnish, and with silver handles. His nurse's tales had muchto do with creating this repulsion, also her threat of shutting him up ina coffin if he wasn't a good boy. When she found that she could exactobedience by keeping that dread hanging over him, she used the threatdaily. 

"I'll tell you what I'll do, " he said finally. "I'll let you go diggingwith me if you're game enough to go to the graveyard and walk clearacross it all by yourself and"--dropping his voice to a hollow whisper--"_touch--ten--tombstones!_"

Now, if Richard hadn't dropped his voice in that scary way when he said, "and touch ten tombstones, " it would have been no test at all ofGeorgina's courage. Strange, how just his way of saying those four wordssuddenly made the act such a fearsome one. 

"Do it right now, " he suggested. 

"But it isn't night yet, " she answered, "let alone being mid-night. "

"No, but it's clouding up, and the sun's down. By the time we'd get to agraveyard it would be dark enough for me to tell if you're game. "

Up to this time Georgina had never gone anywhere without permission. Butthis was something one couldn't explain very well at home. It seemedbetter to do it first and explain afterward. 

Fifteen minutes later, two children and a dog arrived hot and panting atthe entrance to the old burying ground. On a high sand dune, covered withthin patches of beach and poverty grass, and a sparse growth of scragglypines, it was a desolate spot at any time, and now doubly so in thegathering twilight. The lichen-covered slabs that marked the graves ofthe early settlers leaned this way and that along the hill. 

The gate was locked, but Georgina found a place where the palings wereloose, and squeezed through, leaving Richard and the dog outside. Theywatched her through the fence as she toiled up the steep hill. The sandwas so deep that she plunged in over her shoe-tops at every step. Once ontop it was easier going. The matted beach grass made a firm turf. Shestopped and read the names on some of the slabs before she plucked upcourage to touch one. She would not have hesitated an instant if onlyRichard had not dared her in that scary way. 

Some little, wild creature started up out of the grass ahead of her andscurried away. Her heart beat so fast she could hear the blood poundingagainst her ear-drums. She looked back. Richard was watching, and she wasto wave her hand each time she touched a stone so that he could keepcount with her. She stooped and peered at one, trying to read theinscription. The clouds had hurried the coming of twilight. It was hardto decipher the words. 

"None knew him but to love him, " she read slowly. Instantly her dread ofthe place vanished. She laid her hand on the stone and then waved toRichard. Then she ran on and read and touched another. "Lost at sea, "that one said, and under the next slabs slept "Deliverance" and"Experience, " "Mercy, " and "Thankful. " What queer names people had inthose early days! And what strange pictures they etched in the stone ofthose old gray slabs--urns and angels and weeping willows!

She signaled the tenth and last. Richard wondered why she did not turnand come back. At the highest point of the hill she stood as iftransfixed, a slim little silhouette against the darkening sky, her handsclasped in amazement. Suddenly she turned and came tearing down the hill, floundering through sand, falling and picking herself up, only toflounder and fall again, finally rolling down the last few yards of theembankment. 

"What scared you?" asked Richard, his eyes big with excitement as hewatched what seemed to be her terrified exit. "What did you see?" But shewould not speak until she had squeezed between the palings and stoodbeside him. Then she told him in an impressive whisper, glancingfurtively over her shoulder:

"There's a whole row of tombstones up there with _skulls and cross-bones on them! They must be pirate graves!"_

Her mysterious air was so contagious that he answered in a whisper, andin a moment each was convinced by the other's mere manner that theirsuspicion was true. Presently Georgina spoke in her natural voice. 

"You go up and look at them. "

"Naw, I'll take your word for it, " he answered in a patronizing tone. "Besides, there isn't time now. It's getting too dark. They'll beexpecting me home to supper. "

Georgina glanced about her. The clouds settling heavily made it seemlater than it really was. She had a guilty feeling that Barby wasworrying about her long absence, maybe imagining that something hadhappened to _The Betsey_. She startad homeward, half running, buther pace slackened as Richard, hurrying along beside her, began to planwhat they would do with their treasure when they found it. 

"There's sure to be piles of buried gold around here, " he said. "Thosepirate graves prove that a lot of 'em lived here once. Let's buy a movingpicture show first. "

Georgina's face grew radiant at this tacit admission of herself intopartnership. 

"Oh, yes, " she assented joyfully. "And then we can have moving picturesmade of _us_ doing all sorts of things. Won't it be fun to sit backand watch ourselves and see how we look doing 'em?"

"Say! that's great, " he exclaimed. "All the kids in town will want to bein the pictures, too, but we'll have the say-so, and only those who doexactly to suit us can have a chance of getting in. "

"But the more we let in the more money we'd make in the show, " wasGeorgina's shrewd answer. "Everybody will want to see what their childlooks like in the movies, so, of course, that'll make people come to ourshow instead of the other ones. "

"Say, " was the admiring reply. "You're a partner worth having. You've gota _head_. "

Such praise was the sweetest incense to Georgina. She burned to callforth more. 

"Oh, I can think of lots of things when once I get started, " she assuredhim with a grand air. 

As they ran along Richard glanced several times at the head from whichhad come such valuable suggestions. There was a gleam of gold in thebrown curls which bobbed over her shoulders. He liked it. He hadn'tnoticed before that her hair was pretty. 

There was a gleam of gold, also, in the thoughts of each. They couldfairly see the nuggets they were soon to unearth, and their imaginations, each fired by the other, shoveled out the coin which the picture show wasto yield them, in the same way that the fisherman had shoveled theshining mackerel into the boat. They had not attempted to count them, simply measured them by the barrelful. 

"Don't tell anybody, " Richard counseled her as they parted at the GreenStairs. "Cross your heart and body you won't tell a soul. We want tosurprise 'em. "

Georgina gave the required sign and promise, as gravely as if it were anoath. 

From the front porch Richard's father and cousin, James Milford, watchedhim climb slowly up the Green Stairs. 

"Dicky looks as if the affairs of the nation were on his shoulders, "observed Cousin James. "Pity he doesn't realize these are his care-freedays. "

"They're not, " answered the elder Richard. "They're the most deadlyserious ones he'll ever have. I don't know what he's got on his mind now, but whatever it is I'll wager it is more important business than thatdeal you're trying to pull off with the Cold Storage people. "

Chapter VI

Spend-the-Day Guests

There was a storm that night and next day a heavy fog dropped down like athick white veil over town and sea. It was so cold that Jeremy lighted afire, not only in the living room but in the guest chamber across thehall. 

A week earlier Tippy had announced, "It'll never do to let CousinMehitable Huntingdon go back to Hyannis without having broken bread withus. She'd talk about it to the end of her days, if we were the onlyrelations in town who failed to ask her in to a meal, during herfortnight's visit. And, of course, if we ask her, all the family she'sstaying with ought to be invited, and we've never had the new ministerand his wife here to eat. Might as well do it all up at once while we'reabout it. "

Spend-the-day guests were rare in Georgina's experience. The grandpreparations for their entertainment which went on that morning put thenew partnership and the treasure-quest far into the back-ground. Sheforgot it entirely while the dining-room table, stretched to its limit, was being set with the best china and silver as if for a Thanksgivingfeast. Mrs. Fayal, the mother of Manuel and Joseph and Rosa, came over tohelp in the kitchen, and Tippy whisked around so fast that Georgina, tagging after, was continually meeting her coming back. 

Georgina was following to ask questions about the expected guests. Sheliked the gruesome sound of that term "blood relations" as Tippy used it, and wanted to know all about this recently discovered "in-law, " the widowof her grandfather's cousin, Thomas Huntingdon. Barby could not tell herand Mrs. Triplett, too busy to be bothered, set her down to turn theleaves of the family album. But the photograph of Cousin Mehitable hadbeen taken when she was a boarding-school miss in a disfiguring hat andbasque, and bore little resemblance to the imposing personage who headedthe procession of visitors, arriving promptly at eleven o'clock. 

When Cousin Mehitable came into the room in her widow's bonnet with thelong black veil hanging down behind, she seemed to fill the place as themassive black walnut wardrobe upstairs filled the alcove. She lifted hereyeglasses from the hook on her dress to her hooked nose to look atGeorgina before she kissed her. Under that gaze the child felt as awed asif the big wardrobe had bent over and put a wooden kiss on her foreheadand said in a deep, whispery sort of voice, "So this is the Judge'sgrand-daughter. How do you do, my dear?"

All the guests were middle aged and most of them portly. There were somany that they filled all the chairs and the long claw-foot sofa besides. Georgina sat on a foot-stool, her hands folded in her lap until theothers took out their knitting and embroidery. Then she ran to get thenapkin she was hemming. The husbands who had been invited did not arriveuntil time to sit down to dinner and they left immediately after thefeast. 

Georgina wished that everybody would keep still and let one guest at atime do the talking. After the first few minutes of general conversationthe circle broke into little groups, and it wasn't possible to follow thethread of the story in more than one. Each group kept bringing to lightsome bit of family history that she wanted to hear or some old familyjoke which they laughed over as if it were the funniest thing that everhappened. It was tantalizing not to be able to hear them all. It made herthink of times when she rummaged through the chests in the attic, pullingout fascinating old garments and holding them up for Tippy to supplytheir history. But this was as bad as opening all the chests at once. While she was busy with one she was missing all that was being hauled outto the light of day from the others. 

Several times she moved her foot-stool from one group to another, drawnby some sentence such as, "Well, she certainly was the prettiest bride Iever laid my two eyes on, but not many of us would want to stand in hershoes now. " Or from across the room, "They do say it was what happenedthe night of the wreck that unbalanced his mind, but I've always thoughtit was having things go at sixes and sevens at home as they did. "

Georgina would have settled herself permanently near Cousin Mehitable, she being the most dramatic and voluble of them all, but she had atantalizing way of lowering her voice at the most interesting part, andwhispering the last sentence behind her hand. Georgina was nearlyconsumed with curiosity each time that happened, and fairly ached to knowthese whispered revelations. 

It was an entrancing day--the dinner so good, the ancient jokes passingaround the table all so new and witty to Georgina, hearing them now forthe first time. She wished that a storm would come up to keep everybodyat the house overnight and thus prolong the festal feeling. She likedthis "Company" atmosphere in which everyone seemed to grow expansive ofsoul and gracious of speech. She loved every relative she had to theremotest "in-law. "

Her heart swelled with a great thankfulness to think that she was not anorphan. Had she been one there would have been no one to remark that hereyes were exactly like Justin's and she carried herself like aHuntingdon, but that she must have inherited her smile from the otherside of the house. Barbara had that same smile and winning way with her. It was pleasant to be discussed when only pleasant things were said, andto have her neat stitches exclaimed over and praised as they were passedaround. 

She thought about it again after dinner, and felt so sorry for childrenwho were orphans, that she decided to spend a large part of her share ofthe buried treasure in making them happy. She was sure that Richard wouldgive part of his share, too, when he found it, and when the picture showwhich they were going to buy was in good running order, they would makeit a rule that orphans should always be let in free. 

She came back from this pleasant day-dream to hear Cousin Mehitablesaying, "Speaking of thieves, does anyone know what ever became of poorDan Darcy?"

Nobody knew, and they all shook their heads and said that it was a pitythat he had turned out so badly. It was hard to believe it of him when hehad always been such a kind, pleasant-spoken boy, just like his father;and if ever there was an honest soul in the whole round world it was theold Town-crier. 

At that Georgina gave such a start that she ran, her needle into herthumb, and a tiny drop of blood spurted out. She did not know that UncleDarcy had a son. She had never heard his name mentioned before. She hadbeen at his house many a time, and there never was anyone there besideshimself except his wife, "Aunt Elspeth" (who was so old and feeble thatshe stayed in bed most of the time), and the three cats, "John Darcy andMary Darcy and old Yellownose. " That's the way the old man always spokeof them. He called them his family. 

Georgina was glad that the minister's wife was a newcomer in the town andasked to have it explained. Everybody contributed a scrap of the story, for all side conversations stopped at the mention of Dan Darcy's name, and the interest of the whole room centered on him. 

It was years ago, when he was not more than eighteen that it happened. Hewas a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow who couldn't be kept down to steadywork such as a job in the bank or a store. He was always off a-fishing oron the water, but everybody liked him and said he'd settle down when hewas a bit older. He had a friend much like himself, only a little older. Emmett Potter was his name. There was a regular David and Jonathanfriendship between those two. They were hand-in-glove in everything tillDan went wrong. Both even liked the same girl, Belle Triplett. 

Here Georgina's needle gave her another jab. She laid down her hemming tolisten. This was bringing the story close home, for Belle Triplett wasTippy's niece, or rather her husband's niece. While that did not makeBelle one of the Huntingdon family, Georgina had always looked upon heras such. She visited at the house oftener than anyone else. 

Nobody in the room came right out and said what it was that Dan had done, but by putting the scraps together Georgina discovered presently that thetrouble was about some stolen money. Lots of people wouldn't believe thathe was guilty at first, but so many things pointed his way that finallythey had to. The case was about to be brought to trial when one night Dansuddenly disappeared as if the sea had swallowed him, and nothing hadever been heard from him since. Judge Huntingdon said it was a pity, foreven if he was guilty he thought he could have got him off, there beingnothing but circumstantial evidence. 

Well, it nearly killed his father and mother and Emmett Potter, too. 

It came out then that Emmett was engaged to Belle. For nearly a year hegrieved about Dan's disappearance. Seems he took it to heart so that hecouldn't bear to do any of the things they'd always done together or goto the old places. Belle had her wedding dress made and thought if shecould once get him down to Truro to live, he'd brace up and get over it. 

They had settled on the day, when one wild, stormy night word came that avessel was pounding itself to pieces off Peaked Hill Bar, and the life-saving crew was starting to the rescue. Emmett lit out to see it, andwhen something happened to the breeches buoy so they couldn't use it, hewas the first to answer when the call came for volunteers to man a boatto put out to them. He would have had a medal if he'd lived to wear it, for he saved five lives that night. But he lost his own the last time heclimbed up on the vessel. Nobody knew whether it was a rope gave way orwhether his fingers were so nearly frozen he couldn't hold on, but hedropped into that raging sea, and his body was washed up on the beachnext day. 

Georgina listened, horrified. 

"And Belle with her wedding dress all ready, " said Cousin Mehitable witha husky sigh. 

"What became of her?" asked the minister's wife. 

"Oh, she's still living here in town, but it blighted her whole life in away, although she was just in her teens when it happened. It helped herto bear up, knowing he'd died such a hero. Some of the town people put upa tombstone to his memory, with a beautiful inscription on it that thesummer people go to see, almost as much as the landing place of thePilgrims. She'll be true to his memory always, and it's somethingbeautiful to see her devotion to Emmett's father. She calls him 'Father'Potter, and is always doing things for him. He's that old net-mender wholives alone out on the edge of town near the cranberry bogs. "

Cousin Mehitable took up the tale:

"I'll never forget if I live to be a hundred, what I saw on my way homethe night after Emmett was drowned. I was living here then, you know. Iwas passing through Fishburn Court, and I thought I'd go in and speak aword to Mr. Darcy, knowing how fond he'd always been of Emmett on accountof Dan and him being such friends. I went across that sandy place theycall the Court, to the row of cottages at the end. But I didn't seeanything until I had opened the Darcy's gate and stepped into the yard. The house sits sideways to the Court, you know. 

"The yellow blind was pulled down over the front window, but the lampthrew a shadow on it, plain as a photograph. It was the shadow of the oldman, sitting there with his arms flung out across the table, and his headbowed down on them. I was just hesitating, whether to knock or to slipaway, when I heard him groan, and sort of cry out, 'Oh, my Danny! MyDanny! If only you could have gone _that_ way. '"

Barbara, hearing a muffled sob behind her, turned to see the tearsrunning down Georgina's face. The next instant she was up, and with herarms around the child, was gently pushing her ahead of her out of theroom, into the hall. With the door shut behind her she said soothingly:

"Barby didn't know they were going to tell such unhappy stories, darling. I shouldn't have let you stay. "

"But I _want_ to know, " sobbed Georgina. "When people you love havetrouble you ought to know, so's to be kinder to them. Oh, Barby, I'm sosorry I ever was saucy to him. And I wish I hadn't teased his cats. Itied paper bags on all of John Darcy and Mary Darcy's paws, and he said Imade old Y-yellownose n-nervous, tickling his ears----"

Barbara stopped the sobbing confessions with a kiss and took Georgina'sjacket from the hatrack. 

"Here, " she said. "It's bad for you to sit in the house all day andlisten to grown people talk. Slip into this and run outdoors with yourskipping rope a while. Uncle Darcy has had very great trouble, but he'slearned to bear it like a hero, and nothing would make him grieve morethan to know that any shadow of his sorrow was making you unhappy. Theway for you to help him most is to be as bright and jolly as you can, andto _tease_ his old cats once in a while. "

Georgina looked up through her tears, her dimples all showing, and threwher arms around her adoringly. 

"What a funny mother you are, Barby. Not a bit like the ones in books. "

A cold wind was blowing the fog away. She raced up and down the beach fora long time, and when she came back it was with red cheeks and ruffledcurls. Having left the company in tears she did not like to venture backfor fear of the remarks which might be made. So she crossed the hall andstood in the door of the guest chamber, considering what to do next. Itsusual chill repellance had been changed into something inviting by thewood fire on the hearth, and on the bed where the guests had depositedtheir wraps lay an array of millinery which drew her irresistibly. 

It was a huge four-poster bed which one could mount only by the aid of aset of bedside steps, and so high that the valance, draped around it likea skirt, would have reached from her neck to her heels had it been drapedon her. It was a chintz valance with birds of paradise patterned on itspink back-ground, and there was pink silk quilled into the quaint testeroverhead, reminding her of old Jeremy's favorite quill dahlias. 

Usually when she went into this room which was seldom opened, she mountedthe steps to gaze up at that fascinating pink loveliness. Also she walkedaround the valance, counting its birds of paradise. She did not do soto-day. She knew from many previous countings that there were exactlyeighty-seven and a half of those birds. The joining seam cut off all butthe magnificent tail of what would have been the eighty-eighth. 

Mounting the steps she leaned over, careful not to touch the crochetedcounterpane, which Tippy always treated as if it were something sacred, and looked at the hats spread out upon it. Then she laid daring fingerson Cousin Mehitable's bonnet. It was a temptation to know what she wouldlook like if she should grow up to be a widow and have to wear animposing head-gear like that with a white ruche in front and a long blackveil floating down behind. The next instant she was tying the stringsunder her chin. 

It made her look like such an odd little dwarf of a woman that she stuckout her tongue at her reflection in the mirror. The grimace was socomical, framed by the stately bonnet, that Georgina was delighted. Shetwisted her face another way and was still more amused at results. Whollyforgetful of the fact that it was a mourning bonnet, she went on makingfaces at herself until the sound of voices suddenly growing louder, toldher that the door across the hall had opened. Someone was coming across. 

There was no time to take off the bonnet. With a frightened gasp shedived under the bed, with it still on, her heels disappearing just assomeone came into the room. The bed was so high she could easily situpright under it, but she was so afraid that a cough or a sneeze mightbetray her, that she drew up her knees and sat with her face pressedagainst them hard. The long veil shrouded her shoulders. She felt thatshe would surely die if anyone should notice that the bonnet was gone, orhappen to lift the valance and find her sitting there with it on herhead. Then she forgot her fear in listening to what Cousin Mehitable wassaying. 

Chapter VII

"The Tishbite"

Cousin Mehitable was speaking to Mrs. Triplett, who seemed to besearching through bureau drawers for something. Georgina could tell whatshe was doing from the sounds which reached her. These drawers alwaysstuck, and had to be jerked violently until the mirror rattled. 

"Oh, don't bother about it, Maria. I just made an excuse of wanting tosee it, because I knew you always kept it in here, and I wanted to getyou off by yourself for a minute's talk with you alone. Since I've beenin town I've heard so much about Justin and the way he is doing that Iwanted to ask somebody who knew and who could tell me the straight of it. What's this about his leaving the service and going junketing off to theinterior of China on some mission of his own? Jane tells me he got ayear's leave of absence from the Navy just to study up some outlandishdisease that attacks the sailors in foreign ports. She says why should hetake a whole year out of the best part of his life to poke around thehuts of dirty heathen to find out the kind of microbe that's eating 'em?He'd ought to think of Barbara and what's eating her heart out. I'vetaken a great fancy to that girl, and I'd like to give Justin a piece ofmy mind. It probably wouldn't do a bit of good though. He always waspeculiar. "

Georgina could hear only a few words of the answer because Tippy had herhead in the closet now, reaching for the box on the top shelf. Shestopped her search as soon as Cousin Mehitable said that, and the two ofthem went over to the fire and talked in low tones for a few minutes, leaning against the mantel. Georgina heard a word now and then. Severaltimes it was her own name. Finally, in a louder tone Cousin Mehitablesaid:

"Well, I wanted to know, and I was sure you could tell me if anyonecould. "

They went back across the hall to the other guests. The instant they weregone Georgina crawled out from under the bed with the big bonnet cockedover one eye. Then she scudded down the hall and up the back stairs. Sheknew the company would be going soon, and she would be expected to bidthem good-bye if she were there. She didn't want Cousin Mehitable to kissher again. She didn't like her any more since she had called her father"peculiar. "

She wandered aimlessly about for a few minutes, then pushed the door openinto Mrs. Triplett's room. It was warm and cozy in there for a small firestill burned in the little drum stove. She opened the front damper tomake it burn faster, and the light shone out in four long rays which madea flickering in the room. She sat down on the floor in front of it andbegan to wonder. 

"What did Cousin Mehitable mean by something eating Barby's heart out?"Did people die of it? She had read of the Spartan youth who let the foxgnaw his vitals under his cloak and never showed, even by the twitchingof a muscle, that he was in pain. Of course, she knew that no live thingwas tearing at her mother's heart, but what if something that shecouldn't understand was hurting her darling Barby night and day and shewas bravely hiding it from the world like the Spartan youth?

Did _all_ grown people have troubles? It had seemed such a happyworld until to-day, and now all at once she had heard about Dan Darcy andBelle Triplett. Nearly everyone whom the guests talked about had bornesome unhappiness, and even her own father was "peculiar. " She wished shehadn't found out all these things. A great weight seemed to settle downupon her. 

Thinking of Barbara in the light of what she had just learned sherecalled that she often looked sorry and disappointed, especially afterthe postman had come and gone without leaving a letter. Only this morningTippy had said--could it be she thought something was wrong and wastrying to comfort her?

"Justin always was a poor hand for writing letters. Many a time I'veheard the Judge scolding and stewing around because he hadn't heard fromhim when he was away at school. Letter writing came so easy to the Judgehe couldn't understand why Justin shirked it so. "

Then Georgina thought of Belle in the light of what she had just learned. Belle had carried her around in her arms when she was first brought tolive in this old gray house by the sea. She had made a companion of herwhenever she came to visit her Aunt Maria, and Georgina had admired herbecause she was so pretty and blonde and gentle, and enjoyed her becauseshe was always so willing to do whatever Georgina wished. And now tothink that instead of being the like-everybody-else kind of a young ladyshe seemed, she was like a heroine in a book who had lived throughtrouble which would "blight her whole life. "

Sitting there on the floor with her knees drawn up and her chin restingon them, Georgina looked into the fire through the slits of the damperand thought and thought. Then she looked out through the little squarewindow-panes across the wind-swept dunes. It did not seem like summerwith the sky all overcast with clouds. It was more like the end of a dayin the early autumn. Life seemed overcast, too. 

Presently through a rift in the sky an early star stole out, and she madea wish on it. That was one of the things Belle had taught her. Shestarted to wish that Barby might be happy. But before the whispered versehad entirely passed her lips she stopped to amend it, adding UncleDarcy's name and Belle's. Then she stopped again, overcome by theknowledge of all the woe in the world, and gathering all the universeinto her generous little heart she exclaimed earnestly:

"I wish _everybody in the world could be happy_. "

Having made the wish, fervently, almost fiercely, in her intense desireto set things right, she scrambled to her feet. There was another thingthat Belle had told her which she must do. 

"If you open the Bible and it chances to be at a chapter beginning withthe words, 'It came to pass, ' the wish will come true without fail. "

Taking Tippy's Bible from the stand beside the bed, she opened it atrandom, then carried it over to the stove in order to scan the pages bythe firelight streaming through the damper. The book opened at FirstKings, seventeenth chapter. She held it directly in the broad raysexamining the pages anxiously. There was only that one chapter head oneither page, and alas, its opening words were not "it came to pass. " Whatshe read with a sinking heart was:

_"And Elijah the Tishbite. "_

Now Georgina hadn't the slightest idea what a Tishbite was, but itsounded as if it were something dreadful. Somehow it is a thousand timesworse to be scared by a fear which is not understood than by one which isfamiliar. Suddenly she felt as bewildered and frightened as she had onthat morning long ago, when Jeremy's teeth went flying into the fire. Thehappiness of her whole little world seemed to be going to pieces. 

Throwing herself across the foot of Tippy's bed she crawled under theafghan thrown over it, even burrowing her head beneath it in order toshut out the dreadful things closing down on her. It had puzzled andfrightened her to know that something was eating Barby's heart out, evenin a figurative way, and now the word "Tishbite" filled her with a vaguesense of helplessness and impending disaster. 

Barbara, coming upstairs to hunt her after the guests were gone, foundher sound asleep with the afghan still over her head. She folded itgently back from the flushed face, not intending to waken her, butGeorgina's eyes opened and after a bewildered stare around the room shesat up, remembering. She had wakened to a world of trouble. Somehow itdid not seem quite so bad with Barbara standing over her, smiling. Whenshe went downstairs a little later, freshly washed and brushed, theTishbite rolled out of her thoughts as a fog lifts when the sun shines. 

But it came back at bedtime, when having said her prayers, she joined hervoice with Barbara's in the hymn that had been her earliest lullaby. Itwas a custom never omitted. It always closed the day for her:

 "Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm doth bind the restless wave, Oh, hear us when we cry to thee For those in peril on the sea. "_

As they sang she stole an anxious glance at Barbara several times. Thenshe made up her mind that Cousin Mehitable was mistaken. If her fatherwere "peculiar, " Barby wouldn't have that sweet look on her face when shesang that prayer for him. If he were making her unhappy she wouldn't besinging it at all. She wouldn't care whether he was protected or not"from rock and tempest, fire and foe. "

And yet, after Barby had gone downstairs and the sound of the piano camesoftly up from below--another bedtime custom, Georgina began thinkingagain about those whispering voices which she had heard as she sat underthe bed, behind the bird-of-paradise valance. More than ever before themusic suggested someone waiting for a ship which never came home, or fogbells on a lonely shore. 

Nearly a week went by before Richard made his first visit to the old grayhouse at the end of town. He came with the Towncrier, carrying his bell, and keeping close to his side for the first few minutes. Then he foundthe place far more interesting than the bungalow. Georgina took him allover it, from the garret where she played on rainy days to the seat up inthe willow, where standing in its highest crotch one could look clearacross the Cape to the Atlantic. They made several plans for theirtreasure-quest while up in the willow. They could see a place off towardsWood End Lighthouse which looked like one of the pirate places UncleDarcy had described in one of his tales. 

Barby had lemonade and cake waiting for them when they came down, andwhen she talked to him it wasn't at all in the way the ladies did whocame to see his Aunt Letty, as if they were talking merely to be graciousand kind to a strange little boy in whom they had no interest. Barby gavehis ear a tweak and said with a smile that made him feel as if they hadknown each other always:

"Oh, the good times I've had with boys just your size. I always playedwith my brother Eddy's friends. Boys make such good chums. I've oftenthought how much Georgina misses that I had. "

Presently Georgina took him out to the see-saw, where Captain Kiddpersisted in riding on Richard's end of the plank. 

"That's exactly the way my Uncle Eddy's terrier used to do back inKentucky when I visited there one summer, " she said, after the plank wasadjusted so as to balance them properly. "Only he barked all the time hewas riding. But he was fierce because Uncle Eddy fed him gunpowder. "

"What did he do that for?"

"To keep him from being gun-shy. And Uncle Eddy ate some, too, one timewhen he was little, because the colored stable boy told him it would makehim game. "

"Did it?"

"I don't know whether that did or not. Something did though, for he's thegamest man I know. "

Richard considered this a moment and then said: "I wonder what it woulddo to Captain Kidd if I fed him some. "

"Let's try it!" exclaimed Georgina, delighted with the suggestion. "There's some hanging up in the old powder-horn over the dining-roommantel. You have to give it to 'em in milk. Wait a minute. "

Jumping from the see-saw after giving fair warning, she ran to one of theside windows. 

"Barby, " she called. "I'm going to give Captain Kidd some milk. "

Barbara turned from her conversation with Uncle Darcy to say:

"Very well, if you can get it yourself. But be careful not to disturb thepans that haven't been skimmed. Tippy wouldn't like it. "

"I know what to get it out of, " called Georgina, "out of the bluepitcher. "

Richard watched while she opened the refrigerator door and poured somemilk into a saucer. 

"Carry it in and put it on the kitchen table, " she bade him, "while I getthe powder. "

When he followed her into the dining-room she was upon a chair, reachingfor the old powder horn, which hung on a hook under the firearm that haddone duty in the battle of Lexington. Richard wanted to get his hands onit, and was glad when she could not pull out the wooden plug whichstopped the small end of the horn. She turned it over to him to open. Hepeered into it, then shook it. 

"There isn't more than a spoonful left in it, " he said. 

"Well, gunpowder is so strong you don't need much. You know just a littlewill make a gun go off. It mightn't be safe to feed him much. Pour someout in your hand and drop it in the milk. "

Richard slowly poured a small mound out into the hollow of his hand, andpassed the horn back to her, then went to the kitchen whistling forCaptain Kidd. Not all of the powder went into the milk, however. The lastbit he swallowed himself, after looking at it long and thoughtfully. 

At the same moment, Georgina, before putting back the plug, paused, looked all around, and poured out a few grains into her own hand. If theTishbite was going to do anybody any harm, it would be well to beprepared. She had just hastily swallowed it and was hanging the horn backin place, when Richard returned. 

"He lapped up the last drop as if he liked it, " he reported. "Now we'llsee what happens. "

Chapter VIII

The Telegram that Took Barby Away

The painting of Richard's portrait interfered with the quest for buriedtreasure from day to day; but unbeknown either to artist or model, thedreams of that quest helped in the fashioning of the picture. In thepreliminary sittings in the studio at home Richard's father found itnecessary always to begin with some exhortation such as:

"Now, Dicky, this has _got_ to be more than just a 'Study of a Boy'sHead. ' I want to show by the expression of your face that it is anillustration of that poem, 'A boy's will is the wind's will, and thethoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. ' Chase that Binney Rogers andhis gang out of your mind for a while, can't you, and think of somethingbeside shinny and the hokey-pokey man. "

So far the portrait was satisfactory in that it was a remarkably goodlikeness of an unusually good-looking boy, but it was of a boy who seemedto be alertly listening for such things as Binney's cat-call, signalinghim from the alley. Here by the sea there was no need for suchexhortations. No sooner was he seated before the easel in the loft whichserved as a studio, with its barn-like, double doors thrown open abovethe water, than the rapt expression which his father coveted, crept intohis dark eyes. They grew big and dreamy, following the white sails acrossthe harbor. He was planning the secret expedition he and Georginaintended to undertake, just as soon as the portrait was finished. 

There were many preparations to make for it. They would have to secretetools and provisions; and in a book from which Georgina read aloudwhenever there was opportunity, were descriptions of various rites thatit were well to perform. One was to sacrifice a black cock, and sprinkleits blood upon the spot before beginning to dig. Richard did not questionwhy this should be done. The book recommended it as a practice which hadbeen followed by some very famous treasure hunters. If at times a certainwide-awake and calculating gleam suddenly dispelled the dreaminess ofexpression in which his father was exulting, it was because a blackOrpington rooster which daily strayed from a nearby cottage to the beachbelow the studio window, chose that moment to crow. Richard had markedthat black cock for the sacrifice. It was lordly enough to bring successupon any enterprise. 

In the meantime, as soon as his duties as model were over each morning, he was out of the studio with a whoop and up the beach as hard as hecould run to the Huntingdon house. By the time he reached it he was nolonger the artist's only son, hedged about with many limitations whichbelonged to that distinction. He was "Dare-devil Dick, the DreadDestroyer, " and Georgina was "Gory George, the Menace of the Main. "

Together they commanded a brigantine of their own. Passers-by saw only anold sailboat anchored at the deserted and rotting wharf up nearest thebreakwater. But the passers-by who saw only that failed to see eitherDare-devil Dick or Gory George. They saw, instead, two children whosefierce mustachios were the streakings of a burnt match, whose massivehoop ear-rings were the brass rings from a curtain pole, whose faithfulfollowing of the acts of Captain Quelch and other piratical gentlemen wasonly the mimicry of play. 

But Barbara knew how real they were, from the spotted handkerchief tiedaround the "bunged eye" of Dare-devil Dick, under his evil-looking slouchhat, to the old horse pistol buckled to his belt. Gory George wore thesame. And Barbara knew what serious business it was to them, even moreserious than the affairs of eating and drinking. 

Tippy scolded when she found that her half-pint bottles which she keptespecially for cream had been smuggled away in the hold of thebrigantine. But without bottles how could one give a realistic touch tothe singing of "Yo ho, and the rum below"?

And Tippy thought it was heathenish for Barbara to let Georgina dress upin some little knickerbockers and a roundabout which had been stored awaywith other clothes worn by Justin as a small boy. But her disapproval wasbeyond words when Barbara herself appeared at the back door one morning, so cleverly disguised as a gypsy, that Mrs. Triplett grudgingly handedout some cold biscuits before she discovered the imposition. The poor shewas glad to feed, but she had no use for an impudent, strolling gypsy. 

"Don't be cross, Tippy, " pleaded Barbara, laughing till the tears came. "I _had_ to do it. I can't bear to feel that Georgina is growingaway from me--that she is satisfied to leave me out of her games. Sinceshe's so taken up with that little Richard Moreland I don't seem asnecessary to her as I used to be. And I can't bear that, Tippy, when I'vealways been first in everything with her. She's so necessary to me. "

Mrs. Triplett made no answer. She felt that she couldn't do justice tothe occasion. She doubted if the Pilgrim monument itself could, even ifit were to stretch itself up to its full height and deliver a lecture onthe dignity of motherhood. She wondered what the Mayflower mothers wouldhave thought if they could have met this modern one on the beach, withface stained brown, playacting that she was a beggar of a gypsy. Howcould she hope to be one of those written of in Proverbs--"Her childrenrise up and call her blessed. Her own works praise her in the gates. "

Tippy ate her dinner alone that day, glancing grimly through the openwindow from time to time to the sand dunes back of the house, where anold hag of a gypsy in a short red dress with a gay bandanna knotted overher head, broiled bacon and boiled corn over a smoky campfire; and twoswaggering villains who smelled of tar and codfish (because of the oldnet which half-way filled the brigantine), sucked the very cobs when thecorn was eaten from them, forever registering that feast high above allother feasts in the tablet of blessed memories. 

The interruption to all this came as unexpectedly as a clap of thunderfrom a clear sky. A messenger boy on a wheel whirled up to the front gatewith a telegram. Tippy signed for it, not wanting the boy to see Barbarain such outlandish dress, then carried it out to the picnickers. She heldit under her apron until she reached them. Telegrams always spelledtrouble to Mrs. Triplett, but Barbara took this one from her with asmiling thank you, without, rising from her seat on the sand. Her fatheroften telegraphed instead of writing when away on his vacations, and sheknew he was up at a lake resort in Michigan, at an Editors' Convention. Telegrams had always been pleasant things in her experience. But as shetore this open and read she turned pale even under her brown stain. 

"It's papa, " she gasped. "Hurt in an automobile accident. They don't sayhow bad--just hurt. And he wants me. I must take the first train. "

She looked up at Mrs. Triplett helplessly, not even making an effort torise from the sand, she was so dazed and distressed by the suddensummons. It was the first time she had ever had the shock of bad news. Itwas the first time she had ever been called upon to act for herself insuch an emergency, and she felt perfectly numb, mind and body. Tippy'svoice sounded a mile away when she said:

"You can catch the boat. It's an hour till the _Dorothy Bradford_starts back to Boston. "

Still Barbara sat limp and powerless, as one sits in a nightmare. 

Georgina gave a choking gasp as two awful words rose up in her throat andstuck there. _"The Tishbite. "_ Whatever that mysterious horror mightbe, plainly its evil workings had begun. 

"Tut!" exclaimed Tippy, pulling Barbara to her feet. "Keep your head. You'll have to begin scrubbing that brown paint off your face if youexpect to reach the boat on time. "

Automatically Georgina responded to that "tut" as if it were the oldchallenge of the powder horn. No matter how she shivered she must showwhat brave stuff she was made of. Even with that awful forebodingclutching at her heart like an iron hand and Barby about to leave her, she mustn't show one sign of her distress. 

It was well that Georgina had learned to move briskly in her longfollowing after Tippy, else she could not have been of such service inthis emergency. Her eyes were blurred with tears as she hurried up to thegarret for suitcase and satchel, and down the hall to look up numbers inthe telephone directory. But it was a comfort even in the midst of herdistress to feel that she could take such an important part in thepreparations, that Tippy trusted her to do the necessary telephoning, andto put up a lunch for Barby without dictating either the messages or thecontents of the lunch-box. 

When Mr. James Milford called up, immediately after Richard had racedhome with the news, and offered to take Mrs. Huntingdon to the boat inhis machine, he thought it was Mrs. Huntingdon herself who answered him. The trembling voice seemed only natural under the circumstances. He wouldhave smiled could he have seen the pathetic little face uplifted towardsthe receiver, the quivering lip still adorned with the fierce mustachiosof Gory George, in strange contrast to the soft curls hanging over hershoulders now that they were no longer hidden by a piratical hat. She hadforgotten that she was in knickerbockers instead of skirts, and that theold horse-pistol was still at her belt, until Barbara caught her to herat parting with a laugh that turned into a sob, looking for a spot on herface clean enough to kiss. 

It was all over so soon--the machine whirling up to the door and awayagain to stop at the bank an instant for the money which Georgina hadtelephoned to have waiting, and then on to the railroad wharf where the_Dorothy Bradford_ had already sounded her first warning whistle. Georgina had no time to realize what was actually happening until it wasover. She climbed up into the mammoth willow tree in the corner of theyard to watch for the steamboat. It would come into view in a few minutesas it ploughed majestically through the water towards the lighthouse. 

Then desolation fell upon her. She had never realized until that momenthow dear her mother was to her. Then the thought came to her, suppose itwas Barby who had been hurt in an accident, and she Georgina, washurrying to her as Barby was hurrying to grandfather Shirley, unknowingwhat awaited her at the journey's end. For a moment she forgot her ownunhappiness at being left behind, in sympathetic understanding of hermother's distress. She wasn't going to think about her part of it shetold herself, she was going to be so brave----

Then her glance fell on the "holiday tree. "

The holiday tree was a little evergreen of Barby's christening if not ofher planting. For every gala day in the year it bore strange fruit, nomatter what the season. At Hallowe'en it was as gay with jack-o-lanternsand witches' caps as if the pixies themselves had decorated it. OnWashington's birthday each branch was tipped with a flag and a cherrytart. On the fourteenth of February it was hung with valentines, and atEaster she was always sure of finding a candy rabbit or two perched amongits branches and nests of colored eggs. It seemed to be at its best atChristmas, but it was when it took its turns at birthday celebrationsthat it was most wonderful. Then it blossomed with little glass lanternsof every color, glowing like red and green and golden stars. Last year ithad borne a great toy ship with all sails set, and nine "surprise"oranges, round, yellow boxes, each containing a gift, because she wasnine years old. In just two more days she would be ten, and Barby gone!

At that instant the boat whistle sounded long and deep, sending itsmelodious boom across the water. It seemed to strike some chord in thevery center of her being, and make her feel as if something inside weresinking down and down and down. The sensation was sickening. It grewworse as the boat steamed away. She stood up on a limb to watch it. Smaller and smaller it seemed, leaving only a long plume of smoke in itswake as it disappeared around Long Point. Then even the smoke faded, anda forlorn little figure, strangely at variance with the fierce piratesuit, she crumpled up in the crotch of the willow, her face hidden in herelbow, and began to sob piteously: "Oh, Barby! Barby!"

Chapter IX

The Birthday Prism

The Towncrier, passing along the street on an early morning trip to thebakery, stopped at the door of the antique shop, for a word with Mrs. Yates, the lady who kept it. She wanted him to "cry" an especial bargainsale of old lamps later in the week. That is how he happened to bestanding in the front door when the crash came in the rear of the shop, and it was because he was standing there that the crash came. 

Because Mrs. Yates was talking to him she couldn't be at the back doorwhen the fish-boy came with the fish, and nobody being there to take itthe instant he knocked, the boy looked in and threw it down on the tablenearest the door. And because the fish was left to lie there a momentwhile Mrs. Yates finished her conversation, the cat, stretched out on thehigh window ledge above the table, decided to have his breakfast withoutwaiting to be called. He was an enormous cat by the name of "Grandpa, "and because he was old and ponderous, and no longer light on his feet, when he leaped from the windowsill he came down clumsily in the middle ofthe very table _full_ of the old lamps which were set aside for thebargain sale. 

Of course, it was the biggest and fanciest lamp in the lot that wasbroken--a tall one with a frosted glass shade and a row of crystal prismsdangling around the bowl of it. It toppled over on to a pair of old brassandirons, smashing into a thousand pieces. Bits of glass flew in everydirection, and "Grandpa, " his fur electrified by his fright until helooked twice his natural size, shot through the door as if fired from acannon, and was seen no more that morning. 

Naturally, Mrs. Yates hurried to the back of the store to see what hadhappened, and Mr. Darcy, following, picked up from the wreck the onlypiece of the lamp not shattered to bits by the fall. It was one of theprisms, which in some miraculous way had survived the crash, a beautifulcrystal pendant without a single nick or crack. 

He picked it up and rubbed his coat sleeve down each of its three sides, and when he held it up to the light it sent a ripple of rainbows dancingacross the shop. He watched them, pleased as a child; and when Mrs. Yates, loud in her complaints of Grandpa, came with broom and dustpan tosweep up the litter, he bargained with her for the prism. 

That is how he happened to have an offering for Georgina's birthday whenhe reached the house a couple of hours later, not knowing that it was herbirthday. Nobody had remembered it, Barby being gone. 

It seemed to Georgina the forlornest day she had ever opened her eyesupon. The very fact that it was gloriously sunny with a delicious summerbreeze ruffling the harbor and sending the white sails scudding alonglike wings, made her feel all the more desolate. She was trying her bestto forget what day it was, but there wasn't much to keep her mind off thesubject. Even opportunities for helping Tippy were taken away, for Bellehad come to stay during Barby's absence, and she insisted on doing whatGeorgina otherwise would have done. 

If Barby had been at home there would have been no piano practice on sucha gala occasion as a tenth birthday. There would have been no time for itin the program of joyful happenings. But because time dragged, Georginawent to her scales and five-finger exercises as usual. With the hour-glass on the piano beside her, she practised not only her accustomedtime, till the sand had run half through, but until all but a quarter ofit had slipped down. Then she sauntered listlessly out into the dining-room and stood by one of the open windows, looking out through the wirescreen into the garden. 

On any other day she would have found entertainment in the kitchenlistening to Belle and Mrs. Triplett. Belle seemed doubly interesting nowthat she had heard of the unused wedding dress and the sorrow that would"blight her whole life. " But Georgina did not want anyone to see howbitterly she was disappointed. 

Just outside, so close to the window that she could have reached out andtouched it had it not been for the screen, stood the holiday tree. It hadheld out its laden arms to her on so many festal occasions that Georginahad grown to feel that it took a human interest in all her celebrations. To see it standing bare now, like any ordinary tree, made her feel thather last friend was indifferent. Nobody cared. Nobody was glad that shewas in the world. In spite of all she could do to check them, two bigtears welled up and rolled down her cheeks; then another and another. Shelifted up the hem of her dress to wipe them away, and as she did so UncleDarcy came around the hoase. 

He looked in at the open window, then asked: "Weather a bit squally, hey?Better put into port and tie up till storm's over. Let your Uncle Darcyhave a hand at the helm. Come out here, Barby, and let's talk it over onthe door-step. "

There was something so heartening in the cheery voice that Georgina madeone more dab at her eyes with the hem of her dress skirt, then dropped itand went out through the screen door to join him on the steps which leddown into the garden. At first she was loath to confess the cause of hertears. She felt ashamed of being caught crying simply because no one hadremembered the date. It wasn't that she wanted presents, she sobbed. Itwas that she wanted someone to be glad that she'd been born and it was solonesome without Barby--

In the midst of her reluctant confession Mr. Darcy bethought himself ofthe prism in his pocket. 

"Here, " he said, drawing it out. "Take this and put a rainbow around yourtroubles. It's a sort of magic glass. When you look through it, it showsyou things you can't see with your ordinary eyes. Look what it does tothe holiday tree. "

There was a long-drawn breath of amazement from Georgina as she held theprism to her eyes and looked through it at the tree. 

"Oh! Oh! It does put a rainbow around every branch and every little tuftof green needles. It's even lovelier than the colored lanterns were. Isn't it wonderful? It puts a rainbow around the whole outdoors. "

Her gaze went from the grape arbor to the back garden gate. Then shejumped up and started around the house, the old man following, andsmiling over each enthusiastic "oh" she uttered, as the prism showed hernew beauty at every step. He was pleased to have been the source of hernew pleasure. 

"It's like looking into a different world, " she cried, as she reached thekitchen door, and eagerly turned the prism from one object to another. Mrs. Triplett was scowling intently over the task of trying to turn thelid of a glass jar which refused to budge. 

"Oh, it even puts a rainbow around Tippy's frown, " Georgina criedexcitedly. Then she ran to hold the prism over Belle's eyes. 

"Look what Uncle Darcy brought me for my birthday. See how it puts arainbow around every blessed thing, even the old black pots and pans!"

In showing it to Tippy she discovered a tiny hole in the end of the prismby which it had been hung from the lamp, and she ran upstairs to find apiece of ribbon to run through it. When she came down again, the prismhanging from her neck by a long pink ribbon, Uncle Darcy greeted her witha new version of the Banbury Cross song:

 "Rings on her fingers and ribbon of rose, She shall have rainbows wherever she goes. "

"That's even better than having music wherever you go, " answeredGeorgina, whirling around on her toes. Then she stopped in a listeningattitude, hearing the postman. 

When she came back from the front door with only a magazine herdisappointment was keen, butl she said bravely:

"Of course, I _knew_ there couldn't be a letter from Barby thissoon. She couldn't get there till last night--but just for a minute Icouldn't help hoping--but I didn't mind it half so much, Uncle Darcy, when I looked at the postman through the prism. Even his whiskers wereblue and red and yellow. "

That afternoon a little boat went dipping up and down across the waves. It was _The Betsey_, with Uncle Darcy pulling at the oars andGeorgina as passenger. Lifting the prism which still hung from her neckby the pink ribbon, she looked out upon what seemed to be an enchantedharbor. It was filled with a fleet of rainbows. Every sail was outlinedwith one, every mast edged with lines of red and gold and blue. Even thegray wharves were tinged with magical color, and the water itself, to herreverent thought, suggested the "sea of glass mingled with fire, " whichis pictured as one of the glories of the New Jerusalem. 

"Isn't it _wonderful, _ Uncle Darcy?" she asked in a hushed, awedtone. "It's just like a miracle the way this bit of glass changes thewhole world. Isn't it?"

Before he could answer, a shrill whistle sounded near at hand. They werepassing the boathouse on the beach below the Green Stairs. Looking upthey saw Richard, hanging out of the open doors of the loft, waving tothem. Georgina stood up in the boat and beckoned, but he shook his head, pointing backward with his thumb into the studio, and disconsolatelylately shrugged his shoulders. 

"He wants to go _so_ bad!" exclaimed Georgina. "Seems as if hisfather's a mighty slow painter. Maybe if you'd ask him the way you didbefore, Uncle Darcy, he'd let Richard off this one more time--being mybirthday, you know. "

She looked at him with the bewitching smile which he usually foundimpossible to resist, but this time he shook his head. 

"No, I don't want him along to-day. I've brought you out here to show yousomething and have a little talk with you alone. Maybe I ought to waittill you're older before I say what I want to say, but at my time of lifeI'm liable to slip off without much warning, and I don't want to go tillI've said it to you. "

Georgina put down her prism to stare at him in eager-eyed wonder. She wascurious to know what he could show her out here on the water, and what hewanted to tell her that was as important as his solemn words implied. 

"Wait till we come to it, " he said, answering the unspoken question inher eyes. And Georgina, who dearly loved dramatic effects in her ownstory-telling, waited for something--she knew not what--to burst upon herexpectant sight. 

They followed the line of the beach for some time, dodging in betweenmotor boats and launches, under the high railroad wharf and around thesmaller ones where the old fish-houses stood. Past groups of children, playing in the sand they went, past artists sketching under their whiteumbrellas, past gardens gay with bright masses of color, past drying netsspread out on the shore. 

Presently Uncle Darcy stopped rowing and pointed across a vacant strip ofbeach between two houses, to one on the opposite side of the street. 

"There it is, " he announced. "That's what I wanted to show you. "

Georgina followed the direction of his pointing finger. 

"Oh, that!" she said in a disappointed tone. "I've seen that all my life. It's nothing but the Figurehead House. "

She was looking at a large white house with a portico over the frontdoor, on the roof of which portico was perched half of the wooden figureof a woman. It was of heroic size, head thrown back as if looking off tosea, and with a green wreath in its hands. Weather-beaten and discolored, it was not an imposing object at first glance, and many a jibe and laughit had called forth from passing tourists. 

Georgina's disappointment showed in her face. 

"I know all about that, " she remarked. "Mrs. Tupman told me herself. Shecalls it the Lady of Mystery. She said that years and years ago aschooner put out from this town on a whaling cruise, and was gone morethan a year. When it was crossing the equator, headed for home, the look-out at the masthead saw a strange object in the water that looked like awoman afloat. The Captain gave orders to lower the boats, and when theydid so they found this figurehead. She said it must have come from theprow of some great clipper in the East India trade. They were in theIndian Ocean, you know. 

"There had been some frightful storms and afterwards they heard of manywrecks. This figurehead was so long they had to cut it in two to get itinto the hold of the vessel. They brought it home and set it up thereover the front door, and they call it the Lady of Mystery, because theysaid 'from whence that ship came, what was its fate and what was itsdestination will always be shrouded in mystery. ' And Mrs. Tupman saidthat a famous artist looked at it once and said it was probably the workof a Spanish artist, and that from the pose of its head and the wreath inits hands he was sure it was intended to represent Hope. Was _that_what you were going to tell me?"

The old man had rested on his oars while she hurried through this tale, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as if she thought she wasforestalling him. Now he picked them up again and began rowing out intothe harbor. 

"That was a part of it, " he admitted, "but that's only the part that thewhole town knows. That old figurehead has a meaning for me that nobodyelse that's living knows about. That's what I want to pass on to you. "

He rowed several minutes more before he said slowly, with a wistfultenderness coming into his dim old eyes as he looked at her:

"Georgina, I don't suppose anybody's ever told you about the troublesI've had. They wouldn't talk about such things to a child like you. MaybeI shouldn't, now; but when I saw how disappointed you were this morning, I said to myself, 'If she's old enough to feel trouble that way, she'sold enough to understand and to be helped by hearing about mine. '"

It seemed hard for him to go on, for again he paused, looking off towardthe lighthouse in the distance. Then he said slowly, in a voice thatshook at times:

"Once--I had a boy--that I set all my hopes on--just as a man puts allhis cargo into one vessel; and nobody was ever prouder than I was, whenthat little craft went sailing along with the best of them. I used tolook at him and think, _'Danny'll_ weather the seas no matter howrough they are, and he'll bring up in the harbor I'm hoping he'll reach, with all flags flying. ' And then--something went wrong--"

The tremulous voice broke. "My little ship went down--all my preciouscargo lost--"

Another and a longer pause. In it Georgina seemed to hear CousinMehitable's husky voice, half whispering:

_"And the lamp threw a shadow on the yellow blind, plain as aphotograph. The shadow of an old man sitting with his arms flung outacross the table and his head bowed on-them. And he was groaning, 'Oh, myDanny! My Danny! If you could only have gone that way. '"_

For a moment Georgina felt the cruel hurt of his grief as if the pain hadstabbed her own heart. The old man went on:

"If it had only been any other kind of a load, anything but_disgrace_, I could have carried it without flinching. But that, itseemed I just couldn't face. Only the good Lord knows how I lived throughthose first few weeks. Then your grandfather Huntingdon came to me. Hewas always a good friend. And he asked me to row him out here on thewater. When we passed the Figurehead House he pointed up at that head. Itwas all white and fair in those days, before the paint wore off. And hesaid, 'Dan'l Darcy, _as long as a man keeps Hope at the prow he keepsafloat_. As soon as he drops it he goes to pieces and down to thebottom, the way that ship did when it lost its figurehead. You mustn'tlet go, Dan'l. You _must_ keep Hope at the prow. 

"'Somewhere in God's universe either in this world or another your boy isalive and still your son. You've got to go on hoping that if he'sinnocent his name will be cleared of this disgrace, and if he's guiltyhe'll wipe out the old score against him some way and make good. '

"And then he gave me a line to live by. A line he said that had beenwritten by a man who was stone blind, and hadn't anything to look forwardto all the rest of his life but groping in the dark. He said he'd not

 "'Bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. '

"At first it didn't seem to mean anything to me, but he made me say itafter him as if it were a sort of promise, and I've been saying it everyday of every year since then. I'd said it to myself first, when I metpeople on the street that I knew were thinking of Danny's disgrace, and Ididn't see how I was going to get up courage to pass 'em. And I said itwhen I was lying on my bed at night with my heart so sore and heavy Icouldn't sleep, and after a while it did begin to put courage into me, sothat I could hope in earnest. And when I did _that, _ little lass--"

He leaned over to smile into her eyes, now full of tears, he had sowrought upon her tender sympathies--

"When I did that, it put a rainbow around my trouble just as that prismdid around your empty holiday tree. It changed the looks of the wholeworld for me. 

"_That's_ what I brought you out here to tell you, Georgina. I wantto give you the same thing that your grandfather Huntingdon gave me--thatline to live by. Because troubles come to everybody. They'll come to you, too, but I want you to know this, Baby, they can't hurt you as long asyou keep Hope at the prow, because Hope is a magic glass that makesrainbows of our tears. Now you won't forget that, will you? Even afterUncle Darcy is dead and gone, you'll remember that he brought you outhere on your birthday to give you that good word--_'still bear up andsteer right onward, '_ no matter what happens. And to tell you that inall the long, hard years he's lived through, he's proved it was good. "

Georgina, awed and touched of soul, could only nod her assent. Butbecause Childhood sometimes has no answer to make to the confidences ofAge is no reason that they are not taken to heart and stowed away therefor the years to build upon. In the unbroken silence with which theyrowed back to shore, Georgina might have claimed three score yearsbesides her own ten, so perfect was the feeling of comradeship betweenthem. 

As they passed the pier back of the antique shop, a great gray cat roseand stretched itself, then walked ponderously down to the water's edge. It was "Grandpa. " Georgina, laughing a little shakily because of recenttears, raised her prism to put a rainbow around the cat's tail, unknowingthat but for him the crystal pendant would now be hanging from an antiquelamp instead of from the ribbon around her neck. 

Chapter X

Moving Pictures

It often happens that when one is all primed and cocked for trouble, thattrouble flaps its wings and flies away for a time, leaving nothing tofire at. So Georgina, going home with her prism and her "line to liveby, " ready and eager to prove how bravely she could meet disappointments, found only pleasant surprises awaiting her. 

Mrs. Triplett had made a birthday cake in her absence. It was on thesupper table with ten red candles atop. And there was a note from Barbybeside her plate which had come in the last mail. It had been posted atsome way-station. There was a check inside for a dollar which she was tospend as she pleased. A dear little note it was, which made Georgina'sthroat ache even while it brought a glow to her heart. Then Belle, whohad not known it was her birthday in time to make her a present, announced that she would take her to a moving picture show after supper, instead. 

Georgina had frequently been taken to afternoon performances, but neverat night. It was an adventure in itself just to be down in the part oftown where the shops were, when they were all lighted, and when thesummer people were surging along the board-walk and out into the middleof the narrow street in such crowds that the automobiles and"accommodations" had to push their way through slowly, with a greathonking of warning horns. 

The Town Hall was lighted for a dance when they passed it. The windows ofthe little souvenir shops seemed twice as attractive as when seen by day, and early as it was in the evening, people were already lined up in thedrug-store, three deep around the soda-water fountain. 

Georgina, thankful that Tippy had allowed her to wear her gold locket forthe occasion, walked down the aisle and took her seat near the stage, feeling as conspicuous and self-conscious as any debutante entering a boxat Grand Opera. 

It was a hot night, but on a line with the front seats, there was adouble side door opening out onto a dock. From where Georgina sat shecould look out through the door and see the lights of a hundred boatstwinkling in long wavy lines across the black water, and now and then asalt breeze with the fishy tang she loved, stole across the room andtouched her cheek like a cool finger. 

The play was not one which Barbara would have chosen for Georgina to see, being one that was advertised as a thriller. It was full of hair-breadthescapes and tragic scenes. There was a shipwreck in it, and passengerswere brought ashore in the breeches buoy, just as she had seen sailorsbrought in on practice days over at the Race Point Lifesaving station. And there was a still form stretched out stark and dripping under a pieceof tarpaulin, and a girl with long fair hair streaming wildly over hershoulders knelt beside it wringing her hands. 

Georgina stole a quick side-glance at Belle. That was the way it had beenin the story of Emmett Potter's drowning, as they told it on the day ofCousin Mehitable's visit. Belle's hands were locked together in her lap, and her lips were pressed in a thin line as if she were trying to keepfrom saying something. Several times in the semi-darkness of the househer handkerchief went furtively to her eyes. 

Georgina's heart beat faster. Somehow, with the piano pounding out thatdeep tum-tum, like waves booming up on the rocks, she began to feelstrangely confused, as if _she_ were the heroine on the films; as if_she_ were kneeling there on the shore in that tragic moment ofparting from her dead lover. She was sure that she knew exactly how Bellefelt then, how she was feeling now. 

When the lights were switched on again and they rose to go out, Georginawas so deeply under the spell of the play that it gave her a little shockof surprise when Belle began talking quite cheerfully and in her ordinarymanner to her next neighbor. She even laughed in response to some jokingremark as they edged their way slowly up the aisle to the door. It seemedto Georgina that if she had lived through a scene like the one they hadjust witnessed, she could never smile again. On the way out she glancedup again at Belie several times, wondering. 

Going home the street was even more crowded than it had been coming. Theycould barely push their way along, and were bumped into constantly bypeople dodging back to escape the jam when the crowd had to part to let avehicle through. But after a few blocks of such jostling the going waseasier. The drug-store absorbed part of the throng, and most of theprocession turned up Carver Street to the Gifford House and the cottagesbeyond on Bradford Street. 

By the time Georgina and Belle came to the last half-mile of the plankwalk, scarcely a footstep sounded behind them. After passing the GreenStairs there was an unobstructed view of the harbor. A full moon was highoverhead, flooding the water and beach with such a witchery of light thatGeorgina moved along as if she were in a dream--in a silver dream besidea silver sea. 

Belle pointed to a little pavilion in sight of the breakwater. "Let's goover there and sit down a few minutes, " she said. "It's a waste of goodmaterial to go indoors on a night like this. "

They crossed over, sinking in the sand as they stepped from the road tothe beach, till Georgina had to take off her slippers and shake thembefore she could settle down comfortably on the bench in the pavilion. They sat there a while without speaking, just as they had sat before thepictures on the films, for never on any film was ever shown a scene ofsuch entrancing loveliness as the one spread out before them. In thebroad path made by the moon hung ghostly sails, rose great masts, twinkled myriads of lights. It was so still they could hear the swish ofthe tide creeping up below, the dip of near-by oars and the chug of amotor boat, far away down by the railroad wharf. 

Then Belle began to talk. She looked straight out across the shining pathof the moon and spoke as if she were by herself. She did not look atGeorgina, sitting there beside her. Perhaps if she had, she would haverealized that her listener was only a child and would not have said allshe did. Or maybe, something within her felt the influence of the night, the magical drawing of the moon as the tide feels it, and she could nothold back the long-repressed speech that rose to her lips. Maybe it wasthat the play they had seen, quickened old memories into painful lifeagain. 

It was on a night just like this, she told Georgina, that Emmett firsttold her that he cared for her--ten years ago this summer. Ten years!The whole of Georgina's little lifetime! And now Belle was twenty-seven. Twenty-seven seemed very old to Georgina. She stole another upward glanceat her companion. Belle did not look old, sitting there in her whitedress, like a white moonflower in that silver radiance, a little lock ofsoft blonde hair fluttering across her cheek. 

In a rush of broken sentences with long pauses between which somehow toldalmost as much as words, Belle recalled some of the scenes of thatsummer, and Georgina, who up to this night had only glimpsed the dimoutlines of romance, as a child of ten would glimpse them through oldbooks, suddenly saw it face to face, and thereafter found it something towonder about and dream sweet, vague dreams over. 

Suddenly Belle stood up with a complete change of manner. 

"My! it must be getting late, " she said briskly. "Aunt Maria will scoldif I keep you out any longer. "

Going home, she was like the Belle whom Georgina had always known--sodifferent from the one lifting the veil of memories for the little whilethey sat in the pavilion. 

Georgina had thought that with no Barby to "button her eyes shut with akiss" at the end of her birthday, the going-to-sleep time would be sad. But she was so busy recalling the events of the day that she neverthought of the omitted ceremony. For a long time she lay awake, imaginingall sorts of beautiful scenes in which she was the heroine. 

First, she went back to what Uncle Darcy had told her, and imaginedherself as rescuing an only child who was drowning. The whole town stoodby and cheered when she came up with it, dripping, and the mother tookher in her arms and said, _"You_ are our prism, Georgina Huntingdon!But for your noble act our lives would be, indeed, desolate. It is youwho have filled them with rainbows. "

Then she was in a ship crossing the ocean, and a poor sailor hearing herspeak of Cape Cod would come and ask her to tell him of its people, andshe would find he was Danny. She would be the means of restoring him tohis parents. 

And then, she and Richard on some of their treasure-hunting expeditionswhich they were still planning every time they met, would unearth acasket some dark night by the light of a fitful lantern, and inside wouldbe a confession written by the man who had really stolen the money, saying that Dan Darcy was innocent. And Uncle Darcy and Aunt Elspethwould be so heavenly glad--The tears came to Georgina's eyes as shepictured the scene in the little house in Fishburn Court, it came to herso vividly. 

The clock downstairs struck twelve, but still she went on with thepleasing pictures moving through her mind as they had moved across thefilms earlier in the evening. The last one was a combination of what shehad seen there and what Belle had told her. 

She was sitting beside a silver sea across which a silver moon was makinga wonderful shining path of silver ripples, and somebody was telling her--what Emmett had told Belle ten years ago. And she knew past all doubtingthat if that shadowy somebody beside her should die, she would carry thememory of him to her grave as Belle was doing. It seemed such a sweet, sad way to live that she thought it would be more interesting to have herlife like that, than to have it go along like the lives of all themarried people of her acquaintance. And if _he_ had a father likeEmmett's father she would cling to him as Belle did, and go to see himoften and take the part of a real daughter to him. But she wouldn't wanthim to be like Belle's "Father Potter. " He was an old fisherman, toocrippled to follow the sea any longer, so now he was just a mender ofnets, sitting all day knotting twine with dirty tar-blackened fingers. 

The next morning when she went downstairs it was Belle and not Mrs. Triplett who was stepping about the kitchen in a big gingham apron, preparing breakfast. Mrs. Triplett was still in bed. Such a thing hadnever happened before within Georgina's recollection. 

"It's the rheumatism in her back, " Belle reported. "It's so bad she can'tlie still with any comfort, and she can't move without groaning. So she'ssort of 'between the de'il and the deep sea. ' And touchy is no name forit. She doesn't like it if you don't and she doesn't like it if you do;but you can't wonder when the pain's so bad. It's pretty near lumbago. "

Georgina, who had finished her dressing by tying the prism around herneck, was still burning with the desire which Uncle Darcy's talk hadkindled within her, to be a little comfort to everybody. 

"Let me take her toast and tea up to her, " she begged. With that toastand tea she intended to pass along the good word Uncle Darcy had givenher--"the line to live by. " But Tippy was in no humor to be adjured by achit of a child to bear up and steer right onward. Such advice would havebeen coldly received just then even from her minister. 

"You don't know what you're talking about, " she exclaimed testily. "Bearup? Of course I'll bear up. There's nothing else _to_ do withrheumatism, but you needn't come around with any talk of putting rainbowsaround it or me either. "

She gave her pillow an impatient thump with her hard knuckles. 

"Deliver me from people who make it their business in life always to actcheerful no matter _what. _ The Scripture itself says 'There's a timeto laugh and a time to weep, a time to mourn and a time to dance. ' Whenthe weeping time comes I can't abide either people or books that goaround spreading cheerful sayings on everybody like salve!"

Tippy, lying there with her hair screwed into a tight little button onthe top of her head, looked strangely unlike herself. Georgina descendedto the kitchen, much offended. It hurt her feelings to have her goodoffices spurned in such a way. She didn't care how bad anybody'srheumatism was she muttured. "It was no excuse for saying such nastythings to people who were trying to be kind to them. "

Belle suggested presently that the customary piano practice be omittedthat morning for fear it might disturb Aunt Maria, so when the usuallittle tasks were done Georgina would have found time dragging, had itnot been for the night letter which a messenger boy brought soon afterbreakfast. Grandfather Shirley was better than she had expected to findhim, Barby wired. Particulars would follow soon in a letter. It cheeredGeorgina up so much that she took a pencil and tablet of paper up intothe willow tree and wrote a long account to her mother of the birthdayhappenings. What with the red-candled cake and the picture show and theafternoon in the boat it sounded as if she had had a very happy day. Butmostly she wrote about the prism, and what Uncle Darcy had told her aboutthe magic glass of Hope. When it was done she went in to Belle. 

"May I go down to the post-office to mail this and stop on my way back atthe Green Stairs and see if Richard can come and play with me?" sheasked. 

Belle considered. "Better stay down at the Milford's to do your playing, "she answered. "It might bother Aunt Maria to have a boy romping aroundhere. "

So Georgina fared forth, after taking off her prism and hanging it in asafe place. Only Captain Kidd frisked down to meet her when she stoodunder the studio window and gave the alley yodel which Richard had taughther. There was no answer. She repeated it several times, and then Mr. Moreland appeared at the window, in his artist's smock with a palette onhis thumb and a decidedly impatient expression on his handsome face. Richard was posing, he told her, and couldn't leave for half an hour. Histone was impatient, too, for he had just gotten a good start after manyinterruptions. 

Undecided whether to go back home or sit down on the sand and wait, Georgina stood looking idly about her. And while she hesitated, Manueland Joseph and Rosa came straggling along the beach in search ofadventure. 

It came to Georgina like an inspiration that it wasn't Barby who hadforbidden her to play with them, it was Tippy. And with a vague feelingthat she was justified in disobeying her because of her recent crossness, she rounded them up for a chase over the granite slabs of the breakwater. If they would be Indians, she proposed, she'd be the Deerslayer, like thehero of the Leather-Stocking Tales, and chase 'em with a gun. 

They had never heard of those tales, but they were more than willing toundertake any game which Georgina might propose. So after a littlecoaching in war-whoops, with a battered tin pan for a tom-tom, threeimpromptu Indians sped down the beach under the studio windows, pursuedby a swift-footed Deerslayer with flying curls. The end of a broken oarwas her musket, which she brandished fiercely as she echoed their yells. 

Mr. Moreland gave a groan of despair as he looked at his model when thosewar-whoops broke loose. Richard, who had succeeded after many trials inlapsing into the dreamy attitude which his father wanted, started up atthe first whoop, so alert and interested that his nostrils quivered. Hescented excitement of some kind and was so eager to be in the midst of itthat the noise of the tom-tom made him wriggle in his chair. 

He looked at his father appealingly, then made an effort to settle downinto his former attitude. His body assumed the same listless pose asbefore, but his eyes were so eager and shining with interest that theyfairly spoke each time the rattly drumming on the tin pan sounded achallenge. 

"It's no use, Dicky, " said his father at last. "It's all up with us forthis time. You might as well go on. But I wish that little tom-boy hadstayed at home. "

And Richard went, with a yell and a hand-spring, to throw in his lot withManuel and Joseph and be chased by the doughty Deer-slayer and her hound. In the readjustment of parts Rosa was told to answer to the name ofHector. It was all one to Rosa whether she was hound or redskin, so longas she was allowed a part in the thrilling new game. Richard had thepromise of being Deer-slayer next time they played it. 

Chapter XI

The Old Rifle Gives Up Its Secret

Out of that game with forbidden playmates, grew events which changed thelives of several people. It began by Richard's deciding that a real gunwas necessary for his equipment if he was to play the part of Leather-Stocking properly. Also, he argued, it would be a valuable addition totheir stock of fire-arms. The broken old horse-pistols were good enoughto play at pirating with, but something which would really shoot wasneeded when they started out in earnest on a sure-enough adventure. 

Georgina suggested that he go to Fishburn Court and borrow a rifle thatshe had seen up in Uncle Darcy's attic. She would go with him and do theasking, she added, but Belle had promised to take her with her the nexttime she went to see the net-mender, and the next time would be thefollowing afternoon, if Tippy was well enough to be up and around. Georgina couldn't miss the chance to see inside the cottage that had beenthe home of a hero and Belle's drowned lover. She wanted to see thenewspaper which Mr. Potter showed everybody who went to the house. It hadan account of the wreck and the rescue in it, with Emmett's picture onthe front page, and black headlines under it that said, "Died like ahero. "

Tippy was well enough to be up next day, so Richard went alone toFishburn Court, and Georgina trudged along the sandy road with Belle tothe weather-beaten cottage on the edge of the cranberry bog. Belle toldher more about the old man as they walked along. 

"Seems as if he just lives on that memory. He can't get out in the boatsany more, being so crippled up, and he can't see to read much, so there'slots of time for him to sit and think on the past. If it wasn't for thenets he'd about lose his mind. I wouldn't say it out, and you needn'trepeat it, but sometimes I think it's already touched a mite. You see thetwo of them lived there together so long alone, that Emmett was all inall to his father. I suppose that's why Emmett is all he can talk aboutnow. "

When they reached the cottage Mr. Potter was sitting out in front asusual, busy with his work. Georgina was glad that he did not offer toshake hands. His were so dirty and black with tar she felt she could notbear to touch them. He was a swarthy old man with skin like wrinkledleather, and a bushy, grizzled beard which grew up nearly to his eyes. Again Georgina wondered, looking at Belle in her crisp, white dress andwhite shoes. How could she care for this unkempt old creature enough tocall him Father?

As she followed Belle around inside the dreary three-room cottage shewanted to ask if this would have been her home if Emmett had not beendrowned, but she felt a delicacy about asking such a question. Shecouldn't imagine Belle in such a setting, but after she had followed heraround a while longer she realized that the house wouldn't stay drearywith such a mistress. In almost no time the place was put to rights, andthere was a pan of cookies ready to slip into the oven. 

When the smell of their browning stole out to the front door the old manleft his bench and came in to get a handful of the hot cakes. Then, justas Belle said he would, he told Georgina all that had happened the nightof the wreck. 

"That's the very chair he was sittin' in, when Luke Jones come in withthe word that men were needed. He started right off with Luke soon as hecould get into his oil-skins, for 'twas stormin' to beat the band. But hedidn't go fur. Almost no time it seemed like, he was comin' into thehouse agin, and he went into that bedroom there, and shet the door behindhim. That of itself ought to 'uv made me know something out of the usualwas beginnin' to happen, for he never done such a thing before. A fewminutes later he came out with an old rifle that him and Dan Darcy usedto carry around in the dunes for target shootin' and he set it right downin that corner by the chimney jamb. 

"'First time anybody passes this way goin' down ito Fishburn Court, ' hesays, 'I wish you'd send this along to Uncle Dan'l. It's his by rights, and he'd ought a had it long ago. '

"An' them was his last words to me, except as he pulled the door to afterhim he called 'Good-bye Pop, if I don't see you agin. '

"I don't know when he'd done such a thing before as to say good-bye whenhe went out, and I've often wondered over it sence, could he 'a had anywarnin' that something was goin' to happen to him?"

Georgina gazed at the picture in the newspaper long and curiously. It hadbeen copied from a faded tin-type, but even making allowances for thatEmmett didn't look as she imagined a hero should, nor did it seempossible it could be the man Belle had talked about. She wished shehadn't seen it. It dimmed the glamor of romance which seemed to surroundhim like a halo. Hearing about him in the magical moonlight she hadpictured him as looking as Sir Galahad. But if _this_ was what hereally looked like--Again she glanced wonderingly at Belle. How could shecare so hard for ten long years for just an ordinary man like that?

When it was time to go home Belle suggested that they walk around byFishburn Court. It would be out of their way, but she had heard that AuntElspeth wasn't as well as usual. 

"Emmett always called her Aunt, " she explained to Georgina as they walkedalong, "so I got into the way of doing it, too. He was so fond of Dan'smother. She was so good to him after his own went that I feel I want tobe nice to her whenever I can, for his sake. "

"You know, " she continued, "Aunt Elspeth never would give up but that Danwas innocent, and since her memory's been failing her this last year, shetalks all the time about his coming home; just lies there in bed half hertime and babbles about him. It almost kills Uncle Dan'l to hear her, because, of course, he knows the truth of the matter, that Dan _was_guilty. He as good as confessed it before he ran away, and the runningaway itself told the story. "

When they reached Fishburn Court they could see two people sitting infront of the cottage. Uncle Darcy was in an armchair on the grass withone of the cats in his lap, and Richard sat on one seat of the red, wooden swing with Captain Kidd on the opposite site one. Richard had arifle across his knees, the one Georgina had suggested borrowing. Hepassed his hand caressingly along its stock now and then, and atintervals raised it to sight along the barrel. It was so heavy he couldnot keep it from wobbling when he raised it to take aim in variousdirections. 

At the click of the gate-latch the old man tumbled Yellownose out of hislap and rose stiffly to welcome his guests. 

"Come right in, " he said cordially. "Mother'll be glad to see you, Belle. She's been sort of low in her mind lately, and needs cheering up. "

He led the way into a low-ceilinged, inner bedroom with the shades allpulled down. It was so dark, compared to the glaring road they had beenfollowing, that Georgina blinked at the dim interior. She could scarcelymake out the figure on the high-posted bed, and drew back, whispering toBelle that she'd stay outside until they were ready to go home. Leavingthem on the threshold, she went back to the shady door-yard to a seat inthe swing beside Captain Kidd. 

"It's Uncle Darcy's son's rifle, " explained Richard. "He's been tellingme about him. Feel how smooth the stock is. "

Georgina reached over and passed her hand lightly along the polishedwood. 

"He and a friend of his called Emmett Potter used to carry it on thedunes sometimes to shoot at a mark with. It wasn't good for much else, it's so old. Dan got it in a trade once; traded a whole litter of colliepups for it. Uncle Darcy says he'd forgotten there was such a gun tillsomebody brought it to him after Emmett was drowned. "

"Oh, " interrupted Georgina, her eyes wide with interest. "Emmett's fatherhas just been telling me about this very rifle. But I didn't dream it wasthe one I'd seen up in the attic here. He showed me the corner whereEmmett stood it when he left for the wreck, and told what was to be donewith it. 'Them were his last words, '" she added, quoting Mr. Potter. 

She reached out her hand for the clumsy old firearm and almost droppedit, finding it so much heavier than she expected. She wanted to touchwith her own fingers the weapon that had such an interesting history, andabout which a hero had spoken his last words. 

"The hammer's broken, " continued Richard. "Whoever brought it home let itfall. It's all rusty, too, because it was up in the attic so many yearsand the roof leaked on it. But Uncle Darcy said lots of museums would beglad to have it because there aren't many of these old flint-locks leftnow. He's going to leave it to the Pilgrim museum up by the monument whenhe's dead and gone, but he wants to keep it as long as he lives becauseDanny set such store by it. "

"There's some numbers or letters or something on it, " announced Georgina, peering at a small brass plate on the stock. "I can't make them out. Itell you what let's do, " she exclaimed in a burst of enthusiasm. "Let'spolish it up so's we can read them. Tippy uses vinegar and wood ashes forbrass. I'll run get some. "

Georgina was enough at home here to find what she wanted without asking, and as full of resources as Robinson Crusoe. She was back in a very fewminutes with a shovel full of ashes from the kitchen stove, and an oldcan lid full of vinegar, drawn from a jug in the corner cupboard. With ascrap of a rag dipped first in vinegar, then in ashes, she beganscrubbing the brass plate diligently. It had corroded until there was anedge of green entirely around it. 

"I love to take an old thing like this and scrub it till it shines likegold, " she said, scouring away with such evident enjoyment of the jobthat Richard insisted on having a turn. She surrendered the raggrudgingly, but continued to direct operations. 

"Now dip it in the ashes again. No, not that way, double the rag up anduse more vinegar. Rub around that other corner a while. Here, let me showyou. "

She took the rifle away from him again and proceeded to illustrate heradvice. Suddenly she looked up, startled. 

"I believe we've rubbed it loose. It moved a little to one side. See?"

He grabbed it back and examined it closely. "I bet it's meant to move, "he said finally. "It looks like a lid, see! It slides sideways. "

"Oh, I remember now, " she cried, much excited. "That's the way Leather-Stocking's rifle was made. There was a hole in the stock with a brassplate over it, and he kept little pieces of oiled deer-skin inside of itto wrap bullets in before he loaded 'em in. I remember just as plain, theplace in the story where he stopped to open it and take out a piece ofoiled deer-skin when he started to load. "

As she explained she snatched the rifle back into her own hands oncemore, and pried at the brass plate until she broke the edge of her thumbnail. Then Richard took it, and with the aid of a rusty button-hook whichhe happened to have in his pocket, having found it on the street thatmorning, he pushed the plate entirely back. 

"There's something white inside!" he exclaimed. Instantly two heads bentover with his in an attempt to see, for Captain Kidd's shaggy hair wasside by side with Georgina's curls, his niriosity as great as hers. 

"Whatever's in there has been there an awful long time, " said Richard ashe poked at the contents with his button-hook, "for Uncle Darcy said therifle's never been used since it was brought back to him. "

"And it's ten years come Michaelmas since Emmett was drowned, " saidGeorgina, again quoting the old net-mender. 

The piece of paper which they finally succeeded in drawing out had beenfolded many times and crumpled into a flat wad. Evidently the message onit had been scrawled hastily in pencil by someone little used to letterwriting. It was written in an odd hand, and the united efforts of the twolittle readers could decipher only parts of it. 

"I can read any kind of plain writing like they do in school, " saidRichard, "but not this sharp-cornered kind where the m's and u's arealike, and all the tails are pointed. "

Slowly they puzzled out parts of it, halting long over some of theundecipherable words, but a few words here and there were all they couldrecognize. There were long stretches that had no meaning whatever forthem. This much, however, they managed to spell out:

"Dan never took the money. . . . I did it. . . . He went away because he knew Idid it and wouldn't tell. . . . Sorry. . . . Can't stand it any longer. . . . Putan end to it all. . . . "

It was signed "Emmett Potter. "

The two children looked at each other with puzzled eyes until intoGeorgina's came a sudden and startled understanding. Snatching up thepaper she almost fell out of the swing and ran towards the housescreaming:

"Uncle Darcy! Uncle Darcy! Look what we've found. "

She tripped over a piece of loose carpet spread just inside the frontdoor as a rug and fell full length, but too excited to know that she hadskinned her elbow she scrambled up, still calling:

"Uncle Darcy, _Dan never took the money. It was Emmett Potter. He saidso himself!"_

Chapter XII

A Hard Promise

A dozen times in Georgina's day-dreaming she had imagined this scene. Shehad run to Uncle Darcy with the proof of Dan's innocence, heard his gladcry, seen his face fairly transfigured as he read the confession aloud. Now it was actually happening before her very eyes, but where was thescene of heavenly gladness that should have followed?

Belle, startled even more than he by Georgina's outcry, and quicker toact, read the message over his shoulder, recognized the handwriting andgrasped the full significance of the situation before he reached the nameat the end. For ten years three little notes in that same peculiar handhad lain in her box of keepsakes. There was no mistaking that signature. She had read it and cried over it so many times that now as it suddenlyconfronted her with its familiar twists and angles it was as startling asif Emmett's voice had called to her. 

As Uncle Darcy looked up from the second reading, with a falteringexclamation of thanksgiving, she snatched the paper from his shakinghands and tore it in two. Then crumpling the pieces and flinging themfrom her, she seized him by the wrists. 

"No, you're _not_ going to tell the whole world, " she cried wildly, answering the announcement he made with the tears raining down hischeeks. "You're not going to tell anybody! Think of me! Think of FatherPotter!"

She almost screamed her demand. He could hardly believe it was Belle, this frenzied girl, who, heretofore, had seemed the gentlest of souls. Helooked at her in a dazed way, so overwhelmed by the discovery that hadjust been made, that he failed to comprehend the reason for her whiteface and agonized eyes, till she threw up her arms crying:

_"Emmett_ a thief! God in heaven! It'll kill me!"

It was the sight of Georgina's shocked face with Richard's at the door, that made things clear to the old man. He waved them away, with handswhich shook as if he had the palsy. 

"Go on out, children, for a little while, " he said gently, and closed thedoor in their faces. 

Slowly they retreated to the swing, Georgina clasping the skinned elbowwhich had begun to smart. She climbed into one seat of the swing andRichard and Captain Kidd took the other. As they swung back and forth shedemanded in a whisper:

"Why is it that grown people always shut children out of their secrets?Seems as if we have a right to know what's the matter when _we_found the paper. "

Richard made no answer, for just then the sound of Belle's crying cameout to them. The windows of the cottage were all open and the grass plotbetween the windows and the swing being a narrow one the closed door wasof little avail. It was very still there in the shady dooryard, so stillthat they could hear old Yellownose purr, asleep on the cushion in thewooden arm-chair beside the swing. The broken sentences between the sobswere plainly audible. It seemed so terrible to hear a grown person cry, that Georgina felt as she did that morning long ago, when old Jeremy'steeth flew into the fire. Her confidence was shaken in the world. Shefelt there could be no abiding happiness in anything. 

"She's begging him not to tell, " whispered Richard. 

"But I owe it to Danny, " they heard Uncle Darcy say. And then, "Whyshould I spare Emmett's father? Emmett never spared me, he never sparedDanny. "

An indistinct murmur as if Belle's answer was muffled in herhandkerchief, then Uncle Darcy's voice again:

"It isn't fair that the town should go on counting him a hero and brandmy boy as a coward, when it's Emmett who was the coward as well as thethief. "

Again Belle's voice in a quick cry of pain, as sharp as if she had beenstruck. Then the sound of another door shutting, and when the voicesbegan again it was evident they had withdrawn into the kitchen. 

"They don't want Aunt Elspeth to hear, " said Georgina. 

"What's it all about?" asked Richard, much mystified. 

Georgina told him all that she knew herself, gathered from the scraps shehad heard the day of Cousin Mehitable's visit, and from various sourcessince; told him in a half whisper stopping now and then when somefragment of a sentence floated out to them from the kitchen; foroccasional words still continued to reach them through the windows in therear, when the voices rose at intervals to a higher pitch. 

What passed behind those closed doors the children never knew. They feltrather than understood what was happening. Belle's pleading was beginningto be effectual, and the old man was rising to the same heights of self-sacrifice which Dan had reached, when he slipped away from home with thetaint of his friend's disgrace upon him in order to save that friend. 

That some soul tragedy had been enacted m that little room the childrenfelt vaguely when Belle came out after a while. Her eyes were red andswollen and her face drawn and pinched looking. She did not glance intheir direction, but stood with her face averted and hand on the gate-latch while Uncle Darcy stopped beside the swing. 

"Children, " he said solemnly, "I want you to promise me never to speak toanyone about finding that note in the old rifle till I give youpermission. Will you do this for me, just because I ask it, even if Ican't tell you why?"

"Mustn't I even tell Barby?" asked Georgina, anxiously. 

He hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Belle, then answered:

"No, not even your mother, till I tell you that you can. Now you see whata very important secret it is. Can _you_ keep it, son? Will youpromise me too?"

He turned to Richard with the question. With a finger under the boy'schin he tipped up his face and looked into it searchingly. The serious, brown eyes looked back into his, honest and unflinching. 

"Yes, I promise, " he answered. "Honor bright I'll not tell. "

The old man turned to the waiting figure at the gate. 

"It's all right, Belle. You needn't worry about it any more. You cantrust us. "

She made no answer, but looking as if she had aged years in the last halfhour, she passed through the gate and into the sandy court, moving slowlyacross it towards the street beyond. 

With a long-drawn sigh the old man sank down on the door-step and buriedhis face in his hands. They were still shaking as if he had the palsy. For some time the children sat in embarrassed silence, thinking everymoment that he would look up and say something. They wanted to go, butwaited for him to make some movement. He seemed to have forgotten theywere there. Finally a clock inside the cottage began striking five. Itbroke the spell which bound them. 

"Let's go, " whispered Richard. 

"All right, " was the answer, also whispered. "Wait till I take the shoveland can lid back to the kitchen. "

"I'll take 'em, " he offered. "I want to get a drink, anyhow. "

Stealthily, as if playing Indian, they stepped out of the swing andtiptoed through the grass around the corner of the house. Even the dogwent noiselessly, instead of frisking and barking as he usually did whenstarting anywhere. Their return was equally stealthy. As they slippedthrough the gate Georgina looked back at the old man. He was stillsitting on the step, his face in his hands, as if he were bowed down bysome weight too heavy for his shoulders to bear. 

The weary hopelessness of his attitude made her want to run back andthrow her arms around his neck, but she did not dare. Trouble as great asthat seemed to raise a wall around itself. It could not be comforted by acaress. The only thing to do was to slip past and not look. 

Richard shared the same awe, for he went away leaving the rifle lying inthe grass. Instinctively he felt that it ought not to be played with now. It was the rifle which had changed everything. 

Chapter XIII

Lost and Found at the Liniment Wagon

With Mrs. Triplett back in bed again on account of the rheumatism whichcrippled her, and Belle going about white of face and sick of soul, homeheld little cheer for Georgina. But with Mrs. Triplett averse to companyof any kind, and Belle anxious to be alone with her misery, there wasnothing to hinder Georgina from seeking cheer elsewhere and she sought itearly and late. 

She had spent her birthday dollar in imagination many times before shetook her check to the bank to have it cashed. With Richard to lend hercourage, and Manuel, Joseph and Rosa trailing after by specialinvitation, she walked in and asked for Mr. Gates. That is the way Barbyalways did, and as far as Georgina knew he was the only one to apply tofor money. 

The paying teller hesitated a moment about summoning the president of thebank from his private office at the behest of so small a child, so smallthat even on tiptoe her eyes could barely peer into the window of hiscage. But they were entreating eyes, so big and brown and sure of theirappeal that he decided to do their bidding. 

Just as he turned to knock at the door behind him it opened, and Mr. Gates came out with the man with whom he had been closeted in privateconference. It was Richard's Cousin James. The children did not see him, however, for he stopped at one of the high desks inside to look at somepapers which one of the clerks spread out before him. 

"Oh, it's my little friend, Georgina, " said Mr. Gates, smiling inresponse to the beaming smile she gave him. "Well, what can I do for you, my dear?"

"Cash my check, please, " she said, pushing the slip of paper towards himwith as grand an air as if it had been for a million dollars instead ofone, "and all in nickels, please. "

He glanced at the name she had written painstakingly across the back. 

"Well, Miss Huntingdon, " he exclaimed gravely, although there was atwinkle in his eyes, "if all lady customers were as businesslike inendorsing their checks and in knowing what they want, we bankers would bespared a lot of trouble. "

It was the first time that Georgina had ever been called Miss Huntingdon, and knowing he said it to tease her, it embarrassed her to the point ofmaking her stammer, when he asked her most unexpectedly while picking outtwenty shining new nickels to stuff into the little red purse:

"All of these going to buy tracts for the missionaries to take to thelittle heathen?"

"No, they're all going to--to----"

She didn't like to say for soda water and chewing gum and the movies, andhesitated till a substitute word occurred to her. 

"They're all going to go for buying good times. It's for a sort of a clubwe made up this morning, Richard and me. "

"May I ask the name of the club?"

Georgina glanced around. No other customer happened to be in the bank atthe moment and Richard had wandered out to the street to wait for her. Sotiptoeing a little higher she said in a low tone as if imparting asecret:

"It's the _Rainbow_ Club. We pretend that everytime we make anybodyhappy we've made a little rainbow in the world. "

"Well, bless your heart, " was the appreciative answer. "You've alreadymade one in here. You do that every time you come around. "

Then he looked thoughtfully at her over his spectacles. 

"Would you take an old fellow like me into your club?"

Georgina considered a moment, first stealing a glance at him to see if hewere in earnest or still trying to tease. He seemed quite serious so sheanswered:

"If you really _want_ to belong. Anybody with a bank full of moneyought to be able to make happy times for the whole town. "

"Any dues to pay? What are the rules and what are the duties of amember?"

Again Georgina was embarrassed. He seemed to expect so much more than shehad to offer. She swung the red purse around nervously as she answered:

"I guess you won't think it's much of a club. There's nothing to it butjust its name, and all we do is just to go around making what it says. "

"Count me as Member number Three, " said Mr. Gates gravely. "I'm proud tojoin you. Shake hands on it. I'll try to be a credit to the organization, and I hope you'll drop around once in a while and let me know how it'sgetting along. "

The beaming smile with which Georgina shook hands came back to him allmorning at intervals. 

Cousin James Milford, who had been an interested listener, followed herout of the bank presently and as he drove his machine slowly past thedrug-store he saw the five children draining their glasses at the soda-water fountain. He stopped, thinking to invite Richard and Georgina to goto Truro with him. It never would have occurred to him to give the threelittle Portuguese children a ride also had he not overheard thatconversation in the bank. 

"Well, why not?" he asked himself, smiling inwardly. "It might as well berainbows for the crowd while I'm about it. "

So for the first time in their lives Manuel and Joseph and Rosa rode inone of the "honk wagons" which heretofore they had known only assomething to be dodged when one walked abroad. Judging by the blissfulgrins which took permanent lodging on their dirty faces, Cousin James waseligible to the highest position the new club could bestow, if ever heshould apply for membership. 

If Mrs. Triplett had been downstairs that evening, none of the birthdaynickels would have found their way through the ticket window of themoving picture show. She supposed that Georgina was reading as usualbeside the evening lamp, or was out on the front porch talking to Belle. But Belle, not caring to talk to anyone, had given instant consent whenGeorgina, who wanted to go to the show, having seen wonderful postersadvertising it, suggested that Mrs. Fayal would take her in charge. Shedid not add that she had already seen Mrs. Fayal and promised to providetickets for her and the children in case she could get permission fromhome. Belle did not seem interested in hearing such things, so Georginahurried off lest something might happen to interfere before she wasbeyond the reach of summoning voices. 

On the return from Truro she had asked to be put out at the Fayalcottage, having it in mind to make some such arrangement. Manuel had seenone show, but Joseph and Rosa had never so much as had their heads insideof one. She found Mrs. Fayal glooming over a wash-tub, not because sheobjected to washing for the summer people. She was used to that, havingdone it six days out of seven every summer since she had married JoeFayal. What she was glooming over was that Joe was home from a week'sfishing trip with his share of the money for the biggest catch of theseason, and not a dime of it had she seen. It had all gone into thepocket of an itinerant vendor, and Joe was lying in a sodden stupor outunder the grape arbor at the side of the cottage. 

Georgina started to back away when she found the state of affairs. Shedid not suppose Mrs. Fayal would have a mind for merry-making under thecircumstances. But, indeed, Mrs. Fayal did. 

"All the more reason that I should go off and forget my troubles and havea good time for a while, " she said decidedly. Georgina recognized thespirit if not the words of her own "line to live by. " Mrs. Fayal couldbear up and steer onward with a joyful heart any time she had the priceof admission to a movie in her pocket. So feeling that as a member of thenew club she could not have a better opportunity to make good its name, Georgina promised the tickets for the family even if she could not goherself. She would send them by Richard if not allowed to take them inperson. 

It was still light when Georgina fared forth at the end of the longsummer day. Richard joined her at the foot of the Green Stairs with theprice of his own ticket in his pocket, and Captain Kidd tagging at hisheels. 

"They won't let the dog into the show, " Georgina reminded him. 

"That's so, and he might get into a fight or run over if I left himoutside, " Richard answered. "B'leeve I'll shut him up in the garage. "

This he did, fastening the door securely, and returning in time to seethe rest of the party turning the corner, and coming towards the GreenStairs. 

Mrs. Fayal, after her long day over the wash-tub, was resplendent inlavender shirt-waist, blue serge skirt and white tennis shoes, with longgold ear-rings dangling half-way to her shoulders. Manuel and Joseph werebarefooted as usual, and in over-alls as usual, but their lack of galaattire was made up for by Rosa's. No wax doll was ever more daintily andlacily dressed. Georgina looked at her in surprise, wishing Tippy couldsee her now. Rosa in her white dress and slippers and with her faceclean, was a little beauty. 

Mrs. Fayal made a delightful chaperon. She was just as ready as anyone inher train to stop in front of shop windows, to straggle slowly down themiddle of the street, or to thrust her hand into Richard's bag of peanutswhenever he passed it around. Cracking shells and munching the nuts, theystrolled along with a sense of freedom which thrilled Georgina to thecore. She had never felt it before. She had just bought five tickets andRichard his one, and they were about to pass in although Mrs. Fayal saidit was early yet, when a deep voice roaring through the crowd attractedtheir attention. It was as sonorous as a megaphone. 

"Walk up, ladies and gentlemen. See the wild-cat, _Texas Tim, _brought from the banks of the Brazos. "

"Let's go, " said Richard and Georgina in the same breath. Mrs. Fayal, outfor a good time and to see all that was to be seen, bobbed her longearrings in gracious assent, and headed the procession, in order that herample form might make an entering wedge for the others, as she elbowedher way through the crowd gathered at the street end of Railroad wharf. 

It clustered thickest around a wagon in which stood a broad-shoulderedman, mounted on a chair. He wore a cow-boy hat. A flaming torch set upbeside the wagon lighted a cage in one end of it, in which crouched awild-cat bewildered by the light and the bedlam of noisy, pushing humanbeings. The children could not see the animal at first, but pushed nearerthe wagon to hear what the man was saying. He held up a bottle and shookit over the heads of the people. 

"Here's your marvelous rheumatism remedy, " he cried, "made from the fatof wild-cats. Warranted to cure every kind of ache, sprain and miseryknown to man. Only fifty cents, ladies and gentlemen, sure cure or yourmoney back. Anybody here with an ache or a pain?"

The children pushed closer. Richard, feeling the effect of the gun-powderhe had eaten, turned to Georgina. 

"I dare you to climb up and touch the end of the wild-cat's tail. "

Georgina stood on tiptoe, then dodged under someone's elbow for a nearerview. The end of the tail protruded from between the bars of the cage, ineasy reach if one were on the wagon, but those furtive eyes keeping watchabove it were savage in their gleaming. Then she, too, remembered thegun-powder. 

"I'll do it if you will. "

Before Richard could put the gun-powder to the test the man reached downfor a guitar leaning against his chair, and with a twanging of chordswhich made the shifting people on the outskirts stand still to see whatwould happen next, he began to sing a song that had been popular in hisyouth. Or, rather, it was a parody of the song. Georgina recognized it asone that she had heard Uncle Darcy sing, and even Tippy hummed itsometimes when she was sewing. It was, "When you and I were young, Maggie. "

 "They say we are aged and gray, Maggie, As spray by the white breakers flung, But the liniment keeps us as spry, Maggie, As when you and I were young. "

Several people laughed and passed on when the song was done, but thegreater part of the crowd stayed, hoping to hear another, for the voicewas a powerful one and fairly sweet. 

"Anybody here with any aches or pains?" he called again. "If so, stepthis way, please, and let me make a simple demonstration of how quicklythis magic oil will cure you. "

There was a commotion near the wagon, and a man pushed his way throughand climbed up on the wheel. He offered a stiff wrist for treatment. Thevendor tipped up the bottle and poured out some pungent volatile oil fromthe bottle, the odor of which was far-reaching. He rubbed the wristbriskly for a moment, then gave it a slap saying, "Now see what you cando with it, my friend. "

The patient scowled at it, twisting his arm in every possible directionas if skeptical of any help from such a source, but gradually letting alook of pleased surprise spread across his face. The crowd watched inamusement, and nearly everybody laughed when the patient finallyannounced in a loud voice that he was cured, that it was nothing short ofa miracle and that he'd buy half a dozen bottles of that witch stuff totake home to his friends. 

The vendor began his speech-making again, calling attention to the curethey had just witnessed, and urging others to follow. As the subject ofthe cure stepped down from the wheel Richard sprang up in his place. Georgina, pressing closer, saw him lean over the side of the wagon andboldly take hold of the end of the beast's tail. 

"There. I did it, " he announced. "Now it's your turn. "

Georgina gave one glance at the wild-cat's eyes and drew back. Theyseemed to glare directly at her. She wondered how strong the bars were, and if they would hold the beast in case it rose up in a rage and sprangat her. But Richard was waiting, and she clambered up on the hub of thewheel. Luckily its owner was turned towards the other side at that momentor she might have been ordered down. 

"There! I did it, too, " she announced an instant later. "Now you can'tcrow over me. "

She was about to step down when she saw in the other end of the wagon, something she had not been able to see from her place on the ground underthe elbows of the crowd. In a low rocking chair sat an elderly woman, oddly out of place in this traveling medicine show as far as appearancewas concerned. She had a calm, motherly face, gray hair combed smoothlydown over her ears, a plain old-fashioned gray dress and an air of beingperfectly at home. It was the serene, unconscious manner one would havein sitting on the door-step at home. She did not seem to belong in themidst of this seething curious mass, or to realize that she was a part ofthe show. She smiled now at Georgina in such a friendly way that Georginasmiled back and continued to stand on the wheel. She hoped that this niceold lady would say something about the virtues of the medicine, for itcured two more people, even while she looked, and if she could be sure itdid all that was claimed for it she would spend all the rest of herbirthday money in buying a bottle for Tippy. 

The placid old lady said nothing, but her reassuring presence finallymade Georgina decide to buy the bottle, and she emptied the red purse ofeverything except the tickets. Then the man embarrassed her until hercheeks flamed. 

"That's right, little girl. Carry it to the dear sufferer at home whowill bless you for your kindness. Anybody else here who will imitate thischild's generous act? If you haven't any pain yourself, show yourgratitude by thinking of someone less fortunate than you. "

Georgina felt that her blushes were burning her up at thus being made thecentre of public notice. She almost fell off the wheel in her haste toget down, and in doing so stumbled over a dog which suddenly emerged fromunder the wagon at that instant. 

"Why, it's Captain Kidd!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "How ever did heget here?"

"Must have scratched under the door and trailed us, " answered Richard. "Go on home, sir!" he commanded, sternly, stamping his foot. "You knowthey won't let you into the show with us, and you'll get into trouble ifyou stay downtown alone. Go on home I say. "

With drooping tail and a look so reproachful that it was fairly human, Captain Kidd slunk away, starting mournfully homeward. He sneaked back ina few minutes, however, and trailed his party as far as the door of thetheatre. Somebody kicked at him and he fled down the street again, retracing the trail that had led him to the wagon. 

A long time after when the performance was nearly over he went swingingup the beach with something in his mouth which he had picked up from nearthe end of the wagon. It was a tobacco pouch of soft gray leather thathad never been used for tobacco. There was something hard and roundinside which felt like a bone. At the top of the Green Stairs he lay downand mouthed it a while, tugging at it with his sharp teeth; but after hehad mumbled and gnawed it for some time without bringing the bone anynearer the surface, he grew tired of his newfound plaything. Dropping itin the grass, he betook himself to the door-mat on the front porch, toawait his master's return. 

Chapter XIV

Buried Treasure

When Georgina tiptoed up the walk to the front porch where Belle satwaiting for her in the moonlight, Tippy called down that she wasn'tasleep, and they needn't stay out there on her account, whispering. Itdid not seem an auspicious time to present the bottle of liniment, but toGeorgina's surprise Tippy seemed glad to try the new remedy. The long-continued pain which refused to yield to treatment made her willing totry anything which promised relief. 

It was vile-smelling stuff, so pungent that whenever the cork was takenout of the bottle the whole house knew it, but it burned with soothingfire and Tippy rose up and called it blessed before the next day wasover. Before that happened, however, Georgina took advantage of Belle'seasy rule to leave home as soon as her little morning tasks were done. Strolling down the board-walk with many stops she came at last to thefoot of the Green Stairs. Richard sat on the top step, tugging at aknotted string. 

"Come on up, " he called. "See what I've taken away from Captain Kidd. Hewas just starting to bury it. Looks like a tobacco pouch, but I haven'tgot it untied yet. He made the string all wet, gnawing on it. "

Georgina climbed to the top of the steps and sat down beside him, watching in deep and silent interest. When the string finally gave wayshe offered her lap to receive the contents of the pouch. Two five-dollargold pieces rolled out first, then a handful of small change, a blackring evidently whittled out of a rubber button and lastly a watch-fobornament. It was a little compass, set in something which looked like anut. 

"I believe that's a buckeye, " said Richard. He examined it carefully onall sides, then called excitedly:

"Aw, look here! See those letters scratched on the side--'D. D. '? Thatstands for my name, Dare-devil Dick. I'm going to keep it. "

"That's the cunningest thing I ever saw, " declared Georgina in a toneboth admiring and envious, which plainly showed that she wished theinitials were such as could be claimed by a Gory George. Then she pickedup the pouch and thrust in her hand. Something rustled. It was a letter. Evidently it had been forwarded many times, for the envelope was entirelycriss-crossed with names that had been written and blotted out that newones might be added. All they could make out was "Mrs. Henry"--"Texas"and "Mass. "

"I'd like to have that stamp for my album, " said Richard. "It's foreign. Seems to me I've got one that looks something like it, but I'm not sure. Maybe the letter will tell who the pouch belongs to. "

"But we can't read other people's letters, " objected Georgina. 

"Well, who wants to? It won't be reading it just to look at the head andtail, will it?"

"No, " admitted Georgina, hesitatingly. "Though it does seem likepeeking. "

"Well, if you lost something wouldn't you rather whoever found it shouldpeek and find out it was yours, than to have it stay lost forever?"

"Yes, I s'pose so. "

"Let's look, then. "

Two heads bent over the sheet spread out on Richard's knee. They readslowly in unison, "Dear friend, " then turned over the paper and soughtthe last line. "Your grateful friend Dave. "

"We don't know any more now than we did before, " said Georgina, virtuously folding up the letter and slipping it back into the envelope. 

"Let's take it to Uncle Darcy. Then he'll let us go along and ring thebell when he calls, 'Found. '"

Richard had two objections to this. "Who'd pay him for doing it? Besides, it's gold money, and anybody who loses that much would advertise for itin the papers. Let's keep it till this week's papers come out, and thenwe'll have the fun of taking it to the person who lost it. "

"It wouldn't be safe for us to keep it, " was Georgina's next objection. "It's gold money and burglars might find out we had it. "

"Then I'll tell you"--Richard's face shone as he made the suggestion--"Let's _bury_ it. That will keep it safe till we can find the owner, and when we dig it up we can play it's pirate gold and it'll be likefinding real treasure. "

"Lets!" agreed Georgina. "We can keep out something, a nickel or a dime, and when we go to dig up the pouch we can throw it over toward the placewhere we buried the bag and say, 'Brother, go find your brother, ' the wayTom Sawyer did. Then we'll be certain to hit the spot. "

Richard picked up the compass, and rubbed the polished sides of the nutin which it was set. 

"I'll keep this out instead of a nickel. I wonder what the fellow's namewas that this D. D. Stands for?"

Half an hour later two bloody-minded sea-robbers slipped through the backgate of the Milford place and took their stealthy way out into the dunes. No fierce mustachios or hoop ear-rings marked them on this occasion asthe Dread Destroyer or the Menace of the Main. The time did not seemfavorable for donning their real costumes. So one went disguised as adainty maiden in a short pink frock and long brown curls, and the otheras a sturdy boy in a grass-stained linen suit with a hole in the knee ofhis stocking. But their speech would have betrayed their evil businesshad anyone been in earshot of it. One would have thought it was

 "Wild Roger come again. He spoke of forays and of frays upon the Spanish Main. _"

Having real gold to bury made the whole affair seem a real adventure. They were recounting to each other as they dug, the bloody fight it hadtaken to secure this lot of treasure. 

Down in a hollow where the surrounding sandridges sheltered them fromview, they crouched over a small basket they had brought with them andperformed certain ceremonies. First the pouch was wrapped in many sheetsof tin foil, which Richard had been long in collecting from varioustobacco-loving friends. When that was done it flashed in the sun like anugget of wrinkled silver. This was stuffed into a baking-powder can fromwhich the label had been carefully scraped, and on whose lid had beenscratched with a nail, the names Georgina Huntingdon and RichardMoreland, with the date. 

"We'd better put our everyday names on it instead of our pirate names, "Gory George suggested. "For if anything should happen that some otherpirate dug it up first they wouldn't know who the Dread Destroyer and theMenace of the Main were. "

Lastly, from the basket was taken the end of a wax candle, severalmatches and a stick of red sealing-wax, borrowed from Cousin James' desk. Holding the end of the sealing-wax over the lighted candle until it wassoft and dripping, Richard daubed it around the edge of the can lid, ashe had seen the man in the express office seal packages. He had alwayslonged to try it himself. There was something peculiarly pleasing in thesmell of melted sealing-wax. Georgina found it equally alluring. She tookthe stick away from him when it was about half used, and finished it. 

"There won't be any to put back in Cousin James' desk if you keep onusing it, " he warned her. 

"I'm not using any more than you did, " she answered, and calmly proceededto smear on the remainder. "If you had let me seal with the first end ofthe stick, you'd have had all the last end to save. "

All this time Captain Kidd sat close beside them, an interestedspectator, but as they began digging the hole he rushed towards it andpawed violently at each shovelful of sand thrown out. 

"Aw, let him help!" Richard exclaimed when Georgina ordered him to stop. "He ought to have a part in it because he found the pouch and wasstarting to bury it his own self when I took it away from him and spoiledhis fun. "

Georgina saw the justice of the claim and allowed Captain Kidd to join inas he pleased, but no sooner did they stop digging to give him a chancethan he stopped also. 

"Rats!" called Richard in a shrill whisper. 

At that familiar word the dog began digging so frantically that the sandflew in every direction. Each time he paused for breath Richard called"Rats" again. It doubled the interest for both children to have the dogtake such frantic and earnest part in their game. 

When the hole was pronounced deep enough the can was dropped in, the sandshoveled over it and tramped down, and a marker made. A long, forkedstick, broken from a bayberry bush, was run into the ground so that onlythe fork of it was visible. Then at twenty paces from the stick, Richardstepping them off in four directions, consulting the little compass in sodoing, Georgina placed the markers, four sections of a broken crockrescued from the ash-barrel and brought down in the basket for thatespecial purpose. 

"We'll let it stay buried for a week, " said Richard when all was done. "Unless somebody claims it sooner. If they don't come in a week, thenwe'll know they're never coming, and the gold will be ours. "

Chapter XV

A Narrow Escape

Mr. Milford was stretched out in a hammock on the front porch of thebungalow when the children came back from the dunes with their emptybasket. They could not see him as they climbed up the terrace, the porchbeing high above them and draped with vines; and he deep in a new bookwas only vaguely conscious of approaching voices. 

They were discussing the "Rescues of Rosalind, " the play they had seenthe night before on the films. Their shrill, eager tones would haveattracted the attention of anyone less absorbed than Mr. Milford. 

"I'll bet you couldn't, " Georgina was saying. "If you were gagged andbound the way Rosalind was, you _couldn't_ get loose, no matter howyou squirmed and twisted. "

"Come back in the garage and try me, " Richard retorted. "I'll prove it toyou that I can. "

"_Always_ an automobile dashes up and there's a chase. It's beenthat way in every movie I ever saw, " announced Georgina with the air ofone who has attended nightly through many seasons. 

"I can do that part all right, " declared Richard. "I can run anautomobile. "

There was no disputing that fact, no matter how contradictory Georgina'sframe of mind. Only the day before she had seen him take the wheel andrun the car for three miles under the direction of Cousin James, whenthey came to a level stretch of road. 

"Yes, but you know your Cousin James said you were never to do it unlesshe was along himself. You wasn't to dare to touch it when you were outwith only the chauffeur. "

"He wouldn't care if we got in and didn't start anything but the engine, "said Richard. "Climb in and play that I'm running away with you. With themotor chugging away and shaking the machine it'll seem as if we're reallygoing. "

By this time they were inside the garage, with the doors closed behindthem. 

"Now you get in and keep looking back the way Rosalind did to see hownear they are to catching us. "

Instantly Georgina threw herself into the spirit of the game. Climbinginto the back seat she assumed the pose of the kidnapped bride whoseadventures had thrilled them the night before. 

"Play my white veil is floating out in the wind, " she commanded, "and I'mlooking back and waving to my husband to come faster and take me awayfrom the dreadful villain who is going to kill me for my jewels. I wishthis car was out of doors instead of in this dark garage. When I lookback I look bang against the closed door every time, aid I can't make itseem as if I was seeing far down the road. "

"Play it's night, " suggested Richard. He had put on a pair of goggles andwas making a great pretence of getting ready to start. Georgina, leaningout as Rosalind had done, waved her lily hand in frantic beckonings forher rescuers to follow faster. The motor chugged harder and harder. Thecar shook violently. 

To the vivid imaginations of the passengers, the chase was as exciting asif the automobile were really plunging down the road instead of throbbingsteadily in one spot in the dim garage. The gas rolling up from somewherein the back made it wonderfully realistic. But out on the open road thesmell of burning gasoline would not have been so overpowering. Inside thelittle box-like garage it began to close in on them and settle down likea dense fog. 

Georgina coughed and Richard looked back apprehensively, feeling thatsomething was wrong, and if that queer smoke didn't stop pouring out insuch a thick cloud he'd have to shut off the engine or do something. Another moment passed and he leaned forward, fumbling for the key, but hecouldn't find it. He had grown queerly confused and light-headed. Hecouldn't make his fingers move where he wanted them to go. 

He looked back at Georgina. She wasn't waving her hands any more. She waslying limply back on the seat as if too tired to play any longer. And athousand miles away--at least it sounded that far--above the terrificnoise the motor was making, he heard Captain Kidd barking. They wereshort, excited barks, so thin and queer, almost as thin and queer as ifhe were barking with the voice of a mosquito instead of his own. 

And then--Richard heard nothing more, not even the noise of the motor. His hand dropped from the wheel, and he began slipping down, down fromthe seat to the floor of the car, white and limp, overcome like Georgina, by the fumes of the poisonous gas rolling up from the carburetor. 

Mr. Milford, up in the hammock, had been vaguely conscious for severalminutes of unusual sounds somewhere in the neighborhood, but it was notuntil he reached the end of the chapter that he took any intelligentnotice. Then he looked up thinking somebody's machine was making aterrible fuss somewhere near. But it wasn't that sound which made him situp in the hammock. It was Captain Kidd's frantic barking and yelping andwhining as if something terrible was happening to him. 

Standing up to stretch himself, then walking to the corner of the porch, Mr. Milford looked out. He could see the little terrier alternatelyscratching on the garage door and making frantic efforts to dig under it. Evidently he felt left out and was trying desperately to join his littleplaymates, or else he felt that something was wrong inside. 

Then it came to Mr. Milford in a flash that something was wrong inside. Nobody ever touched that machine but himself and the chauffeur, and thechauffeur, who was having a day off, was half-way to Yarmouth by thistime. He didn't wait to go down by the steps. With one leap he was overthe railing, crashing through the vines, and running down the terrace tothe garage. 

As he rolled back one of the sliding doors a suffocating burst of gasrushed into his face. He pushed both doors open wide, and with a handover his mouth and nose hurried through the heavily-charged atmosphere toshut off the motor. The fresh air rushing in, began clearing away thefumes, and he seized Georgina and carried her out, thinking she would berevived by the time he was back with Richard. But neither child stirredfrom the grass where he stretched them out. 

As he called for the cook and the housekeeper, there flashed into hismind an account he had read recently in a New York paper, of a man andhis wife who had been asphyxiated in just such a way as this. Nowthoroughly alarmed, he sent the cook running down the Green Stairs tosummon Richard's father from the studio, and the housekeeper to telephonein various directions. Three doctors were there in a miraculously shorttime, but despite all they could do at the end of half an hour bothlittle figures still lay white and motionless. 

Then the pulmotor that had been frantically telephoned for arrived fromthe life-saving station, and just as the man dashed up with that, Mrs. Triplett staggered up the terrace, her knees shaking so that she couldscarcely manage to climb the last few steps. 

Afterwards, the happenings of the day were very hazy in Georgina's mind. She had an indistinct recollection of being lifted in somebody's arms andmoved about, and of feeling very sick and weak. Somebody said soothinglyto somebody who was crying:

"Oh, the worst is over now. They're both beginning to come around. "

Then she was in her own bed and the wild-cat from the banks of the Brazoswas bending over her. At least, she thought it was the wild-cat, becauseshe smelled the liniment as strongly as she did when she climbed up inthe wagon beside it. But when she opened her eyes it was Tippy who wasbending over her, smoothing her curls in a comforting, purry way, but thesmell of liniment still hung in the air. 

Then Georgina remembered something that must have happened before she wascarried home from the bungalow--Captain Kidd squirming out of Tippy'sarms, and Tippy with the tears streaming down her face trying to hold himand hug him as if he had been a person, and the Milford's cook saying:"If it hadn't been for the little beast's barkin' they'd have been deadin a few minutes more. Then there'd have been a double funeral, poorlambs. "

Georgina smiled drowsily now and slipped off to sleep again, but laterwhen she awakened the charm of the cook's phrase aroused her thoroughly, and she lay wondering what "a double funeral" was like. Would it havebeen at her house or Richard's? Would two little white coffins have stoodside by side, or would each have been in its own place, with the twosolemn processions meeting and joining at the foot of the Green Stairs. Maybe they would have put on her tombstone, "None knew her but to loveher. " No, that couldn't be said about her. She'd been wilfullydisobedient too often for that, like the time she played with thePortuguese children on purpose to spite Tippy. She was sorry for thatdisobedience now, for she had discovered that Tippy was fonder of herthan she had supposed. She had proved it by hugging Captain Kidd sogratefully for saving their lives, when she simply _loathed_ dogs. 

Somehow Georgina felt that she was better acquainted with Mrs. Triplettthan she had ever been before, and fonder of her. Lying there in the darkshe made several good resolutions. She was going to be a better girl inthe future. She was going to do kind, lovely things for everybody, sothat if an early tomb should claim her, every heart in town would besaddened by her going. It would be lovely to leave a widespread heartachebehind her. She wished she could live such a life that there wouldn't bea dry eye in the town when it was whispered from house to house thatlittle Georgina Huntingdon was with the angels. 

She pictured Belle's grief, and Uncle Darcy's and Richard's. She hadalready seen Tippy's. But it was a very different thing when she thoughtof Barby. There was no pleasure in imagining Barby's grief. There wassomething too real and sharp in the pain which darted into her own heartat the thought of it. She wanted to put her arms around her mother andward off sorrow and trouble from her and keep all tears away from thosedear eyes. She wanted to grow up and take care of her darling Barby andprotect her from the Tishbite. 

Suddenly it occurred to Georgina that in this escape she had been keptfrom the power of that mysterious evil which had threatened her eversince she called it forth by doing such a wicked thing as to use the"Sacred Book" to work a charm. 

She had been put to bed in the daytime, hence her evening petitions werestill unsaid. Now she pulled the covers over her head and included themall in one fervent appeal:

"And keep on delivering us from the Tishbite, forever and ever, Amen!"

Chapter XVI

What the Storm Did

Next morning nearly everyone in the town was talking about the storm. Belle said what with the booming of the waves against the breakwater andthe wind rattling the shutters, she hadn't slept a wink all night. Itseemed as if every gust would surely take the house off its foundations. 

Old Jeremy reported that it was one of the worst wind-storms ever knownalong the Cape, wild enough to blow all the sand dunes into the sea. They'd had the best shaking up and shifting around that they'd had inyears, he declared. Captain Ames' cranberry bog was buried so deep insand you couldn't see a blossom or a leaf. And there was sand drifted allover the garden. It had whirled clear over the wall, till the bird poolwas half full of it. 

Georgina listened languidly, feeling very comfortable and important withher breakfast brought in to her on a tray. Tippy thought it was toochilly for her in the dining-room where there was no fire. Jeremy hadkindled a cheerful blaze on the living-room hearth and his tales ofdamage done to the shipping and to roofs and chimneys about town, seemedto emphasize her own safety and comfort. The only thing which made thestorm seem a personal affair was the big limb blown off the willow tree. 

Mrs. Triplett and Jeremy could remember a storm years ago which shiftedthe sand until the whole face of the Cape seemed changed. That was beforethe Government planted grass all over it, to bind it together with firmroots. Later when the ring of an axe told that the willow limb was beingchopped in pieces, Georgina begged to be allowed to go outdoors. 

"Let me go out and see the tracks of the storm, " she urged. "I feel allright. I'm all over the gas now. "

But Mrs. Triplett preferred to run no risks. All she said to Georginawas:

"No, after such a close call as you had yesterday you stay right herewhere I can keep an eye on you, and take it quietly for a day or two, "but when she went into the next room Georgina heard her say to Belle:

"There's no knowing how that gas may have affected her heart. "

Georgina made a face at the first speech, but the second one made her liedown languidly on the sofa with her finger on her pulse. She was halfpersuaded that there was something wrong with the way it beat, and wasabout to ask faintly if she couldn't have a little blackberry cordialwith her lunch, when she heard Richard's alley call outside and CaptainKidd's quick bark. 

She started up, forgetting all about the cordial and her pulse, and wasskipping to the front door when Tippy hurried in from the dining-room andreached it first. She had a piece of an old coffee sack in her hand. 

"Here!" she said abruptly to Richard, who was so surprised at the suddenopening of the door that he nearly fell in against her. 

"You catch that dog and hold him while I wipe his feet. I can't have anydirty quadruped like that, tracking up my clean floors. "

Georgina looked at the performance in amazement. Tippy scrubbing away atCaptain Kidd's muddy paws till all four of them were clean, and thenactually letting him come into the house and curl up on the hearth!Tippy, who never touched dogs except with the end of a broom! She couldscarcely believe what her own eyes told her. She and Richard must havehad a "close call, " indeed, closer than either of them realized, to makesuch a wonderful change in Tippy. 

And the change was towards Richard, too. She had never seemed to like himmuch better than his dog. She blamed him for taking the cream bottleswhen they played pirate, and she thought it made little girls boisterousand rude to play with boys, and she wondered at Barby's letting Georginaplay with him. Several times she had done her wondering out loud, so thatGeorgina heard her, and wanted to say things back--shocking things, suchas Rosa said to Joseph. But she never said them. There was always thatold silver porringer, sitting prim and lady-like upon the sideboard. 

Things were different to-day. After the dog's paws were wiped dry Tippyasked Richard how he felt after the accident, and she asked it as if shereally cared and wanted to know. And she brought in a plate of earlysummer apples, the first in the market, and told him to help himself andput some in his pocket. And there was the checker-board if they wanted toplay checkers or dominoes. Her unusual concern for their entertainmentimpressed Georgina more than anything else she could have done with theseriousness of the danger they had been in. She felt very solemn andimportant, and thanked Tippy with a sweet, patient air, befitting one whohas just been brought up from the "valley of the shadow. "

The moment they were alone Richard began breathlessly:

"Say. On the way here I went by that place where we buried the pouch, andwhat do you think? The markers are out of sight and the whole placeitself is buried--just filled up level. What are we going to do aboutit?"

The seriousness of the situation did not impress Georgina until he added, "S'pose the person who lost it comes back for it? Maybe we'd be put inprison. "

"But nobody knows it's buried except you and me. "

Richard scuffed one shoe against the other and looked into the fire. 

"But Aunt Letty says there's no getting around it, 'Be sure your sin willfind you out, ' always. And I'm awfully unlucky that way. Seems to me Inever did anything in my life that I oughtn't to a done, that I didn'tget found out. Aunt Letty has a book that she reads to me sometimes whenI'm going to bed, that proves it. Every story in it proves it. One isabout a traveler who murdered a man, and kept it secret for twenty years. Then he gave it away, talking in his sleep. And one was a feather in aboy's coat pocket. It led to its being found out that he was a chickenthief. There's about forty such stories, and everyone of them prove yoursin is sure to find you out some time before you die, even if you coverit up for years and years. "

"But we didn't do any sin, " protested Georgina. "We just buried a pouchthat the dog found, to keep it safe, and if a big wind came along andcovered it up so we can't find it, that isn't our fault. We didn't makethe wind blow, did we?"

"But there was gold money in that pouch, " insisted Richard, "and itwasn't ours, and maybe the letter was important and we ought to haveturned it over to Dad or Uncle Darcy or the police or somebody. "

Aunt Letty's bedtime efforts to keep Richard's conscience tender were farmore effective than she had dreamed. He was quoting Aunt Letty now. 

"We wouldn't want anybody to do _our_ things that way. " Then athought of his own came to him, "You wouldn't want the police cominground and taking you off to the lockup, would you? I saw 'em take BinneyRogers one time, just because he broke a window that he didn't mean to. He was only shying a rock at a sparrow. There was a cop on each side ofhim a hold of his arm, and Binney's mother and sister were followingalong behind crying and begging them not to take him something awful. Butall they could say didn't do a speck of good. "

The picture carried weight. In spite of her light tone Georgina wasimpressed, but she said defiantly:

"Well, nobody saw us do it. "

"You don't know, " was the gloomy answer. "Somebody might have been up inthe monument with a spy glass, looking down. There's always people upthere spying around, or out on the masts in the harbor, and if somesleuth was put on the trail of that pouch the first thing that wouldhappen would be he'd come across the very person with the glass. Italways happens that way, and I know, because Binney Rogers has readalmost all the detective stories there is, and he said so. "

A feeling of uneasiness began to clutch at Georgina's interior. Richardspoke so knowingly and convincingly that she felt a real need forblackberry cordial. But she said with a defiant little uplift of herchin:

"Well, as long as we didn't mean to do anything wrong, I'm not going toget scared about it. I'm just going to bear up and steer right on, andkeep hoping that everything will turn out all right so hard that itwill. "

Her "line to live by" buoyed her up so successfully for the time being, that Richard, too, felt the cheerful influence of it, and passed to morecheerful subjects. 

"We're going to be in all the papers, " he announced. "A reporter calledup from Boston to ask Cousin James how it happened. There's only been afew cases like ours in the whole United States. Won't you feel funny tosee your name in the paper? Captain Kidd will have his name in, too. Iheard Cousin James say over the telephone that he was the hero of thehour; that if he hadn't given the alarm we wouldn't have been discoveredtill it was too late. "

Richard did not stay long. The finished portrait was to be hung in theArt gallery in the Town Hall that morning and he wanted to be on hand atthe hanging. Later it would be sent to the New York exhibition. 

"Daddy's going to let me go with him when Mr. Locke comes for him on hisyacht. He's going to take me because I sat still and let him get such agood picture. It's the best he's ever done. We'll be gone a week. "

"When are you going?" demanded Georgina. 

"Oh, in a few days, whenever Mr. Locke comes. "

"I hope we can find that pouch first, " she answered. Already she wasbeginning to feel little and forlorn and left behind. "It'll be awfullonesome with you and Barby both gone. "

Tippy came in soon after Richard left and sat down at the secretary. 

"I've been thinking I ought to write to your mother and let her knowabout yesterday's performance before she has a chance to hear it fromoutsiders or the papers. It's a whole week to-day since she left. "

"A week, " echoed Georgina. "Is that all? It seems a month at least. It'sbeen so long. "

Mrs. Triplett tossed her a calendar from the desk. 

"Count it up for yourself, " she said. "She left two days before yourbirthday and this is the Wednesday after. "

While Mrs. Triplett began her letter Georgina studied the calendar, putting her finger on a date as she recalled the various happenings ofit. Each day had been long and full. That one afternoon when she andRichard found the paper in the rifle seemed an age in itself. It seemedmonths since they had promised Belle and Uncle Darcy to keep the secret. 

She glanced up, about to say so, then bit her tongue, startled at havingso nearly betrayed the fact of their having a secret. Then the thoughtcame to her that Emmett's sin had found him out in as strange a way asthat of the man who talked in his sleep or the chicken thief to whom thefeather clung. It was one more proof added to the forty in Aunt Letty'sbook. Richard's positiveness made a deeper impression on her than sheliked to acknowledge. She shut her eyes a moment, squinting them up sotight that her eyelids wrinkled, and hoped as hard as she could hope thateverything would turn out all right. 

"What on earth is the matter with you, child?" exclaimed Tippy, lookingup from her letter in time to catch Georgina with her face thus screwedinto wrinkles. 

Georgina opened her eyes with a start. 

"Nothing, " was the embarrassed answer. "I was just thinking. "

Chapter XVII

In the Keeping of the Dunes

Scarcely had Georgina convinced herself by the calendar that it had beenonly one short week since Barby went away instead of the endlessly longtime it seemed, than a letter was brought in to her. 

"My Dear Little Rainbow-maker, " it began. 

"You are surely a prism your own self, for you have made a blessed brightspot in the world for me, ever since you came into it. I read your letterto papa, telling all about your birthday and the prism Uncle Darcy gaveyou. It cheered him up wonderfully. I was so proud of you when he said itwas a fine letter, and that he'd have to engage you as a specialcorrespondent on his paper some day. 

"At first the doctors thought his sight was entirely destroyed, by theflying glass of the broken windshield, but now they are beginning to hopethat one eye at least may be saved, and possibly the other. Papa is verydoubtful about it himself, and gets very despondent at times. He had justbeen having an especially blue morning when your letter was brought in, and he said, when I read it:

"'That _is_ a good line to live by, daughter, ' and he had me get outhis volume of Milton and read the whole sonnet that the line is takenfrom. The fact that Milton was blind when he wrote it made it speciallyinteresting to him. 

"He and mamma both need me sorely now for a little while, Baby dear, andif you can keep busy and happy without me I'll stay away a couple ofweeks longer and help take him home to Kentucky, but I can't be contentedto stay unless you send me a postal every day. If nothing more is on itthan your name, written by your own little fingers, it will put a rainbowaround my troubles and help me to be contented away from you. "

Georgina spent the rest of the morning answering it. She had a feelingthat she must make up for her father's neglect as a correspondent, bywriting often herself. Maybe the family at Grandfather Shirley's wouldn'tnotice that there was never any letter with a Chinese stamp on it, addressed in a man's big hand in Barby's pile of mail, if there wereothers for her to smile over. 

It had been four months since the last one came. Georgina had keptcareful count, although she had not betrayed her interest except in thewistful way she watched Barby when the postman came. It made her throatache to see that little shadow of disappointment creep into Barby'slovely gray eyes and then see her turn away with her lips pressedtogether tight for a moment before she began to hum or speak brightlyabout something else. No Chinese letter had come in her absence to beforwarded. 

Georgina wished her father could know how very much Barby cared abouthearing from him. Maybe if his attention were called to it he would writeoftener. If the editor of a big newspaper like Grandfather Shirley, thought her letters were good enough to print, maybe her father might payattention to one of them. A resolve to write to him some day began toshape itself in her mind. 

She would have been surprised could she have known that already one ofher epistles was on its way to him. Barby had sent him the "rainbowletter. " For Barby had not drawn off silent and hurt when his lettersceased to come, as many a woman would have done. 

"Away off there in the interior he has missed the mails, " she toldherself. "Or the messenger he trusted may have failed to post hisletters, or he may be ill. I'll not judge him until I know. "

After Georgina's letter came she resolutely put her forebodings andmisgivings aside many a time, prompted by it to steer onward so steadilythat hope must do as Uncle Darcy said, "make rainbows even of her tears. "

Georgina wrote on until dinner time, telling all about the way she hadspent her birthday dollar. After dinner when the sunshine had dried alltraces of the previous night's rain, she persuaded Tippy that she wasentirely over the effects of the gas, and perfectly able to go downstreet and select the picture postals with which to conduct her dailycorrespondence. 

Richard joined her as she passed the bungalow. They made a thrillingafternoon for themselves by whispering to each other whenever anystrange-looking person passed them, "S'pose _that_ was the owner ofthe pouch and he was looking for us. " The dread of their sin finding themout walked like a silent-footed ghost beside them all the way, making thetwo pairs of brown eyes steal furtive glances at each other now and then, and delicious little shivers of apprehension creep up and down theirbacks. 

Whether it was the passing of the unseasonable weather into hot Julysunshine again or whether the wild-cat liniment was responsible, no oneundertook to say, but Mrs. Triplett's rheumatism left her suddenly, andat a time when she was specially glad to be rid of it. The Sewing Circle, to which she belonged, was preparing for a bazaar at the Church of thePilgrims, and her part in it would keep her away from home most of thetime for three days. 

That is why Georgina had unlimited freedom for a while. She was left inBelle's charge, and Belle, still brooding over her troubles, listlesslyassented to anything proposed to her. Belle had been allowed to go andcome as she pleased when she was ten, and she saw no reason why Georginawas not equally capable of taking care of herself. 

Hardly was Mrs. Triplett out of sight that first morning when Georginaslipped out of the back gate with a long brass-handled fire-shovel, tomeet Richard out on the dunes. He brought a hoe, and in his hand was thelittle compass imbedded in the nut. 

When all was ready, according to Georgina's instructions, he turnedaround three times, then facing the east tossed the compass over hisshoulder, saying solemnly, "Brother, go find your brother. " She stoodready to mark the spot when it should fall, but Captain Kidd was ahead ofher and had the nut in his teeth before she could reach the place whereit had touched the ground. So Richard took the nut away and held theagitated little terrier by the collar while Georgina went through thesame ceremony. 

This time Richard reached the nut before the dog, and drew a circlearound the spot where it had lain. Then he began digging into the sandwith the hoe so industriously that Captain Kidd was moved to franticbarking. 

"Here, get to work yourself and keep quiet, " ordered Richard. "Rats!You'll have Cousin James coming out to see what we're doing, first thingyou know. He thinks something is the matter now, every time you bark. Rats! I say. "

The magic word had its effect. After an instant of quivering eagernessthe dog pounced into the hole which Richard had started, and sent thesand flying furiously around him with his active little paws. Georginadragged the accumulating piles aside with the fire-shovel on one side, and Richard plied the hoe on the other. When the hole grew too deep forCaptain Kidd to dig in longer, Richard stepped in and went deeper. But itwas unsatisfactory work. The shifting sand, dry as powder at this depth, was constantly caving in and filling up the space. 

They tried making new holes, to the north of the old one, then to thesouth, then on the remaining sides. They were still at it when thewhistle at the cold-storage plant blew for noon. Georgina rubbed a sleeveacross her red, perspiring face, and shook the ends of her curls up anddown to cool her hot neck. 

"I don't see how we can dig any more to-day, " she said wearily. "The sunis blistering. I feel all scorched. "

"I've had enough, " confessed Richard. "But we've got to find that pouch. "

After a moment's rest, leaning on the hoe-handle, he had an inspiration. "Let's get Manuel and Joseph and Rosa to help us. They'd dig all day fora nickel. "

"I haven't one nickel left, " said Georgina. Then she thought a moment. "But I could bring some jelly-roll. Those Fayals would dig for eats asquick as they would for money. I'll tell Belle we're going to have a sortof a picnic over here and she'll let me bring all that's left in the cakebox. "

Richard investigated his pockets. A solitary nickel was all he could turnout. "Two cents for each of the boys and one for Rosa, " he said, butGeorgina shook her head. 

"Rosa would make trouble if you divided that way. She'd howl tillsomebody came to see what was the matter. But we could do this way. Theone who gets the least money gets the most jelly-roll. We'll wait tillthe digging is over and then let them divide it to suit themselves. "

By five o'clock that afternoon, the compass had been sent to "huntbrother" in a hundred different places, and the hollow circled by thebayberry bushes and beach plums where the pouch had been hidden filledwith deep holes. Captain Kidd had responded to the repeated call of"Rats" until the magic word had lost all charm for him. Even a dog comesto understand in time when a fellow creature has "an axe to grind. "Finally, he went off and lay down, merely wagging his tail in a bored waywhen any further effort was made to arouse his enthusiasm. 

The Fayal children, working valiantly in the trenches, laid down arms atlast and strolled home, their faces streaked with jelly-roll, andGeorgina went wearily up the beach, dragging her fire-shovel after her. She felt that she had had enough of the dunes to last her the rest of hernatural lifetime. She seemed to see piles of sand even when she looked atthe water or when her eyes were shut. 

"But we won't give up, " she said staunchly as she parted from Richard. "We're obliged to find that pouch, so we've _got_ to keep hope atthe prow. "

"Pity all this good digging has to be wasted, " said Richard, lookingaround at the various holes. "If it had all been in one place, straightdown, it would have been deep enough to strike a pirate's chest by thistime. I hope they'll fill up before anybody comes this way to noticethem. "

"Somehow, I'm not so anxious as I was to go off 'a-piratin' so bold, '"said Georgina with a tired sigh. "I've had enough digging to last meforever and always, amen. "

The Fayal children, surfeited with one afternoon of such effort, and notaltogether satisfied as to the division of wages which had led to war intheir midst, did not come back to the Place of the Pouch next morning, but Richard and Georgina appeared promptly, albeit with sore muscles andebbing enthusiasm. Only stern necessity and fear of consequences keptthem at their task. 

Cousin James had reported that there was a fishing vessel in that morningwith two enormous horse mackerel in the catch, which were to be cut upand salted at Railroad wharf. It was deliciously cool down on the wharf, with the breeze blowing off the water through the great packing shed, andthe white sails scudding past the open doors like fans. With Mrs. Triplett busy with the affairs of the Bazaar, it would have been awonderful opportunity for Georgina to have gone loitering along the pier, watching the summer people start off in motor boats or spread themselveslazily under flapping sails for a trip around the harbor. 

But something of the grim spirit of their ancestors, typified by themonument looking down on them from the hill, nerved both Richard andGeorgina one more time to answer to the stern call of Duty. 

Chapter XVIII

Found Out

"I dreamed about that old pouch last night, " said Richard in one of theintervals of rest which they allowed themselves. 

"I dreamed that it belonged to a Chinese man with crooked, yellow finger-nails a foot long. He came and stood over my bed and said that becausethere was important news in that letter and we buried it, and kept itfrom going to where it ought to go, _we_ had to be buried alive. Andhe picked me up like I was that nut and tossed me over his shoulder, andsaid, 'Brother, go find your brother. ' And I began sinking down in thesand deeper and deeper until I began to smother. "

Georgina made no answer. The dream did not impress her as being at allterrifying. She had swung her prism around her neck that morning when shedressed, and now while she rested she amused herself by flashing the barsof color across Captain Kidd. Richard resented her lack of interest. 

"Well, it may not sound very bad out here in the daylight, but you oughtto have _had_ it. I yelled until Daddy shook me and told me I'd wakeup the whole end of town with such a nightmare. If you'd have seen thatold Chinaman's face like a dragon's, you'd understand why I feel thatwe've just got to find that pouch. It's going to get us into some kind oftrouble, certain sure, if we don't. "

Georgina rose to begin digging again. "It's lucky nobody ever comes thisway to see all these holes, " she began, but stopped with her shovel halflifted. A familiar voice from the circle of bushes at the top of the dunecalled down cheerily:

"Ship ahoy, mates. What port are you bound for now? Digging through toChina?"

"It's Uncle Darcy!" they exclaimed in the same breath. He came plungingdown the side of the dune before they could recover from their confusion. There was a pail of blueberries in each hand. He had been down the stateroad picking them, and was now on his way to the Gray Inn to sell them tothe housekeeper. Leaving the pails in a level spot under the shade of ascrubby bush, he came on to where the children were standing, and easedhimself stiffly down to a seat on the sand. It amused him to see theirevident embarrassment, and his eyes twinkled as he inquired:

"What mischief are you up to now, digging all those gopher holes?"

Neither answered for a moment, then Georgina gulped and found her voice. "It's--it's a secret, " she managed to say. 

"Oh, " he answered, growing instantly grave at the sound of that word. "Then I mustn't ask any questions. We must always keep our secrets. Sometimes it's a pity though, when one has to promise to do so. I hopeyours isn't the burden to you that mine is to me. "

This was the first time he had spoken to them of the promise they hadmade to him and Belle. With a look all around as if to make certain thecoast was clear, he said:

"There's something I've been wanting to say to you children ever sincethat day you had the rifle, and now's as good a chance as any. I want youto know that I never would have promised what I did if it could have madeany possible difference to Mother. But lately she seems all confusedabout Danny's trouble. She seems to have forgotten there was any troubleexcept that he went away from home. For months she's been looking for himto walk in most any day. 

"Ever since I gave my word to Belle, I've been studying over the rightand wrong of it. I felt I wasn't acting fair to Danny. But now it's clearin my mind that it _was_ the right thing to do. I argue it this way. Danny cared so much about saving Emmett from disgrace and Belle from thepain of finding it out, that he was willing to give up his home and goodname and everything. Now it wouldn't be fair to him to make thatsacrifice in vain by telling while it can still be such a death-blow toEmmett's father and hurt Belle much as ever. She's gone on all theseyears fairly worshiping Emmett's memory for being such a hero. "

Uncle Darcy stopped suddenly and seemed to be drawn far away from them asif he had gone inside of himself with his own thoughts and forgottentheir presence. Georgina sat and fanned herself with her shade hat. Richard fumbled with the little compass, rolling it from one hand to theother, without giving any thought to what he was doing. Presently itrolled away from him and Captain Kidd darted after it, striking it withhis forepaws as he landed on it, and thus rolling it still farther tillit stopped at the old man's feet. 

Recalled to his surroundings in this way, Uncle Darcy glanced at theobject indifferently, but something strangely familiar in its appearancemade him lean closer and give it another look. He picked it up, examiningit eagerly. Then he stood up and gazed all around as if it had droppedfrom the sky and he expected to see the hand that had dropped it. 

"Where did you get this?" he demanded huskily, in such a queer, breathless way that Richard thought his day of reckoning had come. Hissin had found him out. He looked at Georgina helplessly. 

"Yes, tell!" she exclaimed, answering his look. 

"I--I--just _played_ it was mine, " he began. "'Cause the initials onit are the same as mine when we play pirate and I'm Dare-devil Dick. Iwas only going to keep it till we dug up the pouch again. We were keepingit to help find the pouch like Tom Sawyer did--"

It seemed to Richard that Uncle Darcy's hand, clutching his shoulder, waseven more threatening than the Chinaman's of his nightmare, and his voicemore imperative. 

"Tell me! Where did you get it? _That's my compass!_ I scratchedthose letters on that nut. 'D. D. ' stands for Dan'l Darcy. I brought ithome from my last voyage. 'Twas a good-luck nut they told me in the lastport I sailed from. It was one of the first things Danny ever playedwith. There's the marks of his first little tooth under those letters. Igave it to him when he got old enough to claim it, for the letters werehis, too. He always carried it in his pocket and _he had it with himwhen he went away_. For the love of heaven, child, tell me where youfound it?"

The hand which clutched Richard's shoulder was shaking as violently as ithad the day the old rifle gave up its secret, and Richard, feeling thesame unnamable terror he had felt in his nightmare, could only stammer, "I--I don't know. Captain Kidd found it. "

Then all three of them started violently, for a hearty voice just behindthem called out unexpectedly:

"Hullo, what's all the excitement about?"

It was Captain James Milford, who had strolled down from the bungalow, his hat stuck jauntily on the back of his head, and his hands in hispockets. A few moments before he had been scanning the harbor through along spy-glass, and happening to turn it towards the dunes had seen thetwo children digging diligently with shovel and hoe. 

"Looks as if they'd started to honey-comb the whole Cape with holes, " hethought. "Curious how many things kids of that age can think of. It mightbe well to step down and see what they're about. "

He put up the spy-glass and started down, approaching them on one side asthe Towncrier reached them on the other. 

"Now for a yarn that'll make their eyes stand out, " he thought with asmile as he saw the old man sit down on the sand. 

"Wonder if it would sound as thrilling now as it did when I was Dick'sage. I believe I'll just slip up and listen to one for old times' sake. "

Uncle Darcy let go of Richard's shoulder and turned to the newcomerappealingly. 

"Jimmy, " he said with a choke in his voice. "Look at this! The firsttrace of my boy since he left me, and they can't tell me where they gotit. "

He held out the compass and Mr. Milford took it from his tremblingfingers. 

"Why, _I_ remember this old trinket, Uncle Dan'l!" exclaimed Mr. Milford. "You let me carry it in my pocket one day when I was no biggerthan Dicky, here, when you took me fishing with you. I thought it wasresponsible for my luck, for I made my first big catch that day. Got amackerel that I bragged about all season. "

Uncle Darcy seized the man's arm with the same desperate grip which hadheld the boy's. 

"You don't seem to understand!" he exclaimed. "I'm trying to tell youthat _Danny_ is mixed up with this in some way. Either he's beennear here or somebody else has who's seen him. He had this with him whenhe went away, I tell you. These children say they took it out of a pouchthat the dog found. Help me, Jimmy. I can't seem to think--"

He sat weakly down on the sand again, his head in his hands, and Mr. Milford, deeply interested, turned to the children. His questions calledout a confusing and involved account, told piecemeal by Georgina andRichard in turn. 

"Hold on, now, let's get the straight of this, " he interrupted, growingmore bewildered as the story proceeded. "What was in the pouch besidesthe gold pieces, the other money and this compass?"

"A letter with a foreign stamp on it, " answered Richard. "I noticedspecially, because I have a stamp almost like it in my album. "

On being closely cross-questioned he could not say positively to whatcountry the stamp belonged. He thought it was Siam or China. Georginarecalled several names of towns partially scratched out on the back ofthe envelope, and the word Texas. She was sure of that and of "Mass. " andof "Mrs. Henry--" something or other. 

"But the inside of the letter, " persisted Mr. Milford. "Didn't you try toread that?"

"Course not, " said Georgina, her head indignantly high. "We only lookedat each end of it to see if the person's name was on it, but it began, 'Dear friend, ' and ended, 'Your grateful friend Dave. '"

"So the letter was addressed '_Mrs_. '" began Mr. Milford, musingly, "but was in a tobacco pouch. The first fact argues that a woman lost it, the last that it was a man. "

"But it didn't smell of tobacco, " volunteered Georgina. "It was nice andclean only where Captain Kidd chewed the string. "

"I suppose it didn't have any smell at all, " said Mr. Milford, not as ifhe expected anyone to remember, but that he happened to think of it. Aslowly dawning recollection began to brighten in Georgina's eyes. 

"But it did have a smell, " she exclaimed. "I remember it perfectly wellnow. Don't you know, Richard, when you were untying it at the top of thesteps I said 'Phew! that makes me think of the liniment I bought from thewild-cat woman last night, ' I had to hold the bottle in my lap all thetime we were at the moving picture show so I had a chance to get prettywell acquainted with that smell. And afterwards when we were wrapping thetin foil around the pouch, getting ready to bury it we both turned up ournoses at the way it smelled. It seemed stronger when the sun shone onit. "

"The wild-cat woman, " repeated Mr. Milford, turning on Georgina. "Wherewas she? What did you have to do with her? Was the dog with you?"

Little by little they began to recall the evening, how they had startedto the show with the Fayal family and turned aside to hear the patentmedicine man sing, how Richard and Georgina had dared each other to touchthe wild-cat's tail through the bars, and how Georgina in climbing downfrom the wheel had stumbled over Captain Kidd whom they thought safelyshut up at home. 

"I believe we've found a clue, " said Mr. Milford at last. "If anybody intown had lost it there'd have been a notice put up in the post-office orthe owner would have been around for you to cry it, Uncle Dan'l. But ifit's the wild-cat woman's she probably did not discover her loss till shewas well out of town, and maybe not until she reached her next stopping-place. "

"There's been nothing of the sort posted on the bulletin board at thepost-office, " said the old man. "I always glance in at it every morning. "

Mr. Milford looked at him thoughtfully as if considering something. Thenhe said slowly:

"Uncle Dan'l, just how much would it mean to you to find the owner ofthat pouch?"

"Why, Jimmy, " was the tremulous answer, "if it led to any trace of my boyit would be the one great hope of my life realized. "

"You are quite sure that you _want_ to bring him back? That it wouldbe best for all concerned?" he continued meaningly. 

There was a silence, then the old man answered with dignity:

"I know what you're thinking of, and considering all that's gone before, I'm not blaming you, but I can tell you this, Jimmy Milford. If the towncould know all that I know it'd be glad and proud to have my boy broughtback to it. "

He smote the fist of one hand into the palm of the other and looked aboutlike something trapped, seeking escape. 

"It isn't fair!" he exclaimed. "It isn't fair! Him worthy to hold up hishead with the best of them, and me bound not to tell. But I've given mypromise, " he added, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "I s'poseit'll all work out for the best, somehow, in the Lord's own good time, but I can't seem to see the justice in it now. "

He sat staring dejectedly ahead of him with dim, appealing eyes. 

The younger man took a step forward and laid an arm across the bentshoulders. 

"All right, Uncle Dan'l, " he said heartily. "If there's anything underthe sun I can do to help you I'm going to do it, beginning right now. Come on up to the house and I'll begin this Sherlock Holmes business bytelephoning down the Cape to every town on it till we locate this wild-cat liniment wagon, and then we'll get after it as fast as the bestautomobile in Provincetown can take us. "

Chapter XIX

Tracing the Liniment Wagon

To Wellfleet, to Orleans, to Chatham went the telephone call, toHarwichport and then back again to the little towns on the bay side ofthe Cape, for the wild-cat and its keepers did not follow a straightcourse in their meanderings. It was some time before Mr. Milfordsucceeded in locating them. At last he hung up the receiver announcing:

"They showed in Orleans last night all right, but it wasn't the road toChatham they took out of there this morning. It was to Brewster. We caneasily overtake them somewhere along in that direction and get back homebefore dark. "

There was one ecstatic moment for Georgina when it was made clear to herthat she was included in that "we"; that she was actually to have a sharein an automobile chase like the ones that had thrilled her in the movies. But that moment was soon over. 

"I hardly know what to do about leaving Mother, " began Uncle Darcy in atroubled voice. "She's feeling uncommon poorly to-day--she's in bed andcan't seem to remember anything longer than you're telling it. Mrs. Saggscame in to sit with her while I was out blueberrying, but she said shecouldn't stay past ten o'clock. She has company coming. "

"Couldn't you get some of the other neighbors to come in for the fewhours you'd be away?" asked Mr. Milford. "It's important you should followup this clue yourself. "

"No, Mrs. Saggs is the only one who keeps Mother from fretting when I'maway from her. Her side window looks right into our front yard, andordinarily it would be enough just for her to call across to her now andthen, but it wouldn't do to-day, Mother not being as well as common. She'd forget where I was gone and I couldn't bear to have her lying therefrightened and worried and not remembering why I had left her alone. She's like a child at times. _You_ know how it is, " he said, turningto Georgina. "Not flighty, but just needing to be soothed and talked to. "

Georgina nodded. She knew, for on several occasions she had sat besideAunt Elspeth when she was in such a mood, and had quieted and pleased herwith little songs and simple rhymes. She knew she could do it againto-day as effectually as Mrs. Saggs, if it wasn't for giving up thatexciting motor chase after the wild-cat woman. It seemed to her a greatersacrifice than flesh and blood should be called upon to make. She sat onthe porch step, twirling her prism carelessly on its pink ribbon whileshe waited for the machine to be brought around. Then she climbed intothe back seat with Uncle Darcy and the two pails of blueberries, whileRichard settled himself and Captain Kidd in front with his Cousin James. 

They whirled up to the Gray Inn to leave the blueberries, and then arounddown Bradford Street to Fishburn Court to attempt to explain to AuntElspeth. On the way they passed the Pilgrim monument. Georgina tried notto look at it, but she couldn't help glancing up at it from the corner ofher eye. 

"You must, " it seemed to say to her. 

"I won't, " she as silently answered back. 

"It's your duty, " it reminded her, "and the idea of a descendant of oneof the Pilgrim Fathers and one of the Minute-men shirking her duty. Apretty member of the Rainbow Club _you_ are, " it scoffed. 

They whirled by the grim monster of a monument quickly, but Georgina feltimpelled to turn and look back at it, her gaze following it up higher andhigher, above the gargoyles, to the tipmost stones which seemed to touchthe sky. 

"I hate that word Duty, " she said savagely to herself. "It's as big andugly and as always-in-front-of-you as that old monument. They're exactlyalike. You can't help seeing them no matter which way you look or howhard you try not to. "

At the gate she tried to put the obnoxious word out of her mind byleaning luxuriously back in the car and looking up at the chimney topswhile Uncle Darcy stepped out and went into the house. He came out againalmost immediately, crossed the little front yard and put his head in atMrs. Saggs' side window. After a short conversation with her he came outto the gate and stood irresolutely fingering the latch. 

"I don't know what to do, " he repeated, his voice even more troubled thanbefore. "Mother's asleep now. Mrs. Saggs says she'll go over at twelveand take her her tea, but--I can't help feeling I ought not to leave heralone for so long. Couldn't you manage without me?"

And then, Georgina inwardly protesting, "I don't want to and I won't, "found herself stepping out of the car, and heard her own voice sayingsweetly:

"I'll stay with Aunt Elspeth, Uncle Darcy. I can keep her from fretting. "

A smile of relief broke over the old man's face and he said heartily:

"Why, of course you can, honey. It never occurred to me to ask a littlelass like you to stop and care for her, but you can do it better thananybody else, because Mother's so fond of you. "

Neither had it occurred to him or to either of the others that it was asacrifice for her to give up this ride. There was not a word from anyoneabout its being a noble thing for her to do. Mr. Milford, in a hurry tobe off, merely nodded his satisfaction at having the matter arranged soquickly. Uncle Darcy stepped back to the window for a parting word withMrs. Saggs. 

"She'll keep an ear out for you, Georgina, " he said as he went back tothe car. "Just call her if you want her for any reason. There's plentycooked in the cupboard for your dinner, and Mrs. Saggs will tend toMother's tea when the time comes. When she wakes up and asks for me bestnot tell her I'm out of town. Just say I'll be back bye and bye, andhumor her along that way. "

And then they were off with a whirr and a clang that sent the chickens inthe road scattering in every direction. Georgina was left standing by thegate thinking, "What made me do it? What _made_ me do it? I don'twant to stay one bit. "

The odor of gasoline cleared away and the usual Sabbath-like stillnesssettled down over all the court. She walked slowly across the shadylittle grass plot to the front door, hesitated there a moment, then wentinto the cottage and took off her hat. 

A glance into the dim bedroom beyond showed her Aunt Elspeth's white headlying motionless on her pillow. The sight of the quiet sleeper made herfeel appallingly lonesome. It was like being all by herself in the houseto be there with one who made no sound or movement. She would have tofind something to do. It was only eleven o'clock. She tiptoed out intothe kitchen. 

The almanac had been left lying on the table. She looked slowly throughit, and was rewarded by finding something of interest. On the last pagewas a column of riddles, and one of them was so good she started tomemorize it so that she could propound it to Richard. She was sure henever could guess it. Finding it harder to remember than it seemed atfirst glance, she decided to copy it. She did not know where to look fora sheet of paper, but remembered several paper bags on the pantryshelves, so she went in search of one. Finding one with only a cupful ofsugar left in it, she tore off the top and wrote the riddle on that witha stub of a pencil which she found on the table. 

While searching for the bag she took an inventory of the supplies in thepantry from which she was to choose her dinner. When she had finishedcopying the riddle she went back to them. There were baked beans andblueberry pie, cold biscuit and a dish of honey. 

"I'll get my dinner now, " she decided, "then I'll be ready to sit withAunt Elspeth when her tea comes. "

As Georgina went back and forth from table to shelf it was in unconsciousimitation of Mrs. Triplett's brisk manner. Pattering after that capablehousekeeper on her busy rounds as persistently as Georgina had done allher life, had taught her to move in the same way. Presently shediscovered that there was a fire laid in the little wood stove ready tolight. The stove was so small in comparison to the big kitchen range athome, that it appealed to Georgina as a toy stove might have done. Shestood looking at it thinking what fun it would be to cook something on itall by herself with no Tippy standing by to say do this or don't do theother. 

"I think I ought to be allowed to have some fun to make up for mydisappointment, " she said to herself as the temptation grew stronger andstronger. 

"I could cook me an egg. Tippy lets me beat them but she never lets mebreak them and I've always wanted to break one and let it go plunk intothe pan. "

She did not resist the temptation long. There was the sputter of a match, the puff of a flame, and the little stove was roaring away so effectivelythat one of old Jeremy's sayings rose to her lips. Jeremy had a proverbfor everything. 

"Little pot, soon hot, " she said out loud, gleefully, and reached intothe cupboard for the crock of bran in which the eggs were kept. ThenGeorgina's skill as an actor showed itself again, although she was notconscious of imitating anyone. In Tippy's best manner she wiped out thefrying-pan, settled it in a hot place on the stove, dropped in a bit ofbutter. 

With the assured air of one who has had long practice, she picked up anegg and gave it a sharp crack on the edge of the pan, expecting it topart evenly into halves and its contents to glide properly into thebutter. It looked so alluringly simple and easy that she had alwaysresented Tippy's saying she would make a mess of it if she tried to doit. But mess was the only name which could be given to what poured out onthe top of the stove as her fingers went crashing through the shell andinto the slimy feeling contents. The broken yolk dripped from her hands, and in the one instant she stood holding them out from her in disgust, all the rest of the egg which had gone sliding over the stove, cooked, scorched and turned to a cinder. 

The smell and smoke of the burning egg rose to the ceiling and filled theroom. Georgina sprang to close the door so that the odor would not rouseAunt Elspeth, and then with carving knife and stove-lid lifter, shescraped the charred remains into the fire. 

"And it looked _so_ easy, " she mourned. "Maybe I didn't whack itquickly enough. I'm going to try again. " She felt into the bran foranother egg. This time she struck the shell so hard that its contentssplashed out sideways with an unexpected squirt and slid to the floor. She was ready to cry as she wiped up the slippery stuff, but there cameto her mind some verses which Tippy had taught her long ago. And sodetermined had Tippy been for her to learn them, that she offered theinducement of a string of blue beads. The name of the poem was"Perseverance, " and it began:

 "Here's a lesson all should heed-- Try, try again. If at first you don't succeed, Try, try again. "

and it ended, "That which other folks can do Why with patience may not you? Try, try again. "

Tippy sowed that seed the same winter that she taught Georgina "TheLanding of the Pilgrims"; but surely, no matter how long a time sincethen, Tippy should be held accountable for the after effects of thatplanting. If Georgina persevered it was no more than could be expectedconsidering her rigorous up-bringing. 

Georgina pushed the frying-pan to the back of the stove where it wascooler, and with her red lips pursed into a tight line, chose anotheregg, smote it sharply on the edge of the pan, thereby cracking it andbreaking the shell into halves. Her thumbs punched through into the yolkof this one also, but by letting part of the shell drop with it, shemanaged to land it all in the pan. That was better. She fished out thefragment of shell and took another egg. 

This time the feat was accomplished as deftly as an exoert chef couldhave done it, and a pleased smile took the place of the grimdetermination on Georgina's face. Elated by her success she broke anotheregg, then another and another. It was as easy as breathing or winking. She broke another for the pure joy of putting her dexterity to the testonce more. Then she stopped, appalled by the pile of empty shellsconfronting her accusingly. She counted them. She had broken eight--three-fourths of a setting. What would Uncle Darcy say to such a wickedwaste? She could burn the shells, but what an awful lot of insides todispose of. All mixed up as they were, they couldn't be saved for cake. There was nothing to do but to scramble them. 

Scramble them she did, and the pan seemed to grow fuller and fuller asshe tossed the fluffy mass about with a fork. It was fun doing that. Shemade the most of this short space of time, and it was over all too soon. She knew that Aunt Elspeth had grown tired of eggs early in the summer. There was no use saving any for her. Georgina herself was not especiallyfond of them, but she would have to eat all she could to keep them frombeing wasted. 

Some time after she rose from the table and looked at the dish with afeeling of disgust that there could still be such a quantity left, aftershe had eaten so much that it was impossible to enjoy even a taste of theblueberry pie or the honey. Carrying the dish out through the back doorshe emptied it into the cats' pan, fervently wishing that John and MaryDarcy and old Yellownose could dispose of it all without being made ill. 

Long ago she had learned to do her sums in the sand. Now she stooped downand with the handle of her spoon scratched some figures in the path. "Iftwelve eggs cost thirty cents, how much will eight eggs cost?" That wasthe sum she set for herself. Only that morning she had heard Tippyinquire the price of eggs from the butter-woman, and say they wereunusually high and hard to get because they were so many summer people intown this season. She didn't know where they were going to get enough forall the cakes necessary for the Bazaar. 

It took Georgina some time to solve the problem. Then going back to thekitchen she gathered up all the shells and dropped them into the fire. Her sacrifice was costing her far more than she had anticipated. Somehow, somewhere, she must get hold of twenty cents to pay for those eggs. Dutyagain. _Always_ Duty. But for that one horrid word she would beracing down the road to Brewster in the wake of the wild-cat woman. Shewondered if they had caught up with her yet. 

Chapter XX

Dance of the Rainbow Fairies

Georgina, intent on washing the frying-pan and cleaning the last vestigeof burnt egg from the top of the stove, did not hear Mrs. Saggs come inat the front door with Aunt Elspeth's dinner on a tray. Nor did she hearthe murmur of voices that went on while it was being eaten. The bedroomwas in the front of the house, and the rasping noise she was making asshe scratched away with the edge of an iron spoon, kept her from hearinganything else. So when the door into the kitchen suddenly opened it gaveher such a start that she dropped the dishcloth into the woodbox. 

Mrs. Saggs sniffed suspiciously. There was something reproachful in themere tilt of her nose which Georgina felt and resented. 

"I thought I smelled something burning. "

"I s'pect you did, " Georgina answered calmly. "But it's all over now. Iwas getting my dinner early, so's I could sit with Aunt Elspethafterward. "

Mrs. Saggs had both hands full, as she was carrying her tray, so shecould not open the stove to look in; but she walked over towards it andpeered at it from a closer viewpoint, continuing to sniff. But there wasnothing for her to discover, no clue to the smell. Everything whichGeorgina had used was washed and back in place now. The sharp eyes made asurvey of the kitchen, watching Georgina narrowly as the child, havingrinsed the dishcloth after its fall, leaned out of the back door to hangit on a bush in the sun, as Uncle Darcy always did. 

"You've been taught to be real neat, haven't you?" she said in anapproving tone which made Georgina like her better. Then her glance fellon a work-basket which had been left sitting on top of the flour barrel. In it was a piece of half-finished mending. The sharp eyes softened. 

"I declare!" she exclaimed. "It's downright pitiful the way that old mantries to do for himself and his poor old wife. It's surprising, though, how well he gets along with the housework and taking care of her andall. "

She glanced again at the needle left sticking in the clumsy unfinishedseam, and recognized the garment. 

"Well, I wish you'd look at that! Even trying to patch her poor oldnightgown for her! Can you beat that? Here, child, give it to me. Myhands are full with this tray, so just stick it under my arm. I'll mendit this afternoon while I'm setting talking to the company. "

She tightened her grip on the bundle which Georgina thrust under her arm, and looked down at it. 

"Them pitiful old stiff fingers of his'n!" she exclaimed. "They sure makea botch of sewing, but they don't ever make a botch of being kind. Well, I'm off now. Guess you'd better run in and set with Mis' Darcy for aspell, for she's waked up real natural and knowing now, and seems tocrave company. "

Georgina went, but paused on the way, seeing the familiar rooms in a newlight, since Mrs. Saggs' remarks had given her new and illuminatinginsight. Everywhere she looked there was something as eloquent as thatbit of unfinished mending to bear witness that Uncle Darcy was far morethan just a weather-beaten old man with a smile and word of cheer foreverybody. Ringing the Towncrier's bell and fishing and blueberrying andtelling yarns and helping everybody bear their trouble was the least partof his doings. That was only what the world saw. That was all she hadseen herself until this moment. 

Now she was suddenly aware of his bigness of soul which made him capableof an infinite tenderness and capacity to serve. His devotion to AuntElspeth spread an encircling care around her as a great oak throws thearms of its shade, till her comfort was his constant thought, herhappiness his greatest desire. 

"Them pitiful, old, stiff fingers of his'n!" How could Mrs. Saggs speakof them so? They were heroic, effectual fingers. Theirs was something fargreater than the Midas touch--they transmuted the smallest service intoLove's gold. 

Georgina, with her long stretching up to books that were "over her head, "understood this without being able to put it into words. Nor could sheput into words the longing which seized her like a dull ache, for_Barby_ to be loved and cared for like that, to be as constantly andsupremely considered. She couldn't understand how Aunt Elspeth, old andwrinkled and childish, could be the object of such wonderful devotion, and Barby, her adorable, winsome Barby, call forth less. 

"Not one letter in four long months, " she thought bitterly. 

"Dan'l, " called Aunt Elspeth feebly from the next room, and Georgina wentin to assure her that Uncle Darcy was _not_ out in the boat andwould not be brought home drowned. He was attending to some importantbusiness and would be back bye and bye. In the meantime, she was going tohang her prism in the window where the sun could touch it and let therainbow fairies dance over the bed. 

The gay flashes of color, darting like elfin wings here and there asGeorgina twisted the ribbon, pleased Aunt Elspeth as if she were a child. She lifted a thin, shriveled hand to catch at them and gave a weak littlelaugh each time they eluded her grasp. It was such a thin hand, almosttransparent, with thick, purplish veins standing out on it. Georginaglanced at her own and wondered if Aunt Elspeth's ever could have beendimpled and soft like hers. It did not seem possible that this frail oldwoman with the snowy-white hair and sunken cheeks could ever have been arosy child like herself. As if in answer to her thought, Aunt Elspethspoke, groping again with weak, ineffectual passes after the rainbows. 

"I can't catch them. They bob around so. That's the way I used to be, always on the move. They called me 'Bouncing Bet!'"

"Tell me about that time, " urged Georgina. Back among early memories AuntElspeth's mind walked with firm, unfailing tread. It was only among thoseof later years that she hesitated and groped her way as if lost in fog. By the time the clock had struck the hours twice more Georgina felt thatshe knew intimately a mischievous girl whom her family called BouncingBet for her wild ways, but who bore no trace of a resemblance to thefeeble old creature who recounted her pranks. 

And the blue-eyed romp who could sail a boat like a boy or swim like amackerel grew up into a slender slip of a lass with a shy grace whichmade one think of a wild-flower. At least that is what the olddaguerreotype showed Georgina when Aunt Elspeth sent her rummagingthrough a trunk to find it. It was taken in a white dress standing besidea young sailor in his uniform. No wonder Uncle Darcy looked proud in thepicture. But Georgina never would have known it was Uncle Darcy if shehadn't been told. He had changed, too. 

The picture make Georgina think of one of Barby's songs, and presentlywhen Aunt Elspeth was tired of talking she sang it to her:

 "Hand in hand when our life was May. Hand in hand when our hair is gray. Sorrow and sun for everyone As the years roll on. Hand in hand when the long night tide Gently covers us side by side------ Ah, lad, though we know not when, Love will be with us forever then. Always the same, Darby my own, Always the same to your old wife Joan!"

After that there were other songs which Aunt Elspeth asked for, "Oh, wertthou in the cauld blast, " and "Robin Adair. " Then came a long tiresomepause when Georgina didn't know what to do next, and Aunt Elspeth turnedher head restlessly on the pillow and seemed uneasy. 

Georgina wished with all her heart she was out of the stuffy littlebedroom. If she had gone with the others, she would be speeding along thesmooth, white road now, coming home from Brewster, with the wind andsunshine of all the wide, free outdoors around her. 

Aunt Elspeth drew a long, tired sigh. 

"Maybe you'd like me to read to you, " ventured Georgina. She hesitatedover making such an offer, because there were so few books in the house. Nothing but the almanac looked interesting. Aunt Elspeth assented, andpointed out a worn little volume of devotions on top of the bureau, saying:

"That's what Dan'l reads me on Sundays. "

Georgina opened it. Evidently it had been compiled for the use of sea-faring people, for it was full of the promises that sailor-folk bestunderstand; none of the shepherd psalms or talk of green pastures andhelp-giving hills. It was all about mighty waters and paths through thedeep. She settled herself comfortably in the low rocking-chair beside thebed, tossed back her curls and was about to begin, when one of therainbow lights from the prism danced across the page. She waited, smiling, until it glimmered away. Then she read the verses on which ithad shone. 

_"All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me, yet the Lord willcommand His loving kindness in the daytime, and in the night His songshall be with me. "_

The sweet little voice soothed the troubled spirit that listened likemusic. 

_"When thou passeth through the waters I will be with thee, and throughthe rivers: they shall not overflow thee. . . . Thus saith the Lord whichmaketh a way in the sea, and a path in the mighty waters. "_

Aunt Elspeth reached out a groping hand for Georgina's and took the softlittle fingers in hers. Georgina didn't want to have her hand held, especially in such a stiff, bony clasp. It made her uncomfortable to sitwith her arm stretched up in such a position, but she was too polite towithdraw it, so she read on for several pages. 

_"He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. SoHe bringeth them into their desired haven. "_

Attracted by the sound of heavy breathing, she looked up. Aunt Elspethwas asleep. Georgina laid the book on the table, and slowly, very slowlybegan to raise herself out of the chair, afraid of arousing the sleeperwho still held her hand. As she stood up, the board in the floor underher squeaked. She was afraid to take another step or to try to pull herhand away. She had come to the end of her resources for entertainment, and she was afraid Aunt Elspeth's next awakening might be to a crying, restless mood which she could not control. So she sat down again. 

It was very still in the bedroom. A fly buzzed on the outside of thewindow screen, and away off on another street the "accommodation" wasgoing by. She could hear the bells jingling on the horses. As she satthus, not even rocking, but just jiggling the chair a trifle, the wordsshe had read began to come back to her after a while like a refrain: "SoHe bringeth them into their desired haven. So He bringeth them into theirdesired haven. " She whispered them over and over as she often whisperedsongs, hearing the music which had no tone except in her thought. 

And presently, as the whispered song repeated itself, the words began tobring a wonderful sense of peace and security. She did not realize whatit was that was speaking to her through them. It was the faith which hadlived so long in these lowly little rooms. It was the faith which hadupborne Uncle Darcy year after year, helping him to steer onward in theconfidence that the Hand he trusted would fulfil all its promises. Shefelt the subtle influence that goes out from such lives, without knowingwhat it was that touched her. She was conscious of it only as she wasconscious of the nearness of mignonette when its fragrance stole in fromthe flower-bed under the window. They were both unseen but themignonette's fragrance was wonderfully sweet, and the feeling ofconfidence, breathing through the words of the old psalm was wonderfullystrong. Some day she, too, would be brought, and Barby would he broughtinto "their desired haven. "

Georgina was tired. It had been a full day, beginning with that diggingin the dunes. Presently she began to nod. Then the rocking chair ceasedto sway. When the clock struck again she did not hear it. She was soundasleep with her hand still clasped in Aunt Elspeth's. 

Chapter XXI

On the Trail of the Wild-Cat Woman

Meanwhile, the pursuing party had made the trip to Brewster and were ontheir way home. At the various small towns where they stopped to askquestions, they found that the patent-medicine vendors had invariablyfollowed one course. They had taken supper at the hotel, but after eachevening's performance had driven into the country a little way to campfor the night, in the open. At Orleans an acquaintance of Mr. Milford'sin a feed store had much to say about them. 

"I don't know whether they camp out of consideration for the wild-cat, orwhether it's because they're attached to that rovin', gypsy life. They'regood spenders, and from the way they sold their liniment here last night, you'd think they could afford to put up at a hotel all the time and takea room for the cat in the bargain. You needn't tell me that beast eversaw the banks of the Brazos. I'll bet they caught it up in the Mainewoods some'rs. But they seem such honest, straightforward sort of folks, somehow you have to believe 'em. They're a friendly pair, too, speciallythe old lady. Seems funny to hear you speak of her as the wild-cat woman. That name is sure a misfit for her. "

Mr. Milford thought so himself, when a little later he came across her, amile out of Brewster. She was sitting in the wooden rocking chair in oneend of the ivagon, placidly darning a pair of socks, while she waited forher husband to bring the horses from some place up in the woods where hehad taken them for water. They had been staked by the roadside all nightto graze. The wild-cat was blinking drowsily in its cage, having justbeen fed. 

Some charred sticks and a little pile of ashes by the roadside, showedwhere she had cooked dinner over a camp-fire, but the embers werecarefully extinguished and the frying pan and dishes were stowed out ofsight in some mysterious compartment under the wagon bed, as compactly asif they had been parts of a Chinese puzzle. Long experience on the roadhad taught her how to pack with ease and dexterity. 

She looked up with interest as the automobile drew out of the road, andstopped alongside the wagon. She was used to purchasers following themout of town for the liniment after a successful show like last night'sperformance. 

Despite the feedman's description of her, Mr. Milford had expected to seesome sort of an adventuress such as one naturally associates with such abusiness, and when he saw the placid old lady with the smooth, gray hair, and met the gaze of the motherly eyes peering over her spectacles at him, he scarcely knew how to begin. Uncle Darcy, growing impatient at the timeconsumed in politely leading up to the object of their coming, fidgettedin his seat. At last he could wait no longer for remarks about weatherand wild-cats. Such conversational paths led nowhere. He interruptedabruptly. 

"I'm the Towncrier from Provincetown, ma'am. Did you lose anything whileyou were there?"

"Well, now, " she began slowly. "I can't say where I lost it. I didn'tthink it was in Provincetown though. I made sure it was some placebetween Harwichport and Orleans, and I had my man post notices in boththose places. "

"And what was it you lost?" inquired Mr. Milford politely. He hadcautioned his old friend on the way down at intervals of every few miles, not to build his hopes up too much on finding that this woman was theowner of the pouch. 

"You may have to follow a hundred different clues before you get hold ofthe right one, " he warned him. "We're taking this trip on the mere chancethat we'll find the owner, just because two children associated the pouchin their memory with the odor of liniment. It is more than likely they'remistaken and that this is all a wild-goose chase. "

But Uncle Darcy _had_ built his hopes on it, had set his heart onfinding this was the right clue, and his beaming face said, "I told youso, " when she answered:

"It was a little tobacco pouch, and I'm dreadfully put out over losingit, because aside from the valuables and keep-sakes in it there was aletter that's been following me all over the country. It didn't reach metill just before I got to Provincetown. It's from some heathen countrywith such an outlandish name I couldn't remember it while I was readingit, scarcely, and now I'll never think of it again while the world wags, and there's no way for me to answer it unless I do. "

"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Uncle Darcy. "You _must_ think ofit. And I _must_ know. How did this come into your hands?"

He held out the little watch-fob charm, the compass set in a nut and sheseized it eagerly. 

"Well, you did find my pouch, didn't you?" she exclaimed. "I made surethat was what you were aiming to tell me. That's a good-luck charm. Itwas given to me as much as eight years ago, by a young fellow who wastaken sick on our ranch down in Texas. He'd been working around the docksin Galveston, but came on inland because somebody roped him in to believehe could make a fortune in cattle in a few months. He was riding fencesfor Henry, and he came down with a fever and Henry and me nursed himthrough. "

Always talkative, she poured out her information now in a stream, drawnon by the compelling eagerness of the old man's gaze. 

"He was a nice boy and the most grateful soul you ever saw. But he didn'ttake to the cattle business, and he soon pushed on. He was all broke upwhen it came to saying good-bye. You could see that, although he's one ofyour quiet kind, hiding his real feelings like an Indian. He gave me thisgood-luck charm when he left, because he didn't have anything else togive, to show he appreciated our nursing him and doing for him, and hesaid that he'd _make_ it bring us good luck or die a-trying and we'dhear from him some of these days. "

"And you did?"

The old man's face was twitching with eagerness as he asked the question. 

"Yes, about five years ago he sent us a nice little check at Christmas. Said he had a good job with a wealthy Englishman who spent his time goingaround the world discovering queer plants and writing books about them. He was in South America then. We've heard from him several times since. This last letter followed me around from pillar to post, always justmissing me and having to have the address scratched out and written overtill you could hardly make head or tail of what was on it. 

"He asked me to write to the address he gave me, but whether it was in'Afric's sunny fountain or India's coral strand, ' I can't tell now. Itwas some heathenish 'land in error's chain, ' as the missionary hymn says. I was so worried over losing the letter on account of the address, for hedid seem so bent on hearing from us, and he's a nice boy. I'd hate toloose track of him. So I'm mighty thankful you found the pouch. "

She stopped, expecting them to hand it over. Mr. Milford made thenecessary explanation. He told of Captain Kidd finding it and bringing ithome, of the two children burying it in play and the storm sweeping awayevery trace of the markers. While he told the story several automobilespassed them and the occupants leaned out to look at the strange groupbeside the road. It was not every day one could see an old lady seated ina rocking chair in one end of an unattached wagon with a wild-cat in theother. These passing tourists would have thought it stranger still, couldthey have known how fate had been tangling the life threads of thesepeople who were in such earnest conversation, or how it had wound themtogether into a queer skein of happenings. 

"And the only reason this compass was saved, " concluded Mr. Milford, "wasbecause it had the initials 'D. D. ' scratched on it, which stands forthis little boy's name when he plays pirate--Dare-devil Dick. "

The motherly eyes smiled on Richard "If you want to know the real namethose letters stand for, " she said, "it's Dave Daniels. That's the nameof the boy who gave it to me. "

Richard looked alarmed, and even Mr. Milford turned with a questioningglance towards Uncle Darcy, about to say something, when the old manleaned past him and spoke quickly, almost defiantly, as a child mighthave done. 

"That's all right. I don't care what he told you his name was. He had agood reason for changing it. And I'm going to tell you this much nomatter what I promised. _I_ scratched those initials on there my ownself, over forty years ago. And the boy who gave it to you _is_named Daniel, but it's his first name, same as mine. Dan'l Darcy. And theboy's mine, and I've been hunting him for ten long years, and I've faithto believe that the good Lord isn't going to disappoint me now that I'mthis near the end of my hunt. He had a good reason for going away fromhome the way he did. He'd a good reason for changing his name as he did, but the time has come now when it's all right for him to come back and, "shaking his finger solemnly and impressively at the woman, "_I want youto get that word back to him without fail_. "

"But this is only circumstantial evidence, Uncle Dan'l, " said Mr. Milford, soothingly. "You haven't any real proof that this Dave is yourDanny. "

"Proof, proof, " was the excited answer. "I tell you, man, I've all theproof I need. All I ask for is the address in that letter. I'll find myboy quick enough. "

"But I don't know, " was all the woman could answer. "The only way in theworld to find it is to dig up that pouch. "

"But even if you can't remember the new address tell me one of the oldones, " he pleaded. "I'll take a chance on writing there and having itforwarded. "

But the woman could not recall the name of a single city. South America, Australia, New Zealand, she remembered he had been in those countries, but that was all. Richard, upon being cross-questioned again, "b'leeved"the stamp was from Siam or China but couldn't be certain which. 

"Here comes Henry!" exclaimed the woman in a relieved tone. "Maybe he'llremember. "

Henry, a tall, raw-boned man with iron-gray hair under his Texassombrero, in his shirt sleeves and with his after-dinner pipe still inhis mouth, came leisurely out of the woods, leading the horses. They werealready harnessed, ready to be hitched to the wagon. He backed them up tothe tongue and snapped the chains in place before he paused to give thestrangers more than a passing nod of greeting. Then he came around to theside of the wagon nearest the machine, and putting one foot up on a spokeof his front wheel, leaned over in a listening attitude, while the wholestory was repeated for his benefit. 

"So you're his father, " he said musingly, looking at Uncle Darcy withshrewd eyes that were used to appraising strangers. 

"Who ever would a thought of coming across Dave Daniels' tracks up hereon old Cape Cod? You look like him though. I bet at his age you were asmuch alike as two peas in a pod. I never did know where he hailed from. He was a close-mouthed chap. But I somehow got the idea he must have beenbrought up near salt water. He talked so much sailor lingo. "

"Put on your thinking-cap, Henry, " demanded his wife. "The gentlemenwants to know where that last letter was written from, what the postmarkwas, or the address inside, or what country the stamp belonged to. And ifyou don't know that, what are some of the other places he wrote to usfrom?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree when you ask _me_ any suchquestions, " was the only answer he could give. "I didn't pay anyattention to anything but the reading matter. "

Questions, surmises, suggestions, everything that could be brought up asaids to memory were of no avail. Henry's memory was a blank in that oneimportant particular. Finally, Mr. Milford took two five-dollar goldpieces out of his pocket and a handful of small change which he droppedinto the woman's lap despite her protests. 

"We'll square up the damage the children did as far as possible, " he saidwith a laugh. "But we can't get the letter back until the wind is readyto turn the dunes topsy-turvy again. That may be in years and it may benever. Let me have your address and if ever it is found it shall be sentdirectly back to you, and the children can inherit the money if I'm nothere to claim it. "

The man made a wry face at mention of his address. "We sort of belong towhat they call the floating population now. Home with us means any oldplace where Mother happens to set her rocking chair. We've turned theranch over to my daughter and her husband while we see something of theworld, and as long as things go as smoothly as they do, we're in no greatshakes of a hurry to get back. "

"But the ranch address will always find us, Henry, " she insisted. "Writeit down for the gentlemen. Ain't this been a strange happening?" shecommented, as she received Mr. Milford's card in return with theTowncrier's name penciled on the back. She looked searchingly at Richard. 

"I remember you, now, " she said. "There was such a pretty little girlwith you--climbed up on the wagon to touch Tim's tail through the bars. She had long curls and a smile that made me want to hug her. She bought abottle of liniment, I remember, and I've thought of her a dozen timessince then, thought how a little face like that brightens up all theworld around it. "

"That was Georgina Huntingdon, " volunteered Richard. 

"Well, now, that's a pretty name. Write it down on the other side of thispiece of paper, sonny, and yours, too. Then when I go about the countryI'll know what to call you when I think about you. This is just like astory. If there was somebody who knew how to write it up 'twould make agood piece for the papers, wouldn't it?"

They were ready to start back now, since there was no more information tobe had, but on one pretext or another Uncle Darcy delayed. He was sopitifully eager for more news of Danny. The smallest crumb about the wayhe looked, what he did and said was seized upon hungrily, although it wasnews eight years old. And he begged to hear once more just what it wasDanny had said about the Englishman, and the work they were doingtogether. He could have sat there the rest of the day listening to herrepeat the same things over and over if he had had his wish. Then sheasked a question. 

"Who is Belle? I mind when he was out of his head so long with the feverhe kept saying, '_Belle_ mustn't suffer. No matter what happens_Belle_ must be spared. ' I remembered because that's my name, andhearing it called out in the dead of night the way a man crazy with feverwould call it, naturally makes you recollect it. "

"That was just a friend of his, " answered Uncle Darcy, "the girl who wasgoing to marry his chum. "

"Oh, " was the answer in a tone which seemed to convey a shade ofdisappontment. "I thought maybe--"

She did not finish the sentence, for the engine had begun to shakenoisily, and it seemed to distract her thoughts. And now there beingreally nothing more to give them an excuse for lingering they saidgoodbye to their wayside acquaintances, feeling that they were partingfrom two old friends, so cordial were the good wishes which accompaniedthe leave-taking. 

Chapter XXII

The Rainbow Game

With her arm stiff and cramped from being held so long in one position, Georgina waked suddenly and looked around her in bewilderment. UncleDarcy was in the room, saying something about her riding home in themachine. He didn't want to hurry her off, but Mr. Milford was waiting atthe gate, and it would save her a long walk home----. 

While he talked he was leaning over Aunt Elspeth, patting her cheek, andshe was clinging to his hand and smiling up at him as if he had just beenrestored to her after a long, long absence, instead of a separation ofonly a few hours. And he looked so glad about something, as if the nicestthing in the world had happened, that Georgina rubbed her eyes and staredat him, wondering what it could have been. 

Evidently, it was the honk of the horn which had aroused Georgina, andwhen it sounded again she sprang up, still confused by the suddenness ofher awakening, with only one thing clear in her mind, the necessity forhaste. She snatched her prism from the window and caught up her hat asshe ran through the next room, but not until she was half-way home didshe remember that she had said nothing about the eggs and had asked noquestions about the trip to Brewster. She had not even said good-bye. 

Mr. Milford nodded pleasantly when she went out to the car, saying, "Hopin, kiddie, " but he did not turn around after they started and she didnot feel well enough acquainted with him to shout out questions behindhis back. Besides, after they had gone a couple of blocks he beganexplaining something to Richard, who was sitting up in front of him, about the workings of the car, and kept on explaining all the rest of theway home. She couldn't interrupt. 

Not until she climbed out in front of her own gate with a shy "Thank you, Mr. Milford, for bringing me home, " did she find courage and opportunityto ask the question she longed to know. 

"Did you find the woman? _Was_ it her pouch?"

Mr. Milford was leaning forward in his seat to examine something that hadto do with the shifting of the gears, and he answered while heinvestigated, without looking up. 

"Yes, but she couldn't remember where the letter was from, so we're notmuch wiser than we were before, except that we know for a certainty thatDan was alive and well less than two months ago. At least Uncle Dan'lbelieves it is Dan. The woman calls him Dave, but Uncle Dan'l vowsthey're one and the same. "

Having adjusted the difficulty, Mr. Milford, with a good-bye nod toGeorgina, started on down the street again. Georgina stood looking afterthe rapidly disappearing car. 

"Well, no wonder Uncle Darcy looked so happy, " she thought, recalling hisradiant face. "It was knowing that Danny is alive and well that made itshine so. I wish I'd been along. Wish I could have heard every thing eachone of them said. I could have remembered every single word to tellRichard, but he won't remember even half to tell me. "

It was in the pursuit of all the information which could be pumped out ofRichard that Georgina sought the Green Stairs soon after breakfast nextmorning. Incidentally, she was on her way to a nearby grocery and hadbeen told to hurry. She ran all the way down in order to gain a few extramoments in which to loiter. As usual at this time of morning, Richard wasromping over the terraces with Captain Kidd. 

"Hi, Georgina, " he called, as he spied her coming. "I've got a new game. A new way to play tag. Look. "

Plunging down the steps he held out for her inspection a crystalpaperweight which he had picked up from the library table. Its roundsurface had been cut into many facets, as a diamond is cut to make itflash the light, and the spots of color it threw as he turned it in thesun were rainbow-hued. 

"See, " he explained. "Instead of tagging Captain Kidd with my hand Itouch him with a rainbow, and it's lots harder to do because you can'talways make it light where you want it to go, or where you think it isgoing to fall. I've only tagged him twice so far in all the time I'vebeen trying, because he bobs around so fast. Come on, I'll get you beforeyou tag me, " he added, seeing that her prism hung from the ribbon on herneck. 

She did not wear it every day, but she had felt an especial need for itscomforting this morning, and had put it on as she slowly dressed. Thedifficulty of restoring the eggs loomed up in front of her as a realtrouble, and she needed this to remind her to keep on hoping that someway would soon turn up to end it. 

It was a fascinating game. Such tags are elusive, uncertain things. Thepursuer can never be certain of touching the pursued. Georgina enteredinto it, alert and glowing, darting this way and that to escape beingtouched by the spots of vivid color. Her prism threw it in bars, Richard's in tiny squares and triangles. 

"Let's make them fight!" Richard exclaimed in the midst of it, and for afew moments the color spots flashed across each other like flocks ofdarting birds. Suddenly Georgina stopped, saying:

"Oh, I forgot. I'm on my way to the grocery, and I must hurry back. But Iwanted to ask you two things. One was, tell me all about what the womansaid yesterday, and the other was, think of some way for me to earntwenty cents. There isn't time to hear about the first one now, but thinkright quick and answer the second question. "

She started down the street, skipping backwards slowly, and Richardwalked after her. 

"Aw, I don't know, " he answered in a vague way. "At home when we wantedto make money we always gave a show and charged a penny to get in, or wekept a lemonade stand; but we don't know enough kids here to make thatpay. "

Then he looked out over the water and made a suggestion at random. A boygoing along the beach towards one of the summer cottages with a pail inhis hand, made him think of it. 

"Pick blueberries and sell them. "

"I thought of that, " answered Georgina, still progressing towards thegrocery backward. "And it would be a good time now to slip away whileTippy's busy with the Bazaar. This is the third day. But they've done sowell they're going to keep on with it another day, and they've thought upa lot of new things to-morrow to draw a crowd. One of them is a kind oftalking tableau. I'm to be in it, so it wouldn't do for me to go and getmy hands all stained with berries when I'm to be dressed up as a part ofthe show for the whole town to come and take a look at me. "

Richard had no more suggestions to offer, so with one more flash of theprism and a cry of "last tag, " Georgina turned and started on a run tothe grocery. Richard and the paperweight followed in hot pursuit. 

Up at one of the front windows of the bungalow, two interested spectatorshad been watching the game below. One was Richard's father, the other wasa new guest of Mr. Milford's who had arrived only the night before. Hewas the Mr. Locke who was to take Richard and his father and Cousin Jamesaway on his yacht next morning. He was also a famous illustrator ofjuvenile books, and he sometimes wrote the rhymes and fairy tales himselfwhich he illustrated. Everybody in this town of artists who knew anythingat all of the world of books and pictures outside, knew of Milford NorrisLocke. Now as he watched the graceful passes of the two children dartingback and forth on the board-walk below, he asked:

"Who's the little girl, Moreland? She's the child of my dreams--the veryone I've been hunting for weeks. She has not only the sparkle and spiritthat I want to put into those pictures I was telling you about, but thegrace and the curls and the mischievous eyes as well. Reckon I could gether to pose for me?"

That is how it came about that Georgina found Richard's father waitingfor her at the foot of the Green Stairs when she came running back fromthe grocery. When she went home a few minutes later, she carried with hersomething more than the cake of sweet chocolate that Tippy had sent herfor in such a hurry. It was the flattering knowledge that a famousillustrator had asked to make a sketch of her which would be published ina book if it turned out to be a good one. 

With a sailing party and a studio reception and several other engagementsto fill up his one day in Provincetown, Mr. Locke could give only a partof the morning to the sketches, and wanted to begin as soon as possible. So a few minutes after Georgina went dancing in with the news, hefollowed in Mr. Milford's machine. He arrived so soon after, in fact, that Tippy had to receive him just as she was in her gingham house dressand apron. 

After looking all over the place he took Georgina down to the garden andposed her on a stone bench near the sun-dial, at the end of a tall, bright aisle of hollyhocks. There was no time to waste. 

"We'll pretend you're sitting on the stone rim of a great fountain in theKing's garden, " he said. "You're trying to find some trace of thebeautiful Princess who has been bewitched and carried away to a castleunder the sea, that had 'a ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl. '"

Georgina looked up, delighted that he had used a line from a poem sheloved. It made her feel as if he were an old friend. 

"This is for a fairy tale that has just begun to hatch itself out in mymind, so you see it isn't all quite clear yet. There'll be lily pads inthe fountain. Maybe you can hear what they are saying, or maybe the gold-fish will bring you a message, because you are a little mortal who hassuch a kind heart that you have been given the power to understand thespeech of everything which creeps or swims or flies. "

Georgina leaned over and looked into the imaginary fountain dubiously, forgetting in her interest of the moment that her companion was the greatMilford Norris Locke. She was entering with him into the spirit of hisgame of "pretend" as if he were Richard. 

"No, I'll tell you, " she suggested. "Have it a frog instead of a fishthat brings the message. He can jump right out of that lily pad on to theedge of the fountain where I am sitting, and then when you look at thepicture you can see us talking together. No one could tell what I wasdoing if they saw me just looking down into the fountain, but they couldtell right away if the frog was here and I was shaking my finger at himas if I were saying:

"'Now tell me the truth, Mr. Frog, or the Ogre of the Oozy Marsh shalleat you ere the day be done. '"

"Don't move. Don't move!" called Mr. Locke, excitedly. "Ah, that'sperfect. That's exactly what I want. Hold that pose for a moment or two. Why, Georgina, you've given me exactly what I wanted and a splendid ideabesides. It will give the fairy tale an entirely new turn. If you canonly hold that position a bit longer, then you may rest. "

His pencil flew with magical rapidity and as he sketched he kept ontalking in order to hold the look of intense interest which showed in herglowing face. 

"I dearly love stories like that, " sighed Georgina when he came to theend and told her to lean back and rest a while. 

"Barby--I mean my mother--and I act them all the time, and sometimes wemake them up ourselves. "

"Maybe you'll write them when you grow up, " suggested Mr. Locke notlosing a moment, but sketching her in the position she had taken of herown accord. 

"Maybe I shall, " exclaimed Georgina, thrilled by the thought. "Mygrandfather Shirley said I could write for his paper some day. You knowhe's an editor, down in Kentucky. I'd like to be the editor of a magazinethat children would adore the way I do the _St. Nicholas_. "

Tippy would have said that Georgina was "run-ning on. " But Mr. Locke didnot think so. Children always opened their hearts to him. He held themagic key. Georgina found it easier to tell him her inmost feelings thananybody else in the world but Barby. 

"That's a beautiful game you and Dicky were playing this morning, " heremarked presently, "tagging each other with rainbows. I believe I'll putit into this fairy tale, have the water-nixies do it as they slide overthe water-fall. "

"But it isn't half as nice as the game we play in earnest, " she assuredhim. "In our Rainbow Club we have a sort of game of tag. We tag a personwith a good time, or some kindness to make them happy, and we pretendthat makes a little rainbow in the world. Do you think it does?"

"It makes a very real one, I am sure, " was the serious answer. "Have youmany members?"

"Just Richard and me and the bank president, Mr. Gates, so far, but--butyou can belong--if you'd like to. "

She hesitated a trifle over the last part of her invitation, having justremembered what a famous man she was talking to. He might think she wastaking a liberty even to suggest that he might care to belong. 

"I'd like it very much, " he assured her gravely, "if you think I can liveup to the requirements. "

"Oh, you already have, " she cried. "Think of all the happy hours you havemade for people with your books and pictures--just swarms and bevies and_flocks_ of rainbows! We would have put you on the list of honorarymembers anyhow. Those are the members who don't know they are members, "she explained. "They're just like the prisms themselves. Prisms don'tknow they are prisms but everybody who looks at them sees the beautifulplaces they make in the world. "

"Georgina, " he said solemnly, "that is the very loveliest thing that wasever said to me in all my life. Make me club member number four and I'llplay the game to my very best ability. I'll try to do some tagging reallyworth while. "

He had been sketching constantly all the time he talked, and now, impelled by curiosity, Georgina got up from the stone bench and walkedover to take a look at his work. He had laid aside the several outlinestudies he had made of her, and was now exercising his imagination insketching a ship. 

"This is to be the one that brings the Princess home, and in a minute Iwant you to pose for the Princess, for she is to have curls, long, goldenones, and she is to hold her head as you did a few moments ago when youwere talking about looking off to sea. "

Georgina brought her hands together in a quick gesture as she saidimploringly, "Oh, _do_ put Hope at the prow. Every time I pass theFigurehead House and see Hope sitting up on the portico roof I wish Icould see how she looked when she was riding the waves on the prow of agallant vessel. That's where she ought to be, I heard a man say. He saidHope squatting on a portico roof may look ridiculous, but Hope breastingthe billows is superb. "

[Illustration: Coming across a Sea of Dreams]

Mr. Locke was no stranger in the town. He knew the story of thefigurehead as the townspeople knew it, now he heard its message as UncleDarcy knew it. He listened as intently to Georgina as she had listened tohim. At the end he lifted his head, peering fixedly through half-closedeyes at nothing. 

"You have made me see the most beautiful ship, " he said, musingly. "It isa silver shallop coming across a sea of Dreams, its silken sails setwide, and at the prow is an angel. 'White-handed Hope, thou hoveringangel girt with golden wings, '" he quoted. "Yes, I'll make it with goldenwings sweeping back over the sides this way. See?"

His pencil flew over the paper again, showing her in a few swift strokesan outline of the vision she had given him. And now Tippy would havesaid not only that Georgina was "running on, " but that she was "woundup, " for with such a sympathetic and appreciative listener, she told himthe many things she would have taken to Barby had she been at home. Especially, she talked about her difficulties in living up to the aim ofthe club. In stories there are always poor people whom one can benefit;patient sufferers at hospitals, pallid children of the slums. But in therange of Georgina's life there seemed to be so few opportunities andthose few did not always turn out the way they should. 

For instance, there was the time she tried to cheer Tippy up with her"line to live by, " and her efforts were neither appreciated norunderstood. And there was the time only yesterday when she stayed withAunt Elspeth, and got into trouble with the eggs, and now had a debt onher conscience equal to eight eggs or twenty cents. 

It showed how well Mr. Locke understood children when he did not laughover the recital of that last calamity, although it sounded unspeakablyfunny to him as Georgina told it. In such congenial company the time flewso fast that Georgina was amazed when Mr. Milford drove up to take hisdistinguished guest away. Mr. Locke took with him what he had hoped toget, a number of sketches to fill in at his leisure. 

"They're exactly what I wanted, " he assured her gratefully as he shookhands at parting. "And that suggestion of yours for the ship will makethe most fetching illustration of all. I'll send you a copy in oils whenI get time for it, and I'll always think of you, my little friend, as_Georgina of the Rainbows_. "

With a courtly bow he was gone, and Georgina went into the house to lookfor the little blank book in which she had started to keep her two listsof Club members, honorary and real. The name of Milford Norris Locke shewrote in both lists. If there had been a third list, she would havewritten him down in that as the very nicest gentleman she had ever met. Then she began a letter to Barby, telling all about her wonderfulmorning. But it seemed to her she had barely begun, when Mr. Milford'schauffeur came driving back with something for her in a paper bag. Whenshe peeped inside she was so astonished she nearly dropped it. 

"Eggs!" she exclaimed. Then in unconscious imitation of Mrs. Saggs, sheadded, "Can you beat _that_!"

One by one she took them out and counted them. There were exactly eight. Then she read the card which had dropped down to the bottom of the bag. 

"Mr. Milford Norris Locke. "

Above the name was a tiny rainbow done in water colors, and below wasscribbled the words, "Last tag. "

It was a pity that the new member could not have seen her face at thatinstant, its expression was so eloquent of surprise, of pleasure and ofrelief that her trouble had thus been wiped out of existence. 

Chapter XXIII

Light Dawns for Uncle Darcy

For some time the faint jangle of a bell had been sounding at intervalsfar down the street. Ordinarily it would have caught Georgina's attentionlong before this, but absorbed in the letter to which she had returnedafter putting the eggs down cellar, she did not hear the ringing until itwas near enough for the Towncrier's message to be audible also. He wasannouncing the extra day of the Bazaar, and calling attention to the manynew attractions it would have to offer on the morrow. 

Instantly, Georgina dropped her pencil and flew out to meet him. Here wasan opportunity to find out all about the Brewster trip. As he cametowards her she saw the same look in his weather-beaten old face whichshe had wondered at the day before, when he was bending over AuntElspeth, patting her on the cheek. It was like the shining of a newly-lighted candle. 

She was not the only one who had noticed it. All the way up the streetglances had followed him. People turned for a second look, wondering whatgood fortune had befallen the old fellow. They had come to expect acheery greeting from him. He always left a kindly glow behind himwhenever he passed. But to-day the cheeriness was so intensified that heseemed to be brimming over with good will to everybody. 

"Why, Uncle Darcy!" cried Georgina. "You look so happy!"

"Well, is it any wonder, lass, with such news from Danny? Him alive andwell and sure to come back to me some of these days! I could hardly keepfrom shouting it out to everybody as I came along the street. I'm afraidit'll just naturally tell itself some day, in spite of my promise toBelle. I'm glad I can let off steam up here, you knowing the secret, too, for this old heart of mine is just about to burst with all the gladnessthat's inside of me. "

Here was someone as anxious to tell as she was to hear; someone who couldrecall every word of the interview with the wild-cat woman. Georginaswung on to his arm which held the bell, and began to ask questions, andnothing loath, he let her lead him into the yard and to the rustic seatrunning around the trunk of the big willow tree. He was ready to rest, now that his route was traveled and his dollar earned. 

Belle, back in the kitchen, preparing a light dinner for herself andGeorgina, Tippy being away for the day, did not see him come in. She hadnot seen him since the day the old rifle gave up its secret, and shetried to put him out of her mind as much as possible, for she wasmiserable every time she thought of him. She would have been still moremiserable could she have heard all that he was saying to Georgina. 

"Jimmy Milford thought that the liniment folks calling the boy 'Dave, 'proved that he wasn't the same as my Danny. But just one thing would havesettled all doubts for me if I'd a had any. That was what he kept acalling in his fever when he was out of his head: 'Belle mustn't suffer. Belle must be spared, no matter what happens!'

"And that's the one thing that reconciles me to keeping still a whilelonger. It was his wish to spare her, and if he could sacrifice so muchto do it, I can't make his sacrifice seem in vain. I lay awake last nighttill nearly daylight, thinking how I'd like to take this old bell ofmine, and go from one end of the town to the other, ringing it till itcracked, crying out, _'Danny is innocent, _' to the whole world. Butthe time hasn't come yet. I'll have to be patient a while longer and bearup the best I can. "

Georgina, gazing fixedly ahead of her at nothing in particular, ponderedseriously for a long, silent moment. 

"If you did that, " she said finally, "cried the good news through thetown till everybody knew--then when people found out that it was EmmettPotter who was the thief and that he was too much of a coward to own upand take the blame--would they let the monument go on standing there, that they'd put up to show he was brave? It would serve him right if theytook it down, wouldn't it!" she exclaimed with a savage little scowldrawing her brows together. 

"No, no, child!" he said gently. "Give the lad his due. He _was_brave that one time. He saved all those lives as it is chiseled on hisheadstone. It is better he should be remembered for the best act in hislife than for the worst one. A man's measure should be taken when he'sstretched up to his full height, just as far as he can lift up his head;not when he's stooped to the lowest. It's only fair to judge either theliving or the dead that way. "

For some time after that nothing more was said. The harbor was full ofboats this morning. It was a sight worth watching. One naturally driftedinto day-dreams, following the sweep of the sails moving silently towardthe far horizon. Georgina was busy picturing a home-coming scene thatmade the prodigal son's welcome seem mild in comparison, when Uncle Darcystartled her by exclaiming:

"Oh, it _pays_ to bear up and steer right onward! S'pose I hadn'tdone that. S'pose I _hadn't_ kept Hope at the prow. I believe I'dhave been in my grave by this time with all the grief and worry. Butnow----"

He stopped and shook his head, unable to find words to express theemotion which was making his voice tremble and his face glow with thatwonderful inner shining. Georgina finished the sentence for him, lookingout on the sail-filled harbor and thinking of the day he had taken herout in his boat to tell her of his son. 

"But now you'll be all ready and waiting when your ship comes home fromsea with its precious cargo. " They were his own words she was repeating. 

"Danny'll weather the storms at last and come into port with all flagsflying. "

The picture her words suggested was too much for the old father. He puthis hat up in front of his face, and his shoulders shook with silentsobs. Georgina laid a sympathetic little hand on the rough sleeve nexther. Suddenly the sails in the harbor seemed to run together all blurryand queer. She drew her hand across her eyes and looked again at theheaving shoulders. A happiness so deep that it found its expression thatway, filled her with awe. It must be the kind of happiness that peoplefelt when they reached "the shining shore, the other side, of Jordan, "and their loved ones came down to welcome them "into their desiredhaven. "

That last phrase came to her lips like a bit of remembered music andunconsciously she repeated it aloud. Uncle Darcy heard it, and looked up. His cheeks were wet when he put down his hat, but it was the happiestface she had ever seen, and there was no shake in his voice now when hesaid solemnly:

"And nobody but the good Lord who's helped his poor sailors throughshipwreck and storm, knows how mightily they've desired that haven, orwhat it means to them to be brought into it. "

A delivery wagon from one of the fruit stores stopped in front of thegate, and the driver came in, carrying a basket. Uncle Darcy spoke to himas he passed the willow tree. 

"Well, Joe, this looks like a chance for me to get a lift most of the wayhome. "

"Sure, " was the cordial reply. "Climb in. I'll be right back. "

Georgina thought of something as he rose to go. 

"Oh, wait just a minute, Uncle Darcy, I want to get something of yoursthat's down cellar. "

When she came back there was no time or opportunity for an explanation. He and the driver were both in the wagon. She reached up and put the bagon the seat beside him. 

"I--I did something to some of your eggs, yesterday, " she stammered, "andthese are to take the place of the ones I broke. "

Uncle Darcy peered into the bag with a puzzled expression. He had notmissed any eggs from the crock of bran. He didn't know what she wastalking about. But before he could ask any questions the driver slappedthe horse with the reins, and they were rattling off down street. Georgina stood looking after them a moment, then turned her head tolisten. Somebody was calling her. It was Belle, who had come to the frontdoor to say that dinner was ready. 

Whenever Mrs. Triplett was at home, Belle made extra efforts to talk andappear interested in what was going on around her. She was afraid herkeen-eyed Aunt Maria would see that she was unhappy. But alone withGeorgina who shared her secret, she relapsed into a silence so deep itcould be felt, responding only with a wan smile when the child's livelychatter seemed to force an answer of some kind. But to-day when Georginacame to the table she was strangely silent herself, so mute that Bellenoticed it, and found that she was being furtively watched by the bigbrown eyes opposite her. Every time Belle looked up she caught Georgina'sgaze fastened on her, and each time it was immediately transferred to herplate. 

"What's the matter, Georgina?" she asked finally. "Why do you keepstaring at me?"

Georgina flushed guiltily. "Nothing, " was the embarrassed answer. "I wasjust wondering whether to tell you or not. I thought maybe you'd like toknow, and maybe you ought to know, but I wasn't sure whether you'd wantme to talk to you about it or not. "

Belle put down her tea-cup. It was her turn to stare. 

"For goodness' sake! What _are_ you beating around the bush about?"

"About the news from Danny, " answered Georgina. "About the letter hewrote to the wild-cat woman and that got buried in the dunes too deepever to be dug up again. "

As this was the first Belle had heard of either the letter or the woman, her expression of astonishment was all that Georgina could desire. Hernews had made a sensation. Belle showed plainly that she was startled, and as eager to hear as Georgina was to tell. So she began at thebeginning, from the time of the opening of the pouch on the Green Stairs, to the last word of the wild-cat woman's conversation which Uncle Darcyhad repeated to her only a few moments before under the willow. 

Instinctively, she gave the recital a dramatic touch which made Bellefeel almost like an eye witness as she listened. And it was with UncleDarcy's own gestures and manner that she repeated his final statement. 

"Jimmy Milford thought the liniment folks calling the boy Dave proved hewasn't the same as my Danny. But just one thing would have settled alldoubts for me if I'd had any. That was what he kept a calling in hisfever when he was out of his head: '_Belle_ mustn't suffer. _Belle_ must be spared no matter what happens. '"

At the bringing of her own name into the story Belle gave a perceptiblestart and a tinge of red crept into her pale cheeks. 

"Did he say that, Georgina?" she demanded, leaning forward and looking ather intently. "Are you sure those are his exact words?"

"His very-own-exactly-the-same words, " declared Georgina solemnly. "Icross my heart and body they're just as Uncle Darcy told them to me. "

Rising from the table, Belle walked over to the window and stood with herback to Georgina, looking out into the garden. 

"Well, and what next?" she demanded in a queer, breathless sort of way. 

"And then Uncle Darcy said that his saying that was the one thing thatmade him feel willing to keep still a while longer about--you know--whatwas in the rifle. 'Cause if Danny cared enough about sparing you to giveup home and his good name and everything else in life he couldn't spoilit all by telling now. But Uncle Darcy said he lay awake nearly all lastnight thinking how he'd love to take that old bell of his and go ringingit through the town till it cracked, calling out to the world, 'My boy isinnocent. '

"And when I said something about it's all coming out all right some day, and that Danny would weather the storms and come into port with all flagsflying----" Here Georgina lowered her voice and went on slowly as if shehesitated to speak of what happened next--"he just put his old hat overhis face and cried. And I felt so sorry----"

Georgina's voice choked. There were tears in her eyes as she spoke of thescene. 

"_Don't_!" groaned Belle, her back still turned. 

The note of distress in Belle's voice stilled Georgina's lively tongue afew seconds, but there was one more thing in her mind to be said, andwith the persistence of a mosquito she returned to the subject to givethat final stab, quite unconscious of how deeply it would sting. She wasonly wondering aloud, something which she had often wondered to herself. 

"I should think that when anybody had suffered as long as Danny has tospare you, it would make you want to spare him. Doesn't it? I shouldthink that you'd want to do something to sort of make up to him for itall. Don't you?"

"Oh, _don't_!" exclaimed Belle again, sharply this time. Then toGeorgina's utter amazement she buried her face in her apron, stoodsobbing by the window a moment, and ran out of the room. She did not comedownstairs again until nearly supper time. 

Georgina sat at the table, not knowing what to do next. She felt that shehad muddled things dreadfully. Instead of making Belle feel better as shehoped to do, she realized she had hurt her in some unintentional way. Presently, she slowly drew herself up from her chair and began to clearthe table, piling the few dishes they had used, under the dish-pan in thesink. The house stood open to the summer breeze. It seemed so desolateand deserted with Belle upstairs, drawn in alone with her troubles andTippy away, that she couldn't bear to stay in the silent rooms. Shewandered out into the yard and climbed up into the willow to look acrossthe water. 

Somewhere out there on those shining waves, Richard was sailing along, inthe party given for Mr. Locke, and to-morrow he would be going away onthe yacht. If he were at home she wouldn't be up in the willow wonderingwhat to do next. Well, as long as she couldn't have a good time herselfshe'd think of someone else she could make happy. For several minutes shesent her thoughts wandering over the list of all the people she knew, butit seemed as if her friends were capable of making their own good times, all except poor Belle. Probably _she_ never would be happy again, nomatter what anybody did to try to brighten her life. It was sodiscouraging when one was trying to play the game of "Rainbow Tag, " forthere to be no one to tag. She wished she knew some needy person, someunfortunate soul who would be glad of her efforts to make them happy. 

Once she thought of slipping off down street to the library. Miss Tupmanalways let her go in where the shelves were and choose her own book. MissTupman was always so interesting, too, more than any of the books whenshe had time to talk. But that grim old word Duty rose up in front ofher, telling her that she ought not to run away and leave the house allopen with Belle locked in her room upstairs. Somebody ought to be withinhearing if the telephone rang or anyone came. She went into the house fora book which she had read many times but which never failed to interesther, and curled up in a big rocking chair on the front porch. 

Late in the afternoon she smelled burning pine chips and smoke from thekitchen chimney which told that a fire was being started in the stove. After a while she went around the house to the kitchen door and peepedin, apprehensively. Belle was piling the dinner dishes into the pan, preparatory to washing them while supper was cooking. Her eyes were redand she did not look up when Georgina came in, but there was an air ofsilent determination about her as forcible as her Aunt Maria's. Pickingup the tea-kettle, she filled the dishpan and carried the kettle back tothe stove, setting it down hard before she spoke. Then she said:

"Nobody'll ever know what I've been through with, fighting this thing outwith myself. I can't go all the way yet. I can't say the word that'll letthe blow fall on poor old Father Potter. But I don't seem to care aboutmy part of it any more. I see things differently from what I did thatfirst day--you know. Even Emmett don't seem the same any more. "

For several minutes there was a rattling of dishes, but no further speechfrom Belle. Georgina, not knowing what to say or do, stood poiseduncertainly on the door-sill. Then Belle spoke again. 

"I'm willing it should be told if only it could be kept from getting backto Father Potter, for the way Dan's done _does_ make me want to sethim square with the world. I would like to make up to him in some way forall he's suffered on my account. I can't get over it that it was_him_ that had all the bravery and the nobleness that I was fairlyworshiping in Emmett all these years. Seems like the whole world hasturned upside down. "

Georgina waited a long time, but Belle seemed to have said all that sheintended to say, so presently she walked over and stood beside the sink. 

"Belle, " she said slowly, "does what you said mean that you're reallywilling I should tell Barby? Right away?"

Belle waited an instant before replying, then taking a deep breath as ifabout to make a desperate plunge into a chasm on whose brink she had longbeen poised, said:

"Yes. Uncle Dan'l would rather have her know than anybody else. He setssuch store by her good opinion. But oh, _do_ make it plain itmustn't be talked about outside, so's it'll get back to Father Potter. "

The next instant Georgina's arms were around her in a silent but joyfulsqueeze, and she ran upstairs to write to Barby before the sun should godown or Tippy get back from the Bazaar. 

Chapter XXIV

A Contrast in Fathers

 Georgina was having a beautiful day. It was the first time she had evertaken part in a Bazaar, and so important was the role assigned her thatshe was in a booth all by herself. Moreover, the little mahogany chair inwhich she sat was on a high platform inside the booth, so that all mightbehold her. Dressed in a quaint old costume borrowed from the chests inthe Figurehead House, she represented "A Little Girl of Long Ago. "

On a table beside her stood other borrowed treasures from the FigureheadHouse--a doll bedstead made by an old sea captain on one of his voyages. Each of its high posts was tipped with a white point, carved from thebone of a whale. Wonderful little patchwork quilts, a feather bed andtiny pillows made especially for the bed, were objects of interest toeveryone who crowded around the booth. So were the toys and dishesbrought home from other long cruises by the same old sea captain, whoevidently was an indulgent father and thought often of the littledaughter left behind in the home port. A row of dolls dressed in fashionshalf a century old were also on exhibition. 

With unfailing politeness Georgina explained to the curious summer peoplewho thronged around her, that they all belonged in the house where thefigurehead of Hope sat on the portico roof, and were not for sale at anyprice. 

Until to-day Georgina had been unconscious that she possessed any unusualpersonal charms, except her curls. Her attention had been called to themfrom the time she was old enough to understand remarks people made aboutthem as she passed along the street. Their beauty would have been a greatpleasure to her if Tippy had not impressed upon her the fact that lookingin the mirror makes one vain, and it's wicked to be vain. One way inwhich Tippy guarded her against the sin of vanity was to mention some ofher bad points, such as her mouth being a trifle too large, or her nosenot quite so shapely as her mother's, each time anyone unwisely calledattention to her "glorious hair. "

Another way was to repeat a poem from a book called "Songs for the LittleOnes at Home, " the same book which had furnished the "Landing of thePilgrims" and "Try, Try Again. " It began:

 "What! Looking in the glass again? Why's my silly child so vain?"_

The disgust, the surprise, the scorn of Tippy's voice when she repeatedthat was enough to make one hurry past a mirror in shame-facedembarrassment. 

 "Beauty soon will fade away. Your rosy cheeks must soon decay. There's nothing lasting you will find, But the treasures of the mind. "

Rosy cheeks might not be lasting, but it was certainly pleasant toGeorgina to hear them complimented so continually by passers-by. Sometimes the remarks were addressed directly to her. 

"My _dear_, " said one enthusiastic admirer, "if I could only buy_you_ and put you in a gold frame, I'd have a prettier picture thanany artist in town can paint. " Then she turned to a companion to add:"Isn't she a love in that little poke bonnet with the row of rose-budsinside the rim? I never saw such exquisite coloring or such gorgeouseyes. "

Georgina blushed and looked confused as she smoothed the long lace mittsover her arms. But by the time the day was over she had heard thesentiment repeated so many times that she began to expect it and to feelvaguely disappointed if it were not forthcoming from each new group whichapproached her. 

Another thing gave her a new sense of pleasure and enriched her day. Onthe table beside her, under a glass case, to protect it from carelesshandling, was a little blank book which contained the records of thefirst sewing circle in Provincetown. The book lay open, displaying a pageof the minutes, and a column of names of members, written in anexquisitely fine and beautiful hand. The name of Georgina's great-greatgrandmother was in that column. It gave her a feeling of being well bornand distinguished to be able to point it out. 

The little book seemed to reinforce and emphasize the claims of themonument and the silver porringer. She felt it was so nice to bebeautiful and to belong; to have belonged from the beginning both to afirst family and a first sewing circle. 

Still another thing added to her contentment whenever the recollection ofit came to her. There was no longer any secret looming up between her andBarby like a dreadful wall. The letter telling all about the wonderfuland exciting things which had happened in her absence was already on itsway to Kentucky. It was not a letter to be proud of. It was scrawled asfast as she could write it with a pencil, and she knew perfectly wellthat a dozen or more words were misspelled, but she couldn't take time tocorrect them, or to think of easy words to put in their places. But Barbywouldn't care. She would be so happy for Uncle Darcy's sake and sointerested in knowing that her own little daughter had had an importantpart in finding the good news that she wouldn't notice the spelling orthe scraggly writing. 

As the day wore on, Georgina, growing more and more satisfied withherself and her lot, felt that there was no one in the whole world withwhom she would change places. Towards the last of the afternoon a groupof people came in whom Georgina recognized as a family from the Gray Inn. They had been at the Inn several days, and she had noticed them each timeshe passed them, because the children seemed on such surprisinglyintimate terms with their father. That he was a naval officer she knewfrom the way he dressed, and that he was on a long furlough she knew fromsome remark which she overheard. 

He had a grave, stern face, and when he came into the room he gave asearching glance from left to right as if to take notice of every objectin it. His manner made Georgina think of "Casabianca, " another poem ofTippy's teaching:

 "He stood As born to rule the storm. A creature of heroic blood, A brave though . . . . . . . Form. "

"Childlike" was the word she left out because it did not fit in thiscase. "A brave and manlike form" would be better. She repeated the verseto herself with this alteration. 

When he spoke to his little daughter or she spoke to him his expressionchanged so wonderfully that Georgina watched him with deep interest. Theoldest boy was with them. He was about fourteen and as tall as hismother. He was walking beside her but every few steps he turned to saysomething to the others, and they seemed to be enjoying some joketogether. Somebody who knew them came up as they reached the booth of"The Little Girl of Long Ago, " and introduced them to Georgina, so shefound out their names. It was Burrell. He was a Captain, and the childrenwere Peggy and Bailey. 

As Georgina looked down at Peggy from the little platform where she satin the old mahogany chair, she thought with a throb of satisfaction thatshe was glad she didn't have to change places with that homely littlething. Evidently, Peggy was just up from a severe illness. Her hair hadbeen cut so short one could scarcely tell the color of it. She was sothin and white that her eyes looked too large for her face and her necktoo slender for her head, and the freckles which would scarcely haveshown had she been her usual rosy self, stood out like big brown spotcheson her pallid little face. She limped a trifle too, as she walked. 

With a satisfied consciousness of her own rose leaf complexion, Georginawas almost patronizing as she bent over the table to say graciously oncemore after countless number of times, "no, that is not for sale. "

The next instant Peggy was swinging on her father's arm exclaiming, "Oh, Dad-o'-my-heart! See that cunning doll bathing suit. Please get it forme. " Almost in the same breath Bailey, jogging the Captain's elbow on theother side, exclaimed, "Look, Partner, _that's_ a relic worthhaving. "

Georgina listened, fascinated. To think of calling one's father "Dad-o'-my-heart" or "Partner!" And they looked up at him as if they adored him, even that big boy, nearly grown. And a sort of laugh come into theCaptain's eyes each time they spoke to him, as if he thought everythingthey said and did was perfect. 

A wave of loneliness swept over Georgina as she listened. There was anempty spot in her heart that ached with longing--not for Barby, but forthe father whom she had never known in this sweet intimate way. She knewnow how if felt to be an orphan. What satisfaction was there in havingbeautiful curls if no big, kind hand ever passed over them in a fatherlycaress such as was passing over Peggy Burrell's closely-clipped head?What pleasure was there in having people praise you if they said behindyour back:

"Oh, that's Justin Huntingdon's daughter. Don't you think a man wouldwant to come home once or twice in a lifetime to such a lovely child asthat?"

Georgina had heard that very remark earlier in the day, also the answergiven with a significant shrug of the shoulders:

"Oh, he has other fish to fry. "

The remarks had not annoyed her especially at the time, but they ranklednow as she recalled them. They hurt until they took all the pleasure andsatisfaction out of her beautiful day, just as the sun, going under acloud, leaves the world bereft of all its shine and sparkle. She lookedaround, wishing it were time to go home. 

Presently, Captain Burrell, having made the rounds of the room, came backto Georgina. He smiled at her so warmly that she wondered that she couldhave thought his face was stern. 

"They tell me that you are Doctor Huntingdon's little girl, " he said witha smile that went straight to her heart. "So I've come back to ask youall about him. Where is he now and how is he? You see I have an especialinterest in your distinguished father. He pulled me through a fever inthe Philippines that all but ended me. I have reason to remember him forhis many, many kindnesses to me at that time. "

The flush that rose to Georgina's face might naturally have been takenfor one of pride or pleasure, but it was only miserable embarrassment atnot being able to answer the Captain's questions. She could not bear toconfess that she knew nothing of her father's whereabouts except thevague fact that he was somewhere in the interior of China, and that therehad been no letter from him for months and that she had not seen him fornearly four years. 

"He--he was well the last time we heard from him, " she managed tostammer. "But I haven't heard anything lately. You know my mother isn'thome now. She went to Kentucky because my grandfather Shirley was hurt inan accident. "

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, " was the answer in a cordial, sympatheticvoice. "I hoped to have the pleasure of meeting her and I wanted Mrs. Burrell to know her, too. But I hope you'll come over to the Inn and playwith Peggy sometimes. We'll be here another week. "

Georgina thanked him in her prettiest manner, but she was relieved whenhe passed on, and she was freed from the fear of any more embarrassingquestions about her father. Yet her hand still tingled with thefriendliness of his good-bye clasp, and she wished that she could knowhim better. As she watched him pass out of the door with Peggy holdinghis hand and swinging it as they walked, she thought hungrily:

"How good it must seem to have a father like _that_. "

Mrs. Triplett came up to her soon after. It was time to close the Bazaar. The last probable customer had gone, and the ladies in charge of thebooths were beginning to dismantle them. Someone's chauffeur was waitingto take Georgina's costume back to the Figurehead House. 

She followed Mrs. Triplett obediently into an improvised dressing-room inthe corner, behind a tall screen, and in a very few minutes was about toemerge clad in her own clothes, when Mrs. Triplett exclaimed:

"For pity sakes! Those gold beads!"

Georgina's hand went up to the string of gold beads still around herneck. They also were borrowed from Mrs. Tupman of the Figurehead House. 

"I was going to ask Mrs. Tupman to take them home herself, " said Mrs. Triplett, "but she left earlier than I thought she would, and I had nochance to say anything about them. We oughtn't to trust anything asvaluable as gold beads that are an heirloom to any outsider, no matterhow honest. They might be lost. Suppose you just _wear_ them home toher. Do you feel like doing that? And keep them on your neck till sheunclasps them with her own hands. Don't leave them with a servant. "

Georgina, tired of sitting all day in the booth, was glad of an excusefor a long walk. It was almost six o'clock, but the sun was still high. As she went along, jostled off the narrow sidewalk and back on to itagain every few steps by the good-natured crowd which swarmed the streetsat this hour, she could smell supper cooking in the houses along the way. It would be delayed in many homes because the tide was in and people wererunning down the beach from the various cottages for a dip into the sea. Some carried their bathing suits in bundles, some wore them underraincoats or dressing gowns, and some walked boldly along bare-armed andbare-legged in the suits themselves. 

It was a gay scene, with touches of color in every direction. Vivid greengrass in all the door-yards, masses of roses and hollyhocks and clematisagainst the clean white of the houses. Color of every shade in the capsand sweaters and bathing suits and floating motor veils and parasols, jolly laughter everywhere, and friendly voices calling back and forthacross the street. It was a holiday town full of happy holiday people. 

Georgina, skipping along through the midst of it, added another prettytouch of color to the scene, with her blue ribbons and hat with theforget-me-nots around it, but if her thoughts could have been seen, theywould have showed a sober drab. The meeting with Captain Burrell had lefther depressed and unhappy. The thought uppermost in her mind was whyshould there be such a difference in fathers? Why should Peggy Burrellhave such an adorable one, and she be left to feel like an orphan?

When she reached the Figurehead House she was told that Mrs. Tupman hadstepped out to a neighbor's for a few minutes but would be right back. She could have left the beads with a member of the family, but havingbeen told to deliver them into the hands of the owner only, she sat downin the swing in the yard to wait. 

From where she sat she could look up at the figurehead over the portico. It was the best opportunity she had ever had for studying it closely. Always before she had been limited to the few seconds that were hers inwalking or driving by. Now she could sit and gaze at it intently as shepleased. 

The fact that it was weather-stained and dark as an Indian with the paintworn off its face in patches, only enhanced its interest in her eyes. Itseemed to bear the scars of one who has suffered and come up throughgreat tribulation. No matter how battered this Lady of Mystery was inappearance, to Georgina she still stood for "Hope, " clinging to herwreath, still facing the future with head held high, the symbol of allthose, who having ships at sea, watch and wait for their home-coming withproud, undaunted courage. 

Only an old wooden image, but out of a past of shipwreck and storm itsmessage survived and in some subtle manner found its way into the heartof Georgina. 

"And I'll do it, too, " she resolved valiantly, looking up at it. "I'mgoing to hope so hard that he'll be the way I want him to be, that he'lljust _have_ to. And if he isn't--then I'll just steer straightonward as if I didn't mind it, so Barby'll never know how disappointed Iam. Barby must never know that. "

A few minutes later, the gold beads being delivered into Mrs. Tupman'sown hands, Georgina took her way homeward, considerably lighter of heart, for those moments of reflection in the swing. As she passed the antiqueshop a great gray cat on the door-step, rose and stretched itself. 

"Nice kitty!" she said, stopping to smooth the thick fur which stood upas he arched his back. 

It was "Grandpa, " to whose taste for fish she owed her prism and the bitof philosophy which was to brighten not only her own life but all thosewhich touched hers. But she passed on, unconscious of her debt to him. 

When she reached the Gray Inn she walked more slowly, for on the beachback of it she saw several people whom she recognized. Captain Burrellwas in the water with Peggy and Bailey and half a dozen other childrenfrom the Inn. They were all splashing and laughing. They seemed to behaving some sort of a game. She stood a moment wishing that she had onher bathing suit and was down in the water with them. She could swimbetter than any of the children there. But she hadn't been in the seasince Barby left. That was one of the things she promised in their darkhour of parting, not to go in while Barby was gone. 

While she stood there, Mrs. Burrell came out on the piazza of the Inn, followed by the colored nurse with the baby who was just learning towalk. The Captain, seeing them, threw up his hand to signal them. Mrs. Burrell fluttered her handkerchief in reply. 

Georgina watched the group in the water a moment longer, then turned andwalked slowly on. She felt that if she could do it without having to giveup Barby, she'd be willing to change places with Peggy Burrell. She'dtake her homely little pale, freckled face, straight hair and--yes, evenher limp, for the right to cling to that strong protecting shoulder asPeggy was doing there in the water, and to whisper in his ear, "Dad-o-my-heart. "

Chapter XXV

A Letter to Hong-Kong

 There are some subjects one hesitates to discuss with one's family. Itis easier to seek information from strangers or servants, who do not feelfree to come back at you with the disconcerting question, "But why do youask?"

It was with the half-formed resolution of leading up to a certain one ofthese difficult subjects if she could, that Georgina wandered down thebeach next morning to a little pavilion near the Gray Inn. It wasoccupied by Peggy Burrell, her baby brother and the colored nurseMelindy. 

Georgina, sorely wanting companionship now that Richard and Captain Kiddwere off on their yachting trip, was thankful that Mrs. Triplett had metCaptain Burrell the day before at the Bazaar, and had agreed with himthat Georgina and Peggy ought to be friends because their fathers were. Otherwise, the occupants of the pavilion would have been counted asundesirable playmates being outside the pale of her acquaintance. 

Peggy welcomed her joyfully. She wasn't strong enough yet to go off on awhole morning's fishing trip with brother and Daddy, she told Georgina, and her mother was playing bridge on the hotel piazza. Peggy was a littlething, only eight, and Georgina not knowing what to do to entertain her, resurrected an old play that she had not thought of for several summers. She built Grandfather Shirley's house in the sand. 

It took so long to find the right kind of shells with which to make thelanterns for the gate-posts, and to gather the twigs of bayberry andbeach plum for the avenues (she had to go into the dunes for them), thatthe question she was intending to ask Melindy slipped from her mind for awhile. It came back to her, however, as she scooped a place in the wallof pebbles and wet sand which stood for the fence. 

"Here's the place where the postman drops the mail. "

Then she looked up at Melindy, the question on the tip of her tongue. ButPeggy, on her knees, was watching her so intently that she seemed to belooking straight into her mouth every time it opened, and her couragefailed her. Instead of saying what she had started to say, she exclaimed:

"Here's the hole in the fence where the little pigs squeezed through. "Then she told the story that went with this part of the game. When it wastime to put in the bee-hives, however, and Peggy volunteered to look upand down the beach for the right kind of a pebble to set the bee-hiveson, Georgina took advantage of the moment alone with Melindy. Therewasn't time to lead up to the question properly. There wasn't even timeto frame the question in such a way that it would seem a casual, matter-of-course one. Georgina was conscious that the blood was surging up intoher cheeks until they must seem as red as fire. She leaned forward towardthe sand-pile she was shaping till her curls fell over her face. Then sheblurted out:

"How often do husbands write to wives?"

Melindy either did not hear or did not understand, and Georgina had themortifying experience of repeating the question. It was harder to giveutterance to it the second time than the first. She was relieved whenMelindy answered without showing any surprise. 

"Why, most every week I reckon, when they loves 'em. Leastways whitefolks do. It comes easy to them to write. An' I lived in one place wherethe lady got a lettah every othah day. "

"But I mean when the husband's gone for a long, long time, off to sea orto another country, and is dreadfully busy, like Captain Burrell is whenhe's on his ship. "

Melindy gave a short laugh. "Huh! Let me tell you, honey, when a man_wants_ to write he's gwine to write, busy or no busy. "

Later, Georgina went home pondering Melindy's answer. "Most every weekwhen they love's 'em. Sometimes every other day. " And Barby had had noletter for over four months. 

Something happened that afternoon which had never happened before in allGeorgina's experience. She was taken to the Gray Inn to call. Mrs. Triplett, dressed in her new black summer silk, took her. 

"As long as Barbara isn't here to pay some attention to that Mrs. Burrell, " Tippy said to Belle, "it seems to me it's my place as next ofkin. The Captain couldn't get done saying nice things about Justin. "

Evidently, she approved of both Mrs. Burrell and Peggy, for when eachbegged that Georgina be allowed to stay to supper she graciously gavepermission. 

"Peggy has taken the wildest fancy to you, dear, " Mrs. Burrell said in anaside to Georgina. "You gave her a beautiful morning on the beach. Thepoor little thing has suffered so much with her lame knee, that we aregrateful to anyone who makes her forget all that she has gone through. It's only last week that she could have the brace taken off. She hasn'tbeen able to run and play like other children for two years, but we'rehoping she may outgrow the trouble in time. "

The dining-room of the Gray Inn overlooked thel sea, and was so close tothe water one had the feeling of being in a boat, when looking out of itswindows. There were two South American transports in the harbor. Some ofthe officers had come ashore and were dining with friends at the GrayInn. Afterwards they stayed to dance a while in the long parlor with theyoung ladies of the party. Peggy and Georgina sat on the piazza justoutside one of the long French windows, where they could watch the gayscene inside. It seemed almost as gay outside, when one turned to lookacross the harbor filled with moving lights. Captain and Mrs. Burrellwere outside also. They sat farther down the piazza, near the railing, talking to one of the officers who was not dancing. Once when the musicstopped, Peggy turned to Georgina to say:

"Do you hear Daddy speaking Spanish to that officer from South America?Doesn't he do it well? I can understand a little of what they say becausewe lived in South America a while last year. We join him whenever he isstationed at a port where officers can take their families. He says thatchildren of the navy have to learn to be regular gypsies. I love going tonew places. How many languages can your father speak?"

Georgina, thus suddenly questioned, felt that she would rather die thanacknowledge that she knew so little of her father that she could notanswer. She was saved the mortification of confessing it, however, by themusic striking up again at that moment. 

"Oh, I can play that!" she exclaimed. "That's the dance of the tarantula. Isn't it a weird sort of thing?"

The air of absorbed interest with which Georgioa turned to listen to themusic made Peggy forget her question, and listen in the same way. Shewanted to do everything in the same way that Georgina did it, and fromthat moment that piece of music held special charm for her becauseGeorgina called it weird. 

The next time Georgina glanced down the piazza Mrs. Burrell was alone. Inher dimly-lighted corner, she looked like one of the pretty summer girlsone sees sometimes on a magazine cover. She was all in white with a paleblue wrap of some kind about her that was so soft and fleecy it lookedlike a pale blue cloud. Georgina found herself looking down that wayoften, with admiring glances. She happened to have her eyes turned thatway when the Captain came back and stood beside her chair. The blue wraphad slipped from her shoulders without her notice, and he stooped andpicked it up. Then he drew the soft, warm thing up around her, andbending over, laid his cheek for just an instant against hers. 

It was such a fleeting little caress that no one saw but Georgina, andshe turned her eyes away instantly, feeling that she had no right tolook, yet glad that she had seen, because of the warm glow it sentthrough her. She couldn't tell why, but somehow the world seemed ahappier sort of place for everybody because such things happened in it. 

"I wonder, " she thought wistfully, as her eyes followed the gracefulsteps of the foreign dancers and her thoughts stayed with what she hadjust witnessed, "I wonder if that had been Barby and my father, would_he_?"----

But she did not finish even to herself the question which rose up toworry her. It came back every time she recalled the little scene. 

On the morning after her visit to the Gray Inn she climbed up on thepiano stool when she had finished practising her scales. She wanted acloser view of the portrait which hung over it. It was an oil painting ofher father at the age of five. He wore kilts and little socks with plaidtops, and he carried a white rabbit in his arms. Georgina knew every inchof the canvas, having admired it from the time she was first held up toit in someone's arms to "see the pretty bunny. " Now she looked at it longand searchingly. 

Then she opened the book-case and took out an old photograph album. Therewere several pictures of her father in that. One taken with his HighSchool class, and one with a group of young medical students, and one inthe white service dress of an assistant surgeon of the navy. None of themcorresponded with her dim memory of him. 

Then she went upstairs to Barby's room, and stood before the bureau, studying the picture upon it in a large silver frame. It was taken in astanding position and had been carefully colored, so that she knewaccurately every detail of the dress uniform of a naval surgeon from thestripes of gold lace and maroon velvet on the sleeves, to the eagle onthe belt buckle and the sword knot dangling over the scabbard. There werevarious medals pinned on his breast which had always interested her. 

But this morning it was not the uniform or the decorations which claimedher attention. It was the face itself. She was looking for something inthe depths of those serious dark eyes, that she had seen in CaptainBurrell's when he looked at Peggy; something more than a smile, somethingthat made his whole face light up till you felt warm and happy just tolook at him. She wondered if the closely-set lips she was studying couldcurve into a welcoming smile if anybody ran to meet him with happyoutstretched arms. But the picture was baffling and disappointing, because it was a profile view. 

Presently, she picked it up and carried it to her own room, placing it onthe table where she always sat to write. She had screwed up her courageat last, to the point of writing the letter which long ago she haddecided ought to be written by somebody. 

Once Barby said, "When you can't think of anything to put in a letter, look at the person's picture, and pretend you're talking to it. " Georginafollowed that advice now. But one cannot talk enthusiastically to alistener who continues to show you only his profile. 

Suddenly, her resentment flamed hot against this handsome, averted facewhich was all she knew of a father. She thought bitterly that he had nobusiness to be such a stranger to her that she didn't even know what helooked like when he smiled. Something of the sternness of her old Pilgrimforbears crept into her soul as she sat there judging him and biting theend of her pen. She glanced down at the sheet of paper on which she hadpainstakingly written "Dear Father. " Then she scratched out the words, feeling she could not honestly call him that when he was such a stranger. Taking a clean sheet of paper, she wrote even more painstakingly:

"Dear Sir: There are two reesons----"

Then she looked up in doubt about the spelling of that last word. Shemight have gone downstairs and consulted the dictionary but herexperience had proved that a dictionary is an unsatisfactory book whenone does not know how to spell a word. It is by mere chance that what oneis looking for can be found. After thinking a moment she put her head outof the window and called softly down to Belle, who was sewing on the sideporch. She called softly so that Tippy could not hear and answer andmaybe add the remark, "But why do you ask? Are you writing to yourmother?"

Belle spelled the word for her, and taking another sheet of paperGeorgina made a fresh start. This time she did not hesitate over thespelling, but scribbled recklessly on until all that was crowding up tobe said was on the paper. 

"Dear Sir: There are two reasons for writing this. One is about yourwife. Cousin Mehitable says something is eating her heart out, and Ithought you ought to know. Maybe as you can cure so many strange diseesesyou can do something for her. The other is to ask you to send us anotherpicture of yourself. The only ones we have of you are looking offsideways, and I can't feel as well acquainted with you as if I could lookinto your eyes. 

"There is a lovely father staying at the Gray Inn. He is Peggy Burrell's. He is a naval officer, too. It makes me feel like an orfan when I see himgoing down the street holding her hand. He asked me to tell him all aboutwhere you are and what you are doing, because you cured him once on ahospital ship, and I was ashamed to tell him that I didn't know becauseBarby has not had a letter from you for over four months. Please don'tlet on to her that I wrote this. She doesn't know that I was under thebed when Cousin Mehitable was talking about you, and saying thateverybody thinks it is queer you never come home. If you can do only oneof the things I asked, please do the first one. Yours truly, GeorginaHuntingdon. "

Having blotted the letter, Georgina read it over carefully, finding twowords that did not look quite right, although she did not know what wasthe matter with them. So she called softly out of the window again toBelle:

"How do you spell diseases?"

Belle told her but added the question, "Why do you ask a word like that?Whose diseases can you be writing about?"

Georgina drew in her head without answering. She could not seek help inthat quarter again, especially for such a word as "orfan. " After studyingover it a moment she remembered there was a poem in "Songs for the LittleOnes at Home, " called "The Orphan Nosegay Girl. "

A trip downstairs for the tattered volume gave her the word she wanted, and soon the misspelled one was scratched out and rewritten. There werenow three unsightly blots on the letter and she hovered over them amoment, her pride demanding that she should make a clean, fair copy. Butit seemed such an endless task to rewrite it from beginning to end, thatshe finally decided to send it as it stood. 

Addressed, stamped and sealed, it was ready at last and she dropped itinto the mail-box. Then she had a moment of panic. It was actuallystarted on its way to Hong-Kong and nothing in her power could stop it orbring it back. She wondered if she hadn't done exactly the wrong thing, and made a bad matter worse. 

Chapter XXVI

Peggy Joins the Rainbow-Makers

Only one more thing happened before Barby's return that is worthrecording. Georgina went to spend the way at the Gray Inn. CaptainBurrell, himself, came to ask her. Peggy had to be put back into herbrace again he said. He was afraid it had been taken off too soon. Shewas very uncomfortable and unhappy on account of it. They would beleaving in the morning, much earlier than they had intended, because itwas necessary for her physician to see her at once, and quite probablethat she would have to go back to the sanitarium for a while. She didn'twant to leave Provincetown, because she did not want to go away fromGeorgina. 

"You have no idea how she admires you, " the Captain added, "or how shetries to copy you. Her dream of perfect happiness is to look and act justlike you. Yesterday she made her mother tie a big pink bow on her poorlittle cropped head because you passed by wearing one on your curls. Youcan cheer her up more than anyone else in the world. "

So Georgina, touched both by the Captain's evident distress over Peggy'sreturning lameness, and Peggy's fondness for her, went gladly. Theknowledge that everything she said and did was admired, made it easy forher to entertain the child, and the pity that welled up in her heartevery time she watched the thin little body move around in the tiresomebrace, made her long to do something that would really ease the burden ofsuch a misfortune. 

Mrs. Burrell was busy packing all morning, and in the afternoon went downthe street to do some shopping that their hurried departure madenecessary. Peggy brought out her post-card album, in which to fasten allthe postals she had added to her collection while on the Cape. Among themwas one of the Figurehead House, showing "Hope" perched over the portico. 

"Bailey says that's a sea-cook, " Peggy explained gravely. "A sea-cook whowas such a wooden-head that when he made doughnuts they turned green. He's got one in his hand that he's about to heave into the sea. "

"Oh, horrors! No!" exclaimed Georgina, as scandalized as if some falsereport had been circulated about one of her family. 

"That is Hope with a wreath in her hand, looking up with her head heldhigh, just as she did when she was on the prow of a gallant ship. Whenever I have any trouble or disappointment I think of her, and shehelps me to bear up and be brave, and go on as if nothing had happened. "

"How?" asked Peggy, gazing with wondering eyes at the picture of thefigurehead, which was too small on the postal to be very distinct. Anything that Georgina respected and admired so deeply, Peggy wanted torespect and admire in the same way, but it was puzzling to understandjust what it was that Georgina saw in that wooden figure to make her feelso. Accustomed to thinking of it in Bailey's way, as a sea-cook with adoughnut, it was hard to switch around to a point of view that showed itas Hope with a wreath, or to understand how it could help one to be braveabout anything. 

Something of her bewilderment crept into the wondering "why, " andGeorgina hesitated, a bit puzzled herself. It was hard to explain to achild two years younger what had been taught to her by the old Towncrier. 

"You wait till I run home and get my prism, " she answered. "Then I canshow you right away, and we can play a new kind of tag game with it. "

Before Peggy could protest that she would rather have her questionunanswered than be left alone, Georgina was off and running up the beachas fast as her little white shoes could carry her. Her cheeks were as redas the coral necklace she wore, when she came back breathless from herflying trip. 

There followed a few moments of rapture for Peggy, when the beautifulcrystal pendant was placed in her own hands, and she looked through itinto a world transformed by the magic of its coloring. She saw the roomchanged in a twinkling, as when a fairy wand transforms a mantle ofhomespun to cloth-of-gold. Through the open window she saw an enchantedharbor filled with a fleet of rainbows. Every sail was outlined with one, every mast edged with lines of red and gold and blue. And while shelooked, and at the same time listened, Georgina's explanation caught someof the same glamor, and sank deep into her tender little heart. 

That was the way that _she_ could change the world for people sheloved--put a rainbow around their troubles by being so cheery and hopefulthat everything would be brighter just because she was there. To keepHope at the prow simply meant that she mustn't get discouraged about herknee. No matter how much it hurt her or the brace bothered her, she mustbear up and steer right on. To do that bravely, without any fretting, wasthe surest way in the world to put a rainbow around her father'stroubles. 

Thus Georgina mixed her "line to live by" and her prism philosophy, butit was clear enough to the child who listened with heart as well as ears. And clear enough to the man who sat just outside the open window on theupper porch, with his pipe, listening also as he gazed off to sea. 

"The poor little lamb, " he said to himself. "To think of that baby tryingto bear up and be brave on my account! It breaks me all up. "

A few minutes later as he started across the hall, Peggy, seeing him passher door, called to him. "Oh, Daddy! Come look through this wonderfulfairy glass. You'll think the whole world is bewitched. "

She was lying back in a long steamer chair, and impatient to reach him, she started to climb out as he entered the room. But she had not grownaccustomed to the brace again, and she stumbled clumsily on account ofit. He caught her just in time to save her from falling, but the prism, the shining crystal pendant, dropped from her hands and struck the rockerof a chair in its fall to the floor. 

She gave a frightened cry, and stood holding her breath while Georginastooped and picked it up. It was in two pieces now. The long, radiantpoint, cut in many facets like a diamond, was broken off. 

Georgina, pale and trembling at this sudden destruction of her greatesttreasure, turned her back, and for one horrible moment it was all shecould do to keep from bursting out crying. Peggy, seeing her turn awayand realizing all that her awkwardness was costing Georgina, buried herface on her father's shoulder and went into such a wild paroxysm ofsobbing and crying that all his comforting failed to comfort her. 

"Oh, I wish I'd _died_ first, " she wailed. "She'll never love meagain. She said it was her most precious treasure, and now I've brokenit----"

"There, there, there, " soothed the Captain, patting the thin little armreached up to cling around his neck. "Georgina knows it was an accident. She's going to forgive my poor little Peggykins for what she couldn'thelp. She doesn't mind its being broken as much as you think. "

He looked across at Georgina, appealingly, helplessly. Peggy's grief wasso uncontrollable he was growing alarmed. Georgina wanted to cry out:

"Oh, I _do_ mind! How can you say that? I can't stand it to have mybeautiful, beautiful prism ruined!"

She was only a little girl herself, with no comforting shoulder to runto. But something came to her help just then. She remembered the oldsilver porringer with its tall, slim-looped letters. She remembered therewere some things she could not do. She _had_ to be brave now, because her name had been written around that shining rim through so manybrave generations. She could not deepen the hurt of this poor littlething already nearly frantic over what she had done. Tippy's earlylessons carried her gallantly through now. She ran across the room towhere Peggy sat on her father's knee, and put an arm around her. 

"Listen, Peggy, " she said brightly. "There's a piece of prism for each ofus now. Isn't that nice? You take one and I'll keep the other, and thatwill make you a member of our club. We call it the Rainbow Club, andwe're running a race seeing who can make the most bright spots in theworld, by making people happy. There's just four members in it so far;Richard and me and the president of the bank and Mr. Locke, the artist, who made the pictures in your blue and gold fairy-tale book. And you canbe the fifth. But you'll have to begin this minute by stopping yourcrying, or you can't belong. What did I tell you about fretting?"

And Peggy stopped. Not instantly, she couldn't do that after such a hardspell. The big sobs kept jerking her for a few minutes no matter how hardshe tried to stiffle them; but she sat up and let her father wipe herface on his big handkerchief, and she smiled her bravest, to show thatshe was worthy of membership in the new club. 

The Captain suddenly drew Georgina to his other knee and kissed her. 

"You blessed little rainbow maker!" he exclaimed. "I'd like to join yourclub myself. What a happy world this would be if everybody belonged toit. "

Peggy clasped her hands together beseechingly. 

"Oh, _please_ let him belong, Georgina. I'll lend him my piece ofprism half the time. "

"Of course he can, " consented Georgina. "But he can belong without havinga prism. Grown people don't need anything to help them remember aboutmaking good times in the world. "

"I wonder, " said the Captain, as if he were talking to himself. Georgina, looking at him shyly from the corner of her eye, wondered what it was hewondered. 

It was almost supper time when she went home. She had kept the upper halfof the prism which had the hole in it, and it dangled from her neck onthe pink ribbon as she walked. 

"If only Barby could have seen it first, " she mourned. "I wouldn't mindit so much. But she'll never know how beautiful it was. "

But every time that thought came to her it was followed by a recollectionwhich made her tingle with happiness. It was the Captain's deep voicesaying tenderly, "You blessed little rainbow-maker!"

Chapter XXVII

A Modern "St. George and the Dragon"

Barby was at home again. Georgina, hearing the jangle of a bell, randown the street to meet the old Towncrier with the news. She knew now, hefelt when he wanted to go through the town ringing his bell and callingout the good tidings about his Danny to all the world. That's the way shefelt her mother's home-coming ought to be proclaimed. It was such ajoyful thing to have her back again. 

And Grandfather Shirley wasn't going to be blind, Georgina confided inher next breath. The sight of both eyes would be all right in time. Theywere _so_ thankful about that. And Barby had brought her thedarlingest little pink silk parasol ever made or dreamed of, all the wayfrom Louisville, and some beaten biscuit and a comb of honey from thebeehives in her old home garden. 

It was wonderful how much news Georgina managed to crowd into the shorttime that it took to walk back to the gate. The Burrells had left townand Belle had gone home, and Richard had sent her a postal card from BarHarbor with a snapshot of himself and Captain Kidd on it. And--shelowered her voice almost to a whisper as she told the next item:

"Barby knows about Danny! Belle said I might tell her if she'd promisenot to let it get back to Mr. Potter. "

They had reached the house by this time, and Georgina led him in to Barbywho rose to welcome him with both hands outstretched. 

"Oh, Uncle Darcy, " she exclaimed. "I know--and I'm _so_ glad. AndJustin will be, too. I sent Georgina's letter to him the very day itcame. I knew he'd be so interested, and it can do no harm for him toknow, away off there in the interior of China. "

Georgina was startled, remembering the letter which _she_ had sentto the interior of China. Surely her father wouldn't send that back toBarby! Such a panic seized her at the bare possibility of such a thing, that she did not hear Uncle Darcy's reply. She wondered what Barby wouldsay if it should come back to her. Then she recalled what had happenedthe first few moments of Barby's return and wondered what made her thinkof it. 

Barby's first act on coming into the house, was to walk over to the oldsecretary where the mail was always laid, and look to see if any letterswere waiting there for her. And that was before she had even stopped totake off her veil or gloves. There were three which had arrived thatmorning, but she only glanced at them and tossed them aside. The one shewanted wasn't there. Georgina had turned away and pretended that shewasn't watching but she was, and for a moment she felt that the sun hadgone behind a cloud, Barby looked so disappointed. 

But it was only for a moment, for Barby immediately began to tell aboutan amusing experience she had on her way home, and started upstairs totake off her hat, with Georgina tagging after to ask a thousandquestions, just as she had been tagging ever since. 

And later she had thrown her arms arpund her mother, exclaiming as sheheld her fast, "You haven't changed a single bit, Barby, " and Barbyanswered gaily:

"What did you expect, dearest, in a few short weeks? White hair andspectacles?"

"But it doesn't seem like a few short weeks, " sighed Georgina. "It seemsas if years full of things had happened, and that I'm as old as you are. "

Now as Uncle Darcy recounted some of these happenings, and Barby realizedhow many strange experiences Georgina had lived through during herabsence, how many new acquaintances she had made and how much she hadbeen allowed to go about by herself, she understood why the child felt somuch older. She understood still better that night as she sat brushingGeorgina's curls. The little girl on the footstool at her knee wasbeginning to reach up--was beginning to ask questions about the strangegrown-up world whose sayings and doings are always so puzzling to littleheads. 

"Barby, " she asked hesitatingly, "what do people mean exactly, when theysay they have other fish to fry?"

"Oh, just other business to attend to or something else they'd ratherdo. "

"But when they shrug their shoulders at the same time, " persistedGeorgina. 

"A shrug can stand for almost anything, " answered Barby. "Sometimes itsays meaner things than words can convey. "

Then came the inevitable question which made Georgina wish that she hadnot spoken. 

"But why do you ask, dear? Tell me how the expression was used, and I canexplain better. "

Now Georgina could not understand why she had brought up the subject. Ithad been uppermost in her mind all evening, but every time it reached thetip of her tongue she drove it back. That is, until this last time. Thenit seemed to say itself. Having gone this far she could not lightlychange the subject as an older person might have done. Barby was waitingfor an answer. It came in a moment, halting but truthful. 

"That day I was at the Bazaar, you know, and everybody was saying hownice I looked, dressed up like a little girl of long ago, I heard Mrs. Whitman say to Miss Minnis that one would think that Justin Huntingdonwould want to come home once or twice in a lifetime to see me; and MissMinnis shrugged her shoulders, this way, and said:

"'Oh, he has other fish to fry. '"

Georgina, with her usual aptitude for mimicry, made the shrug so eloquentthat Barby understood exactly what Miss Minnis intended to convey, andwhat it had meant to the wondering child. 

"Miss Minnis is an old cat!" she exclaimed impatiently. Then she laiddown the brush, and gathering Georgina's curls into one hand, turned herhead so that she could look into the troubled little face. 

"Tell me, Baby, " she demanded. "Have you heard anyone else say thingslike that?"

"Yes, " admitted Georgina, "several times. And yesterday a woman who cameinto the bakery while I was getting the rolls Tippy sent me for, asked meif I was Doctor Huntingdon's little girl. And when I said yes, she askedme when he was coming home. "

"And what did you say?"

"Well, I thought she hadn't any right to ask, specially in the way shemade her question sound. She doesn't belong in this town, anyhow. She'sonly one of the summer boarders. So I drew myself up the way the Duchessalways did in 'The Fortunes of Romney Tower. ' Don't you remember? and Isaid, 'It will probably be some time, Madam. ' Then I took up my bag ofhot rolls and marched out. I think that word Madam always sounds sofreezing, when you say it the way the Duchess was always doing. "

"Oh, you ridiculous baby!" exclaimed Barby, clasping her close andkissing her again and again. Then seeing the trouble still lingering inthe big brown eyes, she took the little face between her hands and lookedinto it long and intently, as if reading her thoughts. 

"Georgina, " she said presently, "I understand now, what is the matter. You're wondering the same thing about your father that these busybodiesare. It's my fault though. I took it for granted that you understoodabout his long absence. I never dreamed that it was hurting you in anyway. "

Georgina hid her face in Barby's lap, her silence proof enough that hermother had guessed aright. For a moment or two Barby's hand strayedcaressingly over the bowed head. Then she said:

"I wonder if you remember this old story I used to tell you, beginning, 'St. George of Merry England was the youngest and the bravest of theseven champions of Christendom. Clad in bright armor with his magic swordAscalon by his side, he used to travel on his war horse in far countriesin search of adventure. ' Do you remember that?"

Georgina nodded yes without raising her head. 

"Then you remember he came to a beach where the Princess Saba called tohim to flee, because the Dragon, the most terrible monster ever seen onearth, was about to come up out of the sea and destroy the city. Everyyear it came up to do this, and only the sacrifice of a beautiful maidencould stop it from destroying the people. 

"But undismayed, Saint George refused to flee. He stayed on and foughtthe dragon, and wounded it, and bound it with the maiden's sash and ledit into the market place where it was finally killed. And the people wereforever freed from the terrible monster because of his prowess. Do youremember all that?"

Again Georgina nodded. She knew the story well. Every Christmas as farback as she could remember she had eaten her bit of plum pudding from acertain rare old blue plate, on which was the picture of Saint George, the dragon and the Princess. "Nowadays, " Barby went on, "because men donot ride around 'clad in bright armor, ' doing knightly deeds, people donot recognize them as knights. But your father is doing something that isjust as great and just as brave as any of the deeds of any knight whoever drew a sword. Over in foreign ports where he has been stationed, isa strange disease which seems to rise out of the marshes every year, justas the dragon did, and threaten the health and the lives of the people. It is especially bad on shipboard, and it is really harder to fight thana real dragon would be, because it is an invisible foe, a sickness thatcomes because of a tiny, unseen microbe. 

"Your father has watched it, year after year, attacking not only thesailors of foreign navies but our own men, when they have to live inthose ports, and he made up his mind to go on a quest for this invisiblemonster, and kill it if possible. It is such a very important quest thatthe Government was glad to grant him a year's leave of absence from theservice. 

"He was about to come home to see us first, when he met an old friend, avery wealthy Englishman, who has spent the greater part of his lifecollecting rare plants and studying their habits. He has written severalvaluable books on Botany, and the last ten years he has been especiallyinterested in the plants of China. He was getting ready to go to the veryplaces that your father was planning to visit, and he had with him aninterpreter and a young American assistant. When he invited your fatherto join him it was an opportunity too great to be refused. This Mr. Bowles is familiar with the country and the people, even speaks thelanguage himself a little. He had letters to many of the high officials, and could be of the greatest assistance to your father in many ways, eventhough he did not stay with the party. He could always be incommunication with it. 

"So, of course, he accepted the invitation. It is far better for thequest and far better for himself to be with such companions. 

"I am not uneasy about him, knowing he has friends within call in case ofsickness and accident, and he will probably be able to accomplish hispurpose more quickly with the help they will be able to give. You know hehas to go off into all sorts of dirty, uncomfortable places, risk his ownhealth and safety, go among the sick and suffering where he can watch theprogress of the disease under different conditions. 

"The whole year may be spent in a vain search, with nothing to show forit at the end, and even if he is successful and finds the cause of thisstrange illness and a remedy, his only reward will be the satisfaction ofknowing he has done something to relieve the suffering of his fellow-creatures. People can understand the kind of bravery that shows. If hewere rescuing one person from a burning house or a sinking boat theywould cry out, 'What a hero. ' But they don't seem to appreciate this kindof rescue work. It will do a thousand times more good, because it willfree the whole navy from the teeth of the dragon. 

"If there were a war, people would not expect him to come home. We aregiving him up to his country now, just as truly as if he were in themidst of battle. A soldier's wife and a soldier's daughter--it is theproof of our love and loyalty, Georgina, to bear his long absencecheerfully, no matter how hard that is to do; to be proud that he canserve his country if not with his sword, with the purpose and prowess ofa Saint George. "

Barby's eyes were wet but there was a starry light in them, as she liftedGeorgina's head and kissed her. Two little arms were thrown impulsivelyaround her neck. 

"Oh, Barby! I'm so sorry that I didn't know all that before! I didn'tunderstand, and I felt real ugly about it when I heard people whisperingand saying things as if he didn't love us any more. And--when I said myprayers at bedtime--I didn't sing 'Eternal Father Strong to Save' asingle night while you were gone. "

Comforting arms held her close. 

"Why didn't you write and tell mother about it?"

"I didn't want to make you feel bad. I was afraid from what CousinMehitable said you were going to _die_. I worried and worried overit. Oh, I had the miserablest time!"

Another kiss interrupted her. "But you'll never do that way again, Georgina. Promise me that no matter what happens you'll come straight tome and have it set right. "

The promise was given, with what remorse and penitence no one could knowbut Georgina, recalling the letter she had written, beginning with astern "Dear Sir. " But to justify herself, she asked after the hair-brushing had begun again:

"But Barby, why has he stayed away from home four whole years? He wasn'thunting dragons before this, was he?"

"No, but I thought you understood that, too. He didn't come back here tothe Cape because there were important things which kept him in Washingtonduring his furloughs. Maybe you were too small to remember that the timeyou and I were spending the summer in Kentucky he had planned to join usthere. But he wired that his best friend in the Navy, an old Admiral, wasat the point of death, and didn't want him to leave him. The Admiral hadbefriended him in so many ways when he first went into the service thatthere was nothing else for your father to do but stay with him as long ashe was needed. You were only six then, and I was afraid the long, hottrip might make you sick, so I left you with mamma while I went on forseveral weeks. Surely you remember something of that time. "

"No, just being in Kentucky is all I remember, and your going away for awhile. "

"And the next time some business affairs of his own kept him inWashington, something very important. You were just getting over themeasles and I didn't dare take you, so you stayed with Tippy. So you seeit wasn't your father's fault that he didn't see you. He had expected youto be brought down to Washington. "

Georgina pondered over the explanation a while, then presently said witha sigh, "Goodness me, how easy it is to look at things the wrong way. "

Soon after her voice blended with Barby's in a return to the longneglected bedtime rite:

 "Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea. "

Afterward, her troubles all smoothed and explained away, she lay in thedark, comforted and at peace with the world. Once a little black doubtthrust its head up like a snake, to remind her of Melindy's utterance, "When a man _wants_ to write, he's gwine to write, busy or no busy. "But even that found an explanation in her thoughts. 

Of course, Melindy meant just ordinary men, Not those who had great deedsto do in the world like her father. Probably Saint George himself hadn'twritten to his family often, if he had a family. He couldn't be expectedto. He had "other fish to fry, " and it was perfectly right and proper forhim to put his mind on the frying of them to the neglect of everythingelse. 

The four months' long silence was unexplained save for this comfortingthought, but Georgina worried about it no longer. Up from below came thesound of keys touched softly as Barby sang an old lullaby. She sang it ina glad, trustful sort of way, "He is far across the sea, But he's coming home to me, Baby mine!"

Lying there in the dark, Georgina composed another letter to send afterher first one, and next morning this is what she wrote, sitting up in thewillow tree with a magazine on her knees for a writing table:

"Dearest Father: I am sorry that I wrote that last letter, becauseeverything is different from what I thought it was. I did not know untilBarby came home and told me, that you are just as brave as St. Georgewas, clad in bright armor, when he went to rescue the people from thedragon. I hope you get the monster that comes up out of the sea everyyear after the poor sailors. Barby says we are giving you to our countryin this way, as much as if there was war, so now I'm prouder of having aSt. -George-and-the-dragon-kind of a father than one like Peggy Burrell's, even if she does know him well enough to call him 'Dad-o'-my-heart. ' Evenif people don't understand, and say things about your never coming hometo see us, we are going to 'still bear up and steer right onward, 'because that's our line to live by. And we hope as hard as we can everyday, that you'll get the mike-robe you are in kwest of. Your lovinglittle daughter, Georgina Huntingdon. "

Chapter XXVIII

The Doctor's Discovery

In due time the letter written in the willow tree reached the city ofHong-Kong, and was carried to the big English hotel, overlooking theloveliest of Chinese harbors. But it was not delivered to DoctorHuntingdon. It was piled on top of all the other mail which lay there, awaiting his return. Under it was Georgina's first letter to him and theone she had written to her mother about Dan Darcy and the rifle. Andunder that was the one which Barbara called the "rainbow letter, " andthen at least half a dozen from Barbara herself, with the beautifulcolored photograph of the Towncrier and his lass. Also there were severalbundles of official-looking documents and many American newspapers. 

Nothing had been forwarded to him for two months, because he had leftinstructions to hold his mail until further notice. The first part ofthat time he was moving constantly from one out-of-the-way place toanother where postal delivery was slow and uncertain. The last part ofthat time he was lying ill in the grip of the very disease which he hadgone out to study and to conquer. 

He was glad then to be traveling in the wake of the friendly oldEnglishman and his party. Through their interpreter, arrangements weremade to have him carried to one of the tents of a primitive sort of ahospital, kept by some native missionaries. The Englishman's youngassistant went with him. He was a quiet fellow whom Mr. Bowles hadjokingly dubbed David the silent, because it was so hard to make himtalk. But Doctor Huntingdon, a reserved, silent man himself, had beenattracted to him by that very trait. 

During the months they had been thrown together so much, Dave had takengreat interest in the Doctor's reports of the experiments he was makingin treating the disease. When the Doctor was told that Mr. Bowles hadgone back to the coast, having found what he wanted and made his notesfor his next book, and consequently Dave was free to stay and nurse him, he gave a sigh of relief. 

Dave stopped his thanks almost gruffly. 

"There's more than one reason for my staying, " he said. "I've been sickamong strangers in a strange country, myself, and I know how it feels. Besides, I'm interested in seeing if this new treatment of yours worksout on a white man as well as it did on these natives. I'll be doing asmuch in the way of scientific research, keeping a chart on you, as if Iwere taking notes for Mr. Bowles. "

That was a long speech for Dave, the longest that he made during theDoctor's illness. But in the days which followed, one might well havewondered if there was not a greater reason than those he offered for suchdevoted attendance. He was always within call, always so quick to noticea want that usually a wish was gratified before it could be expressed. His was a devotion too constant to be prompted merely by sympathy for afellow-country-man or interest in medical experiments. 

Once, when the Doctor was convalescing, he opened his eyes to find hissilent attendant sitting beside him reading, and studied him for sometime, unobserved. 

"Dave, " he said, after watching him a while--"it's the queerest thing--lately every time I look at you I'm reminded of home. You must resemblesomeone I used to know back there, but for the life of me I can't recallwho. "

Dave answered indifferently, without glancing up from the page. 

"There's probably a thousand fellows that look like me. I'm medium heightand about every third person you see back in the States has gray eyeslike mine, and just the ordinary every-day sort of features that I have. "

The Doctor made no answer. It never would have occurred to him to tellDave in what way his face differed from the many others of his type. There was a certain kindliness of twinkle in the gray eyes at times, andalways a straightforward honesty of gaze that made one instinctivelytrust him. There was strength of purpose in the resolute set of hismouth, and one could not imagine him being turned back on any road whichhe had made up his mind to travel to the end. 

Several days after that when the Doctor was sitting up outside the tent, the resemblance to someone whom he could not recall, puzzled him again. Dave was whittling, his lips pursed up as he whistled softly in anabsent-minded sort of way. 

"Dave, " exclaimed the Doctor, "there's something in the way you sitthere, whittling and whistling that brings little old Provincetown rightup before my eyes. I can see old Captain Ames sitting there on the wharfon a coil of rope, whittling just as you are doing, and joking with Samand the crew as they pile into the boat to go out to the weirs. I can seethe nets spread out to dry alongshore, and smell tar and codfish as plainas if it were here right under my nose. And down in Fishburn Courtthere's the little house that was always a second home to me, with UncleDarcy pottering around in the yard, singing his old sailors' songs. "

The Doctor closed his eyes and drew in a long, slow breath. 

"Um! There's the most delicious smell coming out of that kitchen--blueberry pies that Aunt Elspeth's baking. What wouldn't I give thisminute for one of those good, juicy blueberry pies of hers, smoking hot. I can smell it clear over here in China. There never was anything in theworld that tasted half so good. I was always tagging around after UncleDarcy, as I called him. He was the Towncrier, and one of those staunch, honest souls who make you believe in the goodness of God and man nomatter what happens to shake the foundations of your faith. "

The Doctor opened his eyes and looked up inquiringly, startled by theknocking over of the stool on which Dave had been sitting. He had risenabruptly and gone inside the tent. 

"Go on, " he called back. "I can hear you. " He seemed to be looking forsomething, for he was striding up and down in its narrow space. TheDoctor raised his voice a trifle. 

"That's all I had to say. I didn't intend to bore you talking aboutpeople and places you never heard of. But it just came over me in a bigwave--that feeling of homesickness that makes you feel you've got to getback or die. Did you ever have it?"

"Yes, " came the answer in an indifferent tone. "Several times. "

"Well, it's got me now, right by the throat. "

Presently he called, "Dave, while you're in there I wish you'd look in myluggage and see what newspapers are folded up with it. I have a dimrecollection that a _Provincetown Advocate_ came about the time Iwas taken sick and I never opened it. 

"Ah, that's it!" he exclaimed when Dave emerged presently, holding outthe newspaper. "Look at the cut across the top of the first page. OldProvincetown itself. It's more for the name of the town printed acrossthat picture of the harbor than for the news that I keep on taking thepaper. Ordinarily, I never do more than glance at the news items, butthere's time to-day to read even the advertisements. You've no idea howgood those familiar old names look to me. "

He read some of them aloud, smiling over the memories they awakened. Buthe read without an auditor, for Dave found he had business with one ofthe missionaries, and put off to attend to it. On his return he wasgreeted with the announcement:

"Dave, I want to get out of here. I'm sure there must be a big pile ofmail waiting for me right now in Hong-Kong, and I'm willing to risk thetrip. Let's start back to-morrow. "

Several days later they were in Hong-Kong, enjoying the luxuries ofcivilization in the big hotel. Still weak from his recent illness andfatigued by the hardships of his journey, Doctor Huntingdon did not godown to lunch the day of their arrival. It was served in his room, and ashe ate he stopped at intervals to take another dip into the pile of mailwhich had been brought up to him. 

In his methodical way he opened the letters in the order of theirarrival, beginning with the one whose postmark showed the earliest date. It took a long time to finish eating on account of these pauses. HopChing was bringing in his coffee when Dave came back, having had not onlyhis lunch in the diningroom, but a stroll through the streets afterward. He found Doctor Huntingdon with a photograph propped up in front of him, studying it intently while Hop Ching served the coffee. The Doctor passedthe photograph to Dave. 

"Take it over to the window where you can get a good light on it, " hecommanded. "Isn't that a peach of a picture? That's my little daughterand the old friend I'm always quoting. The two seem to be as great chumsas he and I used to be. I don't want to bore you, Dave, but I would liketo read you this letter that she wrote to her mother, and her mother senton to me. In the first place I'm proud of her writing such a letter. Ihad no idea she could express herself so well, and secondly the subjectmatter makes it an interesting document. 

"On my little girl's birthday Uncle Darcy took her out in his boat, _The Betsey_. The name of that old boat certainly does sound good tome! He told her--but wait! I'd rather read it to you in her own words. It'll give you such a good idea of the old man. Perhaps I ought toexplain that he Had a son who got into trouble some ten years ago, andleft home. He was just a little chap when I saw him last, hardly out ofdresses, the fall I left home for college. 

[Illustration: The Towncrier and his Lass]

"Uncle Darcy and Aunt Elspeth were fairly foolish about him. He had comeinto their lives late, you see, after their older children died. I don'tbelieve it would make any difference to them what he'd do. They wouldwelcome him back from the very gallows if he'd only come. His mothernever has believed he did anything wrong, and the hope of the old man'slife is that his 'Danny, ' as he calls him, will make good in some way--dosomething to wipe out the stain on his name and come back to him. "

The Doctor paused as if waiting for some encouragement to read. 

"Go on, " said Dave. "I'd like to hear it, best in the world. "

He turned his chair so that he could look out of the window at theharbor. The Chinese sampans of every color were gliding across the waterlike a flock of gaily-hued swans. He seemed to be dividing his attentionbetween those native boats and the letter when the Doctor first began toread. It was Georgina's rainbow letter, and the colors of the rainbowwere repeated again and again by the reds and yellows and blues of thatfleet of sampans. 

But as the Doctor read on Dave listened more intently, so intently, infact, that he withdrew his attention entirely from the window, andleaning forward, buried his face in his hands, his elbows resting on hisknees. The Doctor found him in this attitude when he looked up at theend, expecting some sort of comment. He was used to Dave's silences, buthe had thought this surely would call forth some remark. Then as hestudied the bowed figure, it flashed into his mind that the letter musthave touched some chord in the boy's own past. Maybe Dave had an oldfather somewhere, longing for his return, and the memory was breaking himall up. 

Silently, the Doctor turned aside to the pile of letters still unread. Georgina's stern little note beginning "Dear Sir" was the next in orderand was in such sharp contrast to the loving, intimate way she addressedher mother, that he felt the intended reproach of it, even while itamused and surprised him. But it hurt a little. It wasn't pleasant tohave his only child regard him as a stranger. It was fortunate that thenext letter was the one in which she hastened to call him "a Saint-George-and-the-dragon sort of father. "

When he read Barbara's explanation of his long silence and Georgina'squick acceptance of it, he wanted to take them both in his arms and tellthem how deeply he was touched by their love and loyalty; that he hadn'tintended to be neglectful of them or so absorbed in his work that he putit first in his life. But it was hard for him to put such things intowords, either written or spoken. He had left too much to be taken forgranted he admitted remorsefully to himself. 

For a long time he sat staring sternly into space. So people had beengossiping about him, had they? And Barbara and the baby had heard thewhispers and been hurt by them----He'd go home and put a stop to it. Hestraightened himself up and turned to report his sudden decision to Dave. But the chair by the window was empty. The Doctor glanced over hisshoulder. Dave had changed his seat and was sitting behind him. They wereback to back, but a mirror hung in such a way the Doctor could see Dave'sface. 

With arms crossed on a little table in front of him, he was leaningforward for another look at the photograph which he had propped upagainst a vase. A hungry yearning was in his face as he bent towards it, gazing into it as if he could not look his fill. Suddenly his head wentdown on his crossed arms in such a hopeless fashion that in a flashDoctor Huntingdon divined the reason, and recognized the resemblance thathad haunted him. Now he understood why the boy had stayed behind to nursehim. Now a dozen trifling incidents that had seemed of no importance tohim at the time, confirmed his suspicion. 

His first impulse was to Cry out "Dan!" but his life-long habit ofrepression checked him. He felt he had no right to intrude on the privacywhich the boy guarded so jealously. But Uncle Darcy's son! Off here in aforeign land, bowed down with remorse and homesickness! How he must havebeen tortured with all that talk of the old town and its people!

A great wave of pity and yearning tenderness swept through the Doctor'sheart as he sat twisted around in his chair, staring at that reflectionin the mirror. He was uncertain what he ought to do. He longed to go tohim with some word of comfort, but he shrank from the thought of sayinganything which would seem an intrusion. 

Finally he rose, and walking across the room, laid his hand on the bowedshoulder with a sympathetic pressure. 

"Look here, my boy, " he said, in his deep, quiet voice. "I'm not askingyou what the trouble is, but whatever it is you'll let me help you, won'tyou? You've given me the right to ask that by all you've done for me. Anything I could do would be only too little for one who has stood by methe way you have. I want you to feel that I'm your friend in the deepestmeaning of that word. You can count on me for anything. " Then in alighter tone as he gave the shoulder a half-playful slap he added, "I'm_for_ you, son. "

The younger man raised his head and straightened himself up in his chair. 

"You wouldn't be!" he exclaimed, "if you knew who I am. " Then he blurtedout the confession: "I'm Dan Darcy. I can't let you go on believing in mewhen you talk like that. "

"But I knew it when I said what I did, " interrupted Doctor Huntingdon. "It flashed over me first when I saw you looking at your father'spicture. No man could look at a stranger's face that way. Then I knewwhat the resemblance was that has puzzled me ever since I met you. Theonly wonder to me is that I did not see it long ago. "

"You knew it, " repeated Dan slowly, "and yet you told me to count you asa friend in the deepest meaning of that word. How could you mean it?"

The Doctor's answer came with deep impressiveness. 

"Because, despite whatever slip you may have made as a boy of eighteen, you have grown into a man worthy of such a friendship. A surgeon in myposition learns to read character, learns to know an honest man when hesees one. No matter what lies behind you that you regret, I have everyconfidence in you now, Dan. I am convinced you are worthy to be the sonof even such a man as Daniel Darcy. "

He held out his hand to have it taken in a long, silent grip that made itache. 

"Come on and go back home with me, " urged the Doctor. "You've made goodout here. Do the brave thing now and go back and live down the past. It'll make the old folks so happy it'll wipe out the heart-break of allthose years that you've been away. "

Dan's only response was another grasp of the Doctor's hand as strong andas painful as the first. Pulling himself up by it he stood an instanttrying to say something, then, too overcome to utter a word, made a dashfor the door. 

Doctor Huntingdon was so stirred by the scene that he found it difficultto go back to his letters, but the very next one in order happened to bethe one Georgina wrote to her mother just after Belle had given herconsent to Barby's being told of Emmett's confession. He read the latterpart of it, standing, for he had sprung to his feet with the surprise ofits opening sentence. He did not even know that Emmett had been dead allthese years, and Dan, who had had no word from home during all hisabsence, could not know it either. He was in a tremor of eagerness tohurry to him with the news, but he waited to scan the rest of the letter. 

Then with it fluttering open in his hand he strode across the hall andburst into Dan's room without knocking. 

"Pack up your junk, this minute, boy, " he shouted. "We take the firstboat out of here for home. Look at this!"

He thrust Georgina's letter before Dan's bewildered eyes. 

Chapter XXIX

While they Waited

"There comes the boy from the telegraph office. " Mrs. Triplett spoke withsuch a raven-like note of foreboding in her voice that Georgina, practising her daily scales, let her hands fall limply from the keys. 

"The Tishbite!" she thought uneasily. What evil was it about to send intothe house now, under cover of that yellow envelope? Would it take Barbyaway from her as it had done before?

Sitting motionless on the piano stool, she waited in dread while Mrs. Triplett hurried to the door before the boy could ring, signed for themessage and silently bore it upstairs. The very fact that she went upwith it herself, instead of calling to Barby that a message had come, gave Georgina the impression that it contained bad news. 

"A _cablegram_ for me?" she heard Barby ask. Then there was amoment's silence in which she knew the message was being opened and read. Then there was a murmur as if she were reading it aloud to Tippy andthen--an excited whirlwind of a Barby flying down the stairs, her eyeslike happy stars, her arms outstretched to gather Georgina into them, andher voice half laugh, half sob, singing:

 "Oh, he's coming home to me Baby mine!"

Never before had Georgina seen her so radiant, so excited, sooverflowingly happy that she gave vent to her feelings as a littleschoolgirl might have done. Seizing Georgina in her arms she waltzed heraround the room until she was dizzy. Coming to a pause at the piano stoolshe seated herself and played, "The Year of Jubilee Has Come, " in deep, crashing chords and trickly little runs and trills, till the old tune wastransformed into a paen of jubilation. 

Then she took the message from her belt, where she had tucked it andre-read it to assure herself of its reality. 

"Starting home immediately. Stay three months, dragon captured. "

"That must mean that his quest has been fairly successful, " she said. "Ifhe's found the cause of the disease it'll be only a matter of time tillhe finds how to kill it. "

Then she looked up, puzzled. 

"How strange for him to call it the _dragon_. How could he know we'dunderstand, and that we've been calling it that?"

Georgina's time had come for confession. 

"Oh, I wrote him a little note after you told me the story and told him Iwas proud of having a Saint-George-kind of a father, and that we hopedevery day he'd get the microbe. "

"You darling!" exclaimed Barbara, drawing her to her for anotherimpulsive hug. She did not ask as Georgina was afraid she would:

"Why didn't you tell me you were writing to your father?" Barbaraunderstood, without asking, remembering the head bowed in her lap afterthat confession of her encounter with the prying stranger in the bakery. 

Suddenly Georgina asked:

"Barby, what is the 'Tishbite?'"

"The what?" echoed Barby, wrinkling her forehead in perplexity. 

"The Tishbite. Don't you know it says in the Bible, Elijah and theTishbite----"

"Oh, no, dear, you've turned it around, and put the and in the wrongplace. It is 'And Elijah the Tishbite, ' just as we'd say William theNorman or Manuel the Portuguese. "

"Well, for pity sakes!" drawled Georgina in a long, slow breath ofrelief. "Is that all? I wish I'd known it long ago. It would have savedme a lot of scary feelings. "

Then she told how she had made the wish on the star and tried to prove itas Belle had taught her, by opening the Bible at random. 

"If you had read on, " said Barby, "you'd have found what it meant yourown self. "

"But the book shut up before I had a chance, " explained Georgina. "And Inever could find the place again, although I've hunted and hunted. And Iwas sure it meant some sort of devil, and that it would come and punishme for using the Bible that way as if it were a hoodoo. "

"Then why didn't you ask me?" insisted Barby. "There's another time yousee, when a big worry and misunderstanding could have been cleared awaywith a word. To think of your living in dread all that time, when theTishbite was only a good old prophet whose presence brought a blessing tothe house which sheltered him. "

That night when Georgina's curls were being brushed she said, "Barby, Iknow now who my Tishbite is; it's Captain Kidd. He's brought a blessingever since he came to this town. If it hadn't been for his barking thatday we were playing in the garage I wouldn't be here now to tell thetale. If it hadn't been for him I wouldn't have known Richard, and we'dnever have started to playing pirate. And if we hadn't played pirateRichard wouldn't have asked to borrow the rifle, and if he hadn't askedwe never would have found the note hidden in the stock, and if we hadn'tfound the note nobody would have known that Danny was innocent. Then ifCaptain Kidd hadn't found the pouch we wouldn't have seen the compassthat led to finding the wild-cat woman who told us that Danny was aliveand well. "

"What a House-That-Jack-Built sort of tale that was!" exclaimed Barby, much amused. "We'll have to do something in Captain Kidd's honor. Givehim a party perhaps, and light up the holiday tree. "

The usual bedtime ceremonies were over, and Barby had turned out thelight and reached the door when Georgina raised herself on her elbow tocall:

"Barby, I've just thought of it. The wish I made on that star that nightis beginning to come true. Nearly everybody I know is happy aboutsomething. " Then she snuggled her head down on the pillow with a littlewriggle of satisfaction. "Ugh! this is such a good world. I'm so glad I'mliving in it. Aren't you?"

And Barby had to come all the way back in the dark to emphasize herheartfelt "yes, indeed, " with a hug, and to seal the restless eyelidsdown with a kiss--the only way to make them stay shut. 

Richard came back the next day. He brought a picture to Georgina from Mr. Locke. It was the copy of the illustration he had promised her, the fairyshallop with its sails set wide, coming across a sea of Dreams, and atthe prow, white-handed Hope, the angel girt with golden wings, whichswept back over the sides of the vessel. 

"Think of having a painting by the famous Milford Norris Locke!"exclaimed Barby. She hung over it admiringly. "Most people would be happyto have just his autograph. " She bent nearer to examine the name in thecorner of the picture. "What's this underneath? Looks like number IV. "

"Oh, that means he's number four in our Rainbow Club. Peggy Burrell isnumber five and the Captain is number six. That's all the members we haveso far. "

"Aren't you going to count me in?" asked Barby. 

"Oh, you _are_ counted in. You've belonged from the beginning. Wemade you an _honary_ member or whatever it is they call it, peoplewho deserve to belong because they're always doing nice things, but don'tknow it. There's you and Uncle Darcy and Captain Kidd, because he savedour lives and saved our families from having to have a double funeral. "

Barby stooped to take the little terrier's head between her hands andpat-a-cake it back and forth with an affectionate caress. 

"Captain Kidd, " she said gaily, "you shall have a party this very night, and there shall be bones and cakes on the holiday tree, and you shall bethe best man with a 'normous blue bow on your collar, and we'll all dancearound in your honor this way. "

Springing to her feet and holding the terrier's front paws, she waltzedhim around and around on his hind legs, singing:

 "All around the barberry bush, Barberry bush, barberry bush. All around the barberry bush So early in the morning. "

Georgina, accustomed all her life to such frisky performances, took it asa matter of course that Barby should give vent to her feelings in thesame way that she herself would have done, but Richard stood by, bewildered. It was a revelation to him that anybody's mother could be socharmingly and unreservedly gay. She seemed more like a big sister thanany of the mothers of his acquaintance. He couldn't remember his own, andwhile Aunt Letty was always sweet and good to him he couldn't imagine herwaltzing a dog around on its hind legs any more than he could imagineMrs. Martha Washington doing it. 

The holiday tree was another revelation to him, when he came back at duskto find it lighted with the colored lanterns and blooming with flags andhung with surprises for Georgina and himself. 

"You've never seen it lighted, " Barby explained, "and Georgina's birthdayhad to be skipped because I wasn't here to celebrate, so we've rolled allthe holidays into one, for a grand celebration in Captain Kidd's honor. "

It was to shorten the time of waiting that Barbara threw herself into thechildren's games and pleasures so heartily. Every night she tore a leafoff the calendar and planned something to fill up the next day to thebrim with work or play. They climbed to the top of the monument when shefound that Richard had never made the ascent, and stood long, looking offto Plymouth, twenty miles away, and at the town spread out below them, seeming from their great height, a tiny toy village. They went to Truroto see the bayberry candle-dipping. They played Maud Muller, raking theyard, because the boy whom old Jeremy had installed in his place had hurthis foot. Old Jeremy, being well on toward ninety now, no longerattempted any work, though still hale and hearty. But the garden had beenhis especial domain too long for him to give it up entirely, and he spenthours in it daily, to the disgust of his easy-going successor. 

There were picnics at Highland Light and the Race Point life-savingstation. There were long walks out the state road, through the dunes andby the cranberry bogs. But everything which speeded Barbara's weeks offeverish waiting, hurrying her on nearer her heart's desire, broughtRichard nearer ito the time of parting from the old seaport town and thebest times he had ever known. He had kodak pictures of all their outings. Most of them were light-struck or out of focus or over-exposed, but hetreasured them because he had taken them himself with his first littleBrownie camera. There was nothing wrong or queer with the recollection ofthe scenes they brought to him. His memory photographed only perfectdays, and he dreaded to have them end. 

Before those weeks were over Richard began to feel that he belonged toBarby in a way, and she to him. There were many little scenes of which nosnapshot could be taken, which left indelible impressions. 

For instance, those evenings in the dim room lighted only by themoonlight streaming in through the open windows, when Barby sat at thepiano with Georgina beside her, singing, while he looked out over the seaand felt the soul of him stir vaguely, as if he had wings somewhere, waiting to be unfurled. 

The last Sunday of his vacation he went to church with Barbara andGeorgina. It wasn't the Church of the Pilgrims, but another white-toweredone near by. The president of the bank was one of the ushers. He calledRichard by name when he shook hands with the three of them at the door. That in itself gave Richard a sense of importance and of being welcome. It was a plain old-fashioned church, its only decoration a big bowl oftiger-lilies on a table down in front of the pulpit. When he took hisseat in one of the high front pews he felt that he had never been in sucha quiet, peaceful place before. 

They were very early. The windows were open, and now and then a breezeblowing in from the sea fluttered the leaves of a hymn-book lying open onthe front seat. Each time they fluttered he heard another sound also, asfaint and sweet as if it were the ringing of little crystal bells. Georgina, on the other side of Barby, heard it too, and they looked ateach other questioningly. Then Richard discovered where the tinkle camefrom, and pointed upward to call her attention to it. There, from thecenter of the ceiling swung a great, old-fashioned chandelier, hung witha circle of pendant prisms, each one as large and shining as the oneUncle Darcy had given her. 

Georgina knew better than to whisper in such a place, but she couldn'thelp leaning past Barby so that Richard could see her lips silently formthe words, "Rainbow Club. " She wondered if Mr. Gates had started it. There were enough prisms for nearly every member in the church to claimone. 

Barby, reading the silent message of her lips and guessing that Georginawas wondering over the discovery, moved her own lips to form the words, "just _honorary_ members. "

Georgina nodded her satisfaction. It was good to know that there were somany of them in the world, all working for the same end, whether theyrealized it or not. 

Just before the service began an old lady in the adjoining pew next toRichard, reached over the partition and offered him several cloves. Hewas too astonished to refuse them and showed them to Barby, not knowingwhat to do with them. She leaned down and whispered behind her fan:

"She eats them to keep her awake in church. "

Richard had no intention of going to sleep, but he chewed one up, findingit so hot it almost strangled him. Every seat was filled in a short time, and presently a drowsiness crept into the heated air which began to weavesome kind of a spell around him. His shoes were new and his collar chafedhis neck. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier. He stared at the liliestill the whole front of the church seemed filled with them. He looked upat the chandelier and began to count the prisms, and watch for the timesthat the breeze swept across them and set them to tinkling. 

Then, the next thing that he knew he was waking from a long doze onBarby's shoulder. She was fanning him with slow sweeps of her white-feathered fan which smelled deliciously of some faint per-fume, and theman from Boston was singing all alone, something about still waves andbeing brought into a haven. 

A sense of Sabbath peace and stillness enfolded him, with the beauty ofthe music and the lilies, the tinkling prisms, the faint, warm perfumewafted across his face by Barby's fan. The memory of it all stayed withhim as something very sacred and sweet, he could not tell why, unless itwas that Barby's shoulder was such a dear place for a little motherlesslad's head to lie. 

Georgina, leaning against Barby on the other side, half asleep, sat upand straightened her hat when the anthem began. Being a Huntingdon shecould not turn as some people did and stare up at the choir loft behindher when that wonderful voice sang alone. She looked up at the prismsinstead, and as she looked it seemed to her that the voice was the voiceof the white angel Hope, standing at the prow of a boat, its golden wingssweeping back, as storm-tossed but triumphant, it brought the vessel inat last to happy anchorage. 

The words which the voice sang were the words on which the rainbow hadrested, that day she read them to Aunt Elspeth: _"So He bringeth theminto their desired haven. "_ They had seemed like music then, but now, rolling upward, as if Hope herself were singing them at the prow ofLife's tossing shallop, they were more than music. They voiced the joy ofgreat desire finding great fulfilment. 

Chapter XXX

Nearing the End

"Old Mr. Potter has had a stroke. "

Georgina called the news up to Richard as she paused at the foot of theGreen Stairs on her way to the net-mender's house. 

"Belle sent a note over a little while ago and I'm taking the answerback. Come and go with me. "

Richard, who had been trundling Captain Kidd around on his forefeet inthe role of wheelbarrow, dropped the dog's hind legs which he had beenusing as handles and came jumping down the steps, two at a time to do herbidding. 

"Belle's gone over to take care of things, " Georgina explained, with animportant air as they walked along. "There's a man to help nurse him, butshe'll stay on to the end. " Her tone and words were Tippy's own as shemade this announcement. 

"End of what?" asked Richard. "And what's a stroke?"

Half an hour earlier Georgina could not have answered his question, butshe explained now with the air of one who has had a lifetime ofexperience. It was Mrs. Triplett's fund she was drawing on, however, andold Jeremy's. Belle's note had started them to comparing reminiscences, and out of their conversation Georgina had gathered many gruesome facts. 

"You may be going about as well and hearty as usual, and suddenly it'llstrike you to earth like lightning, and it may leave you powerless tomove for weeks and sometimes even years. You may know all that's going onaround you but not be able to speak or make a sign. Mr. Potter isn't asbad as that, but he's speechless. With him the end may come any time, yethe may linger on for nobody knows how long. "

Richard had often passed the net-mender's cottage in the machine, andstared in at the old man plying his twine-shuttle in front of the door. The fact that he was Emmett's father and ignorant of the secret whichRichard shared, made an object of intense interest out of an otherwiseunattractive and commonplace old man. Now that interest grew vast andovershadowing as the children approached the house. 

Belle, stepping to the front door when she heard the gate click, motionedfor them to go around to the back. As they passed an open side window, each looked in, involuntarily attracted by the sight of a bed drawn upclose to it. Then they glanced at each other, startled and awed by whatthey saw, and bumped into each other in their haste to get by as quicklyas possible. 

On the bed lay a rigid form, stretched out under a white counterpane. Allthat showed of the face above the bushy whiskers was as waxen looking asif death had already touched it, but the sunken eyes half open, showedthat they were still in the mysterious hold of what old Jeremy called a"living death. " It was a sight which neither of them could put out oftheir minds for days afterward. 

Belle met them at the back door, solemn, unsmiling, her hushed tonesadding to the air of mystery which seemed to shroud the house. As shefinished reading the note a neighbor came in the back way and Belle askedthe children to wait a few minutes. They dropped down on the grass whileBelle, leaning against the pump, answered Mrs. Brown's questions in lowtones. 

She had been up all night, she told Mrs. Brown. Yes, she was going tostay on till the call came, no matter whether it was a week or a year. Mrs. Brown spoke in a hoarse whisper which broke now and then, lettingher natural voice through with startling effect. 

"It's certainly noble of you, " she declared. "There's not many who wouldput themselves out to do for an old person who hadn't any claim on themthe way you are doing for him. There'll surely be stars in _your_crown. "

Later, as the children trudged back home, sobered by all they had seenand heard, Georgina broke the silence. 

"Well, I think we ought to put Belle's name on the very top line of ourclub book. She ought to be an honary member--the very honaryest one ofall. "

"Why?" asked Richard. "You heard all Mrs. Brown said. Seems to me whatshe's doing to give old Mr. Potter a good time is the very noblest----"

There was an amazed look on Richard's face as he interrupted with theexclamation:

"Gee-minee! You don't call what that old man's having a good time, doyou?"

"Well, it's good to what it would be if Belle wasn't taking care of him. And if she does as Mrs. Brown says, 'carries some comfort into the valleyof the shadow for him, making his last days bright, ' isn't that the verybiggest rainbow anybody could make?"

"Ye-es, " admitted Richard in a doubtful tone. "Maybe it is if you put itthat way. "

They walked a few blocks more in silence, then he said:

"I think _Dan_ ought to be an honary member. "

It was Georgina's turn to ask why. 

"Aw, you know why! Taking the blame on himself the way he did andeverything. "

"But he made just as bad times for Uncle Darcy and Aunt Elspeth as hemade good times for Mr. Potter and Emmett. I don't think he has any rightto belong at all. "

They argued the question hotly for a few minutes, coming nearer to aquarrel than they had ever been before, and only dropping it as theycrossed to a side street which led into the dunes. 

"Let's turn here and go home this way, " suggested Richard. "Let's go lookat the place where we buried the pouch and see if the sand has shiftedany. "

Nothing was changed, however, except that the holes they had dug werefilled to the level now, and the sand stretched an unbroken surface asbefore the day of their digging. 

"Cousin James says that if ever the gold comes to the top we can have it, because he paid the woman. But if it ever does I won't be here to see it. I've got to go home in eight more days. "

He stood kicking his toes into the sand as he added dolefully, "Here itis the end of the summer and we've only played at being pirates. We'venever gone after the real stuff in dead earnest, one single time. "

"I know, " admitted Georgina. "First we had to wait so long for yourportrait to be finished and then you went off on the yacht, and all inbetween times things have happened so fast there never was any time. Butwe found something just as good as pirate stuff--that note in the riflewas worth more to Uncle Darcy than a chest of gold. "

"And Captain Kidd was as good as a real pirate, " said Richard, brightening at the thought, "for he brought home a bag of real gold, andwas the one who started us after the wild-cat woman. I guess Uncle Darcywould rather know what she told him than have a chest of ducats andpearls. "

"We can go next summer, " suggested Georgina. 

"Maybe I won't be here next summer. Dad always wants to try new places onhis vacation. He and Aunt Letty like to move. But I'd like to stay herealways. I hate to go away until I find out the end of things. I wish Icould stay until the letter is found and Dan comes home. "

"You may be a grown-up man before either of those things happen, "remarked Georgina sagely. 

"Then I'll know I'll be here to see 'm, " was the triumphant answer, "because when I'm a man I'm coming back here to live all the rest of mylife. It's the nicest place there is. "

"If anything happens sooner I'll write and tell you, " promised Georgina. 

Something happened the very next morning, however, and Georgina kept partof her promise though not in writing, when she came running up the GreenStairs, excited and eager. Her news was so tremendously important thatthe words tumbled over each other in her haste to tell it. She couldhardly make herself understood. The gist of it was that a long nightletter had just arrived from her father, saying that he had landed in SanFrancisco and was taking the first homeward bound train. He would stop inWashington for a couple of days to attend to some business, and then wascoming home for a long visit. And--this was the sentence Georgina savedtill last to electrify Richard with:

"_Am bringing Dan with me. _"

"He didn't say where he found him or anything else about it, " addedGeorgina, "only 'prepare his family for the surprise. ' So Barby wentstraight down there to Fishburn Court and she's telling Aunt Elspeth andUncle Darcy now, so they'll have time to get used to the news before hewalks in on them. "

They sat down on the top step with the dog between them. 

"They must know it by this time, " remarked Georgina. "Oh, don't you wishyou could see what's happening, and how glad everybody is? Uncle Darcywill want to start right out with his bell and ring it till it cracks, telling the whole town. "

"But he won't do it, " said Richard. "He promised he wouldn't. "

"Anyhow till Belle says he can, " amended Georgina. "I'm sure she'll sayso when 'the call' comes, but nobody knows when that will be. It may besoon and it may not be for years. "

They sat there on the steps a long time, talking quietly, but with theholiday feeling that one has when waiting for a procession to pass by. The very air seemed full of that sense of expectancy, of waiting forsomething to happen. 

Chapter XXXI

Comings and Goings

Out towards the cranberry bogs went the Towncrier. No halting step thistime, no weary droop of shoulders. It would have taken a swift-footed boyto keep pace with him on this errand. He was carrying the news to Belle. What he expected her to say he did not stop to ask himself, nor did henotice in the tumultuous joy which kept his old heart pounding atunwonted speed, that she turned white with the suddenness of his telling, and then a wave of color surged over her face. Her only answer was tolead him into the room where the old net-mender lay helpless, turningappealing eyes to her as she entered, with the look in them that one seesin the eyes of a grateful dumb animal. His gaze did not reach as far asthe Towncrier, who halted on the threshold until Belle joined him there. She led him outside. 

"You see for yourself how it is, " was all she said. "Do as you think bestabout it. "

Out on the road again the Towncrier stood hesitating, uncertain whichcourse to take. Twice he started in the direction of home, then retracedhis steps again to stand considering. Finally he straightened up with adetermined air and started briskly down the road which led to the centerof the town. Straight to the bank he went, asking for Mr. Gates, and amoment later was admitted into the president's private office. 

"And what can I do for you, Uncle Dan'l?" was the cordial greeting. 

The old man dropped heavily into the chair set out for him. He was out ofbreath from his rapid going. 

"You can do me one of the biggest favors I ever asked of anybody if youonly will. Do you remember a sealed envelope I brought in here the firstof the summer and asked you to keep for me till I called for it?"

"Yes, do you want it now?"

"I'm going to show you what's in it. "

He had such an air of suppressed excitement as he said it and hisbreathing was so labored, that Mr. Gates wondered what could havehappened to affect him so. When he came back from the vault he carriedthe envelope which had been left in his charge earlier in the summer. Uncle Darcy tore it open with fingers that trembled in their eagerness. 

"What I'm about to show you is for your eyes alone, " he said. He took outa crumpled sheet of paper which had once been torn in two and pastedtogether again in clumsy fashion. It was the paper which had been waddedup in the rifle, which Belle had seized with hysterical fury, torn in twoand flung from her. 

"There! Read that!" he commanded. 

Mr. Gates knew everybody in town. He had been one of the leading citizenswho had subscribed to the monument in Emmett Potter's honor. He couldscarcely believe the evidence of his own eyes as he read the confessionthrust into his hands, and he had never been more surprised at any taleever told him than the one Uncle Darcy related now of the way it had beenfound, and his promise to Belle Triplett. 

"I'm not going to make it public while old Potter hangs on, " he said inconclusion. "I'll wait till he's past feeling the hurts of earth. But Mr. Gates, I've had word that my Danny's coming home. I can't let the boycome back to dark looks and cold shoulders turned on him everywhere. Ithought if you'd just start the word around that he's all right--thatsomebody else confessed to what he's accused of--that you'd seen theproof with your own eyes and could vouch for his being all right--if_you'd_ just give him a welcoming hand and show you believed in himit would make all the difference in the world in Danny's home-coming. Youneedn't mention any names, " he pleaded. "I know it'll make a lot of talkand surmising, but that won't hurt anybody. If you could just do that----"

When the old man walked out of the president's office he carried his headas high as if he had been given a kingdom. He had been given what wasworth more to him, the hearty handclasp of a man whose "word was as goodas a bond, " and the promise that Dan should be welcomed back to the townby great and small, as far as was in his power to make that welcomecordial and widespread. 

 * * * * *

Dan did not wait in Washington while Doctor Huntingdon made his report. He came on alone, and having missed the boat, took the railroad journeydown the Cape. In the early September twilight he stepped off the car, feeling as if he were in a strange dream. But when he turned into one ofthe back streets leading to his home, it was all so familiar andunchanged that he had the stranger feeling of never having been away. Itwas the past ten years that seemed a dream. 

He had not realized how he loved the old town or the depth of his longingfor it, until he saw it now, restored to him. Even the familiar, savorysmells floating out from various supper tables as he passed along, gavehim keen enjoyment. Some of them had been unknown all the time of hiswanderings in foreign lands. The voices, the type of features, the dressof the people he passed, the veriest trifles which he never noticed whenhe lived among them, thrilled him now with a sense of having come back tohis own. 

Half a dozen fishermen passed him, their boots clumping heavily. Herecognized two of them if not as individuals, as members of families hehad known, from their resemblance to the older ones. Then he turned hishead aside as he reached the last man. He was not ready to be recognizedhimself, yet. He wanted to go home first, and this man at the end wasPeter Winn. He had sailed in his boat many a time. 

A cold fog was settling over the Court when he turned into it. Assilently as the fog itself he stole through the sand and in at the gate. The front door was shut and the yellow blind pulled down over the window, but the lamp behind it sent out a glow, reaching dimly through the fog. He crept up close to it to listen for the sound of voices, and suddenlytwo blended shadows were thrown on the blind. The old man was helping hiswife up from her rocking chair and supporting her with a careful arm ashe guided her across to the table. His voice rang out cheerfully to thewaiting listener. 

"That's it, Mother! That's it! Just one more step now. Why, you're doingfine! I knew the word of Danny's coming home would put you on your feetagain. The lad'll be here soon, thank God! Maybe before anothernightfall. "

A moment later and the lamp-light threw another shadow on the yellowblind, plain as a photograph. It was well that the fog drew a white veilbetween it and the street, for it was a picture of joy too sacred forcurious eyes to see. 

_Danny had come home!_

 * * * * *

It was the tenth of September. The town looked strangely deserted withnearly all the summer people gone. The railroad wharf was the only placewhere there was the usual bustle and crowd, and that was because the_Dorothy Bradford_ was gathering up its passengers for the last tripof the season. 

Richard was to be one of them, and a most unwilling one. Not that he wassorry to be going back to school. He had missed Binney and the gang, andcould hardly wait to begin swapping experiences with them. But he wasleaving Captain Kidd behind. Dogs were not allowed in the apartment houseto which his father and Aunt Letty intended moving the next week. 

There had been a sorry morning in the garage when the news was broken tohim. He crept up into the machine and lay down on the back seat, andcried and cried with his arms around Captain Kidd's neck. The faithfullittle tongue reached out now and then to lap away his master's tears, and once he lifted his paw and clawed at the little striped shirt waistas if trying to convey some mute comfort. 

"You're just the same as folks!" sobbed Richard, hugging the shaggy head, laid lovingly on his breast. "And it's _cruel_ of 'em to make megive you away. " Several days had passed since that unhappy morning, however, and Richard did not feel quite so desolate over the separationnow. For one thing it had not been necessary to give up all claim onCaptain Kidd to insure him a good home. Georgina had gladly accepted theoffer of half of him, and had coaxed even Tippy into according him areluctant welcome. 

The passengers already on deck watched with interest the group near thegang-plank. Richard was putting the clever little terrier through hiswhole list of tricks. 

"It's the last time, old fellow, " he said implor-ingly when the doghesitated over one of them. "Go on and do it for me this once. Maybe I'llnever see you again till I'm grown up and you're too old to remember me. "

"That's what you said about Dan's coming home, " remarked Georgina fromunder the shade of her pink parasol. That parasol and the pink dress andthe rose-like glow on the happy little face was attracting even moreadmiration from the passengers than Captain Kidd's tricks. Barbara, standing beside her, cool and dainty in a white dress and pale greensweater and green parasol, made almost as much of a picture. 

"You talked that way about never expecting to see Danny till you weregrown, " continued Georgina, "and it turned out that you not only saw him, but were with him long enough to hear some of his adventures. It would bethe same way about your coming back here if you'd just keep hoping hardenough. "

"Come Dicky, " called Mr. Moreland from the upper deck. "They're about totake in the gang-plank. Don't get left. "

Maybe it was just as well that there was no time for good-byes. Maybe itwas more than the little fellow could have managed manfully. As it washis voice sounded suspiciously near breaking as he called back over hisshoulder, almost gruffly:

"Well you--you be as good to my half of him as you are to yours. "

A moment or two later, leaning over the railing of the upper deck hecould see Captain Kidd struggling and whining to follow him. But Barbyheld tightly to the chain fastened to his collar, and Georgina, herprecious pink parasol cast aside, knelt on the wharf beside thequivering, eager little body to clasp her arms about it and pour out aflood of comforting endearments. 

Wider and wider grew the stretch of water between the boat and the wharf. Richard kept on waving until he could no longer distinguish the littlegroup on the end of the pier. But he knew they would be there until thelast curl of smoke from the steamer disappeared around Long Point. 

"Here, " said the friendly voice of a woman stand ing next to him. She hadbeen one of the interested witnesses of the parting. She thrust an opera-glass into his hands. For one more long satisfying moment he had anotherglimpse of the little group, still faithfully waving, still watching. Howvery, very far away they were!

Suddenly the glass grew so blurry and queer it was no more good, and hehanded it back to the woman. At that moment he would have given all thepirate gold that was ever on land or sea, were it his to give, to be backon that pier with the three of them, able to claim that old seaport townas his home for ever and always. And then the one thing that it hadtaught him came to his help. With his head up, he looked back to thedistant shore where the Pilgrim monument reared itself like a watchfulgiant, and said hopefully, under his breath: "Well, _some day!_"

 * * * * *

Georgina, waking earlier than usual that September morning, looked up andread the verse on the calendar opposite her bed, which she had jeadevery, morning since the month came in. 

 "Like ships my days sail swift to port, I know not if this be The one to bear a cargo rare Of happiness to me. 

"But I _do_ know this time, " she thought exultingly, sitting up inbed to look out the window and see what kind of weather the dawn hadbrought. This was the day her father was coming home. He was coming fromBoston on a battleship, and she and Barby were going out to meet him assoon as it was sighted in the harbor. 

She had that quivery, excited feeling which sometimes seizes travelers asthey near the journey's end, as if she herself were a little ship, putting into a long-wished-for port. Well, it would be like that in away, she thought, to have her father's arms folded around her, to come atlast into the strange, sweet intimacy she had longed for ever since shefirst saw Peggy Burrell and the Captain. 

And it was reaching another long-desired port to have Barby's happinessso complete. As for Uncle Darcy he said himself that he couldn't begladder walking the shining streets of heaven, than he was going alongthat old board-walk with Danny beside him, and everybody so friendly andso pleased to see him. 

Georgina still called him Danny in her thoughts, but it had been somewhata shock the first time she saw him, to find that he was a grown man witha grave, mature face, instead of the boy which Uncle Darcy's way ofspeaking of him had led her to expect. He had already been up to thehouse to tell them the many things they were eager to know about themonths he had spent with Doctor Huntingdon and their long trip hometogether. And listening, Georgina realized how very deep was the respectand admiration of this younger man for her father, and his work, and, everything he said made her more eager to see and know him. 

Uncle Darcy and Dan were with them when they put out in the motor boat tomeet the battleship. It was almost sunset when they started, and the manat the wheel drove so fast they felt the keen whip of the wind as theycut through the waves. They were glad to button their coats, even up totheir chins. Uncle Darcy and Dan talked all the way over, but Georginasat with her hand tightly locked in her mother's, sharing her tenseexpectancy, never saying a word. 

Then at last the little boat stopped alongside the big one. There were afew moments of delay before Georgina looked up and saw her father comingdown to them. He was just as his photograph had pictured him, tall, erect, commanding, and strangely enough her first view of him was withhis face turned to one side. Then it was hidden from her as he gatheredBarby into his arms and held her close. 

Georgina, watching that meeting with wistful, anxious eyes, felt her lastlittle doubt of him vanish, and when he turned to her with his stern lipscurved into the smile she had hoped for, and with out-stretched arms, shesprang into them and threw her arms around his neck with such a welcomingclasp that his eyes filled with tears. 

Then, remembering certain little letters which he had re-read many timeson his homeward voyage, he held her off to look into her eyes and whisperwith a tender smile which made the teasing question a joy to her:

"Which is it now? 'Dear Sir' or 'Dad-o'-my heart?'"

The impetuous pressure of her soft little cheek against his face wasanswer eloquent enough. As they neared the shore a bell tolled out overthe water. It was the bell of Saint Peter, patron saint of the fisher-folk and all those who dwell by the sea. Then Long Point lighthouseflashed a wel-come, and the red lamp of Wood End blinked in answer. Onthe other side Highland Light sent its great, unfailing glare out overthe Atlantic, and the old Towncrier, looking up, saw the first starsshining overhead. 

Alongshore the home lights began to burn. One shone out in Fishburn Courtwhere Aunt Elspeth sat waiting. One threw its gleam over the edge of thecranberry bog from the window where Belle kept faithful vigil--where shewould continue to keep it until "the call" came to release the watcher aswell as the stricken old soul whose peace she guarded. And up in the biggray house by the break-water, where Tippy was keeping supper hot, asupper fit to set before a king, lights blazed from every window. 

Pondering on what all these lights stood for, the old man moved away fromthe others, and took his place near the prow. His heart was too full justnow to talk as they were doing. Presently he felt a touch on his arm. Georgina had laid her hand on it with the understanding touch of perfectcomradeship. They were his own words she was repeating to him, but theybore the added weight of her own experience now. 

"It _pays_ to keep Hope at the prow, Uncle Darcy. "

"Aye, lass, " he answered tremulously, "it does. "

"And we're coming into port with all flags flying!"

"_That_ we are!"

She stood in silent gladness after that, the rest of the way, her curlsflying back in the wind made by the swift motion of the boat, the whitespray dashing up till she could taste the salt of it on her lips; alittle figure of Hope herself, but of Hope riding triumphantly into theport of its fulfillment. It was for them all--those words of the oldpsalm on which the rainbow had rested, and which the angel voice hadsung--"_Into their desired haven_. "

THE END