Georgina of the Rainbows   By: Annie F. Johnston (1863-1931)

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

To My 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 winter day this story might have had a more seemly beginning; but, being a true record, it must start with that sneeze, because it was the first happening in Georgina Huntingdon's life which she could remember distinctly.

She was in her high chair by a window overlooking a gray sea, and with a bib under her chin, was being fed dripping spoonfuls of bread and milk from the silver porringer which rested on the sill. The bowl was almost on a level with her little blue shoes which she kept kicking up and down on the step of her high chair, wherefore the restraining hand which seized her ankles at intervals. It was Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which clutched her, and Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which fed her, so there was not the usual dilly dallying over Georgina's breakfast as when her mother held the spoon. She always made a game of it, chanting nursery rhymes in a 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, who lived with them. "Tippy" the child called her before she could speak plainly 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 to make a game of Georgina's breakfast, even if she had known how. Not once did she stop to say, "Curly locks, Curly locks, wilt thou be mine?" or to press her face suddenly against Georgina's dimpled rose leaf cheek as if it were somthing too temptingly dear and sweet to be resisted. She merely said, "Here!" each time she thrust the spoon towards her.

Mrs. Triplett was in an especial hurry this morning, and did not even look 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 the house which required a man's hand. Although he must have been nearly eighty years old, he came in, tall and unbending, with a big log across his shoulder. He walked stiffly, but his back was as straight as the long poker with which he mended the fire.