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Belle spelled the word for her, and taking another sheet of paper Georgina made a fresh start. This time she did not hesitate over the spelling, but scribbled recklessly on until all that was crowding up to be said was on the paper. "Dear Sir: There are two reasons for writing this. One is about your wife. Cousin Mehitable says something is eating her heart out, and I thought you ought to know.

They agreed to be married that winter, but Georgina couldn't set the day exactly because her brother, who lived in Ontario, was coming home for a visit, and she wanted to be married while he was home. So it was arranged that she was to write Uncle Andrew and tell him what day to come. She did, and she told him to come on a Tuesday.

Georgina brought it in while I was sweeping, and showed it to Mr Hollands and me; and I was just going to give it back to Georgina, for they said that some lady must have dropped it last night and I never knew it was your ladyship's and they ran out of the room and left it in my hand and then your ladyship came in and found me with it.

Another moment passed and he leaned forward, fumbling for the key, but he couldn't find it. He had grown queerly confused and light-headed. He couldn'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 was lying limply back on the seat as if too tired to play any longer.

When I look back I look bang against the closed door every time, aid I can't make it seem as if I was seeing far down the road." "Play it's night," suggested Richard. He had put on a pair of goggles and was making a great pretence of getting ready to start. Georgina, leaning out as Rosalind had done, waved her lily hand in frantic beckonings for her rescuers to follow faster.

It was a time of much pain to Theodora, estranging herself from her brother, fancying him prejudiced against her, and shutting herself up from her true pleasures to throw herself into what had little charm for her beyond the gratification of her self-will. She really loved Georgina Finch.

Georgina wanted to cry out: "Oh, I do mind! How can you say that? I can't stand it to have my beautiful, beautiful prism ruined!" She was only a little girl herself, with no comforting shoulder to run to. But something came to her help just then. She remembered the old silver porringer with its tall, slim-looped letters. She remembered there were some things she could not do.

"My poor child," said Mr. Carroll, in a maudlin condition, "I pity thee from the bottom of my heart!" "I wish that Mr. Barry may be made to marry a hideous old maid past forty," said Georgina. "I shouldn't care what they said, but would take him straight off," said Sophie. Upon this Mrs. Carroll shook her head. "I don't suppose that he is quite all that he ought to be."

And a sort of laugh come into the Captain's eyes each time they spoke to him, as if he thought everything they said and did was perfect. A wave of loneliness swept over Georgina as she listened. There was an empty spot in her heart that ached with longing not for Barby, but for the father whom she had never known in this sweet intimate way. She knew now how if felt to be an orphan.

The two sisters looked at each other Georgina covered with the dust and cobwebs of her own cottages, her battered hat a little on one side, and her coat and skirt betraying at every seam its venerable antiquity; and Cynthia, in pale grey, her rose-pink complexion answering to the gold of her hair, with every detail of her summer dress as fresh and dainty as the toil of her maid could make it.