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"It's like looking into a different world," she cried, as she reached the kitchen door, and eagerly turned the prism from one object to another. Mrs. Triplett was scowling intently over the task of trying to turn the lid of a glass jar which refused to budge. "Oh, it even puts a rainbow around Tippy's frown," Georgina cried excitedly. Then she ran to hold the prism over Belle's eyes.
A boy going along the beach towards one of the summer cottages with a pail in his hand, made him think of it. "Pick blueberries and sell them." "I thought of that," answered Georgina, still progressing towards the grocery backward. "And it would be a good time now to slip away while Tippy's busy with the Bazaar. This is the third day.
His manner made Georgina think of "Casabianca," another poem of Tippy'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 this case. "A brave and manlike form" would be better. She repeated the verse to herself with this alteration.
Then Georgina remembered something that must have happened before she was carried home from the bungalow Captain Kidd squirming out of Tippy's arms, and Tippy with the tears streaming down her face trying to hold him and 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 dead in a few minutes more.
It was the first time she had ever had the shock of bad news. It was the first time she had ever been called upon to act for herself in such an emergency, and she felt perfectly numb, mind and body. Tippy's voice sounded a mile away when she said: "You can catch the boat. It's an hour till the Dorothy Bradford starts back to Boston."
Taking Tippy's Bible from the stand beside the bed, she opened it at random, then carried it over to the stove in order to scan the pages by the firelight streaming through the damper. The book opened at First Kings, seventeenth chapter. She held it directly in the broad rays examining the pages anxiously.
As Tippy's real name was Tippet, she thought Muff and Tippet went rather well together. One of the other kittens found a home with Ruth Deering, but the third was still unprovided for. Lessons did not stop, although there was no Miss Emily to hear them. Miss Dorothy told Marian every day what her class would have the next, and Mrs.
It would be lovely to leave a widespread heartache behind her. She wished she could live such a life that there wouldn't be a dry eye in the town when it was whispered from house to house that little Georgina Huntingdon was with the angels. She pictured Belle's grief, and Uncle Darcy's and Richard's. She had already seen Tippy's. But it was a very different thing when she thought of Barby.
When he produced a battered silver watch from the pocket of his velveteen waistcoat, holding it over her ear, she was charmed into a prolonged silence. The clack of Tippy's spoon against the crock came in from the kitchen, and now and then the fire snapped or the green fore-log made a sing-song hissing.
Here Georgina's needle gave her another jab. She laid down her hemming to listen. This was bringing the story close home, for Belle Triplett was Tippy's niece, or rather her husband's niece. While that did not make Belle one of the Huntingdon family, Georgina had always looked upon her as such. She visited at the house oftener than anyone else.
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