Georgina of the Rainbows

by Annie F. Johnston

  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 chairin which she sat was on a high platform inside the booth, so that allmight behold her. Dressed in a quaint old costume borrowed from thechests in the Figurehead House, she represented "A Little Girl of LongAgo."

  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 infashions half a century old were also on exhibition.

  With unfailing politeness Georgina explained to the curious summerpeople who thronged around her, that they all belonged in the housewhere the figurehead of Hope sat on the portico roof, and were not forsale at any price.

  Until to-day Georgina had been unconscious that she possessed anyunusual personal charms, except her curls. Her attention had been calledto them from the time she was old enough to understand remarks peoplemade about them as she passed along the street. Their beauty would havebeen a great pleasure to her if Tippy had not impressed upon her thefact that looking in the mirror makes one vain, and it's wicked to bevain. One way in which Tippy guarded her against the sin of vanity wasto mention some of her bad points, such as her mouth being a trifle toolarge, or her nose not quite so shapely as her mother's, each timeanyone unwisely called attention to her "glorious hair."

  Another way was to repeat a poem from a book called "Songs for theLittle Ones at Home," the same book which had furnished the "Landing ofthe Pilgrims" 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 than any artistin 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 groupwhich approached 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 apage of 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 recollectionof it came to her. There was no longer any secret looming up between herand Barby like a dreadful wall. The letter telling all about thewonderful and exciting things which had happened in her absence wasalready on its way to Kentucky. It was not a letter to be proud of. Itwas scrawled as fast as she could write it with a pencil, and she knewperfectly well that a dozen or more words were misspelled, but shecouldn't take time to correct them, or to think of easy words to put intheir places. But Barby wouldn't care. She would be so happy for UncleDarcy's sake and so interested in knowing that her own little daughterhad had an important part in finding the good news that she wouldn'tnotice the spelling or the 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 GrayInn. They had been at the Inn several days, and she had noticed themeach time she passed them, because the children seemed on suchsurprisingly intimate terms with their father. That he was a navalofficer she knew from the way he dressed, and that he was on a longfurlough she knew from some 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 theverse to 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 thechildren were 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 brownsplotches on her pallid little face. She limped a trifle too, as shewalked.

  With a satisfied consciousness of her own rose-leaf complexion,Georgina was almost patronizing as she bent over the table to saygraciously once more after countless number of times, "no, that is notfor 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 onthe other 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 theyadored him, even that big boy, nearly grown. And a sort of laugh comeinto the Captain's eyes each time they spoke to him, as if he thoughteverything they 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 it felt to be an orphan. What satisfaction was there in havingbeautiful curls if no big, kind hand ever passed over them in a fatherlyc
aress 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, cameback to Georgina. He smiled at her so warmly that she wondered that shecould have thought his face was stern.

  "They tell me that you are Doctor Huntingdon's little girl," he saidwith a smile that went straight to her heart. "So I've come back to askyou all about him. Where is he now and how is he? You see I have anespecial interest in your distinguished father. He pulled me through afever in the Philippines that all but ended me. I have reason toremember him for his 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 thatthere had been no letter from him for months and that she had not seenhim for nearly 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 hurtin an 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 andplay with 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 theBazaar. The last probable customer had gone, and the ladies in charge ofthe booths were beginning to dismantle them. Someone's chauffeur waswaiting to take Georgina's costume back to the Figurehead House.

  She followed Mrs. Triplett obediently into an improvised dressing-roomin the corner, behind a tall screen, and in a very few minutes was aboutto emerge 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 thestreets at this hour, she could smell supper cooking in the houses alongthe way. It would be delayed in many homes because the tide was in andpeople were running down the beach from the various cottages for a dipinto the sea. Some carried their bathing suits in bundles, some worethem under raincoats or dressing gowns, and some walked boldly alongbare-armed and bare-legged in the suits themselves.

  It was a gay scene, with touches of color in every direction. Vividgreen grass in all the door-yards, masses of roses and hollyhocks andclematis against the clean white of the houses. Color of every shade inthe caps and sweaters and bathing suits and floating motor veils andparasols, jolly laughter everywhere, and friendly voices calling backand forth across the street. It was a holiday town full of happy holidaypeople.

  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 hadleft her depressed and unhappy. The thought uppermost in her mind waswhy should there be such a difference in fathers? Why should PeggyBurrell have such an adorable one, and she be left to feel like anorphan?

  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 thepaint worn off its face in patches, only enhanced its interest in hereyes. It seemed to bear the scars of one who has suffered and come upthrough great tribulation. No matter how battered this Lady of Mysterywas in appearance, to Georgina she still stood for "Hope," clinging toher wreath, still facing the future with head held high, the symbol ofall those, who having ships at sea, watch and wait for their home-comingwith proud, 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, thathe'll just _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 ofheart, for those moments of reflection in the swing. As she passed theantique shop a great gray cat on the door-step, rose and stretcheditself.

  "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 togive up Barby, she'd be willing to change places with Peggy Burrell.She'd take her homely little pale, freckled face, straight hairand--yes, even her limp, for the right to cling to that strongprotecting shoulder as Peggy was doing there in the water, and towhisper in his ear, "Dad-o'-my-heart."