The fact that it was weather-stained and dark as an Indian with the paint worn off its face in patches, only enhanced its interest in her eyes. It seemed to bear the scars of one who has suffered and come up through great tribulation. No matter how battered this Lady of Mystery was in appearance, to Georgina she still stood for “Hope,” clinging to her wreath, still facing the future with head held high, the symbol of all those, who having ships at sea, watch and wait for their home-coming with proud, undaunted courage.
Only an old wooden image, but out of a past of shipwreck and storm its message survived and in some subtle manner found its way into the heart of Georgina.
“And I’ll do it, too,” she resolved valiantly, looking up at it. “I’m going to hope so hard that he’ll be the way I want him to be, that he’ll just _have_ to. And if he isn’t--then I’ll just steer straight onward as if I didn’t mind it, so Barby’ll never know how disappointed I am. Barby must never know that.”
A few minutes later, the gold beads being delivered into Mrs. Tupman’s own hands, Georgina took her way homeward, considerably lighter of heart, for those moments of reflection in the swing. As she passed the antique shop a great gray cat on the door-step, rose and stretched itself.
“Nice kitty!” she said, stopping to smooth the thick fur which stood up as he arched his back.
It was “Grandpa,” to whose taste for fish she owed her prism and the bit of philosophy which was to brighten not only her own life but all those which 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 beach back of it she saw several people whom she recognized. Captain Burrell was in the water with Peggy and Bailey and half a dozen other children from the Inn. They were all splashing and laughing. They seemed to be having some sort of a game. She stood a moment wishing that she had on her bathing suit and was down in the water with them. She could swim better than any of the children there. But she hadn’t been in the sea since Barby left. That was one of the things she promised in their dark hour 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 to walk. 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 and walked slowly on. She felt that if she could do it without having to give up Barby, she’d be willing to change places with Peggy Burrell. She’d take her homely little pale, freckled face, straight hair and--yes, even her limp, for the right to cling to that strong protecting shoulder as Peggy was doing there in the water, and to whisper in his ear, “Dad-o-my-heart.”
