“I can’t catch them. They bob around so. That’s the way I used to be, always on the move. They called me ‘Bouncing Bet!’”
“Tell me about that time,” urged Georgina. Back among early memories Aunt Elspeth’s mind walked with firm, unfailing tread. It was only among those of later years that she hesitated and groped her way as if lost in fog. By the time the clock had struck the hours twice more Georgina felt that she knew intimately a mischievous girl whom her family called Bouncing Bet for her wild ways, but who bore no trace of a resemblance to the feeble old creature who recounted her pranks.
And the blue-eyed romp who could sail a boat like a boy or swim like a mackerel grew up into a slender slip of a lass with a shy grace which made one think of a wild-flower. At least that is what the old daguerreotype showed Georgina when Aunt Elspeth sent her rummaging through a trunk to find it. It was taken in a white dress standing beside a young sailor in his uniform. No wonder Uncle Darcy looked proud in the picture. But Georgina never would have known it was Uncle Darcy if she hadn’t been told. He had changed, too.
The picture make Georgina think of one of Barby’s songs, and presently when Aunt Elspeth was tired of talking she sang it to her:
“Hand in hand when our life was May.
Hand in hand when our hair is gray.
Sorrow and sun for everyone
As the years roll on.
Hand in hand when the long night tide
Gently covers us side by side------
Ah, lad, though we know not when,
Love will be with us forever then.
Always the same, Darby my own,
Always the same to your old wife Joan!”
After that there were other songs which Aunt Elspeth asked for, “Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast,” and “Robin Adair.” Then came a long tiresome pause when Georgina didn’t know what to do next, and Aunt Elspeth turned her head restlessly on the pillow and seemed uneasy.
Georgina wished with all her heart she was out of the stuffy little bedroom. If she had gone with the others, she would be speeding along the smooth, white road now, coming home from Brewster, with the wind and sunshine of all the wide, free outdoors around her.
Aunt Elspeth drew a long, tired sigh.
“Maybe you’d like me to read to you,” ventured Georgina. She hesitated over making such an offer, because there were so few books in the house. Nothing but the almanac looked interesting. Aunt Elspeth assented, and pointed out a worn little volume of devotions on top of the bureau, saying:
“That’s what Dan’l reads me on Sundays.”