and the great granite blocks which formed the break-water.

Mrs. Triplett's time for lessons was when Georgina was following her
about the house. Such following taught her to move briskly, for Tippy,
like time and tide, never waited, and it behooved one to be close at her
heels if one would see what she put into a pan before she whisked it into
the oven. Also it was necessary to keep up with her as she moved swiftly
from the cellar to the pantry if one would hear her thrilling tales of
Indians and early settlers and brave forefathers of colony times.

There was a powder horn hanging over the dining room mantel, which had
been in the battle of Lexington, and Tippy expected Georgina to find the
same inspiration in it which she did, because the forefather who carried
it was an ancestor of each.

"The idea of a descendant of one of the Minutemen being afraid of
_rats!_" she would say with a scornful rolling of her words which
seemed to wither her listener with ridicule. "Or of an empty garret!
_Tut!_"

When Georgina was no more than six, that disgusted "Tut!" would start her
instantly down a dark cellar-way or up into the dreaded garret, even when
she could feel the goose-flesh rising all over her. Between the
porringer, which obliged her to be a little lady, and the powder horn,
which obliged her to be brave, even while she shivered, some times
Georgina felt that she had almost too much to live up to. There were
times when she was sorry that she had ancestors. She was proud to think
that one of them shared in the honors of the tall Pilgrim monument
overlooking the town and harbor, but there were days when she would have
traded him gladly far an hour's play with two little Portugese boys and