her mother to task for allowing her to read anything of that sort.

"You'll make the lass old before her time!" he scolded. "A little scrap
like her ought to be playing with other children instead of reading books
so far over her head that she can only sort of tip-toe up to them."

"But it's the stretching that makes her grow, Uncle Darcy," Barbara
answered in an indulgent tone. He went on heedless of her interruption.

"And she tells me that she sometimes sits as much as an hour at a time,
listening to you play on the piano, especially if it's 'sad music that
makes you think of someone looking off to sea for a ship that never comes
in, or of waves creeping up in a lonely place where the fog-bell tolls.'
Those were her very words, and she looked so mournful that it worried me.
It isn't natural for a child of her age to sit with a far-away look in
her eyes, as if she were seeing things that ain't there."

Barbara laughed.

"Nonsense, Uncle Darcy. As long as she keeps her rosy cheeks and is full
of life, a little dreaming can't hurt her. You should have seen her doing
the elfin dance this morning. She entered into the spirit of it like a
little whirlwind. And, besides, there are no children anywhere near that
I can allow her to play with. I have only a few acquaintances in the
town, and they are too far from us to make visiting easy between the
children. But look at the time _I_ give to her. I play with her so
much that we're more like two chums than mother and child."

"Yes, but it would be better for both of you if you had more friends
outside. Then Georgina wouldn't feel the sadness of 'someone looking off