Not Tippy herself had ever spoken that word with finer scorn. With a
flirt of her short skirts Georgina turned and started disdainfully up the
street.

"Wait," called Richard. He liked the sudden flare-up of her manner. There
was something convincing about it. Besides, he didn't want her to go off
in that independent way as if she meant never to come back. It was she
who had brought the Towncrier, that matchless Teller of Tales, across his
path.

[Illustration: They took their Way in the Betsey]

"I didn't say you wasn't brave," he called after her.

She hesitated, then stopped, turning half-way around.

"I just said you was a girl. Most of them _are_ 'fraid cats, but if
you ain't I don't know as I'd mind taking you along. That is," he added
cautiously, "if I could be dead sure that you're game."

At that Georgina turned all the way around and came back a few steps.

"You can try me," she answered, anxious to prove herself worthy to be
taken on such a quest, and as eager as he to begin it.

"You think of the thing you're most afraid of yourself, and tell me to do
it, and then just watch me."

Richard declined to admit any fear of anything. Georgina named several
terrors at which he stoutly shook his head, but presently with uncanny