running down Georgina's face. The next instant she was up, and with her
arms around the child, was gently pushing her ahead of her out of the
room, into the hall. With the door shut behind her she said soothingly:

"Barby didn't know they were going to tell such unhappy stories, darling.
I shouldn't have let you stay."

"But I _want_ to know," sobbed Georgina. "When people you love have
trouble you ought to know, so's to be kinder to them. Oh, Barby, I'm so
sorry I ever was saucy to him. And I wish I hadn't teased his cats. I
tied paper bags on all of John Darcy and Mary Darcy's paws, and he said I
made old Y-yellownose n-nervous, tickling his ears----"

Barbara stopped the sobbing confessions with a kiss and took Georgina's
jacket from the hatrack.

"Here," she said. "It's bad for you to sit in the house all day and
listen to grown people talk. Slip into this and run outdoors with your
skipping rope a while. Uncle Darcy has had very great trouble, but he's
learned to bear it like a hero, and nothing would make him grieve more
than to know that any shadow of his sorrow was making you unhappy. The
way for you to help him most is to be as bright and jolly as you can, and
to _tease_ his old cats once in a while."

Georgina looked up through her tears, her dimples all showing, and threw
her arms around her adoringly.

"What a funny mother you are, Barby. Not a bit like the ones in books."

A cold wind was blowing the fog away. She raced up and down the beach for