the cause of her terror, never thought to explain that they were false
and had been made by a man in some out-of-the-way corner of Yorkshire,
instead of by the Almighty, and that their removal was painless.

It was several years before Georgina learned the truth, and the
impression made by the accident grew into a lurking fear which often
haunted her as time wore on. She never knew at what moment she might fly
apart herself. That it was a distressing experience she knew from the
look on old Jeremy's face and the desperate pace at which he set off to
have himself mended.

She held her breath long enough to hear the door bang shut after him and
his hob-nailed shoes go scrunch, scrunch, through the gravel of the path
around the house, then she broke out crying again so violently that Tippy
had hard work quieting her. She picked up the silver porringer from the
floor and told her to look at the pretty bowl. The fall had put a dent
into its side. And what would Georgina's great-great aunt have said could
she have known what was going to happen to her handsome dish, poor lady!
Surely she never would have left it to such a naughty namesake! Then, to
stop her sobbing, Mrs. Triplett took one tiny finger-tip in her large
ones, and traced the name which was engraved around the rim in tall,
slim-looped letters: the name which had passed down through many
christenings to its present owner, "Georgina Huntingdon."

Failing thus to pacify the frightened child, Mrs. Triplett held her up to
the window overlooking the harbor, and dramatically bade her "hark!"
Standing with her blue shoes on the window-sill, and a tear on each pink
cheek, Georgina flattened her nose against the glass and obediently
listened.