It was _The Betsey_, with Uncle Darcy pulling at the oars and
Georgina as passenger. Lifting the prism which still hung from her neck
by the pink ribbon, she looked out upon what seemed to be an enchanted
harbor. It was filled with a fleet of rainbows. Every sail was outlined
with one, every mast edged with lines of red and gold and blue. Even the
gray wharves were tinged with magical color, and the water itself, to her
reverent thought, suggested the "sea of glass mingled with fire," which
is pictured as one of the glories of the New Jerusalem.

"Isn't it _wonderful,_ Uncle Darcy?" she asked in a hushed, awed
tone. "It's just like a miracle the way this bit of glass changes the
whole world. Isn't it?"

Before he could answer, a shrill whistle sounded near at hand. They were
passing the boathouse on the beach below the Green Stairs. Looking up
they saw Richard, hanging out of the open doors of the loft, waving to
them. Georgina stood up in the boat and beckoned, but he shook his head,
pointing backward with his thumb into the studio, and disconsolately
lately shrugged his shoulders.

"He wants to go _so_ bad!" exclaimed Georgina. "Seems as if his
father's a mighty slow painter. Maybe if you'd ask him the way you did
before, Uncle Darcy, he'd let Richard off this one more time--being my
birthday, you know."

She looked at him with the bewitching smile which he usually found
impossible to resist, but this time he shook his head.

"No, I don't want him along to-day. I've brought you out here to show you
something and have a little talk with you alone. Maybe I ought to wait