till you're older before I say what I want to say, but at my time of life
I'm liable to slip off without much warning, and I don't want to go till
I've said it to you."

Georgina put down her prism to stare at him in eager-eyed wonder. She was
curious to know what he could show her out here on the water, and what he
wanted to tell her that was as important as his solemn words implied.

"Wait till we come to it," he said, answering the unspoken question in
her eyes. And Georgina, who dearly loved dramatic effects in her own
story-telling, waited for something--she knew not what--to burst upon her
expectant sight.

They followed the line of the beach for some time, dodging in between
motor boats and launches, under the high railroad wharf and around the
smaller ones where the old fish-houses stood. Past groups of children,
playing in the sand they went, past artists sketching under their white
umbrellas, past gardens gay with bright masses of color, past drying nets
spread out on the shore.

Presently Uncle Darcy stopped rowing and pointed across a vacant strip of
beach between two houses, to one on the opposite side of the street.

"There it is," he announced. "That's what I wanted to show you."

Georgina followed the direction of his pointing finger.

"Oh, that!" she said in a disappointed tone. "I've seen that all my life.
It's nothing but the Figurehead House."