Georgina of the Rainbows , livre ebook

Pub One Info - Fellows Johnston Annie

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

140 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

pubOne.info present you this new edition. If old Jeremy Clapp had not sneezed his teeth into the fire that winter day this story might have had a more seemly beginning; but, being a true record, it must start with that sneeze, because it was the first happening in Georgina Huntingdon's life which she could remember distinctly.

Informations

Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819949961
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Chapter I
Her Earlier Memories
If old Jeremy Clapp had not sneezed his teeth intothe fire that winter day this story might have had a more seemlybeginning; but, being a true record, it must start with thatsneeze, because it was the first happening in Georgina Huntingdon'slife which she could remember distinctly.
She was in her high-chair by a window overlooking agray sea, and with a bib under her chin, was being fed drippingspoonfuls of bread and milk from the silver porringer which restedon the sill. The bowl was almost on a level with her little blueshoes which she kept kicking up and down on the step of herhigh-chair, wherefore the restraining hand which seized her anklesat intervals. It was Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which clutched her,and Mrs. Triplett's firm hand which fed her, so there was not theusual dilly-dallying over Georgina's breakfast as when her motherheld the spoon. She always made a game of it, chanting nurseryrhymes in a gay, silver-bell-cockle-shell sort of way, as if shewere one of the “pretty maids all in a row, ” just stepped out of apicture book.
Mrs. Triplett was an elderly widow, a distantrelative of the family, who lived with them. “Tippy” the childcalled her before she could speak plainly— a foolish name for sucha severe and dignified person, but Mrs. Triplett rather seemed tolike it. Being the working housekeeper, companion and everythingelse which occasion required, she had no time to make a game ofGeorgina's breakfast, even if she had known how. Not once did shestop to say, “Curly-locks, Curly-locks, wilt thou be mine? ” or topress her face suddenly against Georgina's dimpled rose-leaf cheekas if it were somthing too temptingly dear and sweet to beresisted. She merely said, “Here! ” each time she thrust the spoontowards her.
Mrs. Triplett was in an especial hurry this morning,and did not even look up when old Jeremy came into the room to putmore wood on the fire. In winter, when there was no garden work,Jeremy did everything about the house which required a man's hand.Although he must have been nearly eighty years old, he came in,tall and unbending, with a big log across his shoulder. He walkedstiffly, but his back was as straight as the long poker with whichhe mended the fire.
Georgina had seen him coming and going about theplace every day since she had been brought to live in this old grayhouse beside the sea, but this was the first time he had made anylasting impression upon her memory. Henceforth, she was to carrywith her as long as she should live the picture of a hale,red-faced old man with a woolen muffler wound around his leanthroat. His knitted “wrist-warmers” slipped down over his mottled,deeply-veined bands when he stooped to roll the log into the fire.He let go with a grunt. The next instant a mighty sneeze seizedhim, and Georgina, who had been gazing in fascination at the showerof sparks he was making, saw all of his teeth go flying into thefire. If his eyes had suddenly dropped from their sockets upon thehearth, or his ears floated off from the sides of his head, shecould not have been more terrified, for she had not yet learnedthat one's teeth may be a separate part of one's anatomy. It wassuch a terrible thing to see a man go to pieces in thisundreamed-of fashion, that she began to scream and writhe around inher high-chair until it nearly turned over.
She did upset the silver porringer, and what wasleft of the bread and milk splashed out on the floor, barelymissing the rug. Mrs. Triplett sprang to snatch her from thetoppling chair, thinking the child was having a spasm. She did notconnect it with old Jeremy's sneeze until she heard his wrathfulgibbering, and turned to see him holding up the teeth, which he hadfished out of the fire with the tongs.
They were an old-fashioned set such as one neversees now. They had been made in England. They were hinged togetherlike jaws, and Georgina yelled again as she saw them all blackenedand gaping, dangling from the tongs. It was not the grinning teeththemselves, however, which frightened her. It was the awfulknowledge, vague though it was to her infant mind, that a humanbody could fly apart in that way. And Tippy, not understanding thecause of her terror, never thought to explain that they were falseand had been made by a man in some out-of-the-way corner ofYorkshire, instead of by the Almighty, and that their removal waspainless.
It was several years before Georgina learned thetruth, and the impression made by the accident grew into a lurkingfear which often haunted her as time wore on. She never knew atwhat moment she might fly apart herself. That it was a distressingexperience she knew from the look on old Jeremy's face and thedesperate pace at which he set off to have himself mended.
She held her breath long enough to hear the doorbang shut after him and his hob-nailed shoes go scrunch, scrunch,through the gravel of the path around the house, then she broke outcrying again so violently that Tippy had hard work quieting her.She picked up the silver porringer from the floor and told her tolook at the pretty bowl. The fall had put a dent into its side. Andwhat would Georgina's great-great aunt have said could she haveknown 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-tipin her large ones, and traced the name which was engraved aroundthe rim in tall, slim-looped letters: the name which had passeddown through many christenings to its present owner, “GeorginaHuntingdon. ”
Failing thus to pacify the frightened child, Mrs.Triplett held her up to the window overlooking the harbor, anddramatically bade her “hark! ” Standing with her blue shoes on thewindow-sill, and a tear on each pink cheek, Georgina flattened hernose against the glass and obediently listened.
The main street of the ancient seaport town, uponwhich she gazed expectantly, curved three miles around the harbor,and the narrow board- walk which ran along one side of it all theway, ended abruptly just in front of the house in a waste of sand.So there was nothing to be seen but a fishing boat at anchor, andthe waves crawling up the beach, and nothing to be heard but thejangle of a bell somewhere down the street. The sobs broke outagain. “Hush! ” commanded Mrs. Triplett, giving her an impatientshake. “Hark to what's coming up along. Can't you stop a minute andgive the Towncrier a chance? Or is it you're trying to outdo him?”
The word “Towncrier” was meaningless to Georgina.There was nothing by that name in her linen book which held thepictures of all the animals from Ape to Zebra, and there wasnothing by that name down in Kentucky where she had lived all ofher short life until these last few weeks. She did not even knowwhether what Mrs. Triplett said was coming along would be wearing ahat or horns. The cow that lowed at the pasture bars every nightback in Kentucky jangled a bell. Georgina had no distinctrecollection of the cow, but because of it the sound of a bell wasassociated in her mind with horns. So horns were what she halfwayexpected to see, as she watched breathlessly, with her face againstthe glass.
“Hark to what he's calling! ” urged Mrs. Triplett.“A fish auction. There's a big boat in this morning with a load offish, and the Towncrier is telling everybody about it. ”
So a Towncrier was a man! The next instant Georginasaw him. He was an old man, with bent shoulders and a fringe ofgray hair showing under the fur cap pulled down to meet his ears.But there was such a happy twinkle in his faded blue eyes, suchgoodness of heart in every wrinkle of the weather-beaten old face,that even the grumpiest people smiled a little when they met him,and everybody he spoke to stepped along a bit more cheerful, justbecause the hearty way he said “ Good morning! ” made the dayseem really good.
“He's cold, ” said Tippy. “Let's tap on the windowand beckon him to come in and warm himself before he starts back totown. ”
She caught up Georgina's hand to make it do thetapping, thinking it would please her to give her a share in theinvitation, but in her touchy frame of mind it was only an addedgrievance to have her knuckles knocked against the pane, and herwails began afresh as the old man, answering the signal, shook hisbell at her playfully, and turned towards the house.
As to what happened after that, Georgina's memory isa blank, save for a confused recollection of being galloped toBanbury Cross on somebody's knee, while a big hand helped her toclang the clapper of a bell far too heavy for her to swing alone.But some dim picture of the kindly face puckered into smiles forher comforting, stayed on in her mind as an object seen through afog, and thereafter she never saw the Towncrier go kling-klangingalong the street without feeling a return of that same sense ofsafety which his song gave her that morning. Somehow, it restoredher confidence in all Creation which Jeremy's teeth had shatteredin their fall.
Taking advantage of Georgina's contentment at beingsettled on the visitor's knee, Mrs. Triplett hurried for a cloth towipe up the bread and milk. Kneeling on the floor beside it shesopped it up so energetically that what she was saying came injerks.
“It's a mercy you happened along, Mr. Darcy, or shemight have been screaming yet. I never saw a child go into such asudden tantrum. ”
The answer came in jerks also, for it took avigorous trotting of the knees to keep such a heavy child asGeorgina on the bounce. And in order that his words might notinterfere with the game he sang them to the tune of “Ride a CockHorse. ”
"There must have been— some— very good— —
Reason for such— a hulla-ba-loo! "
“I'll tell you when I come back, ” said Mrs.Triplett, on her feet again by this time and halfway to the kitchenwith the dripping floor cloth. But when she reappeared in thedoorway her own concerns had crowded out the th