"Oh," said Georgia, puckering up her lips as though she were going to whistle, "you mean they turned you out?"
"Pre-cisely! exactly! They couldn't properly appreciate me, you know. Genius never is appreciated, if you observe, but is always neglected, and snubbed, and put upon, in this world. Look at Shakespeare, and Oliver Goldsmith, and all those other old fellows that got up works of fiction, and see the hard times and tribulations they had of it."
"And how long are you going to stay here?" asked Georgia.
"That depends upon as long as I behave nicely, and don't endeavor to corrupt the minds of the rising generation of Burnfield, I suppose. I've been a perfect angel since I came, and would be at all times if they didn't aggravate me. My mother was very disagreeable."
"My mother was not—mamma never was disagreeable," said Georgia.
"Indeed! Wonderful old lady she must have been then! Is she living?"
"No: she's dead," said Georgia, looking down with filling eyes.
"Ah! excuse me. I didn't know," said the boy, hastily. "And your father?"
"Dead, too."
"Possible! With whom do you live?"
"Miss Jerusha."
"Miss Jerusha—who?"
"Skamp. She lives up in that cottage."
"Skamp! There's a pretty name to talk about! Old-lady, is she?"
"Yes; old and ugly."
"Ah! I guess I sha'n't mind an introduction, then. And what brings you down here, Miss Darrell? It's my time to ask questions now."
"Why, I came down here to read; and now, look here, I wish you wouldn't keep on calling me Miss Darrell; it sounds as if you were laughing at me. Say Georgia."
"With all my heart. Georgia be it—on one condition."
"Well, what is it?"
"That you call me Charley."
"Of course I'll call you Charley," said Georgia, decidedly; "I intended to all along. You didn't expect I'd say mister, did you?"
"Of course I didn't; I never indulge in absurd expectations. And may I ask the name of the book so fortunate as to find favor in your eyes, Miss Georgia?"
"Well, it's the 'Pilgrim's Progress.' I don't think much of it either—all about a man going on a journey, and getting into all sorts of scrapes. I don't believe it ever happened at all, for my part. And now, as you seem to like taking things easy, I guess I will too; so here we go!" said Georgia, as, shoving the book into her pocket, she made a spring forward, and by some mysterious sleight of hand, only understood by cats, monkeys, sailors, and depraved youths given to mischief, she clambered up the steep side of the high, smooth rock, and perched herself in triumph on the top, like a female Apollo on the apex of Mount Parnassus.
The young gentleman on the sands lifted himself on his elbow and stared at the little girl in a sort of indolent wonder at this energetic proceeding.
"Eh, what? you're up there, are you? May I ask, Miss Georgia, if it is your custom to perch yourself up there, like Patience on a monument, whenever you wish to appreciate the beauties of literature? Oh! the amount of unnecessary trouble people put themselves to in this world! Now why—I simply ask as a matter of courtesy—what possible object can you have in risking your neck in order to be slightly elevated above your fellow-mortals, eh?"
"Just for fun," said Georgia, as standing on one toe she cut a pigeon-wing, at the imminent danger of tumbling off and breaking her neck.
"For fun! Well, it's singular what perverted notions of amusement some people have. Now I—I'm about as fond of that sort of a thing, I may safely say, as any other youth; yet you'll excuse me when I say I really cannot see the point of that joke at all."
"You couldn't do it," said Georgia, exultingly; "bet you any thing you could not."
"Well, now, I don't know about that," said the youth, surveying the rock slowly with his large, indolent eyes; "of course, it's not polite or proper to contradict a lady, or else I should beg leave to differ from you in that opinion. There are precious few things, Miss Georgia, that I ever attempted and failed to execute, though I say it. I'm what you may call a universal genius, you know, equal to a steep rock, or any other emergency, up to anything, ancient or modern, or, to use another favorite and expressive phrase of Young America, a class to which I am proud to belong—I am, in every sense of the word, 'up to snuff.'"
"Bother!" exclaimed Georgia, to whom this homily, like all the lad's speeches, was Greek, or thereabouts. "It's all very fine to lie there like a lazy old porpoise, and talk such stuff, but you can't climb this rock, say what you like—now then."
"Can't I though!" exclaimed Master Charley, flinging away his cigar and springing up with more energy than might have been expected from his previous indolence, which, however, was more than half affected. "By Jove! then, here goes to try. Miss Georgia, if in my efforts in your service I turn out to be a case of 'Accidentally killed,' you'll see that the coroner's inquest is held properly, and that all my goods and chattels, consisting of a cigar-case, a clean shirt, and a jackknife, are promptly forwarded to my bereaved relative. Now then, here goes! 'Dieu et mon droit!'"
So saying, the lad, with a great deal more skill and agility than Georgia had given him credit for, began climbing up the high rock. It was no easy task, however, for the sides were quite perpendicular and almost perfectly smooth, only suited to sailors and other aquatic monsters used to climbing impossible places.
Georgia clapped her hands and laughed her shrill elfish laugh at his desperate efforts, and, taunted by this, the boy made a sudden spring at the top, missed his footing, and tumbled off backward on the sands below.
With a sharp exclamation of alarm, Georgia, with one flying leap, sprang clear off the beetling rock, and alighted, cat-like, on her feet by his side. The lad lay perfectly still, and Georgia, terrified beyond measure, bent over and tried to raise him, and not succeeding in this, suddenly bethought herself of Miss Jerusha's infallible plan for all distresses, mental and bodily, and, catching him by the shoulder, gave him a sound shaking.
This vigorous proceeding had the effect of completely restoring Master Charley, who had been for the moment stunned by the force of the fall, and, opening his eyes, he slowly raised himself and looked with a slightly bewildered glance around.
"Well, I knew you couldn't do it," cried Georgia, who, now observing that he was not killed, recovered all her aggravating love of teasing.
"Ugh! you tantalizing little pepper-pod! that's the sort of remorse you feel after nearly depriving the world of one of its brightest ornaments. 'Pon my word, I never was so nearly extinguished in all my life. Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Miss Georgia, now that you've been and gone and done and made me put my foot in it so beautifully? And speaking of feet reminds me that I have given my ankle a twist, and must see whether it is to be relied upon or not for the journey home, two miles being no joke, even at the best times."
So saying, Mr. Wildair got on his feet and attempted to walk, an experiment which resulted in his making a very wry face—and uttering something like a subdued howl, and finally sinking back in his former position.
"Well, here's a precious go, and no mistake!" was the exclamation jerked out of him by the exigency of the case; "here's my ankle has thought proper to go and sprain itself, and now I'll leave it to society in general if I'm not in just the tallest sort of a fix. Yes, you may stare and look blank, Miss Georgia, but I'll repeat it, you've used me shamefully, Miss Georgia, yes, abominably, Miss Georgia, and if you keep on like this, you stand a fair chance of sharing my own elevated destiny. You perceive I'm a fixture here, and may as well take up my quarters where I am for life, for out of this I can't go."
"Whatever will you do?" exclaimed Georgia, in dismay.
"Why,