"Georgie"
"But I wish you would, mother," he persisted. "I want to show you something."
"What, Georgie? Is it a present?"
I laughed softly. It might even have been dignified thus, I thought, but little did she guess what shape this new gift of his had taken.
"N-not exactly. At least—" he paused imploringly. "Won't you come and see?"
"Can't you bring it down and show me?"
She lifted a pretty ringed hand and pushed the brown hair from his damp forehead. Georgie flushed and cast a whimsical look at me.
"Well—hardly," he said with an uneasy laugh.
"But why? Can't you carry it?"
I turned away. This was more than I could bear with gravity.
Georgie straightened his shoulders.
"Yes," he said with a reckless laugh, "I think I can carry it. You are sure you would like to see it—here?"
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