Georgina's Service Stars

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Johnston Annie Fellows. Georgina's Service Stars

PART I

CHAPTER I. GEORGINA BEGINS HER MEMOIRS

CHAPTER II. THE MISUNDERSTOOD 'TEENS

CHAPTER III. IN THE SHADOW OF WAR

CHAPTER IV. HER IDEAL GIRL STEPS IN

CHAPTER V. A PHOTOGRAPH AND SOME DAY-DREAMS

CHAPTER VI. THE ONE AND ONLY STAR

CHAPTER VII. A MODERN SIR GARETH

CHAPTER VIII. DISILLUSIONED

CHAPTER IX. SEVEN MONTHS LATER

CHAPTER X. AT HARRINGTON HALL

CHAPTER XI. THE MIDSHIPMAN HOP

CHAPTER XII "SHOD GOES SURE"

CHAPTER XIII. A WORK-A-DAY VACATION

PART II

CHAPTER XIV. THE CALL TO ARMS

CHAPTER XV "THE GATES AJAR"

CHAPTER XVI. HOME-COMINGS

CHAPTER XVII. BACK WITH THE OLD CROWD

CHAPTER XVIII. A WAR WEDDING

CHAPTER XIX. THE VIGIL IN THE SWING

CHAPTER XX. THE HIGHWAY OF THE ANGELS

CHAPTER XXI "PIRATE GOLD"

CHAPTER XXII "THE MAID WHO BINDS HER WARRIOR'S SASH"

CHAPTER XXIII. MARKED ON THE CALENDAR

CHAPTER XXIV. BRAVE LITTLE CARRIER PIGEON!

CHAPTER XXV "MISSING"

CHAPTER XXVI "THE SERVICE OF SHINING"

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Up the crooked street which curves for three miles around the harbor comes the sound of the Towncrier's bell. It seems strange that he should happen along this morning, just as I've seated myself by this garret window to begin the story of my life, for it was the sound of his bell five years ago which first put it into my head to write it. And yet, it isn't so strange after all, when one remembers the part the dear old man has had in my past. "Uncle Darcy," as I've always called him, has been mixed up with most of its important happenings.

That day, when I first thought of writing my memoirs, was in Spring house-cleaning time, and I had been up here all morning, watching them drag out old heirlooms from the chests and cubby-holes under the rafters. Each one had a history. From one of the gable windows I could look down on the beach at the very spot where the Pilgrims first landed, and away over on the tongue of sand, which ends the Cape, I could see the place where they say the old Norse Viking, Thorwald, was buried nine hundred years ago.

.....

With such a heritage it is unthinkable that I should settle down to an ordinary career. Something inside of me tells me that I am destined to make my name an honored household word in many climes. I've considered doing this in several ways.

It might be well to mention here that my earliest passion was for the stage. That will explain why quotations came so trippingly from my tongue at times. I learned yards and yards of poems and Shakespeare's plays for declamation, and I'm always given one of the leading parts in the amateur theatricals at the High School or the Town Hall. My looks may have something to do with that, however. As it might seem conceited for me to describe myself as my mirror shows me, I'll just paste some newspaper clippings on this page describing different plays I've been in. Several of them speak of my dark eyes and glowing complexion, also my "wealth of nut-brown curls," and my graceful dancing.

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