“Yes.” Georgie hesitated. “Though I’ve realized we might need a knife. Perhaps we could borrow one from the vicarage kitchen instead of walking all the way back for one.”
“My pointy shoes approve of that plan.”
They retraced their steps and asked Cora if they might borrow a knife.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to get into trouble....” The girl worriedly chewed her lip. “But you’ve been so kind to me. Just one moment.” She darted inside before Georgie could stop her.
“I hope she does not get into any trouble on our account.”
Cora reappeared and handed them a sharp knife. “You will bring it back?”
“Of course we shall. Never fear.”
Promising Cora they’d return as soon as possible, the two continued up Vicarage Road.
“There it is. See?” Georgiana pointed high into a lime tree’s canopy, to a roundish bunch of green visible in the winter-bare tree branches.
He let out a low whistle. “That is higher than I imagined. How will we get it down?”
“I think there are two options. If we had a gun, we might be able to blast it down. Sadly I have no gun.”
“I should hope not!”
“Have you?”
“Jack has a few, but he’d not let me anywhere near them.”
“Wise man.”
“And our other option?”
Georgie waggled her brows, clamped the knife between her teeth, hiked her skirts, and began climbing the tree.
“Georgie, no!” Colin called. “It’s too high! If you break your neck Jack will break mine—if your sisters don’t do so first. I did not mean that you should climb up.”
Reaching aYof the trunk that allowed her to sit, Georgie momentarily removed the knife with one hand, still holding on to a branch with the other. “Well, you were not going to do so. Not in those silly shoes! At least I’m wearing sturdy half boots.”
“And a skirt! Come down, I beg of you.”
“I shall. In just a few minutes more.”
Clamping the knife between her teeth again, Georgiana continued the climb, more for the thrill of the challenge than any fondness for kissing boughs.
Reaching the important branch, Georgie edged her way out on the limb, which swayed beneath her weight.
“That branch is not strong enough. Stop!”
Georgie did not stop. Instead she reached out, grasped a vine-like shoot of the stuff, and yanked it closer to the trunk. Wrapping one arm around the tree for balance, she then began sawing at the mass.
Finally a tangle of mistletoe fell. Then another.
“That’s enough!” he shouted up to her. “We don’t need enough to have the whole town puckering up!”
The branch made an ominous cracking sound beneath her.
“Oh, Lord help us,” he cried.
“I’m all right.” George returned her weight fully to the trunk and then slowly and carefully made her way down, muscles trembling from the effort and the near fall.
