THE BLAZE OF GLORY
“There are two ways of doing it!” said Mrs. Damian. “There is the dark
lantern, hole-and-corner way, and there is the Blaze of Glory.”
Miss Folly looked up inquiringly. She seldom spoke when a look sufficed.
“We can pack the child up at the Pension,” Mrs. Damian continued,
“sneak off in a cab to the station, leaving a trail of tears and sniffs
behind us, and depart as if we were all going to the penitentiary
together; or we can give her a Party and a Send-off, and go--as I
said--in a Blaze of Glory. What do you say?”
“If I were the child, I should prefer the dark lantern,” said Miss
Folly thoughtfully.
“Of course you would!” Mrs. Damian swooped like a hawk. “You have not
red hair; and you are a mouse. A trained and intelligent mouse--_no!_ I
have it! You are a mongoose, Folly. Exactly! There is _no_ difference.
‘The Wild Ass and the Mongoose, an Indian Fable.’ What is the plural of
mongoose?”
“Mongooses!” replied Miss Folly promptly.
“Right! My former Affliction--I should say companion--would persist
in saying ‘mongeese.’ I corrected her seventeen times; the eighteenth
time I threw a sofa-pillow at her, and she left. Egypt was glad at her
departing. As I was saying, Mongoose, you have not red hair, nor the
dramatic temperament. This child has both. Therefore I decide on the
Blaze of Glory. Bring pencil and paper, and we will make a list of the
fireworks.”
* * * * *
So it came to pass that the day after the final examinations, when
the girls were packing their trunks and exchanging last tokens and
protestations of affection, they were told that they were all invited
to the Hotel Royal, to spend the evening with Mrs. Damian.
“And with Honor, naturally!” said Soeur Séraphine. “Our Moriole has
already gone to join her venerable relative. Mrs. Damian most kindly
sends carriages for us at a quarter before seven o’clock precisely; be
ready, my children!”
Honor had gone an hour before, after a talk with Madame Madeleine which
she was to remember as long as she lived. The dear lady might have been
parting with her own child, so tender was she, so full of affectionate
solicitude. She repeated again and again her injunctions; to be good,
to be happy; to think sometimes of the friends who loved her.
“Happy?” said poor Honor. “I will try to be good, dear Madame; I will
be cheerful, because I have promised; but--happy? I shall never be
happy again; never, never, never!”
[Illustration: “‘OH!’ CRIED HONOR. ‘OH, HOW LOVELY!’”]
She burst into wild weeping. Madame Madeleine watched her for a
little in silence, letting the tears take their way. Then she rose, and
opening a drawer of her little escritoire--they were sitting in her own
room, to which we were admitted only on special occasions--took out a
small object.
“Dry thy tears, my child!” she said, in her grave, kind voice. “I have
something to show thee!”
It was a miniature-case that she held in her hand. She opened it, and
Honor, wiping her swollen eyes, bent to look. A girl smiled at her; a
girl older than herself, yet still in the freshness of youth: joyous,
frank, beautiful as a flower, the eyes alight with happiness, the
perfect mouth trembling to a smile.
“Oh!” cried Honor. “Oh, how lovely! how exquisite! Who is it, Madame?”
“It is my sister!” said Madame gravely. “It is Soeur Séraphine, whom
you see every day and all day long, Honor.”
Honor looked again.
“I see it is!” Her voice was full of awe. “Of course it is! But--oh,
Madame! What--what happened to our Sister?”
Madame Madeleine paused, as if communing with herself.
“Why not?” she said finally. “It may help! Listen, Honor! This was my
sister Marie Séraphine at eighteen; that is, so much of her as could be
caught and fixed in color. Of herself, the spirit of gayety and mirth
that she was, it gives but the shadow. She was betrothed, to a man whom
she tenderly loved; a man of whom one can but say that he seemed sent
to earth to show what man could be. They were happy; they were to be
married, from this very house, where then my beloved husband was still
with me. A week before the wedding day--”
The kind voice faltered a moment; then went quietly on,
“The two young people were in Paris, visiting friends. A great Bazaar
was being held for charity, in a certain chapel. They--they went--”
the voice broke.
“Oh, madame! I know! I have heard--That terrible fire! So many lives
lost--Oh! they were not there?”
Madame bowed her head.
“When the flames broke out, they were near a window. By God’s mercy,
he--René--was able to break the window, and thrust my sister out into
the street. Another woman, and yet another, he rescued; then--the crowd
found him; they clung to him, they dragged him--he fell back--”
Honor covered her face with her hands, shuddering.
Madame Madeleine was silent for a few moments; then she went on.
“It is not to agonize thee, my child, that I tell this sad tale.
Listen still! At first, my sister prayed for death, as one prays for
the morning. God did not send her that relief. Then she sought the
religious life, and found therein a measure of peace. Time and work
and prayer scarfed over the wound that never could wholly heal. For
some years she continued in this, till the convent was broken up; then
she came to me.
“That is the story, my Moriole, of my sister’s life. I do not often
speak of it. I tell it to thee, that thou may’st know what real sorrow
is, and how it may be borne. Take this knowledge with thee, my child,
and may it prove profitable to thee!”
She kissed Honor’s forehead gravely, then made a little gesture of
dismissal, and turned to replace the miniature.
Creeping away with bowed head and beating heart, Honor met Soeur
Séraphine coming along the corridor with her light, swift tread. At
sight of her, the Sister’s face, tranquil and beautiful, broke into its
lovely smile, and Honor started, it was so like the pictured face that
had smiled at her a moment; so like, yet--ah, how different!
“_Tiens!_” said Soeur Séraphine. “My little Moriole, I was seeking
thee. The hour approaches, and thy toilette is not yet made. Thou hast
been weeping, my child. I could well weep too, at losing thee, but
the smile is the better fashion, see’st thou! As Monsieur thy father
observed, ‘Bokope,’ my Moriole! Come then, and I will tie thy ribbon
for thee!”
* * * * *
“First,” said Mrs. Damian, “we will inspect the tokens.”
“The tokens?” repeated Honor, slightly bewildered; Mrs. Damian was in
one of her most swooping moods, and had already taken her breath away
twice.
“Of affection!” replied the lady. “Tokens of affection; souvenirs;
gimcracks; anything you choose to call them. This way, my dear!”
She led the way into a little boudoir, which seemed to be furnished
largely with tissue paper and parcels, and motioned Honor toward a
table on which lay a number of small objects. Honor bent over them in
wonder and delight. Nine heart-shaped lockets of rock-crystal, each
containing a tiny likeness of herself. Beside them, a larger print of
her in a silver frame.
“Oh! how lovely!” cried Honor, clasping her hands. “How _perfectly_
lovely! Are they--do they--”
“They are for your schoolmates, naturally. You said there were nine of
them? ‘Nine homesick puppies, in nine vehicles, straying sadly down the
road to Peking.’[2] Quotation; contains a buried city. H’m! Well! Yes.
The large one is for the two good ladies, who do not wear gimcracks.
Well? Are you pleased?”
[2] Mrs. Hugh Fraser.
“But I am enchanted! They are exquisite. And all the girls have been
begging me for my picture. But when were they taken, my aunt?”
“Folly snapped her kodak at you, the day of the race, and had the print
enlarged. I found the lockets at Interlaken. Now you know as much as I
do. Glad you like them!”
“And--oh! and my hair looks dark!” cried Honor. “It really does!”
“Yes, that is the only trouble with the likeness. Red hair should be
powdered before photographing, or it looks perfectly black.”
“Oh, if it only were!” cried poor Honor. “I have always longed so for
dark hair, madame. In America--would it be wicked if I blacked it, my
aunt? It is wicked in Switzerland, our Sister says.”
“It would be idiotic,” said Mrs. Damian, “which is more to the point.
Don’t be an idiot, child, whatever else you are. Look! Here is your
dressing-case. Like it?”
But here Honor became speechless. Darkest green morocco, lined with
satin, fitted with brushes, combs, and innumerable bottles, all in
warm-white ivory, all marked--H.B. What could fourteen-year-old Honor
say at sight of this marvel? She could only gasp, and clasp her hands
together. It was some minutes before she managed to stammer out,
“I am combled! I am altogether combled, madame! What generosity, what
goodness!”
“You like it?” repeated Mrs. Damian, watching her with evident pleasure.
“I have dreamed of such a thing!” said Honor. “I never thought to see
one. Can it possibly be actually mine, madame?”
“It not only can, but is. Nobody else would want it, you see, with your
initials on it.”
“I thank you! Oh, I thank you a hundred thousand times, for the
beautiful, beautiful things, but, ah, how much more for your kindness!
It enlarges me the heart! I--I--” Honor faltered.
“_Don’t cry!_ If you cry, I’ll break all the bottles. Here! take
these chains and put the lockets on them!” Mrs. Damian held out a box
containing a number of slender gold chains. “When the girls come, you
may put them round their necks and make a pretty speech to each one. I
have no time for pretty speeches. H’m! Folly, how about the emeralds?
Pretty, with the white frock and the hair, eh?”
“Pretty, but very unsuitable!” said Miss Folly briefly.
“True! though I don’t know what business it is of yours. No ornaments
at all, eh? Much better so! Put the diamond stars in my cap, will you?
_Some one_ must dress up a little; if you say much more, Mongoose, I’ll
make you wear the emeralds yourself, and a pretty sight you’d be!”
Honor privately thought that Miss Folly needed nothing more to make her
a pretty sight. In her simple dark blue dress, with the fichu of soft
net and the old-fashioned topaz brooch, she was pretty enough, in all
conscience. She seemed never in the least discomposed by Mrs. Damian’s
abrupt speeches. She smiled now and went away, presumably to arrange
the diamonds.
“H’m!” said Mrs. Damian. “Sit down, my dear. Don’t fidget! Your friends
will be here soon. The last party I gave--let me see! Was it in Russia?
After the last one I gave there, I remember, the servants ate up all
the candles. But--no! the very last one was in Africa, in the Great
Desert. My dear! would you like to hear about it? Fold your hands in
your lap--lightly! Don’t clasp them. I am not Grand Opera. And don’t
turn in your toes! So! We were quite a caravan, and there had been
a sandstorm which came very near being the final party for all of
us--h’m! yes! Well--so when we got to the nearest oasis and found we
were all alive, it seemed proper to celebrate. You see?”
Mrs. Damian swooped; Honor blinked and caught her breath, then nodded
eagerly.
“I see, my aunt! Continue, I pray you!”
“We ranged the camels and horses in a circle; after watering them,
naturally. The mats were spread, and the Mohammedans said their
prayers: well, I said mine too, only without demonstration. I am too
old to show you how a Moslem prays; he kneels, tumbles forward on his
forehead, then back on his heels. Very singular! I’d make Folly do it
for you, but she has scruples.” This, as Miss Folly entered with the
cap. “Thanks, Folly! Put it on for me, will you? Straight, please!
None of your piratical rakishness! I believe you are a Buccaneer in
disguise! Well, we supped on fresh dates, locusts and wild honey--I
felt like John the Baptist--I had a garment of camel’s hair, too,
though probably different from his-- What is it, my dear? Keep your
eyes in your head; they look better there.”
“Pardon me, my aunt! But--locusts? Really?”
“Really! fried in olive oil; crisp, and not at all bad. The Sheik could
not eat with us, we being Infidels, but he sent us coffee, and was
very friendly. Indeed, he offered to buy me. I was too old for a wife,
he said, but he liked my talk, and thought I would do for a mother. I
never was so flattered in my life; but my Professor decided to keep
me. We had water that night to wash in; a small pitcherful, but still
water, a great luxury. For a week we had washed in sand. But yes,
certainly!” at Honor’s exclamation of amazement. “It is often so in the
desert, where there isn’t water enough to drink. Sand is efficacious,
but gritty. Ah! here come our friends.”
The girls entered on the stroke of seven, blushing and twittering,
shepherded by Soeur Séraphine in her gray dress and spotless coif.
“She looks like a Princess of the Blood!” murmured Mrs. Damian. “Learn
to hold yourself like that, Honor, and your hair may be red or green or
piebald, it will not matter. Good evening, my Sister! I am delighted
to see you. Young ladies, you are very welcome.”
Mrs. Damian’s French was that of one who to a natural gift has added
fifty years of practice; nevertheless, she spoke English now, having
divined with her lightning instinct that the Sister’s one little
heavenly vanity was her English.
“Ze plaisir--pardon!--ze plaisure is teetotally to oz, madame! Be’old
oz gazzered as von ’eart, von speerit, von sentiment, to greet you
and our beloved young friend. Honor, all to thee, my little one! My
children, _English_!”
The last words were a swift aside to the girls, and brought comfort or
disaster, according to one’s nationality. All very well for Patricia
and Maria, though the latter could only mumble, not having the gift
of tongues, scarcely even of her own. Vivette enunciated neatly her
“Good evening, Mrs. and Miss. ’Ow do you carry yourself?” and passed
on, swelling visibly with modest pride. Rose Marie and most of the
others escaped with a polite murmur which might have been English or
Choctaw. But poor Stephanie! she had hoped to escape speech altogether
by keeping well behind the Sister’s ample robes. English was to her an
“apoplexy of a language,” and she rather made a point of not knowing
any. But now little Loulou, who had spoken very nicely, and who had her
own idea of what was proper, gave a shrewd pinch to Stephanie’s arm, at
the very instant when Soeur Séraphine, extending a firm hand, drew her
inexorably forward into full view.
“Aie! goodnight!” shrieked Stephanie, bobbing a distracted courtesy.
The girls tittered; Soeur Séraphine flushed. Mrs. Damian’s lips
twitched for a moment, but she rose to the occasion.
“I am glad to see you, my dear!” she said cordially. “You are Stephanie
Langolles, I think? You are to sit next Honor at supper. And there is
the bell this minute!” she added. “Let us come in without ceremony;
Honor, lead the way with the Sister, will you?”
Honor would never acknowledge that the Feast of Departure surpassed
the _Fête de Retour_ at the Pension, but Soeur Séraphine declared she
had never seen anything so charming. Mrs. Damian nodded, well pleased.
It was a feast of birds, she explained; of orioles, as nearly as Miss
Folly could make it with crêpe paper and black pins. Beside each plate
stood a little black and orange bird, holding a card in his bill.
The soup was in swan-shaped cups, the long necks curving to form the
handles.
“It should be birds’ nest soup, of course,” said the hostess, “but
there were no nests in the market.”
The potato balls that accompanied the roast duck were bird-shaped,
too, golden-brown ducklings, with peppercorn eyes. And when it came
to the dessert--oh! oh! could it be possible? Who ever saw a mother
hen of strawberry ice-cream, with pink and white chickens clustering
round her? Long before this point was reached, the girls’ tongues were
loosened, and they were chattering like a flock of sparrows.
When it came to “second helps,” Mrs. Damian nodded to Honor, who
slipped quietly out and returned, bringing the “tokens.” She went round
the table, with a kiss and a murmured word for each girl as she clasped
the chain round her neck. Her eyes were bright with tears, but she
would not let them fall. Mrs. Damian watched her keenly, and nodded to
herself well pleased. The child was thoroughbred; no danger of a scene!
As the girls burst into exclamations of wonder and delight, Honor
slipped out again, in obedience to a signal from Miss Folly, who
without a word led her into the tissue-paper room. On the bed lay
a traveling costume of russet wool, tasteful and simple; beside it
the prettiest of hats to match. Gloves, belt, shoes of russet suède;
nothing was wanting.
“Dress yourself quickly,” said Miss Folly. “I must go and help Mrs.
Damian. _Don’t stop to think!_ Time for that afterwards. You have
twenty minutes!”
She vanished. Honor never could remember how she got through those
twenty minutes. She only knew that before they were over, she was
ready, and stood trembling in every limb, unable, it seemed to her, to
speak or move. The door opened; there stood Mrs. Damian, Miss Folly
behind her, both dressed for traveling.
“Good!” said Mrs. Damian. “You will make a traveler! Come!”
She took Honor’s hand in her firm, cool grasp, and led her back to the
dining room. The girls were deep in the mysteries of costume crackers,
putting on paper caps and bonnets, shrieking with laughter. At sight of
the three, they sprang up in amazement.
“Oh!” cried Stephanie. “Oh, Moriole! No! no! It cannot be. You do not
leave us!”
“Hush!” Mrs. Damian’s tone was kindly, but final. “No tears or
tantrums! Nothing of the sort. The Sister will explain all. Kiss her,
and say good-by!”
All their mirth gone in a moment, the girls flocked round Honor, with
tears, embraces, broken words of affection.
“Don’t forget me, little thing!” whispered Patricia. “You’ve done a lot
for me, though you don’t know it. _Au revoir_ in New York some day!”
“Moriole,” cried Stephanie, “my heart breaks! I perish!”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Damian.
“Compose thyself, my child!” said Soeur Séraphine. “This is the
inevitable, to which we must bow. Adieu, Honor! The good God be with
thee, little beloved one!”
“Adieu! Adieu, Moriole! Do not forget us! Come back to us!”
They were all at the door now, clustering like bees, waving hands
and handkerchiefs. Looking back for the last time, Honor saw Soeur
Séraphine’s face, with its heavenly smile of patience and kindness. She
smiled back bravely; the carriage started, rolled swiftly on.
What followed was all like a dream. The station agleam with lights;
the train standing panting in slow, regular breaths, ready for the
start; the guard’s cry, “In the carriage, gentlemen and ladies, if you
please!”; the smiling porter who took possession of them and their
belongings, even the precious dressing-bag, to which Honor would
fain have clung. Here it was, though, a moment later, in this little
fairy-like cabin with its two white berths, one above the other.
“Folly prefers the upper berth,” said Mrs. Damian. “I can’t imagine
why, unless from mongoosiness. Good night, child! Sleep well!
Remember, the train will say _anything you want it to say_. Try ‘good
luck’!”
What _was_ the train saying? Lying in the white berth, her brain still
throbbing, her heart still beating fast, Honor tried to listen, tried
to fit words to the rhythmic sound.
“Good luck! good luck!” That did not quite fit. “Clank-clank--good
luck! clank--clank--buck up!”
Good-by, ah, good-by!
“On the Alp the grass is sweetest,
Li-u-o, my Queen!”
That went better, but still--
The locomotive found its stride; the train settled into a smooth
rhythmic movement, which steadily, insensibly, straightened out the
twisted nerves, quieted the throbbing brain, soothed, lulled, comforted.
“Tumpty tum, tumpty tum,
Tumpty, tumpty, tumpty tum!”
And as sleep came softly stealing, drawing her veil of quietness over
the tired child, she murmured, half awake, half in slumber, the old,
old words:
“Four corners to my bed,
Four angels round my head,
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on!”
THE END
Selections from The Page Company’s Books for Young People
THE BLUE BONNET SERIES
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
A TEXAS BLUE BONNET
By CAROLINE E. JACOBS.
“The book’s heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of
wholesome, honest, lively girlishness.”--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
BLUE BONNET’S RANCH PARTY
By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.
“A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter.”--_Boston
Transcript._
BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON
By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
“It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its
many human touches.”--_Boston Globe._
BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE
By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
“It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens.”--_New
York Sun._
BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE
By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet.
BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS
By LELA HORN RICHARDS.
“The author’s intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader
an interesting story of the heroine’s war activities.”--_Pittsburgh
Leader._
THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES
By HARRISON ADAMS
_Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS.
“Such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among the
young Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer
ancestors and the early days of the Republic.”--_Boston Globe._
THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE
IROQUOIS.
“The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only
interesting but instructive as well and shows the sterling
type of character which these days of self-reliance and trial
produced.”--_American Tourist, Chicago._
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE
WILDERNESS.
“The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure.”--_New York
Sun._
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX.
“Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations,
true to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for
boys.”--_Watchman Examiner, New York City._
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE; OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS.
“There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well
told.”--_Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn._
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE
GREAT NORTHWEST.
“The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable
historical information.”--_Boston Herald._
THE HADLEY HALL SERIES
By LOUISE M. BREITENBACH
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
ALMA AT HADLEY HALL
“The author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing
book for girls.”--_Detroit Free Press._
ALMA’S SOPHOMORE YEAR
“It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls’
books.”--_Boston Herald._
ALMA’S JUNIOR YEAR
“The diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn,
the incidents are well developed and the action is never dull.”--_The
Boston Herald._
ALMA’S SENIOR YEAR
“A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter.”--_Boston
Transcript._
THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES
By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE
“A book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems to
understand perfectly the girl character.”--_Boston Globe._
PEGGY RAYMOND’S VACATION
“It is a wholesome, hearty story.”--_Utica Observer._
PEGGY RAYMOND’S SCHOOL DAYS
The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting
incidents.
THE FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE
These four lively girls found their opportunities to serve their
country. The story of their adventures will bring anew to every girl
who reads about them the realisation of what she owes to her country.
FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES
By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $2.00
FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS
“More of such books should be written, books that acquaint
young readers with historical personages in a pleasant,
informal way.”--_New York Sun._
FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS
“Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation
of battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the
whites for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United
States History.”--_New York Marine Journal._
FAMOUS SCOUTS
“It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys
and young men.”--_New London Day._
FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA
“The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing,
stirring the blood with thrilling force.”--_Pittsburgh Post._
FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER
“The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable,
making a book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual
adventure.”--_Cleveland Leader._
FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA
“The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and bravest adventures
of which the world has known.”--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle._
FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR Who Led the United States and Her
Allies to a Glorious Victory.
“The pages of this book have the charm of romance without its
unreality. The book illuminates, with life-like portraits, the history
of the World War.”--_Rochester Post Express._
HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES
By LAURA E. RICHARDS
Eleven Volumes
The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with “Queen Hildegarde” and
ending with “The Merryweathers,” make one of the best and most popular
series of books for girls ever written.
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
_The eleven volumes boxed as a set_ $18.15
LIST OF TITLES
QUEEN HILDEGARDE
HILDEGARDE’S HOLIDAY
HILDEGARDE’S HOME
HILDEGARDE’S NEIGHBORS
HILDEGARDE’S HARVEST
THREE MARGARETS
MARGARET MONTFORT
PEGGY
RITA
FERNLEY HOUSE
THE MERRYWEATHERS
THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES
By LAURA E. RICHARDS
_Each one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_
75 cents
CAPTAIN JANUARY
A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been
very remarkable.
SAME. _Illustrated Holiday Edition_ $1.35
MELODY: THE STORY OF A CHILD.
MARIE
A companion to “Melody” and “Captain January.”
ROSIN THE BEAU
A sequel to “Melody” and “Marie.”
SNOW-WHITE; OR, THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.
JIM OF HELLAS; OR, IN DURANCE VILE, and a companion story,
BETHESDA POOL.
NARCISSA
And a companion story, IN VERONA, being two delightful short stories
of New England life.
“SOME SAY”
And a companion story, NEIGHBORS IN CYRUS.
NAUTILUS
“‘Nautilus’ is by far the best product of the author’s powers, and is
certain to achieve the wide success it so richly merits.”
ISLA HERON
This interesting story is written in the author’s usual charming
manner.
THE LITTLE MASTER
“A well told, interesting tale of a high character.”--_California
Gateway Gazette._
DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLE FOLKS
By LAURA E. RICHARDS
THREE MINUTE STORIES
Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color and many text
illustrations $1.50
“Little ones will understand and delight in the stories and
poems.”--_Indianapolis News._
FIVE MINUTE STORIES
Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.50
A charming collection of short stories and clever poems for children.
MORE FIVE MINUTE STORIES
Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.50
A noteworthy collection of short stories and poems for children, which
will prove as popular with mothers as with boys and girls.
FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP
Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.50
The story of their lives and other wonderful things related by the Man
in the Moon, done in the vernacular from the lunacular form by Laura
E. Richards.
A NEW BOOK FOR GIRLS
By LAURA E. RICHARDS
HONOR BRIGHT
Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75
No girl ever deserved more to have a series of stories written
about her than does HONOR BRIGHT, the newest heroine of a
talented author who has created many charming girls. Born of
American parents who die in the far East, Honor spends her school
days at the Pension Madeline in Vevey, Switzerland, surrounded
by playmates of half a dozen nationalities. As are all of Mrs.
Richards’ heroines, HONOR BRIGHT is the highest type of the young
girl of America, with all the independence of character which is
American to the core in young as in old.
THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES
By BURTON E. STEVENSON
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLEN WEST.
“The whole range of section railroading is covered in the
story.”--_Chicago Post._
THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER
“A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of
railroad life.”--_Congregationalist._
THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER
“It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a
good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn.”--_Passaic News._
THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, ALLAN WEST’S CHUM.
“The story is intensely interesting.”--_Baltimore Sun._
BOY SCOUT STORIES
By BREWER CORCORAN
_Published with the approval of “The Boy Scouts of America.”_
_Each, one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per
volume_ $1.65
THE BOY SCOUTS OF KENDALLVILLE
The story of a bright young factory worker who cannot enlist
because he has three dependents, but his knowledge of woodcraft
and wig-wagging, gained through Scout practice, enables him to
foil a German plot to blow up the munitions factory.
THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE WOLF PATROL
The boys of Gillfield who were not old enough to go to war found
just as many thrills at home, chasing a German spy.
THE CARITA SERIES
By LUCY M. BLANCHARD
_Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated_ $1.65
CARITA, AND HOW SHE BECAME A PATRIOTIC AMERICAN
“One of the strongest points of the book is the fact that its
characters seem to be real people, doing the things that real
people do. More than that, they are wholesome, worth-while
folks whose companionship inspires a sane and pleasing view of
life.”--_Salt Lake Tribune, Salt Lake City._
CARITA’S NEW WORLD
“Wholesome and altogether fascinating; all this can be truly
said of all of Miss Blanchard’s stories for girls. ‘Carita’s New
World’ has both of these characteristics.”--_Troy Record, Troy,
N. Y._
“There is a fine originality about Carita that will make her
adorable to all girls.”--_Oakland Tribune._
THE MERRYMAKERS SERIES
By HERSCHEL WILLIAMS
_Each, one volume, 12mo, illustrated_ $1.65
THE MERRYMAKERS IN NEW YORK
“The book is bright and clever and gives an excellent picture
of our great metropolis. One can in his imagination see
New York most entertainingly through the eyes of the young
Merrymakers.”--_St. Andrew’s Cross, Philadelphia._
THE MERRYMAKERS IN CHICAGO
The Merrymakers who had such a splendid Christmas vacation in
New York, enjoy another rollicking good time,--a summer vacation
in Chicago. While brother Ned, the young newspaper reporter,
“covers” the Republican national convention in Chicago, Carl, the
oldest of the four sightseeing Merrymakers, decides that he wants
to own a department store some day, and incidentally learns all
the steps he must take from being an errand boy to a merchant
magnate.
IDEAL BOOKS FOR GIRLS
_Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo_ $1.00
A LITTLE CANDY BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By AMY L. WATERMAN.
“This is a peculiarly interesting little book, written in
the simple, vivacious style that makes these little manuals
as delightful to read as they are instructive.”--_Nashville
Tennessean and American._
A LITTLE COOK-BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON.
This book explains how to cook so simply that no one can fail to
understand every word, even a complete novice.
A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON.
A little girl, home from school on Saturday mornings, finds out
how to make helpful use of her spare time, and also how to take
proper pride and pleasure in good housework.
A LITTLE SEWING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By LOUISE FRANCES CORNELL.
“It is comprehensive and practical, and yet revealingly
instructive. It takes a little girl who lives alone with
her mother, and shows how her mother taught her the art
of sewing in its various branches. The illustrations aid
materially.”--_Wilmington Every Evening._
A LITTLE PRESERVING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By AMY L. WATERMAN.
In simple, clear wording, Mrs. Waterman explains every step of
the process of preserving or “canning” fruits and vegetables.
A LITTLE GARDENING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By PETER MARTIN.
This little volume is an excellent guide for the young gardener.
In addition to truck gardening, the book gives valuable
information on flowers, the planning of the garden, selection of
varieties, etc.
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
(Trade Mark)
By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_ $1.75
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES (Trade Mark)
Being three “Little Colonel” stories in the Cosy Corner Series, “The
little Colonel,” “Two Little Knights of Kentucky,” and “The Giant
Scissors,” in a single volume.
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOUSE PARTY
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOLIDAYS
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HERO
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING-SCHOOL
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHRISTMAS VACATION
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S KNIGHT COMES RIDING
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHUM, MARY WARE
(Trade Mark)
MARY WARE IN TEXAS
MARY WARE’S PROMISED LAND
_These twelve volumes, boxed as a set_, $18.00.
SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS
_Each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume_ $1.50
New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in
color, and many marginal sketches.
THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark)
TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY
THE GIANT SCISSORS
BIG BROTHER
THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES
_Each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece and decorative
text borders, per volume_ $0.75
IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.
THE THREE WEAVERS: A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL
AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS.
KEEPING TRYST: A TALE OF KING ARTHUR’S TIME.
THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG.
THE JESTER’S SWORD
THE LITTLE COLONEL’S GOOD TIMES BOOK
Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $1.75
Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold $5.00
Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.
“A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good
times she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were
of Annie Fellows Johnston.”--_Buffalo Express._
THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK--First Series
Quarto, boards, printed in colors $1.75
A series of “Little Colonel” dolls. Each has several changes of
costume, so they can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any
scene or incident in the series.
THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK--Second Series
Quarto, boards, printed in colors $1.75
An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only lovable Mary
Ware, the Little Colonel’s chum, but many another of the much loved
characters which appear in the last three volumes of the famous
“Little Colonel Series.”
THE STORY OF THE RED CROSS: as Told to the Little Colonel
Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.00
This story originally appeared in “The Little Colonel’s Hero,” but the
publishers decided to issue it as a separate volume.
“No one could tell the story of the Red Cross with more vividness and
enthusiasm than this author, and here she is at her best. No book
published during the Great War is more valuable and timely than this
appealing story of the beginning of the Red Cross.”--_New York
Tribune._
“It deserves a place in every school as well as in every home where
the work of the Red Cross is appreciated.”--_Evening Express,
Portland, Me._
“Not only VERY interesting, but has large educational
value.”--_Lookout, Cincinnati, Ohio._
JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.75
“The book is a very clever handling of the greatest event in the
history of the world.”--_Rochester, N. Y., Herald._
THE SANDMAN SERIES
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65
By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS
THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES.
“Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the little
ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this book
a treasure.”--_Cleveland Leader._
THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES.
“Children will call for these stories over and over
again.”--_Chicago Evening Post._
THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES.
“Little ones will understand and delight in the stories and their
parents will read between the lines and recognise the poetic and
artistic work of the author.”--_Indianapolis News._
THE SANDMAN: HIS SEA STORIES.
“Once upon a time there was a man who knew little children
and the kind of stories they liked, so he wrote four books
of Sandman’s stories, all about the farm or the sea, and the
brig _Industry_, and this book is one of them.”--_Canadian
Congregationalist._
By JENNY WALLIS
THE SANDMAN: HIS SONGS AND RHYMES.
“Here is a fine collection of poems for mothers and friends to
use at the twilight hour. They are not of the soporific kind
especially. They are wholesome reading when most wide-awake and
of such a soothing and delicious flavor that they are welcome
when the lights are low.”--_Christian Intelligence._
Transcriber’s Note:
Punctuation has been standardised. Spelling, hyphenation, accents, and,
on page 234, “isnt” for “isn’t” have been retained as in the original
publication.