_"The Money We Earnt for You"_
Life went on uneventfully save for the dire doings of "Them Three."
Knowing that they were to be sent to school, they were having their
last fling at life untrammeled. September came, and Rob set the day
for his departure, as he was going home to arrange his affairs, so he
and Beth could leave for an extended honeymoon trip. I planned to go
with Rob and install the Polydore three in their distant school. They
were so despondent at leaving, as the time drew near, that a feeling
of gloom hung over the household, all the members of which, even to
Huldah, urged me to relent. But I remained adamant until the evening
before the day set for the dissolution of the Polydore family, when
something happened that changed all our plans.
We were assembled in the library in a state of forced cheerfulness
when the doorbell rang. I answered it, and receipted for a telegram
which I opened and read in the hall. It was from Chester K. Winslow.
"Silvia," I said gravely, as I returned to the library, "your Uncle
Issachar is dead. Died in South America. Heart disease. Very sudden."
Conflicting emotions were depicted in Silvia's expression.
The thought uppermost in all our minds was expressed simultaneously by
"Them Three."
"Gee! Then you can keep the money we earnt for you."
"You know," interpolated Rob in soft-pedaled tone, "they are going to
train school children toward the military--teach the young ideas how
to shoot, as it were. It won't be long before they are ordered to
Mexico to protect us."
"If Them Three ever meets that there Viller man," commented Huldah
confidently, "the fur will fly some."
"Lucien," said Silvia thoughtfully, "we are under obligations to these
children, you see, after all."
"Yes," I acknowledged with a sigh, "seeing they are now ours, bought
and paid for, I suppose we'll have to treat them as such."
"You wouldn't send your own kids away to school," said Pythagoras
significantly.
"No," I reluctantly allowed, answering the protest of Pythagoras, "and
we won't send you. You will all go to the public school tomorrow."
The deafening Polydore powwow that followed made me hope that Uncle
Issachar had met with his just deserts.
"By the author of Mildew Manse."
AMARILLY OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY
By BELLE K. MANIATES
Illustrated. 12mo. $1.00 net.
A book for the many who are weary of problem novels. How prosperity came
to the Jenkins family, how Amarilly got an education, how the Boarder
married Lily Rose and built the Annex, and the adventures of the rector's
surplice, are told in a wholesome little story, between whose covers await
many laughs, and a tear or two as well.
Amarilly is blessed with a large family and amiable neighbors, and their
doings are amusing, but her fancies and devices are captivating.... The
little heroine is all right.--_New York Sun._
The sort of story which pulls at the heartstrings of all readers who like
a real and genuine character.... No one can afford to miss the sweet humor
and helpful cheeriness which the author serves in generous
measure.--_Boston Globe_.
"Amarilly of Clothes-Line Alley" is a dear companion for vacation days
and comes deservedly under the books of real amusement.... Dear Amarilly!
she brightens every hour spent with her.--_Buffalo News_.
LITTLE, BROWN & CO., Publishers
34 Beacon Street, Boston
End of Project Gutenberg's Our Next-Door Neighbors, by Belle Kanaris Maniates