GRAY OWL, SANTA CLAUS
“Sing, Christmas bells!
Sing to all men,--the bond, the free,
The rich, the poor, the high, the low,
The little child that sports in glee,
The aged folk that tottering go,--
Proclaim the morn
That Christ is born
That saveth them and saveth me!”
“Blessed are they who still dream and wonder and believe.”
CHRISTMAS! Everything told it. The feeling of it was in the air. The
snow which lay lightly and deeply upon ground and trees, the icicles
which hung in long glittering pendants, the clear, bright blue sky,
the brisk, lively, sunshiny cold,--all told of Christmas. The air was
the Christmas air, stirring the heart-beats. The sounds were Christmas
sounds,--the merry calling out of Christmas greetings, the glad ringing
of the church bells.
The Christmas Makers’ Club was all ready to enjoy Christmas day to
the utmost. Mysterious packages for the Christmas-tree had arrived
at Mrs. Danforth’s house all day Thursday and had been taken charge
of by Cummings, the maid, who seemed suddenly to have forgotten
her stiffness and to have become more like other people. The Club
had held an important business meeting at Miss Ruth Warren’s house
Thursday afternoon and had made everything ready for the visit to the
Convalescent Home on Christmas morning. The twenty-four dolls which the
Club had dressed and the twelve rag dolls of Mrs. Holt’s making--which
even Betty, who had scorned rag dolls, declared were full prettier
than the others--had been carefully placed in a large, flat basket.
The paper dolls and the tin soldiers were in boxes by themselves, and
the twelve tops which Ben had made were also ready to be given to the
Convalescent children.
Elsa Danforth had told the Club that her Uncle Ned was very anxious to
go to the Convalescent Home with them, and it had been decided that
there would be plenty of room for him, also, in Ben’s large double
sleigh, as he could sit on the front seat with Ben and little Alice,
while Miss Ruth, Betty and Elsa occupied the back seat.
Best of all, at this business meeting, the children had delivered to
their Club president, Miss Ruth, the united sum of five dollars and
sixty cents which they had earned, in the past two weeks, to give to
the managers of the Convalescent Home. There was one dollar and forty
cents from Betty White, who had earned five cents a day for emptying
waste paper baskets in her own home and for blacking her father’s
shoes--never were shoes better blacked, Mr. White declared, boastfully;
there were two dollars from Elsa, whose Uncle Ned had paid her just
as he promised he would for writing two letters each week, although
he had been in Berkeley the past week, and who had also paid her a
dollar for copying a long piece of writing for him; there were seventy
cents from little Alice, earned by washing dishes for her mother; and,
lastly, Ben, who had entered heartily in this plan for earning money,
had given a dollar and a half as his share, earned by shovelling snow
and doing errands for the neighbours. After considerable thinking, Ben
had decided to give to his mother the whole amount of the three dollars
and a half which Mr. Danforth had paid him for seven hours’ help; and
on Christmas morning Mrs. Holt had been deeply touched by the gift of
money from her devoted little son.
Betty’s dollar and forty cents, Elsa’s two dollars, Alice’s seventy
cents, and Ben’s dollar and a half, made the good round sum of five
dollars and sixty cents which the Club had earned for the Convalescent
Home; and when the boy of the Club had handed the full amount in silver
to the president, the Club members had felt well repaid for all their
work by seeing her great surprise and delight.
“Nothing which you could have done would have pleased me more than
this, children,” Miss Ruth said warmly. “I know that the money will be
a most welcome gift to the Convalescent Home and be ever so much help.”
“Will the Club have its name printed?” Betty inquired anxiously.
“Yes, I am sure the managers of the Home will want to mention the name
of the Club and the gift in their annual report,” Miss Ruth answered.
“How will it sound, please?” Alice asked.
“Something like this: ‘From the Christmas Makers’ Club of Berkeley,
$5.60; also dolls, tops, and toys.’”
“Perhaps it will interest other children to do things for the little
Convalescings,” Ben suggested.
“We are going to earn some more money for them when we have our Easter
Club,” Elsa said delightedly; “we must truly have that Easter Club!”
“Won’t it be fun to see the little children at the Convalescent Home
to-morrow morning when we give them all the things we have for them?”
Betty cried out, enthusiastically, as the Club ended its important
business meeting on Thursday afternoon, impatient for the next day to
come.
And so on this bright morning of the glad Christmas day, Ben drove
around to Washington Avenue at the appointed hour. He had washed the
sleigh and brushed Jerry until both fairly shone, and had given the old
horse some extra oats. Alice was perched up beside her brother on the
front seat, looking the picture of rosy-cheeked happiness.
First of all, Ben stopped at the Danforth house, to call for Elsa and
her uncle. Meanwhile, Betty, who had been watching for the arrival of
the sleigh, came running out from her own home, with her brown hair and
her blue capes flying, to wish the twins a “Merry Christmas!” first;
so she jumped into the back seat of the sleigh without waiting to be
called for. Mr. Danforth helped Elsa into the back seat, and then
walked the short distance to the Warren house, for Miss Ruth was the
only one now remaining to join the party.
But at Miss Ruth’s house a great disappointment awaited the Club, and
all on account of Miss Virginia Warren.
Miss Virginia’s cold was better, but her nervousness had greatly
increased. She had never in her life had a trained nurse, and much as
she wanted one to take care of her and wait upon her, she felt that
it might prove so exciting as to have a very bad effect upon her,
especially at first. It had been arranged that Bettina March should
arrive at noon on Christmas day; and Ruth Warren would be back from
the Convalescent Home an hour before that time. But Miss Virginia had
decided that she could not possibly stay alone that morning, nor have
anybody except her niece, not even Sarah Judd, stay with her.
From breakfast time on, Miss Virginia grew more and more uneasy. At
last, just before it was time for Ruth to put on her coat and be ready
to start with the Club, Miss Virginia began crying and wringing her
large white hands.
“I am sorry, Ruth, to have you give up going to the Convalescent Home
with the children,” Aunt Virginia said, tearfully, “but I don’t feel
well enough to have you leave me. You know we are all supposed to be
happier by making Christmas happier for somebody else, so I am sure
you will be glad to stay with me.” Miss Virginia looked up at her niece
with a very helpless and resigned expression. Her tears had ceased, but
she kept on wringing her hands in a limp way.
Ruth Warren was keenly disappointed. She knew that her aunt could
stay alone for an hour perfectly well; but she could not go with any
pleasure now, after her aunt had asked her to stay at home.
* * * * *
When the merry sleighful stopped in front of the house, Ruth Warren
herself answered the ring at the front door in order not to delay the
party. Mr. Danforth had told Ben that he would call for Miss Warren and
bring out the basket and boxes, so that Ben might stay in the sleigh
and hold Jerry, who, Ben said, might feel extra lively on Christmas
morning and run away with his precious load!
Accordingly, when Ruth Warren opened the door, there stood before her
Elsa’s tall, broad-shouldered uncle with clear gray eyes, steady in an
open, moustached face, who looked squarely at her while he said with
almost a boy’s earnestness: “Merry Christmas, Miss Warren! Your Club
is at the door. Are you and the Christmas presents ready to start for
the Convalescents’ Home?”
“Here are the basket and boxes, Mr. Danforth,” she said, for she had
them close by the door. Leaving him to bring them, she threw her red
cape over her shoulders and ran down the steps to the curb-stone to
tell the Club that she could not go with them on account of her Aunt
Virginia.
A prolonged wail of grief went up from the Club.
“We can’t go without you!” cried Elsa, her violet-gray eyes filling
with tears.
“Please, _please_ come,” entreated Betty, jumping out of the sleigh. “I
will go and ask your aunt to let you.”
“But it is I who decide it, not my aunt,” Ruth Warren said. “You will
have Mr. Danforth with you, and the head-nurse expects you, and you are
only to stay a short time. You will get along just as well without me.”
“But we want you!” wailed the Club. “It won’t be any fun without you;”
and they would not be consoled.
“Please do come, Black Lace Lady!” urged Ben in his most persuasive
tone, while Alice, leaning far over the edge of the sleigh at the great
risk of falling out, echoed “Please” most pleadingly.
[Illustration: “‘BUT WE WANT YOU!’ WAILED THE CLUB.”]
It was hard indeed to resist their urgent begging, but Miss Ruth said
steadily: “It will soon be over, and after all, children, your having
thought of the presents for the Convalescent children means far more
than the giving of the presents.”
Still the Club refused consolation. “We just won’t go without you,”
said Betty passionately, kicking the snow with the toe of her rubber.
“I will not get back into the sleigh.”
By this time Mr. Danforth, who realized what was going on, had the
basket and boxes packed under the sleigh seats.
“But I want you to go, children,” Ruth Warren was urging.
“The Club must do as its president wishes,” Mr. Danforth said quickly,
now that everything was ready. “All clubs do that,--or at least they
ought to. You must honour your president by carrying out her wishes.”
With this, he settled the question by lifting Betty into the back seat
of the sleigh, jumping in after her, and saying to Ben: “Start along,
sir, or we shall be late to our appointment. Do you think Jerry can
take us out there in fifteen minutes?”
This settled it. Ben said, “G’long, Jerry!” The well-brushed horse
started off briskly, the reluctant children looking backward as long as
they could to see Miss Ruth standing there on the curb-stone.
The thoughts which those disappointed children had, even on Christmas
morning, about Miss Virginia were not very pleasant thoughts. How
much of Miss Virginia’s feelings on that same morning were due to
nervousness, and how much to a desire not to have her beloved niece
drive out again in that old, country-like pung no one yet knows. It is
true, however, that Miss Virginia said when Ruth came back up-stairs:
“I am wholly surprised that such a distinguished-looking gentleman as
Mr. Danforth could be willing to go off in that sleigh and with that
crowd of children.”
* * * * *
Elsa’s Uncle Ned tried his best to cheer the spirits of the Club.
He told funny stories, he praised Ben’s horse, he gave them
mysterious hints of what would take place at the Christmas-tree that
afternoon--although he did not actually tell them a thing--and
finally, by the time they were opposite the Holt’s sunny,
flowery-windowed house, he had succeeded somewhat in making the
children forget their disappointment.
Then it was that Mr. Danforth himself grew suddenly grave and
thoughtful as he asked Ben to stop for a moment while he delivered a
message from Mrs. Danforth to Mrs. Holt.
This did not seem anything very important, and the children waited more
patiently than the horse did, in front of his home.
But the message must have been one which affected Mrs. Holt greatly;
for when Ben and Alice looked, as they always did when they drove away,
to see their mother wave to them from the window, she was not there.
Could they have seen her at that moment, they would have been amazed
to see her leaning against the mantel with her hands over her face,
weeping softly at the message which Mr. Danforth had brought.
They would have been still more amazed could they have been at the
front door of their own home a few moments later, when Mrs. Danforth’s
coupé, drawn by the spirited gray horse, drove up to that door and Mrs.
Danforth herself dismounted.
Most amazed of all would they have been when their mother opened the
door, to hear her exclaim, “Mother!” and throw her arms around Mrs.
Danforth, and to hear the tall, white-faced woman crying, “My daughter,
my daughter!” as the fair-haired younger woman led her into the house
and shut the door.
* * * * *
The rest of the short distance to the Convalescent Home was spent
chiefly in talking about Miss Ruth and the Club’s plans for the future.
“Are we going to have a meeting next week?” Elsa inquired of Betty, who
knew Miss Ruth best.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” was Betty’s discouraging answer. “Mother said
Miss Ruth told her she was going away after New Year’s for a visit,
somewhere.”
Fresh gloom settled over the Club at this. Mr. Danforth was in despair
with having such unhappy children upon his hands. But Ben came to his
rescue, for a gray squirrel whisking along the stone wall suggested
something to Ben’s mind. Turning around, he told Mr. Danforth about
carrying the squirrel to the Club meeting one day. “It didn’t frighten
Miss Ruth a bit,” Ben ended earnestly; “she’s got grit, the way I like
to have a girl.”
From talking about the squirrel Ben went on to tell Mr. Danforth of
the screech-owl family which had lived in the hollow tree near there
last spring. “I think maybe they will come back here again,” he said
hopefully, “and maybe we can see them from the hut.”
“What hut?” asked Mr. Danforth very innocent-like, although he and Ben
had been to the hut together more than once now.
Ben gave a chuckle which he turned into a “G’long, Jerry!” and Elsa
cried, “Why, Uncle Ned, you know all about the hut! I have told you.”
A moment later they passed the hospitable sign:
CONVALESCENT HOME
OF THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL
VISITORS ALWAYS WELCOME
and the sleigh-bells jingled merrily up the avenue to the wide-winged
red brick building.
* * * * *
The kind face of the head-nurse fairly shone with happiness when she
saw the basketful of dolls and all the boxes. “I have just told the
children that you were coming,” she said, “and one little boy is sure
he heard the reindeers driving to the house. I think he is looking
for you to come down the chimney,--though you could never get so many
things as these down even our big chimney, at once! After you have
given them the presents, they are going to sing for you the carol they
have learned for their Christmas-tree, on Holy Innocents’ Day. We will
go right out to the playroom, so as not to keep you or them waiting a
moment.”
The children visitors all knew the way to the playroom now. Ben and
Alice went first, with the big basket of dolls between them, followed
by the head-nurse and Betty, Elsa and her uncle, each carrying a box,
Mr. Danforth’s the largest of all, for Ben had brought out from under
the front seat of the sleigh, a square box which the other members of
the Club had not seen before.
The sunny playroom was decked with Christmas greens, and the little
convalescents had a holiday air, for each girl wore a bright red
ribbon on her hair and each boy either a bright red necktie or a bit
of red ribbon in his buttonhole. There were, just as before, many,
many bandaged limbs and bodies, and many children on crutches or lying
in go-carts; there were the same happy patient expressions on the
children’s faces, only to-day, their faces were lighted up with the
excitement of Christmas and with eager interest in the presents they
were to receive.
The nurses, the Club, and Mr. Danforth, all helped quickly to
distribute the gifts, and it was not long before every little girl in
the room was hugging a new doll and every little boy was admiring a new
top, or a tin soldier large enough to stand alone; and then there was
another present for each one of the children; for out of Mr. Danforth’s
box came dozens of gray squirrel-shaped boxes filled with simple
candy,--until the great playroom looked as if a forestful of tiny, tame
gray squirrels had been let loose there.
It was a wholly new experience to Mr. Ned Danforth to see all these
little patient, crippled human beings. Like many busy men in the world,
he had been in the habit of signing his name to a check and sending it
to this or that hospital or charitable institution which he was asked
to help. But this was the first time in his life that he had ever
stepped inside such a place as the Convalescent Home; and at first it
seemed to him that he could not bear the sight, that almost forty years
old as he was, he would have to run away like a schoolboy, because the
sight of those convalescent children made him feel so sad. But he could
not run away; he was there in charge of the Christmas Makers’ Club.
So all he could do to relieve his feelings was to put his hand into
his pocket where he always kept a great many five-cent and ten-cent
pieces,--being a generous-natured man,--and begin giving these pieces
of money to the children.
So he started to walk very fast through the playroom, dropping into the
hands or the laps of the children five-cent pieces, ten-cent pieces,
pennies, silver quarter-dollars, even half-dollars, here and there,
right and left, as long as they lasted. And the nurses, in great
fear lest the little children put the money into their mouths and
swallow it, followed closely after him, taking the money away from the
surprised children, who were so used to being obedient that they gave
it up without any fuss, and kind-hearted Uncle Ned did not know what
was happening behind him.
Ben and Alice, Betty and Elsa were all too much occupied to notice,
either. Ben was surrounded by a group of his own particular little
friends, the boys whom he took out driving; Alice and Betty were
coaxing shy little girls to talk about their new dolls, and Elsa had
found out the black-eyed child in whose arms she had seen her own old
china doll, Bettina, on her first visit here.
The child’s frame was strapped to a board, just as Elsa had seen
it before; but she called out cheerily: “I am all better! See my
new dolly!” On the floor by her side lay the old doll, so battered
and changed that only one who had loved her as Elsa had would have
recognized her.
Elsa picked up the old doll tenderly, saying to herself: “I will hold
her till the little girl remembers and wants her.” “What is your new
doll’s name?” she asked the child.
“’Tina.”
“What is the old doll’s name?” Elsa held the battered doll out in plain
sight.
“’Tina,” said the little girl, reaching out for the old doll and
blissfully clasping the old and the new together in her arms.
“And what is your own name, dear?” asked Elsa, for the dark-eyed child
interested her greatly.
“Iona,” the soft voice answered very distinctly.
“Come, come, Elsa! It is time to start,” her Uncle Ned said, hurrying
up to her and trying to be very gruff. His face was quite red under its
tanned colour, and he was biting the ends of his moustache savagely.
But just then, at a signal from the head-nurse, the children began to
sing their Christmas carol:
“Once in royal David’s city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby,
In a manger for his bed;
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little child.
“For he is our childhood’s pattern;
Day by day like us he grew;
He was little, weak, and helpless,
Tears and smiles like us he knew;
And he feeleth for our sadness,
And he shareth in our gladness.
“And our eyes at last shall see him,
Through his own redeeming love;
For that child so dear and gentle
Is our Lord in heaven above,
And he leads his children on
To the place where he is gone.”
Then, because they were such frail little children that they could not
learn much or readily, they sang as the other part of their Christmas
service, their daily grace:
“Thank Him, thank Him,
All ye little children,
Thank Him, thank Him,
God is love.”
The plaintive child faces, some of them white as snow-drops, the
delicate, sweet voices singing the Christmas hymn and the simple grace,
proved too much for Uncle Ned’s tender heart. “We must go, we must
go this minute!” he exclaimed hurriedly calling the Club together and
fairly driving them out of the room, before him.
Elsa looked back long enough to say good-bye to the dark-eyed child
of her fancy, and the little one called cheerily: “Dood-bye. I am all
better! Tum aden.”
The head-nurse followed the retreating man and the hurrying children
along the passageway toward the front door with a very understanding
look on her face.
“Have we stayed too long?” Elsa inquired anxiously, stopping behind the
others and lifting her serious eyes to Miss Hartwell’s face.
“No, dear; there are still a few moments left of the time I had set for
your little Club to stay.”
Elsa did not tell this to the other children or to her uncle. Already,
however, she had learned what her uncle did not yet know, but what he
learned later: that while the first visit to the Convalescent Home
is saddening, each time after that the place grows more and more
interesting and less sad to visit.
At the door Mr. Ned Danforth turned and shook hands briskly with the
head-nurse.
“Splendid place here!” he said, again very gruffly. “Noble work
you are doing! Thank you for your kindness to us.” Then he thrust a
large-sized bill into her hand, saying in a desperate sort of way, “Use
it to do something more for those children!”
And Ben suddenly remembered the small white box containing five dollars
and sixty cents which he had in his pocket. He pulled it forth and
handed it to Miss Hartwell with a profound bow: “It is some money that
the Christmas Makers’ Club--that’s us--have earned all ourselves to
help the little Convalescings.”
“Thank you, thank you, all of you,” said Miss Hartwell, looking from
one to another of the bright-faced children. “I am sure you cannot
realize how much help you have given to the children here and to the
Home.”
Too delighted for words, the Club members smiled back at Miss Hartwell.
She hesitated about speaking of Miss Ruth Warren, for Mr. Danforth
had told her, when they first came, of the Club’s tearful tendencies.
It was not until the children were going through the doorway that she
said: “You are as heartily sorry as I am, I know, because Miss Warren
could not come with you; but we shall look forward to other visits
from your Club when the longer days of spring are here.”
The faces of the children showed their mingled grief and anticipation
expressively; they were speechless, however, on the subject of Miss
Ruth.
“May I take some of the little chaps out sleigh-riding to-morrow
morning?” asked Ben, a heartful of sympathy shining in his boyish face.
“Yes, Ben; and you don’t know how those little lads look forward to
their drives with you. We shall have to call you the Charioteer of the
Convalescent Home,” said Miss Hartwell.
Then, as the door closed behind them, Mr. Danforth speedily bundled the
Club into the sleigh for the homeward drive.
When they turned into Berkeley Avenue, Elsa thought she caught a sight,
far ahead, of her grandmother’s gray horse; but she decided it could
not have been, because her grandmother almost never went driving in the
morning, and she surely would not be away from home when there was so
much to see about in regard to the Christmas-tree. Even Elsa herself
did not know what all the surprises were to be, although she knew that
many wonderful things were going to happen that Christmas afternoon.
That afternoon, the surprises came so fast and so astonishingly that
the heads of the Christmas Makers’ Club and of all concerned fairly
whirled with excitement.
To begin with, Ben and Alice thought it strange indeed that Mrs.
Danforth’s gray horse and handsome double-seated sleigh were sent to
take their mother and them to the Christmas party.
“Why couldn’t we go with Jerry just as well?” Ben asked loyally. “I
could cover him all up with his blanket and hitch him in front of
Elsa’s grandmother’s house.”
But Mrs. Holt only smiled for answer. The children had found their
mother very bright-eyed, on their return, and she had been more than
usually tender with them, but had told them nothing as yet.
“Do you think Elsa’s grandmother will let us drive home, or will we
have to walk?” Alice asked gravely.
“I think she will have us drive home,” said Mrs. Holt, turning aside
to hide the happy tears that would spring into her eyes. She had
dressed Alice in her prettiest white dress,--a soft muslin with dainty
lace-trimmed ruffles,--and Ben wore for the first time a new dark blue
blouse suit; for Mrs. Holt was anxious to have her children look their
best that afternoon.
“Mrs. Danforth would like to see you all in the library, ma’am,” said
Cummings, who opened the door. The twins wondered very much why their
mother’s hands trembled so. It could not be because she was afraid of
that straight-backed maid-servant who took their wraps and who smiled
at them quite pleasantly. Elsa was nowhere to be seen, which surprised
them.
In the centre of the library stood Mrs. Danforth, not quite so erect as
usual, and with one hand on a chair, to support herself. She bowed her
head and her figure swayed slightly when Mrs. Holt entered the room,
with Ben just ahead of her on the right and Alice on the left.
“Mother,--here are my children, Alice and Ben,” Mrs. Holt said in
a low voice which sounded as if there were tears behind it, “and,
children dear,”--she pressed them gently forward,--“this is your own
grandmother.”
Mrs. Danforth knelt down suddenly and put her arms around both of the
mystified children, looking first into one and then the other of the
amazed, blue-eyed faces. She tried to speak, but something choked her.
“Let me tell them, mother,” said Mrs. Holt, helping her to rise and
leading her to a chair. “I have always promised them I would tell them,
some day, about their grandmother.” Kneeling down, herself, now, by
the side of the chair, and drawing the children into her embrace, Mrs.
Holt said in the same tear-sounding voice and very slowly: “Listen,
children: when I was hardly more than a grown-up girl, I ran away from
my home and married your father against my mother’s wishes, for he
was a poor man, and he, too, was hardly old enough to be married. And
because I was a disobedient daughter, my mother punished me by not
wanting to see me for a long, long time. That time is ended now and--”
Mrs. Holt hid her face and her tears against her own little daughter’s
shoulder.
Then Mrs. Danforth found her voice and said: “Dear children, your
grandmother has been a sorry, sad woman all these years that she tried
to punish her daughter, but she is happy--very happy now--to have her
daughter back again and her own grandchildren.”
“Are you our grandmother?” Alice asked shyly, staring with wide-open
blue eyes at the gray-haired lady who said such interesting things and
seemed so sorry.
“Yes, darling,” was the grandmotherly answer. “And you look just as
your mother looked when she was a little girl.”
“You are really and truly my grandmother?” asked Ben in a delighted
tone, although he could not stop thinking how surprising it was that
his mother had ever been a little girl, and had been punished.
“Yes. Are you going to love me?” Mrs. Danforth was astonished at
herself for asking.
For particular answer, Ben threw his arms around her neck. “It’s going
to be real easy for me to love you,” he said happily. Then he drew back
and looked at her, seriously, before he announced: “I think I shall
call you Grandmother Gray.”
“That is a very good name, my boy,” she said, smiling through the
joyful tears that had sprung into her eyes at the feeling of his loving
young arms around her neck; and her glasses fell off her nose like any
grandmother’s.
“Is Elsa our cousin now?” asked Ben, who was always of an inquiring
turn of mind.
“No, my dear,” replied his grandmother, brushing back his hair with
her richly jewelled hand; “and I will tell you why. After your own
grandfather died and after your mother went away, I married a widower,
Judge Danforth, who had two sons. One of those sons was Elsa’s father
and the other is her Uncle Ned, whom you know. After Judge Danforth
died, and Elsa’s father also, I moved to Berkeley, because I knew that
your mother was here, and I could not live any longer without seeing
her and my grandchildren. Elsa is no real relation to me at all.”
Alice, who was holding her mother’s hand closely in hers while all
these wonderful things were going on, looked wholly puzzled; but Ben
thrust his hands into the pockets of his new trousers,--jingled the
two silver quarters he had earned by helping Mr. Danforth an hour that
morning, after the drive,--and said thoughtfully: “Then Elsa hasn’t you
for a real grandmother. Does she know it?”
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Danforth; “I told her after she came from the
Convalescent Home this morning.”
“I am all the gladder she is going to have Susie!” cried Alice; then
she quickly clapped her rounded hand over her mouth.
But Ben had more questions to ask, so he did not notice that Alice had
told. “Are you very rich, Grandmother Gray?”
“Yes,” she answered, rather surprised that the boy should ask this.
“Will you give Peggy--I mean Alice--some pretty dresses, same as Elsa
and Betty have?”
“Yes, my boy, Alice shall have everything she wants and so shall you.”
Alice put her chubby hands together softly, in almost unbelieving joy,
and Ben said radiantly: “What I want most of all is that mother of mine
need not work hard any more.”
A look of great sorrow passed over Mrs. Danforth’s face, and Mrs. Holt
whispered to Ben: “Hush, my darling.”
The front door-bell ringing, told of the arrival of other guests. “We
must call Elsa in for a moment,” said Mrs. Danforth, rising. Her eyes
were soft now, with that look of tears in them. Stepping to the library
door, she said gently, “Elsa!” And Elsa, who had been waiting in the
reception-room across the hall, came into the library just as Ruth
Warren and Betty and a quiet little woman--whom Cummings instantly
recognized--entered the hall door and were asked by Cummings to go
up-stairs and leave their wraps.
Elsa was dressed in a dainty white silk gown with a full, many-ruffled
skirt. She looked very pale as she stepped into the library and stood,
a lone, sensitive-faced child, opposite the happy group of grandmother,
mother, and two children.
It was Elsa, strangely enough, who spoke first. Turning to Alice, she
said slowly: “You--you and Ben have a grandmother now and I haven’t
any. Shall I have to go away,” she asked, lifting her pathetic eyes to
Mrs. Danforth’s face, “and be a poor little girl?” She had just begun
to think of this question.
“You need never go away unless you wish to, Elsa,” Mrs. Danforth said
quickly. “And you will not be a poor little girl, for, as your Uncle
Ned and I have agreed that I should tell you to-day, you are a very
rich little girl, with a great deal of money that is all your own.”
“O, how glad I am!” cried Elsa, some of the sorrowful look dying out
of her eyes; “for now I can do everything I want to, to help the
Convalescent children.”
There was something so touching and so winning in the little orphan
girl, standing there with her face full of unselfish joy at the thought
of what she could do for others less fortunate than herself, that Mrs.
Danforth suddenly humbled herself before this little child.
“Elsa,” she said, stepping forward, “I have not been as kind and loving
to you as I might have been. But the love which springs up in my heart
for my own grandchildren makes me realize how much I also love the
little girl who has brightened my home and been so brave and obedient.”
She held out her arms. Elsa came forward gladly, and Mrs. Danforth
kissed her with warm affection,--apparently quite forgetting that she
had ever thought this a foolish custom. And Elsa felt that she loved
her grandmother-that-was a great deal more dearly now that she wasn’t
really her grandmother. Then Alice put her soft arms around Elsa’s
neck, and Mrs. Holt said kindly: “I shall have to call you my little
niece, Elsa.”
Ben spoke up then: “Do you remember I’ve never told you my name for
you, Elsa? I’ve changed it now. It used to be Sad Girl, that’s why I
didn’t tell you before; but now it’s going to be ‘Princess.’” Dropping
a shy kiss on Elsa’s golden hair, Ben ran off in answer to a muffled
summons.
At that same moment Cummings pulled back the heavy green velvet
portières which separated the library from the drawing-room, and the
glory of the Christmas-tree burst upon the children’s sight.
The tree, reaching nearly to the ceiling, stood at the farther end
of the long drawing-room, its graceful branches fairly drooping with
treasures. There were packages of every shape and description; there
were long icicles, moving, swaying balls of silver and gold, scarlet
and blue, glowing and sparkling in the mellow radiance of many wax
candles; and there was a beautiful white Christmas angel at the very
top of the tree. A warm, spicy odour of balsam fir filled the air, and
a splendid, roaring fire in the great fireplace cast a ruddy light over
the beautiful furnishings of the drawing-room.
Elsa, puzzled and excited by the events of the day, ran forward to
greet Miss Ruth with a feeling as of seeking shelter. “Do you know that
grandmother isn’t my grandmother really, but is Alice’s and Ben’s?” she
said in a low tone, slipping her hand into Miss Ruth’s.
Ruth Warren, who had on the black lace gown with the little old lady’s
coral beads around her neck, gazed in surprise at Elsa for a half
moment. Then it was all so simple that she wondered why she had not
thought of Mrs. Danforth’s possibly having been twice married. “We
know now why both your grandmother--I mean Mrs. Danforth--and Mrs. Holt
have the paintings alike,” said Miss Ruth.
“Yes, I remember--the picture of the house where grandmother used to
live,” cried Elsa.
But one could not stop very long to think about any one thing, with
that Christmas-tree in the room.
“I wish my Uncle Ned could be here,” Elsa exclaimed, as she swung
around into sight of the tree. “He had to go to the city this noon.
Perhaps he will come back before the tree is over. He said he would if
he could.”
While Betty and Alice were gazing delightedly at the gorgeous tree,
Miss Ruth asked Elsa, in a low voice, to go across the hall into the
reception-room to find a Christmas surprise which was waiting for her
there. And soon Elsa came back with shining, happy eyes, leading by the
hand a short, comely-faced woman whose brown hair was slightly streaked
with gray. “This is Bettina March, my dear, dear Bettina,” said Elsa,
introducing the shy, modest little woman to the group of her friends;
but Bettina, although she greeted them all in a musical voice, with
a slight German accent, had eyes only for her beloved former charge,
Elsa.
“Where is Ben?” asked Ruth Warren, in part to turn attention from the
shrinking stranger, who was half-laughing, half-crying with joy, and
in part because she was wondering who would take the presents from the
tree.
Then an amazing thing happened. With a long hoo-oo-t! a great gray owl
hopped, sidling fashion, from the library doorway into the full sight
of the astonished Christmas party, flapping his wings awkwardly as he
made his way across the room to the Christmas-tree. And close behind
him scampered a very large gray squirrel.
A shout went up from the children.
“Gray Owl Santa Claus!” cried Betty, whirling round and round till she
looked like a red balloon in her holly-red dress.
Alice, half-frightened, drew away from the Gray Owl toward the
Squirrel. “Ben is the Squirrel,” she exclaimed, for nothing could
deceive her with regard to her twin brother.
“Keep a good heart!” the Gray Owl called out in a quick, muffled voice,
close to Elsa’s ear.
“O, Uncle Ned, Uncle Ned!” she cried delightedly. “You came back to be
a Gray Owl Santa Claus! What a dear, funny uncle you are.”
Then the Gray Owl, with sudden, awkward movements, began taking the
presents off from the tree and handing them to the Gray Squirrel, who
clasped his paws around them and carried them to the persons whose
names the Owl had called in a deep, muffled voice.
And then it was that the Club had a chance to see the marvellous
costumes of the queer Santa Claus and his helper. The Gray Owl’s
body-covering was of soft gray wool material which lay in ridges
like downy feathers; the wings, which were held to his arms by long
sleeves of gray gauze, were made of closely placed long gray feathers
and quills, and his head was covered by a gray owl mask, with tufted
ears and yellow eyes having thin black slits. The squirrel had on
a most cleverly made coat of soft gray wool shaded to purest white
on the breast; a bristly, broom-like tail dragged behind him, and a
pointed-nosed mask with sharp little ears, was drawn close over his
head.
By this time every one had received many presents, and a great opening
of packages had begun. The Club members had thought of most interesting
remembrances for one another. Elsa and Betty had together given Alice
a beautiful doll that could talk, a blue-eyed waxen beauty with
fringed eyelashes that opened and shut, rose-leaf cheeks and silky
flaxen curls; and the two girls had given to Ben a locomotive with an
electric battery,--a bewitching package which he stopped long enough
to open with his deft gray squirrel paws, and to cry out about, in his
unsquirrel-like voice: “Oh, my, how jolly!” Alice and Ben had together
given to Betty and to Elsa each a beautiful white hyacinth. Elsa had
from Betty a trunkful of dresses for her best doll, and Betty from Elsa
a dainty silver watch. From Miss Ruth, Ben had a box of tools, and each
of the girls a gold thimble.
Still the Gray Owl kept on taking presents from the tree, the Squirrel
jumped around with packages, and the fun went on. Nobody was forgotten.
There were presents for Bettina, who ran away soon to Miss Virginia,
after a last loving look at Elsa; there were presents for Miss Ruth and
Mrs. Holt, for Mrs. Danforth and for Mrs. White, who came in somewhat
late to have a look at her neighbour’s Christmas-tree. There were
presents for Mr. Danforth, who tucked them away in some mysterious
make-believe Gray Owl tree-hollow; for Cummings, and for Sarah Judd,
who came by special invitation of the Club, and who smiled until her
face seemed in danger of cracking apart, as she received first a bright
scarlet geranium from Ben and Alice, then a pretty white apron from
Betty, and a handsomely illustrated book from Elsa.
When the Squirrel, taking a square package, ran with little leaping
steps to Mrs. Danforth and began making a speech, everybody stopped
talking to listen.
“Grandmother Gray,” he said, “when you invited the Club to have a
Christmas-tree at your house, I had an idea that you must be very rich,
and I thought you must need a good safe place to keep your money in, so
I made this for you.”
Mrs. Danforth, with trembling fingers, like any surprised grandmother,
unwrapped the package to find a box, neatly jointed together, with the
lower part just large enough to put bills in laid out flat, and the
upper part divided into five places,--one, each, for pennies, five-cent
pieces, ten-cent pieces, quarters and half-dollars, as Ben, looking on,
explained. The box was stained a rich, dark red colour, and had a tiny
padlock and key.
“Nonsense!” said the grandmother in greatest delight. “Did you make
this, Ben?”
“Yes, grandmother; I used to think I would be a carpenter,” replied
Ben, as she took his two gray kid-gloved little hands into hers for a
moment. “I think now, though, that I shall be a bird-man.”
Then, just like any fond, indulgent grandmother, Mrs. Danforth smiled
and said: “You shall be whatever you want to be, my boy.” And Mrs. Holt
looked with motherly pride upon her bright-eyed, happy-faced son.
While the box was being passed around and admired and the Squirrel was
explaining it, the Gray Owl hopped in his funny sidelong fashion, with
awkward, flopping wings, to Alice--who was not afraid of him now--and
asked her to give to Elsa a long white box marked: “From the Christmas
Makers’ Club.”
“Susie! Susie! You dear old doll,” Elsa cried, drawing a long,
sobbing breath of delight. They all turned at her exclamation and saw
her clasping to her breast an old-fashioned china doll in a white
ball dress looped up with morsels of pink rosebuds over a blue silk
petticoat.
But there was no time even to explain to Elsa why the Club had given
her the old-fashioned doll, for another exciting event claimed their
attention immediately. The Gray Owl and the Squirrel together took a
heavy, flat package to Miss Ruth, who had already received so many
remembrances that she was far from having thoughts of anything more.
The Club watched breathlessly. This was the present which Mrs. White
had helped them choose.
From under many white-paper wrappings appeared at last a beautiful Fra
Angelico trumpeter angel, soft, rich, scarlet-and-gold in colouring, in
a handsome gilt frame. With the picture came a card, on which Betty had
written with great carefulness: “An angel to blow you a greeting from
your affectionate Christmas Makers’ Club.” And to this card all the
members of the Club had signed their names.
Hardly had Miss Ruth had time to thank the Club, when the Gray Owl
handed to Elsa a long, white business-like looking envelope addressed
to “Miss Ruth Warren, President of the Christmas Makers’ Club.” The
excitement of Elsa’s manner made the others look on again with keenest
interest.
What was their delight and rapture to have Miss Ruth read a legal
paper, presenting to the Club, from Elsa Danforth, the gift, for the
exclusive use of the Club, of a log-hut on a certain piece of wood
property on Berkeley Avenue.
“The hut! The hut! All our own!” cried Betty, whirling around again
like a lively red balloon. And then they all began talking at once and
very fast about furnishing the hut, of keeping some dolls and dishes
there, even of having a fireplace built so they could use the hut for
meetings in cold weather!
Elsa, whose thought this gift of the hut had been--although her Uncle
Ned had carried it out, with Ben’s help--stood enjoying to the full the
happiness of the Club, when suddenly, with a long, low hoo-oo-t! the
Gray Owl, flapping his wings, landed in front of her. Bowing low, he
said: “Princess, the Gray Owl begs that you will allow him to live with
you here, in Berkeley, from this time forth.”
“Uncle Ned! Do you really mean it?” she begged, lifting her flower-like
face and beseeching gray eyes to his.
“Yes, the Gray Owl really means it. He will not be a cross Gray Owl,
though, so keep a good heart, Princess,” he answered, making believe
he thought she did not want him to live with her, for he had seen
tears start under her long eyelashes. Then, because he knew that many
exciting things had happened to his little niece that day, he drew her
toward him and held her under the shelter of his soft gray wings.
Of all the surprises that Christmas had brought to Elsa, this last one
was the best. It was far more than the knowledge that she had a great
deal of money even though she was happy in the thought that she could
help the convalescent children with that money; it was more than the
great satisfaction of having Bettina March come back into her life,
more than the gift of the little old lady’s doll and all the many
other Christmas presents put together:--more than all these; for she
loved her Uncle Ned better than she loved anybody else in the whole
wide world. And she drew back within the shelter of the wide wings in
supreme content.
THE END.
BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
(Trade Mark)
_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
Each, 1 vol. large, 12mo, cloth decorative, per vol. $1.50
The Little Colonel Stories.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated.
Being three “Little Colonel” stories in the Cosy Corner Series, “The
Little Colonel,” “Two Little Knights of Kentucky,” and “The Giant
Scissors,” put into a single volume.
The Little Colonel’s House Party.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by Louis Meynell.
The Little Colonel’s Holidays.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
The Little Colonel’s Hero.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel at Boarding School.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel in Arizona.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel’s Christmas Vacation.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel, Maid of Honour.
(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
Since the time of “Little Women,” no juvenile heroine has been better
beloved of her child readers than Mrs. Johnston’s “Little Colonel.”
The Little Colonel.
(Trade Mark)
Two Little Knights of Kentucky.
The Giant Scissors.
Big Brother.
Special Holiday Editions
Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25.
New plates, handsomely illustrated, with eight full-page drawings in
color.
“The books are as satisfactory to the small girls, who find them
adorable, as for the mothers and librarians, who delight in their
influence.”--_Christian Register._
These four volumes, boxed as a four-volume set $5.00
=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.
The Legend of the Bleeding Heart.
Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative $0.50
Paper boards .35
There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of
these four stories, which were originally included in four of the
“Little Colonel” books.
=Joel: A Boy of Galilee.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel Books,
1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50
A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author’s best-known
books.
=Asa Holmes=; OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of Country
Life and Country Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. With a
frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.
Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00
“‘Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads’ is the most delightful, most
sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long
while.”--_Boston Times._
=The Rival Campers=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY BURNS. By RUEL
PERLEY SMITH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
Here is a book which will grip and enthuse every boy reader. It is
the story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, alert, and
athletic, who spend a summer camping on an island off the Maine coast.
“The best boys’ book since ‘Tom Sawyer.’”--_San Francisco Examiner._
=The Rival Campers Afloat=; OR, THE PRIZE YACHT VIKING. By RUEL
PERLEY SMITH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
This book is a continuation of the adventures of “The Rival Campers” on
their prize yacht _Viking_. An accidental collision results in a series
of exciting adventures, culminating in a mysterious chase, the loss
of their prize yacht, and its recapture by means of their old yacht,
_Surprise_.
=The Rival Campers Ashore.= By RUEL PERLEY SMITH, author of
“The Rival Campers,” “The Rival Campers Afloat,” etc.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
“The Rival Campers Ashore” deals with the adventures of the campers and
their friends in and around the town of Benton. Mr. Smith introduces
a new character,--a girl,--who shows them the way to an old mill,
around which the mystery of the story revolves. The girl is an
admirable acquisition, proving as daring and resourceful as the campers
themselves.
=The Young Section-Hand=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST. By
BURTON E. STEVENSON, author of “The Marathon Mystery,” etc.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by L. J. Bridgman
$1.50
Mr. Stevenson’s hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance
as a section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are
as real as they are thrilling.
=The Young Train Dispatcher.= By BURTON E. STEVENSON, author of
“The Young Section-hand,” etc.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
The young hero has many chances to prove his manliness and courage in
the exciting adventures which befall him in the discharge of his duty.
=Captain Jack Lorimer.= By WINN STANDISH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by A. B. Shute $1.50
Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy.
He has the sturdy qualities boys admire, and his fondness for clean,
honest sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among
athletic youths.
=Jack Lorimer’s Champions=; or, Sports on Land and Lake. By
WINN STANDISH, author of “Captain Jack Lorimer,” etc.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
All boys and girls who take an interest in school athletics will wish
to read of the exploits of the Millvale High School students, under the
leadership of Captain Jack Lorimer.
Captain Jack’s Champions play quite as good ball as do some of the
teams on the large leagues, and they put all opponents to good hard
work in other summer sports.
Jack Lorimer and his friends stand out as the finest examples of
all-round American high school boys and girls.
=Beautiful Joe’s Paradise=; OR, THE ISLAND OF BROTHERLY LOVE.
A sequel to “Beautiful Joe.” By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of
“Beautiful Joe.”
One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated $1.50
“This book revives the spirit of ‘Beautiful Joe’ capitally. It is
fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as unusual as anything
in the animal book line that has seen the light. It is a book for
juveniles--old and young.”--_Philadelphia Item._
=’Tilda Jane.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.
One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50
“It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that win
and charm the reader, and I did not put it down until I had finished
it--honest! And I am sure that every one, young or old, who reads will
be proud and happy to make the acquaintance of the delicious waif.
“I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I commend it
unreservedly.”--_Cyrus Townsend Brady._
=The Story of the Graveleys.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of
“Beautiful Joe’s Paradise,” “’Tilda Jane,” etc.
Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B. Barry $1.50
Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a
delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will
do the reader good to hear.
=Born to the Blue.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of
this delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry
stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the
gratitude of a nation.
=In West Point Gray.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
West Point forms the background for the second volume in this series,
and gives us the adventures of Jack as a cadet. Here the training of
his childhood days in the frontier army post stands him in good stead;
and he quickly becomes the central figure of the West Point life.
=The Sandman; His Farm Stories.= By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. With
fifty illustrations by Ada Clendenin Williamson.
Large 12mo, decorative cover $1.50
“An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small
children. It should be one of the most popular of the year’s books for
reading to small children.”--_Buffalo Express._
=The Sandman: More Farm Stories.= By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS.
Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
Mr. Hopkins’s first essay at bedtime stories met with such approval
that this second book of “Sandman” tales was issued for scores of eager
children. Life on the farm, and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his
inimitable manner.
=The Sandman: His Ship Stories.= By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS, author
of “The Sandman: His Farm Stories,” etc.
Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
“Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who put the little ones
to bed, and rack their brains for stories, will find this book a
treasure.”--_Cleveland Leader._
“Children call for these stories over and over again.”--_Chicago
Evening Post._
=Pussy-Cat Town.= By MARION AMES TAGGART.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in
colors $1.00
“Pussy-Cat Town” is a most unusual delightful cat story. Ban-Ban, a
pure Maltese who belonged to Rob, Kiku-san, Lois’s beautiful snow-white
pet, and their neighbors Bedelia the tortoise-shell, Madame Laura the
widow, Wutz Butz the warrior, and wise old Tommy Traddles, were really
and truly cats.
=The Roses of Saint Elizabeth.= By JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF, author
of “The Little Christmas Shoe.”
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in
colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00
This is a charming little story of a child whose father was caretaker
of the great castle of the Wartburg, where Saint Elizabeth once had her
home.
=Gabriel and the Hour Book.= By EVALEEN STEIN.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in
colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00
Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the
monks in the long ago days, when all the books were written and
illuminated by hand, in the monasteries.
=The Enchanted Automobile.= Translated from the French by MARY
J. SAFFORD.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in
colors by Edna M. Sawyer $1.00
The enchanted automobile was sent by the fairy godmother of a lazy,
discontented little prince and princess to take them to fairyland,
where they might visit their storybook favorites.
=The Red Feathers.= By THEODORE ROBERTS, author of “Brothers of
Peril,” etc.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
“The Red Feathers” tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boy
who lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young,
and when fairies and magicians did wonderful things for their friends
and enemies.
=The Wreck of the Ocean Queen.= By JAMES OTIS, author of “Larry
Hudson’s Ambition,” etc.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
This story takes its readers on a sea voyage around the world; gives
them a trip on a treasure ship; an exciting experience in a terrific
gale; and finally a shipwreck, with a mutineering crew determined to
take the treasure to complicate matters.
But only the mutineers will come to serious harm, and after the reader
has known the thrilling excitement of lack of food and water, of
attacks by night and day, and of a hand-to-hand fight, he is rescued
and brought safely home again,--to realize that it’s only a story, but
a stirring and realistic one.
=Little White Indians.= By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
The “Little White Indians” were two families of children who “played
Indian” all one long summer vacation. They built wigwams and made
camps; they went hunting and fought fierce battles on the war-trail.
A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the
“make-believe” instinct in children, and will give them a healthy,
active interest in “the simple life.”
COSY CORNER SERIES
It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall
contain only the very highest and purest literature,--stories
that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, but be
appreciated by all those who feel with them in their joys and
sorrows.
The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known
artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover design.
Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50
_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
=The Little Colonel.= (Trade Mark.)
The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied
resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
old family are famous in the region.
The Giant Scissors.
This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a
great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with
her the delightful experiences of the “House Party” and the “Holidays.”
Two Little Knights of Kentucky.
WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL’S NEIGHBORS.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
the story, that place being taken by the “two little knights.”
Mildred’s Inheritance.
A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America
and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by
her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled
to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and
thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.
Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles will be glad to learn
of the issue of this volume for young people.
Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories.
A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all
boys and most girls.
Big Brother.
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small
boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.
Ole Mammy’s Torment.
“Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “a classic of Southern
life.” It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
The Story of Dago.
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the
account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
The Quilt That Jack Built.
A pleasant little story of a boy’s labor of love, and how it changed
the course of his life many years after it was accomplished.
Flip’s Islands of Providence.
A story of a boy’s life battle, his early defeat, and his final
triumph, well worth the reading.
_By EDITH ROBINSON_
A Little Puritan’s First Christmas.
A Story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented
by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother
Sam.
A Little Daughter of Liberty.
The author introduces this story as follows:
“One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution,
the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation
is another ride,--the ride of Anthony Severn,--which was no less
historic in its action or memorable in its consequences.”
A Loyal Little Maid.
A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the
child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George
Washington.
A Little Puritan Rebel.
This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
A Little Puritan Pioneer.
The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
Charlestown.
A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to
youthful readers.
A Little Puritan Cavalier.
The story of a “Little Puritan Cavalier” who tried with all his boyish
enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.
A Puritan Knight Errant.
The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to
carry out the high ideals of the knights of olden days.
_By OUIDA_ (_Louise de la Ramée_)
=A Dog of Flanders=: A CHRISTMAS STORY.
Too well and favorably known to require description.
The Nurnberg Stove.
This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_
The Little Giant’s Neighbours.
A charming nature story of a “little giant” whose neighbours were the
creatures of the field and garden.
Farmer Brown and the Birds.
A little story which teaches children that the birds are man’s best
friends.
Betty of Old Mackinaw.
A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little
readers who like stories of “real people.”
Brother Billy.
The story of Betty’s brother, and some further adventures of Betty
herself.
Mother Nature’s Little Ones.
Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or “childhood,”
of the little creatures out-of-doors.
How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.
A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an
unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The wonderful never-to-be
forgotten Christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of
exciting incidents.
_By MISS MULOCK_
The Little Lame Prince.
A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of
the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
Adventures of a Brownie.
The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is
a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him.
His Little Mother.
Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant source of
delight to them, and “His Little Mother,” in this new and attractive
dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.
Little Sunshine’s Holiday.
An attractive story of a summer outing. “Little Sunshine” is another
of those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly
famous.
_By MARSHALL SAUNDERS_
For His Country.
A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country;
written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of
readers.
Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter.
In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how dear to her heart
are all of God’s dumb creatures.
Alpatok, the Story of an Eskimo Dog.
Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his master
and left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for,
until he was able to return to his owner. Miss Saunders’s story is
based on truth, and the pictures in the book of “Alpatok” are based on
a photograph of the real Eskimo dog who had such a strange experience.
_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_
The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow.
This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to
all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful
and piquant style.
The Fortunes of the Fellow.
Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of “The Farrier’s Dog
and His Fellow” will welcome the further account of the adventures of
Baydaw and the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith.
The Best of Friends.
This continues the experiences of the Farrier’s dog and his Fellow,
written in Miss Dromgoole’s well-known charming style.
Down in Dixie.
A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Alabama children
who move to Florida and grow up in the South.
_By MARIAN W. WILDMAN_
Loyalty Island.
An account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on
an island, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion of
dishonesty.
Theodore and Theodora.
This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins,
and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in
“Loyalty Island.”
_By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS_
The Cruise of the Yacht Dido.
The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a fishing boat to
earn money to pay for a college course, and of their adventures while
exploring in search of hidden treasure.
The Young Acadian.
The story of a young lad of Acadia who rescued a little English girl
from the hands of savages.
The Lord of the Air.
THE STORY OF THE EAGLE
The King of the Mamozekel.
THE STORY OF THE MOOSE
The Watchers of the Camp-fire.
THE STORY OF THE PANTHER
The Haunter of the Pine Gloom.
THE STORY OF THE LYNX
The Return to the Trails.
THE STORY OF THE BEAR
The Little People of the Sycamore.
THE STORY OF THE RACCOON
_By OTHER AUTHORS_
The Great Scoop.
_By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL_
A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright,
enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon.
John Whopper.
The late Bishop Clark’s popular story of the boy who fell through the
earth and came out in China, with a new introduction by Bishop Potter.
The Dole Twins.
_By KATE UPSON CLARK_
The adventures of two little people who tried to earn money to buy
crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent description of child-life about
1812, which will greatly interest and amuse the children of to-day,
whose life is widely different.
Larry Hudson’s Ambition.
_By JAMES OTIS_, author of “Toby Tyler,” etc.
Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard work and enterprise
gain him his ambition,--an education and a start in the world.
The Little Christmas Shoe.
_By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF_
A touching story of Yule-tide.
Wee Dorothy.
_By LAURA UPDEGRAFF_
A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest,
a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. With a bit of
sadness at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and
altogether wholesome in every way.
=The King of the Golden River=: A LEGEND OF STIRIA. _By JOHN
RUSKIN_
Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for
publication, this little fairy-tale soon became known and made a place
for itself.
A Child’s Garden of Verses.
_By R. L. STEVENSON_
Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to need description. It
will be heartily welcomed in this new and attractive edition.
THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES
The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child-life in
other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures.
Each one vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more
full-page illustrations in color.
Price per volume $0.60
_By MARY HAZELTON WADE_ (_unless otherwise indicated_)
=Our Little African Cousin=
=Our Little Alaskan Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Arabian Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Armenian Cousin=
=Our Little Brown Cousin=
=Our Little Canadian Cousin=
By Elizabeth R. Macdonald
=Our Little Chinese Cousin=
By Isaac Taylor Headland
=Our Little Cuban Cousin=
=Our Little Dutch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little English Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
=Our Little French Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little German Cousin=
=Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
=Our Little Hindu Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Indian Cousin=
=Our Little Irish Cousin=
=Our Little Italian Cousin=
=Our Little Japanese Cousin=
=Our Little Jewish Cousin=
=Our Little Korean Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Mexican Cousin=
By Edward C. Butler
=Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
=Our Little Panama Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Philippine Cousin=
=Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
=Our Little Russian Cousin=
=Our Little Scotch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Siamese Cousin=
=Our Little Spanish Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Swedish Cousin=
By Claire M. Coburn
=Our Little Swiss Cousin=
=Our Little Turkish Cousin=
THE GOLDENROD LIBRARY
The Goldenrod Library contains stories which appeal alike both to
children and to their parents and guardians.
Each volume is well illustrated from drawings by competent artists,
which, together with their handsomely decorated uniform binding,
showing the goldenrod, usually considered the emblem of America, is a
feature of their manufacture.
Each one volume, small 12mo, illustrated $0.35
LIST OF TITLES
=Aunt Nabby’s Children.= By Frances Hodges White.
=Child’s Dream of a Star, The.= By Charles Dickens.
=Flight of Rosy Dawn, The.= By Pauline Bradford Mackie.
=Findelkind.= By Ouida.
=Fairy of the Rhone, The.= By A. Comyns Carr.
=Gatty and I.= By Frances E. Crompton.
=Helena’s Wonderworld.= By Frances Hodges White.
=Jerry’s Reward.= By Evelyn Snead Barnett.
=La Belle Nivernaise.= By Alphonse Daudet.
=Little King Davie.= By Nellie Hellis.
=Little Peterkin Vandike.= By Charles Stuart Pratt.
=Little Professor, The.= By Ida Horton Cash.
=Peggy’s Trial.= By Mary Knight Potter.
=Prince Yellowtop.= By Kate Whiting Patch.
=Provence Rose, A.= By Ouida.
=Seventh Daughter, A.= By Grace Wickham Curran.
=Sleeping Beauty, The.= By Martha Baker Dunn.
=Small, Small Child, A.= By E. Livingston Prescott.
=Susanne.= By Frances J. Delano.
=Water People, The.= By Charles Lee Sleight.
=Young Archer, The.= By Charles E. Brimblecom.
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other
spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.
Italics are represented thus _italic_, bold is represented
thus =bold=.