CHRISTMAS GREENS AND WATCH-NIGHT EMBERS
THERE is a chapter in Betty's Good Times book which tells all about that
last day at the seminary, before the Christmas vacation; of the hurried
packing and leave-taking; of her trip to town with Lloyd to meet Papa
Jack and come out home with him on the five o'clock train, laden with
Christmas packages like all the other suburban passengers; of the
carriage waiting for them at the depot, just as if they had been away at
some school a long distance from the Valley, and then the crowning joy
of seeing her godmother on the platform, waving her handkerchief as the
train stopped in front of the depot.
They had not expected her back from Hot Springs until the next day, and
all the way out on the train had been discussing the reception they
intended to give her. There had been a twinkle in Mr. Sherman's eyes as
he listened, for he knew of this surprise in store for them, and had had
a hand in planning it.
It is all in Betty's Good Times book, even to the way they rolled down
the steps and fell over each other in their haste to reach her, and the
welcome that made it seem more than ever as if they were coming home
from a long journey to spend their Christmas vacation, just as thousands
of other schoolgirls were doing all over the country. Then the drive
homeward in the frosty, starlit dusk to find Locust all a-twinkle, a
light in every window and a fire on every hearth; the great front door
swinging wide on its hospitable hinges to send a stream of light down
the avenue to meet them, and the spirit of Christmas cheer and
expectancy falling warm upon them as they crossed the threshold.
The memory of it would be something to be glad for always, Betty
thought, as she danced into the long drawing-room after Lloyd, and saw
the old Colonel start up from his chair before the fire and come forward
to meet them, the candle-light falling softly on his silver hair and
smiling face.
Although Betty had laid aside her unfinished romance of Gladys and
Eugene, she could no more help writing than a fish can keep from
swimming, and that is why her Good Times book held so many interesting
pages. All the energy and time that would have been put into the silly
little novel went instead to the description of real scenes and real
people, which in after years made the little white books the most
precious volumes in all her library. As fast as one was filled she began
another. The one now on her desk had the number IV. stamped in gold on
the white kid cover, under her initials.
There were few pages in this fourth volume more interesting than the
ones she found time to write on Christmas Eve. She had gone with Lloyd
and Allison and Kitty that afternoon in search for Christmas greens with
which to decorate the house.
Malcolm and Keith Maclntyre, Rob Moore, and Ranald Walton had met them
in Tanglewood, their guns over their shoulders, and had joined them in
their quest. The mistletoe they wanted grew too high to be climbed for
or to be dislodged by throwing at, but Ranald, an expert marksman,
volunteered to shoot down all they could carry. He was just home from
military school on his vacation, and Rob Moore had been out for two days
hunting with him. Malcolm and Keith had been at their grandmother's
several days, tramping long distances over the frosty fields, and coming
in well satisfied each evening with the contents of their game-bags.
Malcolm and Rob were to leave for the same college-preparatory school
after the holidays, and as they were going back to town on the five
o'clock train they had but a short time left to spend in the Valley. So
the party, after some discussion, divided into three groups, agreeing to
meet at the depot.
Ranald strode away across the woods as fast as his long legs would carry
him to the trees where the mistletoe hung. Kitty and Katie kept close in
his wake, swinging the baskets between them that he was to fill. Keith
and Betty hurried on to the place where the bittersweet grew thickest,
while Rob and Allison, Malcolm and Lloyd strolled along, filling their
baskets from the occasional trees of hemlock, spruce, and cedar they
found on their way among the bare oaks and beeches. Now and then they
found a pine with the brown cones clinging to the spicy boughs.
Only Betty's part of that quest is in the little white record; how they
ran along through Tanglewood that afternoon, she and Keith, in the late
December sunshine, breathing in the woodsy odour of the fallen leaves
and the crisp frostiness of the air, until the blood tingled in their
finger-tips and their cheeks grew red as rosy apples.
It was a pretty picture she left on the page, of the winter woods, of
the old stile leading into the adjoining churchyard, where in almost a
thicket of bare dogwood-trees and lilac-bushes stood the little
Episcopal church, built like the one next the manse, of picturesque gray
stone. The walls were aglow with the brilliant red and orange berries of
the bittersweet, which hung even from the eaves and cornices, and from
every place where the graceful vines could trail and twist and clamber.
Lloyd kept no record of that afternoon, but she never forgot it. She
walked along, her eyes shining like stars, her cheeks glowing. Her dark
blue cap and jacket made her hair seem all the fairer by contrast, and
there was a glint of gold in it, wherever the sun touched it through the
trees.
Rob and Malcolm were full of their plans for the coming term, and talked
of little else all the way through the woods, but as they reached the
stile, over which Keith and Betty had passed some time before, Rob
exclaimed:
"I forgot to tell you, Lloyd! When we were out hunting yesterday we
stopped at a cabin ever so far from here, to rest and warm. And what do
you suppose we saw on the pendulum of an old clock, swinging away on the
mantel as big as life? _Your picture!_ The one of the Princess, you
know, with the dove. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. The old man
told us it had been given to his daughter, and when he found out who
Ranald was he sent a message to Mrs. Walton about her. She's in a
hospital and will soon be well enough to come home. Mrs. Walton told us
all about it last night, how the girl imagined every time the clock
ticked that you were saying, 'For love will find the way.' It made quite
a pretty story, but you can't imagine how queer it was to stumble across
your picture in such an out-of-the-way place, and fixed up in such odd
shape, on a pendulum, of all things!"
[Illustration: "MALCOLM, LEANING ON HIS GUN, STOOD WATCHING HER."]
"It helped Corono ever so much, mother said," remarked Allison. "That's
one good thing our Shadow Club led to, if nothing else." She climbed up
on the stile and stood looking over, exclaiming at the beauty of the old
gray walls, draped in the masses of brilliant bittersweet; then,
springing down, ran across the churchyard to join Betty and Keith on the
other side and make her own selection of vines.
Rob leaned his gun against the fence and took out his watch. "Only half
an hour longer," he announced. Then, opening the back of his watch-case,
he held it out toward Lloyd.
"Do you remember that?" he asked, nodding toward a little four-leaf
clover which lay flat and green inside. "Your good-luck charm worked
wonders, Lloyd. It helped me through my Latin in such fine shape that I
intend to carry it through college with me all the way. It's like the
picture on the pendulum, isn't it? only this says, 'For _luck_ will find
the way.'"
As Lloyd began some laughing reply about his being superstitious,
Betty's voice called from the vestry door, "Oh, Rob! Come around here a
minute, please! Here's the loveliest bunch of berries you ever saw, and
it's too high for any one but you to reach!"
With one leap Rob was over the stile hurrying to Betty's assistance.
Lloyd had filled both pockets of her jacket with hickory-nuts on her way
through Tanglewood, and, seating herself on the top step of the stile,
she began cracking them with a round stone which she had picked up near
the fence. Malcolm, leaning on his gun, stood watching her.
"You never gave _me_ any four-leaf clover, Lloyd," he said, in a low
tone, as Rob strode away.
"You nevah happened to be around when I found any," answered Lloyd,
carelessly. "Have a nut instead." She nodded toward the pile on the step
beside her.
Malcolm flushed a trifle. He was nearly sixteen, tall and
broad-shouldered, but the colour came as easily to his handsome face
now as when a little fellow of ten he had begged her to keep his silver
arrow "to remember him by."
"No, thanks," he answered, stiffly. There was a jealous note in his
voice as he added, "And you wouldn't let me keep the little heart of
gold that night after the play."
"Of co'se not! Papa Jack gave me that. I think everything of it."
"You wouldn't even lend it to me," he continued.
"Because we'd come to the end of the play. You were not Sir Feal any
longah, and you didn't have any shield to bind it on, so what good would
it have done?"
"But we haven't come to the end of the play," he insisted. "I've thought
of you ever since as my Princess Winsome, and it has been more than a
year since that night. Yesterday, when I saw your picture on the
pendulum, and heard how it had influenced that girl in the cabin, I
wished that I could make you understand how much more your influence
means to me; and I made up my mind to ask you for something. Will you
give it to me, Lloyd? It's just the tip of that little curl behind your
ear. It shines like gold, and I want to put it in the back of my watch
as a talisman, like they used to carry in old times, you know--a token
that I am your knight, and that I may do as it says in the song, come
back to you 'on some glad morrow.' I want to carry it with me always, as
I shall always carry your shadow-self wherever I go."
Lloyd bent her head so far over the nuts as she chose one with great
deliberation that her hair fell across the cheek nearest him, and he
could not see how red her face grew. How handsome he was, she thought.
How deep and clear his eyes looked as they smiled into hers. If she had
never known of Ida's mistake--if she had never heard the Hildegarde
story--there might have crept into her girlish fancy, young though she
was, the thought that this was the love written for her in the stars.
But like a flash came the recollection of old Hildgardmar's warning:
"_And many youths will come to thee, each begging, 'Give me the royal
mantle, Hildegarde. I am the prince the stars have destined for thee!'_"
And then his words of blessing:
"_Because even in childhood days thou ever kept in view the sterling
yardstick as I bade thee, because no single strand of all the golden
warp that Clotho gave thee was squandered on another, because thou
waitedst till thy woman's fingers wrought the best that lay within thy
woman's heart, all happiness shall now be thine._"
"Please, Lloyd," he asked again, in a low, earnest tone.
"I--I can't, Malcolm," she stammered, giving the nut she had chosen a
sudden blow that completely smashed it.
"Why not? You gave Rob the clover to carry in _his_ watch."
"That was different. Rob doesn't care for the clovah on my account. He
carries it for the good luck it brings; not because I gave it to him."
"But he'll get to caring after awhile," said Malcolm, moodily. "He
couldn't help it. Nobody could who knew you, and I don't want him to."
Then, after a long pause in which Lloyd attended so strictly to her
nut-cracking that she did not even glance in his direction, he asked,
jealously: "Would you give _him_ the curl if he asked for it?"
Something in his tone made Lloyd look up with a provoking little smile.
"No," she answered, "not even the snippiest little snip of a hair, if he
asked for it the way you are doing, and wanted it to mean what you
do--that he was my--my chosen knight, you know."
"Is there _anybody_ you would give it to, Lloyd?"
His persistence only made her shake her head the more obstinately. It
did not take much teasing to arouse what Mom Beck called "the Lloyd
stubbo'ness."
"No! I tell you! And if you keep on talking that way I'm going home!"
"Why won't you let me talk that way? This is the last time I'll see you
until next summer, and I'm dreadfully in earnest, Lloyd. You don't know
how much it means to me. Don't you care for me at all?"
A dozen things came crowding up to her lips in answer. She wanted to
tell him the story of Hildegarde's weaving and old Hildgardmar's
warning. She wanted to say that she could not trifle with the happiness
that was written for her in the stars by giving away even a strand of
Clotho's golden thread before she was old enough to choose wisely the
one on whom to bestow such a favour. But she knew that he would not
understand these allusions to a story of which he had never heard.
She did not know how to put into words the vague, undefined feeling that
she had, that he must not come to her with such speeches until he had
won his spurs and received his accolade. It was her helplessness to
answer as she wished that made her spring up impatiently and say in her
most imperious, Little Colonel-like way, "Didn't you heah me tell you to
stop talking that way, Malcolm Maclntyre? Of co'se I care for you. I've
always liked you, and I think you're one of the nicest boys I know, but
I won't if you keep on that way when I tell you to stop. You might at
least wait till you come back from college and let me see what sawt of a
man you've turned out to be!"
"I'll be whatever you want me to be, Lloyd," he began, but just then the
mistletoe gatherers came running down the path toward them, and Ranald's
whistle brought the others from the churchyard with their bittersweet.
Lloyd flung away her nut-shells, and standing on the top of the stile
brushed her dress with her handkerchief. Malcolm, swinging his gun to
his shoulder, picked up her basket and walked beside her in conscious
silence, as the merry party strolled on toward the depot.
Several times she glanced up shyly at him, saying to herself again that
he was certainly one of the nicest boys she knew, the most courteous,
the most attractive, with the same beauty of face and polish of manner
that had made him such a winning little Knight of Kentucky. But the
little pin he had worn as the badge of that knighthood, that stood for
the "wearing the white flower of a blameless life," was no longer on the
lapel of his coat. He had laid it aside more than a year ago, saying
that he had outgrown that child's play, and that it was impossible for a
fellow of his age to live up to it.
As Lloyd noticed its absence she was glad that she had answered him as
she did. But almost with the same breath came the recollection that he
had said, "I'll be whatever you want me to be, Lloyd," and she wondered
with a quicker heart-throb if it were really so that she had power to
wield such an influence over him, and she wondered also, if she had
given him the curl as he asked, and told him that she wanted him to wear
the white flower again and live up to its meaning, if he would have done
it for her sake.
Keith rushed on ahead to see if the man had brought their suit-cases
down to the waiting-room, and the others crossed over to the store for
some hot pop-corn. There were several holly wreaths hanging in the
window, and although Lloyd knew that a number of them had already been
sent out to Locust from town, she could not resist the temptation of
buying the largest one there, it was so unusually bright and full of
berries. They had barely reached the waiting-room again when the train
came thundering along the track.
With hasty good-byes the three boys hurried up the steps. Keith and Rob
hung on to the railing on the platform of the rear car, swinging their
caps and calling back various messages about Christmas and next week and
after the holidays, but Malcolm, after one long look into the Little
Colonel's eyes, turned and went into the car. He wanted to carry away
with him undisturbed the picture she made as she stood there on the
platform, waving her handkerchief. She was all in dark blue, her fair
hair blowing in the wind, her cheeks a delicate wild rose pink. At her
feet was the basket of Christmas greens, and on her arm hung the glowing
wreath of Christmas holly.
* * * * *
It was the last night of the old year. Watch-night, Mom Beck called it,
and as soon as dinner was over she and Aunt Cindy and Alec hurried away
to Brier Creek Church, where the coloured people were to hold services
till midnight, watching the old year out and the new year in.
It had been a busy week for Lloyd and Betty. The happiest of Christmas
Days had been followed by neighbourhood parties, entertainments, and
merrymakings of all descriptions. The old Southern mansion rang with
many gay young voices, and overflowed with life, for there were guests
within its hospitable gates from morning until night.
But now a lull had come in the festivities. The last guest had departed
on the evening train, and ten o'clock found the house strangely still.
The servants were all out. Betty, locked in her room, busy with
embroidery silks, was finishing a little New Year's gift with which to
surprise her godmother on the morrow. Mrs. Sherman had gone up-stairs to
sit with the old Colonel awhile. She had not been able to give him much
of her time since their return to Locust, and to-night, with the waning
year, he seemed to want her to himself to talk to him of his "long, long
ago," and listen to his tales of old days which grew dearer with each
passing holiday season.
Only Lloyd and her father were left in the long drawing-room. She had
begged to be allowed to keep Watch-night with him.
"It's only two houahs moah, mothah," she said, beseechingly. "I'll sleep
late in the mawning to make up for it. I've scarcely seen Papa Jack
since we came home, and he's going away so soon again. Besides, I nevah
did sit up to watch a new yeah come in."
So she had her way, and, sitting on a low stool at his feet, with his
hand softly stroking her hair, they talked of many things.
He began in a teasing, playful way, "You haven't told me what you
learned at boarding-school, Little Colonel. You must have absorbed a
vast amount of knowledge, when even your nights were passed in such a
learned institution."
The face she turned toward him was a very serious one, for the time had
come for confession. Yet after all confession did not seem as hard as
she had thought it would be. The very touch of his hand on her hair made
it easier, it was so kind and sympathetic. She had always gone to him
with all her childish troubles as freely as she had to her mother.
Presently she had poured out the whole story, her part in the
clandestine correspondence, Edwardo's coming to Locust, her struggle in
that very room to be loyal to the family honour and her father's trust
in her.
Allison's Christmas present to her had been an autograph copy of the
story of "The Three Weavers." It was bound in water-colour paper, tied
in the rose and gold ribbons of the Order, and bore on the cover a
design of Allison's own painting, a filmy spider-web held by a row of
golden stars. Lloyd showed it to him as she told of the forming of the
Order of Hildegarde to take the place of the old Shadow Club, and then,
spreading the book open across his knee, read it aloud--the little tale
which was destined to play such an important part in her life, and which
already had influenced her far more than she was aware.
When she had finished she sat idly turning the leaves and gazing into
the fire. "You see," she said, presently, "this is a story for fathahs
and mothahs, too, and--and--I want you to give me my yah'dstick, Papa
Jack."
As she glanced up at him with a roguish smile dimpling her face, she was
astonished to see tears in his eyes. He had been very silent while she
read the story.
"My precious little Hildegarde!" he exclaimed, drawing her to his knee
and folding his arms around her. She laid her head on his shoulder, and
he began: "I don't suppose you can understand how I feel about it,
Lloyd. It breaks me all up to think that my Little Colonel is near
enough grown to come to me with such a request. If I could have my way I
would be selfish enough to want to keep you a little girl always. I
hate to think that a time can ever come when any one may ask to take you
from me. But, Lloyd darling, it takes all the sting out of that thought
to know that you are willing to come to me so freely with your
questions--to know that there is such perfect confidence between us that
you do not feel the embarrassment that most girls feel in talking with
their fathers on such a subject. Let me think a moment, for I want to
answer as wisely as old Hildgardmar did, if that be possible."
It was a long time before he spoke again. Then he said, slowly, "There
are only three notches on the yardstick which I am going to give you,
Lloyd. The prince who comes asking for you must have, first, a clean
life. There must be no wild oats sowed through its past for my little
girl to help reap, for no man ever gathers such a harvest alone. Next,
he must be honourable in every way which that good old word implies. The
man who is that will not ask anything clandestine, nor will he ask to
take you from a comfortable home before he is able to provide one for
you himself. Then, if he would measure up to the third notch, he must be
strong. Strong in character, in purpose, and endeavour. There are many
things that I might ask for my only child, many things that I would
gladly choose for her if the choice were left to me: family, position,
wealth--but they are nothing when weighed in the balance with the love
of an honest man. If his life be clean and honourable and strong, then
choose as you will, my blessing shall go with you!"
Instantly there flashed into Lloyd's thoughts the recollection of a
boyish figure standing beside the old stile, and she wondered how far he
would measure up to that standard. Clean in life and habit? He had
always seemed so, but a little doubt disturbed her as she thought of the
white flower he no longer wore, and what he had said about it. Strong in
purpose and in effort? It was too soon to tell. He was only a boy with
all his uncertain future before him, with all the temptations of his
college days still unmet and unconquered.
As she felt her father's protecting arm around her, she nestled closer
in that safe, sure shelter, and sat considering what he had said. Once
she glanced up at the portrait over the mantel, and met the gaze of the
beautiful eyes of the young girl beside the harp--Amanthis, who had made
no mistake in her choosing, whose girlish romance had bloomed as sweetly
as the June roses that she wore.
Presently Lloyd's arm stole up around her father's neck, and she softly
repeated the words of Hildegarde's promise:
"'_You may trust me, fathah. I will not cut the golden warp from out the
loom until I, a woman grown, have woven such a web as thou thyself shalt
say is worthy of a prince's wearing!_'"
"Dear child," he answered, huskily, "you have crowned not only this year
for me, but all the years, with that promise. God grant that you may
find all happiness written for you in His stars!"
The candles were burning low in their silver sconces now. The fire on
the hearth was only a mass of glowing embers, and as the clock ticked on
toward midnight, they sat in happy silence, awaiting the dawn of the
untried new year.
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.
=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 story-book 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."
_BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE_
=PHYLLIS' FIELD FRIENDS SERIES=
By _LENORE E. MULETS_
Six vols., cloth decorative, illustrated by Sophie Schneider. Sold
separately, or as a set.
Per volume $1.00
Per set 6.00
=Insect Stories.=
=Stories of Little Animals.=
=Flower Stories.=
=Bird Stories.=
=Tree Stories.=
=Stories of Little Fishes.=
In this series of six little Nature books, it is the author's intention
so to present to the child reader the facts about each particular
flower, insect, bird, or animal, in story form, as to make delightful
reading. Classical legends, myths, poems, and songs are so introduced as
to correlate fully with these lessons, to which the excellent
illustrations are no little help.
=THE WOODRANGER TALES=
By _G. WALDO BROWNE_
=The Woodranger.=
=The Young Gunbearer.=
=The Hero of the Hills.=
=With Rogers' Rangers.=
Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover, illustrated,
per volume $1.25
Four vols., boxed, per set 5.00
"The Woodranger Tales," like the "Pathfinder Tales" of J. Fenimore
Cooper, combine historical information relating to early pioneer days in
America with interesting adventures in the backwoods. Although the same
characters are continued throughout the series, each book is complete in
itself, and, while based strictly on historical facts, is an interesting
and exciting tale of adventure.
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=
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 Ramee)_
=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.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Page 265, "Hie" changed to "His" (His broad clear brow)