CHAPTER I INTRODUCING THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS "If I'm not mistaken," said Calvin Parks, "this is the ro'd where Sam and Sim used to live!" He checked his horse and looked about him. "And there—well, I'm blowed if that ain't the house now. Same old pumpkin-color; same old well-sweep; same old trees; it certinly is the house. Well!" He looked earnestly at the house, which seemed to give him a friendly look in return; a large,... more...

THE SILVER CROWN   "And shall I be a king?" asked the child, "and shall I wear a crown?" "You shall surely wear a crown," said the Angel, "and a kingdom is waiting for you." "Oh, joy!" said the child. "But tell me, how will it come about? for now I am only a little child, and the crown would hardly stay on my curls." "Nay! that I may not tell," said the Angel. "Only ride and run your best, for the way is long to your kingdom, and the... more...

THE GREEN SATIN GOWN Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us be cosy. I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never told... more...

CHAPTER I. Melody, My Dear Child: I   SIT down to write my story for you, the life-story of old Rosin the Beau, your friend and true lover. Some day, not far distant now, my fiddle and I shall be laid away, in the quiet spot you know and love; and then (for you will miss me, Melody, well I know that!) this writing will be read to you, and you will hear my voice still, and will learn to know me better even than you do now; though that... more...

CHAPTER I. HILDEGARDIS GRAHAM. "And have you decided what is to become of Hilda?" asked Mrs. Graham. "Hilda?" replied her husband, in a tone of surprise, "Hilda? why, she will go with us, of course. What else should become of the child? She will enjoy the trip immensely, I have no doubt." Mrs. Graham sighed and shook her head. "I fear that is impossible, dear George!" she said. "To tell the truth, I am a little anxious about Hilda; she is not... more...

CHAPTER I. THE BOY JOHN. The boy John was sitting on the wharf, watching the ebb of the tide. The current was swift, for there had been heavy rains within a few days; the river was full of drifting logs, bits of bark, odds and ends of various kinds; the water, usually so blue, looked brown and thick. It swirled round the great mossy piers, making eddies between them; from time to time the boy dropped bits of paper into these eddies, and saw... more...

CHAPTER I. THE CHILD. "Well, there!" said Miss Vesta. "The child has a wonderful gift, that is certain. Just listen to her, Rejoice! You never heard our canary sing like that!" Miss Vesta put back the shutters as she spoke, and let a flood of light into the room where Miss Rejoice lay. The window was open, and Melody's voice came in like a wave of sound, filling the room with sweetness and life and joy. "It's like the foreign birds they tell... more...

CHAPTER I. MARIE. Marie was tired. She had been walking nearly the whole day, and now the sun was low in the west, and long level rays of yellow light were spreading over the country, striking the windows of a farmhouse here and there into sudden flame, or resting more softly on tree-tops and hanging slopes. They were like fiddle-bows, Marie thought; and at the thought she held closer something that she carried in her arms, and murmured over it... more...

CHAPTER I. THE ARRIVAL. "Mamma," said Hildegarde Grahame, flying into her mother's room,"I have news for you, thrilling news! Guess what it is!" Mrs. Grahame looked up from her sewing. "The house is on fire," she said, quietly, "or you have found a Royal Walnut Moth; or, possibly, Hugh has developed wings and flown away. None of these things would greatly surprise me; but in the first case I must take action, while in either of the others I... more...

THE MORNING MAIL. Hildegarde was walking home from the village, whither she had gone to get the mail. She usually rode the three miles on her bicycle, but she had met a tack on the road the day before, and must now wait a day or two till the injured tire could be mended. Save for missing the sensation of flying, which she found one of the most delightful things in the world, she was hardly sorry to have the walk. One could not see so much from... more...