Evelyn Raymond

Evelyn Raymond
Evelyn Raymond was an American author known for her prolific output in the early 20th century, focusing primarily on adventure and historical fiction for young readers. She wrote numerous novels and short stories, often featuring strong female protagonists and settings that ranged from the American frontier to Europe. Raymond's works were well-received during her lifetime, contributing to the rich tapestry of literature aimed at young adults in the early 1900s.

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CHAPTER I. AS THE SUN WENT DOWN. With gloom in his heart, Black Partridge strode homeward along the beach path. The glory of a brilliant August sunset crimsoned the tops of the sandhills on the west and the waters of the broad lake on the east; but if the preoccupied Indian observed this at all, it was to see in it an omen of impending tragedy. Red was the color of blood, and he foresaw that blood must... more...

CHAPTER I THE END OF AN INFAIR Dorothy sat up in bed and looked about her. For a moment she did not realize where she was nor how she came to be in such a strange and charming room. Then from somewhere in the distance sounded a merry, musical voice, singing:“Old Noah of old he built an ark—One more river to cross!He built it out of hickory bark—One more riv——” The refrain was never... more...

The One Room House It was in “the littlest house in Ne’ York” that Glory lived, with grandpa and Bo’sn, the dog, so she, and its owner, often boasted; and whether this were actually true or not, it certainly was so small that no other sort of tenant than the blind captain could have bestowed himself, his grandchild, and their few belongings in it. A piece-of-pie shaped room, built to utilize a... more...

CHAPTER I ON THE TRAIN “Maryland, my Maryland!” dreamily hummed Dorothy Calvert. “Not only your Maryland, but mine,” was the resolute response of the boy beside her. Dorothy turned on him in surprise. “Why, Jim Barlow, I thought nothing could shake your allegiance to old New York state; you’ve told me so yourself dozens of times, and—” “I know, Dorothy; I’ve thought so myself, but... more...

CHAPTER I A BIG GIFT FOR A SMALL MAID. “Well, of all things!” exclaimed Mrs. Betty Calvert, shaking her white head and tossing her hands in a gesture of amazement. Then, as the letter she had held fell to the floor, her dark eyes twinkled with amusement and she smilingly demanded: “Dorothy, do you want an elephant?” The girl had been reading her own letters, just come in the morning’s mail,... more...

CHAPTER I THE STORM “Margot! Margot!” Mother Angelique’s anxious call rang out over the water, once, twice, many times. But, though she shaded her brows with her hands and strained her keen ears to listen, there was no one visible and no response came back to her. So she climbed the hill again and, reëntering the cabin, began to stir with almost vicious energy the contents of a pot swinging in... more...

CHAPTER I. AT BELLEVIEU. “Dorothy!” called Jim as he quickly searched the garden at Bellevieu for her. “Yes,” answered Dorothy, “I am here sitting under the big oak tree.” “I have something for you,” cried Jim. “Guess what?” “Guess what?” echoed Dorothy. “Well it might be—Oh! there are so many, many things it could be.” “Here, take it. Its only a letter from New York,... more...

CHAPTER I SAILING DOWN THE HUDSON “All aboard—what’s goin’! All ashore—what ain’t!” The stentorian shout of the colored steward, so close to Dorothy’s ear, made her jump aside with a little scream. Then as she saw that the boat hands were about to draw the gang plank back to the steamer’s deck, she gave another little cry and fairly pushed Alfaretta toward it. “Never mind hugging me... more...

CHAPTER I. THE WAY IT BEGAN. Nobody except Miss Lucy Armacost would have thought of starting an orphan asylum with one orphan. Even she might not have done it but for Molly Johns. As for Molly, she never dreamed of such a thing. She was just careering down the avenue one windy afternoon in early December, upon one roller skate, and Miss Lucy was just coming up the block, walking rather unsteadily upon... more...

CHAPTER I ON THE ROAD TO OAK KNOWE “This way for the Queen!” “Here you are for the Duke of Connaught! Right this way!” “Want the Metropole, Miss?” “Room there, stupid! She’s from the States—any fool could see that! I’m from your hotel, little lady, the American. Your luggage, Miss, allow me?” If Dorothy’s hands hadn’t been too full, she would have clapped them over her ears,... more...

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