Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I OFF FOR A SLEIGH-RIDE “What is the matter, Dave? You look rather mystified.” “I am mystified, Laura,” replied Dave Porter. “I have a letter here that I can’t understand at all.” “Whom is it from?” questioned Laura Porter, as she came closer to her brother, who was ensconced in the largest easy-chair the Wadsworth library contained. “It’s from a shopkeeper in Coburntown,... more...

CHAPTER I. THE FIRST SMOKE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. While Miss Cardigan went with her nephew to the door, I remained standing by the fire, which could have witnessed to so much done around it that night. I felt strong, but I remember my cheeks had an odd sensation as if the blood had left them. I did not know Miss Cardigan had come back, till I saw her standing beside me and looking at me anxiously.... more...

CHAPTER I. Philip Ogilvie and his pretty wife were quarrelling, as their custom was, in the drawing-room of the great house in Belgrave Square, but the Angel in the nursery upstairs knew nothing at all about that. She was eight years old, and was, at that critical moment when her father and mother were having words which might embitter all their lives, and perhaps sever them for ever, unconsciously and... more...

A NEW GAME "Mother, what can we do now?" "Tell us something to play, please! We want to have some fun!" As Harry and Mabel Blake said this they walked slowly up the path toward the front porch, on which their mother was sitting one early Spring day. The two children did not look very happy. "What can we do?" asked Hal, as he was called more often than Harry. "There... more...

Chapter One. “Heigh-Ho-Ha-Hum! Oh dear me!” “What’s matter, sir?” “Matter, Dirty Dick? Nothing; only, heigh-ho-ha! Oh dear me, how sleepy I am!” “Well, sir, I wouldn’t open my mouth like that ’ere, ’fore the sun’s up.” “Why not?” “No knowing what you might swallow off this here nasty, cold, foggy, stony coast.” “There you go again, Dick; not so good as Lincolnshire... more...

CHAPTER I A STRANGE MESSAGE Behind locked and barred doors, surrounded by numberless mysterious-looking instruments, sat Curlie Carson. To the right of him was a narrow window. Through that window, a dizzy depth below, lay the city. Its square, flat roofs formed a mammoth checker-board. Between the squares criss-crossed the narrow black streets. Like a white chalk-line, drawn by a careless child, the... more...

The Old Stone House ulm rock was a wild place. You might search the coast for miles and not find another bit of nature so bare and rent and ragged as this. So fiercely had the storms driven over it, so wildly had the wind and waves beat, that the few cedars which once flourished as its only bit of greenness were long ago dead, and now held up only bleached and ragged hands. Jutting out into the sea,... more...

In the West Countree. “Derry down, derry down, derry down!” A cheery voice rolling out the chorus of an old west-country ditty. Then there was a run of a few yards, a sudden stoppage, and a round, red missile was thrown with considerable force after a blackcock, which rose on whirring wings from among the heather, his violet-black plumage glistening in the autumn sun, as he skimmed over the moor,... more...

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OLD BILLY. The summer at Marbury had begun. On the 20th of June, after seeing the Europe-bound party off for New York, the Ward children had arrived, bag and baggage, under Auntie Jean's escort. Early the first morning after their arrival, Cricket awoke Eunice with a punch. "Eunice, what do you think I am going to do to-day? and I'm going to do it every day till I succeed."... more...