Juvenile Fiction Books

DEDICATION. Si doulce la Margarite. When I first saw you—never mind the year—you could speak no English, and when next I saw you, after a lapse of two years, you would prattle no French; when again we met, you were the nymph with bright and flowing hair, which frightened his Highness Prince James out of his feline senses, when, as you came in by the door, he made his bolt by the window. It was then... more...

MRS. HARDY’S RESOLUTION. WHAT are you thinking of, Frank?’ Mrs. Hardy asked her husband one evening, after an unusually long silence on his part. ‘Well, my dear, I was thinking of a good many things. In the first place, I think, I began with wondering what I should make of the boys; and that led to such a train of thoughts about ourselves and our circumstances, that I hardly knew where I was when... more...

CHAPTER I ALF AND HIS "MAKINGS OF MANHOOD" "Say, got the makings?" "Eh?" inquired Tom Reade, glancing up in mild astonishment. "Got the makings?" persisted the thin dough-faced lad of fourteen who had come into the tent. "I believe we have the makings for supper, if you mean that you're hungry," Tom rejoined. "But you've just had your dinner."... more...

The Alarm. Whitewing was a Red Indian of the North American prairies. Though not a chief of the highest standing, he was a very great man in the estimation of his tribe, for, besides being possessed of qualities which are highly esteemed among all savages—such as courage, strength, agility, and the like—he was a deep thinker, and held speculative views in regard to the Great Manitou (God), as well... more...

Chapter I. "What I want, you know," said Mr. Tulliver of Dorlcote Mill—"what I want is to give Tom a good eddication. That was what I was thinking of when I gave notice for him to leave th' academy at Lady Day. I meant to put him to a downright good school at Midsummer. "The two years at th' academy 'ud ha' done well enough," the miller went on, "if... more...

CHAPTER I "Santa Claus brought them," said Sunny Boy. He was lying flat on the floor, trying to reach under the bookcase where his marble had rolled. The marble was a cannon ball and Sunny Boy had been showing Nelson Baker, the boy who lived next door, how to knock over lead soldiers. Nelson Baker picked up the lead general and examined him carefully. "They're nicer soldiers than I had... 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...

Chapter One. There was a loud rattling noise, as if money was being shaken up in a box. A loud crashing bang, as if someone had banged the box down on a table. A rap, as if a knife had been dropped. Then somebody, in a petulant voice full of vexation and irritability, roared out: “Bother!” And that’s exactly how it was, leaving Aleck Donne, who looked about sixteen or seventeen, scratching... more...

CHAPTER I WHERE, OH, WHERE? Field day was past and gone and the senior class of Central High, Centerport’s largest and most popular school, was thinking of little but white dresses, bouquets, and blue-ribboned diplomas. The group of juniors, however, who had made the school’s athletic record for the year in the Girls’ Branch Athletic League, had other matters to discuss—and in their opinion... more...

CHAPTER I A DELIGHTFUL MYSTERY "I think we are ready to start, girls." Miss Elting folded the road map that she had been studying and placed it in a pocket of her long dust coat. There was a half-smile on her face, a merry twinkle in her eyes. "Which way do I drive?" questioned Jane McCarthy. "Straight ahead out of the village," answered Miss Elting, the guardian of the party of... more...