CHAPTER I THE ORANGE SILK OVER-BLOUSE "This doesn't look like the street I came up through!" exclaimed Betty Gordon. "These funny streets, with their dear old-fashioned houses, all seem, so much alike! And if there are any names stuck up at the corners they must hide around behind the post when I come by like squirrels in the woods. "I declare, there is a queer little shop stuck right in there between two of those refined-looking, if... more...

CHAPTER I UNDER A CLOUD "Hey, boy! What's your name?" "Bob Chester." "Where are you going with that basket of groceries?" "To deliver an order to one of my guardian's customers." "Are you honest?" "I hope so, sir," replied Bob, his face expressing surprise that his probity should be questioned. The man who had hailed Bob Chester appeared to be about twenty-five years old, and his clothes were well-fitting, giving him the air of a man of... more...

OFF TO CANADA "Hey there, Pud. Come here," yelled Bill Williams one day late in May to Pud Jones, as the latter sauntered across the athletic field. "I'm coming," said Pud, as he rushed across, and grabbing Bill by the shoulders slammed him up against the fence around the track. "What do you think this is?" asked Bill. "A football game, or do you take me for a tackling dummy?" "Well, some kind of a dummy," replied Pud, as he held Bill so... more...

LITTLE BOY BLUE Little Boy Blue was not his real name. Oh, no! His real name was Richard Snow. But his mother always called him "Little Boy Blue." His father called him "Boy Blue," too. Every one called him "Little Boy Blue," and so I will. Boy Blue's eyes were as blue as the sky on a summer day. When he was a baby he always wore a blue ribbon in his hair. When he was five years old he wore a blue blouse and a blue cap. Now he wears a... more...

FOREWORD The story contained herein was written by Charles Dickens in 1867. It is the third of four stories entitled "Holiday Romance" and was published originally in a children's magazine in America. It purports to be written by a child aged nine. It was republished in England in "All the Year Round" in 1868. For this and four other Christmas pieces Dickens received £1,000. "Holiday Romance" was published in book form by Messrs Chapman... more...

THE McGREGORS "Carl!" "Coming, Ma!" Mrs. McGregor waited a moment. "But you aren't coming," protested she fretfully. "You never seem to come when you're wanted. Drat the child! Where is he? Carl!" "Yes, Ma." "Yes, Ma! Yes, Ma!" the woman mimicked impatiently. "It's easy enough to shout Yes, Ma; but where are you—that's what I want to know. You're the slowest creature on God's earth, I believe. A tortoise would be a race horse compared... more...

“Chicken Little! Chick-en Lit-tle!” The three little girls in the fence corner looked up but no one responded. “Chicken Little Jane!” The voice was a trifle more insistent. The little girl in the blue gingham dress and white frilled pinafore looked at her small hostess reproachfully. “Why don’t you answer, Jane?” “’Cause I’ll have to go in. She’ll think I don’t hear if I... more...

PIPPA. All the year in the little village of Asola the great wheels of the mills went round and round. It seemed to the very little children that they never, never stopped, but went on turning and singing, turning and singing. No matter where you went in the village, the hum of the wheels could always be heard; and though no one could really say what the wheels sang, everyone turned gladly to his work or went swiftly on his errand when he... more...

A MUSICAL EVENING. This is a very pleasant way of spending a winter evening, and my young friends like it much. All young folks should learn music.     THE LITTLE COOKS. Lucy and Jane are fond of playing at cooks, and seem very busy this morning. Lucy is standing on a stool stirring something in a pot, and Jane is watching the cups on the little stove. I hope the children will not burn themselves, nor make a mess on the... more...

Chapter One. The blue waters of the British Channel sparkled brightly in the rays of the sun, shining forth from a cloudless sky, as a light breeze from the northward filled the sails of a small yacht which glided smoothly along the southern coast of England. At the helm of the little vessel stood her owner, Captain Maynard, a retired naval officer. Next to his fair young daughter, Clara, the old sailor looked upon his yacht as one of the most... more...