CHAPTER I. "Kate," said Aunt Deborah to me as we sat with our feet on the fender one rainy afternoon—or, as we were in London, I should say one rainy morning—in June, "I think altogether, considering the weather and what not, it would be as well for you to give up this Ascot expedition, my dear." I own I felt more than half inclined to cry—most girls would have cried—but Aunt Deborah says I am very unlike the generality... more...

CHAPTER I. THE MESSAGE. o you think Katie Haydon is pretty—I don't?" and the speaker glanced at her own bright curls as she spoke. "Well, I don't know whether she is exactly pretty, but she always looks nice, and then she is so pleasant and merry, and——" "And so vain and stuck-up," put in the first speaker again. "Oh, how can you say so?" said another, a plain, quiet-looking girl, who had not spoken before. "Mother says... more...

A NEW DEPARTURE. "But, mother, it isn't as if I were going away from home, like the Lloyd girls; you might have a right to cry if that were the case." "I know, dear; it's all right, and I ought to be very thankful; but I'm a foolish woman. I can't bear to think of my little girl, whom I have guarded so tenderly, going among all those girls and men, and fighting her way in life." "I don't think I shall be much of a fighter," laughed Katie,... more...

CHAPTER I I am in love. It is the most scrumptious thing I have ever been in. Perfectly magnificent! Every time I think of it I feel as if I were going down an elevator forty floors and my heart flippity-flops so my teeth mortify me. He used to be engaged to Elizabeth Hamilton Carter, the niece of the lady at whose house I am boarding this summer, but he did something he ought not to have done, or he didn't do something he ought to have done,... more...

CHAPTER I LISBETH LONGFROCK GOES TO HOEL FARM Bearhunter, the big, shaggy old dog at Hoel Farm, sat on the stone step in front of the house, looking soberly around the spacious dooryard. It was a clear, cold winter's day toward the beginning of spring, and the sun shone brightly over the glittering snow. In spite of the bright sunshine, however, Bearhunter would have liked to be indoors much better than out, if his sense of responsibility had... more...

GEORGE WASHINGTON. I believe I will tell you the story of Grandma Parlin's little childhood, as nearly as possible in the way I have heard her tell it herself to Flyaway Clifford. Well, then, Grandma Parlin, her face full of wrinkles, lay in bed under a red and green patchwork quilt, with her day-cap on. That is, the one who was going to be Grandma Parlin some time in the far-off future. She wouldn't have believed it of herself now if you... more...

CHAPTER I. MOTHER BUNCH. There was once a wonderful fortnight in little Lucy's life. One evening she went to bed very tired and cross and hot, and in the morning when she looked at her arms and legs they were all covered with red spots, rather pretty to look at, only they were dry and prickly. Nurse was frightened when she looked at them. She turned all the little sisters out of the night nursery, covered Lucy up close, and ordered her not to... more...

PRUDY'S PATCHWORK I am going to tell you something about a little girl who was always saying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble. Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three years older, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summer they went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother. At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six years old, and Prudy was between three and... more...

CHAPTER I THE INTERRUPTED STORY A girl in a green gown was cosily ensconced among the spreading branches of an old apple tree. She was reading, and she never stirred except to turn the pages of her book or to reach out for another red apple after dropping the core of the previous one. It was a glorious morning in early September, and the old Virginia orchard was sweet with the odor of ripening apples. A press under a tree still dripped with... more...

A LATE ARRIVAL IT was a particularly hot day in early July. A girl came out on the back porch of an old-fashioned New England house and dropped into a hammock. She looked tired, but her big black eyes were eager with interest. She held a fat letter in her hand which contained many pages. At the top of the letter was a pen-and-ink drawing of a miniature houseboat with five girls running about on the deck, their hair blowing, their skirts awry.... more...