CHAPTER XVII

THE BLAZE OF GLORY

“There are two ways of doing it!” said Mrs. Damian. “There is the dark lantern, hole-and-corner way, and there is the Blaze of Glory.”

Miss Folly looked up inquiringly. She seldom spoke when a look sufficed.

“We can pack the child up at the Pension,” Mrs. Damian continued, “sneak off in a cab to the station, leaving a trail of tears and sniffs behind us, and depart as if we were all going to the penitentiary together; or we can give her a Party and a Send-off, and go--as I said--in a Blaze of Glory. What do you say?”

“If I were the child, I should prefer the dark lantern,” said Miss Folly thoughtfully.

“Of course you would!” Mrs. Damian swooped like a hawk. “You have not red hair; and you are a mouse. A trained and intelligent mouse--_no!_ I have it! You are a mongoose, Folly. Exactly! There is _no_ difference. ‘The Wild Ass and the Mongoose, an Indian Fable.’ What is the plural of mongoose?”

“Mongooses!” replied Miss Folly promptly.

“Right! My former Affliction--I should say companion--would persist in saying ‘mongeese.’ I corrected her seventeen times; the eighteenth time I threw a sofa-pillow at her, and she left. Egypt was glad at her departing. As I was saying, Mongoose, you have not red hair, nor the dramatic temperament. This child has both. Therefore I decide on the Blaze of Glory. Bring pencil and paper, and we will make a list of the fireworks.”

* * * * *

So it came to pass that the day after the final examinations, when the girls were packing their trunks and exchanging last tokens and protestations of affection, they were told that they were all invited to the Hotel Royal, to spend the evening with Mrs. Damian.

“And with Honor, naturally!” said Soeur Séraphine. “Our Moriole has already gone to join her venerable relative. Mrs. Damian most kindly sends carriages for us at a quarter before seven o’clock precisely; be ready, my children!”

Honor had gone an hour before, after a talk with Madame Madeleine which she was to remember as long as she lived. The dear lady might have been parting with her own child, so tender was she, so full of affectionate solicitude. She repeated again and again her injunctions; to be good, to be happy; to think sometimes of the friends who loved her.

“Happy?” said poor Honor. “I will try to be good, dear Madame; I will be cheerful, because I have promised; but--happy? I shall never be happy again; never, never, never!”

She burst into wild weeping. Madame Madeleine watched her for a little in silence, letting the tears take their way. Then she rose, and opening a drawer of her little escritoire--they were sitting in her own room, to which we were admitted only on special occasions--took out a small object.

“Dry thy tears, my child!” she said, in her grave, kind voice. “I have something to show thee!”

It was a miniature-case that she held in her hand. She opened it, and Honor, wiping her swollen eyes, bent to look. A girl smiled at her; a girl older than herself, yet still in the freshness of youth: joyous, frank, beautiful as a flower, the eyes alight with happiness, the perfect mouth trembling to a smile.

“Oh!” cried Honor. “Oh, how lovely! how exquisite! Who is it, Madame?”

“It is my sister!” said Madame gravely. “It is Soeur Séraphine, whom you see every day and all day long, Honor.”

Honor looked again.

“I see it is!” Her voice was full of awe. “Of course it is! But--oh, Madame! What--what happened to our Sister?”

Madame Madeleine paused, as if communing with herself.

“Why not?” she said finally. “It may help! Listen, Honor! This was my sister Marie Séraphine at eighteen; that is, so much of her as could be caught and fixed in color. Of herself, the spirit of gayety and mirth that she was, it gives but the shadow. She was betrothed, to a man whom she tenderly loved; a man of whom one can but say that he seemed sent to earth to show what man could be. They were happy; they were to be married, from this very house, where then my beloved husband was still with me. A week before the wedding day--”

The kind voice faltered a moment; then went quietly on,

“The two young people were in Paris, visiting friends. A great Bazaar was being held for charity, in a certain chapel. They--they went--” the voice broke.

“Oh, madame! I know! I have heard--That terrible fire! So many lives lost--Oh! they were not there?”

Madame bowed her head.

“When the flames broke out, they were near a window. By God’s mercy, he--René--was able to break the window, and thrust my sister out into the street. Another woman, and yet another, he rescued; then--the crowd found him; they clung to him, they dragged him--he fell back--”

Honor covered her face with her hands, shuddering.

Madame Madeleine was silent for a few moments; then she went on.

“It is not to agonize thee, my child, that I tell this sad tale. Listen still! At first, my sister prayed for death, as one prays for the morning. God did not send her that relief. Then she sought the religious life, and found therein a measure of peace. Time and work and prayer scarfed over the wound that never could wholly heal. For some years she continued in this, till the convent was broken up; then she came to me.

“That is the story, my Moriole, of my sister’s life. I do not often speak of it. I tell it to thee, that thou may’st know what real sorrow is, and how it may be borne. Take this knowledge with thee, my child, and may it prove profitable to thee!”

She kissed Honor’s forehead gravely, then made a little gesture of dismissal, and turned to replace the miniature.

Creeping away with bowed head and beating heart, Honor met Soeur Séraphine coming along the corridor with her light, swift tread. At sight of her, the Sister’s face, tranquil and beautiful, broke into its lovely smile, and Honor started, it was so like the pictured face that had smiled at her a moment; so like, yet--ah, how different!

“_Tiens!_” said Soeur Séraphine. “My little Moriole, I was seeking thee. The hour approaches, and thy toilette is not yet made. Thou hast been weeping, my child. I could well weep too, at losing thee, but the smile is the better fashion, see’st thou! As Monsieur thy father observed, ‘Bokope,’ my Moriole! Come then, and I will tie thy ribbon for thee!”

* * * * *

“First,” said Mrs. Damian, “we will inspect the tokens.”

“The tokens?” repeated Honor, slightly bewildered; Mrs. Damian was in one of her most swooping moods, and had already taken her breath away twice.

“Of affection!” replied the lady. “Tokens of affection; souvenirs; gimcracks; anything you choose to call them. This way, my dear!”

She led the way into a little boudoir, which seemed to be furnished largely with tissue paper and parcels, and motioned Honor toward a table on which lay a number of small objects. Honor bent over them in wonder and delight. Nine heart-shaped lockets of rock-crystal, each containing a tiny likeness of herself. Beside them, a larger print of her in a silver frame.

“Oh! how lovely!” cried Honor, clasping her hands. “How _perfectly_ lovely! Are they--do they--”

“They are for your schoolmates, naturally. You said there were nine of them? ‘Nine homesick puppies, in nine vehicles, straying sadly down the road to Peking.’[2] Quotation; contains a buried city. H’m! Well! Yes. The large one is for the two good ladies, who do not wear gimcracks. Well? Are you pleased?”

[2] Mrs. Hugh Fraser.

“But I am enchanted! They are exquisite. And all the girls have been begging me for my picture. But when were they taken, my aunt?”

“Folly snapped her kodak at you, the day of the race, and had the print enlarged. I found the lockets at Interlaken. Now you know as much as I do. Glad you like them!”

“And--oh! and my hair looks dark!” cried Honor. “It really does!”

“Yes, that is the only trouble with the likeness. Red hair should be powdered before photographing, or it looks perfectly black.”

“Oh, if it only were!” cried poor Honor. “I have always longed so for dark hair, madame. In America--would it be wicked if I blacked it, my aunt? It is wicked in Switzerland, our Sister says.”

“It would be idiotic,” said Mrs. Damian, “which is more to the point. Don’t be an idiot, child, whatever else you are. Look! Here is your dressing-case. Like it?”

But here Honor became speechless. Darkest green morocco, lined with satin, fitted with brushes, combs, and innumerable bottles, all in warm-white ivory, all marked--H.B. What could fourteen-year-old Honor say at sight of this marvel? She could only gasp, and clasp her hands together. It was some minutes before she managed to stammer out,

“I am combled! I am altogether combled, madame! What generosity, what goodness!”

“You like it?” repeated Mrs. Damian, watching her with evident pleasure.

“I have dreamed of such a thing!” said Honor. “I never thought to see one. Can it possibly be actually mine, madame?”

“It not only can, but is. Nobody else would want it, you see, with your initials on it.”

“I thank you! Oh, I thank you a hundred thousand times, for the beautiful, beautiful things, but, ah, how much more for your kindness! It enlarges me the heart! I--I--” Honor faltered.

“_Don’t cry!_ If you cry, I’ll break all the bottles. Here! take these chains and put the lockets on them!” Mrs. Damian held out a box containing a number of slender gold chains. “When the girls come, you may put them round their necks and make a pretty speech to each one. I have no time for pretty speeches. H’m! Folly, how about the emeralds? Pretty, with the white frock and the hair, eh?”

“Pretty, but very unsuitable!” said Miss Folly briefly.

“True! though I don’t know what business it is of yours. No ornaments at all, eh? Much better so! Put the diamond stars in my cap, will you? _Some one_ must dress up a little; if you say much more, Mongoose, I’ll make you wear the emeralds yourself, and a pretty sight you’d be!”

Honor privately thought that Miss Folly needed nothing more to make her a pretty sight. In her simple dark blue dress, with the fichu of soft net and the old-fashioned topaz brooch, she was pretty enough, in all conscience. She seemed never in the least discomposed by Mrs. Damian’s abrupt speeches. She smiled now and went away, presumably to arrange the diamonds.

“H’m!” said Mrs. Damian. “Sit down, my dear. Don’t fidget! Your friends will be here soon. The last party I gave--let me see! Was it in Russia? After the last one I gave there, I remember, the servants ate up all the candles. But--no! the very last one was in Africa, in the Great Desert. My dear! would you like to hear about it? Fold your hands in your lap--lightly! Don’t clasp them. I am not Grand Opera. And don’t turn in your toes! So! We were quite a caravan, and there had been a sandstorm which came very near being the final party for all of us--h’m! yes! Well--so when we got to the nearest oasis and found we were all alive, it seemed proper to celebrate. You see?”

Mrs. Damian swooped; Honor blinked and caught her breath, then nodded eagerly.

“I see, my aunt! Continue, I pray you!”

“We ranged the camels and horses in a circle; after watering them, naturally. The mats were spread, and the Mohammedans said their prayers: well, I said mine too, only without demonstration. I am too old to show you how a Moslem prays; he kneels, tumbles forward on his forehead, then back on his heels. Very singular! I’d make Folly do it for you, but she has scruples.” This, as Miss Folly entered with the cap. “Thanks, Folly! Put it on for me, will you? Straight, please! None of your piratical rakishness! I believe you are a Buccaneer in disguise! Well, we supped on fresh dates, locusts and wild honey--I felt like John the Baptist--I had a garment of camel’s hair, too, though probably different from his-- What is it, my dear? Keep your eyes in your head; they look better there.”

“Pardon me, my aunt! But--locusts? Really?”

“Really! fried in olive oil; crisp, and not at all bad. The Sheik could not eat with us, we being Infidels, but he sent us coffee, and was very friendly. Indeed, he offered to buy me. I was too old for a wife, he said, but he liked my talk, and thought I would do for a mother. I never was so flattered in my life; but my Professor decided to keep me. We had water that night to wash in; a small pitcherful, but still water, a great luxury. For a week we had washed in sand. But yes, certainly!” at Honor’s exclamation of amazement. “It is often so in the desert, where there isn’t water enough to drink. Sand is efficacious, but gritty. Ah! here come our friends.”

The girls entered on the stroke of seven, blushing and twittering, shepherded by Soeur Séraphine in her gray dress and spotless coif.

“She looks like a Princess of the Blood!” murmured Mrs. Damian. “Learn to hold yourself like that, Honor, and your hair may be red or green or piebald, it will not matter. Good evening, my Sister! I am delighted to see you. Young ladies, you are very welcome.”

Mrs. Damian’s French was that of one who to a natural gift has added fifty years of practice; nevertheless, she spoke English now, having divined with her lightning instinct that the Sister’s one little heavenly vanity was her English.

“Ze plaisir--pardon!--ze plaisure is teetotally to oz, madame! Be’old oz gazzered as von ’eart, von speerit, von sentiment, to greet you and our beloved young friend. Honor, all to thee, my little one! My children, _English_!”

The last words were a swift aside to the girls, and brought comfort or disaster, according to one’s nationality. All very well for Patricia and Maria, though the latter could only mumble, not having the gift of tongues, scarcely even of her own. Vivette enunciated neatly her “Good evening, Mrs. and Miss. ’Ow do you carry yourself?” and passed on, swelling visibly with modest pride. Rose Marie and most of the others escaped with a polite murmur which might have been English or Choctaw. But poor Stephanie! she had hoped to escape speech altogether by keeping well behind the Sister’s ample robes. English was to her an “apoplexy of a language,” and she rather made a point of not knowing any. But now little Loulou, who had spoken very nicely, and who had her own idea of what was proper, gave a shrewd pinch to Stephanie’s arm, at the very instant when Soeur Séraphine, extending a firm hand, drew her inexorably forward into full view.

“Aie! goodnight!” shrieked Stephanie, bobbing a distracted courtesy.

The girls tittered; Soeur Séraphine flushed. Mrs. Damian’s lips twitched for a moment, but she rose to the occasion.

“I am glad to see you, my dear!” she said cordially. “You are Stephanie Langolles, I think? You are to sit next Honor at supper. And there is the bell this minute!” she added. “Let us come in without ceremony; Honor, lead the way with the Sister, will you?”

Honor would never acknowledge that the Feast of Departure surpassed the _Fête de Retour_ at the Pension, but Soeur Séraphine declared she had never seen anything so charming. Mrs. Damian nodded, well pleased. It was a feast of birds, she explained; of orioles, as nearly as Miss Folly could make it with crêpe paper and black pins. Beside each plate stood a little black and orange bird, holding a card in his bill. The soup was in swan-shaped cups, the long necks curving to form the handles.

“It should be birds’ nest soup, of course,” said the hostess, “but there were no nests in the market.”

The potato balls that accompanied the roast duck were bird-shaped, too, golden-brown ducklings, with peppercorn eyes. And when it came to the dessert--oh! oh! could it be possible? Who ever saw a mother hen of strawberry ice-cream, with pink and white chickens clustering round her? Long before this point was reached, the girls’ tongues were loosened, and they were chattering like a flock of sparrows.

When it came to “second helps,” Mrs. Damian nodded to Honor, who slipped quietly out and returned, bringing the “tokens.” She went round the table, with a kiss and a murmured word for each girl as she clasped the chain round her neck. Her eyes were bright with tears, but she would not let them fall. Mrs. Damian watched her keenly, and nodded to herself well pleased. The child was thoroughbred; no danger of a scene!

As the girls burst into exclamations of wonder and delight, Honor slipped out again, in obedience to a signal from Miss Folly, who without a word led her into the tissue-paper room. On the bed lay a traveling costume of russet wool, tasteful and simple; beside it the prettiest of hats to match. Gloves, belt, shoes of russet suède; nothing was wanting.

“Dress yourself quickly,” said Miss Folly. “I must go and help Mrs. Damian. _Don’t stop to think!_ Time for that afterwards. You have twenty minutes!”

She vanished. Honor never could remember how she got through those twenty minutes. She only knew that before they were over, she was ready, and stood trembling in every limb, unable, it seemed to her, to speak or move. The door opened; there stood Mrs. Damian, Miss Folly behind her, both dressed for traveling.

“Good!” said Mrs. Damian. “You will make a traveler! Come!”

She took Honor’s hand in her firm, cool grasp, and led her back to the dining room. The girls were deep in the mysteries of costume crackers, putting on paper caps and bonnets, shrieking with laughter. At sight of the three, they sprang up in amazement.

“Oh!” cried Stephanie. “Oh, Moriole! No! no! It cannot be. You do not leave us!”

“Hush!” Mrs. Damian’s tone was kindly, but final. “No tears or tantrums! Nothing of the sort. The Sister will explain all. Kiss her, and say good-by!”

All their mirth gone in a moment, the girls flocked round Honor, with tears, embraces, broken words of affection.

“Don’t forget me, little thing!” whispered Patricia. “You’ve done a lot for me, though you don’t know it. _Au revoir_ in New York some day!”

“Moriole,” cried Stephanie, “my heart breaks! I perish!”

“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Damian.

“Compose thyself, my child!” said Soeur Séraphine. “This is the inevitable, to which we must bow. Adieu, Honor! The good God be with thee, little beloved one!”

“Adieu! Adieu, Moriole! Do not forget us! Come back to us!”

They were all at the door now, clustering like bees, waving hands and handkerchiefs. Looking back for the last time, Honor saw Soeur Séraphine’s face, with its heavenly smile of patience and kindness. She smiled back bravely; the carriage started, rolled swiftly on.

What followed was all like a dream. The station agleam with lights; the train standing panting in slow, regular breaths, ready for the start; the guard’s cry, “In the carriage, gentlemen and ladies, if you please!”; the smiling porter who took possession of them and their belongings, even the precious dressing-bag, to which Honor would fain have clung. Here it was, though, a moment later, in this little fairy-like cabin with its two white berths, one above the other.

“Folly prefers the upper berth,” said Mrs. Damian. “I can’t imagine why, unless from mongoosiness. Good night, child! Sleep well! Remember, the train will say _anything you want it to say_. Try ‘good luck’!”

What _was_ the train saying? Lying in the white berth, her brain still throbbing, her heart still beating fast, Honor tried to listen, tried to fit words to the rhythmic sound.

“Good luck! good luck!” That did not quite fit. “Clank-clank--good luck! clank--clank--buck up!”

Good-by, ah, good-by!

“On the Alp the grass is sweetest, Li-u-o, my Queen!”

That went better, but still--

The locomotive found its stride; the train settled into a smooth rhythmic movement, which steadily, insensibly, straightened out the twisted nerves, quieted the throbbing brain, soothed, lulled, comforted.

“Tumpty tum, tumpty tum, Tumpty, tumpty, tumpty tum!”

And as sleep came softly stealing, drawing her veil of quietness over the tired child, she murmured, half awake, half in slumber, the old, old words:

“Four corners to my bed, Four angels round my head, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Bless the bed that I lie on!”

THE END

Selections from The Page Company’s Books for Young People

THE BLUE BONNET SERIES

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

A TEXAS BLUE BONNET

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS.

“The book’s heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness.”--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._

BLUE BONNET’S RANCH PARTY

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.

“A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter.”--_Boston Transcript._

BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.

“It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its many human touches.”--_Boston Globe._

BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE

By CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.

“It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens.”--_New York Sun._

BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet.

BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS

By LELA HORN RICHARDS.

“The author’s intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader an interesting story of the heroine’s war activities.”--_Pittsburgh Leader._

THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES

By HARRISON ADAMS

_Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS.

“Such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among the young Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer ancestors and the early days of the Republic.”--_Boston Globe._

THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS.

“The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only interesting but instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character which these days of self-reliance and trial produced.”--_American Tourist, Chicago._

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS.

“The story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure.”--_New York Sun._

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX.

“Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations, true to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for boys.”--_Watchman Examiner, New York City._

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE; OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS.

“There is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well told.”--_Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn._

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST.

“The story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable historical information.”--_Boston Herald._

THE HADLEY HALL SERIES

By LOUISE M. BREITENBACH

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

ALMA AT HADLEY HALL

“The author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing book for girls.”--_Detroit Free Press._

ALMA’S SOPHOMORE YEAR

“It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls’ books.”--_Boston Herald._

ALMA’S JUNIOR YEAR

“The diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn, the incidents are well developed and the action is never dull.”--_The Boston Herald._

ALMA’S SENIOR YEAR

“A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter.”--_Boston Transcript._

THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES

By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE

“A book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems to understand perfectly the girl character.”--_Boston Globe._

PEGGY RAYMOND’S VACATION

“It is a wholesome, hearty story.”--_Utica Observer._

PEGGY RAYMOND’S SCHOOL DAYS

The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting incidents.

THE FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE

These four lively girls found their opportunities to serve their country. The story of their adventures will bring anew to every girl who reads about them the realisation of what she owes to her country.

FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES

By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $2.00

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS

“More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way.”--_New York Sun._

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS

“Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these famous Indians with the whites for the possession of America is a worthy addition to United States History.”--_New York Marine Journal._

FAMOUS SCOUTS

“It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys and young men.”--_New London Day._

FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA

“The tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force.”--_Pittsburgh Post._

FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER

“The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual adventure.”--_Cleveland Leader._

FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA

“The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and bravest adventures of which the world has known.”--_Brooklyn Daily Eagle._

FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory.

“The pages of this book have the charm of romance without its unreality. The book illuminates, with life-like portraits, the history of the World War.”--_Rochester Post Express._

HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES

By LAURA E. RICHARDS

Eleven Volumes

The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with “Queen Hildegarde” and ending with “The Merryweathers,” make one of the best and most popular series of books for girls ever written.

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

_The eleven volumes boxed as a set_ $18.15

LIST OF TITLES

QUEEN HILDEGARDE HILDEGARDE’S HOLIDAY HILDEGARDE’S HOME HILDEGARDE’S NEIGHBORS HILDEGARDE’S HARVEST THREE MARGARETS MARGARET MONTFORT PEGGY RITA FERNLEY HOUSE THE MERRYWEATHERS

THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES

By LAURA E. RICHARDS

_Each one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ 75 cents

CAPTAIN JANUARY

A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been very remarkable.

SAME. _Illustrated Holiday Edition_ $1.35

MELODY: THE STORY OF A CHILD.

MARIE

A companion to “Melody” and “Captain January.”

ROSIN THE BEAU

A sequel to “Melody” and “Marie.”

SNOW-WHITE; OR, THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.

JIM OF HELLAS; OR, IN DURANCE VILE, and a companion story, BETHESDA POOL.

NARCISSA

And a companion story, IN VERONA, being two delightful short stories of New England life.

“SOME SAY”

And a companion story, NEIGHBORS IN CYRUS.

NAUTILUS

“‘Nautilus’ is by far the best product of the author’s powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so richly merits.”

ISLA HERON

This interesting story is written in the author’s usual charming manner.

THE LITTLE MASTER

“A well told, interesting tale of a high character.”--_California Gateway Gazette._

DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLE FOLKS

By LAURA E. RICHARDS

THREE MINUTE STORIES

Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color and many text illustrations $1.50

“Little ones will understand and delight in the stories and poems.”--_Indianapolis News._

FIVE MINUTE STORIES

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.50 A charming collection of short stories and clever poems for children.

MORE FIVE MINUTE STORIES

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.50

A noteworthy collection of short stories and poems for children, which will prove as popular with mothers as with boys and girls.

FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.50

The story of their lives and other wonderful things related by the Man in the Moon, done in the vernacular from the lunacular form by Laura E. Richards.

A NEW BOOK FOR GIRLS

By LAURA E. RICHARDS

HONOR BRIGHT

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75

No girl ever deserved more to have a series of stories written about her than does HONOR BRIGHT, the newest heroine of a talented author who has created many charming girls. Born of American parents who die in the far East, Honor spends her school days at the Pension Madeline in Vevey, Switzerland, surrounded by playmates of half a dozen nationalities. As are all of Mrs. Richards’ heroines, HONOR BRIGHT is the highest type of the young girl of America, with all the independence of character which is American to the core in young as in old.

THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES

By BURTON E. STEVENSON

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLEN WEST.

“The whole range of section railroading is covered in the story.”--_Chicago Post._

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER

“A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad life.”--_Congregationalist._

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER

“It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn.”--_Passaic News._

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, ALLAN WEST’S CHUM.

“The story is intensely interesting.”--_Baltimore Sun._

BOY SCOUT STORIES

By BREWER CORCORAN

_Published with the approval of “The Boy Scouts of America.”_

_Each, one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

THE BOY SCOUTS OF KENDALLVILLE

The story of a bright young factory worker who cannot enlist because he has three dependents, but his knowledge of woodcraft and wig-wagging, gained through Scout practice, enables him to foil a German plot to blow up the munitions factory.

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE WOLF PATROL

The boys of Gillfield who were not old enough to go to war found just as many thrills at home, chasing a German spy.

THE CARITA SERIES

By LUCY M. BLANCHARD

_Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated_ $1.65

CARITA, AND HOW SHE BECAME A PATRIOTIC AMERICAN

“One of the strongest points of the book is the fact that its characters seem to be real people, doing the things that real people do. More than that, they are wholesome, worth-while folks whose companionship inspires a sane and pleasing view of life.”--_Salt Lake Tribune, Salt Lake City._

CARITA’S NEW WORLD

“Wholesome and altogether fascinating; all this can be truly said of all of Miss Blanchard’s stories for girls. ‘Carita’s New World’ has both of these characteristics.”--_Troy Record, Troy, N. Y._

“There is a fine originality about Carita that will make her adorable to all girls.”--_Oakland Tribune._

THE MERRYMAKERS SERIES

By HERSCHEL WILLIAMS

_Each, one volume, 12mo, illustrated_ $1.65

THE MERRYMAKERS IN NEW YORK

“The book is bright and clever and gives an excellent picture of our great metropolis. One can in his imagination see New York most entertainingly through the eyes of the young Merrymakers.”--_St. Andrew’s Cross, Philadelphia._

THE MERRYMAKERS IN CHICAGO

The Merrymakers who had such a splendid Christmas vacation in New York, enjoy another rollicking good time,--a summer vacation in Chicago. While brother Ned, the young newspaper reporter, “covers” the Republican national convention in Chicago, Carl, the oldest of the four sightseeing Merrymakers, decides that he wants to own a department store some day, and incidentally learns all the steps he must take from being an errand boy to a merchant magnate.

IDEAL BOOKS FOR GIRLS

_Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo_ $1.00

A LITTLE CANDY BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By AMY L. WATERMAN.

“This is a peculiarly interesting little book, written in the simple, vivacious style that makes these little manuals as delightful to read as they are instructive.”--_Nashville Tennessean and American._

A LITTLE COOK-BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON.

This book explains how to cook so simply that no one can fail to understand every word, even a complete novice.

A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON.

A little girl, home from school on Saturday mornings, finds out how to make helpful use of her spare time, and also how to take proper pride and pleasure in good housework.

A LITTLE SEWING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By LOUISE FRANCES CORNELL.

“It is comprehensive and practical, and yet revealingly instructive. It takes a little girl who lives alone with her mother, and shows how her mother taught her the art of sewing in its various branches. The illustrations aid materially.”--_Wilmington Every Evening._

A LITTLE PRESERVING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By AMY L. WATERMAN.

In simple, clear wording, Mrs. Waterman explains every step of the process of preserving or “canning” fruits and vegetables.

A LITTLE GARDENING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL By PETER MARTIN.

This little volume is an excellent guide for the young gardener. In addition to truck gardening, the book gives valuable information on flowers, the planning of the garden, selection of varieties, etc.

THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS

(Trade Mark)

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_ $1.75

THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES (Trade Mark)

Being three “Little Colonel” stories in the Cosy Corner Series, “The little Colonel,” “Two Little Knights of Kentucky,” and “The Giant Scissors,” in a single volume.

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOUSE PARTY (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOLIDAYS (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HERO (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING-SCHOOL (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHRISTMAS VACATION (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL’S KNIGHT COMES RIDING (Trade Mark) THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHUM, MARY WARE (Trade Mark) MARY WARE IN TEXAS MARY WARE’S PROMISED LAND

_These twelve volumes, boxed as a set_, $18.00.

SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS

_Each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume_ $1.50

New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in color, and many marginal sketches.

THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark) TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY THE GIANT SCISSORS BIG BROTHER

THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES

_Each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece and decorative text borders, per volume_ $0.75

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.

THE THREE WEAVERS: A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS.

KEEPING TRYST: A TALE OF KING ARTHUR’S TIME.

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART

THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG.

THE JESTER’S SWORD

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S GOOD TIMES BOOK

Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $1.75 Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold $5.00

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.

“A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good times she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were of Annie Fellows Johnston.”--_Buffalo Express._

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK--First Series

Quarto, boards, printed in colors $1.75

A series of “Little Colonel” dolls. Each has several changes of costume, so they can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series.

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK--Second Series

Quarto, boards, printed in colors $1.75

An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only lovable Mary Ware, the Little Colonel’s chum, but many another of the much loved characters which appear in the last three volumes of the famous “Little Colonel Series.”

THE STORY OF THE RED CROSS: as Told to the Little Colonel

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.00

This story originally appeared in “The Little Colonel’s Hero,” but the publishers decided to issue it as a separate volume.

“No one could tell the story of the Red Cross with more vividness and enthusiasm than this author, and here she is at her best. No book published during the Great War is more valuable and timely than this appealing story of the beginning of the Red Cross.”--_New York Tribune._

“It deserves a place in every school as well as in every home where the work of the Red Cross is appreciated.”--_Evening Express, Portland, Me._

“Not only VERY interesting, but has large educational value.”--_Lookout, Cincinnati, Ohio._

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.75

“The book is a very clever handling of the greatest event in the history of the world.”--_Rochester, N. Y., Herald._

THE SANDMAN SERIES

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.65

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS

THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES.

“Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this book a treasure.”--_Cleveland Leader._

THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES.

“Children will call for these stories over and over again.”--_Chicago Evening Post._

THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES.

“Little ones will understand and delight in the stories and their parents will read between the lines and recognise the poetic and artistic work of the author.”--_Indianapolis News._

THE SANDMAN: HIS SEA STORIES.

“Once upon a time there was a man who knew little children and the kind of stories they liked, so he wrote four books of Sandman’s stories, all about the farm or the sea, and the brig _Industry_, and this book is one of them.”--_Canadian Congregationalist._

By JENNY WALLIS

THE SANDMAN: HIS SONGS AND RHYMES.

“Here is a fine collection of poems for mothers and friends to use at the twilight hour. They are not of the soporific kind especially. They are wholesome reading when most wide-awake and of such a soothing and delicious flavor that they are welcome when the lights are low.”--_Christian Intelligence._

Transcriber’s Note:

Punctuation has been standardised. Spelling, hyphenation, accents, and, on page 234, “isnt” for “isn’t” have been retained as in the original publication.