The Golden Circle A Mystery Story for Girls

The Grand Opera house became a veritable fairyland of adventure for Petite Jeanne. In this place and in her own little theatre she felt herself to be in a place of refuge. There...

He had, he assured her, nothing of importance to say. “And that,” she told herself now, “means no letter. And yet, he may have forgotten. Ah, well, we’ll hope. And I shall not g...

Even as the young Italian spoke, there came a knock at the door. With a little cry of fear, Petite Jeanne threw a small Persian rug over her treasured god; then, as if prepared...

As Petite Jeanne entered her dressing room she found a diminutive figure hidden away in a corner. At sight of the little French girl this person sprang to her feet with a cry of...

The unexpected visitor was a short, stout man with a large hooked nose. So completely engulfed was he in a great raccoon coat, that on first sight not one of them recognized him...

Weston’s prophesy that the trunks contained “only junk” proved to be true. As trunk after trunk was opened, their search for hidden treasure continued to be unrewarded. Always t...

Happy days followed. Petite Jeanne, whose circle of true friends in this great world had been pitiably small, found her horizon greatly enlarged. Truly the day of adventures in...

Angelo had a few well chosen friends in the world of stage people. As soon as offices were open the next morning, his card was presented to one of these. An hour later, with a b...

They entered the theatre together at four o’clock that afternoon, Angelo, Dan Baker and Petite Jeanne. It was a damp, chilly, autumn day. Jeanne had caught the mood of the day b...

During all these busy days Petite Jeanne did not entirely lose track of her friend Merry of the smiling Irish eyes. Being endowed with a particularly friendly nature, she was mo...

The auctioneer, a large, bald man with a warming smile, climbed to the platform and announced the terms of the sale. “Goods,” he explained, “are sold as is. No complaints will b...

When she thrust a foot through the open window, Jeanne felt some solid object beneath her and was thankful. But scarcely had she thrown the full weight of her body on that objec...

They had just alighted from a Halsted Street car and had entered the maze of booths, carts, rough board counters, and wagons. “This is Maxwell Street on a bright Sunday afternoo...

Her glorious Golden Circle; this is what the fellow members of her cast were coming to be. How different was the atmosphere of this new setting from that of the old Blackmoore.

“These people surely did kidnap me. But, oh, for a very good reason!” Petite Jeanne placed her palms against one another and held them up as a child does in a good-night prayer.

No fairy princess, waving magic wand, could have wrought a more perfect change than came over Petite Jeanne and her beloved companions after that hour which the rather ugly Jew...

In the meantime a passing stranger, who had witnessed from a distance Florence’s struggle with the two men before the theatre door, and had arrived on the scene too late to be o...

Even to Merry, who had never before visited her friends on Peoria Street just off Maxwell Street, the shop of Weston was something of a shock. It was nothing more than a hollow...

Many times, as they journeyed homeward that night, Petite Jeanne cast apprehensive glances over her shoulder. More than once, as some object appeared to move in the darkness, sh...

No one blamed Petite Jeanne for the part she had played. Being endowed with tender and kindly souls, they one and all felt that under the same conditions they would have acted i...

It was with a critical eye that Petite Jeanne studied her strange companions as they marched away across the park toward the nearest row of shops where a lunch counter might be...

“I must go!” she whispered to herself as, lying flat upon the iron grating, she drank in the beauty of the opera. “I surely must. Florence will miss me. There will be a fearful...

As Petite Jeanne prepared to leave her room on the following evening for her third secret visit to the old Blackmoore, where she hoped once more to dance in Jimmie’s golden circ...

“You’ll be entirely out of luck if you don’t lie right down and go to sleep!” Florence Huyler, her pal, exclaimed, making a significant gesture toward a sofa pillow which, as th...

“Well, then—” He placed his feet on the ground, then prodded the sod with his cane. “Once I was in the Catskill Mountains—or was it the Cascades? I disremember.”

The sun was still sleeping peacefully beneath the lake when she arrived at the grove of broad, spreading willows. Off to the east huge clouds like ghosts in dark robes were rush...

Gypsy camp fires were indeed dispelling dark shadows of a fading day in the heart of a forest glade when the truck bearing Merry’s “Golden Circle” arrived at the scene of the en...

Unfortunate for those who awaited him was the mood of Drysdale, the director, on that particular morning. Perhaps he had not slept well. His breakfast may have been overdone, or...

“Who knows?” Jimmie spread his arms excitedly. “Who can tell? She’s been carried off, I tell you! Devil’s got her, like as not. Never did like that Fire God thing; gypsies and d...

But what of Petite Jeanne? Had she, arriving at the door, missed her companion and gone back into the building? Or, over-anxious for Florence’s safety, had she, too, gone into t...

It was high noon of her great day. She had slept late. Now, as she sat sipping tea and munching toast, she thought of the past and of the future.

It was with a light tread that Petite Jeanne’s nimble feet carried her up the seven flights of stairs leading to the studio of a young playwright named Angelo. It appeared incre...

Darkness had fallen when Florence stepped from the theatre, just one week later. Rehearsal had started at five on that afternoon. Two members of the cast had found it impossible...

At eleven o’clock that morning Jeanne found herself seated beside the blue-eyed, laughing Merry in the front row of chairs of a big, bare salesroom. Before them was a long, high...

Petite Jeanne was a gifted person. She was a dancer of uncommon ability. Those who studied her closely and who were possessed of eyes that truly saw things had pronounced her a...

“Then come to the theatre. I’m going there at once. The night watchman is on till eight. He’ll let us in. Places never look the same by the light of day. We may discover some cl...