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All Aboard: A Story for Girls

All Aboard: A Story for Girls

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of All Aboard, by Fannie E. Newberry

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: All Aboard A Story for Girls

Author: Fannie E. Newberry

Release Date: August 7, 2006 [EBook #19001]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL ABOARD ***

Produced by Al Haines

ALL ABOARD

A STORY FOR GIRLS

BY FANNIE E. NEWBERRY

Author of "The Odd One," "Not for Profit," "Bubbles," "Joyce's Investments," "Sara a Princess," etc., etc.

  "Our Faith, a star, shone o'er a rocky height;
  The billows rose, and she was quenched in night."

NEW YORK:

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.

COPYRIGHT, 1898.

By A. I. BRADLEY & CO

IN MEMORY

OF A HAPPY VISIT,
LET ME DEDICATE TO YOU, MY COUSINS
H. S. AND W. FASSETT,
THIS LITTLE BOOK
WITH MY AFFECTIONATE REGARDS

CONTENTS.

CHAP.

     I. Debby has a Caller
    II. The Leave-taking
   III. New Surroundings
    IV. Introductions
     V. "On the Bay of Biscay, O!"
    VI. Portuguese Towns and Heroes
   VII. Kite-flying and Gibraltar
  VIII. Nightmare and Gossip
    IX. A Game of Gromets
     X. Mrs. Windemere's Dinner
    XI. A Sunday at Sea
   XII. The Story of a Wreck
  XIII. Algiers and Andy
   XIV. Guesswork
    XV. Tropical Evenings
   XVI. Danger
  XVII. Lady Moreham Speaks
 XVIII. Last Days Together
   XIX. Old Ties and New
    XX. In Old Bombay
   XXI. Friends Ashore
  XXII. In Elephanta's Caves

"ALL ABOARD!"

CHAPTER I.

DEBBY HAS A CALLER.

"And they're twins, you say?"

"Yes'm, two of 'em, and as putty as twin blooms on a stalk, 'm."

The second speaker was a large, corpulent woman, with a voluminous white apron tied about her voluminous waist. She stood deferentially before the prospective roomer who had asked the question, to whom she was showing the accommodations of her house, with interpolations of a private nature, on a subject too near her heart, to-day, to be ignored even with strangers. As she stood nodding her head with an emphasis that threatened to dislodge the smart cap with purple ribbons, which she had rather hastily assumed when summoned to the door, the caller mentally decided that here was a good soul, indeed, but rather loquacious to be the sole guardian of two girls "putty as twin blooms."

She, herself, was tall and slender, and wore her rich street costume with an easy elegance, as if fine clothing were too much a matter of course to excite her interest. But upon her face were lines which showed that, at some time, she had looked long and deeply into the hollow eyes of trouble, possibly despair. Even the smile now curving her well-turned lips lacked the joyousness of youth, though in years she seemed well on the sunny side of early middle age. She was evidently in no hurry this morning, and finding her possible landlady so ready to talk, bent an attentive ear that was most flattering to the good creature.

"I knew," she said, sinking into a rattan chair tied up with blue ribbons, like an over-dressed baby, "that these rooms had an air which suggested youth and beauty. I don't wonder your heart is sore to lose them."

"Ah, it's broke it is, 'm!" the voice breaking in sympathy, "for I've looked upon 'em as my own, entirely, and it's nigh to eighteen year, now. Their mother, just a slip of a girl herself, 'm, had only time for a long look at her babbies before she begun to sink, and when she see, herself, 'twas the end, she whispered, 'Debby'—I was right over her, 'm, leaving the babbies to anybody, for little they were to me then, beside the dear young mistress—so she says, says she, 'Debby!' and I says, very soft-like, 'Yes, Miss Helen,'—'cause, mind you, I'd been her maid afore she was merrit at all, and I allays forgot when I wasn't thinkin', and give her the old name—and I says, 'Yes, Miss Helen?' And then she smiles up at me just as bright as on her wellest days, 'm, and says, 'Call 'em Faith and Hope,' Debby; that's what they would be to me if—and not rightly onderstandin' of her, I breaks in, 'Faith and Hope? Call what faith and hope?' For, thinkses I, 'she may be luny with the fever.' But no, she says faint-like, but clear and sound as a bell, 'Call my babies so. Let their names be Faith and Hope, and when their poor father comes home, say it was my wish, and he must not grieve too much, for he will have Faith and Hope always with him.' And then the poor dear sinks off again and never rightly comes to, till she's clean gone."

"And their father was on a voyage, then?"

"Yes 'm, second mate of the 'International.' He's cap'n now, 'm, with an interest in the steamship, and they do say they ain't many that's so dreadfully much finer in the big P. & O. lines—leastwise so I've heerd tell, 'm, and I guess they ain't no mistake about it, nuther."

"And you have mothered his babies all these years?"

"I have, 'm, yes. In course when it come time for their schoolin' I had to let 'em go. 'Twas then Cap'n Hosmer was going to give up this house, 'cause 'twa'n't no use a-keepin' it while they was off, but thet made me put my wits to work, and I planned a plan as I ain't seen fit to find no fault with to this day. I ups and merries John Gunter, what's been a-hangin' around a year or more, and I says, 'We'll take the house off your hands, Cap'n. I've made up a notion to keep lodgers, and then that'll give my girls a place to come to, and git fed up, a holidays—don't you see, sir? And at that he laughs and says, says he—for he's a man what's sound and sweet clear through, like a hard cabbage, 'm, no rotten nowhere—and he says: 'A good plan, Debby, and I'll rent your two best rooms for my daughters now, and pay a year in advance,' and so 'twas done, 'm. And so's went the last five year, them a-coming and going, jest like the sunshine in Aprile, but now—"

Again the always husky voice broke, and the white apron was turned into a handkerchief for the nonce.

"Now you are going to lose them, you say?"

"Yes'm. They're to ship with their father for the long cruise—that is, I s'pose I oughter say they're a-goin with him on the long v'yage to Ingy."

"I presume he gets lonely for them too, poor man!"

"In course he do, 'm—I sees thet plain—and I can't really say a word, only—hist! I believes it's 'em, now. If that ain't my Miss Hope's rush through the hall then I'll—"

An unmistakable breeze and clatter, in which fresh young voices could be plainly

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