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قراءة كتاب Just Sixteen.
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JUST SIXTEEN.
BY
,
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1890.
By Roberts Brothers.
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
PAGE | |
---|---|
A Little Knight of Labor (Two Illustrations) | 7 |
Snowy Peter | 63 |
The Do Something Society | 80 |
Who ate the Queen's Luncheon? (Illustration) | 92 |
The Shipwrecked Cologne-Bottle | 110 |
Under a Syringa-Bush | 126 |
Two Girls—Two Parties | 137 |
The Pink Sweetmeat | 154 |
Etelka's Choice (Illustration) | 177 |
The Fir Cones | 204 |
A Balsam Pillow | 217 |
Colonel Wheeler | 229 |
Ninety-three and Ninety-four | 238 |
The Sorrows of Felicia | 258 |
Imprisoned | 271 |
A Child of the Sea Folk | 282 |
JUST SIXTEEN.
A LITTLE KNIGHT OF LABOR.
THE first real snow-storm of the winter had come to Sandyport by the Sea.
It had been a late and merciful autumn. Till well into November the leaves still clung to their boughs, honeysuckles made shady coverts on trellises, and put forth now and then an orange and milk-white blossom full of frosty sweetness; the grass was still green where the snow allowed it to be seen. Thick and fast fell the wind-blown flakes on the lightly frozen ground. The patter and beat of the flying storm was a joyous sound to children who owned sleds and had been waiting the chance to use them. Many a boy's face looked out as the dusk fell, to make sure that the storm continued; and many a bright voice cried, "Hurrah! It's coming down harder than ever! To-morrow it will be splendid!" Stable-men were shaking out fur robes and arranging cutters. Already the fitful sound of sleigh-bells could be heard; and all the world—the world of Sandyport that is—was preparing to give the in-coming winter a gay welcome.
But in one house in an old-fashioned but still respectable street no one seemed inclined to join in the general merry-making. Only two lights broke its darkness: one shone from the kitchen at the back, where, beside a kerosene lamp, Bethia Kendrick, the old-time servitor of the Talcott family, was gloomily darning stockings, and otherwise making ready for departure on the morrow. The other and fainter glow came from the front room, where without any lamp Georgie Talcott sat alone beside her fire.
It was a little fire, and built of rather queer materials. There were bits of lath and box-covers, fence-pickets split in two, shavings, pasteboard clippings, and on top of all, half of an old chopping-bowl. The light material burned out fast, and had to be continually replenished from the basket which stood on one side the grate.
Georgie, in fact, was burning up the odds and ends of her old life before leaving it