 |
With the letter in her hand, Grace entered the dining-room. She intended to show it to Emma, but the latter, who had risen early on account of some special work she wished to do, had eaten a hasty breakfast and departed. Grace slipped the letter into her blouse and made a pretense of eating breakfast. But she had lost all appetite for food. After sipping part of a cup of coffee she rose from the table and, returning to her office, opened the rest of her mail.
Under any circumstances but those of the present her letters would have delighted her. There was one from Eleanor Savelli, written from her father's villa in Italy, a long lively one from Nora, containing a breezy account of Oakdale doings, and a still longer letter from Anne. There was one from Julia Crosby, and an extremely funny note from J. Elfreda Briggs, describing a visit she had recently made to the night court.
One by one she read them, then laid them aside with an indifference born of suffering. If only there had been one for her in Tom's clear, bold handwriting. But it was useless to linger, even for a moment, over what might have been. Grace gathered up her letters and, locking them in her desk, went upstairs, with slow, dragging steps, to dress for her call upon President Morton.
It was three minutes to eleven when a slim, erect figure walked up the steps of Overton Hall. Grace wore a smartly tailored suit of white serge, white buckskin shoes, white kid gloves and a white hemp hat trimmed with curved white quills. The lining of the hat bore the name of a famous maker. She had taken a kind of melancholy pride in her toilet that morning, and the result was all that she could have wished. Unconsciously the immaculate purity of her costume bespoke the pure, high, steadfast soul which looked out from her gray eyes. As she paused at the door for a moment, her hand on the knob, she experienced something of the thrill of a martyr, about to die for a sacred cause. Then she opened the door.
For an instant she stood as though transfixed. Was she dreaming, or could she actually believe her own eyes? A sudden faintness seized her. Everything turned dark. She swayed slightly, then with a little sobbing cry of, "Fairy Godmother! Miss Wilder!" she ran straight into Mrs. Gray's outstretched arms.
That throbbing, wistful cry brought the tears to Miss Wilder's eyes, while President Morton took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. Great tears were rolling down Mrs. Gray's cheeks which she made no effort to hide. "My little girl," she said brokenly. "How dared that dreadful woman treat you so shabbily?"
It was at least ten minutes before the three women could settle down to the exchanging of questions and explanations. President Morton, the soul of old-fashioned courtesy, beamed his approval on them.
"Now my dear," said Miss Wilder at last, "I wish you to begin at the very beginning of this affair, and tell us just what has happened."
Grace began with the coming of Jean Brent to Overton and of her refusal to be frank concerning her affairs. Then she went on to the sale of her wardrobe which Jean had conducted in her absence and her final revelation of her secret to Grace after the latter had commanded it. Then she told of her promise to Jean not to betray her secret and of the summons sent them by Miss Wharton, to come to her office.
"But what was this secret, Grace?" questioned Miss Wilder gravely. "We have the right to know."
The color flooded Grace's pale face. She hesitated, then with an impulsive, "Of course you have the right to know," she went on, "Jean Brent's father and mother died when she was a child. She was brought up by an aunt who is very rich. This aunt gave her everything in the world she wanted but one thing. She would not allow Jean to go to college. She did not believe in the higher education for girls. She believed that a young girl should learn French, music and deportment at a boarding school. Then when she was graduated she must marry and settle down. One of the friends of Jean's aunt had a son who was in love with Jean. He had been babied by his mother until he had grown to be a hateful, worthless young man, and Jean despised him. Her aunt told her that she could take her choice between marrying this young man or leaving her house forever. She gave Jean a week to decide. Then she went into the country to spend a week end with this young man's mother at their country place. She thought because Jean was utterly dependent upon her that she would not dare to defy her.
"Jean had a little money of her own, so she packed her trunks while her aunt was away and went to Grafton to talk things over with Miss Lipton, who has known her since she was a baby. She was a dear friend of Jean's mother. As Jean was of age she had the right to choose her own way of life. Miss Lipton knew all about Overton College and Harlowe House, so she wrote me and applied for admission for Miss Brent. I had room for one more girl, and I considered Miss Lipton's recommendation sufficient to admit Miss Brent to Harlowe House. Naturally I was displeased when she disobeyed me and held the sale. Still I do not consider that her offense warrants dismissal."
"Miss Brent will not be expelled from college," emphasized President Morton.
"What I cannot understand is Miss Wharton's unjust attitude toward you. Surely she could readily see that you were not at fault," cried Mrs. Gray in righteous indignation.
Miss Wilder, too, shook her head in disapproval of Miss Wharton's course of action. President Morton looked stern for a moment. Then his face relaxed. He turned to Grace with a reassuring smile that told its own story.
"Miss Harlowe," he said, looking kindly at Grace, "it has always been my principle to uphold the members of the faculty in their decisions for or against a student, if these decisions are fair and just. I am convinced, however, that you have received most unjust treatment at Miss Wharton's hands. Therefore I am going to tell you in strict confidence that Miss Wharton has not filled the requirements for dean demanded by the Overton College Board. On the day I received your letter of resignation I wrote Miss Wharton, asking for her resignation at the close of the college year. I had received a letter from Miss Wilder stating that she would be able to resume her position as dean of this college next October. I had determined to send for you to inquire into your reason for wishing to resign the position you have so ably filled, when I received Miss Wilder's telegram. At her request I delayed matters until her arrival. Miss West also called at my office in your behalf. I take great pleasure in assuring you that I was prepared to accept any explanation you might make of the charges which Miss Wharton made against you and Miss Brent. In all my experience as president of this institution of learning I have never known a young woman who has carried out so faithfully the traditions of Overton College."
Grace listened to the president's words with a feeling of joy so deep as to be akin to pain. The shadow had indeed lifted. In the eyes of those whose good opinion she valued so greatly she was worthy of her trust. She never forgot that wonderful morning in President Morton's office.
When at last she left the president and Miss Wilder, to accompany Mrs. Gray back to the Tourraine, she said with shining eyes, "Dear Fairy Godmother, would you mind if we stopped at Wayne Hall. I must see Kathleen West."
"Of course you must," agreed Mrs. Gray briskly. "I should like to see her myself. My opinion of that young woman is very high."
It seemed to Grace as though she could hardly wait until their taxicab drew up in front of Wayne Hall. Mrs. Elwood herself answered the bell.
"Oh, Mrs. Elwood," cried Grace, "is Kathleen in?"
"Yes; she came in only a little while ago."
"I'll wait for you in the living room, Grace. Bring that blessed little newspaper girl down stairs with you," directed Mrs. Gray.
As Grace hurried up the stairs and down the hall to the end room the memory of another day, when she had sought Kathleen West to do her honor, returned to her. Her face shone with a great tenderness as she turned the knob and walked straight into the room without knocking. An instant and she had folded in her arms the alert little figure that sprang to meet her. "Kathleen, dear girl," she cried. "How can I ever thank you?"
"Don't try," smiled Kathleen, her black eyes looking unutterable loyalty at Grace. "I had to leave a milestone, you know, and I couldn't have left it in a better cause. I enlisted long ago under the banner of Loyalheart. So you see it was my duty to fight for her."
* * * * *
It was after three o'clock when Grace left Mrs. Gray at the Tourraine and went back to Harlowe House. At Mrs. Elwood's urgent invitation they had remained at Wayne Hall for luncheon, and with Patience added to their number had held a general rejoicing over the way things had turned out. Mrs. Gray's last words to Grace on saying good-bye to her at the hotel were, "Grace, I am coming over to see you this evening."
Grace walked home, her heart singing a song of thanksgiving and happiness. As she entered the house the maid met her with, "There's a lady to see you, Miss Harlowe. She just came."
Grace stepped into the living room. A tall, gray-haired woman of perhaps sixty, very smartly gowned, and of commanding appearance, rose to meet her. "Are you Miss Harlowe?" was her abrupt question. Then before Grace had time to do more than bow in the affirmative, she said with a brusqueness intended to hide emotion, "My name is Brent. Jean Brent is my niece. Tell me, is she with you still? I could not bring myself to ask the maid. I was afraid she might say that my niece was not here." In her anxiety, her voice trembled.
Grace's hand was stretched forth impulsively. "I am so glad," she said eagerly. "Jean needs you. She will soon be home from her classes. Would you like to go to her room?"
The woman returned Grace's hand clasp with a fervor born of emotion. She was trying to hide her agitation, but Grace could see that she was deeply stirred. Once in Jean's room she gave one curious glance about her, then sank heavily into a chair and began to cry. "I have been a stubborn, foolish woman," she sobbed. "I drove my little girl away from me because I was determined to make her marry a man whom I now know to be worthless. Oh, I am afraid she will never forgive me."
Grace was touched by the proud woman's tearful remorse, but she doubted if Jean Brent would forgive her aunt. She had spoken most bitterly against her. Grace tried to think of something comforting to say. But before she could put her thoughts into words the door was suddenly opened and Jean walked into the room. At sight of the familiar figure she turned very pale. Her blue eyes gleamed with anger. She took a step forward.
"What brought you here?" she asked tensely.
"Jean, my child, won't you forgive me?" pleaded the woman holding out her arms.
Grace waited to hear no more. But as she turned to leave the room she caught one look at Jean's face. The sudden anger in it had died out. Grace believed that all would be well, but whatever passed between aunt and niece was not for her ears. She went directly to her room to wait there until Emma came from her classes. She had so much to say to her faithful comrade.
In due season Emma appeared with a cheery, "Hello, Gracious. How is everything?"
"Everything is lovely. Emma Dean, you dear old humbug. No wonder you couldn't look sad when I talked about leaving Harlowe House. Now, confess. You were in the secret, weren't you?" Grace stood with her hands on Emma's shoulders, looking into her face.
"The Deans of whom I am which, have always been advocates of the truth," solemnly declared Emma, "therefore I will follow their illustrious example and answer 'I was.' You tied my hands and my tongue so I couldn't fight for you, Gracious, but you couldn't tie Kathleen's."
"Oh, Emma, I have so much to tell you. I hardly know where to begin. I'm so happy. It's wonderful to feel once more that I am considered worthy of my work. You and I will have many more seasons of it, together."
"I wish we might," returned Emma, but a curious wistfulness crept into her eyes that Grace failed to note.
The two friends talked on until dinner time and went downstairs together, arm in arm. After dinner Emma pleaded an engagement with Miss Duncan, Grace's former teacher of English, and left the house at a little after seven o'clock. Grace slipped into her little office and seated herself at her desk. How glad she was that all was well again. Yes, she and Emma would, indeed, spend many more seasons together. Yet, somehow, the thought of her work did not give her the same thrill of satisfaction that it once had. Try as she might she could not keep thoughts of Tom from creeping into her mind. Where was he to-night? Had he forgotten her? Mrs. Gray had not once mentioned his name to her, and she had not dared to ask for news of him. Her somber reflections were interrupted by Jean Brent and her aunt. A complete reconciliation had taken place. Miss Brent was now anxious to thank Grace for all she had done in her niece's behalf. They lingered briefly, then went on to the Hotel Tourraine, where Miss Brent had registered. They had not been gone long when the ringing of the door bell brought Grace to her feet. Mrs. Gray had arrived. She hurried to the door to open it for her Fairy Godmother. Then she drew back with a sharp exclamation. The tall, fair-haired young man who towered above her bore small resemblance to dainty little Mrs. Gray.
"Grace!" said a voice she knew only too well.
"Tom," she faltered. Then both her hands went out to him. His own strong hands closed over them. The two pairs of gray eyes met in a long level gaze.
"Come into my office, Tom." She found her voice at last. "I—I thought you were thousands of miles away in a South American jungle."
"So I was, but I didn't go very deeply into it. Professor Graham met with a serious accident and we had to turn back to civilization. He fell and hurt his spine and we had to carry him to the nearest village, two hundred miles, in a litter. Naturally that broke up the expedition, and when he became better we decided to sail for home. Reached New York City last week. I telegraphed Aunt Rose, and she wired me to meet her in Overton. I came in on that 5.30 train. Of course I was anxious to see you, so Aunt Rose told me to run along ahead. She'll be here in a little while."
Once seated opposite each other in the little office, an awkward silence fell upon the two young people.
"I am so glad nothing dreadful happened to you, Tom." Grace at last broke the silence. "Those expeditions are very hazardous. I thought of you often and wondered if you were well." There was a wistful note in her voice of which she was utterly unconscious, but it was not lost on Tom.
"Grace," he said tensely, "did you really miss me?" He leaned forward, his face very close to hers. His eager eyes forced the truth.
"More than I can say, Tom," she answered in a low tone.
Tom caught her hands in his. She did not draw them away. "How much does that mean, Grace? I know I vowed never to open the subject to you again, but I never saw that look in your eyes before, and you never let me hold your hands like this. Which is to be, dear; work or love?"
"Love," was the half-whispered answer. And the gate of happiness, so long barred to Tom Gray, was opened wide.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE BOND ETERNAL
The full moon shone down with its broadest smile on the group of young people who occupied Mrs. Gray's roomy, old-fashioned veranda. As on another June night that belonged to the past, Mrs. Gray's Christmas children had gathered home.
"We're here because we're here," caroled Hippy Wingate. "But allow me to make one observation."
"One," jeered Reddy Brooks. "You mean one hundred."
"That's very unkind in you, Reddy," returned Hippy in a grieved tone. "Just to show you how entirely off the track you are I will make that one observation and subside."
"I didn't know you had such a word as 'subside' in your vocabulary," derided David Nesbit.
"Nora, where art thou? Thy husband is calling," wailed Hippy.
"I would hardly call that an observation," laughed Grace.
"It sounds more like an anguished appeal for help," remarked Anne.
"Or a perpetration by a deaf man who hasn't the least idea of how it sounds," added Tom Gray cruelly.
"Nora," rebuked Hippy, fixing a disapproving eye on his wife, who was laughing immoderately, "how can you hear your husband thus derided and laugh at his suffering? Oh, if Miriam were only here to protect me. By the way," he went on innocently, "where is Miriam?"
"She will be here a little later," said Grace evasively.
"Ah, yes, I see," smirked Hippy. "I suppose she is looking up further information on the drama. Miriam is really well-informed on that subject. Did she go to the library or"—he paused and his smile grew wider—"to the train?"
Absolute silence followed this pertinent question. Then Jessica giggled. That giggle proved infectious. A ripple of mirth went the round of the porch party.
"Here comes Miriam now." Grace pointed down the drive. Two figures were seen strolling toward the house in leisurely fashion.
"Yes, here she comes. Better ask her what you just asked us," Reddy satirically advised Hippy.
"Why ask questions when my eyes tell me it was the train? Still, if you think it advisable I will——"
"Be good," ordered Nora. "Don't you dare say one word."
"But I haven't made my observation yet," reminded Hippy.
"It will keep."
"Ah, here they come! Now for a pretty little speech of welcome." Hippy rose and puffed out his chest, but before he could utter a word he was jerked back by the coat tails to the porch seat on which he and Nora had been sitting.
As Miriam and the man at her side neared the porch every one rose to greet them. Then the women of the party exchanged smiling glances. On Miriam's engagement finger shone the white fire of a diamond. The next instant Everett Southard was shaking hands with Mrs. Gray and the Eight Originals, while Miriam looked on, an expression of radiant happiness in her eyes. Then the actor turned to her with the beautiful smile, that Nora O'Malley had often declared was seraphic, and said: "Shall we tell them now, Miriam?"
Miriam's black eyes glowed with the soft light that love alone could lend to them. The pink in her cheeks deepened. "Yes," she acquiesced.
"Miriam and I are going the rest of our way together, dear friends," he said simply. Anne thought she had never heard his voice take on a more exquisitely tender tone. "I came from New York to tell you so."
Immediately a flow of congratulations ensued. In the midst of them Tom Gray's eyes met Grace's. What he read there seemed to satisfy him. When every one was again seated he walked over to the porch swing where Grace and Anne sat idly rocking to and fro. Stopping directly in front of Grace, he held out his hands to her. As she looked up at him her face took on an expression of perfect love and trust. Placing her hands in Tom's, Grace rose to her feet. Their friends watched the pretty tableau with affectionately smiling faces. Then the two young people faced the expectant company.
"You know, all of you, what I am going to say, so you must know, too, how happy I am. Grace has promised to marry me." Tom's face was aglow with happiness.
"My dear, dear child." Mrs. Gray rose, her arms extended to Grace. "I have hoped for this ever since you were graduated from high school." Grace embraced the old lady tenderly. Then her chums hemmed her in, and congratulations began all over again.
"Talk about your surprises," beamed Reddy. "I hadn't any idea that Grace and Tom had fixed up this one. I can't tell you how glad I am, old fellow." He shook Tom's hand vigorously. David and Hippy followed suit. The faces of the three young men fairly shone with joy. They had long understood the depth of Tom's dejection over Grace's steadfast refusal to give up her work for his sake.
"We saved it as a special feature of the occasion," laughed Tom, "but I'll tell you three fellows a secret." He lowered his voice and the laughter died out of his fine face, leaving it very serious. "I never expected this happiness was coming my way. Long ago I gave up all idea of ever being anything but a friend to Grace. I can't understand how it all came about, and I suppose I never shall."
"Maybe we aren't tickled over your good fortune," said Hippy warmly. "We've waited for this a long while. I always told Nora that it would happen some day. I knew there was just one Tom Gray and that it would only be a question of time until Grace found it out."
"No fair having secrets," called out Nora. "What and who are you boys talking about in such low, confidential voices?"
"Me," beamed Hippy. "Reddy was just telling me that he never fully appreciated me until cruel distance separated us. Of course I can't help feeling touched. It is so seldom that Reddy appreciates anything or any one. He is——"
The confidential group suddenly dissolved in a hurry. Reddy took hold of Hippy's arm and rushed him down the steps and around the corner of the house in an anything but gentle manner. "There," he declared, as he returned to the porch alone. "That will teach him that he can't make pointed remarks about me. I guess he felt 'touched' that time."
"N-o-r-a," wailed a pathetic voice. "Come and get me. I want to sit on the veranda, too."
"Promise you'll be nice to Reddy, or I won't come after you," stipulated Nora, making no effort to rise.
"I won't promise," came the defiant answer. "I don't like Reddy. He is a hard-hearted ruffian."
"Thank you," sang out Reddy. "Now come back if you dare."
"I don't want to come back. I'd rather walk around by myself in the garden."
Nothing further was heard from Hippy for a time. Conversation on the veranda went on merrily. Apparently no one missed the stout young man. Suddenly a bland voice at Reddy's elbow said, "Why, good evening, Reddy." Hippy's fat face appeared between the lace curtains at the open parlor window. He beamed joyfully at the company, then favored Reddy with a smile so wide and ingratiating that the latter's fierce expression changed to a reluctant grin. At this hopeful sign Hippy clambered through the window and crowded himself into the swing between Jessica and Anne, who had resumed their seats there. They protested vigorously, then made room for him.
After announcing their engagement and receiving the congratulations of their friends, Tom and Grace had seated themselves on a rustic bench a little apart from the others. Grace's slim fingers lay within Tom's strong hand.
"Grace," he said, bending toward her so that he could look into her eyes, "are you perfectly sure that you love me? Are you quite content to give up your work? You don't think there will ever come a time when you will be sorry that you chose me instead? It still seems like a dream to me. I can't believe that you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives together. It's too much happiness. If you knew how black everything seemed that rainy day when you sent me out of your life——"
"Hush, you mustn't speak of it," Grace lightly laid the fingers of her free hand against Tom's lips. "I did not know how wonderful your love for me was. It took sorrow and separation to make me see it. But I'm sure now, Tom, perfectly sure. I used to think I could never give up being house mother at Harlowe House, but now I am entirely satisfied to have Emma Dean take my place. She will do the work even better than I. Harlowe House can spare me, but Tom Gray can't, and I can't spare him. What you said to me so long ago came true, dear. When love came to me, not even work could crowd it out. I have found my fairy prince at last."
"Then the prince is going to claim the princess and bind her to him forever with a jeweled circle of gold," said Tom softly. His hand reached into an inner pocket of his coat. Over Grace Harlowe's slender finger was slipped the magic circle of gold, a glittering pledge of eternal devotion, and as she touched the jeweled token with her lips the knowledge came to her that though Loyalheart's pilgrimage in the Land of College was ended, an infinitely more wonderful journey on the Highway of Life was soon to begin.
How Grace Harlowe spent her last summer in her father's house before starting upon that journey, with Tom Gray as her life-long guide, will be told in "Grace Harlowe's Golden Summer."
THE END
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THE YOUNG ENGINEERS SERIES
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
The heroes of these stories are known to readers of the High School Boys Series. In this new series Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton prove worthy of all the traditions of Dick & Co.
1 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN COLORADO; Or, At Railroad Building in Earnest.
2 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN ARIZONA; Or, Laying Tracks on the "Man-Killer" Quicksand.
3 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN NEVADA; Or, Seeking Fortune on the Turn of a Pick.
4 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO; Or, Fighting the Mine Swindlers.
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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BOYS OF THE ARMY SERIES
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
These books breathe the life and spirit of the United States Army of to-day, and the life, just as it is, is described by a master pen.
1 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS IN THE RANKS; Or, Two Recruits in the United States Army.
2 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS ON FIELD DUTY; Or, Winning Corporal's Chevrons.
3 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS AS SERGEANTS; Or, Handling Their First Real Commands.
4 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS IN THE PHILIPPINES; Or, Following the Flag Against the Moros.
6 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS AS LIEUTENANTS; Or, Serving Old Glory as Line Officers.
7 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS WITH PERSHING; Or, Dick Prescott at Grips with the Boche.
8 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS SMASH THE GERMANS; Or, Winding Up the Great War.
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DAVE DARRIN SERIES
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
1 DAVE DARRIN AT VERA CRUZ; Or, Fighting With the U. S. Navy in Mexico.
2 DAVE DARRIN ON MEDITERRANEAN SERVICE.
3 DAVE DARRIN'S SOUTH AMERICAN CRUISE.
4 DAVE DARRIN ON THE ASIATIC STATION.
5 DAVE DARRIN AND THE GERMAN SUBMARINES.
6 DAVE DARRIN AFTER THE MINE LAYERS; Or, Hitting the Enemy a Hard Naval Blow.
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THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS SERIES
By JANET ALDRIDGE
1 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS UNDER CANVAS.
2 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ACROSS COUNTRY.
3 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS AFLOAT.
4 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS IN THE HILLS.
5 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS BY THE SEA.
6 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ON THE TENNIS COURTS.
All these books are bound in Cloth and will be sent postpaid on receipt of only. $1.00 each.
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HIGH SCHOOL BOYS SERIES
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
In this series of bright, crisp books a new note has been struck. Boys of every age under sixty will be interested in these fascinating volumes.
1 THE-HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMEN; Or, Dick & Co.'s First Year Pranks and Sports.
2 THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER; Or, Dick & Co. on the Gridley Diamond.
3 THE HIGH SCHOOL LEFT END; Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on the Football Gridiron.
4 THE HIGH SCHOOL CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM; Or, Dick & Co. Leading the Athletic Vanguard.
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS SERIES
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
This series of stories, based on the actual doings of grammar School boys, comes near to the heart of the average American boy.
1 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS OF GRIDLEY; Or, Dick & Co. Start Things Moving.
2 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS SNOWBOUND; Or, Dick & Co. at Winter Sports.
3 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN THE WOODS; Or, Dick & Co. Trail Fun and Knowledge.
4 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER ATHLETICS; Or, Dick & Co. Make Their Fame Secure.
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' VACATION SERIES
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
"Give us more Dick Prescott books!"
This has been the burden of the cry from young readers of the country over. Almost numberless letters have been received by the publishers, making this eager demand; for Dick Prescott, Dave Darrin, Tom Reade, and the other members of Dick & Co. are the most popular high school boys in the land. Boys will alternately thrill and chuckle when reading these splendid narratives.
1 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' CANOE CLUB; Or, Dick & Co.'s Rivals on Lake Pleasant.
2 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER CAMP; Or, The Dick Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven.
3 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' FISHING TRIP; Or, Dick & Co. in the Wilderness.
4 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' TRAINING HIKE; Or, Dick & Co. Making Themselves "Hard as Nails."
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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THE CIRCUS BOYS SERIES
By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON
Mr. Darlington's books breathe forth every phase of an intensely interesting and exciting life.
1 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS; Or, Making the Start in the Sawdust Life.
2 THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT; Or, Winning New Laurels on the Tanbark.
3 THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND; Or, Winning the Plaudits of the Sunny South.
4 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI; Or, Afloat with the Big Show on the Big River.
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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THE HIGH SCHOOL GIRLS SERIES
By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M.
These breezy stories of the American High School Girl take the reader fairly by storm.
1 GRACE HARLOWE'S PLEBE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; Or, The Merry Doings of the Oakdale Freshman Girls.
2 GRACE HARLOWE'S SOPHOMORE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; Or, The Record of the Girl Chums in Work and Athletics.
3 GRACE HARLOWE'S JUNIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities.
4 GRACE HARLOWE'S SENIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; Or, The Parting of the Ways.
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS SERIES
By LAURA DENT CRANE
No girl's library—no family book-case can be considered at all complete unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books.
1 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT NEWPORT; Or, Watching the Summer Parade.
2 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS IN THE BERKSHIRES; Or, The Ghost of Lost Man's Trail.
3 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS ALONG THE HUDSON; Or, Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow.
4 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT CHICAGO; Or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds.
5 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT PALM BEACH; Or, Proving Their Mettle Under Southern Skies.
6 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT WASHINGTON; Or, Checkmating the Plots of Foreign Spies.
Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00
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