• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Advertising
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Mildred's inheritance
 Just her way
 Ann's own way
 Advertising
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Cosy corner series
Title: Mildred's inheritance
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00088844/00001
 Material Information
Title: Mildred's inheritance Just her way; Ann's own way
Series Title: Cosy corner series
Alternate Title: Just her way
Ann's own way
Physical Description: 7, 74, 10 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Johnston, Annie F ( Annie Fellows ), 1863-1931
Horne, Diantha W ( Illustrator )
Page Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: L.C. Page & Co.
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1909
 Subjects
Subject: Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1909   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1899
Genre: Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Annie Fellows Johnston ; illustrated by Diantha W. Horne.
General Note: Date of publication on t.p. verso.
General Note: Publisher's catalogue precedes and follows text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00088844
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002350212
notis - ALV4287
oclc - 80817985

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Half Title
    Advertising
        Advertising
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents
    List of Illustrations
        List of Illustrations
    Mildred's inheritance
        Page 1
        Page 1a
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    Just her way
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    Ann's own way
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
    Advertising
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text






















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MILDRED'S INHERITANCE













Works of
ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

The Little Colonel Series
(Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of.)
Each one vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated
The Little Colonel Stories $1.50
(Containing irr one volume the three stories, The
Little Colonel," The Giant Scissors," and
"Two Little Knights of Kentucky.")
The Little Colonel's House Party 1.50
The Little Colonel's Holidays 1.50
The Little Colonel's Hero 1.50
The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 1.50
The Little Colonel in Arizona 1.50
The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation 1.50
The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor 1.50
The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding 1.50
. The above 9 vols., boxed 13.50
In Preparation-A New Little Colonel Book 1.50
The Little Colonel Good Times Book 1.50
Illustrated Holiday Editions
Each one vol., small quarto, cloth, illustrated, and printed
in colour
The Little Colonel $1.25
The Giant Scissors 1.25
Two Little Knights of Kentucky 1.25
Big Brother 1.25
Cosy Corner Series
Each one vol., thin 12mo, cloth, illustrated
The Little Colonel $.50
The Giant Scissors ... .50
Two Little Knights of Kentucky .50
Big Brother .50
Ole Mammy's Torment .50
The Story of Dago. .50
Cicely. .. .50
Aunt 'Liza's Hero .50
The Quilt that Jack Built .50
Flip's Islands of Providence" .50
Mildred's Inheritance .. .50
Other Books
Joel: A Boy of Galilee $1.50
In the Desert of Waiting. .50
The Three Weavers .50
Keeping Tryst ..50
The Legend of the Bleeding Heart .50
Asa Holmes 1.00
Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion Fellows Bacon) 1.00

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
200 Summer Street Boston, Mass.
































/ //


"THREE PRETTY COLLEGE GIRLS LEANED OVER THE
RAILING OF THE UPPER DECK (See page ).


-







Cos Itornar Scries

MILDRED'S

INHERITANCE

JUST HER WAY

ANN'S OWN WAY

By
Annie Fellows Johnston
Author of The Little Colonel Series, Big Brother,"
"The Story of Dago," Joel: A Boy of Galilee," etc.
Illustrated by
Diantha W. Horne






Boston A t -t -4 -t
L. C. Page & Company
jt -4 .Publishers





















Copyright, z899
BY THE TRUSTEES OF THE PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF
PUBLICATION AND SABBATH SCHOOL WORK

Copyright, o906
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)

All rights reserved








First Impression, May, 1906
Second Impression, May, 1907
Third Impression, February, 1909








COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyfed and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A.






































PAGE
MILDRED'S INHERITANCE I

JUST HER WAY 27
ANN'S OWN WAY 55
























PAGE
"THREE PRETTY COLLEGE GIRLS LEANED OVER
THE RAILING OF THE UPPER DECK" (See
fage 1) Frontisiece
, BEFORE THE DAY WAS OVER THE TWO WERE
TALKING TOGETHER LIKE OLD FRIENDS" 5
SSAT DOWN ON THE BATTERED LITTLE BOX TO
WAIT II
"SHE READ THAT POOR MUFFIT HAD OVER-
TAXED HER EYES 21
"THE PASSING OF THE VILLAGE OMNIBUS WAS
AN EXCITING EVENT" 29
"SHE AND MISS BARBARA PORED OVER A MAP
OF WASHINGTON" 42
' I WISH DAISY AVERY COULD SEE HER NOW,'
SHE MUTTERED, SAVAGELY" 47
" SAT PERCHED AMONG ITS GUARDED BRANCHES" 56
"IT WAS THE BOX THAT HELD THE GREEN KID
SHOES" 63
"ANN FOLLOWED GINGERLY IN THEIR WAKE" 69

















MILDRED'S INHERITANCE

JUST HER WAY

ANN'S OWN WAY













MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


As the good ship Majestic went steaming
away from the Irish coast, one sunny Septem-
ber morning, three pretty college girls leaned
over the railing of the upper deck, watching the
steerage passengers below. With faces turned
to the shore which they might never see again,
the lusty-throated emigrants were sending their
song of Farewell to Erin floating mournfully
back across the water.
Oh, look at that poor old grandmother! "
exclaimed one of the girls. "There; that one
sitting on a coil of rope with a shawl over her
gray head. The pitiful way she looks back to
land would make me homesick, too, if I were
not already on my way home, with all my family
on board, and all the fun of the sophomore year
ahead of me. Let's go down to the other end
of the deck, where it is more cheerful."
They moved away in friendly, schoolgirl fash-








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


ion, arm in arm, intent only on finding as much
enjoyment as possible in every moment of this
ocean voyage. A young English girl, dressed
in deep mourning, who had been standing near
them, followed them with a wistful glance; then
she turned to look over the railing again at the
old woman on the coil of rope.
I wish that I could change places with her,"
thought the girl. She is so old that she cannot
have many homesick years in store, while I -
left alone in the world at seventeen, and maybe
never to see dear old England again -" The
thought brought such an overwhelming sense of
desolation that she could not control her tears.
Drawing her heavy black veil over her face, she
hurriedly made her way to her deck-chair, and
sank down to sob unseen, under cover of its pro-
tecting rugs and cushions.
This was the first time that Mildred .Stan-
hope had ever been outside of the village where
she was born. The only child of an English
clergyman, the walls of the rectory garden had
been the boundary of her little world. She could
not remember her mother, but with her father
for teacher, playmate, and constant companion,
her life had been complete in its happiness.







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


If the violets blooming within the protecting
walls of the old rectory garden had suddenly
been torn up by the roots and thrown into the
street, the change in their surroundings could
have been no greater than that which came to
Mildred in the first shock of her father's death.
She had been like one in a confused dream ever
since. Some one had answered the letter from
her mother's brother in America, offering her a
home. Some one had engaged her passage,
and an old friend of her father's had taken her
to Liverpool and put her on board the steamer.
Here she sat for the first three days, staring
out at the sea, with eyes which saw nothing of
its changing beauty, but always only a daisy-
covered mound in a little churchyard. All the
happiness and hope that her life had, ended in
that.
"Who is the pretty little English girl?"
people asked when they passed her. She
doesn't seem to have an acquaintance on
board."
I never saw such a sad, hopeless face !" ex-
claimed one of the college girls whom the others
called "Muffit." "If she were an American
girl I'd ask her to walk with us. But English








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


girls are so reserved and shy, and I am afraid it
would frighten her."
If Muffit could have known, that cold, re-
served manner hid a heart hungry for one
friendly word. It was the third day out before
any one spoke to her. She had been warned
against making the acquaintance of strangers,
but one look at the gentle-voiced, white-haired
lady who took the chair next her own, disarmed
every suspicion. The lady was dressed in deep
mourning, like herself, and she had a sweet,
motherly face that drew Mildred irresistibly to
her. Before the day was over the two were
talking together like old friends. When she
saw how the girl grieved for her father, she tried
to draw her away from her sorrow by question-
ing her about her future.
Mildred answered with a shiver. Oh, I try
not to think about that at all. I have never
seen Uncle Joe or any of his family, and every-
thing must be so strange and queer in America.
Now, if they lived in India I would not dread
going half so much; for there would be some-
thing homelike in feeling that I was still under
the protection of our queen. I cannot bear to
think of leaving the ship, for it will be like leav-



























































"BEFORE THE DAY WAS OVER THE TWO WERE TALK-
ING TOGETHER LIKE OLD FRIENDS."








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


ing the last bit of home, to step from under the
dear old Union Jack. A stranger in a strange
land,' she added, her lips quivering.
"No, dear, not as strange as you think,"
added the lady, with a motherly hand-clasp.
"Don't you know that one corner of our coun-
try is called New England, in loving remem-
brance of the old; that your blood flows in our
veins regardless of dividing seas, and gives us
the same heritage of that proud past which you
hold dear ? Don't you know that thousands of
us go back every year, like children of the old
homestead, drawn by all those countless threads
of song and story, of common interests and
aims and relationships that have kept the two
nations woven together in the woof of one great
family ?
Let me tell you a bit of personal sentiment
that links me to the old town of Chester on the
River Dee. There is a house there that, until
recently, was in the possession of my husband's
family for nobody knows how many generations.
Thousands of travellers go every year to see the
inscription over its door. Once, over two hun-
dred years ago, an awful plague swept the town,
and every family in it lost one or more of its








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


household. Only this one house was spared,
and in grateful memory of its escape there was
carved over the door the inscription :
" GOD'S PROVIDENCE IS MINE INHERITANCE.'

"That became the family motto, and it is
engraved here in my wedding-ring. The beau-
tiful thought has helped me over many times of
perplexity and sorrow, and has become the in-
spiration of my life. Because we can trace it
back to that place, I have grown to love every
stone in the quaint old streets of Chester."
She sat twisting the plain gold circlet on her
finger for a moment, and then added thought-
fully: "In the light of her history America
might well set that inscription over her own
door: 'God's providence is mine inheritance.'
It would be none the less appropriate because it
reaches back past the struggling colonists and
past the Mayflower to find the roots of that
faith in the mother country, in a little English
town beside the Dee.
"No, my dear," she exclaimed, looking up at
Mildred; "it is not a land of strangers you are
going to. We sing 'America' and you sing
God Save the Queen,' and we both feel some-








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


times that there is a vast difference between the
songs. But they are set to the same tune, you
know, and to alien ears, who cannot understand
our tongue or our temperament, they must
sound alike."
Life seemed very different to Mildred when
she went to her stateroom that night, and her
cheery companion inspired her with so much
hope before the voyage was over that she began
to look forward to landing with some degree of
interest. How much of her new-found courage
was due to the presence of her helpful counsellor
Mildred did not realize until she came to the
parting. They were standing at the foot of the
gangplank in the New York custom-house.
"I am sorry that I cannot stay to see you
safe in your uncle's care," the lady said, "but
my son tells me there is barely time to catch
the next train to Boston. Good-bye, my child.
If you get lonely and discouraged, think of the
motto in my wedding-ring, and take it for your
own."
The next instant Mildred felt, with a ter-
rible sinking of the heart, that she was all
alone in the great, strange, new world.
Following the directions in her uncle's let-








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


ter, she pushed her way through the crowds
until she came to the section marked S,"
where he was to meet her. There was no
one in sight who bore any resemblance to
the description he had written of himself. She
stood there until her trunk was brought up,
and then sat down on the battered little box
to wait.
An hour went by, and she began to look
around with frightened, nervous glances. A
half-hour more passed. The crowds had di-
minished, for the officials were making their
custom-house examinations as rapidly as pos-
sible. All around her the sections were being
emptied, and the baggage wheeled off in big
trucks. The newsboys and telegraph agents
had all gone. A great fear fell suddenly upon
her that her uncle was never coming, and that
she would soon be left entirely alone in this
barnlike, cavernous custom-house, with its bare
walls and dusty floors; and night was coming
on, and she had nowhere to go.
She was groping in her pocket for a hand-
kerchief to stop the tears that would come,
despite her brave efforts to wink them back,
when some one spoke to her. It was the





















































" SAT DOWN ON THE BATTERED LITTLE BOX TO WAIT."







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


pretty college girl whom the others had called
Muffit.
"Are you having trouble with your baggage
too ? she asked, kindly. "One of our trunks
was misplaced, and they would not examine
anything until it was found. It is here at last,
thank fortune, so that we shall not be delayed
much longer. Mamma and I have noticed you
waiting here, and wondered if you were in the
same predicament. Papa says that he will be so
glad to help you in any way he can, if you
need his assistance." She did not add that her
mother had said, "I can't go away with any
peace of mind until I see that child safe in
somebody's hands."
"There is some dreadful mistake!" sobbed
Mildred. "My uncle was to meet me here,
and I do not know what to do! She buried
her face in her handkerchief, and the next min-
ute "Muffit's" mother had her arms around
her. Then she found that the girl's name was
not Muffit, but Mildred, like her own, Mildred
Rowland.
When Mildred Stanhope told Mrs. Rowland
her name, that motherly woman exclaimed,
"Oh, Edward! What if it were our daughter







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


left in such a trying position! She shall just
come to the hotel with us and stay until we
hear from her uncle. Wasn't it fortunate that
that old trunk delayed us so long We might
have hurried off and never known anything
about you. Well, it's all right now. Mr. Row-
land shall telegraph to your uncle, and we will
keep you with us until he comes."
The next two days were full of strange
experiences to Mildred. The rush and roar
of the great city, the life in the palatial hotel,
with its seeming miles of corridors and hundreds
of servants, bewildered her. In response to
Mr. Rowland's telegram the reply came: "Jo-
seph Barnard died last Wednesday. Call for
letter Blank Hotel." The message was signed
Derrick Jaynes. The letter, which was brought
up an hour later, bore the same signature. It
had been written at the request of Mrs. Barnard
by her minister. It told Mildred of her uncle's
sudden death, occurring the day that she left
Liverpool, and had been sent to the hotel to
which Mr. Barnard had intended to take his
niece, Mrs. Barnard supposing that her hus-
band had given Mildred that address in case
of any slip in making connections.








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


The kindly old minister seemed to realize
the unhappy position in which the young girl
was placed, and gave minute directions regard-
ing the journey she would have to take alone,
while Mr. Rowland arranged for her comfort
in the same fatherly way he would have done
for his own Mildred. "What would I have
done without you?" she exclaimed, in a chok-
ing voice, as she clung to Mrs. Rowland at
parting. "Now I shall be adrift again, all
alone in the world, as soon as you unclasp your
hand."
No, Providence will take care of you, dear,"
answered Mrs. Rowland. "Just keep think-
ing of that motto you told me about, and let
us hear from you when you are safe in Carls-
ville."

Easter had always come to Mildred with the
freshness of country meadows, with cowslips
and crocuses, with the soft green of budding
hedgerows and a chorus of twittering bird-calls
in the old rectory garden. This year, after her
long, dreary winter in Carlsville, she looked out
on the roofs of the smoky little manufacturing
town, and saw only red brick factories and








MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


dingy houses and dirty streets. The longing
for the spring in her old English home lay in
her heart like a throbbing pain. Oh, papa,"
she sobbed, resting her arms on the window-sill
and laying her head wearily down, "do you
know all about it, dearest ? Oh, if you could
only tell me what to do "
A week before, her aunt, Belle Barnard, had
said, in her sickly, complaining voice, Well,
Mildred, I don't like to tell you, but I have
been talking the matter over with the girls, and
they think that we might as well be plain-
spoken with you. Everybody thought that
your Uncle Joe was a rich man, and so did we
till we got the business settled up. Now we
find that after the lawyers are paid there won't
be enough for us all to live on comfortably.
At least there wouldn't be if it wasn't for a
small inheritance that Maud and Blanche have
from their grandmother, and, of course, they
couldn't be expected to divide that with you,
and deny themselves every comfort; so I don't
see any help for it but for you to get a place in
some store or millinery shop, or something.
We have to move in a smaller house next
week."







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


The week had nearly gone by, and Mildred
was growing desperate. Unfitted for most
work, either in strength or education, she
scarcely knew for what to apply, and went from
one place to another at her aunt's recommenda-
tion, feeling like a forlorn little waif for whom
there was no place anywhere in the world.
One afternoon she sat by her window, look-
ing out on the early April sunshine, trying, with
the hopelessness of despair, to form some plan
for her future. "Why didn't I have a grand-
mother to leave me an inheritance like Blanche
and Maud ?" she thought, bitterly.
- Then her thoughts flew back to the day on
shipboard, when she had heard of the old house
in Chester and the inscription in her compan-
ion's wedding-ring. "And she told me to take
that motto for my own," she whispered through
her tears. "'God's providence is mine inher-
itance!' If it is, the time has certainly come
for me to claim it, for I have never been in
such desperate need."
The few times that winter that Mildred had
gone to any service, had been in the church in
the next block. Its gray stone walls, with
masses of overhanging ivy, reminded her of the







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


one she had loved at home. God had seemed
so very far away since she came to Carlsville.
She prayed as she had always done before, but
her prayers seemed like helpless little birds,
unable to rise high enough to carry her plead-
ings to the ear of the great Creator- who had
so many cries constantly going up to him. She
had not realized before how big the world was
and how small a part her little affairs played
in the plan of the great universe. A longing
for some closer communion than she had known
before drew her toward this church, of which
Derrick Jaynes was the rector. The door was
unlocked, and the slender black figure slipped
in unobserved. In the big empty church her
desolate little moan was all unheard and un-
heeded, as she knelt at the altar sobbing, Oh,
God, I don't know what will become of me if
you do not help me now! Oh, show me 'mine
inheritance!'"
Three times during that week she went back
to that same place with that same cry. The
last time she went some one was in the church.
It was the organist, practising some new Easter
music for the next day's services. A burst of
triumphant melody greeted her as she noise-







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


lessly opened the side door. She met the
florist coming out, for he had just completed
the decorating, and the place was a mass of
bloom. All around the chancel stood the tall,
white Easter lilies, waiting, like the angels in
the open tomb, with their glad resurrection
message He is risen "
As Mildred stood with clasped hands, an
unspoken prayer rising with the organ's jubi-
lant tones and the incense of the lilies, she felt
a touch on her shoulder. It was the white-
haired old minister.
I saw you come in," he said, in a whisper.
"I have been trying all day to find time to call
at your aunt's to talk with you. You do not
know, but I have been in correspondence sev-
eral times this winter regarding you, with a Mr.
Rowland. He wrote me when you first came
that his wife and daughter were deeply inter-
ested in you, and wanted to be kept informed
of your welfare. This morning I received a
letter which needs your personal answer. I am
very busy now, but shall try to see you Mon-
day in regard to it."
Mildred's heart beat rapidly as he handed
her a large, businesslike-looking letter and







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE


went softly out again. In the dim light of the
great stained-glass windows she read that poor
Muffit had overtaxed her eyes, and that they
were so badly affected she could not go back
to school for the spring term. In looking for
some one who could be eyes for their Mildred,
so that she might go on with her studies at
home, they had thought of this other Mildred,
the little English girl, whose low, musical voice
had been so carefully trained by her father in
reading aloud. By one of these strange provi-
dences which we never recognize as such at the
time, Mr. Rowland had broken his spectacles
the last evening of Mildred's stay in New York.
She had offered to read the magazine article
which he was particularly anxious to hear, and
they had been charmed by her beautifully mod-
ulated voice. Now the letter had been written
to offer her a liberal salary and a home for the
summer.
Mildred gave a gasp of astonishment. It
was not the almost miraculous finding of what
she had come to seek that overwhelmed her.
It was a feeling that swept across her like a
flood, warm and sweet and tender; the sudden
realization that a hand stronger than death and



























































"SHE READ THAT POOR MUFFIT HAD OVERTAXED
HER EYES."







MILDRED'S INHERITANCE 23

wise above all human understanding had her in
its keeping. She dropped on her knees at the
flower-decked altar-rail, with face upturned and
radiant; no longer lonely; no longer afraid of
what the future might hold. She had come
into her inheritance.
Kneeling there she looked back again to
her father's lowly grave in the little church-
yard across the seas, but she saw it no longer
through hopeless tears. Into her heart the
great organ had pealed the gladness of its exult-
ant Easter message, and in the deep peace of
the silence which followed, the fragrance of the
lilies breathed a wordless "Amen "

















JUST HER WAY













JUST HER WAY



"LOOK out of the window, Judith Quick!
Mrs. Avery is going away! Judith Windham,
bending over the sewing-machine in her bed-
room, started as her little sister's voice came
piping shrilly up the stairs, and leaving her chair
she leaned out of the old-fashioned casement
window.
There were so few goings and comings in
sleepy little Westbrooke, that the passing of the
village omnibus was an exciting event. With
an imposing rumble of yellow wheels it rattled
up to Doctor Allen's gate across the road. A
trunk, a dress suit case, and numerous valises
were hoisted to the top of it, and the doctor's
family flocked down to the gate to watch the
departure of the youngest member of their
household, Marguerite.
It had been four years since the first time
they watched her go away, a nineteen-year-old







JUST HER WAY


bride. Since then they had visited her, sever-
ally and collectively, in her elegant apartments
in Washington, but this had been her first visit
home. Judith, watching her flutter down the
walk with her hand in the old doctor's, thought
she looked even prettier and more girlish than
on her wedding-day. Married life had been all
roses for Marguerite.
She's the same dear old harum-scarum
Daisy she always was, in spite of the efforts of
her Lord Chesterfield of a husband to reform
her," thought Judith, fondly, as her old school-
mate, catching sight of her at the window,
waved her parasol so wildly that the staid old
'bus horses began to plunge.
The girls had bidden each other good-bye the
night before, but Marguerite stopped in the
midst of her final embracings to call out,
" Good-bye, again, Judith. Remember, I shall
expect you the first of February." Then the
slender figure in its faultless tailor-made gown
disappeared into the omnibus. Her husband, a
distinguished, scholarly man, lifted his hat once
more and stepped in after her. The door banged
behind them, and, creaking and swaying, the
ancient vehicle moved off in a cloud of dust.























I


.-



oii
/-..' _2 .. -, ? I ,..
-ll i -'I













'iTHE PASSING OF THE VILLAGE OMNIBUS WAS AN
EXCITING EVENT."







JUST HER WAY


Feeling that something very bright and inter-
esting had dropped out of her life, Judith went
back to the sewing-machine. As she picked up
her work an involuntary sigh escaped her.
"That's a very sorry sound, Judith. Are
you tired ?"
It was a sympathetic voice that asked the
question, and Judith looked up with a smile.
Her mother's cousin stood in the doorway -a
prim little old spinster, who had been their
guest for several days. Like Marguerite, she,
too, had come back to her native village after an
absence of four years, but not to 'her father's
house. She was all alone in the world, save for
a few distant relatives who called her Cousin
Barbara. After a short visit, she would go
away for another long absence, but not, like
Marguerite, to a life full of many interests and
pleasures. She had only her music pupils in a
little Pennsylvania mining town, and a room in
a boarding-house.
"Come in, Cousin Barbara," said Judith,
cordially. "I was sighing over Marguerite's
departure. You know she was my best friend
at school, and I have missed her so much since
her marriage. The other girls in our class have








JUST HER WAY


all gone away to teach or take positions some-
where, except the two who married and settled
down here in Westbrooke; and they have such
different interests now. All they can talk about
is their housekeeping or their babies. Most of
the boys have gone away, too. I don't wonder.
Anybody with any ambition would get away
from such a place if it were within the range of
possibilities."
Cousin Barbara had seated herself in a low
rocking-chair and was pulling the basting threads
from a finished garment. "Listen !" she said,
"isn't that Amy calling again?" An excited
little voice came shrilly up the stairs.
Look, Judith! Mrs. Avery is coming back
again What do you suppose is the matter ? "
The omnibus dashing down the road stopped
suddenly at the gate opposite. The door burst
open, and the dignified Mr. Avery, in undignified
haste, ran breathlessly toward the house, while
Marguerite called out a laughing explanation to
her friend at the window.
I left my watch on the dressing-table and
my purse with my trunk keys in it, and we've
only six minutes to catch the train. Isn't that
just my way? Look at Algernon run! I







JUST HER WAY


wouldn't have believed it of him. Well, it has
given me another chance to remind you that
you are to come to me in February. You
needn't shake your head. I'll not take 'no'
for an answer. You're so good at planning,
Judith, I'm sure you can arrange it some way."
Then as her husband returned, red-faced and
breathless, she leaned out of the 'bus, and
laughingly blew an airy kiss from her finger-
tips.
"That's just like her!" exclaimed Judith.
"She's as irresponsible and careless as a child.
She was always late to school, and losing her
pencils and forgetting her books. We used to
call her 'Daisy Dilly-dally.' She's such a dear
little butterfly, though, and it doesn't seem pos-
sible that we are the same age twenty-three.
I feel like a patriarch beside her."
"So she has invited you to visit her in
Washington," began Miss Barbara. "I am
glad of that. It will be such a fine change for
you."
To her surprise, the gray eyes filled with
tears, and in her effort to wink them back
Judith did not reply for a moment. Then she
answered, lightly, "Yes; it would be a golden







JUST HER WAY


opportunity if I could only afford to accept, but
the wolf is still at the door, Cousin Barbara. It
has stood in the way of everything I ever longed
to do. Even when a child I used to hear so
much about it that I thought it was a veritable
flesh-and-blood wolf. Many a night I slipped
out of bed and peered through the curtain, all
a-shiver. I wanted to see if its fiery eyeballs
were really watching at the door. I wanted to
see them if they were there, and yet was ter-
rified to peep out for fear they were. Even
now it seems more than a mere figure of speech.
Often I dream of having a hand-to-hand struggle
with it, but I always conquer it in the end in
my dreams," she added, with a gay little laugh.
"And that is a good omen."
That cheery laugh was the key-note of Judith's
character, Miss Barbara thought. All her life
she had taken the pinch of poverty bravely for
the sake of her invalid mother and the three
younger sisters whom she was now helping
through school. Gradually she had shouldered
the heavy responsibilities laid upon her, until
she had settled down to a routine of duty,
almost hopeless in its monotony. Miss Barbara
noted with keen eyes that a careworn look had







JUST HER WAY


become the habitual expression of the sweet
girlish face, and she sat wishing with all her
heart that she were something herself besides a
poorly paid little music teacher with the wolf
lurking at her own door. As she wound the
Basting threads on a spool she planned the rose-
coloured future Judith should have if it were
only in her power to give it.
Judith must have felt the unspoken sympathy,
for presently she burst forth : If I could only
go away, just once, and have a real good time,
like other girls, just once, while I am young
enough to enjoy it, I wouldn't ask anything
more. I've never been ten miles outside of
Westbrooke, and I'm sure no one ever longed
to travel more than I. I never have any com-
pany of my own age. Our old set is all gone,
and my friends are either elderly people or the
school-children who come to see the girls. And
they all are so absorbed in the trivial village
happenings and neighbourhood gossip.
"What I want is to meet people out in the
world who really do things,- men like Mr.
Avery, for instance; Daisy is always entertain-
ing distinguished strangers, artists and authors
and musicians. Friendship with such cultured,







JUST HER WAY


interesting people would broaden the horizon of
my whole life. I have a feeling that if I could
once get away, it would somehow break the ice,
and things would be different ever after." Then
she added, with a tinge of bitterness that rarely
crept into her voice, I might as well plan to go
to the moon. The round-trip ticket alone, with-
out the sleeping-car berth, would be at least
forty dollars, wouldn't it ?"
Miss Barbara nodded. "Yes, fully that. It
costs me almost that much to go to Packertown
and back, and that, you know, is a few hours
this side of Washington."
There was silence for several minutes, while
Judith, already ashamed of her outburst, stitched
twice round the skirt she was making for Amy.
Then she said in a cheerful tone that somehow
forbade any return to the subject, "Tell me
about Packertown, Cousin Barbara. How did
you happen to stray off there after a music
class ?"
The trip to Washington was mentioned no
more that summer, but Miss Barbara under-
stood.
It was the middle of September when the old
yellow omnibus rolled up for Miss Barbara and








JUST HER WAY


her trunk. This time there was no returning
in mad haste after forgotten property. With a
precision that was almost fussiness, she had
packed her trunk days before her departure,
and her bonnet was on an hour before train
time.
"I can't help it," she said, calmly, when
Judith remonstrated. "It's just my way. I
have a horror of keeping any one waiting.
Habitual disregard of punctuality in the keeping
of an engagement or a promise is a sort of dis-
honesty, in my opinion. I suppose I do carry it
to an extreme in minor matters, but it is better
to do that than to cause other people needless
anxiety and trouble."
Miss Barbara was mounted on her hobby
now, and she ambled vigorously along until
Amy, with a sigh of relief, announced that she
heard wheels. Amy had heard Cousin Barbara's
views more than once, when a missing shoe
button, a torn glove, or an unanswered note,
claimed immediate attention.
"Remember, Judith," said Miss Barbara, at
parting, "if anything should happen to make it
possible for you to go to Washington, be sure
and let me know. I want to arrange for you to







JUST HER WAY


stop with me a week on your way." But even
as Judith spoke her thanks, she shook her head.
She had stopped building air-castles.
Winter came early to Westbrooke. Mrs.
Allen ran over occasionally with a letter from
Marguerite, who was an erratic correspondent,
sometimes sending interesting daily bulletins of
sixteen or twenty pages, sometimes breaking a
month's silence by only a postal card. They
rarely heard from Miss Barbara, but, one snowy
day late in January, Amy dashed in from the
post-office with a letter to Judith, addressed
in her unmistakable precise little hand. She
wrote:

"The new year began for me with a great
pleasure, Judith dear. An old bill, which I had
been unable to collect for so long that I crossed
it off my books two years ago, was paid very
unexpectedly, and I feel as if I had fallen heir
to a dukedom.
It is enough to enable you to make your
visit to Washington and to pay your board in
the room next to mine for two weeks. Maybe
there will be enough to get the material for a
simple evening gown, and you can make it while







JUST HER WAY


you are here, or at home. It depends on whether
you go first to Mrs. Avery or to me. Write to
her at once, please, so that I may know when
to expect you.
"Oh, my dear child, you do not know the
unalloyed pleasure I have already had in an-
ticipating not only your visit to me, but your
good times in Washington. I feel that your
enjoyment of the outing, which I would have
enjoyed so intensely at your age, will, in a way,
compensate me for my starved, unsatisfied girl-
hood, and I am sure you are too generous to
refuse me the pleasure.
Enclosed you will find the check and a card
on which I have written all necessary directions
as to railroad connections, time-tables, etc."

No girl of fifteen could have been more en-
thusiastic in her rapturous expressions of delight
than Judith, as she danced into her mother's
room, waving the check. Amy looked on in
amazement.
I didn't know that sister could get so ex-
cited," she said to her mother, afterwards.
"It is the first great pleasure she has ever
had," said Mrs. Windham, with a sigh. "It







JUST HER WAY


means far more to her than a trip to Europe
would to Marguerite. We all must help her to
make the most of it."
It seemed to Judith that all Westbrooke had
heard of her proposed journey before night.
Neighbours ran in to talk it over and proffer their
assistance. The little old trunk that had gone
on her mother's wedding journey was brought
down, and the family dropped various contribu-
tions into it, from Mrs. Windham's well-pre-
served black silk skirt, to Edith's best stockings.
Amy brought her coral pin and only lace-trimmed
handkerchief, begging Judith to wear them when
she went to the White House. "Then I can
tell the girls they've seen the President of the
United States," she said, proudly.
Lillian, next in age to Judith, presented her
outright with her Christmas gloves. Mittens
are good enough for Westbrooke," she said.
"Just bring me a leaf from Mount Vernon and
one from Arlington for my memory book. I
can hardly realize that you are really going to
see such famous places."
Marguerite's letter in response to Judith's
news came promptly. She named a long list of
sights which she had planned for Judith to see,







JUST HER WAY


and mentioned a noted violinist who was to visit
Washington the following month and had prom-
ised to play at the musical she intended giving
on the sixteenth.
I am sure you will like that better than
anything," she wrote. Make your visit to
Miss Barbara first. I wish I could have you
come on the first of February, as I invited you
to do, but, unfortunately, Mr. Avery's mother
and sisters are with us just now, and they
occupy all our spare room. They do not expect
to stay long after my cousin's reception on the
third, however, and I will write as soon as they
leave, and let you know just what day to
come."
The first week of Judith's visit in Packertown
fairly flew by. Miss Barbara was away much
of the time, both morning and afternoon, with
her music pupils, but Judith busied herself with
the making of the dainty white dinner gown,
and wove happy day-dreams while she worked.
In the evenings she and Miss Barbara pored
over a map of Washington until they could
locate all the prominent places of interest, and
then Miss Barbara brought out a pile of bor-
rowed magazines in which were interesting







JUST HER WAY


descriptions of those very places, and they took
turns in reading aloud.
When the dress was completed they had a
little jubilee. Judith wore it one evening, with


its dainty flutter of ribbons, for Miss Barbara to
admire, and they invited the landlady and her
daughter in to have music and toast marsh-
mallows.
"You don't, look a day over eighteen," Miss
Barbara declared. You ought to wear white all
the time."
It is given only to saints and the lilies that







JUST HER WAY


toil not' to do that," answered Judith, gaily.
"I am satisfied to be arrayed just on state
occasions." And then because she was so happy
she seized the little music teacher and waltzed
her round and round before the mirror. "It's
all your doing, you blessed Cousin Barbara!
See how you have metamorphosed me."
Several days later she stood idly turning the
calendar. "This is the day of the reception,"
she said; "the Averys will certainly be going
home soon, and I ought to hear from Margue-
rite."
But no letter came the next day, nor the
next, nor all the following week, although she
went to the post-office several times daily.
It grew dull waiting, with Miss Barbara gone
so much, and with nothing to do. She read the
few books at her disposal, she paced up and
down in the two little back bedrooms that she
and Miss Barbara occupied. She took long
walks alone, but the little mining town was
even smaller than Westbrooke, and she found
scant material with which to fill her letters
home.
The two weeks for which she had been in-
vited came to an end, and Judith grew desperate







JUST HER WAY


over her fruitless trips to the post-office. She
knew that Miss Barbara had just made the pay-
ment that was due the Building and Loan
Association in which she was putting her little
earnings, and would be almost penniless until
the end of another term. Besides, she had
accepted all that she was willing to take from
the hard-worked little music teacher.
I have packed my trunk and am going home
to-morrow, Cousin Barbara," she announced.
" Mr. Avery's family have evidently stayed
longer than Daisy expected, and she can't have
me. Maybe some of them are ill."
Then she should have written and told you
so," said Miss Barbara, waxing so indignant
over the neglect of her protegee that she grew
eloquent on the subject of her hobby punc-
tuality, especially in correspondence.
"I suppose you wouldn't want to write
again ? she suggested.
But Judith shook her head. "Oh, no, no!"
she insisted; Daisy understands perfectly that
I can stay here only two weeks. I explained
the situation fully in my letter. I mailed it
myself, and I am sure that she received it.
And I couldn't thrust myself upon her, you







JUST HER WAY


know. She has probably forgotten all about
her invitation by this time; this visit doesn't
mean as much to her as to me."
But I can't bear to be disappointed after
going so far," said Miss Barbara. She'll
surely write in a few days. You'll just have
to stay another week. I can arrange for that
long. The landlady wants the room after the
twenty-first for a permanent boarder, but you
can't go until then."
In spite of all Judith's protestations, Miss
Barbara kept her, and never did a week drag
by so slowly. It snowed incessantly. Miss
Barbara was unusually busy. Judith took a
severe cold that confined her to the house.
Her eyes ached when she attempted to read,
and all she could do was to pace up and down
the room and look out of the window, or watch
the clock in feverish impatience for Miss Bar-
bara to return with the mail.
But not until the sixteenth, the day of the
musical, did she lose hope. When the hour
came in which she should have been listening
to the famous violinist in Marguerite's elegant
drawing-rooms, she threw herself on the bed
and cried as if her heart would break. It had







JUST HER WAY


been years since she had given away to her
emotions as she did then, but the disappoint-
ment was a bitter one. She must go back
home without even a glimpse of the city of her
dreams, and without meeting a single interest-
ing person. True, she had had a pleasant visit
with Cousin Barbara, but they both had thought
of it as only the stepping-stone to what lay be-
yond. Then at the thought of Miss Barbara's
disappointment, second only to her own, she
cried again. And again for her mother's dis-
appointment and the girls', and her mortification
when it should be discussed in every house in
Westbrooke. She sobbed so long that finally
she fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion.
Miss Barbara, coming in later in the twilight,
found her lying on the bed, with a feverish
flush on her cheeks. The grieved, childlike
droop of the sensitive little mouth told its own
story, and Miss Barbara set her lips sternly
together.
I wish Daisy Avery could see her now,"
she muttered, savagely; "it's cruel to disappoint
any one so. I don't care what the cause is, it's
wickedly cruel to be so careless."
Four days later Judith went home. In the













































i, ~


"'I WISH DAISY AVERY COULD SEE HER huW,' SHit

MUTTERED, SAVAGELY."


c


~







JUST HER WAY


course of a week a letter was forwarded to her
from Packertown. It was from Marguerite:

"How can you ever forgive my abominable
carelessness ? I intended to answer immediately
after our guests left, but Mr. Avery and I were
invited to a little house-party in the country,
and I thought a few days wouldn't make any
difference to you. Then, after our return, so
many things interfered and the days slipped by
so fast, that the month was nearly gone before I
realized it. But then I always have been such a
poor correspondent.
I hope that it hasn't inconvenienced you
any, and that you have been having a good visit
with Miss Barbara. You know my unfortunate
way of doing things, and I'm sure you'll forgive
me, like the darling you always were.
"We shall look for you to-morrow on the six
o'clock train. Don't disappoint us, for we both
shall be at the station to meet you.
"Devotedly,
"MARGUERITE."

Judith read the letter aloud to the girls and
then dropped it in the fire, watching it without







JUST HER WAY


a word, as it curled up in the flame. How long
she had waited for that careless little letter!
How anxiously she had hoped for it! A few
days sooner it would have brought untold happi-
ness. Now it was only a hollow mockery.
Well, it was all over now. Her hopes were
in ashes like the letter. How high they had
burned And the little evening gown she had
taken such pleasure in making--there would
never be any occasion fit for its wearing in
Westbrooke. She might as well fold it away.
The letter had come too late. And she was
asked to forgive it the disappointment that
would sting all her life long -simply because it
was Daisy's way.
The silence was growing uncomfortable. Amy
kept casting frightened glances at her sister's
white, tense face. "Oh, dear," she sighed,
finally, "if this had only been in a story it
wouldn't have ended so dreadfully. Something
nice would have happened just at the last minute
to make up for the disappointment."
"But it isn't in a story," said Judith, slowly,
rising to leave the room. "And nothing can
compensate for such a disappointment. It will
hurt always."







JUST HER WAY 51

As the door closed behind her the girls ex-
changed sympathizing glances. "If there had
even been a good reason," sighed Lillian, "but
it was only carelessness. And the trouble of it
is, the world is full of Daisy Averys."


















ANN'S OWN WAY













ANN'S OWN WAY



"ANN! Ann! Have you been home yet to
feed the chickens ?" The call came from the
doorway of a big old farmhouse, where a pleas-
ant-faced woman stood looking out over the
October fields.
The answer floated down from an apple-tree
near by, where a ten-year-old girl sat perched
among its gnarled branches. She had a dog-
eared book of fairy tales on her knee, and was
poring over it in such blissful absorption that
she had forgotten there were such things in
all the world as chickens to be fed.
"No'm, Aunt Sally, I haven't done it yet,
but I'll go in a minute," and she was deep into
the story again.
But, Ann," came the voice after a moment's
waiting, "it is nearly sundown, and you ought
to go right away, dear. Lottie says that you
have been reading ever since you came home
55








ANN'S OWN WAY


from school, and I am afraid that your mother
wouldn't like it."


"Oh, bother!" exclaimed Ann under her
breath, shutting the book with an impatient







ANN'S OWN WAY


slap; but she obediently swung herself down
from the limb, and went into the house for
the key. The little cottage where Ann Fowler
lived stood just across the lane from her Uncle
John's big brown house, where she was staying
while her mother was away from home. Mrs.
Fowler, who had been called to the city by her
sister's illness, had taken little Betty with her,
but Ann could not afford to miss school and
had been left in her Aunt Sally's care. The
arrangement was very agreeable to the child,
for it meant no dish-wiping, no dusting, no run-
ning of errands while she was a guest. Her
only task was to go across the lane twice a day
and feed the chickens.
As Ann came out of the house swinging the
key, her aunt called her again: Mrs. Grayson
was here to-day. She came to invite you and
Lottie to a Saturday afternoon romp with her
little girls to-morrow. She's asked a dozen
boys and girls to come and play all afternoon
and stay to tea. Her oldest daughter, Jennie,
is going to give a Hallowe'en party at night,
but she'll send you home in the carryall after
tea, before the foolishness begins."
Didn't she invite us to the party too?"







ANN'S OWN WAY


asked Ann, who had heard it discussed at
school all week by the older girls and boys of
the neighbourhood, until her head was full of the
charms and mysteries of Hallowe'en.
"Why, of course not," was the answer.
"Jennie Grayson is fully eighteen years old
and wouldn't want you children tagging
around."
But we can't work any charms in the after-
noon," said Ann. "They won't come true
unless you wait till midnight to do 'em. I found
a long list of 'em in an old book at home and
gave them to Jennie. I think she might have
asked me. I'd love to try my fate walking
down cellar backwards with a looking-glass in
one hand and a candle in the other. They say
that you can see the reflection of the man you're
going to marry looking over your shoulder into
the glass."
"Why, Ann Fowler! exclaimed her aunt
in a horrified tone, lifting up both hands in her
astonishment. "I didn't think it of a little
girl like you! Don't you go to putting any
foolish notions like that into Lottie's head.
Fate indeed! It would be more like your fate
to fall down cellar and break the looking-glass







ANN'S OWN WAY


and set yourself on fire. No, indeed! Lottie
shouldn't go to such a party if she had a dozen
invitations."
Ann hurried away wishing that she had not
spoken. She had an uncomfortable feeling that
her aunt considered her almost wicked, because
she had made that wish. As for her aunt, she
was saying to her husband, who had just come
in, "Well, well! that child has the queerest
notions. Her mother lets her read entirely too
much, and anything she happens to get her
hands on. And she sets such store by her
clothes, too. I believe if she had her own way
she'd be rigged out in her Sunday best the
whole week long. I'm glad that Lucy isn't like
her."
No one, judging by the appearance of the
resolute little figure trudging across the lane,
would have imagined that Ann's besetting sin
was a love of dress. She was such a plain old-
fashioned little body, with her short brown hair
combed smoothly back behind her ears. But
the checked sunbonnet, the long-sleeved ging-
ham apron, and the stout calfskin shoes were
no index of Ann's taste. They were of her
mother's choosing, and Ann's mother was not







ANN'S OWN WAY


a woman whose decisions could be lightly set
aside.
In a bureau drawer in the guest-chamber of
the little cottage was a dress that Ann had
been longing to put on for six months. It was
of dainty white organdy, made to wear over a
slip of the palest green silk, with ribbons to
match. And carefully wrapped in a box, with
many coverings of tissue paper, was a pair of
beautiful pale green kid shoes. Ann had worn
them only once, and that was in the early spring,
when she had gone to a cousin's wedding in the
city. Many a Sunday morning since, she had
wept bitter tears into that drawer, at not being
allowed to wear the costume to church.
"Just see how beautiful they are, mother,"
she would say tearfully, touching the beribboned
dress with admiring fingers and caressing the
shoes. "By the time I have another chance to
wear them in the city they will be too small for
me, and I shall have to give them to Betty. I
don't see why I can't wear them out here."
Because they are not suitable, Ann," her
mother would answer. "You would look ridic-
ulous going through the fields and along the
dusty roads in such finery, and among all these








ANN'S OWN WAY


plainly attired country people you would appear
overdressed. I hope that my little daughter is
too much of a lady in her tastes to ever want
to call attention to herself in that way, espe-
cially at church."
But, mother," the little girl would sob pro-
testingly, and then Mrs. Fowler's decided voice
would silence her.
Hush, Ann! Close the drawer at once.
You cannot wear them." That would settle the
matter for awhile, but the scene had been re-
peated several times during the summer. Now
it was next to the last day of October, and no
suitable occasion had arrived for Ann to wear
them.
As she stood scattering the corn to the
chickens, a daring plan began to form itself
in her busy brain. The trees suggested it;
the trees of the surrounding woodland, decked
out in their royal autumn colouring of red and
yellow, that the sunset was just now turning
into a golden glory.
Even the trees get to wear their best clothes
sometimes," she said to herself. "They look
like a lot of princesses ready for a ball. Oh,
that's what they are," she exclaimed aloud.







ANN'S OWN WAY


,"They are all Cinderellas. October is their
fairy godmother who has changed their old
every-day dresses into beautiful ball-gowns, for
them to wear on Hallowe'en. I don't see why
I couldn't wear my best clothes too, to-morrow."
Then she went on, as if she were talking to the
old white rooster: "I'd rather be dressed up
and look nice than to play, and I needn't romp
at all. If we were to begin trying charms after
supper, Mrs. Grayson would be almost sure to
let us stay until after Jennie's party begins, and
then all the big boys and girls would see my
lovely clothes. Nobody out here knows I've
got 'em. And then if I should go down cellar
with a looking-glass and candle and somebody
should look over my shoulder, I'd be so glad
that the first time he ever saw me I was all
in green and white like the Princess Emeralda,
with my beautiful pale green party shoes on."
Alas! Aunt Sally was right. The flotsam
and jetsam of too many sentimental stories and
fairy tales were afloat in the child's active mind.
A few minutes later she had gathered the eggs
and put them away in the pantry. Then she
stepped into the sitting-room, awed by the
solemn stillness that enveloped the usually




























































IT WAS THE BOX THAT HELD THE GREEN KID
SHOES."







ANN'S OWN WAY


cheerful room. How strange and dark it
seemed with all the blinds closed! She groped
her way across the floor, and tiptoed through
the hall as if she were afraid that the great
eight-day clock in the corner might hear her
and call her back. Its loud tick-tock was the
only sound in the house, except her own rapid
breathing.
Throwing open a western window, she pushed
back the shutters until the guest-chamber was
all alight with the glow of the sunset. Then
she clutched the handles of the bureau drawer
with fingers that twitched guiltily, and gave a
jerk. It was locked. For a moment her dis-
appointment was so great that she was ready
to cry, but her face soon cleared and she began
a search for the keys. Under the rug, in the
vases on the mantel, behind photograph frames,
into every crack where a key could be hidden,
she peered with eager brown eyes. It was not
to be found. Finally she climbed on a chair to
the highest closet shelf, where she came across
something that made her give a cry of delight.
It was the box that held the green kid shoes.
"I'll wear this much of my party clothes,
anyhow," she declared, scrambling down with







ANN'S OWN WAY


the box in her arms. Then followed a fruitless
search for the silk stockings that matched them.
They were not in the box with the shoes, where
they had always been kept, and a rummage
through the drawers showed nothing suitable.
She heard her Aunt Sally's cook blowing the
horn for supper before she gave up the search.
That night after she and Lottie had gone up to
bed, she took her cousin into her confidence.
Mother hasn't left a thing unlocked but my
school clothes," she said. "I can't find a
stocking except my red ones and my striped
ones and some horrid old brown things. She
hasn't left out a single white pair for Sundays;
I don't see what she could have been thinking
of." Nowadays little girls might not think that
such a distressing matter, but twenty-five years
ago no stockings but white ones were consid-
ered proper for full-dress occasions.
"I'll lend you some," said Lottie obligingly.
"I have a pair of fine white lamb's wool that
will fit you. They are a little small for me,
and ma put them away to keep because grand-
ma knit them herself after she was eighty years
old. But I know she would not care if you
wore them just once."







ANN'S OWN WAV


"Then let's get them to-night and not say
anything about it until after to-morrow," said
Ann. She might say I ought not to wear the
shoes, and I'm just bound to have my own way
for once in my life."
When Ann's dark eyes flashed as wickedly
as they did then, Lottie always submitted with-
out a word. Opening a big chest in one corner
of the room, she began fumbling among the pile
of neatly wrapped winter flannels it contained,
while Ann held the candle.
"I saw ma put them in this corner," said
Lottie. "I am sure. Oh! here they are,"
she exclaimed, and as she unfolded them she
sneezed so suddenly that it nearly put out the
candle. "It's the red pepper," she explained.
"They're full of it, to keep out the moths.
Hold them up and shake them hard."
Several shrivelled rec pods fell out as Ann
obeyed, and so much loose pepper that they
both began sneezing violently. Lottie's mother
presently called up the stairs for them to hurry
to bed, for they surely must be taking cold.
The next afternoon when Mrs. Grayson's
carryall drove down the lane Ann was waiting
in front of the cottage, and climbed in before







ANN'S OWN WAY


her Aunt Sally came out to the gate to see
them off.
"Tuck the lap-robe around you well," she
called. "If I had known it was so cold, I'd
have gotten out your hoods instead of those
sunbonnets. It really begins to feel as if win-
ter is on the way."
It was a dull gray day with a hint of snow
in the air. Several flakes fell before they
reached the Grayson farm, and Ann pulled
aside the lap-robe more than once to peep
at the light green shoes with secret misgivings
as to their appropriateness. The wool stock-
ings made them such a tight fit that they
pinched considerably, but the pinching was
more than compensated for by the shapely
appearance of her trim little feet. Besides
there was a vast amount of satisfaction to the
wilful child in the mere knowledge that she was
having her own way.
Under ordinary circumstances Ann would
have looked back at that afternoon as one of
the merriest of her life. She loved the woods
like an Indian, and usually was the leading
spirit in such exploits as they ventured on that
day. They were off to the woods with baskets



















































"ANN FOLLOWED GINGERLY IN THEIR WAKE."







ANN S OWN WAY


and pails as soon as they had all assembled.
But for once the late wild grapes hung their
tempting bunches overhead in vain. The per-
simmons, frost-sweetened and brown, lay under
the trees unsought by Ann's nimble fingers,
and the nuts pattered down on the dead leaves
unheeded. While the other children raced
down the hills and whooped through the frosty
hollows, Ann followed gingerly in their wake,
picking her way as best she could through the
rustling leaves and across the slippery logs that
bridged the little brooks. It was too cold to
sit down. She was obliged to keep stirring;
so all that miserable afternoon she tagged after
the others, painfully conscious of her fine shoes,
and a slave to the task of keeping them
clean.
Hi! Ann, what's the -matter ?" called one
of the boys as he noticed her mincing along
at the tail-end of the procession instead of
gallantly leading the charge as usual. Then
his glance wandered down past the checked
sunbonnet and the long-sleeved gingham apron
to the cause of her leisurely gait.
"My eyes!" he exclaimed with more vigour
than politeness. "What made you pull your







ANN'S OWN WAY


shoes so soon for, Ann? They ain't ripe.
They're green as gourds."
Mind your own business, Bud Bailey," was
the only answer he received, but from then on
what had been her greatest pride became her
deepest mortification. For some unaccountable
reason, after awhile her feet burned as if they
were on fire, and before the afternoon was over
the pain was almost unbearable. Lottie found
her sitting on a log behind a big tree, with her
arms clasped around her knees, rocking back
and forth, her eyes tightly closed and her teeth
clenched.
It must be the red pepper in those stock-
ings that burns you so," she said sympatheti-
cally. Come on up to the house and take
them off. Lucy will lend you another pair."
But Ann sprang up, fiercely forbidding her
to mention it to any one, and dashed into the
games with a Spartan disregard of her pain. It
was the only way to keep from crying, and she
played recklessly onr at "prisoner's base," not
stopping even when a pointed stick snagged
one shoe and a sharp rock cut the other.
It was nearly dark when they went up to the
house. Bud Bailey swung his baskets over the







ANN S OWN WAY


fence and turned to help the girls, but after
his unfortunate speech to Ann, she scorned his
gallantries. Scrambling to the top rail by her-
self at a little distance from his proffered hand,
she poised an instant, and then sprang lightly
down. Unfortunately, she had not looked
before she leaped. Bud's basket was in the
way, and both feet sank into a great pulpy mass
of wild grapes, that instantly squirted their
streams of purple juice all over her light shoes.
They were splotched and dyed so deeply that
no amount of rubbing could ever wipe away
Ithe ugly stains. They were hopelessly ruined.
Alas for the Princess Emeralda, who that
night might have learned her fate in the charm
mirror! It was a Hallowe'en she could never
forget, since its unhappiness was both burned
and dyed into her memory. She sat through
the tea, her feet like hot coals, too miserable
to enjoy anything. Afterwards, when Jennie's
guests began to arrive, she shrank into a cor-
ner, with her dress pulled down far as possible.
It seemed weeks before the carryall was
'driven up to the door, but at last she was
jolting along the frozen road beside Lottie on
the way home. Out in the starlight, within








ANN S OWN WAY


the protecting privacy of her sunbonnet, she
could let fall some of the tears she had been
fighting back so long. Neither of the children
spoke until the carryall turned into the home
lane. Then Lottie cried out: "Oh, Ann!
There's a light in your house. Your mother
must have come back sooner than she expected.
Yes, I cah see Betty at the window watching
for you."
At the gate Ann climbed over the wheel and
then turned to exclaim savagely, I know what
you're thinking, Lottie Fowler, even if you don't
dare say it. You're thinking you're glad that
you are not in my shoes But I've had my own
way, anyhow !" Then with her head high she
marched up the path to the house.
But in spite of her brave speech, when she
reached the door-step, she stopped to wipe her
eyes again on her apron. The carryall drove
away, and still she stood there saying to herself
with a little sob, Oh, I wonder if the Prodigal
Son was half as much ashamed to go home as I
am! "


THE END.








COSY CORNER SERIES
It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall
contain only the very highest and purest literature, -
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them-
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with
them in their joys and sorrows.
The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-
known artists, and each volume has a separate attrac-
tive cover design.
Each I vol., I6mo, cloth 5. 0
By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNiSTON
The Little Colonel. (Trade Mark.)
The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its hero-
ine is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel,
on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school
Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family
are famous in the region.
The Giant Scissors.
This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures
in France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel,
and in later volumes shares with her the delightful ex-
periences of the House Party" and the Holidays."
Two Little Knights of Kentucky.
WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is
not, however, the central figure of the story, that place
being taken by the two little knights."
Mildred's Inheritance.
A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who
comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic
American family who are attracted by her beautiful
speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is en-
abled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the
use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy,
happy one.
B-1







L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON (Continued)
Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles
will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for
young people.

Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.
A collection of six bright little stories, which will
appeal to all boys and most girls.

Big Brother.
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of
Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the
theme of the simple tale.

Ole Mammy's Torment.
"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a
classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mis-
haps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by
love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.

The Story of Dago.
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago,
a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago
tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mis-
haps is both interesting and amusing.

The Quilt That Jack Built.
A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and
how it changed the course of his life many years after
it was accomplished.

Flip's Islands of Providence.
A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his
final triumph, well worth the reading.
B-a








COSY CORNER SERIES

By EDITH ROBINSON
A Little Puritan's First Christmas.
A Story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child
of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.
A Little Daughter of Liberty.
The author introduces this story as follows:
One ride is memorable in the early history of the
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another
ride, the ride of Anthony Severn, which was no less
historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
A Loyal Little Maid:
A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler,
renders important services to George Washington.
A Little Puritan Rebel.
This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the
time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of
Massachusetts.
A Little Puritan Pioneer.
The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settle-
inent at Charlestown.
A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great
interest to youthful readers.
A Little Puritan Cavalier.
The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried
with all lis boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and
ideals of the dead Crusaders.
A Puritan Knight Errant.
The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who
endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights
of olden days.
B-3







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By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramee)
A Dog of Flanders: A CHRISTMAS STORY.
Too well and favorably known to require description.
The Nurnberg Stove.
This beautiful story has never before been published
at a popular price.
By FRANCES MARGARET FOX
The Little Giant's Neighbours.
A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose
night )rs were the creatures of the field and garden.
Farmer Brown and the Birds.
A little story which teaches children that the birds are
man's best friends.
Betty of Old Mackinaw.
A charming story of child-life.
Brother Billy.
The story of Betty's brother, and some further adven-
tures of Betty herself.
Mother Nature's Little Ones.
Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or
childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.
How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.
A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children,
with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief.
The Country Christmas.
Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that
made the occasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and
the funny things the children did in their new environ-
ment.
B-4








COSY CORNER SERIES

By MISS MULOCK
The Little Lame Prince.
A delightful story of a little boy who has many ad-
ventures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy god-
mother.
Adventures of a Brownie.
The story of a household elf who torments the cook
and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the
children who love and trust him.
His Little Mother.
Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant
source of delight to them, and His Little Mother," in
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
of youthful readers.
Little Sunshine's Holiday.
An attractive story of a summer outing. Little Sun-
shine is another of those beautiful child-characters for
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.
By MARSHALL SAUNDERS
For His Country.
A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved
his country; written with that charm which has endeared
Miss Saunders to hosts of readers.
Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter.
In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how
dear to her heart are all of God's dumb creatures.
Alpatok, the Story of an Eskimo
Dog.
Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen
from his master and left to starve in a strange city, but
was befriended and cared for, until he was able to re-
turn to his owner.







L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S

By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE
The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.
This story, written by the gifted young Southern
woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of
the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style.

The Fortunes of the Fellow.
Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm
of The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow" will welcome
the further account of the adventures of Baydaw and
the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith.

The Best of Friends.
This continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog and
his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole's well-known
charming style.

Down in Dixie.
A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of
Alabama children who move to Florida and grow up in
the South.


By MARIAN W. WILDMAN
Loyalty Island.
An account of the adventures of four children and
their pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their
brother from the suspicion of dishonesty.

Theodore and Theodora.
This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mis
chievous twins, and continues the adventures of the
interesting group of children in Loyalty Island."







COSY CORNER SERIES
By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS
The Cruise of the Yacht Dido.
The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a
fishing boat to earn money.
The Young Acadian.
The story of a young lad of Acadia who rescued a little
English girl from the hands of savages.
The Lord of the Air.
THE STORY OF THE EAGLE
The King of the Mamozekel.
THE STORY OF THE MOOSE
The Watchers of the Camp-fire.
THE STORY OF THE PANTHER
The Haunter of the Pine Gloom.
THE STORY OF THE LYNX
The Return to the Trails.
THE STORY OF THE BEAR
The Little People of the Sycamore.
THE STORY OF THE RACCOON
By JULIANA HORATIA EWING
Story of a Short Life.
This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old.
It is a part of the world's literature, and will never die.
Jackanapes.
A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite
and touching story, dear alike to young and old.
A Great Emergency.
A bright little story of a happy, mischievous family
of children.
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By OTHER AUTHORS

The Great Scoop.
By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL
A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a
bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon.
John Whopper.
By BISHOP CLARK
The late Bishop Clark's popular story of the boy who
fell through the earth and came out in China, with a new
introduction by Bishop Potter.

Rab and His Friends.
By DR. JOHN BROWN
Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known
to need description. The dog Rab is already known and
loved by all.

The Sleeping Beauty: A MODERN VERSION.
By MARTHA B. DUNN
This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine,
intellectually "asleep" until she meets the "Fairy
Prince," reminds us of Ouida at her best.
Susanne.
By FRANCES J. DELANO
Susanne is the story of a motherless little girl with
wonderful voice, who is taken to the city to be educated
by a rich aunt, but runs away from the city and returns
home.

A Child's Dream of a Star.
By CHARLES DICKENS.
One of those beautiful, fanciful little allegories which
Dickens alone knew how to write.
B-8








COSY CORNER SERIES

The Dole Twins.
By KATE UPSON CLARK
The adventures of two little people who tried to earn
money to buy crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent
description of child-life about r812, which will greatly
interest and amuse the children of to-day, whose life is
widely different.
Larry Hudson's Ambition.
By JAMES OTIS, author of "TobyTyler," etc.
Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard
work and enterprise gain him his ambition, an educa-
tion and a start in the world.
The Little Christmas Shoe.
By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF
A touching story of Yule-tide.
Wee Dorothy.
By LAURA UPDEGRAFF
A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion
of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and
setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the
story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether
wholesome in every way.
The King of the Golden River: A
LEGEND OF STIRIA. ByJOHNRUSKIN
Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally
intended for publication, this little fairy-tale soon be-
came known and made a place for itself.
A Child's Garden of Verses.
By R. L. STEVENSON
Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to
need description.
B-9








THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES
The most delightful and interesting accounts possible
of child life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings
and adventures.
Each one vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six
or more full-page illustrations in color.
Price per volume .. $0.60
By MARY HAZELTON WADE unless -otherwise
indicated


Our Little African Cousin
Our Little Alaskan Cousin
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
Our Little Arabian Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little Armenian Cousin
Our Little Australian Cousin
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
Our Little Brazilian Cousin
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
Our Little Brown Cousin
Our Little Canadian Cousin
By Elizabeth R. Macdonald
Our Little Chinese .Cousin
By Isaac Taylor Headland
Our Little Cuban Cousin
Our Little Dutch Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little Egyptian Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little English Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little Eskimo Cousin
Our Little French Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little German Cousin
Our Little Grecian Cousin
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
B-10


Our Little Hawaiian Cousin
Our Little Hindu Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little Indian Cousin
Our Little Irish Cousin
Our Little Italian Cousin
Our Little Japanese Cousin
Our Little Jewish Cousin
Our Little Korean Cousin
By H. Lee M. Pike
Our Little Mexican Cousin
By Edward C. Butler
Our Little Norwegian Cousin
Our Little Panama Cousin
By H. Lee M. Pike
Our Little Philippine Cousin
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin
Our Little Russian Cousin
Our Little Scotch Cousin
By Blanche McManus
Our Little Siamese Cousin
Our Little Spanish Cousin
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
Our Little Swedish Cousin
By Claire M. Coburn
Our Little Swiss Cousin
Our Little Turkish Cousin





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