<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2><h3>A DOUBLE KNOT.</h3>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/drop_t.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="T" title="T" /></div>
<div class='unindent'>HE next few days in the High Valley
were too full of excitement and discussions
to be quite comfortable for
anybody. Imogen was seized with compunctions
at leaving Lionel without a housekeeper,
and proposed to Dorry that their wedding
should be deferred till the others were ready
to be married also,—a suggestion to which
Dorry would not listen for a moment. There
were long business-talks between the ranch
partners as to hows and whens, letters to be
written, and innumerable confabulations between
the three sisters, in which Imogen took
part, for she counted as a fourth sister now.
Clover and Elsie listened and planned and
advised, and found their chief difficulty to
consist in hiding and keeping in the background<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></SPAN></span>
their unfeigned and flattering joy
over the whole arrangement. It made matters
so delightfully easy all round to have
Imogen engaged to Dorry, and it was so
much to their own individual advantage to
exchange her for Johnnie that they really
dared not express their delight too openly.</div>
<p>The great question with all was how papa
would take the announcement, and whether
he could be induced to carry out his half
promise of leaving Burnet and coming to live
with them in the Valley. They waited anxiously
for his reply to the letters. It came
by telegraph two days before they had dared
to hope for it, and was as follows:—</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>God bless you all four! Genesis xliii. 14.</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">P. Carr.</span><br/></div>
</div>
<p>This Biblical addition nearly broke John's
heart. Her sisters had to comfort her
with all manner of hopeful auguries and
promises.</p>
<p>"He'll be glad enough over it in time,"
they told her. "Think what it would have<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></SPAN></span>
been if you had been going to marry a Californian,
or a man with an orange plantation
in Florida. He'll see that it's all for the best
as soon as he gets out here, and he <i>must</i>
come. Johnnie, you must never let him off.
Don't take 'no' for an answer. It is so important
to us all that he should consent."</p>
<p>They primed her with persuasive messages
and arguments, and both Clover and Elsie
wrote him a long letter on the subject. On
the very eve of the departure came a second
telegram. Telegrams were not every-day
things in the High Valley, the nearest "wire"
being at the Ute Hotel five miles away; and
the arrival of the messenger on horseback
created a momentary panic.</p>
<p>This telegram was also from Dr. Carr. It
was addressed to Johnnie,—</p>
<div class="blockquot"><p>Following just received: "Miss Inches died to-day
of pneumonia." No particulars.</p>
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">P. Carr.</span><br/></div>
</div>
<p>It was a great shock to poor Johnnie. She
and "Mamma Marian," as she still called her
god-mother, had been warm friends always;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></SPAN></span>
they corresponded regularly; Johnnie had
made her several long visits at Inches Mills,
and she had written to her among the first
with the news of her engagement.</p>
<p>"She never got it. She never will know
about Lionel," she kept repeating mournfully.
"And now I can never tell her about any of
my plans, and she would have been so pleased
and interested. She always cared so much
for what I cared about, and I hoped she would
come out here for a long visit some day, and
see you all. Oh dear, oh dear! what a sad
ending to our happy time!"</p>
<p>"Not an ending, only an interruption," put
in the comforting Clover. But John for a
time could not be consoled, and the party
broke up under a cloud, literal as well as
metaphorical, for the first snow-storm was
drifting over the plain as they drove down
the pass, the melting flakes instantly drunk
up by the sand; all the soft blue of distance
had vanished, and a gray mist wrapped
the mountain tops. The High Valley was in
temporary eclipse, its brightness and sparkle
put by for the moment.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>But nothing could long eclipse the sunshine
of such youthful hearts and hopes. Before
long John's letters grew cheerful again, and
presently she wrote to announce a wonderful
piece of news.</p>
<p>"Something very strange has happened,"
she began. "I am an heiress! It is just like
the girls in books! Yesterday came a letter
from a firm of lawyers in Boston with a long
document enclosed. It was an extract from
Mamma Marian's will; and only think,—she
has left me a legacy of thirty thousand dollars!
Dear thing! and she never knew about
my engagement either, or how wonderfully
it was going to help in our plans. She just
did it because she loved me. 'To Joanna
Inches Carr, my namesake and child by affection,'
the will says; and I think it pleases me
as much as having the money. That frightens
me a little, it seems so much. At first I
did not like to take it, and felt as if I might
be robbing some one else; but papa says that
she had no very near relations, and that I need
not hesitate. Oh, my darling Clover, is it not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></SPAN></span>
wonderful? Now Lion and I need not wait
two years, unless <i>he</i> prefers it, and can just
go on and make our plans happily to suit
ourselves and all of you,—and I shall love
to think that we owe it all to dear Mamma
Marian; only it will be a sore spot always
that she never got the letter telling of our
engagement. It came just after she died, and
they returned it to me.</p>
<p>"Ned has his orders at last. He goes to
sea in April, and Katy writes to papa that she
will come and spend a year with him if he
likes, while Ned is away. But papa won't
be here. He has quite decided, I think, to
leave Burnet and make his home for the future
with us in the High Valley. Three different
physicians have already offered to buy
out his practice, and it is arranged that Dorry
shall rent the old house of him, and the furniture
too, except the books and a few special
things which papa wishes to keep. He is
going to write to you about the building of
what he is pleased to call 'a separate shanty;'
but please don't let the shanty be really separate;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></SPAN></span>
he must be in with all of us somehow,
or we shall never be satisfied. Did Lionel
decide to move the Hutlet? Of course Katy
will spend her year in the Valley instead of
Burnet. I am beginning to get my little
trousseau together, and have set up a 'wedding
bureau' to put the things in; but it is
no fun at all without any sisters at home to
help and sympathize. I am the only one who
has had to get ready to be married all by
herself. If Katy were not coming in two
months I should be quite desperate. The
chief thing on my mind is how to arrange
about the two weddings with the family so
scattered as it is."</p>
<p>This difficulty was settled by Clover a little
later. Both the weddings she proposed should
take place in the Valley.</p>
<p>"It is a case of Mahomet and mountain,"
she wrote. "Look at it dispassionately. You
and papa and Katy and Dorry have got to
come out here any way,—the rest of us <i>are</i>
here; and it is clearly impossible that all of us
should go on to Burnet to see you married,—though<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></SPAN></span>
if you persist some of us will, inconvenient
and expensive as it would be.
But just consider what a picturesque and romantic
place the Valley is for a wedding, with
the added advantage that you would be absolutely
the first people who were ever married
in it since the creation of the world! I won't
say what may happen in the remote future,
for Rose Red writes that she is going to
change its name and call it henceforward
'The Ararat Valley,' not only because it
contains 'a few souls, that is eight,' but also
because all the creatures who go into it seem
to enter pell-mell and come out two by two
in pairs. You will inaugurate the long procession
at all events! Do please think seriously
of this, dear John. 'Consider, cow,
consider,—' and write me that you consent.</p>
<p>"We are building papa the most charming
little bungalow ever seen,—a big library and
two bedrooms, one for himself and one to
spare. It is just off the southwest corner,
and a little covered way connects it with our<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></SPAN></span>
piazza; for we are quite decided that he is to
take his meals with us and not have the bother
of independent housekeeping. Then if you
decide to put <i>your</i> bungalow on the other
side of his, as we hope you will, we shall all
be close together. Lion will do nothing about
the building till you come. You are to stay
on indefinitely with us, and oversee the
whole thing yourself from the driving of
the first nail. We will all help, and won't
it be fun?</p>
<p>"There is something very stately and comforting
in the idea of a 'resident physician.'
Elsie declares that now Phillida may have
croup or any other infant disease she likes,
and I sha'n't lie awake at night to wonder
what we should do in case Geoffey was
thrown from the burro and broke a bone. I
am not sure but we may yet attain to the dignity
of a 'resident pastor' as well, for Geoff
has decided not to move the Hutlet, but leave
it as it is, putting in a little simple furniture,
and offer it from time to time to some invalid
clergyman who needs Colorado air and would<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></SPAN></span>
be glad to spend a few months in the Valley.
Who knows but it may grow some day into
a little church? Then indeed we should have
a small world of our own, with the learned
professions all represented; for of course Phil
by that time will be qualified to do our law
for us, in case we quarrel and require writs
and replevins or habeas corpuses, or any last
wills and testaments drawn up.</p>
<p>"I have begun on new curtains for Katy's
room already, and Elsie and I have all manner
of beautiful projects for the weddings.
Now Johnnie darling, write at once and say
that you agree to this plan. It really does
seem a perfect one for everybody. The time
must of course depend on when Dorry can
get his leave, but we will be all ready whenever
it comes."</p>
<p>Clover's arguments were unanswerable, and
every one gradually gave in to the plan which
she had so much at heart. Dorry got a
fortnight's holiday, beginning on the 15th of
June; so the twentieth was fixed as the day
for the double wedding, and the preparations<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></SPAN></span>
went merrily on. Early in May Katy arrived
in Burnet; and after that Johnnie had
no need to complain of being unsistered, for
Katy was a host in herself, and gave all her
time to helping everybody. She sewed and
finished, she packed and advised, she assisted
to box her father's books, and went with
Dorry to choose the new papers and rugs
which were to make the old house freshly
bright for Imogen; she exclaimed and rejoiced
over each wedding present that arrived, and
supplied that sweet atmosphere of mutual
interest and sympathy which is the vital
breath of a family occasion. All was ready
in time; the old home was in exact and perfect
order for its new mistress, the good-bys
were said, and on the morning of the fifteenth
the party started for Colorado.</p>
<p>Quite a little group waited for them on
the platform of the St. Helen's station three
days later. Lionel had of course come in to
meet his bride, and Imogen her bridegroom;
and Geoff had come, and Clover, to meet her
father and Katy, and Phil was also in waiting.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></SPAN></span>
It was truly a wonderful moment when the
train drew up, and Johnnie, all beautiful in
smiles and dimples, encountered Lionel; while
Dorry jumped out to greet Imogen, who was
in blooming health again, and very pleased
to see him.</p>
<p>"We have brought the two carryalls,"
Clover explained. "Geoff got a new one
the other day, that the means of transportation
may keep pace with the increase of
population, as he says. I think, Geoff, we
will put the brides and bridegrooms together
in the new one. Then the 'echoes' from
the back seat can mix with the 'echoes'
from the front seat; and it will be as good
as the East Canyon, and they will all feel
at home."</p>
<p>So it was arranged, and the party started.</p>
<p>"Katy," cried Clover, looking at her sister
with eyes that seemed to drink her in,
"I had forgotten quite how dear you are!
It seems to me that you have grown handsome,
my child; or is it only that you are
a little fatter?"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I am afraid the latter," replied Katy,
with a laugh. "No one but Ned was ever
so deluded as to call me handsome."</p>
<p>"Where is Ned? It is such a <i>shame</i> that
he can't be here,—the only one of the
family missing!"</p>
<p>"He is on his way to China," said Katy,
with a little suppressed sigh. "Yes, it is
too bad; but it can't be helped. Naval orders
are like time and tide, and wait for
no man, and most of all for no woman."
She paused a moment, and changed the subject
abruptly. "Did I tell you," she asked,
"that after I broke up at Newport I went
to Rose for a week?"</p>
<p>"Johnnie wrote that you were to go."</p>
<p>"It was such a bright week! Boston
was beautiful, as it always is in spring,
with the Public Garden a blaze of flowers,
and all the pretty country about so
green and sweet! Rose was most delightful;
and I saw ever so many of the old
Hillsover girls, and even had a glimpse of
Mrs. Nipson!"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"That must have been rather a bad joy."</p>
<p>"N—o, not exactly. I was rather glad,
on the whole, to meet her again. She isn't
as bad as we made her out. School-girls
are almost always unjust to their teachers."</p>
<p>"Oh, come, now," said Clover, making a
little face. "This is a happy occasion, certainly,
and I am in a benignant frame of
mind, but really I can't stand having you
so horridly charitable. 'There is no virtue,
madam, in a mush of concession.' Mrs.
Nipson was an unpleasant old thing,—so
there! Let us talk of something else. Tell
me about your visit to Cousin Helen."</p>
<p>"Oh, that was a sweet visit all through.
I stayed ten days, and she was better than
usual, it seemed to me. Did I write about
little Helen's ball?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"She is just nineteen, and it was her
first dance. Such a pretty creature, and
so pleased and excited about it! and Cousin
Helen was equally so. She gave Helen her
dress complete, down to the satin shoes,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></SPAN></span>
and the fan and the long gloves, and a turquoise
necklace, and turquoise pins for her
hair. You never saw anything so charming
as the way in which she enjoyed it.
You would have supposed that Helen was
her own child, as she lay on the sofa, with
such bright beaming eyes, while the pretty
thing turned round and round to exhibit
her finery."</p>
<p>"There certainly never was any one like
Cousin Helen. She is embodied sympathy,"
said Clover. "Now, Katy, I want you to
look. We are just turning into our own
road."</p>
<p>It was a radiant afternoon, with long,
soft shadows alternating with golden sunshine,
and the High Valley was at its very
best as they slowly climbed the zigzag pass.
With every turn and winding Katy's pleasure
grew; and when they rounded the last
curve, and came in sight of the little group
of buildings, with their picturesque background
of forest and the splendid peak soaring
above, she exclaimed with delight:<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></SPAN></span>—</p>
<p>"What a perfect situation! Clover, you
never said enough about it! Surely the
half was not told me, as the Queen of Sheba
remarked! Oh, and there is Elsie on the
porch, and that thing in white beside her
is Phillida! I never dreamed she could be
so large! How glad I am that I didn't
die of measles when I was little, as dear
Rose Red used to say."</p>
<p>Katy's coming was the crowning pleasure
of the occasion to all, but most of all to
Clover. To have her most intimate sister
in her own home, and be able to see her
every day and all day long, and consult and
advise and lay before her the hopes and
intentions and desires of her heart, which
she could never so fully share with any
one else, except Geoff, was a delight which
never lost its zest, and of which Clover
never grew weary.</p>
<p>To settle Dr. Carr in his new quarters
was another pleasure, in which they all took
equal part. When his books and microscopes
were unpacked, and the Burnet belongings<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></SPAN></span>
arranged pretty much in their old order, the
rooms looked wonderfully homelike, even
to him. The children soon learned to adore
him, as children always had done; the only
trouble was that they fought for the possession
of his knee, and would never willingly
have left him a moment for himself.
His leisure had to be protected by a series
of nursery laws and penances, or he would
never have had any; but he said he liked
the children better than the leisure. He
was born to be a grandfather; nobody told
stories like him, or knew so well how to
please and pacify and hit the taste of little
people.</p>
<p>But all this, of course, came subsequently
to the double wedding, which took place
two days after the arrival of the home-party.
The morning of the twentieth was
unusually fine, even for Colorado,—fair,
cloudless, and golden bright, as if ordered
for the occasion,—without a cloud on the
sky from dawn to sunset. The ceremony
was performed by a clergyman from Portland,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></SPAN></span>
who with his invalid wife were settled
in the Hutlet for the summer, very
glad of the pleasant little home offered
them, and to escape from the crowd and
confusion of Mrs. Marsh's boarding-house,
where Geoff had found them. Two or
three particular friends drove out from St.
Helen's; but with that exception the whole
wedding was "valley-made," as Elsie declared,
including delicious raspberry ice-cream,
and an enormous cake, over which
she and Clover had expended much time
and thought, and which, decorated with emblematical
designs in icing and wreathed
with yucca-blossoms, stood in the middle
of the table.</p>
<p>The ceremony took place at noon precisely,
when, as Phil facetiously observed,
"the shadows of the high contracting parties
could never be less." There was little that
was formal about it, but much that was reverent
and sweet and full of true feeling.
Imogen and Johnnie had both agreed to
wear white muslin dresses, very much such<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></SPAN></span>
dresses as they were all accustomed to wear
on afternoons; but Imogen had on her head
her mother's wedding-veil, which had been
sent out from England, and John wore
Katy's, "for luck," as she said. Both carried
a big bouquet of Mariposa lilies, and
the house was filled with the characteristic
wild-flowers of the region most skilfully and
effectively grouped and arranged.</p>
<p>A hospitably hearty luncheon followed
the ceremony, of which all partook; then
Imogen went away to put on her pretty
travelling-suit of pale brown, and the carry-all
came round to take Mr. and Mrs. Theodore
Carr to St. Helen's, which was the first
stage on their journey of life.</p>
<p>The whole party stood on the porch to
see them go. Imogen's last word and embrace
were for Clover.</p>
<p>"We are sisters now," she whispered. "I
belong to you just as much as Isabel does,
and I am so glad that I do! Dear Clover,
you have been more good to me than I can
say, and I shall never forget it."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Nonsense about being good! You are
my Dorry's wife now, and our own dear
sister. There is no question about goodness,—only
to love one another."</p>
<p>She kissed Imogen warmly, and helped
her into the carriage. Dorry sprang after
her; the wheels revolved; and Phil, seizing
a horseshoe which hung ready to hand on
the wall of the house, flung it after the
departing vehicle.</p>
<p>"It's more appropriate than any other
sort of old shoe for this Place of Hoofs,"
he observed. "Well, the Carr family are
certainly pretty well disposed of now. I am
'the last ungathered rose on my ancestral
tree.' I wonder who will tear me from my
stem!"</p>
<p>"You can afford to hang on a while
longer," remarked Elsie. "I don't consider
you fairly expanded yet, by any means.
You'll be twice as well worth gathering a
few years from now."</p>
<p>"Oh, very fine!—years indeed! Why, I
shall be a seedy old bachelor! That would<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></SPAN></span>
never do! And Amy Ashe, whom I have
had in my eye ever since she was in pinafores,
will be married to some other fellow!"</p>
<p>"Don't set your heart on Amy," said
Katy. "She's not seventeen yet; and I
don't think her mother has any idea of
having her made into <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Ashe-s'">Ashes</ins> of Roses so
early!"</p>
<p>"There's no harm in having a girl in
one's eye," retorted Phil, disconsolately. "I
declare, you all look so contented and so
satisfied with yourselves and one another,
that it's enough to madden a fellow, left
out, as I am, in the cold! I shall go back
to St. Helen's with Dr. and Mrs. Hope."</p>
<p>The others, left to themselves in their
happy loneliness, gathered together in the
big room after the last guest had gone.
Geoff touched a match to the ready-laid
fire; Clover wheeled an armchair forward
for her father, and sat down beside him
with her arm on his knee; John and
Lionel took possession of a big sofa.</p>
<p>"Now let us enjoy ourselves," said Clover.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></SPAN></span>
"The world is shut out, we are shut in;
there are none to molest and make us afraid;
and, please Heaven, there is a whole, long,
happy year before us! I never did suppose
anything so perfectly perfect could happen
to us all as this. Now, papa,—dear papa,—just
say that you like it as much as we
all do."</p>
<p>Elsie perched herself on the arm of her
father's chair; Katy stood behind, stroking
his hair. Dr. Carr held out his hand to
Johnnie, who ran across the room, knelt
down, caught it in both hers, and fondly
laid her cheek upon it.</p>
<p>"I like it <i>quite</i> as much as you do," he
said. "Where my girls are is the place for
me; and I am going to be the most contented
old gentleman in America for the
rest of my days."</p>
<h3>THE END</h3>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></SPAN></span></p>
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<h2>OLD ROUGH THE MISER.</h2>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/divider.png" width-obs="200" height-obs="16" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<p>By <span class="smcap">Lily F. Wesselhœft</span>, author of "Sparrow the Tramp,"
"Flipwing the Spy," "The Winds, the Woods, and the Wanderer."
With twenty-one illustrations by J. F. Goodridge. Square
16mo, cloth, $1.25.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad02.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="388" alt="OLD ROUGH THE MISER." title="" /> <span class="caption">OLD ROUGH THE MISER.</span></div>
<p>Mrs. Wesselhœft's "Fable Stories" are proving themselves more and
more acceptable to the children. "Old Rough" is a decided acquisition
to the series.</p>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<p><i>Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the publishers,</i></p>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class='center'><span class='u'><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></span></div>
<h2><span class="smcap"><span class="u">In My Nursery.</span></span></h2>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad03.png" width-obs="308" height-obs="350" alt=""The baby he may be a soldier."" title="" /> <span class="caption">"The baby he may be a soldier."</span></div>
<div class='center'><i>A BOOK OF RHYMES</i><br/>
<i>FOR</i><br/>
<i>YOUNG FOLKS.</i><br/>
—————<br/>
BY<br/>
<span class="smcap">Laura E. Richards</span>.</div>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"What a beautiful book! How fine are the illustrations! How pure and sweet are
these rhymes!" Grandpa bought the book, and Dot was delighted with her present.
So is mamma. She says the stories are as good as she could make them herself. If
you want just the daintiest book of the season, get this. Don't be put off with something
common. This beats "Mother Goose" and all the old nursery books all to
pieces. It contains a great deal of sense, just a little nonsense, and sparkles with fun,
which all the household will relish. This is better than forty dolls, because the dolls
usually can't talk, but this can.—<i>Illustrated Christian Weekly.</i></p>
<p>This is a charming collection of nursery ballads, full of lively nonsense and quaint
conceits, such as appeal to childish imaginations. The merry rhymes and grotesque
illustrations make each other doubly effective. No better book since "Mother
Goose" than this for reading to children, who will cry, "Again, again," and will
never tire of its felicitous jingles. It is dedicated to "My mother, Julia Ward
Howe."—<i>Boston Woman's Journal.</i></p>
<p>The rhymes and jingles in this little volume are very genuine products, for they
have every sign of being what many nursery rhymes are not, songs which have stood
the critical test of a house full of children of different ages and varying temperaments
and been approved. Mrs. Richards has a natural gift of striking the whimsical without
rising above the comprehension of young people, nor on the other hand, falling
into the strained or the commonplace.—<i>New York Times.</i></p>
<p>It is like getting a new and greatly enlarged sequel to dear old "Mother Goose"
to take up Mrs. Laura E. Richards's pretty book. She knows how to be funny
without being silly; her rhymes are lively and jingle merrily on the ear; the odd
fancies and quaint imagery are just of the sort to entertain very young children.
"In My Nursery" may be heartily commended as an almost inexhaustible store
house of amusement for little girls and boys.—<i>The Boston Beacon.</i></p>
</div>
<p>One handsome small quarto volume, bound in cloth. Price, $1.25.</p>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<p><i>Sold everywhere. Mailed, postpaid, by the publishers</i>,</p>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class='u'><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></span></div>
<h2>THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED.</h2>
<div class="hang1">A Story. By Miss A. G. Plympton, author of "Dear
Daughter Dorothy" and "Betty, a Butterfly." Illustrated
by the author. Small 4to. Cloth. Price
$1.00.</div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad04.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="372" alt="The Little Sister of Wilifred" title="" /></div>
<div class="blockquot"><p>The author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy" needs no passport to favor.
That bewitching little story which she not only wrote but illustrated must
have given the name of A. G. Plympton a notable place among the writers
of children's stories. Followed by "Betty, a Butterfly" and now by
"The Little Sister of Wilifred," we have a most interesting trio with
which to adorn a child's library.—<i>Boston Times.</i></p>
</div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<p><i>Sold by all booksellers; mailed, post-paid, by the publishers</i>,</p>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class='u'>SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.</span></div>
<h2>A GUERNSEY LILY;</h2>
<h4>OR,</h4>
<h3>HOW THE FEUD WAS HEALED.</h3>
<h3><b>A Story for Girls and Boys.</b></h3>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad05.png" width-obs="425" height-obs="291" alt="The Guernsey Lily" title="" /></div>
<div class='center'>
BY<br/>
SUSAN COOLIDGE,<br/>
<i>Author of "What Katy Did," "Clover," "In the High Valley," etc.</i><br/></div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<div class='center'>
NEW EDITION. Square 16mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.25.<br/></div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<div class='center'>
<big>ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.</big><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class='u'><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></span></div>
<h2>A LOST HERO.</h2>
<div class="hang1"><span class="u"><span class="smcap">By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward and Herbert
D. Ward.</span> With 30 illustrations by Frank
T. Merrill. Small quarto. Cloth. Price, $1.50.</span><br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad06.png" width-obs="375" height-obs="191" alt="A Lost Hero" title="" /></div>
<div class="blockquot"><p>The lost hero was a poor old negro who saved the Columbia
express from destruction at the time of the Charleston earthquake,
and vanished from human ken after his brave deed was accomplished,
swallowed up, probably, in some yawning crevice of the
envious earth. The story is written with that simplicity which is
the perfection of art, and its subtle pathos is given full and eloquent
expression. But noble as the book is, viewed as a literary
performance, it owes not a little of its peculiar attractiveness to
the illustrations with which it is now adorned after drawings by
Frank T. Merrill.—<i>The Beacon.</i></p>
</div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<div class='sig'>
<div style="margin-right: 2em;">ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>,</div>
<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 15em;">BOSTON, MASS.</span><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class='u'><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></span><br/>
<i>By the author of "Dear Daughter Dorothy."</i></div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<h2>BETTY, A BUTTERFLY.</h2>
<h3>By A. G. PLYMPTON.</h3>
<div class='center'>With illustrations by the author.<br/>
<br/>
<b>Square 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00.</b><br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad07.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="349" alt=""AM I NOT FINE?"" title="" /> <span class="caption">"AM I NOT FINE?"</span></div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<div class='hang1'><i>Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed by the Publishers on
receipt of the price.</i></div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class="u"><i>MRS. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'WESSELHOEFT'S'">WESSELHŒFT'S</ins> STORIES.</i></span><br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad08.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="501" alt="The Winds, the Woods and the Wanderer" title="" /></div>
<div class='center'><span class="u">THE WINDS, THE WOODS, AND THE WANDERER.</span></div>
<div class="blockquot"><p>A Fable for Children. By <span class="smcap">Lily F. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Wesselhoeft'">Wesselhœft</ins></span>, author of
"Sparrow, The Tramp," and "Flipwing, the Spy." With illustrations.
16mo, cloth. Price, $1.25.</p>
</div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<div class='center'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Publishers, Boston</span>.</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class='u'><i>Roberts Brothers' Juvenile Books.</i></span></div>
<h2><span class="smcap">Dear Daughter Dorothy.</span></h2>
<div class='center'><i>BY MISS A. G. PLYMPTON.</i></div>
<div class='center'>
With seven illustrations by the author. Small 4to. Cloth<br/>
<br/>
PRICE, $1.00.<br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad09.png" width-obs="350" height-obs="275" alt="DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY." title="" /> <span class="caption">DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY.</span></div>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"The child is father of the man."—so Wordsworth sang; and here is a jolly
story of a little girl who was her father's mother in a very real way. There were
hard lines for him, and she was fruitful of devices to help him along, even having
an auction of the pretty things that had been given her from time to time, and
realizing a neat little sum. Then her father was accused of peculation; and she,
sweetly ignorant of the ways of justice, went to the judge and labored with him,
to no effect, though he was wondrous kind. Then in court she gave just the
wrong evidence, because it showed how poor her father was, and so established a
presumption of his great necessity and desperation. But the <i>Deus ex machina</i>—the
wicked partner—arrived at the right moment, and owned up, and the good
father was cleared, and little Daughter Dorothy was made glad. But this meagre
summary gives but a poor idea of the ins and outs of this charming story, and no
idea of the happy way in which it is told.—<i>Christian Register.</i></p>
</div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.<br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><i>By the Author of "Jolly Good Times."</i></div>
<h2>THEIR CANOE TRIP.</h2><h3>By MARY P. W. SMITH,</h3>
<div class='center'>
AUTHOR OF THE "BROWNS."<br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad10.png" width-obs="310" height-obs="450" alt="Their Canoe Trip" title="" /></div>
<p>A story founded on the actual experiences of two Roxbury boys, during
canoe trip on the Concord, Merrimac, Piscataquog, and other rivers.</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25.</i><br/></div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></SPAN></span></p>
<h2>PRINCE VANCE.</h2>
<div class='hang1'>
<b>A Story of a Prince with a Court in His Box.</b> By <span class="smcap">Eleanor
Putnam</span> and <span class="smcap">Arlo Bates</span>. Illustrated by Frank Myrick.<br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad11.png" width-obs="379" height-obs="500" alt="Prince Vance" title="" /></div>
<p><i>"Prince Vance" is an Entertaining Fairy Story of the wildest and most
fantastic adventures and of amusing and original impossibilities, which,
however, carry with them a stern puritan moral. This allegiance of unfettered
imagination and straightforward, wholesome, moral teaching is
unusual, and gives the little book a special value.</i></p>
<div class='center'>
Small 4to. Cloth gilt. Price, $1.50.<br/></div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></SPAN></span></p>
<h2>FLIPWING, THE SPY.</h2><h3><b>A Story for Children.</b></h3>
<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> LILY F. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'WESSELHOEFT'">WESSELHŒFT</ins>,</h3>
<div class='center'>
<i>Author of "Sparrow, the Tramp," "The Winds, the Woods, and the Wanderer," etc.</i><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad12.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="475" alt="Flipwing, the Spy" title="" /></div>
<p>The story represents the action of certain animals, the characters of which are
depicted in accordance with their natures and the exigencies of the story. The object
is to cultivate the love of animal nature, which most children feel, and especially for
such creatures as bats, toads and others, which children are often improperly taught
to regard with disgust. The human characters introduced talk and act naturally, and
the book will be found very entertaining to young people.</p>
<div class='center'>
<i>16mo. Cloth. Price. $1.25.</i><br/></div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS. <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.<br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><i>Uniform with "The Joyous Story of Toto."</i><br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad13.png" width-obs="382" height-obs="500" alt="Toto's Merry Winter" title="" /></div>
<h2>TOTO'S MERRY WINTER.</h2>
<div class='center'>
<span class="smcap">By LAURA E. RICHARDS.</span><br/>
<br/>
With Illustrations. 16mo. Price, $1.25.<br/></div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, <i>Publishers</i>, <span class="smcap">Boston</span>.</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></SPAN></span></p>
<h2><span class="smcap">Nonsense Books.</span></h2>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad14.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="235" alt=""There was an old Derry down Derry," etc." title="" /> <span class="caption">"There was an old Derry down Derry," etc.</span></div>
<h3>By EDWARD LEAR.</h3>
<div class='center'>
<small>COMPRISING</small><br/>
"A BOOK OF NONSENSE,"<br/>
"NONSENSE SONGS, STORIES," ETC.<br/>
"MORE NONSENSE PICTURES, RHYMES," ETC.<br/>
"LAUGHABLE LYRICS," ETC.<br/></div>
<p>With all the original illustrations. In one square 16mo volume.
Handsome cloth. Price, $2.00.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/divider.png" width-obs="200" height-obs="16" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<div class='center'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers.<br/>
<br/>
<small>BOSTON</small><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class="u"><b>SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR BOOKS.</b></span><br/><br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/ad15.png" width-obs="363" height-obs="475" alt="Not Quite Eighteen" title="" /></div>
<h2><span class="u">NOT QUITE EIGHTEEN.</span></h2>
<div class="hang1">By <span class="smcap">Susan Coolidge</span>, author of "What Katy Did," "The Barberry Bush,"
"A Guernsey Lily," etc. 16mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, $1.25</div>
<div class='center'>—————</div>
<div class='sig'>
ROBERTS BROTHERS. <span class="smcap">Publishers, Boston, Mass.</span><br/></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'><span class='u'><i>Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.</i></span></div>
<h2><span class="smcap">Nelly's Silver Mine.</span></h2>
<div class='center'>
<span class="smcap">By H. H.</span><br/>
<br/>
With Illustrations. 16mo, cloth. Price $1.50.<br/></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/divider.png" width-obs="200" height-obs="16" alt="Divider" title="" /></div>
<div class="blockquot"><p>"The sketches of life, especially of its odd and out-of-the-way aspects, by H. H.
always possess so vivid a reality that they appear more like the actual scenes than
any copy by pencil or photograph. They form a series of living pictures, radiant
with sunlight and fresh as morning dew. In this new story the fruits of her fine
genius are of Colorado growth, and though without the antique flavor of her recollections
of Rome and Venice, are as delicious to the taste as they are tempting to
the eye, and afford a natural feast of exquisite quality."—<i>N. Y. Tribune.</i></p>
<p>"This charming little book, written for children's entertainment and instruction,
is equally delightful to the fathers and mothers. It is life in New England,
and the racy history of a long railway journey to the wilds of Colorado. The
children are neither imps nor angels, but just such children as are found in every
happy home. The pictures are so graphically drawn that we feel well acquainted
with Rob and Nelly, have travelled with them and climbed mountains and found
silver mines, and know all about the rude life made beautiful by a happy family,
and can say of Nelly, with their German neighbor, Mr. Kleesman, 'Ach well, she
haf better than any silver mine in her own self.'"—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean.</i></p>
<p>"In 'Nelly's Silver Mine' Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson has given us a true
classic for the nursery and the school-room, but its readers will not be confined to
any locality. Its vivid portraiture of Colorado life and its truth to child-nature
give it a charm which the most experienced cannot fail to feel. It will stand by
the side of Miss Edgeworth and Mrs. Barbauld in all the years to come."—<i>Mrs.
Caroline H. Dall.</i></p>
<p>"We heartily commend the book for its healthy spirit, its lively narrative, and
its freedom from most of the faults of books for children."—<i>Atlantic Monthly.</i></p>
</div>
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