“You’re just in time for the barn dance, all of you,” called Mrs. Cartwright. “We are going to be informal for the next half hour, at least. Come, Ruth, I insist on you and Hugh leading off. You are our special tennis champions. Wasn’t it hard luck that I didn’t win, when my husband was a judge?”
“Miss Thurston,” said Harry Townsend, turning suddenly to Barbara, “won’t you dance with me?”
Barbara’s hands turned cold as ice and her cheeks suddenly flamed. She hated to dance with a man whom she knew to be of the character of Harry Townsend. Yet how could she refuse?
He looked at her coolly, and Bab saw a mocking smile curl the corners of his lips. But he was as smooth and courteous as usual.
“He is the prince of actors,” thought Bab. “I was a goose to let him see how I felt. I will show him that I know how to act as well as he does, when I am forced to it.”
Barbara accepted the invitation quietly. They took their places with the two long rows of dancers extending down the whole length of the great ballroom.
The barn dance, with its merry, unconventional movement, its swinging music and grace, was generally the greatest joy to Bab. But tonight, in spite of her pretense at acting, her feet lagged. She dared not look into the face of her partner. He was as gay and debonair as usual.
When the dance was over, Townsend asked Bab to walk out on the lawn with him.
As Ruth saw Harry and Barbara walk out at the door, she turned suddenly to the stranger with whom she was talking. “Will you,” she said to him, “tell Ralph Ewing I would like to speak to him at once? I want to tell him something that is very important. Please forgive my asking you, but I must see him. I will wait right here until you find him.” It was five—ten minutes, before Ralph was found.
Harry Townsend meant to discover what Barbara Thurston knew. She was a young girl, still at school. He was a man approaching thirty, with a record behind him of nearly ten years of successful villainy.
Would Barbara betray herself? Would she “give the game away?”
“Miss Thurston,” began Harry Townsend, politely, “as I shall be going away from Newport very soon, I want to have a talk with you. I must confess, that, since the night of Mrs. Erwin’s ball, I have been very angry with you. No high-minded man could endure the suggestion you made against my honor, when you asked Hugh Post to search me, so soon after his mother’s jewels had disappeared. But time has passed, and I do not now feel so wounded. Before I go away, would you mind telling me why you made such an accusation against me?”
“Mr. Townsend,” said Barbara, biting her lips, but keeping cool and collected, “is it necessary for you to ask me why I made such an accusation? If it is, then, I beg your pardon. The jewels were not in your possession, certainly, when the search was made. I own I was most unwise.”
“Then you withdraw the accusation?” Townsend was puzzled. He had expected Barbara to defy him, to insist he had stolen the jewels, that she had seen him in the act of doing it. He was wise enough to know that, if he could once make her angry, she would betray what she knew. He had still to discover who the gypsy was that had so strangely revealed to him her knowledge of his crimes.
Barbara’s heart was beating like a sledgehammer.
There was a slight movement in the nearby shrubbery. Harry Townsend wheeled like a flash. Barbara turned at the same instant. It was only a stranger who had wandered across the lawn and mistaken the path, but Barbara knew that his presence there meant eternal vigilance.
“O Mr. Townsend,” she said, “the music is commencing. I would rather return to the ballroom. I have an engagement for this dance.”
Harry Townsend realized he must manage to entice Barbara to a more secluded part of the Casino grounds before he could have a satisfactory talk with her.
“No,” he said, “we will not go back yet, I want to talk to you. We must understand each other better, before the night is over. Come!” He spoke in a voice as cold and hard as ice and took Barbara by the wrist.
Barbara could not jerk away or call for help. She decided it was best to follow him.
“You are not running away, are you, Miss Thurston?” It was Ralph’s voice calling. “I am sure Mr. Townsend will excuse you, as you have a previous engagement with me.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Harry Townsend, pleasantly, “sorry as I am to lose Miss Thurston’s society.” As Barbara and Ralph walked away, he bit his lips savagely. Then he decided to follow the tall man he had seen moving about in the shrubbery. It might be that the man suspected something. But Townsend found him ten minutes later in the smoking-room, quietly moving around among the men.
“Bab,” Ruth had a chance to whisper to her later in the evening, “is it all right with you? I was desperately frightened when I saw you disappear outside with Harry Townsend. Have you noticed something?”
“What?” said Bab, gazing searchingly about her.
“Only,” Ruth answered, “that the Countess Bertouche is not here this evening.”
Both realized that the first card in the game had been played.
One other person had noticed, with even greater interest than had Ruth and Bab, that the Countess Bertouche had failed to appear at the ball. That person was the jewel thief, Harry Townsend. He was filled with a silent rage. How dared she fail him this night of all others?
All the fellow’s plans were carefully laid. The woman with the jewels he coveted sat in the ballroom; large and slow witted, she would not be quick either to discover her loss or to raise an alarm. And Harry Townsend was on friendly terms with her. Once she decided to leave the brightly lighted halls for the darkness of the grounds outside, lifting the tiara would be an easy matter. But Townsend never kept the jewels he stole in his possession ten minutes after their theft. How was he to get rid of them to-night?
It was after midnight. Many of the guests had withdrawn to the veranda; the lawns were filled with people walking about. Now Harry Townsend stood back of a row of lights that cast a deep shadow. He was talking to some acquaintances. The women were elegantly gowned, and one of them wore a beautiful diamond tiara.
Bab was standing alone in the door of the girls’ dressing-room. Miss Sallie had called her in, after supper, to smooth her hair. The other girls had been with her, but they had returned to join the dancers. Bab was resting and thinking. Mollie and Grace knew nothing of what she and Ruth had on their minds. The younger girls knew that Harry Townsend and the Countess Bertouche were suspected as thieves, but they did not know that the detectives were on the alert, and that the arrest might come to-night.
Barbara was wondering if she ought to tell Gladys Le Baron what she knew. After all, Gladys was her cousin; and, as she had told Ralph, the other day, Bab felt that there ought to be a certain loyalty among people of the same blood, even when they were not fond of one another.
To-night Gladys Le Baron had been more conspicuous with Harry Townsend than ever before. Not only was she seen with him constantly, but she wore an air of conscious pride, as if to say, “See what a prize I have won!”
Gladys had passed Bab two or three times during the evening, but had pretended not to see her. Now she was coming in at the dressing-room door.
“Gladys,” said Bab, timidly.
Gladys turned to her haughtily. “I would rather,” she said, “that you did not speak to me. We cannot have much to say to each other. Harry Townsend told me”—Gladys spoke so passionately and with such deep anger in her tones that Barbara stared at her aghast—“of the accusation you made against him. He made me promise not to speak of it, but I will speak of it to you. I want you to know that I shall never forgive you as long as I live, and that I shall get even with you some day. You are jealous and envious of me because we have more money, and because Harry Townsend likes me. I want you never to talk to me.”
“O Gladys!” said Barbara. She was angry and hurt, but she was more frightened by the real feeling her cousin showed. Did she care for Mr. Townsend so much? Gladys was nearly eighteen, and Bab knew that ever since she was a girl of fourteen she had been brought up to think she was a young lady.
“Gladys,” said Bab, firmly, “listen to me! Be quiet. I cannot tell you what I wish to say in this ballroom, to-night, among all these people, but I have something to tell you that you simply must know. Do you understand? Come to my house in the morning, and don’t fail.” Barbara’s tones were so new and commanding that Gladys could only stare at her in silent amazement.
“Yes,” she said, meekly; “I will come.”
Bab’s eyes were burning, and her cheeks stung with the shame of the scene between herself and Gladys. In order to be alone in the fresh air, she slipped out of the dressing-room door which opened into a side yard. This yard had a double hedge of althea bushes which led into the back part of the Casino grounds. At the same instant that Bab left the dressing-room door, a man passed her on the other side of the hedge. He was going into the back part of the garden.
The show grounds of the Casino were in a central court. In the rear, back of the kitchens, was a long arbor covered with heavy grapevines. The man Bab followed slipped into this arbor.
When Barbara glanced into it a second later—she dared not move quickly, for fear of making a noise—there was no human figure in sight. “He has gone on down through the arbor and slipped over the fence,” she thought to herself.
She was feeling her way along, trying to keep in the center path. The night was dark, and there were few stars overhead.
Suddenly, Bab gave a little shriek of terror and started back. Crouching in the darkness was a man. His back was turned to Barbara, and, if the darkness was not deceiving her, he was digging in the earth.
But Barbara’s shriek roused him. “You, again!” he cried. He leaped at her, and, before she could call for help, his hand covered her mouth, and her head was pressed back.
“Don’t make a noise,” another voice said quietly. “My instructions were not to make a scene.”
Townsend felt his own arms seized and drawn down to his sides. The big, blond man, who had interrupted his tête-à-tête with Barbara earlier in the evening, was again by his side. A smaller, dark man stood near him.
“Well, we have got you this time with the goods on you, or pretty close to you,” said the smaller detective, striking a match and looking down at his feet. Just near where they stood, only partially concealed by the dirt, which had been hastily dug up, something brilliant flashed and sparkled.
“Did you think, Mr. Townsend,” laughed Detective Burton quietly, “that you were the only clever person in Newport? These jewels you have just stolen are hardly worth the risk you ran. You might get about twenty-five dollars for the lot. I suppose you didn’t know, since it has become the fashion to have a jewel thief in Newport, it has also become the fashion to wear paste jewels.” The man held the tiara in his hand. “But I will restore them to the rightful owner,” he said. “Mrs. Oliver informed me they were gone, two minutes after you slipped them out of her hair.”
Townsend had not spoken. “Don’t,” he now said, with a shudder, “put those handcuffs on my hands. I will go quietly. I see the game is up—thanks to you!” He turned to Barbara with a snarl. But Ruth and Ralph were standing close by her side.
Barbara was much shaken and frightened by her encounter, but she tried to summon a little of her old spirit. “You do me too much honor, Mr. Townsend,” she answered quietly.
“Where is the Countess Bertouche?” asked Townsend stolidly.
“She is ready to leave Newport with you to-night. Only we persuaded her to get ready a little earlier; indeed, we called upon her this afternoon, while she was at the tournament, and were waiting for her when she got back. She had two or three little trinkets in her possession, which she was holding for you, that we wished to return to their rightful owners. The lady will be able to travel as soon as you are. We think it best not to have any excitement in Newport. By the way,” went on the detective—the three young people were listening breathlessly—“the lady is not such a cool customer as you are. She confessed that she was not a countess, but a poor newspaper woman out of a job, whom you enticed down here to help you. She explained that you had been mailing letters of instruction to her by sending them on to New York and having them remailed to her here. A poor business it has been for both of you, I am thinking.”
“Ruth,” said Barbara, quickly, “it’s too awful! Let us go back to Miss Sallie!”
Early next morning Ruth and Barbara made full confession to Miss Sallie. Mollie and Grace were not surprised, for they had been told enough of the circumstances to expect the outcome. But imagine Miss Sallie!
“You mean to tell me, Ruth and Bab,” she gasped, dropping limply into the nearest chair, “that Harry Townsend is the jewel thief, the Newport Raffles? Why, you girls have walked with him, talked with him, played tennis with him! And Barbara has suspected him all the time! My heavens!” she wailed, in despair. “Did it never dawn on you, Barbara, that you might have been killed?”
Miss Stuart was overcome. “Ruth Stuart, my own niece, do you mean to tell me that you lately discovered that ‘this Townsend’ was the thief who tried to rob us in New Haven? Why was I not told at once? But then, I am grateful I was not. And you, Mollie, fourteen-year-old Mollie, you found out this wretch’s accomplice, and discovered Mrs. Cartwright’s stolen butterfly! I never would have thought it of you!”
“But I didn’t mean to, Miss Sallie. It was all an accident. I am awfully sorry for that poor woman,” answered Mollie.
“Nonsense, child!” said Miss Sallie. “I am grateful enough that such dangerous people are out of the way.”
The girls were standing in a circle round her. “Come to my arms,” she demanded of Grace. “Thank heavens, child, you have not turned detective, and can be relied on to keep me company!”
“But it was just as much Grace’s fault as it was mine that I discovered the butterfly,” argued Mollie, who could not see that Miss Sallie was joking. “She was with me when I found it out.” Everyone joined in the laugh at Mollie’s expense.
“Some one to see you in the library, miss,” announced Susan, the parlor maid. “She says she’d like to see you alone, first, and she’d rather not give her name.”
“Then you are not to go one step, Barbara Thurston,” said Miss Stuart in the voice the girls knew had to be obeyed. “There is no telling who it is waiting for you, nor what her intentions may be toward you. You’d go if you thought you’d be murdered the next minute. I never saw a girl like you. I will go myself,” announced Miss Sallie.
“Oh, no,” said the girls, all pulling together at her skirts.
Miss Sallie had to pause. “If you think, young ladies,” she said, calmly, “that, because I have not unearthed a jewel robber, nor attacked a burglar in the dark, I am therefore more of a coward than a parcel of silly girls, you are vastly mistaken. Let go of me!” Miss Sallie marched majestically forward.
“Susan, I will go down.”
“Oh, no’m,” pleaded Susan, giggling. She had no idea what all the fuss was about, but she knew it was most unnecessary. “Please’m, let me whisper to you. It’s only that Miss Gladys Le Baron, but I promised not to give her name. I am sure she means no harm, miss. She looks like she was worried and had been crying a bit, ma’am.”
“It is all right, Barbara,” said Miss Sallie. “From what Susan tells me you may go downstairs alone.”
Bab had not the faintest idea who could be waiting for her. In all the excitement, she had entirely forgotten that she had told Gladys Le Baron to come to see her this morning without fail. As soon as she opened the library door, she remembered. “Good morning,” she said, coldly.
But Gladys flung her arms about her neck and burst into a torrent of tears. “I know it all, all!” she said. “Mrs. Post and Mrs. Erwin called me into their rooms last night, and told me everything. I had expected Harry Townsend to take me home from the ball, and, when he didn’t put in his appearance, I was so angry and behaved so badly Mrs. Post said I had to be told at once. Mrs. Erwin wanted to wait until morning. O Bab, I didn’t sleep a wink last night!”
“I am sorry,” said Bab, but she didn’t really show a great deal of feeling.
“Bab,” Gladys went on, “I simply can’t believe it! And to think you knew it almost all the time! Mrs. Post says I have to believe it, now, because the whole story is out. She says she was completely deceived, too, and can understand why I thought Townsend was a gentleman. Father seemed to think he was all right. He told us all about his being an orphan, and who his rich relations were. Mrs. Erwin is so good. She just says she is sorry for me, and hasn’t uttered a word of blame. Only think, I brought that dreadful wretch to her house, and I am responsible for all the trouble! O Barbara, I can never face it!” Gladys wiped her eyes again with her handkerchief, which was already wet with her tears.
“I want to go home to mother to-day, but Mrs. Erwin says I have to stay with her a little while longer. She says that, if I rush right off now, if I disappear the very same day Harry Townsend and that woman leave, people will believe there is more between us than there really is. There wasn’t anything exactly serious, though I did like him. I am sure I shall never hold up my head again.”
“I wanted to warn you sooner, Gladys; believe me, I did,” answered Barbara; “but I knew you wouldn’t listen to me, and would not believe a word I said.”
“I know, Barbara,” said Gladys, humbly. “I have been a horrid stuck-up goose. I know, now, if you hadn’t seen him steal the necklace at Mrs. Erwin’s, we might never have found out who the thief was. Then I don’t know what dreadful thing might have happened to me, if I had gone on seeing him and never understood his true nature. Do you think he could have stolen my bracelet?”
“I know he did,” Bab answered.
“The horrid, hateful thing!” cried Gladys, with a fresh burst of tears. “Barbara, I want to ask you a favor. Will you beg Ruth to let me go back to Kingsbridge in the automobile with you? I suppose I ask you because I have been more hateful to you than to anyone else. I know if you will forgive me the other girls will. Ruth will do anything you ask her.”
“But I can’t ask Ruth such a favor as that, Gladys,” argued Barbara. “There wouldn’t be room in the car, for one thing.”
“Oh, I could sit on the little seat and I would be as nice and give as little trouble as I possibly could, if you will only ask her. I somehow feel that if you girls will stick by me, now, other people will not think so badly of me. They will know I have been a goose, and have been dreadfully deceived by Harry Townsend, but they’ll understand that I never meant any wrong, and am not really bad. You see, Bab, you and Mollie are my cousins. Everyone is sure to find out you helped to expose the awful villain; so, if I am seen with you now, it will show that you take my part, and that you knew I had only been deceived.”
“Don’t you think it is a good deal to ask of me, Gladys?” said Barbara, speaking very slowly. She was thinking of every snub, every cruel thrust Gladys had given her since they were children.
Gladys did not answer at first. Then she shook her head, and rose to go. “Yes, Barbara,” she said; “I know I don’t deserve a bit of kindness at your hands. I have been perfectly hateful to you, always. Good-bye.”
“Oh, stay, Gladys,” begged Bab, penitent in an instant. “I didn’t mean that. Of course we will all stand by you. Indeed, I shall ask Ruth if you may go back in the automobile with us, and I am sure, if Miss Stuart thinks there is room enough, Ruth will be delighted to have you. She is always the dearest, most generous girl in the world,” said Bab, her face glowing with the enthusiasm she always felt in speaking of Ruth.
“Now,” she continued, “do come on upstairs and take off your hat. You must stay to lunch with us. Oh, no; you needn’t be afraid of Miss Stuart. She won’t be unkind to you; she’s a perfect dear! She’ll just be awfully sorry for you, when you tell her how badly you feel. Come on, Gladys.” Bab took hold of her hand.
“Won’t you call Ruth down first?” urged Gladys. “I feel too much ashamed to go right on up there among all of you.”
Ruth and Bab, between them, persuaded Gladys to go to their rooms. To their surprise, Mistress Mollie was the one to be appeased. She was not so ready to kiss and make up as Bab had been, yet even Mollie’s “hard” little heart softened when she saw what a changed and chastened Gladys the girls brought upstairs with them.
“You’ll see I am going to be different,” Gladys said to Bab, “and if ever there’s a chance for me to prove how I appreciate your being so kind to me now, I shall do it. Of course, I don’t expect you to have much faith in me yet.”
“Miss Barbara Thurston is requested to spend her last day in Newport as the guest of honor of Governor and Mrs. Post on board their yacht, the ‘Penguin,’ which is at this instant awaiting her answer outside in Narragansett Bay,” said Ruth, with a flourish of a letter she held in her hand and a low bow to Barbara.
“Goose!” shot Barbara at Ruth. “But are we all invited for a sail? How jolly!”
“I am no goose, madam,” retorted Ruth. “I mean what I say. Read this.”
She handed Barbara a letter which Miss Stuart had received from Mrs. Post only a few minutes before, and which read:
My Dear Miss Stuart,
We want, in some quiet fashion, to show our appreciation of, and thanks to, the little girl who so patiently and cleverly kept her own counsel, and so materially aided in the discovery of the jewel thief. I feel that I did not do her justice. Governor Post and I both believe that it is to her wit and courage that I owe the return of my emerald necklace. I have talked matters over with Hugh, and, with your consent, I should like to give a luncheon, in her honor, on board the yacht at one o’clock to-morrow. We will spend the afternoon sailing in the bay. Only our intimate friends will be invited and we feel that no party could be complete, at Newport, without the presence of “The Automobile Girls.”
Faithfully yours,
Katherine Post.
“What larks!” cried Barbara, blushing with pleasure. “Has Miss Sallie said we could go?”
“Certainly she has,” rejoined Ruth. “I told Hugh so at once.”
Columbia, the gem of the ocean,
The home of the brave and the free,
The shrine of each patriot’s devotion——
The young people were in the bow of the yacht when the music commenced. “Why, Hugh,” Bab whispered to him in an undertone, “have we a band on board? How perfectly delightful!”
“Young Miss America,” Hugh answered, “you needn’t think, for one minute, that this party on the ‘Penguin’ is going to enjoy any ordinary entertainment to-day. The band is not half. Just you wait, and see all the remarkable things that are to take place on this blessed boat excursion.”
Earlier in the day, when Ruth and Grace first came aboard, they passed through the salon on their way to the upper deck. Grace caught hold of Ruth’s sleeve and drew her back to whisper to her: “Has it ever occurred to you that Harry Townsend might have stolen your fifty dollars that disappeared after we spent our first day on the yacht? I have been thinking that he must have been dreadfully hard up, or he never would have tried the robbery at New Haven, or have stolen such a small sum from you afterwards.”
“Yes, I have thought about it,” said Ruth, shaking her head, with a forlorn gesture. “Isn’t it too dreadful? Let’s forget all about him to-day.”
The luncheon was announced promptly at one.
“‘The Automobile Girls,’ including Miss Sallie, will kindly stay on deck until they are summoned,” called Mrs. Post, sweeping on ahead, followed by her other guests.
Miss Sallie and the girls waited in some excitement. The sun was shining gayly on the deck of the little ship, which sailed through the water like a white bird. All the flags were flying in Barbara’s honor, as the governor explained, when she came on board.
Suddenly Hugh’s smiling face appeared at the open door. “Come in, now,” he requested.
Miss Sallie and the girls marched into the long salon dining-room, while the band played “Liberty Bell.”
In the center of the luncheon table, raised on a moss-covered stand, was a miniature automobile. In it sat five dolls wearing automobile veils of different colors and long dust coats. Two of the dolls were blondes, the other two were brunettes. But the stateliest and handsomest doll of the lot had soft, white hair and reclined against a violet cushion. A pale blue flag flew over the car. It bore the inscription: “The Automobile Girls—Long May They Flourish!”
At either end of the table stood Hugh’s and Ruth’s silver cups, won at the tennis tournament.
As Miss Sallie and the four girls took their places, Hugh raised one cup, his mother the other. “We will drink from these loving cups,” he said, “to the health of our guests of honor, ‘The Automobile Girls.’” He then passed the cups, filled with a fruit punch, around the table.
At the close of the luncheon, Hugh again rose to his feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “I am going to make a speech.”
“Don’t do it, Hugh,” laughed Ralph.
“All right, Ralph,” said Hugh; “I won’t. Barbara,” Hugh leaned over to attract her attention, and Barbara turned a rosy red, “here’s a souvenir of Newport for you. I guess it’s a gift from us all.” He motioned to his friends around the table and handed to Bab a small green velvet box. “For the girl who is always on the watch,” he ended.
Barbara’s eyes were full of tears. They came partly from embarrassment, but most of all from pleasure. Inside the velvet case was a tiny gold watch, set in a circle of small emeralds.
But Mollie was calling Bab to look at her gift. Mrs. Cartwright, who sat next her favorite of the girls, had pinned a little, pearl butterfly in the lace yoke of Mollie’s gown. Ruth and Grace were each rejoicing in their gifts, silver pins representing tennis racquets, their souvenirs of the luncheon and their month’s stay in Newport.
“It has been just too lovely!” said Mollie to Mrs. Post, as she bade her good-night. “Yes, we start for home the first thing in the morning. In a few days there will be no more ‘Automobile Girls,’” she ended with a sigh.
“Oh,” said Ruth, laughing and coming up beside her, “who knows? You never can tell! Good-bye, everyone,” she said, taking hold of Bab’s hand. “We have had the time of our lives, just as we hoped we would. Till we meet again,” she finished with a smile.
The four girls ran down the gangplank and rejoined Miss Sallie.
As many of our readers will guess, the return to Kingsbridge did not bring an end to the adventures of the natural and charming girls in their automobile. Further adventures and a host of new things remain to be told, but these must be deferred for narration in the next volume, which will be entitled, “The Automobile Girls in the Berkshires; or, The Ghost of Lost Man’s Trail.”
[The End]
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GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN TO OVERTON CAMPUS.
GRACE HARLOWE’S PROBLEM.
GRACE HARLOWE’S GOLDEN SUMMER.
All these books are bound in Cloth and will be sent post-paid on receipt of only $1.00 each.
Pony Rider Boys Series
By FRANK GEE PATCHIN
These tales may be aptly described the best books for boys and girls.
1 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE ROCKIES;
Or, The Secret of the Lost Claim.
2 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN TEXAS;
Or, The Veiled Riddle of the Plains.
3 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN MONTANA;
Or, The Mystery of the Old Custer Trail.
4 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE OZARKS;
Or, The Secret of Ruby Mountain.
5 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE ALKALI;
Or, Finding a Key to the Desert Maze.
6 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN NEW MEXICO;
Or, The End of the Silver Trail.
7 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON;
Or, The Mystery of Bright Angel Gulch.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
The Boys of Steel Series
By JAMES R. MEARS
Each book presents a vivid picture of this great industry. Each story is full of adventure and fascination.
1 THE IRON BOYS IN THE MINES;
Or, Starting at the Bottom of the Shaft.
2 THE IRON BOYS AS FOREMEN;
Or, Heading the Diamond Drill Shift.
3 THE IRON BOYS ON THE ORE BOATS;
Or, Roughing It on the Great Lakes.
4 THE IRON BOYS IN THE STEEL MILLS;
Or, Beginning Anew in the Cinder Pits.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
The Madge Morton Books
By AMY D. V. CHALMERS
1 MADGE MORTON—CAPTAIN OF THE MERRY MAID.
2 MADGE MORTON’S SECRET.
3 MADGE MORTON’S TRUST.
4 MADGE MORTON’S VICTORY.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
West Point Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
The principal characters in these narratives are manly, young Americans whose doings will inspire all boy readers.
1 DICK PRESCOTT’S FIRST YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
Two Chums in the Cadet Gray.
2 DICK PRESCOTT’S SECOND YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
Finding the Glory of the Soldier’s Life.
3 DICK PRESCOTT’S THIRD YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
Standing Firm for Flag and Honor.
4 DICK PRESCOTT’S FOURTH YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
Ready to Drop the Gray for Shoulder Straps.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
Annapolis Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
The Spirit of the new Navy is delightfully and truthfully depicted in these volumes.
1 DAVE DARRIN’S FIRST YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, Two
Plebe Midshipmen at the U. S. Naval Academy.
2 DAVE DARRIN’S SECOND YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or,
Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy “Youngsters.”
3 DAVE DARRIN’S THIRD YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, Leaders
of the Second Class Midshipmen.
4 DAVE DARRIN’S FOURTH YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or,
Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
The Young Engineers Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
The heroes of these stories are known to readers of the High School Boys Series. In this new series Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton prove worthy of all the traditions of Dick & Co.
1 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN COLORADO; Or, At Railroad
Building in Earnest.
2 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN ARIZONA; Or, Laying Tracks
on the “Man-Killer” Quicksand.
3 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN NEVADA; Or, Seeking Fortune
on the Turn of a Pick.
4 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO; Or, Fighting the
Mine Swindlers.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
Boys of the Army Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
These books breathe the life and spirit of the United States Army of to-day, and the life, just as it is, is described by a master pen.
1 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS IN THE RANKS; Or, Two Recruits
in the United States Army.
2 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS ON FIELD DUTY; Or, Winning
Corporal’s Chevrons.
3 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS AS SERGEANTS; Or, Handling
Their First Real Commands.
4 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS IN THE PHILIPPINES; Or, Following
the Flag Against the Moros.
6 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS AS LIEUTENANTS; Or, Serving
Old Glory as Line Officers.
7 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS WITH PERSHING; Or, Dick Prescott
at Grips with the Boche.
8 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS SMASH THE GERMANS; Or, Winding
Up the Great War.
Dave Darrin Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
1 DAVE DARRIN AT VERA CRUZ;
Or, Fighting With the U. S. Navy in Mexico.
2 DAVE DARRIN ON MEDITERRANEAN SERVICE.
3 DAVE DARRIN’S SOUTH AMERICAN CRUISE.
4 DAVE DARRIN ON THE ASIATIC STATION.
5 DAVE DARRIN AND THE GERMAN SUBMARINES.
6 DAVE DARRIN AFTER THE MINE LAYERS;
Or, Hitting the Enemy a Hard Naval Blow.
The Meadow-Brook Girls Series
By JANET ALDRIDGE
1 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS UNDER CANVAS.
2 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ACROSS COUNTRY.
3 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS AFLOAT.
4 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS IN THE HILLS.
5 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS BY THE SEA.
6 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ON THE TENNIS COURTS.
All these books are bound in Cloth and will be sent post-paid on receipt of only $1.00 each.
High School Boys Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
In this series of bright, crisp books a new note has been struck.
Boys of every age under sixty will be interested in these fascinating volumes.
1 THE HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMEN; Or, Dick & Co.’s First
Year Pranks and Sports.
2 THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER; Or, Dick & Co. on the
Gridley Diamond.
3 THE HIGH SCHOOL LEFT END; Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on
the Football Gridiron.
4 THE HIGH SCHOOL CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM; Or, Dick &
Co. Leading the Athletic Vanguard.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
Grammar School Boys Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
This series of stories, based on the actual doings of grammar school boys, comes near to the heart of the average American boy.
1 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS OF GRIDLEY;
Or, Dick & Co. Start Things Moving.
2 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS SNOWBOUND;
Or, Dick & Co. at Winter Sports.
3 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN THE WOODS;
Or, Dick & Co. Trail Fun and Knowledge.
4 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER ATHLETICS;
Or, Dick & Co. Make Their Fame Secure.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
High School Boys’ Vacation Series
By H. IRVING HANCOCK
“Give us more Dick Prescott books!”
This has been the burden of the cry from young readers of the country over. Almost numberless letters have been received by the publishers, making this eager demand; for Dick Prescott, Dave Darrin, Tom Reade, and the other members of Dick & Co. are the most popular high school boys in the land. Boys will alternately thrill and chuckle when reading these splendid narratives.
1 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ CANOE CLUB; Or, Dick & Co.‘s
Rivals on Lake Pleasant.
2 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER CAMP; Or, The
Dick Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven.
3 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ FISHING TRIP; Or, Dick & Co.
in the Wilderness.
4 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ TRAINING HIKE; Or, Dick &
Co. Making Themselves “Hard as Nails.”
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
The Circus Boys Series
By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON
Mr. Darlington’s books breathe forth every phase of an intensely interesting and exciting life.
1 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS; Or, Making
the Start in the Sawdust Life.
2 THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT; Or, Winning
New Laurels on the Tanbark.
3 THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND; Or, Winning the
Plaudits of the Sunny South.
4 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI; Or, Afloat with
the Big Show on the Big River.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
The High School Girls Series
By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A.M.
These breezy stories of the American High School Girl take the reader fairly by storm.
1 GRACE HARLOWE’S PLEBE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
Or, The Merry Doings of the Oakdale Freshman Girls.
2 GRACE HARLOWE’S SOPHOMORE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
Or, The Record of the Girl Chums in Work and Athletics.
3 GRACE HARLOWE’S JUNIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities.
4 GRACE HARLOWE’S SENIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
Or, The Parting of the Ways.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00
The Automobile Girls Series
By LAURA DENT CRANE
No girl’s library—no family book-case can be considered at all complete unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books.
1 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT NEWPORT;
Or, Watching the Summer Parade.
2 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS IN THE BERKSHIRES;
Or, The Ghost of Lost Man’s Trail.
3 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS ALONG THE HUDSON;
Or, Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow.
4 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT CHICAGO;
Or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds.
5 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT PALM BEACH;
Or, Proving Their Mettle Under Southern Skies.
6 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT WASHINGTON;
Or, Checkmating the Plots of Foreign Spies.
Cloth, Illustrated—Price, per Volume, $1.00