“Gee whiz! I’d like to know how they make those fans work!” exclaimed Teddie Hart in puzzled tone, to the joy of a group of girls near by, who giggled unrestrainedly as they saw that they had succeeded in mystifying their scout friends. Perhaps Peter, if he had minded, could have explained that a flat board to which the fans were nailed did the work.

A Silver Race was composed of teams of two, rowing out to the raft and back, each girl holding a silver spoon in her mouth containing an egg. The winners were Nathalie and Edith, who reached shore with their eggs intact, while Lillie Bell and a Bob White raced back to land with streams of yellow dripping from their faces and clothes, the race rules requiring that each racer should return to the shore with what remained of the egg.

The Trail of the Lonesome Pine created yells of laughter, as Helen stepped gingerly along with bare feet on a peeled pine sapling suspended over the shallow water near the shore. It was greased, of course, but the red apple at its end proved an incentive as the girl slipped cautiously towards it. Hurrah, she was almost there! Hadn’t she practiced that feat for days? There was a sudden swerve to one side, the supple figure tottered, and then Miss Helen plunged to her fate in the water below. But she only laughed with the spectators as she wrung out her skirts and scurried for the bank, while Barbara began her greasy career.

Surely she had rosin on her feet! No, she didn’t, for the next moment she too was clawing the air. She swayed for a minute like a reed in the wind, and then went down, not into the water, but on the pole where she gazed with a bewildered stare in her near-sighted eyes at the jeering little prize that had proved so elusive.

The first number of the land sports was a contest in the air, the performers walking on stilts while balancing potatoes on their heads. A tilting joust also took place, and helped to prove that the time the girls had spent in making and walking on the stilts had not been wasted.

The Up Against It Race, turned out to be an obstacle race, one of the obstacles being twelve eggs to be picked up from the ground and placed in a basket. The second obstacle was hailed with deafening shouts, for it was no other than Miss Camphelia sitting on the race-track contentedly sucking a lollipop. She was speedily seized by the contestant and arrayed in a coat and hat, while gazing with wondering eyes at this new red-faced mother. The girl who made the best time as an egg-picker and baby-dresser proved to be an Oriole, and was duly applauded for her speed and deftness.

In the Light that Failed contest the fair racers made a twenty-yard dash carrying lighted candles and pails of water, one in each hand, at the same time. All lights flickered out to be sure, but the one that lasted the longest won the contest for its holder.

A fifty-yard dash won by Edith now followed, while one of the Bob Whites broke the tape at a twenty-five yard dash. In a Ring the Bell competition the girls were divided into teams, the team having the greatest number of girls who threw a bean bag through a barrel-hoop with a bell hung in its center without touching the bell were the jubilant ones.

Lillie and Edith now gave an exhibition of wigwagging, using the Myers code, in which nearly all the girls were proficient. Lillie, to her delight, showed the most proficiency, although Edith had generally been considered the greatest expert in this science. An Indian-club drill, and a nail-driving contest not only showed the scouts what their sisters could accomplish in the way of strength, and manual labor, but brought the sports for the day to a close.

By this time pangs of hunger began to assail the jolly campers, and Nita, with a strenuous toot of her horn, made known that a Grub Contest—a hike for supper packages hidden in the woods, among the rocks on the shore, or around the tents—would now take place. With much laughter and jesting the girls lined up opposite the boys, and at three blasts of the bugle they were off, flying in all directions, each one bent on searching some one particular locality that he or she had in mind. The fortunate ones were soon shouting hilariously; in fact even the slow ones were keener than usual in this supper hike, and soon bagged their game and cheered lustily as they returned to camp.

Every one now gathered around the dining-room table—appropriately decorated for the occasion—and was soon dulling appetite with the choice bits found in the packages that had been done up by the Pioneers but hidden by Mrs. Morrow and Mrs. Van Vorst.

As they frolicked over the supper it was voted that every one present contribute to the moment’s pleasure by telling a story, singing a song, asking a conundrum, and so on. A ball was passed to Helen who immediately told a funny story, and ended by tossing the ball to Nathalie, the rule being that the reciter was to throw the ball to any one he or she chose, which resulted in its being thrown to the more timid or lazy ones, thus causing surprise and laughter.

Nathalie made a rhyme impromptu, then tossed the ball to one of the boys, and so it kept going the rounds, not only bracing the timid or nervous ones, but revealing latent talent that had never been suspected.

Teddy Hart, who had played the knight to the announcer of the day, Miss Anita, spied her laughing at his antics when he was called to the front and mischievously tossed the ball to her. The smile died on the girl’s face and she gasped with a start of terror, but in a moment, with a defiant toss of her head, she started in and recited some funny verses so comically that she received an ovation of cheers and claps.

When Nathalie perceived this unexpected turn in the festivity, her heart went pit-a-pat in sympathy with Nita’s unexpected ordeal, but when she saw the upward toss of her head and the flash in her eyes, she knew the girl would prove game. Indeed, she had been proving game for the last ten days or more, for Helen’s plan of helping her to know the girls had succeeded so well that Nita had lost much of her supersensitiveness in regard to her deformity, by being made to forget it and by the kindliness and deference shown her by both girls and boys.

The intimacy that had come from tenting with the different Pioneers had not only shown her the need of correcting many of her own faults, but had revealed the good points of her associates. Many of the girls she had secretly vowed to Nathalie she would never care for, she had accepted as the best of friends.

From being deemed an aristocrat of whom the girls stood slightly in awe, thinking her proud and exclusive, she had proved to be most democratic, entirely devoid of the many airs and graces they feared. In fact she had become, as Nathalie said, a favorite with every one, and had nearly as many adorers as Miss Camphelia, who at that moment was having a most beautiful time eating bread and milk in the lap of Ellen, gurgling and winking with baby joy at the gay colors and lights that held her eye.

Supper over, the campers hurried to the cheer fire circle where a tall, uncouth-looking object covered with sheets towered specter-like in the center. Helen, mounting a small platform, announced that the campers had gathered to celebrate the burning of Miss Dummy, who represented the evil spirits that had run riot during their stay at camp.

An Oriole girl now came to the fore as chairman of the spirit committee, as it was called, and made known that a thorough investigation had brought to light many evil spirits that had dominated certain members of the camp at intervals, not only hindering the development of character, but causing discomfort and a few heartaches among their mates.

The evil spirits of grouchiness, shiftlessness, dishonesty, and selfishness, in a sense, had been tamed by the Pioneers’ laws and the flames from their cheer fire so that they had not caused much havoc, but there were a few evil ones not so familiar, perhaps, that had persisted in doing their evil work. The principal ones, she claimed, were forgetting each one’s own particular failing in the fun of ridiculing the faults and eccentricities of her mates, the disloyalty to one’s self by not trying to do one’s best, a habit of giggling when there was nothing to giggle at, a desire to shirk responsibility by letting the other one do work that was distasteful, and the weakness of letting one’s nerves get the better of one on certain occasions instead of getting the better of the nerves.

Of course this caused much laughter, although each girl recognized her own particular fault, and then and there secretly swore that she would subdue it or die in the attempt.

Helen now asked if there was any reason why the evil spirits just mentioned should not be disposed of for good and all. Receiving a shout that evidently meant a big “No!” she pulled a string, the ghostlike garments fell to the ground, and Miss Dummy stood revealed, an effigy arrayed in an old suit belonging to one of the Pioneers, even to the staff and knapsack, surmounting a pile of dried twigs and brush.

“Miss Dummy,” solemnly continued Helen, with as straight a face as she could muster as she confronted the ludicrous-looking evil one, who, with hat awry, huge red nose, and goggle-eyes, stared at her with a leer, “I consign to thee those evil spirits that have caused sorrow and heartaches among the members of Camp Laff-a-Lot, to be burned until thou art ashes, and then to be buried at the bottom of the lake to lie there forever!”

As she ended there was a sudden scurry forward as each Pioneer made one of a circle kneeling around Miss Dummy, and in an instant’s time had struck her match and applied it to one of the twigs which served as a pedestal for the evil one. As the firewood had been well oiled it caught quickly from the blue sputterings of so many matches, and yellow flames were soon shooting savagely upward to glow like strings of scarlet among the twigs and briers, causing them to snap and crackle hilariously. In a moment darting tongues were licking Miss Dummy’s red cheeks with fiery greed and floated upward to circle about in wreaths of white and black smoke.

Some of the unduly imaginative girls turned away, declaring that the effigy looked like some one of the girls in that suit in the reddened glare of the flames. But the rest joined hands with the scouts and leaped merrily about the blazing pyre, executing weird and strange gyrations, which they termed a fire dance, as a last farewell to their enemy, who finally, done to the death, tumbled to the ground a fiery mass of scarlet embers. A pail of water soon quenched the last of the spirits, when the ashes were gathered into a big pail and carried in a procession to the shores of the lake.

Here Helen, holding the pail carefully in her hand, stepped into a row-boat and was conveyed to the middle of the lake. By the light of the moon just peeping above the horizon she dropped the ashes of Miss Dummy into the placid water, and to the singing of a comic dirge, composed by one of the Orioles, was rowed silently back to shore.

CHAPTER XXV—GOOD-BY TO EAGLE LAKE

Pioneer and Scout, each in turn, now told of some special good that had come to them from the life in the open, which Mrs. Morrow said would be food for thought on their return to the city. A rhyming contest made no end of merriment, as well as the games of menagerie, gossip, animal, blind man’s buff, and others of like character. The scout orchestra now varied the entertainment with a few musical selections which started the girls and boys dancing around the fire again, this time with the graceful swing and motions of the modern dances.

But they tired at last, and, some one starting a song, they all fell in and sang to their heart’s content one song after the other, rendering the old-remembered one of “Juanita” with undue emphasis, in honor to Miss Anita Van Vorst.

After Dr. Homer, with the assistance of a few scouts, had made a deal of laughter by his comic shadowgraphs, done by a flash-lamp placed in the rear of one of the big tents with the flaps closed, the time came to say good-by. A few protested that it was still early, but when reminded by Mrs. Morrow that they had already been allowed an hour longer than usual and that they would have a lot of work to do in the morning as they were to break camp to return to the city, the protests ended, and the good-nights were said.

The last day was a busy one, any number of camp rules were broken but the squads were lenient—they were still sleepy—so no reports were made, and the work of pulling down tents, packing the camp equipment, and making everything as clean and orderly as possible progressed.

In the midst of this confusion Carol, who had made her last trip to the post-office, came rushing up to Nathalie with a letter. “Oh, it’s from Dick!” cried the delighted girl as she tore it open.

“Oh, Helen,” she exclaimed in a moment to that young lady who was down on her knees packing the big box, “it’s the funniest letter. Dick says he’s having the time of his life—the jolliest ever—why, where can he be?” stopping to glance at the envelope.

“Why, he must be in New York, or I wonder—yes,” she nodded in answer to Helen’s inquiry, “he says Mamma is fine—says they have had a glorious three weeks—well, I like that,” she grumbled with rueful face, “it looks as if they had not missed me a bit and—” But the sound of voices at this moment caused both of the girls to go to the tent door, to see Miss Carol hurriedly heading a procession of men and women towards the tent. She was screaming excitedly as she came, “Oh, Nathalie, where are you?”

Nathalie, somewhat alarmed by all this appearance of excitement, cried quickly, “Oh, what is it, Carol? What is it?”

“Oh, Nathalie,” the girl screamed, “the baby’s mother has come!”

“The baby’s mother!” echoed the dazed girl with wide eyes. “Why, what does she mean?” turning to Helen, who at that moment had picked up Miss Camphelia, who had just awakened from a nap on one of the cots.

By this time the party of country folk, breathless and somewhat moist from undue haste, with expectancy and delight beaming from every feature, had arrived in front of the tent. Nathalie gave one glance at the many faces, and then with a sudden cry rushed to the defense of what she had come to consider as her own, and the next minute was seated on the cot holding on to Miss Camphelia with a gripping clutch. She stared defiantly at the intruders as they pushed and jostled one another in their haste to enter the tent.

But a moment later her arms relaxed, as a faded-looking, worried-faced little woman, with eyes as blue as the sea, and hair like corn-silk, gave an inarticulate cry as she caught sight of the baby on the girl’s lap. Dropping on her knees with outstretched arms she cried, “Oh, my baby! My precious baby!”

Well, after that Nathalie could hold out no longer, especially when she saw that the baby’s sweet smile and dimpling cheeks were counterparts of those of the woman who claimed her as her own.

Then it was all explained. The child had been stolen by the gypsy woman who, evidently, after a day or so of tramping from house to house begging for money to reach the Gypsy settlement some distance from the neighboring town, had decided to abandon it. Unfortunately the notice that had been sent to be put up in the post-office had failed to reach its destination, and if it had not been for Dr. McGill, the physician who had been summoned by Edith when Camphelia was ill, the baby would never have been found.

Dr. MCGill had been puzzled by the baby’s resemblance to some one he knew, but supposing the little one belonged to some of the ladies at camp he had thought no more about it. Afterwards, however, on accidentally learning from Dr. Homer that it was a lost baby, he had sent the mother to reclaim it.

Of course there were pangs of disappointment to be endured, but, as Nathalie said, no one could be anything but glad to give the baby up after witnessing the mother’s joy. After the mother had thanked them all, from Mrs. Van Vorst down to Ellen, for their kindness and the care they had given her baby, hoping that each one of the girls would some day have one of her own to caress and fondle, they all kissed Camphelia good-by, and the camp baby departed to return to its own home.

After a dirge had been composed by Jessie, who had bloomed into quite a poetess, and any number of farewell letters and wishes had been written for the good luck of the next campers at the Lake, these were buried in the ground under a cairn of stones with a tiny American flag fastened at the top. This was the girls’ memorial to the good times they had had, as well as an expression of the sadness they felt on leaving the place where they had spent three such happy weeks.

The sadness of parting with the friends they had made in Mrs. Van Vorst’s household—not the least being our friend Jimmie—was somewhat lessened when they learned that their hostess and her daughter were to accompany them to New York to spend a day or so with Mrs. Morrow.

Going down in the car, although surrounded by a merry, chattering crowd, Nathalie and Helen became unusually silent. Helen, perhaps, was thinking of the new position she was to enter on her return to Westport, and Nathalie,—well, she could not have told why, but soon she became aware that her thoughts had jumped backward and she was reviewing her first meeting with Helen and the Pioneers.

She half smiled as each one in turn presented herself to her as she first appeared; Barbara, with her queer staring eyes, absent-minded manner, and her frumpish clothes that always made Nathalie think of a five-and-ten-cent store. How often she had been tempted to laugh until she learned of the meanness of Barbara’s grandfather, for although he was a rich man Barbara had to scrimp and haggle to get enough to eat, to say nothing of clothes to cover her back. The tears came into her eyes when she realized the kind heart that beat so loyally beneath the despised apparel. After all, what were one’s clothes, mere externals necessary of course, but in reality only of face value, for surely they would never gain one an entrance into Heaven. And Helen, what would her life have been in her new home without this neighbor friend—who had taught her to master herself by helping her to overcome the many problems that had confronted her when she had become a Pioneer?

Then she smiled again as she thought of Lillie Bell, with her thrillers and dramatic poses. She had learned that they were but the frosting to the solid worth beneath. Indeed, the thrillers in a way had proved an incentive in the telling of her stories to Rosy, the opening wedge into the good things that had followed, meeting Nita, making the money for Dick, Mrs. Van Vorst’s asking the Pioneers to Eagle Lake, and so on. Why, when she came to think of it, there was not a girl in her bird group who had not helped her in some way, even Edith, who had taught her to guard her tongue.

And from the Pioneer industries and crafts she had learned to be useful. She thought of the first time she had tried to darn a stocking at the Rally. Yes, and they had helped her to be happy, for they had given her a purpose in life. As for the sports and activities, they had brought her in closer touch with nature, giving her a keener interest in things that had never appealed to her before. And the rules and laws, even the good old-timey women had all done their share in making definite those qualities which she now saw were necessary in order to be a success in life.

She realized, but dimly, perhaps, that she had gotten nearer the hearts of these people of the workaday world, not only Helen, but Edith and Jessie, who were all to be wage-earners that fall, thus opening up to her a new avenue of hopes and desires. Wasn’t it strange how she used to dread the thought of having to earn her own living, and now she was worrying as to how she could earn more money to add to what she had earned already for Dick! Then a sudden thought jarred, oh, suppose Mrs. Van Vorst, now that Nita had become so different with her sunburned cheeks and merry ways from what she had been before she met the Pioneers, should not want her any more! Oh, well, if that should be—ah, they were getting into New York! She stooped and had begun to gather up her belongings when some one spoke to her.

It was Mrs. Van Vorst, who, with her gracious little smile—how changed she seemed from on that morning when Nathalie had handed her the card in front of the library—said, “Nathalie, Nita and I are going to take a run up to St. Luke’s Hospital to visit that sick friend—you know the one I told you about, who just had an operation performed—and Nita wants you to go with us.”

“Oh, but Mother will be waiting to see me!” exclaimed the girl blankly. O dear, she didn’t want to go, for she was in such a hurry to see her mother and Dick.

“Oh, that will be all right,” nodded her friend quickly. “Mrs. Morrow will stop at the door, and you can tell her you will be along in the next train, for we shall not be long at the hospital.”

Twenty minutes later the three ladies, each with a big bouquet which Nita had insisted upon their taking, were entering a large, bare-looking reception room. “Now, girls,” said Mrs. Van Vorst, “I will hurry up in the elevator and see how the patient is, and then perhaps you can both come and see him—her—” Mrs. Van Vorst’s face grew strangely red—she turned abruptly and hurried from the room.

It was but a few moments when she was back again, and with a bright little nod cried, “Come, Nathalie, my friend is fine this morning, and very anxious to see visitors, so come along!”

“I wonder why the patient wants to see me,” soliloquized the girl in puzzled query. “Isn’t Nita coming?” she cried aloud, seeing the girl standing by the window with an odd little smile on her face.

“Oh, yes, later; only one at a time at present,” was the quick reply.

Nathalie was still thinking how strange it seemed and how smiling Mrs. Van Vorst appeared, when they came to a halt in front of a door in an upper corridor. “Here we are,” said her companion, “now run in and see my friend!” She threw open the door as she spoke.

Nathalie took a step forward, stared a minute with puzzled brows, and then with a loud cry flung herself with outstretched arms upon a figure standing in the center of the room, for it was Dick!

“Oh, how did you get here and—” but the rest was lost, for Dick was hugging her and kissing her in a way that more than astonished the girl, for he had always declared he hated to kiss people. And then he held her off and with shining eyes surveyed the suntanned cheeks of Nathalie approvingly, as he cried, “So you’re back, Blue Robin—and—great guns, as fat as a porpoise, too!”

“But what are you doing here?” inquired the still dazed girl slowly—“are you the lady?”

“Lady!” echoed Dick. “I, a lady? Not on your life! What have you got into your head now?” he quizzed teasingly.

“But Mrs. Van Vorst said I was to meet a lady—”

“Oh, she was just bluffing you, that’s all,” jeered Dick. “She wanted to surprise you, for—” then Nathalie gave a loud scream, for Dick had begun to walk towards the bureau, slowly, to be sure, for his muscles were stiff, but he was straight as an arrow.

“Oh—why, Dick, where is your cane? You’ll fall—” and then something must have whispered to the girl,—perhaps it was intuition for in a flash she seemed to know.

“Dick,” she gasped, “you’ve had the operation, and you’re all right?” This last was in a tense whisper.

“You bet I am,” returned Dick cheerily, “and in good shape, too. The doctor says I can go home in a week.”

“But where did you get the money?” asked the girl, her eyes big with wonder.

“From a check sent by Mrs. Van Vorst as a tribute to her little friend and adviser, Nathalie Page,” read Dick slowly from a letter which he had suddenly slipped from his pocket. As he glanced down at the girl and saw her staring eyes he flicked the letter before them, laughing as if to recall her to herself. Nathalie blinked, stepped back, and then a sudden light flashed into her eyes, and with a swoop of her hand she snatched the letter from her brother, crying, “Oh, Dick, isn’t she just the dearest! Oh, I’m not worth so much money, I—” Then her eyes swept the page before her.

“No, I don’t believe you are, Blue Robin,” teased Dick smilingly. And then his voice grew more earnest, as he added, “Nathalie Page, you’re the blood, all right. You captured her heart on sight, and this is the result.” He started to walk slowly towards the bed, but the girl was at his side, for she saw that he was beginning to feel a little tired.

“To be sure,” he cried apologetically as he leaned on her a little heavily. “I’m not a speeder just yet, but wait a bit and you’ll see me do a twenty-mile dash in no time.

“Yes,” explained Dick, after he was resting on the bed again, and Mrs. Van Vorst’s kindness had been rehearsed in detail; “Mrs. Van Vorst sent a letter to Mother expressing her love, admiration, and all the rest of it, for you, and then begged to be allowed to give you this surprise. She said we could consider the money a loan and pay it back when we liked.”

“Oh, was that the letter that came just before I went away, that you wouldn’t tell me about?”

Dick nodded, and then went on, “I was brought here the day after you left for the Lake; operated on the day after, and have had the jolliest time ever since. The nurses here are O. K. I have only been permitted to stand on my feet the last few days, but the doctor says I’ll soon be walking all right. But Blue Robin, how goes it with you? I hear you’re a great sport since you left.”

But Nathalie’s thoughts were elsewhere. “Oh, Dick,” she exclaimed presently, “when do you think we can pay Mrs. Van Vorst the money back? I have some, you know—” her eyes grew bright—“fifty dollars, in the bank!”

“And I have, well, I guess I have more than that,” said the boy proudly, “from the various jobs I did. Oh, Nathalie, did I tell you I wrote a little skit and sold it to ‘Life’ for fifty dollars?”

“You did?” ejaculated the girl. “Oh, I’m so glad! I always said you could write funny things. Well, that will make—” but at this moment she heard the door open. Oh, it was Mrs. Van Vorst—what should she say to thank her?

But the question faded from her mind as with a cry of delight she sprang into the outstretched arms of her mother.

Well, it seemed as if the three would never get through going over this great joy that had come into their lives! Then, too, they were all anxious to pay back as soon as possible Mrs. Van Vorst’s kind loan.

“Well,” said Nathalie at length, “I am sure if we all work hard we can do it pretty soon. How much did you say it cost?”

But before Dick could answer Mrs. Page cried, taking a hand of each as she spoke, “It will take time to be sure, but Mother is going to do her share, for, children, the bonds are all right, I received my interest yesterday, the usual six per cent.”

“Oh, isn’t that just too lovely!” exclaimed Nathalie. But before she could say more the door opened and Mrs. Van Vorst and Nita entered, Nita all shyness again as she bowed stiffly to Dick, whom she had always been anxious to meet. And then the unexpected happened, for as Nathalie turned to thank her kind benefactor she burst into tears and cried as if her heart would break, to the dismay of every one present. Oh, what a fool she did make of herself, she afterwards confessed with shamed eyes to Helen.

But Mrs. Van Vorst had been a girl herself once, and so she understood just how her young friend felt. She comforted Nathalie so sweetly that the girl fell in love with her over again, her tears dried, and she was soon her happy self.

In a short space the good-bys were said to Dick, and the four ladies hurried to the taxi that was to whirl them to Westport. Of course there was so much to tell and talk over during the journey that it was not until Nathalie was undressing for bed that she heard that as soon as Dick was able he and her mother were to spend two weeks at Eagle Lake with Mrs. Van Vorst. Nathalie received this news with unfeigned joy, for now her mother would have a change, and then she and Dick could see what a lovely place the Lake was.

There had been so many unexpected bits of brightness to make Nathalie happy that day that when she finally got into bed, although she was terribly tired, her brain was in such a whirl she was sure she would never go to sleep. But at last, with a drowsy sigh, she snuggled down on her pillow with the happy thought that she was so glad she had found that nest—of blue birds—and had become—a Girl Pioneer!

American Heroes and Heroines

By Pauline Carrington Bouvé

Illustrated 12mo Cloth $1.25 net

This book, which will tend directly toward the making of patriotism in young Americans, contains some twenty brief, clever and attractive sketches of famous men and women in American history, among them Father Marquette, Anne Hutchinson, Israel Putnam, Molly Pitcher, Paul Jones, Dolly Madison, Daniel Boone, etc. Mrs. Bouvé is well known as a writer both of fiction and history, and her work in this case is admirable.

“The style of the book for simplicity and clearness of expression could hardly be excelled.”—Boston Budget.

The Scarlet Patch

The Story of a Patriot Boy in the Mohawk Valley

By Mary E. Q. Brush Illustrated $1.25 net

“The Scarlet Patch” was the badge of a Tory organization, and a loyal patriot boy, Donald Bastien, is dismayed at learning that his uncle, with whom he is a “bound boy,” is secretly connected with this treacherous band. Thrilling scenes follow in which a faithful Indian figures prominently, and there is a vivid presentation of the school and home life as well as the public affairs of those times.

“A book that will be most valuable to the library of the young boy.”—Providence News.

Stories of Brave Old Times

Some Pen Pictures of Scenes Which Took Place Previous to, or Connected With, the American Revolution

By Helen M. Cleveland

Profusely illustrated

Large 12mo Cloth $1.25 net

“It is a book for every library, a book for adults, and a book for the young. Perhaps no other book yet written sets the great cost of freedom so clearly before the young, consequently is such a spur to patriotism.

“It can unqualifiedly be commended as a book for youthful readers; its great wealth of illustrations adding to its value.”—Chicago News.

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers,

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON

A Little Maid of Boston Town

By MARGARET SIDNEY

12mo Cloth

Illustrated by F. T. MERRILL $1.35 net

The opening chapters introduce us to old Boston in England. Margaret Sidney went there in 1907 and absorbed the atmosphere of Cotton Mather’s “St. Botolph’s Town,” gathering for herself facts and traditions. Then “St. Botolph’s Town” yields its scenic effects, and the setting of the story is changed to Boston Town of New England.

The story is absorbing, graphic, and truly delightful, carrying one along till it seems as if actual participation in the events had been the lot of the reader. The same naturalness that is so conspicuous in her famous “Pepper Books” marks this latest story of Margaret Sidney’s. She makes characters live and speak for themselves.

It is an inspiring, patriotic story for the young, and contains striking and realistic pictures of the times with which it deals.—Sunday School Magazine, Nashville.

The author presents a story, but she gives a veracious picture of conditions in the town of Boston during the Revolution. Parents who are seeking wholesome books can place this in the front tank with entire safety.—Boston Globe.

Surely Margaret Sidney deserves the gratitude of many a child, and grown-ups, too, for that matter, in telling in so charming, yet, withal, so simple a manner, of these early days in this country.—Utica Observer.

A really thrilling tale of the American Revolution. Interesting for both old and young.—Minneapolis Journal.

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston

JEAN CABOT SERIES

By GERTRUDE FISHER SCOTT

Illustrated by Arthur O. Scott 12mo Cloth

Price, Net, $1.25 each

Jean Cabot at Ashton

Here is the “real thing” in a girl’s college story. Older authors can invent situations and supply excellently written general delineations of character, but all lack the vital touch of this work of a bright young recent graduate of a well-known college for women, who has lost none of the enthusiasm felt as a student. Every activity of a popular girl’s first year is woven into a narrative, photographic in its description of a life that calls into play most attractive qualities, while at the same time severely testing both character and ability.

Jean Cabot in the British Isles

This is a college story, although dealing with a summer vacation, and full of college spirit. It begins with a Yale-Harvard boat race at New London, but soon Jean and her room-mate sail for Great Britain under the chaperonage of Miss Hooper, a favorite member of the faculty at Ashton College. Their trip is full of the delight that comes to the traveler first seeing the countries forming “our old home.”

Jean Cabot in Cap and Gown

Jean Cabot is a superb young woman, physically and mentally, but thoroughly human and thus favored with many warm friendships. Her final year at Ashton College is the culmination of a course in which study, sport and exercise, and social matters have been well balanced.

Jean Cabot at the House With the Blue Shutters

Such a group as Jean and her most intimate friends could not scatter at once, as do most college companions after graduation, and six of them under the chaperonage of a married older graduate and member of the same sorority spend a most eventful summer in a historic farm-house in Maine.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers

BRAVE HEART SERIES

By Adele E. Thompson

Illustrated 12mo Cloth Net $1.25 each

Betty Seldon, Patriot

A book that is at the same time fascinating and noble. Historical events are accurately traced leading up to the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, with reunion and happiness for all who deserve it.

Brave Heart Elizabeth

It is a story of the making of the Ohio frontier, much of it taken from life, and the heroine one of the famous Zane family after which Zanesville, O., takes its name. An accurate, pleasing, and yet at times intensely thrilling picture of the stirring period of border settlement.

A Lassie of the Isles

This is the romantic story of Flora Macdonald, the lassie of Skye, who aided in the escape of Charles Stuart, otherwise known as the “Young Pretender.”

Polly of the Pines

The events of the story occur in the years 1775-82. Polly was an orphan living with her mother’s family, who were Scotch Highlanders, and for the most part intensely loyal to the Crown. Polly finds the glamor of loyal adherence hard to resist, but her heart turns towards the patriots and she does much to aid and encourage them.

American Patty

A Story of 1812

Patty is a brave, winsome girl of sixteen whose family have settled across the Canadian border and are living in peace and prosperity, and on the best of terms with the neighbors and friendly Indians. All this is suddenly and entirely changed by the breaking out of war, and unwillingness on the part of her father and brother to serve against their native land brings distress and deadly peril.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price to the publishers

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON

HEROES OF HISTORY SERIES

A newly grouped collection of standard favorites—the kind that never grow old. In school and public libraries and intelligent homes these books are recognized as outweighing any number of the trashy newer juveniles so much in evidence, and for bright boys and girls they hold a high interest. The pleasing new covers, at the same low price, give them a renewed welcome.

Twenty titles by unsurpassed writers of history for the young: Towle, Headley, Bogart, Watson, and Frost.

New cover design, with side titles. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents.

By GEORGE M. TOWLE

      1.  DRAKE;  The  Sea  King  of  Devon.
      2.  MAGELLAN;  First  Around  the  World.
      3.  MARCO  POLO;  His  Travels  and  Adventures.
      4.  PIZARRO;  His  Adventures  and  Conquests.
      5.  RALEGH;  His  Voyages  and  Adventures.
      6.  VASCO  DA  GAMA;  His  Voyages  and  Adventures.
      7.  HEROES  AND  MARTYRS  OF  INVENTION.

By P. C. HEADLEY

      8.  FACING  THE  ENEMY;  Life  of  Gen.  W.  T.  Sherman.
      9.  FIGHT  IT  OUT  ON  THIS  LINE;  Life  of  Gen.  U.  S.  Grant.

By W. H. BOGART

    10.  BORDER  BOY;  Life  of  Daniel  Boone.

By HENRY C. WATSON

    11.  FATHER  OF  HIS  COUNTRY;  Life  of  Washington.
    12.  FRIEND  OF  WASHINGTON;  Life  of  Lafayette.
    13.  GREAT  PEACEMAKER;  Life  of  William  Penn.
    14.  POOR  RICHARD’S  STORY;  Life  of  Franklin.

By JOHN FROST

    15.  GREAT  EXPOUNDER;  Life  of  Daniel  Webster
    16.  LITTLE  CORPORAL;  Life  of  Napoleon.
    17.  OLD  HICKORY;  Life  of  Andrew  Jackson.
    18.  OLD  ROUGH  AND  READY;  Life  of  Gen.  Zachary  Taylor.
    19.  MILL  BOY  OF  THE  SLASHES;  Life  of  Henry  Clay.
    20.  SWAMP  FOX;  Life  of  Gen.  Francis  Marion.

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON

Four Gordons

By EDNA A. BROWN

Illustrated Large 12mo Decorated Cover $1.35 net

Louise and her three brothers are the “Four Gordons,” and the story relates their experiences at home and school during the absence of their parents for a winter in Italy. There is plenty of fun and frolic, with skating, coasting, dancing, and a jolly Christmas visit. The conversation is bright and natural, the book presents no improbable situations, its atmosphere is one of refinement, and it has the merit of depicting simple and wholesome comradeship between boys and girls.

“The story and its telling are worthy of Miss Alcott. Young folks of both sexes will enjoy it.”—N.Y. Sun.

“It is a hearty, wholesome story of youthful life in which the morals are never explained but simply illustrated by logical results.”—Christian Register.

Uncle David’s Boys

By EDNA A. BROWN

Illustrated by John Goss 12mo Cloth

Price $1.35 net

This tells how some young people whom circumstances brought together in a little mountain village spent a summer vacation, full of good times, but with some unexpected and rather mysterious occurrences. In the end, more than one head was required to find out exactly what was going on. The story is a wholesome one with a pleasant, well-bred atmosphere, and though it holds the interest, it never approaches the sensational nor passes the bounds of the probable.

“A story which will hold the attention of youthful readers from cover to cover and prove not without its interest for older readers.”—Evening Wisconsin.

“For those young people who like a lively story with some unmistakably old fashioned characteristics, ‘Uncle David’s Boys,’ will have a strong appeal.”—Churchman.

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON