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122 pages

English

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Author Annie F. Johnston was first inspired to create the beloved children's literature character known as the Little Colonel after a run-in with a supremely self-possessed little boy who reminded her of the imperious mannerisms of her grandfather, a high-ranking officer in the Confederate army. In this novel, a later entry in the series, a key plot point is finally resolved as Lloyd chooses a bride.

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Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 mai 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775457534
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING
* * *
ANNIE F. JOHNSTON

*
The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding First published in 1907 ISBN 978-1-77545-753-4 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Hanging of the Mirror Chapter II - Bed-Time Confidences Chapter III - A Knight Comes Riding Chapter IV - Betty's Novel Chapter V - A Camera Helps Chapter VI - "Garden Fancies" Chapter VII - Spanish Lessons Chapter VIII - "Shadows of the World Appear" Chapter IX - More Shadows Chapter X - By the Silver Yard-Stick Chapter XI - The End of Several Things Chapter XII - Six Months Later Chapter XIII - The Miracle of Blossoming Chapter XIV - The Royal Mantle Chapter XV - "As it was Written in the Stars" and Betty's Diary
Chapter I - The Hanging of the Mirror
*
IT was a June morning in Kentucky. The doctor's nephew coming at agallop down the pike into Lloydsboro Valley, reined his horse to a walkas he reached the railroad crossing, and leaning forward in his saddle,hesitated a moment between the two roads.
The one along the railroad embankment was sweet with a tangle of wildhoneysuckle, and led straight to the little post-office where hismorning mail awaited him. The other would take him a mile out of hisway, but it was through a thick beech woods, and the cool leafage of itsgreen aisles tempted him. A red-bird darting on ahead suddenly decidedhis course, for following some quick impulse, as if the cardinal wingshad beckoned him, he turned off the highway into the woods.
"I might as well go around and have a look at that Lindsey Cabin," hesaid to himself, as an excuse for turning aside. "If it's in as goodshape as I think it is, maybe I can persuade the Van Allens to rent itfor the summer. It's a pity to have a picturesque place like thatstanding empty when it has such possibilities for hospitality, and theVan Allen girls a positive genius for giving jolly house-parties. To getthat family out to Lloydsboro for the summer would be paving the way tono end of good times."
The farther he rode into the cool woods the better the idea pleased him,and where the bridle-path crossed a narrow creek he paused a momentbefore plunging down the bank. Somewhere up the ravine a spring wastrickling out in a ceaseless flow. He could not see it, but he couldhear the gurgle of the water, as cold and crystal clear it splashed downinto its rocky basin.
"They could picnic here to their hearts' content," he said aloud,glancing up and down the ravine at the rank growth of fern andmaidenhair which festooned the rocks.
Alex Shelby had spent only part of two summers in Lloydsboro Valley, butthe woodsy smell of mint and pennyroyal, mingling with the fern, broughtback the recollection of at least a dozen picnics he had enjoyed nearthis spot, most of them moonlight affairs, and all of them so pleasantthat he was determined to bring about their repetition if possible. Ofcourse this summer he would not have as much time for outings as he hadhad then. Now that he had finished his medical course he intended toshoulder as much as possible of his uncle's work. The old doctor'spractice had grown far too heavy for him. But at the same time thereneed be no limit to the pleasant things that the summer could bringforth, especially if the Van Allen family could be installed in theLindsey Cabin.
A quarter of a mile more brought him almost to the edge of the woods andto the beginning of the Lindsey place. The spacious, two-story log cabinstanding back among the great forest trees, might have been a relic ofDaniel Boone's day, so carefully had his pioneer pattern been copied byskilful architects. But the resemblance was only outward. Inside it wasluxuriously equipped with every modern convenience. For a year it hadstood tenant-less, and Alex Shelby never passed it without regrettingthat such a charming old place should be abandoned to dust and spiders.The last time he had gone by it, he had noticed that it was beginning toshow the effect of its long neglect. Some of the windows were completelyovergrown by ragged rose-vines and Virginia Creeper, and a tinwaterspout that had blown loose from its fastenings, dangled from theeaves.
Now as he came near he saw in surprise that the place seemed to have analert, live air, as if just awakened from sleep. The windows were allthrown open, the vines were trimmed, and were a mass of bloom, the deadleaves were raked neatly in piles and the cobwebs no longer hung fromthe cornices in dusty festoons.
A long ladder leaning against the front of the house, rested on the sillof an upper window, and Alex wondered if the agents had painters atwork. He hoped so. The more thorough the renovation, the more attractiveit would be to the Van Allens.
Suddenly his pleased expression changed to one of surprise and dismay,as he saw that the place was already inhabited. Empty packing-boxes,excelsior and wrapping paper littered the front porch. A new hammockhung between the posts. Somebody's garden-hat lay on the steps.Moreover, a slender girl in a white dress stood at the foot of theladder, evidently about to ascend, for she shook it to test its balance,and then cautiously stepped up on the first round.
Her back was toward Alex, and he fervently hoped that she would turnaround so that he might see her face, then more fervently hoped that shewouldn't, since it would be somewhat embarrassing to be caught staringas inquisitively as he was doing. Unconsciously at sight of her he hadbrought his horse to a standstill, and now sat wondering who she couldbe and what she was about to do. It was as if a curtain had gone up onthe first scene of an intensely interesting play, and for the moment heforgot everything else in admiration of the stage setting, and thegraceful little figure poised on the ladder.
"Probably going up for an armful of roses," he thought.
"Hold tight, Ca'line Allison! Don't let it slip!" she called in a highsweet voice, almost as if she were singing the words, and Alex noticedfor the first time, a small coloured girl behind the ladder, bracingherself against it to hold it steady.
The ascent was a slow one. Twice she tripped on her skirts, and with alittle shriek almost slipped through between the rounds. Only one handwas free for climbing. The other grasped some dark object that seemed tobe a picture frame, though why one should be carrying a picture frame upthe outside of a house was more than the young man could imagine, and heconcluded he must be mistaken.
The last step brought her head on a level with the second story window,and up where the sun struck through the trees in a broad shaft of light.Her hair had been beautiful in the shadow; a rare tint of auburn withbronze gold glints, but now in the sunshine it was an aureole. What wasit it reminded him of? A fragment of a half-forgotten poem came to hismind, although he was not given to remembering such things:
"Sandalphon the angel of glory, Sandalphon the angel of prayer."
Then he almost laughed aloud at the comparison, for a dazzling flash oflight, blinding him for an instant, was reflected into his eyes from theobject she carried, and he saw that it was a looking-glass that she wastaking up the ladder with such care.
"What a very human and very feminine angel of glory it is," hethought. But the next instant, still with the amused smile on his face,he was spurring his horse down the road as fast as it could gallop. Thegirl on the ladder had caught sight of his reflection in the mirror asshe reached up to lay it on the window sill, and had turned a startledface towards him. Not for worlds would he have had her know that he hadbeen so discourteous as to sit staring at her. He had forgotten himselfin the interest of the moment.
Eager to find out who the new tenants were at the Lindsey Cabin, he roderapidly on, turning from the woodland road into a maple-lined avenueleading back to the post-office. Just as he made the turn anothersurprise confronted him. He almost collided with two girls who werehurrying along arm in arm, under a red parasol.
Both Lloyd Sherman and Kitty Walton were old friends of his, but he hadto look twice to assure himself that he saw aright. They had been awayat school all year, and he had not heard of their return.
"I thought you were still at Warwick Hall!" he exclaimed, dismountingand stepping forward with bared head, to shake hands in his most cordialway. "When did you get home?"
"Only this mawning," answered Lloyd. "All the Commencement exerciseswere ovah last Thursday, and we're school girls no longah. ' Beyond, theAlps lies Italy! ' Kitty can tell you all about it, for she had theValedictory."
Kitty met Alex's amused smile with a flash of her black eyes, but beforeshe could deny having used the trite subject that had been so popular inthe old Lloydsboro seminary as to have become a standing joke, Alexanswered, "Well, you've certainly lost no time in starting out toexplore the wide world that lies before you. I've always heard thatthere's nothing to equal the zeal of a sweet girl graduate about toscale her Alps. You've barely reached home, haven't been off the carsthree hours, I'll bet, and yet here you are on the war-path again. WhatItaly are you climbing after now?"
Ordinarily his banter would have been promptly resented by both girls,but now it served only to recall the amazing news that had sent themhurrying away from the post-office on an excited quest