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The Floating Press - Maud Montgomery Lucy

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181 pages

English

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When young siblings Beverley and Felix come to stay with their aunt, uncle and cousins on beautiful but remote Prince Edward Island, they aren't sure what to expect. Soon, the newly acquainted cousins become fast friends and begin to fill their free time with bouts of fantastical storytelling. A girl named Sara displays a unique genius for this activity and soon becomes the fabled Story Girl whom all the others in the group depend on for a steady supply of ripping good yarns. The Story Girl is a rewarding read that you'll come back to again and again.

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Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 février 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775456803
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.

Extrait

THE STORY GIRL
* * *
LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY

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The Story Girl First published in 1911 ISBN 978-1-77545-680-3 © 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 Home of Our Fathers Chapter II - A Queen of Hearts Chapter III - Legends of the Old Orchard Chapter IV - The Wedding Veil of the Proud Princess Chapter V - Peter Goes to Church Chapter VI - The Mystery of Golden Milestone Chapter VII - How Betty Sherman Won a Husband Chapter VIII - A Tragedy of Childhood Chapter IX - Magic Seed Chapter X - A Daughter of Eve Chapter XI - The Story Girl Does Penance Chapter XII - The Blue Chest of Rachel Ward Chapter XIII - An Old Proverb with a New Meaning Chapter XIV - Forbidden Fruit Chapter XV - A Disobedient Brother Chapter XVI - The Ghostly Bell Chapter XVII - The Proof of the Pudding Chapter XVIII - How Kissing was Discovered Chapter XIX - A Dread Prophecy Chapter XX - The Judgment Sunday Chapter XXI - Dreamers of Dreams Chapter XXII - The Dream Books Chapter XXIII - Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made On Chapter XXIV - The Bewitchment of Pat Chapter XXV - A Cup of Failure Chapter XXVI - Peter Makes an Impression Chapter XXVII - The Ordeal of Bitter Apples Chapter XXVIII - The Tale of the Rainbow Bridge Chapter XXIX - The Shadow Feared of Man Chapter XXX - A Compound Letter Chapter XXXI - On the Edge of Light and Dark Chapter XXXII - The Opening of the Blue Chest
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"She was a form of life and light That seen, became a part of sight, And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye, The morning-star of Memory!" —Byron.
TO MY COUSIN
Frederica E. Campbell
IN REMEMBRANCE OF OLD DAYS, OLD DREAMS,AND OLD LAUGHTER
Chapter I - The Home of Our Fathers
*
"I do like a road, because you can be always wondering what is atthe end of it."
The Story Girl said that once upon a time. Felix and I, on theMay morning when we left Toronto for Prince Edward Island, hadnot then heard her say it, and, indeed, were but barely aware ofthe existence of such a person as the Story Girl. We did notknow her at all under that name. We knew only that a cousin,Sara Stanley, whose mother, our Aunt Felicity, was dead, wasliving down on the Island with Uncle Roger and Aunt Olivia King,on a farm adjoining the old King homestead in Carlisle. Wesupposed we should get acquainted with her when we reached there,and we had an idea, from Aunt Olivia's letters to father, thatshe would be quite a jolly creature. Further than that we didnot think about her. We were more interested in Felicity andCecily and Dan, who lived on the homestead and would therefore beour roofmates for a season.
But the spirit of the Story Girl's yet unuttered remark wasthrilling in our hearts that morning, as the train pulled out ofToronto. We were faring forth on a long road; and, though we hadsome idea what would be at the end of it, there was enoughglamour of the unknown about it to lend a wonderful charm to ourspeculations concerning it.
We were delighted at the thought of seeing father's old home, andliving among the haunts of his boyhood. He had talked so much tous about it, and described its scenes so often and so minutely,that he had inspired us with some of his own deep-seatedaffection for it—an affection that had never waned in all hisyears of exile. We had a vague feeling that we, somehow,belonged there, in that cradle of our family, though we had neverseen it. We had always looked forward eagerly to the promisedday when father would take us "down home," to the old house withthe spruces behind it and the famous "King orchard" beforeit—when we might ramble in "Uncle Stephen's Walk," drink fromthe deep well with the Chinese roof over it, stand on "the PulpitStone," and eat apples from our "birthday trees."
The time had come sooner than we had dared to hope; but fathercould not take us after all. His firm asked him to go to Rio deJaneiro that spring to take charge of their new branch there. Itwas too good a chance to lose, for father was a poor man and itmeant promotion and increase of salary; but it also meant thetemporary breaking up of our home. Our mother had died beforeeither of us was old enough to remember her; father could nottake us to Rio de Janeiro. In the end he decided to send us toUncle Alec and Aunt Janet down on the homestead; and ourhousekeeper, who belonged to the Island and was now returning toit, took charge of us on the journey. I fear she had an anxioustrip of it, poor woman! She was constantly in a quitejustifiable terror lest we should be lost or killed; she musthave felt great relief when she reached Charlottetown and handedus over to the keeping of Uncle Alec. Indeed, she said as much.
"The fat one isn't so bad. He isn't so quick to move and get outof your sight while you're winking as the thin one. But the onlysafe way to travel with those young ones would be to have 'emboth tied to you with a short rope—a MIGHTY short rope."
"The fat one" was Felix, who was very sensitive about hisplumpness. He was always taking exercises to make him thin, withthe dismal result that he became fatter all the time. He vowedthat he didn't care; but he DID care terribly, and he glowered atMrs. MacLaren in a most undutiful fashion. He had never likedher since the day she had told him he would soon be as broad ashe was long.
For my own part, I was rather sorry to see her going; and shecried over us and wished us well; but we had forgotten all abouther by the time we reached the open country, driving along, oneon either side of Uncle Alec, whom we loved from the moment wesaw him. He was a small man, with thin, delicate features,close-clipped gray beard, and large, tired, blue eyes—father'seyes over again. We knew that Uncle Alec was fond of childrenand was heart-glad to welcome "Alan's boys." We felt at homewith him, and were not afraid to ask him questions on any subjectthat came uppermost in our minds. We became very good friendswith him on that twenty-four mile drive.
Much to our disappointment it was dark when we reachedCarlisle—too dark to see anything very distinctly, as we droveup the lane of the old King homestead on the hill. Behind us ayoung moon was hanging over southwestern meadows of spring-timepeace, but all about us were the soft, moist shadows of a Maynight. We peered eagerly through the gloom.
"There's the big willow, Bev," whispered Felix excitedly, as weturned in at the gate.
There it was, in truth—the tree Grandfather King had plantedwhen he returned one evening from ploughing in the brook fieldand stuck the willow switch he had used all day in the soft soilby the gate.
It had taken root and grown; our father and our uncles and auntshad played in its shadow; and now it was a massive thing, with ahuge girth of trunk and great spreading boughs, each of them aslarge as a tree in itself.
"I'm going to climb it to-morrow," I said joyfully.
Off to the right was a dim, branching place which we knew was theorchard; and on our left, among sibilant spruces and firs, wasthe old, whitewashed house—from which presently a light gleamedthrough an open door, and Aunt Janet, a big, bustling, sonsywoman, with full-blown peony cheeks, came to welcome us.
Soon after we were at supper in the kitchen, with its low, dark,raftered ceiling from which substantial hams and flitches ofbacon were hanging. Everything was just as father had describedit. We felt that we had come home, leaving exile behind us.
Felicity, Cecily, and Dan were sitting opposite us, staring at uswhen they thought we would be too busy eating to see them. Wetried to stare at them when THEY were eating; and as a result wewere always catching each other at it and feeling cheap andembarrassed.
Dan was the oldest; he was my age—thirteen. He was a lean,freckled fellow with rather long, lank, brown hair and theshapely King nose. We recognized it at once. His mouth was hisown, however, for it was like to no mouth on either the King orthe Ward side; and nobody would have been anxious to claim it,for it was an undeniably ugly one—long and narrow and twisted.But it could grin in friendly fashion, and both Felix and I feltthat we were going to like Dan.
Felicity was twelve. She had been called after Aunt Felicity, whowas the twin sister of Uncle Felix. Aunt Felicity and UncleFelix, as father had often told us, had died on the same day, farapart, and were buried side by side in the old Carlislegraveyard.
We had known from Aunt Olivia's letters, that Felicity was thebeauty of the connection, and we had been curious to see her onthat account. She fully justified our expectations. She wasplump and dimpled, with big, dark-blue, heavy-lidded eyes, soft,feathery, golden curls, and a pink and white skin—"the Kingcomplexion." The Kings were noted for their noses andcomplexion. Felicity had also delightful hands and wrists. Atevery turn of them a dimple showed itself. It was a pleasure towonder what her elbows must be like.
She was very nicely dressed in a pink print and a frilled muslinapron; and we understood, from something Dan said, that she had"dressed up" in honour of our coming. This made us feel quiteimportant. So far as we knew, no feminine creatures had evergone to the pains of dressing up on our account before.
Cecily, who was eleven, was pretty also—or would have been hadFelicity not been there. Felicity rather took the colour fromother girls. Cecily looked pale and thin beside her; but she haddainty little features, smooth brown hair of sati