Recently added books

Jane Allen, Junior

Creator: Bancroft, Edith
Translator: -
Contributor: -
Editor: -


Brand new books:


"They won't, eh?" type broke out in that challenge. "Well, that is just what I wanted to see you about. I suppose I'm not good enough to go to your rooms." Lip curled, nostrils quivered and head jerked up impertinently with that accusation. "Why, Miss Duncan--" floundered Jane. "Why don't you call me Shirley? Isn't that a swell enough name?" interrupted the other. Jane dropped down on the summer house seat with a thud. Here was a problem surely. Antagonism fairly blazed in the girl's dark eyes. Yet she was a stranger--actually Jane's guest. "Shirley is a very sweet name and I have always loved it," replied Jane frankly. "But my dear young lady, we must not quarrel. We shall never get acquainted that way." "Oh no, the juniors may do all the quarreling. We freshies must just turn the other cheek of course. But I suppose you know that long lanky friend of yours, they call some foolish name like Doses, hit me on the head with her hammer the other night?" "You mean Dozia Dalton--yes, she told me her hammer slipped--"
Rollo in the Woods

THE SETTING OUT. One pleasant morning in the autumn, when Rollo was about five years old, he was sitting on the platform, behind his father's house, playing. He had a hammer and nails, and some small pieces of board. He was trying to make a box. He hammered and hammered, and presently he dropped his work down and said, fretfully, "O dear me!" "What is the matter, Rollo?" said Jonas,--for it happened that Jonas was going by just then, with a wheelbarrow. "I wish these little boards would not split so. I cannot make my box." "You drive the nails wrong; you put the wedge sides _with_ the grain." "The wedge sides!" said Rollo; "what are the wedge sides,--and the grain? I do not know what you mean."
"Slipped indeed!" more scorn and lip curling. "She deliberately dropped it on my head--" "And you threw it at the mirror," broke out Jane, weary of acting the angel without gaining the slightest return from this rude girl. "Yes, I broke it and I'm glad of it! Now what are you going to do about it?" Two hands not really pretty, dug deep into the satin skirt pockets, and Shirley Duncan towered over Jane Allen defiantly. "What am I going to do about it?" repeated Jane. But the irony was lost on her companion. "You did not ask to see me just to be offensive?" parried Jane. "No indeed, I wanted to remind you I am in this college because your father gave a scholarship, and I suppose that would mean you might be nice to me at least." "I'm sure I want to be," Jane quickly toned down. "But no girl can make friends with another when she insists on quarreling. I am willing to pay for the broken mirror--" "You don't need to trouble yourself; if it is to be paid for I'll do it myself. My folks wouldn't let me--sponge on anybody."