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Brenda's Ward A Sequel to 'Amy in Acadia'   By: (1860-1926)

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Brenda's Ward

A Sequel to "Amy in Acadia"

By Helen Leah Reed

Author of "The Brenda Books," "Irma and Nap," "Amy in Acadia," etc.

Illustrated from Drawings by Frank T. Merrill

Boston Little, Brown, and Company 1906

Copyright, 1906 , BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

All rights reserved

Published October, 1906

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

[Illustration: "As Martine courtesied her thanks for this compliment, she backed gracefully."]

CONTENTS

I. A NEW HOME

II. A STRANGE MEETING

III. PRISCILLA'S PRIDE

IV. CHANGES

V. ANOTHER PARTING

VI. ANGELINA'S COUP

VII. A DROP OF INK

VIII. A PRIZE WINNER

IX. WORD FROM BRENDA

X. THE RECITAL

XI. MARTINE'S ALTRUISM

XII. PUZZLES

XIII. AT PLYMOUTH

XIV. TALES AND RELICS

XV. TROUBLES

XVI. THE MISSING TRUNK

XVII. CLASS DAY

XVIII. AT YORK

XIX. SIGHT SEEING

XX. THE ISLES OF SHOALS

XXI. VARIETY

XXII. EXCITEMENT

XXIII. QUIET LIFE

XXIV. PORTSMOUTH AND AFTERWARD

XXV. THE SUMMER'S END

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"As Martine courtesied her thanks for this compliment, she backed gracefully"

"'The real Memorial is here,' said Elinor, reverently, passing from one tablet to another"

"'This little scarf it is Roman, too, is just the thing for Julius C├Žsar'"

"Aunt Nabby seemed to be making little dolls of clay"

"The old captain proved very talkative"

"While Martine was sketching, Clare fluttered about"

Brenda's Ward

CHAPTER I

A NEW HOME

"It's simply perfect."

"I thought you would like it, Martine."

"Like it! I should say so, but it isn't 'it,' it's everything, the room, the house, you, Boston. Really, you don't know how glad I am to be here, Brenda I mean Mrs. Weston."

"What nonsense!"

"That I should like things?"

"No, that you should call me 'Mrs. Weston.' It's bad enough to be growing old, so don't try to make me feel like a grandmother. Truly, I can't believe that I am a day older than when I was sixteen, and yet when I was sixteen, eighteen seemed the end of everything worth while. I could not imagine myself old, and serious, and twenty."

Martine smiled at Brenda's emphasis of the last word, and as she smiled she laid her hand on her friend's arm.

"Come," she said, "just look in this mirror. A person who did not know could not tell which is the older, you or I."

"Again, nonsense!"

Yet even as she spoke Brenda could but admit to herself that Martine had an air of dignity suited to one much older than a girl of seventeen. But if she had thought Martine altogether grown up, she quickly changed her opinion, for at this very moment Martine sank on the floor beside her, and as her laughter re echoed through the rooms Brenda was driven to say:

"My dear, don't talk to me about being grown up. You act precisely like a child of ten. What in the world is the matter?"

"Nothing, oh nothing; that is, almost nothing. Only look and you will laugh too."

Glancing where Martine pointed, Brenda saw something really amusing. Before a pier glass in the hall a sallow girl with glossy black hair piled high on her head was standing. She wore a pink satin gown that heightened her sallowness. It was cut square in the neck, and her elbow sleeves displayed a pair of skinny arms.

"Who is she?" whispered Martine, recovering her breath.

"Why, that, oh that is Angelina."

Martine, fascinated by the vision in the glass, continued to watch the strange little figure, bowing, gesticulating, turning now to this side now to that, while her lips moved as if she were talking to herself.

"Who is Angelina?" asked Martine.

"Oh, Angelina, don't you know her? She is to help me for a week while Maggie is away taking care of her sick aunt."

"Do you call that 'helping'?" and again Martine pointed toward the pier glass... Continue reading book >>




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