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Jane Allen: Right Guard   By:

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[Illustration: As Right Guard, Jane proved herself worthy of the position.]

JANE ALLEN: RIGHT GUARD

By Edith Bancroft

Author of Jane Allen of the Sub Team

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York

Copyright MCMXVIII

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY

Jane Allen, Right Guard Made in the United States of America

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I DAY DREAMS 1 II A COUNCIL OF WAR 11 III BAD NEWS 17 IV THE REASON WHY 27 V THE UNKNOWN MISCHIEF MAKER 34 VI THE PLOT THICKENS 42 VII AN UNPLEASANT TABLEMATE 51 VIII A HAPPY THOUGHT 63 IX SEEKERS OF DISCORD 72 X A VAGUE REGRET 82 XI REJECTED CAVALIERS 91 XII NORMA'S "FIND" 101 XIII THE EXPLANATION 111 XIV OPENLY AND ABOVEBOARD 122 XV THE RECKONING 132 XVI PLAYING CAVALIER 140 XVII THE EAVESDROPPER 151 XVIII DIVIDING THE HONORS 157 XIX RANK INJUSTICE 167 XX THE RISE OF THE FRESHMAN TEAM 182 XXI REINSTATEMENT 197 XXII MAKING OTHER PEOPLE HAPPY 210 XXIII A NEW FRIEND 224 XXIV THE LISTENER 241 XXV THE ACCUSATION 258 XXVI THE STAR WITNESS 273 XXVII CONCLUSION 299

JANE ALLEN: RIGHT GUARD

CHAPTER I

DAY DREAMS

"Come out of your day dream, Janie, and guess what I have for you."

Hands behind him, Henry Allen stood looking amusedly down at his daughter.

Stretched full length in a gaily striped hammock swung between two great trees, her gray eyes dreamily turned toward the distant mountain peaks, Jane Allen had not heard her father's noiseless approach over the closely clipped green lawn.

At sound of his voice, she bobbed up from the hammock with an alacrity that left it swaying wildly.

"Of course I was dreaming, Dad," she declared gaily, making an ineffectual grab at the hands he held behind him.

"No fair using force," he warned, dexterously eluding her. "This is a guessing contest. Now which hand will you choose?"

"Both hands, you mean thing!" laughed Jane. "I know what you have in one of them. It's a letter. Maybe two. Now stand and deliver."

"Here you are."

Obligingly obeying the imperative command, Mr. Allen handed Jane two letters.

"Oh, joy! Here you are!"

Jane enveloped her father in a bear like hug, planting a resounding kiss on his sun burnt cheek.

"Having played postman, I suppose my next duty is to take myself off and leave my girl to her letters," was his affectionately smiling comment.

"Not a bit of it, Dad. I'm dying to read these letters. They're from Judith Stearns and Adrienne Dupree. But even they must wait a little. I want to talk to you , my ownest Dad. Come and sit beside me on that bench."

Slipping her arm within her father's, Jane gently towed him to a quaint rustic seat under a magnificent, wide spreading oak.

"Be seated," she playfully ordered.

Next instant she was beside him on the bench, her russet head against his broad shoulder.

"Well, girl of mine, what is it? You're not going to tell me, I hope, that you don't want to go back to college."

Henry Allen humorously referred to another sunlit morning over a year ago when Jane had corralled him for a private talk that had been in the nature of a burst of passionate protest against going to college... Continue reading book >>




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