قراءة كتاب The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding
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The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding
align="right">VI.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
| PAGE | |
|
"With the donning of the ancient dress she seemed to have put on the sweet
shy manner that had been the charm of its first wearer" (See page 142) |
Frontispiece |
| "The other grasped some dark object that seemed to be a picture frame" | 6 |
| "Drew rein a moment at the gate, to look down the stately avenue" | 47 |
| "He was bending anxiously over a bubbling saucepan" | 87 |
| "Making a cup of her white hands" | 126 |
| "For once the red and green bird was on its good behaviour" | 180 |
| "She poured the corn into the popper and began to shake it over the red coals" | 261 |
| "'She looked to me just like one of her own lilies'" | 315 |
THE
LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT
COMES RIDING
CHAPTER I
It was a June morning in Kentucky. The doctor's nephew coming at a gallop down the pike into Lloydsboro Valley, reined his horse to a walk as 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 wild honeysuckle, and led straight to the little post-office where his morning mail awaited him. The other would take him a mile out of his way, but it was through a thick beech woods, and the cool leafage of its green aisles tempted him. A red-bird darting on ahead suddenly decided his course, for following some quick impulse, as if the cardinal wings had beckoned him, he turned off the highway into the woods.
"I might as well go around and have a look at that Lindsey Cabin," he said to himself, as an excuse for turning aside. "If it's in as good shape as I think it is, maybe I can persuade the Van Allens to rent it for the summer. It's a pity to have a picturesque place like that standing empty when it has such possibilities for hospitality, and the Van Allen girls a positive genius for giving jolly house-parties. To get that family out to Lloydsboro for the summer would be paving the way to no 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 moment before plunging down the bank. Somewhere up the ravine a spring was trickling out in a ceaseless flow. He could not see it, but he could hear the gurgle of the water, as cold and crystal clear it splashed down into 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 and maidenhair which festooned the rocks.
Alex Shelby had spent only part of two summers in Lloydsboro Valley, but the woodsy smell of mint and
