The Girl Warriors

A BOOK FOR GIRLS

By ADENE WILLIAMS

David C. Cook Publishing Company
ELGIN, ILL.; OR
36 WASHINGTON STREET, CHICAGO.

Copyright, 1901.
By David C. Cook Publishing Company.

The Girl Warriors.

A BOOK FOR GIRLS.

By ADENE WILLIAMS.

CHAPTER I.
THE BURTONS.

Winnifred Burton sat all alone in the pleasant sitting-room, curled up in an easy-chair so large that her little figure was almost lost in its great depths. The fire in the open grate burned brightly, sending out little tongues of flame which made dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling, and flashed ever and anon on the bright hair and face and dress of the little girl sitting so quiet before it.

It was a dismal day near the close of January. Snow had been falling steadily all day, and the window-sill was already piled so high with it that by and by it would have to be brushed away in order to close the shutters. But Winnifred was so absorbed in the book she was reading that she knew nothing of all this. The book was a new edition of "The Giant Killer; or, The Battle That All Must Fight." She was just reading how the brave but tempted Fides lay in the dreadful Pit of Despair; of how he had fallen back, bruised and bleeding, time after time, in his endeavors to cut and climb his way out, before he found the little cord of love which was strong enough to draw him out with scarcely an effort of his own.

Twilight was fast closing in around the little reader, and all the letters on the page were beginning to dance up and down. Impatiently shaking herself, Winnifred slipped down from her chair, gave the fire a little poke, and settled herself on the floor in front of it, holding the book so that she could see to read by the flickering light. But she had scarcely begun to do so, when the door opened. She gave a little jump, and turned quite red in the face.

But it was only her little brother Ralph, who said: "'Innie, mamma says if 'oo have 'oor lessons done, 'ou'se to come out and set the table for supper."

Her lessons done! Winnie glanced at the pile of books lying on the table by the window. Yes, there they all were—her geography, history, grammar, arithmetic. When now would she have time to learn those lessons? And she felt that she had been dishonest, too, because her mother would perhaps have had something else for her to do, if she had not supposed she was studying hard. However, there was no help for it now, and with a rueful face she left the room.

Mrs. Burton was in the kitchen, so that Winnie escaped being questioned, but just now she was taking herself to task, for she had a very guilty conscience, and was wondering when she was going to begin fighting her giants. She knew only too well what one of them was, and she knew also that if she could not find time to learn those lessons, another punishment beside the stings of her conscience would await her on the morrow.

But presently her father and older brother came home; little Ralph ran to get their slippers, while they took off their wet boots; supper was put on the table, and they all sat down to the cheerful meal.

Mr. and Mrs. Burton had few rules for their household, but they had one which was imperative: nothing but cheerful faces and cheerful conversation was allowed at the table. Business or household worries were kept for private conference, and the little griefs of the children were not allowed to be mentioned.

Winnie soon forgot her anxiety in listening to the things that her father and brother Jack were saying, and, as the talk was about politics, and the tariff, and the state of the market, other little girls may not be so interested as Winnie tried to make herself believe that she was. So this will be a good time to describe them all, as they sit at the table.

All of their acquaintances spoke of the Burtons as a very happy family, and this opinion was undoubtedly correct, the reason for which will appear later.

Mr. Burton is a tall, handsome, young-looking man, with brown eyes having a merry twinkle in them; his eyebrows and moustache are dark and heavy, and his firm mouth and chin show character and decision.

Mrs. Burton looks as young as her husband, and Winnie is always taken by strangers to be her younger sister, which is a source of great delight and comfort to the girl, as she is very proud of her dainty and stylish mother. Mrs. Burton has soft brown hair, always prettily dressed; her eyes are a deep, soft blue, shaded by long, curling lashes, and with straight, delicate eyebrows above. Although she does much of the household work, she manages, in some mysterious manner, to keep her hands soft and white. Winnie sometimes steals up behind her mother and puts her own little brown hands beside one of the soft white ones with a little sigh—for she would like her own to be soft and white, too—but more often with a merry laugh.

Eighteen-year-old Jack, except that he gives promise of attaining his father's noble inches, is much like his mother. He had been intended for one of the professions, but all of his talents and inclinations having pointed to business, his father finally yielded the point of having him go through college, and, upon his graduation from high-school the year previous, took him into his own real estate office.

Winnie has eyes and hair like her father, but, in spite of her twelve years, is so small and slight that she looks like a child of nine or ten.

Four-year-old Ralph is the pet and beauty of the family. His hair curls in loose rings all over his head. His hazel eyes have such large, dilating pupils, and such a way of shining when anything is given him, that his young aunts and uncles, together with Winnie and Jack, are always giving him something for the pleasure of seeing his wondering look.

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Burton to his wife, as they rose from the table, "anything on the carpet for to-night?"

"Yes, if you don't think the weather too bad, I'd like to call on Mrs. Brown after Ralph is put to bed."

"Winnie, I should like you to accompany Jack in one of his new violin studies, while we are gone; but you must not forget that half past nine is your bed-time."

"Now for the new music," Jack said.—See page 6.

Poor Winnie! She dearly liked playing Jack's accompaniments, but the unlearned lessons rose up before her, and she said, "Oh, mamma, I can't to-night; I haven't done my lessons!"

"Well, Winnie, this has happened three or four times within the last week. If several study bells in school and two hours in the afternoon are not sufficient for you to keep up with your classes, I'd rather you'd go back a year. I want you to be educated thoroughly, but I can't have you 'crammed,' and you're too young to do studying at night."

"Mamma, that is time enough for me to do all my