Люси Мод Монтгомери

The Story Girl & Its Sequel, The Golden Road (Children's Classics)


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      Lucy Maud Montgomery

      The Story Girl & Its Sequel, The Golden Road

      (Children's Classics)

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2017 OK Publishing

      ISBN 978-80-272-3118-8

       THE STORY GIRL

       THE GOLDEN ROAD

      Main TOC

       CHAPTER I.

       CHAPTER II.

       CHAPTER III.

       CHAPTER IV.

       CHAPTER V.

       CHAPTER VI.

       CHAPTER VII.

       CHAPTER VIII.

       CHAPTER IX.

       CHAPTER X.

       CHAPTER XI.

       CHAPTER XII.

       CHAPTER XIII.

       CHAPTER XIV.

       CHAPTER XV.

       CHAPTER XVI.

       CHAPTER XVII.

       CHAPTER XVIII.

       CHAPTER XIX.

       CHAPTER XX.

       CHAPTER XXI.

       CHAPTER XXII.

       CHAPTER XXIII.

       CHAPTER XXIV.

       CHAPTER XXV.

       CHAPTER XXVI.

       CHAPTER XXVII.

       CHAPTER XXVIII.

       CHAPTER XXIX.

       CHAPTER XXX.

       CHAPTER XXXI.

       CHAPTER XXXII.

      “She was a form of life and light

      That seen, became a part of sight,

      And rose, where’er I turn’d mine eye,

      The morning-star of Memory!” — Byron.

      TO MY COUSIN

      Frederica E. Campbell

      IN REMEMBRANCE OF OLD DAYS, OLD DREAMS, AND OLD LAUGHTER

      CHAPTER I.

      THE HOME OF OUR FATHERS

      Table of Contents

      “I do like a road, because you can be always wondering what is at the end of it.”

      The Story Girl said that once upon a time. Felix and I, on the May morning when we left Toronto for Prince Edward Island, had not then heard her say it, and, indeed, were but barely aware of the existence of such a person as the Story Girl. We did not know her at all under that name. We knew only that a cousin, Sara Stanley, whose mother, our Aunt Felicity, was dead, was living down on the Island with Uncle Roger and Aunt Olivia King, on a farm adjoining the old King homestead in Carlisle. We supposed we should get acquainted with her when we reached there, and we had an idea, from Aunt Olivia’s letters to father, that she would be quite a jolly creature. Further than that we did not think about her. We were more interested in Felicity and Cecily and Dan, who lived on the homestead and would therefore be our roofmates for a season.

      But the spirit of the Story Girl’s yet unuttered remark was thrilling in our hearts that morning, as the train pulled out of Toronto. We were faring forth on a long road; and, though we had some idea what would be at the end of it, there was enough glamour of the unknown about it to lend a wonderful charm to our