Canadian

Frances Farquhar was a beauty and was sometimes called a society butterfly by people who didn’t know very much about it. Her father was wealthy and her mother came of an extremely blue-blooded family. Frances had been out for three…

“Well, Miss Maxwell, how did you get along today?” asked Mr. Baxter affably, when the new teacher came to the table. She was a slight, dark girl, rather plain-looking, but with a smart, energetic way. Mr. Baxter approved of her;…

Estella was waiting under the poplars at the gate for Spencer Morgan. She was engaged to him, and he always came to see her on Saturday and Wednesday evenings. It was after sunset, and the air was mellow and warm-hued.…

When I was a child I always thought a visit to Wyther Grange was a great treat. It was a big, quiet, old-fashioned house where Grandmother Laurance and Mrs. DeLisle, my Aunt Winnifred, lived. I was a favourite with them,…

“You might as well try to move the rock of Gibraltar as attempt to change Uncle Abimelech’s mind when it is once made up,” said Murray gloomily. Murray is like dear old Dad; he gets discouraged rather easily. Now, I’m…

Cousin Myra had come to spend Christmas at “The Firs,” and all the junior Osbornes were ready to stand on their heads with delight. Darby—whose real name was Charles—did it, because he was only eight, and at eight you have…

Fir Cottage, Plover Sands. July Sixth. We arrived here late last night, and all day Aunt Martha has kept her room to rest. So I had to keep mine also, although I felt as fresh as a morning lark, and…

Margaret always maintains that it was a direct inspiration of Providence that took her across the street to see Aunt Beatrice that night. And Aunt Beatrice believes that it was too. But the truth of the matter is that Margaret…

The square, bare front room of the Baxter Station Hotel—so called because there was no other house in the place to dispute the title—was filled with men. Some of them were putting up at the hotel while they worked at…