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Overview
Contents
I. A MYSTERIOUS DOG
II. WHERE THEY FOUND HIS MASTER
III. BEN
IV. HIS STORY
V. BEN GETS A PLACE
VI. A CIRCULATING LIBRARY
VII. NEW FRIENDS TROT IN
VIII. MISS CELIA'S MAN
IX. A HAPPY TEA
X. A HEAVY TROUBLE
XI. SUNDAY
XII. GOOD TIMES
XIII. SOMEBODY RUNS AWAY
XIV. SOMEBODY GETS LOST
XV. BEN'S RIDE
XVI. DETECTIVE THORNTON
XVII. BETTY'S BRAVERY
XVIII. BOWS AND ARROWS
XIX. SPEAKING PIECES
XX. BEN'S BIRTHDAY
XXI. CUPID'S LAST APPEARANCE
XXII. A BOY'S BARGAIN
XXIII. SOMEBODY COMES
XXIV. THE GREAT GATE IS OPENED
UNDER THE LILACS
CHAPTER I
A MYSTERIOUS DOG
The elm-tree avenue was all overgrown, the great gate was never
unlocked, and the old house had been shut up for several years.
Yet voices were heard about the place, the lilacs nodded over the high
wall as if they said, "We could tell fine secrets if we chose," and the
mullein outside the gate made haste to reach the keyhole, that it might
peep in and see what was going on. If it had suddenly grown up like a
magic bean-stalk, and looked in on a certain June day, it would have
seen a droll but pleasant sight, for somebody evidently was going to
have a party.
From the gate to the porch went a wide walk, paved with smooth slabs of
dark stone, and bordered with the tall bushes which met overhead, making
a green roof. All sorts of neglected flowers and wild weeds grew between
their stems, covering the walls of this summer parlor with the prettiest
tapestry. A board, propped on two blocks of wood, stood in the middle of
the walk, covered with a little plaid shawl much the worse for wear, and
on it a miniature tea-service was set forth with great elegance. To be
sure, the tea-pot had lost its spout, the cream-jug its handle, the
sugar-bowl its cover, and the cups and plates were all more or less
cracked or nicked; but polite persons would not take notice of these
trifling deficiencies, and none but polite persons were invited to this
party.
On either side of the porch was a seat, and here a somewhat remarkable
sight would have been revealed to any inquisitive eye peering through
the aforesaid keyhole. Upon the left-hand seat lay seven dolls, upon the
right-hand seat lay six; and so varied were the expressions of their
countenances, owing to fractures, dirt, age, and other afflictions, that
one would very naturally have thought this a doll's hospital, and these
the patients waiting for their tea.
This, however, would have been a sad mistake; for if the wind had lifted
the coverings laid over them, it would have disclosed the fact that all
were in full dress, and merely reposing before the feast should begin.
There was another interesting feature of the scene which would have
puzzled any but those well acquainted with the manners and customs of
dolls. A fourteenth rag baby, with a china head, hung by her neck from
the rusty knocker in the middle of the door. A sprig of white and one of
purple lilac nodded over her, a dress of yellow calico, richly trimmed
with red-flannel scallops, shrouded her slender form, a garland of small
flowers crowned her glossy curls, and a pair of blue boots touched toes
in the friendliest, if not the most graceful, manner. An emotion of
grief, as well as of surprise, might well have thrilled any youthful
breast at such a spectacle; for why, oh! why, was this resplendent dolly
hung up there to be stared at by thirteen of her kindred? Was she a
criminal, the sight of whose execution threw them flat upon their backs
in speechless horror? Or was she an idol, to be adored in that humble
posture? Neither, my friends. She was blonde Belinda, set, or rather
hung, aloft, in the place of honor, for this was her seventh birthday,
and a superb ball was about to celebrate the great event. All were
evidently awaiting a summons to the festive board; but such was the
perfect breeding of these dolls, that not a single eye out of the whole
twenty-seven (Dutch Hans had lost one of the black beads from his
worsted countenance) turned for a moment toward the table, or so much as
winked, as they lay in decorous rows, gazing with mute admiration at
Belinda. She, unable to repress the joy and pride which swelled her
sawdust bosom till the seams gaped, gave an occasional bounce as the
wind waved her yellow skirts, or made the blue boots dance a sort of jig
upon the door.
I. A MYSTERIOUS DOG
II. WHERE THEY FOUND HIS MASTER
III. BEN
IV. HIS STORY
V. BEN GETS A PLACE
VI. A CIRCULATING LIBRARY
VII. NEW FRIENDS TROT IN
VIII. MISS CELIA'S MAN
IX. A HAPPY TEA
X. A HEAVY TROUBLE
XI. SUNDAY
XII. GOOD TIMES
XIII. SOMEBODY RUNS AWAY
XIV. SOMEBODY GETS LOST
XV. BEN'S RIDE
XVI. DETECTIVE THORNTON
XVII. BETTY'S BRAVERY
XVIII. BOWS AND ARROWS
XIX. SPEAKING PIECES
XX. BEN'S BIRTHDAY
XXI. CUPID'S LAST APPEARANCE
XXII. A BOY'S BARGAIN
XXIII. SOMEBODY COMES
XXIV. THE GREAT GATE IS OPENED
UNDER THE LILACS
CHAPTER I
A MYSTERIOUS DOG
The elm-tree avenue was all overgrown, the great gate was never
unlocked, and the old house had been shut up for several years.
Yet voices were heard about the place, the lilacs nodded over the high
wall as if they said, "We could tell fine secrets if we chose," and the
mullein outside the gate made haste to reach the keyhole, that it might
peep in and see what was going on. If it had suddenly grown up like a
magic bean-stalk, and looked in on a certain June day, it would have
seen a droll but pleasant sight, for somebody evidently was going to
have a party.
From the gate to the porch went a wide walk, paved with smooth slabs of
dark stone, and bordered with the tall bushes which met overhead, making
a green roof. All sorts of neglected flowers and wild weeds grew between
their stems, covering the walls of this summer parlor with the prettiest
tapestry. A board, propped on two blocks of wood, stood in the middle of
the walk, covered with a little plaid shawl much the worse for wear, and
on it a miniature tea-service was set forth with great elegance. To be
sure, the tea-pot had lost its spout, the cream-jug its handle, the
sugar-bowl its cover, and the cups and plates were all more or less
cracked or nicked; but polite persons would not take notice of these
trifling deficiencies, and none but polite persons were invited to this
party.
On either side of the porch was a seat, and here a somewhat remarkable
sight would have been revealed to any inquisitive eye peering through
the aforesaid keyhole. Upon the left-hand seat lay seven dolls, upon the
right-hand seat lay six; and so varied were the expressions of their
countenances, owing to fractures, dirt, age, and other afflictions, that
one would very naturally have thought this a doll's hospital, and these
the patients waiting for their tea.
This, however, would have been a sad mistake; for if the wind had lifted
the coverings laid over them, it would have disclosed the fact that all
were in full dress, and merely reposing before the feast should begin.
There was another interesting feature of the scene which would have
puzzled any but those well acquainted with the manners and customs of
dolls. A fourteenth rag baby, with a china head, hung by her neck from
the rusty knocker in the middle of the door. A sprig of white and one of
purple lilac nodded over her, a dress of yellow calico, richly trimmed
with red-flannel scallops, shrouded her slender form, a garland of small
flowers crowned her glossy curls, and a pair of blue boots touched toes
in the friendliest, if not the most graceful, manner. An emotion of
grief, as well as of surprise, might well have thrilled any youthful
breast at such a spectacle; for why, oh! why, was this resplendent dolly
hung up there to be stared at by thirteen of her kindred? Was she a
criminal, the sight of whose execution threw them flat upon their backs
in speechless horror? Or was she an idol, to be adored in that humble
posture? Neither, my friends. She was blonde Belinda, set, or rather
hung, aloft, in the place of honor, for this was her seventh birthday,
and a superb ball was about to celebrate the great event. All were
evidently awaiting a summons to the festive board; but such was the
perfect breeding of these dolls, that not a single eye out of the whole
twenty-seven (Dutch Hans had lost one of the black beads from his
worsted countenance) turned for a moment toward the table, or so much as
winked, as they lay in decorous rows, gazing with mute admiration at
Belinda. She, unable to repress the joy and pride which swelled her
sawdust bosom till the seams gaped, gave an occasional bounce as the
wind waved her yellow skirts, or made the blue boots dance a sort of jig
upon the door.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940013500440 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | SAP |
| Publication date: | 11/19/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 214 KB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888) was an American novelist and poet best known as the author of the novel Little Women and its sequels Little Men and Jo's Boys. Raised by her transcendentalist parents, she grew up among many of the well-known intellectuals of the day such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Henry David Thoreau. Little Women is loosely based on Alcott's childhood experiences with her three sisters.
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