This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1917 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER X THE darling girl has her nose forever in that God-blessed book, my dear Charles," pointed out Andrew McAllister, mentioning the volume in tones of anything but benediction, notwithr standing. It was late afternoon, hot of course, and the three of them were on Laurie's broad veranda which ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1917 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER X THE darling girl has her nose forever in that God-blessed book, my dear Charles," pointed out Andrew McAllister, mentioning the volume in tones of anything but benediction, notwithr standing. It was late afternoon, hot of course, and the three of them were on Laurie's broad veranda which made up in coolness what it lacked in style, a breeze sweeping over it from the lake all day long and, better still, all night long. With his silvery papal head propped in a pale, lean hand, The McAllister still sat at the little chess table, staring fascinatedly at the black bishop that had just mated him; Roycroft, looking particularly young, handsome and wwpapal by contrast, stood opposite, ready to go; Laurie, not far distant, sat on the porch railing, hugging a post for support, and frowning fiercely into the pages of "Citrus Culture in Florida." "Only my nose?" she asked, not lifting her eyes. "It's a wonder my heart, hands and two feet aren't in it too! Talk about wanting the moon--! why orange trees want the whole solar system, and what's more they manage to get it or you go under. This last half hour I've found out that if you don't spray for white fly by the tenth of the month, your cake is dough; if you don't mulch for cut-worm by the eleventh, your goose is cooked; if you don't powwow for wozzle bug by the twelfth, your middle name is Mud; and so on through the remainder of the three hundred and sixty-five days." "Wozzle bug!" hissed The McAllister, quite whizzing it out through circular lips, and boring into Roycroft with a gimlet glance. "What is a wozzle bug?" "Only Miss Laurie knows," responded Roycroft, going over to her. "And she won't tell," she said, not closing the book but relieving herself of it by placing it over the...
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