Daddy's Girl

      L. T. Meade
Daddys Girl

L. T. Meade was the pseudonym of Elizabeth Thomasina Meade Smith, a prolific writer of girls' stories. She was born in Bandon, County Cork, Ireland, daughter of Rev. R. T. Meade, of Nohoval, County Cork. Collection of 35 Works of L. T. Meade________________________________________A Big TemptationA Bunch of CherriesA Girl in Ten ThousandA Girl of the PeopleA Life For a LoveA Little Mother to the OthersA Master of MysteriesA Plucky GirlA Sweet Girl GraduateA Very Naughty GirlA World of GirlsA Young MutineerBetty VivianDaddy's GirlDickory DockFrances Kane's FortuneGirls of the ForestGood LuckHollyhockHow It All Came RoundLight O' The MorningPollyRed Rose and Tiger LilySue, A Little HeroineThe Children of Wilton ChaseThe Children's PilgrimageThe Honorable MissThe Lady of the ForestThe Little Princess of Tower HillThe Palace BeautifulThe Rebel of the SchoolThe School QueensThe Time of RosesWild HeatherWild Kitty
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    A Very Naughty Girl

      L. T. Meade
A Very Naughty Girl

This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.
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    A Modern Tomboy: A Story for Girls

      L. T. Meade
A Modern Tomboy: A Story for Girls

A Modern Tomboy - A Story for Girls is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by L. T. Meade is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of L. T. Meade then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.
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    Wild Kitty

      L. T. Meade
Wild Kitty

Bessie! Bessie! "Yes, mother," replied Bessie Challoner. "You'll be late for school, child, if you are not quick." "Bessie!" shouted her father at the top of his voice from below stairs. "Bessie; late as usual." "I am really going, father; I am just ready," was the eager reply. Bessie caught up her sailor hat, shoved it carelessly over her mass of thick hair, and searched frantically round her untidy bedroom for the string bag which contained her schoolbooks. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.
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    A Girl in Ten Thousand

      L. T. Meade
A Girl in Ten Thousand

"You are the comfort of my life, Effie. If you make up your mind to go away, what is to become of me?" The speaker was a middle-aged woman. She was lying on a sofa in a shabby little parlor. The sofa was covered with horse-hair, the room had a faded paper, and faded chintz covered the shabby furniture. The woman's pleading words were emphasized by her tired eyes and worn face. She looked full at the young girl to whom she spoke. "What shall I do without you, and what will your father say?" "I have made up my mind," said Effie. "I don't want to be unkind to you, mother,—I love you more than words can say,—but I must go out into the world. I must live my life like other girls." "You had none of these ideas until you met Dorothy Fraser." "Yes, I have had them for a long time; Dorothy has given them emphasis, that's all. Dorothy's mother did not like her to go away, but now she is glad. She says that nothing has made Dorothy into so fine a woman as taking her life into her own hands, and making the best she can of it. Before I go, mother, I will get Agnes to learn all my duties; she shall help you. She is nearly fourteen; she ought to be of use to you, ought she not?" "She would not be like you," replied Mrs. Staunton. "She is very young, remember, and is at school most of the day. I won't argue with you, Effie, but it tires me even to think of it." Effie sighed. She bent down and kissed her mother. Her words had sounded hard and almost defiant, but there was nothing at all hard or defiant about her sweet face. She was a dark-eyed girl, and looked as if she might be any age between seventeen and twenty. There was a likeness between her and her mother quite sufficient to show their relationship; both faces were softly curved, both pairs of eyes were dark, and the mother must have been even prettier in her youth than the daughter was now. "As I say," continued Mrs. Staunton, "it fills me with terror to think of doing without you." "Try not to think of it, mother. I am not going yet, I only want to go very much indeed. I am going to talk to father about it. I want to have the thing arranged while Dorothy is here." Here Effie went suddenly on her knees by the sofa and threw one young arm protectingly round her mother. "You do not know what it means to me," she said. "When Dorothy talks of the full life, the keen interest, the battle, the thrill of living, I feel that I must go into it—I must." While Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton looked fixedly at her. There are moments which all mothers know, when they put themselves completely out of sight, when they blot themselves out, as it were. This time had come to Mrs. Staunton now. After a pause, she said, and her words came out even without a sigh: "The question, after all, is this, Effie: What will your father say?" "When he thinks it out carefully he will be pleased," replied Effie. "He must be interested in the profession I want to take up. How often—oh, how often, mother—has he groaned and sighed at the bad nursing which his patients get! You know you have always said, and he has said the same, that I am a born nurse. Won't he be proud and pleased when I come home and tell him all about the new ways in which things are done in London hospitals? You know there are six of us, and Agnes and Katie are growing up, and can take my place at home presently. Of course I know that father is quite the cleverest doctor in Whittington, but nobody gets ill here, and it is quite impossible to go on clothing and feeding six of us with no means at all. I do not think I am vain, mother, and I do not really care very much about dress, but mine is shabby, is it not? I think I should look pretty—as pretty as you must have looked long ago—if I were better dressed." "No dress can change your face," said Mrs. Staunton, with sudden passion. "You have the sweetest and dearest face in the world to me."
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    The Camp Fire Girls on a Yacht

      L. T. Meade
The Camp Fire Girls on a Yacht

“Oh! Jack, Ellen, come here this instant!” cried Jane Pellew in so excited a manner that the mail rider almost fell out of his jumper in his effort to see what it was that made Miss Jane “take on so.” She was dancing around the broad old veranda waving one of the letters he had just handed her. “Too hot, Sis, and we are too comfortable,” came Jack’s lazy voice from under the big ash tree that shaded one side of the porch.
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    Betty Vivian: A Story of Haddo Court School

      L. T. Meade
Betty Vivian: A Story of Haddo Court School

Betty Vivian - A Story of Haddo Court School is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by L. T. Meade is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of L. T. Meade then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.
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    Girls of the True Blue

      L. T. Meade
Girls of the True Blue

“And how is she to-day, Nan?” said the kindly voice of Mrs. Richmond.The time was early spring. The lady in question had come into a dark and somewhat dismal room; she herself was richly wrapped in furs and velvet; her large, smooth face was all beams and smiles. A dark little girl with thin cheeks, about eleven years of age, clasping a battered doll in her arms, looked full up at her.
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    The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls

      L. T. Meade
The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls

EARLY DAYS. The three girls were called after flowers. This is how it came about: When Primrose opened her eyes on the world she brought back a little bit of spring to her mother's heart. Mrs. Mainwaring had gone through a terrible trouble—a trouble so dark and mysterious, so impossible to feel reconciled to, that her health had been almost shattered, and she had almost said good-bye to hope. The baby came in the spring-time, and the soft, velvety touch of the little face, and the sight of the round baby limbs, had made Mrs. Mainwaring smile: had caused her to pluck up heart, and to determine resolutely to take this new blessing, and to begin to live again. The baby came in the month of March, just when the primroses were beginning to open their pale and yet bright blossoms. Mrs. Mainwaring said that the child was a symbol of spring to her, and she called her Primrose. The next girl was born in Italy, in the middle of a rich and brilliant summer. Flowers were everywhere, and the baby, a black-haired, dark-eyed little mite, had a starry look about her. She was called Jasmine, and the name from the very first suited her exactly. The third and youngest of the sisters also came in the summer, but she was born in an English cottage. Her mother, who had been rich when Jasmine was born, was now poor; that is, she was poor as far as money is concerned, but the three little daughters made her feel rich. She called the child from the first her little country wild flower, and allowed Primrose and Jasmine to select her name. They brought in handfuls of field daisies, and begged to have the baby called after them. The three girls grew up in the little country cottage. Their father was in India, in a very unhealthy part of the country. He wrote home by every mail, and in each letter expressed a hope that the Government under which he served would allow him to return to England and to his wife and children. Death, however, came first to the gallant captain. When Primrose was ten years old, and Daisy was little more than a baby, Mrs. Mainwaring found herself in the humble position of an officer's widow, with very little to live on besides her pension. In the Devonshire village, however, things were cheap, rents were low, and the manners of life deliciously fresh and primitive. Primrose, Jasmine, and Daisy grew up something like the flowers, taking no thought for the morrow, and happy in the grand facts that they were alive, that they were perfectly healthy, and that the sun shone and the sweet fresh breezes blew for them. They were as primitive as the little place where they lived, and cared nothing at all for fashionably-cut dresses; or for what people who think themselves wiser would have called the necessary enjoyments of life. Mrs. Mainwaring, who had gone through a terrible trouble before the birth of her eldest girl, had her nerves shattered a second time by her husband's death; from that moment she was more ruled by her girls than a ruler to them. They did pretty much what they pleased, and she was content that they should make themselves happy in their own way....
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    Three Girls from School

      L. T. Meade
Three Girls from School

A story which centers about a trio of English school girls. The most intellectual of the three learns that she must leave school for financial reasons; the wealthy one learns that by winning a certain prize her cherished hope of leaving school and traveling with an aunt in France will be realized; while the third, an unscrupulous minx, is a go-between who bribes the honest Priscilla to turn over her essay to the girl whose pleasure depends upon winning the prize, in consideration for which Priscilla is to remain in school.
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    The Gold Kloof

      L. T. Meade
The Gold Kloof

It was a fine, hot July day on the banks of the Severn river at Tewkesbury, that quaint, old-world, and somewhat decayed town, which offers to the inspection of the visitor and the archæologist some of the most ancient and interesting buildings to be seen in any part of broad England. There was some stir on the banks of the river, for two public schools, one of them situate in the west of England, the other hailing from a Midland shire, were about to contest with one another in their annual boat race. From the Western school a considerable contingent of lads had come over; these were discussing, with the enthusiasm of schoolboys, the prospects of the races. On the banks, gathered near the winning-post, were also to be seen a number of other spectators, some from the town itself, others from the neighbouring country-side.The fateful moment at length had come; the two boats were to be seen in the distance, their oarsmen battling with one another with all the desperate energy that youth and strength and an invincible determination could put into their task. As they drew nearer it was to be seen that the Midland school was leading by nearly half a length. A quarter of a mile remained to be rowed. Loud cries from the Western school resounded along the banks. Hope struggled against hope in every youthful breast; yet it seemed that if the oarsmen of the Western school were to make that final effort for which they were famous, it was now almost too late. But, no! the Western stroke is seen to be calling upon his crew; their flashing blades dip quicker, and yet quicker; they are well together, all apparently animated by the vigour and the reserve of force displayed by their leader. Foot by foot they diminish the lead of their adversaries, who are striving desperately, yet ineffectually, to retain their advantage. A hundred yards from the winning-post the Western lads are level; and as the post is passed they have defeated their adversaries, after one of the finest races ever rowed between the two schools, by a quarter of a length.Amid the exultant and tremendous cheering that now greets the triumph of the Western school, both crews paddle to the boat-house and disembark. The boats are got out and housed, and all but the Western captain and stroke, Guy Hardcastle, are inside the boathouse, bathing and changing their clothes. Guy Hardcastle, a strong, well-set-up lad of seventeen, lingers on the platform in conversation with his house-master, Mr. Brimley-Fair, who has come down to congratulate him on his victory. He is a good-looking lad, fresh complexioned, with fair brown hair, a firm mouth, and a pair of steady, blue-gray eyes, which look the world frankly in the face, with an aspect of candour, friendliness, and self-reliance that most people find very attractive.CONTENTS1. School Days2. Bamborough Farm3. Up-country Life4. The Gold Spoor5. The Trek Begins6. The Shadowers and the Shadowed7. Adventures in the Veldt8. The Elephant Country9. In the Thirst-land10. Tom's Story.--The Baboon Boy11. The Berg Damaras12. The Lion Camp13. Guy is Missing14. Poeskop to the Rescue15. The Kloof16. Gathering Gold17. The Shadowers' Attack18. The Last of Karl Engelbrecht19. Homeward Bound
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    A Bevy of Girls

      L. T. Meade
A Bevy of Girls

A Bevy of Girls by L.T. Meadefiction, novel, Girls, Mother, classic, Sympathy, lifeThe Departure.The girls stood in a cluster round Miss Aldworth. They surrounded her to right and left, both before and behind. She was a tall, dark-eyed, grave looking girl herself; her age was about twenty. The girls were schoolgirls; they were none of them more than fifteen years of age. They adored Marcia Aldworth; she was the favourite teacher in the school. She was going away to England suddenly, her mother was very ill, and she might not return. The girls all spoke to her in her native tongue. They belonged to several nationalities; some German, some French, some Dutch, some Hungarian; there was a sprinkling of Spanish girls and a good many English. The school was supposed to be conducted on English principles, and the head teacher was an Englishwoman.There was a distant sound of music in the concert room not far away, but the girls, the principal girls of the school, took no notice of it.“You will write to us, dear, dear Marcia,” said Gunda Lehman. “I’ll forget all my English and I’ll make all sorts of mistakes. You’ll write to me, and if I send you an English letter you’ll correct it, won’t you, dear, dear Miss?”Miss Aldworth made the necessary promise, which was echoed from one to another amongst the girls. There was an American girl with a head of tousled hair, very bright china-blue eyes, and a sort of mocking face. She had not spoken at all up to the present, but now she came forward, took Miss Aldworth’s hand, and said:“I’ll never forget you, and if ever you come to my country be sure you ask for me, Marie M. Belloc. I won’t forget you, and you won’t forget me, will you?”“No, I won’t forget you, Marie. I’ll ask for you if ever I come to your country.”Miss Aldworth moved off into the hall. Here the head mistress began to speak to her.“Move aside, girls,” she said, “move aside. You have said your good-byes. Oh, here are your flowers—”CONTENTSThe Departure.Share and Share Alike.Taking Mother.A Refreshing Tea.Seeking Sympathy.The Joy of her Life.Shirking Duty.A Feast to Delight the Eyes.The Truth about Mrs Aldworth.An Alarming Attack.Repentance and Afterwards.The New Leaf.A Surprise Visit.The Introduction.An Unwelcome Caller.Troublesome Consequences.Relief Intercepted.Seaside Anticipations.Nesta’s Cunning Scheme.The Missing Sovereign.Nurse Comforter.Wrong Set Right.Nesta Lost Again.An Uneasy Conscience.Nemesis.In Hiding.Unaccustomed Fare.Applying for a Situation.Making Sunshine All Round.Found at last.The Best of them All.
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    Mary Lee the Red Cross Girl

      L. T. Meade
Mary Lee the Red Cross Girl

Leopold Classic Library is delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive collection. As part of our on-going commitment to delivering value to the reader, we have also provided you with a link to a website, where you may download a digital version of this work for free. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. Whilst the books in this collection have not been hand curated, an aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature. As a result of this book being first published many decades ago, it may have occasional imperfections. These imperfections may include poor picture quality, blurred or missing text. While some of these imperfections may have appeared in the original work, others may have resulted from the scanning process that has been applied. However, our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. While some publishers have applied optical character recognition (OCR), this approach has its own drawbacks, which include formatting errors, misspelt words, or the presence of inappropriate characters. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with an experience that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic book, and that the occasional imperfection that it might contain will not detract from the experience.
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    The Lady of the Forest: A Story for Girls

      L. T. Meade
The Lady of the Forest: A Story for Girls

Leopold Classic Library is delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive collection. As part of our on-going commitment to delivering value to the reader, we have also provided you with a link to a website, where you may download a digital version of this work for free. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. Whilst the books in this collection have not been hand curated, an aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature. As a result of this book being first published many decades ago, it may have occasional imperfections. These imperfections may include poor picture quality, blurred or missing text. While some of these imperfections may have appeared in the original work, others may have resulted from the scanning process that has been applied. However, our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. While some publishers have applied optical character recognition (OCR), this approach has its own drawbacks, which include formatting errors, misspelt words, or the presence of inappropriate characters. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with an experience that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic book, and that the occasional imperfection that it might contain will not detract from the experience.
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    Maud Florence Nellie; or, Don't care!

      L. T. Meade
Maud Florence Nellie; or, Dont care!

Leopold Classic Library is delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive collection. As part of our on-going commitment to delivering value to the reader, we have also provided you with a link to a website, where you may download a digital version of this work for free. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. Whilst the books in this collection have not been hand curated, an aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature. As a result of this book being first published many decades ago, it may have occasional imperfections. These imperfections may include poor picture quality, blurred or missing text. While some of these imperfections may have appeared in the original work, others may have resulted from the scanning process that has been applied. However, our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. While some publishers have applied optical character recognition (OCR), this approach has its own drawbacks, which include formatting errors, misspelt words, or the presence of inappropriate characters. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with an experience that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic book, and that the occasional imperfection that it might contain will not detract from the experience.
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    David's Little Lad

      L. T. Meade
Davids Little Lad

This is the Story within the Story.Yes, I, Gwladys, must write it down; the whole country has heard of it, the newspapers have been full of it, and from the highest to the lowest in the land, people have spoken of the noble deed done by a few Welsh miners. But much as the country knows, and glad and proud as the country is, I don’t think she knows quite all—not exactly what mother and I know; she does not know the heart history of those ten days. This is the story within the other well-known story, which I want to write here.On a certain sunny afternoon in September, 1876, I was seated up in the window of the old nursery. I say in the window, for I had got my body well up on the deep oak seat, had flattened my nose against the pane, and was gazing with a pair of dismal eyes down on the sea, and on some corn-fields and hay-fields, which in panoramic fashion stretched before my vision.Yes, I was feeling gloomy, and my first remark, after an interval of silence, was decidedly in keeping with my face and heart.“Gwen,” I said, “what is it to be buried alive?” Gwen, who was singing her charge to sleep to a lively Welsh air, neither heeded nor heard me.“Gwen!” I repeated in a louder key.“Men are false and oft ungrateful, Derry derry dando,”sang Gwen, rocking the baby, as she sang, in the most dexterous manner.Gwen had a beautiful voice, and I liked the old air, so I stayed my impatient question to listen.“Maids are coy and oft deceitful, Derry derry dando, Few there are who love sincerely, Down a derry down.Say not so, I love thee dearly, Derry derry down down, Derry down down derry.”“None but thee torment and teaze me, Derry derry dando,”I shouted in my impetuous manner, and leaving my seat, I went noisily to her side.“Gwen, I will be heard. I have not another soul to speak to, and you are so cross and disagreeable. What is it to be buried alive?”“’Tis just like you, Gwladys,” said Gwen, rising indignantly. “Just after two hours of it, when I was getting the darling precious lamb off to sleep, you’ve gone and awoke him. Dear, dear! good gracious! there never was such a maid!”Gwen retired with the disturbed and wailing baby into the night nursery, and I was left alone.“None but thee torment and teaze me, Derry derry dando,”I sang after her.fiction, classic, novel, boy, action, adventure, childrenCONTENTSThis is the Story within the Story.David, I am Tired of Tynycymmer.Some Day, you will See that he is Noble.Owen is Coming Home.Why did you Hesitate?Gwen’s Dream.Very New and very Interesting.I said I would do much for these Children.Earth Air Fire Water.Little Twenty.They Talked of Money.You are Changed to me.Pride’s Pit.The Eye-Well.That Man was Owen.The Little Lad.Sight to the Blind.Our Father.A Rich Vein of Coal.The Jordan River.The Lord was not in the Wind.The Lord was not in the Fire.After the Fire—A Still, Small Voice.
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