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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 1 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 2 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 3 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 5 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Item 6 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Item 7 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 8 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 9 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 10 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 11 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 12 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 13 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 14 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 15 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item 16 - Indian Fair in The High Road
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Indian Fair in The High Road

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Item’s are ‘child’ level descriptions to ‘parent’ objects, (e.g. one page of a whole book).

  • 4 Lark on the Wing By Gladys Hasty Carroll I llustration by William E. Fay SAY! Say, Margaret! Wait a minute, can't you?" "Why, yes, Jen! ... I didn't see her coming, did you, Barbara? . . . Jen, don't run so—there's time enough." "I know, but—I knew you'd—be anxious—to get your—supper—started. I don't mean to—hinder you —any. I just had—" Jen's breath left her in a small gasp. Smiling and speechless, she caught up with the other two, halfway! along a path that crossed the meadows below the Shaw place. It was April, and long-stemmed violets tangled together in purple mats on the banks of the ditches. Even as late in the day as this the air was warm. Drops of perspiration stood out on Jen's upper lip. She wiped them away with the back of one hand, holding out a package to Margaret with the other. "What's this?" Margaret asked. "O, dear, Jen, you shouldn't have hurried so. It seems as if you never save yourself. It's hot to-night, too. The season's early." "Isn't it? Father's started planting," Jen said. "A week ahead of last year—we had it marked in the almanac—and we thought last year was early. Ed says you folks are going to get your corn in right off." "To-morrow," Margaret declared. "I'm going to let the baking go, and help him out in the field all day. Barbara says she'll tend my beans." TEN turned cordially toward the other girl. "If you want to send your pot over when you get it ready in the morning, Margaret," she said, "I can bake yours along with mine as well as not. Then Barbara could go out with you and Ed. You might get the whole piece sowed and covered before night, that way." "Well, I don't know," Margaret hesitated. "That's good of you, Jen, I'm sure, but I don't know as Barbara would want to. Would you, Barbara?" Now they were both looking at the one who did not quite seem to belong with them. She had thrust her hands deep into the inner pockets of a plaid cape, and was slowly brushing pebbles off the path with the toe of her shoe. "I don't care," she said politely, but without looking up. "I'll do anything you say, of course." "No, Barbara," Margaret exclaimed instantly, half " The lark's on the wing, the snail's on the thorn, morning's at seven; the hillside's dew-pearled, God's in his heaven—all's right with the world!" in impatience and half in distress. " Do whichever you like, child. Jen will take care of my beans, and you needn't do anything but—but sleep, or take a walk, or read a magazine. We want to please you, Barbara— if you'll only say what you want." "I don't care, Mrs. Shaw," the girl repeated in the same tone. "Any way is all right." Margaret looked at Jen without speaking. It was as if she said despairingly: "There! You see!" "Well, I'll tell you, Margaret," Jen said cheerfully. "Why don't you leave the beans with Barbara? Sort of for company, you know. If I ever do get lonesome, I always put something into the oven to bake. It's the best cure I know. And then you and Ed make a day of it outdoors together." She straightened up. "Well, I can hear my milk pails rattle away up here, and it's getting too warm to let milk set round. Good night. Good night, Barbara." She was already a rod or two down the path when Margaret called out, "But what's this package, Jen?" "Nothing," Jen answered. "Just gingerbread, that's all. I can stir up two cakes as well as one, and I thought you folks could maybe eat some hot for your supper. It wouldn't go bad to put up for a picnic lunch to-morrow, either. You'd better make a day of it, like I told you." "O, Jen—" Margaret said gratefully. But Jen was whistling as she ran, ard did not hear. Margaret looked after her, hesitating, then sighed quietly and started again on her way. The other girl followed, her eyes still on the ground. TJULLO, there, schoolma'am!" A square-built young fellow above medium height stepped out of the bushes, an ax in his hand, f4]
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Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).

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Great Smoky Mountains - A Park for America

This digital collection was created to contribute to the public's understanding of the forces and ideas that led to the establishment of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in 1934. The most vi...

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