Kit of Greenacre Farm

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Kit of Greenacre Farm

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Title: Kit of Greenacre Farm
Author: Izola Forrester
Release Date: February 12, 2005 [eBook #15029]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KIT OF GREENACRE FARM***
E-text prepared by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net)

KIT OF GREENACRE FARM
by
IZOLA FORRESTER
The World Syndicate Publishing Co. Cleveland, O. New York, N.Y. George W. Jacobs & Company
1919

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.
"NO TRESPASSING"
II. MRS. GORHAM SMELLS SMOKE
III. KIT RISES TO PROPHESY
IV. THE ORACLE AT DELPHI
V. SHEPHERD SWEETINGS
VI. EXPECTING "KIT"
VII. PERSONALLY CONDUCTED
VIII. AT THE SIGN OF THE MUMMY
IX. ALL SANDY'S FAULT
X. THE DEAN'S OUTPOSTS
XI. "KEEP OUT"
XII. KIT LOCATES A "FOUNDER"
XIII. ENTER THE ROYAL MUMMIES
XIV. IN HONOR OF MARCELLE
XV. THE FAMILY ADVISES
XVI. SHOPPING FOR SHAKESPEARE
XVII. HOPE'S PRIMROSE PATH
XVIII. STANLEY APOLOGIZES
XIX. THE COURT OF APPEAL
XX. HOGS AND HORACE
XXI. THE CIRCLE OF RA
XXII. HEADED FOR GILEAD
XXIII. THE DEAN SEES THE STAR
XXIV. THE TENTS OF GREENACRES
XXV. COAXING THE WILDERNESS
XXVI. PAYING GUESTS
XXVII. HELENITA'S SONG-BIRD
XXVIII. STANLEY PAYS AN OLD SCORE
XXIX. KIT GIVES HER BLESSING
XXX. FACING REALITY
CHAPTER I
"NO TRESPASSING"
Kit was on lookout duty, and had been for the past hour and a half. The cupola room, with its six windows, commanded a panoramic view of the countryside, and from here she had done sentry duty over the huckleberry patch.
It lay to the northeast of the house, a great, rambling, rocky, ten acre lot that straggled unevenly from the wood road down to the river. To the casual onlooker, it seemed just a patch of underbrush. There were half-grown birches all over it, and now and then a little dwarf spruce tree or cluster of hazel bushes. But to the girls of Greenacres, that ten acre lot represented a treasure trove in the month of August when huckleberries and blueberries were ripe. Shad said knowing the proper time to pick huckleberries was just born in one, so the girls had guarded the old pasture from any marauding youngsters or wayside peddlers.
"You've got to keep a good eye out for them this year," Shad warned them. "Last year wasn't good for huckleberries, apples or nuts, but this is going to be a regular jubilee harvest. Them bushes up there are hanging so full that you can put up quarts and quarts and quarts of them and send huckleberry pies to the heathen all winter if you want to."
And he had likewise warned them that that particular berry patch had been famous throughout the countryside ever since the days when Greenacres had belonged to the Trowbridges. Several times when it had happened to be a good year for the huckleberry crop, raiders had swept down and culled the best of the harvest. Not from around the near-by villages had they come, but from the small towns, ten or fifteen miles away.
"Them mill boys and girls," Shad declared, "just think that the Lord grows things in the country for anybody to come along and pick. They don't pay no more attention to a 'No Trespassing' sign than they would to a woodchuck's tracks. The only thing to do is watch, and when you see 'em turn in through the bars off the main road, you come down and let me know, and telephone over for Hannibal Hicks to come and ketch 'em. Hannibal ain't doin' nothin' to earn his fifteen dollars a year as constable 'round here, and we ought to help him out if we can."
So to-day, it was Kit's turn to watch the huckleberry patch from the cupola room, and along towards three o'clock she beheld a trig-looking red-wheeled, black-bodied wagon, drawn unmistakably by a livery horse, pull up at the pasture bars, and its driver calmly and shamelessly hitch there. He took out of the wagon not a burlap bag, but a tan leather hand bag of generous size, and also something else that looked like a capacious box with a handle to it.
"Camouflage," said Kit to herself, scornfully. "He's going to fill them with our berries, and then make believe he's selling books."
Down-stairs she sped with the news. Doris was out at the barn negotiating peace terms with a half-grown calf that she had been trying to tame for days, and which still persisted in butting its head every time she came near it with friendly overtures. Jean and Helen had gone up to Norwich with Mrs. Robbins for the day, and her father was out in the apple orchard with Philemon Weaver, spraying the trees against the attacks of the gypsy moths. Leastwise, Philemon held to