



Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
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NOT QUITE EIGHTEEN.




[Illustration: The fox stared at her, and she stared back at the
fox.--PAGE 16.]




    NOT QUITE EIGHTEEN.

    BY SUSAN COOLIDGE,

    AUTHOR OF "WHAT KATY DID," "THE NEW YEAR'S BARGAIN,"
    "THE BARBERRY BUSH," "A GUERNSEY LILY,"
    "IN THE HIGH VALLEY," ETC.


    BOSTON:
    ROBERTS BROTHERS.
    1894.




    _Copyright, 1894_,
    BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.


    University Press:
    JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.




CONTENTS.


                                                     PAGE

       I. HOW BUNNY BROUGHT GOOD LUCK                   7

      II. A BIT OF WILFULNESS                          30

     III. THE WOLVES OF ST. GERVAS                     42

      IV. THREE LITTLE CANDLES                         62

       V. UNCLE AND AUNT                               83

      VI. THE CORN-BALL MONEY                         111

     VII. THE PRIZE GIRL OF THE HARNESSING CLASS      123

    VIII. DOLLY PHONE                                 142

      IX. A NURSERY TYRANT                            165

       X. WHAT THE PINK FLAMINGO DID                  179

      XI. TWO PAIRS OF EYES                           200

     XII. THE PONY THAT KEPT THE STORE                211

    XIII. PINK AND SCARLET                            227

     XIV. DOLLY'S LESSON                              239

      XV. A BLESSING IN DISGUISE                      252

     XVI. A GRANTED WISH                              269




HOW BUNNY BROUGHT GOOD LUCK.


It was Midsummer's Day, that delightful point toward which the whole
year climbs, and from which it slips off like an ebbing wave in the
direction of the distant winter. No wonder that superstitious people in
old times gave this day to the fairies, for it is the most beautiful day
of all. The world seems full of bird-songs, sunshine, and flower-smells
then; storm and sorrow appear impossible things; the barest and ugliest
spot takes on a brief charm and, for the moment, seems lovely and
desirable.

"That's a picturesque old place," said a lady on the back seat of the
big wagon in which Hiram Swift was taking his summer boarders to drive.

They were passing a low, wide farmhouse, gray from want of paint, with a
shabby barn and sheds attached, all overarched by tall elms. The narrow
hay-field and the vegetable-patch ended in a rocky hillside, with its
steep ledges, overgrown and topped with tall pines and firs, which made
a dense green background to the old buildings.

"I don't know about its being like a picter," said Hiram, dryly, as he
flicked away a fly from the shoulder of his horse, "but it isn't much
by way of a farm. That bit of hay-field is about all the land there is
that's worth anything; the rest is all rock. I guess the Widow Gale
doesn't take much comfort in its bein' picturesque. She'd be glad
enough to have the land made flat, if she could."

"Oh, is that the Gale farm, where the silver-mine is said to be?"

"Yes, marm; at least, it's the farm where the man lived that, 'cordin'
to what folks say, said he'd found a silver-mine. I don't take a great
deal of stock in the story myself."

"A silver-mine! That sounds interesting," said a pretty girl on the
front seat, who had been driving the horses half the way, aided and
abetted by Hiram, with whom she was a prime favorite. "Tell me about it,
Mr. Swift. Is it a story, and when did it all happen?"

"Well, I don't know as it ever did happen," responded the farmer,
cautiously. "All I know for certain is, that my father used to tell a
story that, before I was born (nigh on to sixty years ago, that must
have been), Squire Asy Allen--that used to live up to that red house on
North Street, where you bought the crockery mug, you know, Miss
Rose--come up one day in a great hurry to catch the stage, with a lump
of rock tied in his handkerchief. Old Roger Gale had found it, he said,
and they thought it was silver ore; and the Squire was a-takin' it down
to New Haven to get it analyzed. My father, he saw the rock, but he
didn't think much of it from the looks, till the Squire got back ten
days afterward and said the New Haven professor pronounced it silver,
sure