His mother looked up from the table where she was cutting out pie crust, and asked in surprise, “What do you mean, Grant? Why is to-day any different from ordinary days?”
His mother looked up from the table where she was cutting out pie crust, and asked in surprise, “What do you mean, Grant? Why is to-day any different from ordinary days?”
"Mother, this is an important day for me," said Grant Colburn, as he entered the kitchen with an armful of wood, and deposited it in the box behind the stove.
His mother looked up from the table where she was cutting out pie crust, and asked in surprise, "What do you mean, Grant? Why is to-day any different from ordinary days?"
"I am sixteen to-day, mother!"
"So you are, Grant. I ought to have thought of it. I am sorry," she added wistfully, "that I haven't got a present for you, but you know Mr. Tarbox--"
"Is the stingiest man in the country. Yes, I know that well enough."
2"I actually haven't a cent that I can call my own, Grant."
"I know that very well, mother. It was an unlucky day when you married that old skinflint."
"Don't call him that, Grant," said his mother, with an apprehensive look in the direction of the door.
"He's all that, and more if possible. When did he give you any money last?"
"Two weeks ago."
"And how much did he give you at that time?"
"Twenty-five cents."
"What a shame! Why, if you had hired out as his housekeeper he would have been compelled to give you more."
"Yes, Grant," sighed Mrs. Tarbox, "I wish I were his housekeeper instead of his wife. I should be more independent."
"He made a good bargain when he married you, mother. But I never understood why you married him."
"I acted for the best, as I thought, Grant. You know how your poor father left us. 3After his affairs were settled, there were only two hundred and fifty dollars left, and you were but twelve years old. I took in sewing, and earned what I could, but at the end of a year I had used up a hundred dollars of our small capital. Then Mr. Tarbox asked me to marry him, and I agreed, for I thought it would give us a comfortable home."
"A comfortable home!" repeated Grant. "We have enough to eat, it is true, but you never worked so hard in your life, and I can say the same for myself. I was barely fourteen when Mr. Tarbox took me away from school, and since then I have had to work early and late. At five o'clock, winter and summer, I have to turn out of bed, and work all day, so that when night comes I am dead tired."
"That is true, Grant," said his mother, with a look of distress. "You work too hard for a boy of your age."
"And what do I get for it?" continued Grant indignantly. "I haven't any clothes. Charlie Titus asked me the other day why I didn't go to church. I was ashamed to tell him 4that it was because I had no clothes fit to wear there. It is a year since I had my last suit, and now I have grown out of it. My coat is too short in the sleeves, and my pantaloons in the legs."
"Perhaps I can lengthen them out, Grant."
"You did it six months ago. There is no more chance. No, I'll tell you what I am going to do. I'll ask Mr. Tarbox for a new suit, and as it is my birthday, perhaps he will open his heart and be generous for once."
"It is a good plan, Grant. There he is now, out by the well curb."
"Then I'll speak at once. Wish me luck, mother."
"I do, my son. I heartily wish you good luck now and always."
Grant opened the side door, and went out into the yard. Seth Tarbox looked up, and his glance fell upon his step-son.
"Come here, Grant," he said, "I want you to turn the grindstone while I sharpen my scythe."
"Wait a minute, Mr. Tarbox. I want to speak to you."
5"Go ahead! You can speak if you want to," said Tarbox, slightly surprised.
"It is my birthday to-day."
"Is it? How old be you?"
"Sixteen."
"A boy of sixteen ought to do a great deal of work. Why, you are 'most a man."
"I do a good deal of work, Mr. Tarbox, but I don't seem to get much pay for it."
"Hey? You want pay? Why, don't you get your victuals and clothes?"
"I get my victuals, yes. But I don't get clothes, and that is just what I want to speak to you about."
Mr. Tarbox began to grow uneasy. He knew what was coming.
"What have you got on, I'd like to know?" he inquired.
"Some rags and overalls," answered Grant bluntly.
"They're good enough to work in. You've got a suit to wear Sundays."
"Have I? It's hardly fit to wear common days. Why, it's a year since I had the suit, and I've outgrown it."
6"I'm afraid you're getting proud, Grant," said his step-father uneasily.
"I'm not proud of my clothes, I can tell you that. Mr. Tarbox, I've worked for you the last year early and late, and I think I ought to have a new suit. It will make a nice birthday present."
"Money's very skerce, Grant," said his step-father uneasily, "and clothes are very high. I gave twelve dollars for that last suit of yours. It came hard. Think how long it takes to earn twelve dollars. I haven't had a suit myself for ten months."
"But you can have one if you want it."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Grant," said Mr. Tarbox, with a bright idea. "You're 'most as big as I am. You're unusually large for your age. I'll buy a new suit for myself, and give you mine. Your mother can fix it over to fit you."
Grant's face assumed a look of disgust.
"Thank you, Mr. Tarbox," he said, "but I don't want to wear your old clothes. If I can't have a new suit I don't want any."
"'Pears to me you're mighty particular."
7"I don't think so. I only want what's right. Most boys of my age have at least two new suits a year. Charlie Titus had three."
"Then his father's very foolish to gratify his love of finery. Come, we'd better go to work."
"You haven't answered my question yet, Mr. Tarbox."
"What is it?" asked Tarbox peevishly.
"Will you buy me a new suit?"
"Wait two or three months, Grant."
"Why should I wait two or three months? I need the clothes now."
"Money may be easier then."
"I am not willing to wait."
"'Pears to me you're very headstrong, Grant Colburn," said the farmer in a tone of displeasure.
"I want my rights. I won't work if you are going to deal so closely with me."
Seth Tarbox frowned, and looked perplexed. But presently an idea came to him and his face smoothed.
"Perhaps we can fix it, Grant," he said in a conciliatory tone.
8Grant felt encouraged. It looked as if his request were to be granted.
"I shall be very much obliged to you," he said.
"Wait a minute! You aint got my idea. Your mother has money."
"What if she has?" asked Grant suspiciously.
"If she will lend you ten or twelve dollars to buy a suit I'll make it up to her in, say three or four months."
Grant's face darkened. He knew very well that the money never would be repaid, and he penetrated the crafty design of his step-father.
"No, Mr. Tarbox," he said. "My mother's money must not be touched. There's little enough of it, and I don't want her to run the risk of losing it."
"But she won't lose it. Didn't I say I would pay it back?"
"Why can't you advance the money yourself?"
"Didn't I tell you money was skerce?" said Seth Tarbox irritably.
"I know you've got money in two savings 9banks, besides some railroad bonds. Tom Wilson told me the other day that you had over five thousand dollars in money and bonds."
"Tom Wilson don't know anything about my affairs," said Tarbox hastily. "I'll think it over, Grant, and mebbe-I won't promise-I'll see what I can do for you. Now we'll go to work. It's a sin to be idle."
Frank Fowler leaves his small town home shortly after the death of the only mother he has ever known to make his fortune in New York. These small town adventures are fully loaded with stock Alger characters...
Alger is the original rags-to-riches guy, often credited with inventing the strive-and-succeed spirit that inspired boys to work hard and advance themselves in order to achieve the American Dream. This theme resonates throughout his numerous writings. This story features Phil, a twelve-year-old Italian boy whose poor parents sold him to a Faginesque-like character called the padrone. The padrone has a gang of boys who he sends out each day with the edict that they earn $2. Phil earns his money by playing his fiddle. After many adventures with his friends, including Paul the Peddler, he finally manages to escape the bonds of the padrone. The See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.
A short story, set in the USA. A young man in a private school learns that his guardian has lost his inheritance in some poor business dealing; as a result, there is no money left and he must leave the school to make his own way in the world. The story follows his adventures as he escapes being cheated, but is then accused of theft for which another is guilty. Of course, he lands on his feet and builds himself a circle of friends and makes his fortune.
This scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing's Legacy Reprint Series. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment to protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature. Kessinger Publishing is the place to find hundreds of thousands of rare and hard-to-find books with something of interest for everyone!
I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
Livia Shelby, 19, is forced into marriage with Damian Alexander - a ruthless CEO with a cold heart. Hate simmers beneath the surface, and sometimes it blurs the line between resentment and desire. But what happens when the love that grows between them is bound by a contract... and forbidden to be spoken? Author's Note: This book has been previously published on several platforms. This version is a revised and improved edition.
Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."
At their wedding night, Kayla caught her brand-new husband cheating. Reeling and half-drunk, she staggered into the wrong suite and collapsed into a stranger's arms. Sunrise brought a pounding head-and the discovery she was pregnant. The father? A supremely powerful tycoon who happened to be her husband's ruthless uncle. Panicked, she tried to run, but he barred the door with a faint, dangerous smile. When the cheating ex begged, Kayla lifted her chin and declared, "Want a second chance at us? Ask your uncle." The tycoon pulled her close. "She's my wife now." The ex gasped, "What!?"
"My sister threatens to take my mate. And I let her keep him." Born without a wolf, Seraphina is the disgrace of her pack-until a drunken night leaves her pregnant and married to Kieran, the ruthless Alpha who never wanted her. But their decade-long marriage was no fairytale. For ten years, she endured the humiliation: No Luna title. No mating mark. Just cold sheets and colder stares. When her perfect sister returned, Kieran filed for divorce the same night. And her family was happy to see her marriage broken. Seraphina didn't fight but left silently. However, when danger struck, shocking truths emerged: ☽ That night wasn't an accident ☽ Her "defect" is actually a rare gift ☽ And now every Alpha-including her ex-husband-will fight to claim her Too bad she's done being owned. *** Kieran's growl vibrated through my bones as he pinned me against the wall. The heat of him seared through layers of fabric. "You think leaving is that easy, Seraphina?" His teeth grazed the unmarked skin of my throat. "You. Are. Mine." A hot palm slid up my thigh. "No one else will ever touch you." "You had ten years to claim me, Alpha." I bared my teeth in a smile. "Funny how you only remember I'm yours... when I'm walking away."
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