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Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High School / Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities
Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High School / Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities by Josephine Chase
Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High School / Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities by Josephine Chase
"Next to home, there is really nothing quite so satisfying as our dear old High School!" exclaimed Grace Harlowe, as she entered the locker-room and beamed on her three friends who stood near by.
"It does seem good to be back, even though we have had such a perfectly glorious summer," said Jessica Bright. "We are a notch higher, too. We're actually juniors. This locker-room is now our property, although I don't like it as well as the one we had last year."
"We'll get accustomed to it, and it will seem like home inside of two weeks," said Anne Pierson philosophically. "Everything is bound to change in this world, you know. 'We must put ourselves in harmony with the things among which our lot is cast.'"
"Well, Marcus Aurelius, we'll try to accept your teaching," laughed Grace, who immediately recognized the quotation as coming from a tiny "Marcus Aurelius Year Book" that Anne kept in her desk and frequently perused.
"I wonder what school will bring us this year?" mused Nora O'Malley, as she retied her bow for the fifth time before the mirror and critically surveyed the final effect. "We had a stormy enough time last year, goodness knows. Really, girls, it is hard to believe that Miriam Nesbit and Julia Crosby were at one time the banes of our existence. They come next to you three girls with me, now."
"I think that we all feel the same about them," replied Grace. "Miriam is a perfect dear now, and is just as enthusiastic over class matters as we are."
"It looks as though everything were going to be plain sailing this year," said Jessica. "There isn't a disturbing element in the class that I know of. Still, one can never tell."
"Oh, here come Eva Allen and Marian Barber," called Grace delightedly, and rushed over to the newcomers with outstretched hands.
By this time girls began to arrive rapidly, and soon the locker-room hummed with the sound of fresh, young voices. Coats of tan were compared and newly acquired freckles deplored, as the girls stood about in groups, talking of the delights of the summer vacation just ended.
To the readers of "Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School," and "Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School," the girl chums have become familiar figures. It will be remembered how Grace Harlowe and her friends, Nora O'Malley and Jessica Bright, during their freshman year, became the firm friends of Anne Pierson, the brilliant young girl who won the freshman prize offered each year to the freshmen by Mrs. Gray. The reader will recall the repeated efforts of Miriam Nesbit, aided by Miss Leece, the algebra teacher, to disgrace Anne in the eyes of the faculty, and the way each attempt was frustrated by Grace Harlowe and her friends. Mrs. Gray's house party, the winter picnic in Upton Wood, and Anne Pierson's struggles to escape her unworthy father all contributed toward making the story stand out in the reader's mind.
In "Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year," the girl chums were found leading their class in athletics. Here, Miriam Nesbit, still unsubdued, endeavored once more to humiliate Anne Pierson, and to oust Grace from her position as captain of the basketball team, being aided in her plan by Julia Crosby, captain of the junior team, against whom the sophomores had engaged to play a series of three games. Grace's brave rescue of Julia Crosby during a skating party and the latter's subsequent repentance restored good feeling between the two classes, and the book ended with the final conversion of Miriam after her long and stubbornly nursed enmity.
David Nesbit's trial flight in his a?roplane, Grace's encounter with the escaped lunatic, who imagined himself to be Napoleon Bonaparte, were among the features which made the book absorbing from start to finish.
The clang of the first bell broke in upon the chattering groups, and obedient to its summons, the girls moved slowly out of the locker-room and down the corridor, talking in subdued tones as they strolled toward the study hall.
Miss Thompson stood at her desk, serene and smiling, as the girls filed in.
"How well Miss Thompson looks," whispered Grace to Anne as they neared their seats. "Let's go up and see her when this session is over. It's sure to be short this morning."
It was customary on the opening of school for the members of the various classes to take their seats of the previous year. Then the sections were rearranged, the seniors taking the seats left by the graduates, and the other classes moving up accordingly. The first day of school amounted to really nothing further than being assigned to one's seat and getting used to the idea of school again. Miss Thompson usually addressed the girls on the duty of High School students, and the girls went forth full of new resolutions that last for at least a week.
Grace looked curiously about her. She wondered if there were to be many new girls that year. The present freshmen, direct from the Grammar Schools, sat on the front seats looking a trifle awed at the idea of being academic pupils, and feeling very strange and uncomfortable under the scrutiny of so many pairs of eyes.
Her glance wandered toward the new sophomore class, as though in search of some one, her eyes brightening as she caught sight of the brown-eyed girl who had won the freshman prize the previous June. The latter looked as helpless and friendless as when Grace first saw her step up on the platform to receive her money. "I shall certainly find out more about that child," she decided. "What is her name? I heard it at commencement, but I have forgotten it."
Taking a leaf from a little note-book that she always carried, Grace wrote: "Do you see the freshman-prize girl over among the sophomores? What is her name? I can't remember." Then, folding the paper, she tossed it to Anne, who nodded; then wrote, "Mabel Allison," and handed it to the girl sitting opposite her, who obligingly passed it over to Grace.
With a nod of thanks to Anne, Grace glanced at the paper and then at the owner of the name, who sat with her hands meekly folded on her desk, listening to Miss Thompson as though her life depended upon hearing every word that the principal uttered.
"I want all my girls to try particularly this year to reach a higher standard than ever before," Miss Thompson concluded, "not only in your studies, but in your attitude toward one another. Be straightforward and honorable in all your dealings, girls; so that when the day comes for you to receive your diplomas and bid Oakdale High School farewell, you can do so with the proud consciousness that you have been to your schoolmates just what you would have wished them to be to you. I know of no better preparation for a happy life than constant observation of the golden rule.
"And now I hope I shall have no occasion to deliver another lecture during the school year," said the principal, smiling. "There can be no formation of classes to-day, as the bulletins of the various subjects have just been posted, and will undoubtedly undergo some changes. It would be advisable, however, to arrange as speedily as possible about the subjects you intend to take, as we wish to begin recitations by Friday at the latest, and I dare say the changes made in the schedule will be slight."
Then the work of assigning each class to its particular section of the study hall began. The seniors moved with evident pride into the places reserved for the first class, while the freshmen looked visibly relieved at having any place at all to call their own. Immediately after this the classes were dismissed, and a general rush was made to the end of the great room, where the bulletins were posted.
Grace, Nora, Anne and Jessica wished to recite in the same classes as far as could be arranged, and a lively confab ensued as to what would be best to take. They all decided on solid geometry and English reading, as they could be together for these classes, but the rest was not so easy, for Nora, who loathed history, was obliged to take ancient history to complete her history group, the other girls having wisely completed theirs the previous year. Jessica wanted to take physical geography, Anne rhetoric, and Grace boldly announced a hankering for zo?logy.
"How horrible," shuddered Jessica. "How can you bear to think of cutting up live cats and dogs and angleworms and things."
"Oh, you silly," laughed Grace. "You're thinking of vivisection. I wouldn't cut up anything alive for all the world. The girls did dissect crabs and lobsters, and even rabbits, last year, but they were dead long before they ever reached the zo?logy class."
"Oh," said Jessica, somewhat reassured, "I'm glad to hear that, at any rate."
"That makes three subjects," said Nora. "Now we want one more. Are any of you going to be over ambitious and take five?"
"Not I," responded Grace and Jessica in chorus.
"I shall," said Anne quietly. "I'm going to learn just as much as I can while I have the chance."
"Well," said Jessica, "you're different. Five studies aren't any harder for you than four for us."
"Thank the lady prettily for her high opinion of your ability, Anne," said Grace, laughing. "She really seems to be sincere."
"She's too sincere for comfort," murmured Anne, who hated compliments.
"We haven't settled on that fourth subject yet," interposed Nora.
"Why don't you all take French, it is such a beautiful language," said a soft voice behind them. "I'm sure you'd like it."
The four girls turned simultaneously at the sound of the strange, soft voice, to face a girl whose beauty was almost startling. She was a trifle taller than Grace and beautifully straight and slender. Her hair was jet black and lay on her forehead in little silky rings, while she had the bluest eyes the girls had ever seen. Her features were small and regular, and her skin as creamy as the petal of a magnolia. She stood regarding the astonished girls with a fascinating little smile that was irresistible.
"Please excuse me for breaking in upon you, but I saw you from afar, and you looked awfully good to me." Her clear enunciation made the slang phrase sound like the purest English. "I have just been with your principal in her office. She told me to come here and look over the list of subjects. Do you think me unpardonably rude?" She looked appealingly at the four chums.
"Why, of course not," said Grace promptly, recovering in a measure from her first surprise. "I suppose you are going to enter our school, are you not? Let me introduce you to my friends." She named her three chums in turn, who bowed cordially to the attractive stranger.
"My name is Grace Harlowe. Will you tell me yours?"
"My name is Eleanor Savell," replied the new-comer, "and I have just come to Oakdale with my aunt. We have leased a quaint old house in the suburbs called 'Heartsease.' My aunt fell quite in love with it, so perhaps we shall stay awhile. We travel most of the time, and I get very tired of it," she concluded with a little pout.
"'Heartsease'?" cried the girls in chorus. "Do you live at 'Heartsease'?"
"Yes," said the stranger curiously. "Is there anything peculiar about it?"
"Oh, no," Grace hastened to reply. "The reason we are interested is because we know the owner of the property, Mrs. Gray, very well."
"Oh, do you know her?" replied Eleanor lightly. "Isn't she a dainty, little, old creature? She looks like a Dresden shepherdess grown old. For an elderly woman, she really is interesting."
"We call her our fairy godmother," said Anne, "and love her so dearly that we never think of her as being old." There had been something about the careless words that jarred upon Anne.
"Oh, I am sure she is all that is delightful," responded Miss Savell, quickly divining that Anne was not pleased at her remark. "I hope to know her better."
"You are lucky to get 'Heartsease,'" said Grace. "Mrs. Gray has refused over and over again to rent it. It belonged to her favorite brother, who willed it to her when he died. She has always kept it in repair. Even the furniture has not been changed. I have been there with her, and I love every bit of it. I am glad to know that it has a tenant at last."
"Mrs. Gray knew my aunt years ago. They have kept up a correspondence for ever so long. It was due to her that we came here," said Eleanor.
"Is your aunt Miss Margaret Nevin?" asked Anne quietly.
"Why, how did you know her name?" cried Eleanor, apparently mystified. "'This is getting curiouser and curiouser.'"
The four girls laughed merrily.
"Anne is Mrs. Gray's private secretary," explained Jessica. "She tends to all her correspondence. I suppose you have written more than one letter to Miss Savell's aunt, haven't you, Anne!"
"Yes, indeed," replied Anne. "Her name is very familiar to me."
"What class are you girls in?" said Eleanor, abruptly changing the subject. "Or aren't you all in the same class?"
"We are all juniors," laughed Nora, "and proud of it. Our green and callow days are over, and we have entered into the realm of the upper classes."
"Then I shall enter the junior class, too, for I choose to hob-nob with you girls. Don't say you don't want me, for I have made up my mind; and it is like the laws of the Medes and Persians, unchangeable."
"We shall be glad to welcome a new classmate, of course," responded Grace. "I hope you will soon be one of us. Did Miss Thompson say that you would have to take examinations?"
"She did, she did," answered Eleanor ruefully. "Still I'm not much afraid. I've studied with a tutor, so I'm pretty well up in mathematics and English. I can speak French, German, Italian and Spanish almost as well as English. You know I've lived most of my life abroad. I'll manage to pass somehow."
"I should think you would," exclaimed Anne admiringly. "I hope you pass, I'm sure. Perhaps you'll be too far advanced for our class."
"Never fear, my dear," said Eleanor. "My heart is with the juniors, and leave it to me not to land in any other class. But, really, I've bothered you long enough. I must go back to your principal and announce myself ready to meet my fate. I hope to know you better when examinations have ceased to be a burden and the weary are at rest. That is, if I survive."
With a gay little nod, and a dazzling smile that revealed almost perfect teeth, she walked quickly down the long room and out the door, leaving the girl chums staring after her.
"What an extraordinary girl!" said Jessica. "She acts as though she'd known us all her life, and we never set eyes on her until she marched in and calmly interrupted us ten minutes ago."
"It doesn't seem to make much difference whether or not we like her. She has decided she likes us, and that settles it," said Grace, smiling. "What do you think of her, Anne? You are a pretty good judge of character."
"I don't know yet," replied Anne slowly. "She seems charming. She must be awfully clever, too, to know so many languages, but--"
"But what?" queried Nora.
"Oh, I don't know just what I want to say, only let's proceed slowly with her, then we'll never have anything to regret."
"Come on, girls," said Jessica impatiently. "Let's hurry. You know we promised to meet the boys as soon as school was over."
The girl chums walked out of the study hall, each with her mind so full of the new girl, who had so suddenly appeared in their midst, that the proposed call upon Miss Thompson was entirely forgotten.
* * *
Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders on the Great American Desert by Josephine Chase
The red-haired girl stared fixedly out of the window. There was nothing to look at but black night, and the light from within turned the glass into a dusky mirror where her image was clearly reflected. But she stared at it unseeingly, busy with her thoughts. She was very early, but in fifteen minutes or so the Girl Scouts would commence to arrive. It was something of an ordeal to face the strangers and she had planned to be the first one in the room. She thought it a distinct advantage to meet them so rather than to enter the room feeling that the fifteen or twenty pairs of eyes were all noting her and the brains belonging to them were registering the usual formula, \"Goodness, what red hair!\" She never could see why people always spoke of her hair. Certainly there were redder heads, and her heavy, waving locks were always perfectly cared for, glossy and brushed with careful attention. She pulled the long braid over her shoulder and looked at it. The braid was thicker than her wrist, and when unbound it reached nearly to her knees. Almost petulantly she swung it behind her and turned her eyes toward the window again. They were queer eyes, a strange sea-green in color, and their black lashes and straight brows gave them a dark and brooding expression. She was pale, but it was not a wholesome pallor. She looked like a girl whose hours were not good, who sat up too late, and ate the wrong kinds of food. Her supple slender hands were bare except for a little finger ring of green jade set in silver. Her wrist-watch showed its tiny face from the center of a silver and jade bracelet. She wore the jewel pushed far up her sleeve.
Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College by Josephine Chase
Marjorie was a feast for beauty-loving eyes as she sat on the wide stone edge of the silver-spraying fountain with its musical murmur of water splashing into a white marble basin. The mannish cut of her gray knickered riding clothes merely made her look more than ever like a little girl. From under her little round gray hat with its bit of irridescent color her bright brown curls showed in a soft fluff. She sat smiling at Ronny, a sleeve of her riding coat pushed back from one rounded arm, one hand trailing idly in the clear water of the basin.
They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."
She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.
The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?
Rejected by her mate, who had been her long-time crush, Jasmine felt utterly humiliated. Seeking solace, she headed to a party to drown her sorrows. But things took a turn for the worse when her friends issued a cruel dare: kiss a stranger or beg her mate for forgiveness. With no other choice, Jasmine approached a stranger and kissed him, thinking that would be the end of it. However, the stranger unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "You're mine!" He growled, his words sending shivers down her spine. And then, he offered her a solution that would change everything...
I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.
After a passionate night, Verena left some money and wanted to leave, but was held by her companion. "Isn't it your turn to make me happy?" Verena, always disguising herself as ugly, slept with her fiance's uncle, Darren, in order to escape her engagement with her unfaithful fiance. Darren had respect and admiration. Word of his romantic escapades circulated, some saying they saw him kissing a lady against a wall and others calling it gossip. Who could ever tame Darren's heart? Then, shockingly, Darren was caught bending down to help Verena with her shoes, all to score a kiss from her!
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