Genre Fiction. Page - 190

"The Indian Drum" by William MacHarg is a classic mystery novel that follows detective Creighton, a seasoned investigator who is tasked with solving a murder in a wealthy New York family. The novel is set against the backdrop of the early 1900s, and MacHarg uses vivid descriptions and well-crafted characters to bring the era to life. The plot is complex and engaging, with plenty of twists and turns to keep readers guessing until the very end. MacHarg's writing style is both elegant

Sir Alexander's record, you know--he made it from here in six days!""I don't remember that book very well," said Jesse; "I'll read it again some time." "We'll all read it each day as we go on, and in that way understand it better when we get through," ventured John. "But listen; I thought I heard them in the bush." It was as he had said. The swish of bushes parting and the occasional sound of a stumbling footfall on the trail now became plainer. They

rents, her mother within a few months. Mrs. Meldrum had known them, disapproved of them, considerably avoided them: she had watched the girl, off and on, from her early childhood. Flora, just twenty, was extraordinarily alone in the world--so alone that she had no natural chaperon, no one to stay with but a mercenary stranger, Mrs. Hammond Synge, the sister-in-law of one of the young men I had just seen. She had lots of friends, but none of them nice: she kept picking up impossible people. The

rade winds by the oppositeside of the court. But Susy did not seem inclined to linger therelong that morning, in spite of Mrs. Peyton's evident desire for amaternal tete-a-tete. The nervous preoccupation and capriciousennui of an indulged child showed in her pretty but discontentedface, and knit her curved eyebrows, and Peyton saw a look of painpass over his wife's face as the young girl suddenly and half-laughingly broke away and fluttered off towards the old garden.Mrs. Peyton looked up and

r, or folded in a blue handkerchief, and laid them, with fingers more or less worn and stubby from hard service, before the consul for his signature. Once, in the case of a very young Madchen, that signature was blotted by the sweep of a flaxen braid upon it as the child turned to go; but generally there was a grave, serious business instinct and sense of responsibility in these girls of ordinary peasant origin which, equally with their sisters of France, were unknown to the English or American

try, and one of them had somehow come into the possession of John Thacher's grandfather when grafted fruit was a thing to be treasured and jealously guarded. It had been told that when the elder Thacher had given away cuttings he had always stolen to the orchards in the night afterward and ruined them. However, when the family had grown more generous in later years it had seemed to be without avail, for, on their neighbors' trees or their own, the English apples had proved worthless. Whether it

perityand safety of the inhabitants, at once by the profuseness ofembellishment in those newly erected, and by the neglect of thejealous precautions required in former days of confusion andmisrule. Thus it was with the village of Lynwood, where, amongthe cottages and farm-houses occupying a fertile valley inSomersetshire, arose the ancient Keep, built of gray stone,and strongly fortified; but the defences were kept up ratheras appendages of the owner's rank, than as requisite for hisprotection;

f High Mass had just been sung there, and--"He cut me short, and there was a certain grave solemnity in his manner that struck me almost with awe. "I know you are a railer," he said, and the phrase coming from this mild old gentleman astonished, me unutterably. "You are a railer and a bitter railer; I have read articles that you have written, and I know your contempt and your hatred for those you call Protestants in your derision; though your grandfather, the vicar of

" said Uncle Dick, after a time. "I doubt if we could do it all the way by boat by September. But I'll see your teacher, here in St. Louis, where we're all going to winter this year, and arrange with him to let you study outside for the first few weeks of the fall term in case we don't get back. You'll have to work while you travel, understand that."The boys all agreed to this and gave their promise to do their best, if only they could be allowed to make this wonderful trip over

Griselda wondered, if this were so, how it was that Miss Grizzel took such liberties with them herself, but she said nothing. "Here is my last summer's pot-pourri," continued Miss Grizzel, touching a great china jar on a little stand, close beside the cabinet. "You may smell it, my dear." Nothing loth, Griselda buried her round little nose in the fragrant leaves. "It's lovely," she said. "May I smell it whenever I like, Aunt Grizzel?" "We shall