Bøger af Margaret Penrose

The Motor Girls on the Coast; or, The Waif From the Sea, is a classical and a rare book, that has been considered important throughout the human history, and so that this work is never forgotten we at Alpha Editions have made efforts in its preservation by republishing this book in a modern format for present and future generations. This whole book has been reformatted, retyped and redesigned. These books are not made of scanned copies of their original work, and hence their text is clear and readable. This remarkable book falls within the genres of Language and Literatures, Juvenile belles lettres

The Motor Girls at Camp Surprise; Or, The Cave in the Mountains, is a classical and a rare book, that has been considered important throughout the human history, and so that this work is never forgotten we at Alpha Editions have made efforts in its preservation by republishing this book in a modern format for present and future generations. This whole book has been reformatted, retyped and redesigned. These books are not made of scanned copies of their original work, and hence their text is clear and readable. This remarkable book falls within the genres of Language and Literatures, Juvenile belles lettres

The Motor Girls in the Mountains; or, The Gypsy Girl's Secret, is a classical and a rare book, that has been considered important throughout the human history, and so that this work is never forgotten we at Alpha Editions have made efforts in its preservation by republishing this book in a modern format for present and future generations. This whole book has been reformatted, retyped and redesigned. These books are not made of scanned copies of their original work, and hence their text is clear and readable. This remarkable book falls within the genres of Language and Literatures, Juvenile belles lettres

The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach; Or, In Quest of the Runaways, is a classical and a rare book, that has been considered important throughout the human history, and so that this work is never forgotten we at Alpha Editions have made efforts in its preservation by republishing this book in a modern format for present and future generations. This whole book has been reformatted, retyped and redesigned. These books are not made of scanned copies of their original work, and hence their text is clear and readable. This remarkable book falls within the genres of Language and Literatures, Juvenile belles lettres

The Motor Girls are back in this thrilling adventure, as they embark on a cross-country tour to promote their new automobile. Along the way, they encounter danger, romance, and unexpected surprises. Margaret Penrose's exciting novel is a must-read for fans of the motor romance genre.This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.This work is in the "public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

The day of days had come at last: Dorothy would be the Daughter of the Regiment. "Lucky you don't have to curl your hair, Doro, for the fog is like rain, and that's the worst kind for made curls," said Tavia. "Oh, I do hope it is not going to rain!" "No, it surely won't. But come, don't let's be late." "There's heaps of time, Tavia. Oh, just see Briggs' new flag! Isn't it glorious?" cried Dorothy Dale.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book. ++++ The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to ensure edition identification: ++++ The Motor Girls At Lookout Beach, Or, In Quest Of The Runaways Margaret Penrose Goldsmith Pub. Co., 1911

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

"Look where you are steering, Cora Kimball! You nearly ran over a chicken that time." "Yes, and avoiding the chicken on that side, you nearly hit a child on this side. Such a dear little boy-or was it a girl? I never can tell when they're so young." "Two misses are as good as two miles," misquoted the bronzed girl at the wheel of the automobile, as she straightened the car on the long, shaded road, where the trees met in a green archway overhead, and where the golden shadows flitted in the dust like so many little chickens running to cover, away from the fat-tired wheels. "Why are you in such a hurry, Cora?" asked Bess Robinson, as she tucked back a straying lock of brown hair. "It's too perfect a day to do anything in a hurry-even run a car."

THE SHADOW "Look, girls! There's a man!" "Where?" "Just creeping under the dining-room window!" "What can he want-looks suspicious!" "Oh, I'm afraid to go in!" "Hush! We won't go in just now!" "If only the boys were here!" "Well, don't cry-they will be here soon." "See! He's getting under the fence! There he goes!" "Did you get a look at him?" "Yes, a good look. I'll know him next time." Bess, Belle and Cora were holding this whispered conversation. It was Belle, the timid, who wanted to cry, and it was Cora who had really seen the man-got the good look. Bess did say she wished the boys were around, but Bess had great confidence in those boys, and this remark, when a man was actually sneaking around Clover Cottage, was perfectly pardonable. The motor girls had just returned from a delightful afternoon ride along the shore road at Lookout Beach. Bess and Belle Robinson, otherwise Elizabeth and Isabel, the twins, were in their little car-the Flyaway-and Cora Kimball was driving her fine, four-cylinder touring affair, both machines having just pulled up in front of Clover Cottage, the summer home of the Robinsons. "Did the boys say they would come directly from the post-office?" asked Belle, as she eyed the back fence suspiciously.

With a crunching of the small stones in the gravel drive, the big car swung around to the side entrance of the house, and came to a stop, with a whining, screeching and, generally protesting sound of the brake-bands. A girl, bronzed by the summer sun, let her gloved hands fall from the steering wheel, for she had driven fast, and was tired. The motor ceased its humming, and, with a click, the girl locked the ignition switch as she descended. "Oh, what a run! What a glorious run, and on a most glorious day!" she breathed in a half whisper, as she paused for a moment on the bottom step, and gazed back over the valley, which the high-setting house commanded, in a magnificent view. The leaves of the forest trees had been touched, gently as yet, by the withering fingers of coming winter, and the browns, reds, golden ambers, purples and flame colors ran riot under the hazy light of an October sun, slowly sinking to rest. "It was a shame to go alone, on this simply perfect day," murmured the autoist, as she drew off one glove to tuck back under her motoring cap a rebellious lock of hair. "But I couldn't get a single one of the girls on the wire," she continued. "Oh, I just hate to go in, while there's a moment of daylight left!" She stood on the porch, against a background of white pillars, facing the golden west, that every moment, under the now rapidly appearing tints of the sunset, seemed like some magically growing painting.

Bess Robinson was so filled with enthusiasm that her sister Belle declared there was serious danger of "blowing-up," unless there was some repression. Belle herself might be equally enthusiastic, but she had a way of restraining herself, while Bess just delighted in the "utmost" of everything. The two sisters were talking on the side porch of their handsome home in Chelton, a New England town, located on the Chelton river. It was a beautiful day, late in spring. "Well, have you sufficiently quieted down, Bess?" asked Belle, after a pause, which succeeded the more quiet girl's attempt to curb her sister's enthusiasm-a pause that was filled with just the hint of pique. "Quieted down? I should think any one would quiet down after such a call-down as you gave me, if you will allow the use of such slang in your presence, Miss Prim," retorted Bess, with a little tilt to her stubby nose. "Oh, come now, Bess--"

"Oh, Cora! Isn't this perfectly splendid!" exclaimed Bess Robinson. "Delightful!" chimed in her twin sister, Belle. "I'm glad you like it," said Cora Kimball, the camp hostess. "I felt that you would, but one can never be sure-especially of Belle. Jack said she would fall a prey to that clump of white birches over there, and would want to paint pictures on the bark. But I fancied she would take more surely to the pines; they are so strong-and, like the big boys-always to be depended on. But not a word about camp now. Something more important is on. My new motor boat has just arrived!"

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

The big maroon car glided along in such perfect rhythm that Cora Kimball, the fair driver of the Whirlwind, heard scarcely a sound of its mechanical workings. To her the car went noiselessly-the perfection of its motion was akin to the very music of silence. Hazel Hastings was simply sumptuous in the tonneau-she had spread every available frill and flounce, but there was still plenty of unoccupied space on the luxuriously cushioned "throne." It seemed a pity to passers-by that two girls should ride alone on that splendid morning in the handsome machine-so many of those afoot would have been glad of a chance to occupy the empty seats. Directly following the Whirlwind came another car-the little silver Flyaway. In this also were two girls, the Robinson twins, Elizabeth and Isabel, otherwise Belle and Bess. Chelton folks were becoming accustomed to the sight of these girls in their cars, and a run of the motor girls was now looked upon as a daily occurrence. Bess Robinson guided her car with unmistakable skill-Cora Kimball was considered an expert driver.

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

Four girls sat on four chairs, in four different corners of the room. They sat on the chairs because they were really too tired to stand longer, and the reason for the occupancy of the corners of the apartment was self-evident. There was no other available space. For the center of the chamber was littered to overflowing with trunks, suitcases and valises, in various stages of being packed, and from them overflowed a variety of garments and other accessories of a journey. "Oh, dear!" sighed Cora Kimball, as she gazed helplessly about, "will we ever be finished, Bess?" "I don't know," was the equally discouraging reply. "It doesn't seem so; does it?" "I'm sure I can't get another thing in my suitcase," spoke the smallest girl of all, who seemed to shrink back rather timidly into her corner, as 2 though she feared she might be put into a trunk by mistake. "Oh, Marita! You simply must get more in your suitcase!" exclaimed Cora, starting up. "Why, your trunk won't begin to hold all the rest of your things unless you crowd more into the case." "The only trouble, Cora," sighed Marita, "is that the sides and top aren't made of rubber." "There's an idea!" cried a plump girl, in the corner nearest the piano. "A rubber suitcase! What a boon it would be for week-ends, when one starts off with a Spartan resolution to take only one extra gown, and ends up with slipping two party dresses and the 'fixings' into one's trunk. Oh, for a rubber suitcase!" "What's the sense in sighing after the impossible?" asked the girl opposite the plump one. "Why don't you finish packing, Bess?" "Why don't you?" and the plump one rather glared at her more frail questioner.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. "He, he, he!" giggled Tavia. "What is the matter now, child?" demanded Dorothy Dale, haughtily. "There are no 'hes' in this lane. The road is empty before us--" "And the world would be, too, if it wasn't for the possible 'hes' that are to come into our lives," quoth Tavia, with shocking frankness. "You talk like a cave girl," declared her chum. "Is there nothing on your mind but boys?" "Yes'm! More boys!" chuckled Tavia. "It is June. The bridal-wreath is in bloom. If 'In spring the young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, ' can't our girls' fancies turn in June to thoughts of white lace veils, shoes that pinch your feet horribly-and can't we dream of hobbling up to the altar to the sound of Mendelssohn's march?" "Hobble to the haltar, you mean," sniffed Dorothy, with her best suffragette air.

This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. 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 for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.

"Now, sisters!" cautioned Cora, as she gazed at the Robinson twins, "don't get on one another's nerves. Let's have another try at it. I'm sure if we go at it with some sort of system we'll be able to get all the things in. And really we must hurry!" she exclaimed, looking at the clock on the mantel, which pointed to the hour of four. "I promised to have all the baggage ready for the man at five. That only gives us an hour--" "Cora Kimball!" "Only an hour!" "Why didn't you tell us?" Thus the three girls exclaimed in startled tones as they fairly leaped from their chairs in their respective corners, and caught up various garments. Then, as the apparent hopelessness of the situation overcame them again, they looked at one another, at the trunks and suitcases that already held their fair share of articles, at the accumulation on the floor, and then they sighed in concert. "It's no use," spoke Bess Robinson. "I'm not going at all-at least not now.

The Motor Girls Through New England: Or Held By The Gypsies is a book written by Margaret Penrose. It follows the adventures of a group of young women who embark on a road trip through New England in their motor car. Along the way, they encounter a group of gypsies who hold them captive, leading to a thrilling and suspenseful plot. The book is set in the early 20th century and provides a glimpse into the social norms and customs of that time period. It is a classic piece of literature that will appeal to readers of all ages who enjoy adventure, mystery, and historical fiction.This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the old original and may contain some imperfections such as library marks and notations. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions, that are true to their original work.

Neither books, papers nor pencils were to be seen in the confused mass of articles, piled high, if not dry, in the rooms of the pupils of Glenwood Hall, who were now packing up to leave the boarding school for the Christmas holidays. "Going home is so very different from leaving home," remarked Dorothy Dale, as she plunged a knot of unfolded ribbons into the tray of her trunk. "I'm always ashamed to face my things when I unpack." "Don't," advised Tavia. "I never look at mine until they have been scattered on the floor for a few days. Then they all look like a fire sale," and she wound her tennis shoes inside a perfectly helpless lingerie waist. "I don't see why we bring parasols in September to take them back in Christmas snows," went on Dorothy. "I have a mind to give this to Betty," and she raised the flowery canopy over her head. "Oh, don't!" begged Tavia. "Listen! That's bad luck!" "Which?" asked Dorothy, "the parasol or Betty?" "Neither," replied Tavia. "But the fact that I hear Ned's voice. Also the clatter of Cologne's heavy feet. That means the plunge-our very last racket." "I hope you take the racket out of this room," said Dorothy, "for I have some Christmas cards to get off." "Let us in!" called a voice on the outer side of the door. "We've got good news." "Only news?" asked Tavia. "We have lots of that ourselves. Make it something more substantial." "Hurry!" begged the voice of Edna Black, otherwise known as Ned Ebony. "We'll be caught!" Tavia brought herself to her feet from the Turkish mat as if she were on springs. Then she opened the door cautiously. "What is it?" she demanded. "Is it alive?" "It was once," replied Edna, "but it isn't now." The giggling at the door was punctuated with a struggle.

"There is one thing perfectly delightful about boarding schools," declared Tavia, "when the term closes we can go away, and leave it in another world. Now, at Dalton, we would have to see the old schoolhouse every time we went to Daly's for a pound of butter, a loaf of bread-and oh, yes! I almost forgot! Mom said we could get some bologna. Whew! Don't your mouth water, Dorothy? We always did get good bologna at Daly's!"

"And you are quite sure, daddy, I am not dreaming? That I am sitting right here with my arms around your neck, and you have just told me it is all perfectly true?" And, to make still more certain that the whole matter was one of unquestionable reality, the girl gave her parent such a flesh and blood hug that a physical answer came to her question in the shape of a protest from the very wideawake man. "Now, see here, Little Captain," he remarked, "it is all very well to make sure we are not dreaming, and that all the good news is real, but please remember I have put on a clean collar and-your tactics are quite military. You are acquiring muscle." Major Dale kissed his daughter fondly as she relinquished her hold on him, and smoothed back a stray lock of his silvery hair. "I'm so glad for you, daddy," she went on. "You do so need a real rest, and now we will not have to plan every day what we may spend to-morrow. I fancy I will still keep the note-book going with pounds and prices of things, and an occasional orange, and even some foreign fruit now and then. Dear me! I feel the good of that money already.

"She very probably will miss her train, we will miss her at the station, she will take a ride up with old Bill Mason, stay talking to him until dinner is too cold to wait any longer; then-then-well, she may steal in through a window and give you a midnight scare, just for a joke. That's my recollection of Miss Tavia." "Nat, you're too mean-Tavia is not always late, and she doesn't purposely upset plans. Some things can't be prevented." "Right, little coz, they can't. That's right. Tavia is one of the things that can't be prevented from--" "Quit! quit there! Easy with young ladies' names! You don't have to-to put her up for the registry," and the last speaker swung around in mock challenge, with his fist very close to his brother's aristocratic nose. The three were Dorothy, Ned and Nat. Dorothy Dale was the "coz," a very pretty and attractive young girl, while her two good-looking cousins, Ned the elder and Nat the jollier, were sons of Mrs. Winthrop White, of North Birchland. Dorothy, with her father, Major Dale, and her two brothers, Joe and Roger, the latter about two years younger than his brother, who was not yet in his 'teens, made her home with Major Dale's sister, Mrs. White, where they had lived for the past few years. It was now holiday time, and Dorothy was awaiting the arrival of her chum, Tavia Travers, of Dalton, the former home of the Dales. We may say Dorothy was waiting, but the boys were-well, they may have had to wait until Miss Tavia got there, but one of them, Nat, evidently did not find "waiting" very pleasant employment. The fact was, Tavia was a very good friend of Nat, and because of this his brother enjoyed teasing Dorothy about her chum's shortcomings, especially when Nat was within hearing. "She said the 4:10, didn't she?" asked Nat for the fourth time in as many minutes.

Thank you for checking out this book by Theophania Publishing. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you soon. We have thousands of titles available, and we invite you to search for us by name, contact us via our website, or download our most recent catalogues. The train started a second after the two almost breathless girls entered the half-empty chair car. They came in with a rush, and barely found their seats and got settled in them before the easily rolling train had pulled clear of the station and the yards. "Back to dear old Glenwood School, Doro!" cried Tavia Travers, fairly hugging her more sober companion. "How do you feel about it?" "De-lighted, Miss," laughed Dorothy Dale. "After our trying experiences in New York--Well! a country life is strenuous enough for me, I guess." "But we did have some fun, Doro. And how we got the best of that hateful Akerson man! I just hate that fellow. I could beat him!" "Your feeling is not scriptural," groaned Dorothy, though her eyes twinkled. "Don't you know, if you are struck on one cheek you should turn the other also?" "But suppose you're hit on the nose?" demanded Tavia. "One hasn't two noses!"