Mother Angelique’s anxious call rang out over the water, once, twice, many times.

“It’s a queer kind of a name, though it suits you,” observed the Gray Gentleman, thoughtfully...

Three people were together in a very pleasant little parlor, in a land where the sun shines nearly all the time.

Old Sutro and young Steenie were where they might have been found on almost every day at the same hour,—down on the beach, where the great cañon cut through the mesa to the sea.

The stentorian shout of the colored steward, so close to Dorothy’s ear, made her jump aside with a little scream.