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Updated: June 28, 2025
Miss Ainslee's back was toward the door and she kept on with the reading, not having heard the intruder who presently made a step forward and gave a roguish glance in Molly's direction, to that young person's confusion, for the color mounted to her cheeks. What was he going to do she wondered.
"Joshua Churchill's dying in California and Nanny Ainslee's leaving to-night for Japan! And there's been a wreck between here and Spring Road!" Fanny fairly gasped out the astounding news. Then she sank down into Grandma Wentworth's comfortable kitchen rocker and went into details. "The two telegrams just came through. Uncle Tony's gone down to the wreck.
Like the painted billows of music that the old Italian masters loved to do, there wound and wreathed about her clouds of song. But I've a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear. From Ainslee's Magazine
Ainslee's Magazine, 79 Seventh Avenue, New York City. American Boy, 142 Lafayette Boulevard, Detroit, Michigan. American Magazine, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City. Argosy All-Story Weekly, 280 Broadway, New York City. Asia, 627 Lexington Avenue, New York City. Atlantic Monthly, 8 Arlington Street, Boston, Mass. Black Cat, 229 West 28th Street, New York City.
William Marion Reedy wrote: "I read and printed one very good story called 'Baby Fever. I think it is one of the best stories of the year." Mrs. W. Adolphe Roberts submitted a number of stories from Ainslee's: "Young Love," by Nancy Boyd; "The Token from the Arena," by June Willard; "The Light," by Katherine Wilson.
Wodehouse had tried his wings here only a few months when magazine editors were bidding for his manuscripts. His short stories have appeared generally in the magazines, and while one often finds the delightful touch of pathos, there is always an abundance of laughter. In Cosmopolitan, Collier's Weekly, Ainslee's, and many other publications these stories appear as often as Mr.
When I go back now I'll just send Barney along with it, and then I'll go see Doc Mitchell and let him kill me with that there machine of his." That's how it happened that a little thin hand caught Nanny Ainslee's just as she was entering the church door and Barney of the spindle legs begged frenziedly for assistance. "Aw, Nan look at this!" and he held out the gold piece.
Dick's smile grew wistful as he said: "It was pretty hot coming over here, but I don't suppose you could ask me to have some of the cream with you; I'm not a little girl, you know, and I perceive you don't take boys." A tremulous little smile danced about the corners of Miss Ainslee's mouth as she moved toward the cupboard. "I could help to dish it out at least," Dick added hastily.
All he knew was that summer was dead and that he had no one in all the world he could call his very own. He did not know that lying there he was really waiting for a step and a voice, a step that would stir the leaves with a joyous rustling, a voice that even on a gray day sounded gay and sunshiny. He had always liked Nan Ainslee's voice.
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