The Greatest Adventure Books for Children. Люси Мод Монтгомери

man, “I’m all gone!”

      And so he was—and that is the end of the story.

      John Dough and the Cherub

      (L. Frank Baum)

       Table of Contents

       The Great Elixir

       The Two Flasks

       The Gingerbread Man

       John Dough Begins his Adventures

       Chick, the Cherub

       The Freaks of Phreex

       The Lady Executioner

       The Palace of Romance

       The Silver Pig

       Pittypat and the Mifkets

       The Island Princess

       Para Bruin, the Rubber Bear

       Black Ooboo

       Under Land and Water

       The Fairy Beavers

       The Flight of the Flamingoes

       Sport of Pirate Island

       Hiland and Loland

       King Dough and his Court

      BOY OR GIRL?

      The Great Elixir

       Table of Contents

      Over the door appeared a weather-worn sign that read: "JULES GROGRANDE, BAKER." In one of the windows, painted upon a sheet of cardboard, was another sign: "Home-made Bread by the Best Modern Machinery." There was a third sign in the window beyond the doorway, and this was marked upon a bit of wrapping-paper, and said: "Fresh Gingerbread Every Day."

      When you opened the door, the top of it struck a brass bell suspended from the ceiling and made it tinkle merrily. Hearing the sound, Madame Leontine Grogrande would come from her little room back of the shop and stand behind the counter and ask you what you would like to purchase.

      Madame Leontine—or Madame Tina, as the children called her—was quite short and quite fat; and she had a round, pleasant face that was good to look upon. She moved somewhat slowly, for the rheumatism troubled her more or less; but no one minded if Madame was a bit slow in tying up her parcels. For surely no cakes or buns in all the town were so delicious or fresh as those she sold, and she had a way of giving the biggest cakes to the smallest girls and boys who came into her shop, that proved she was fond of children and had a generous heart.

      People loved to come to the Grogrande Bakery. When one opened the door an exquisite fragrance of newly baked bread and cakes greeted the nostrils; and, if you were not hungry when you entered, you were sure to become so when you examined and smelled the delicious pies and doughnuts and gingerbread and buns with which the shelves and show-cases were stocked. There were trays of French candies, too; and because all the goods were fresh and wholesome the bakery was well patronized and did a thriving business.

      The reason no one saw Monsieur Jules in the shop was because his time was always occupied in the bakery in the rear—a long, low room filled with ovens and tables covered with pots and pans and dishes (which the skillful baker used for mixing and stirring) and long shelves bearing sugars and spices and baking-powders and sweet-smelling extracts that made his wares taste so sweet and agreeable.

      AN ARAB DASHED INTO THE ROOM.

      The bake-room was three times as big as the shop; but Monsieur Jules needed all the space in the preparation of the great variety of goods required by his patrons, and he prided himself on the fact that his edibles were fresh-made each day. In order to have the bread and rolls ready at breakfast time he was obliged to get up at three o'clock every morning, and so he went to bed about sundown.

      On a certain forenoon the door of the shop opened so abruptly that the little brass bell made a furious jingling.

      An Arab dashed into the room, stopped short, looked around with a bewildered air, and then rushed away again and banged the door after him.

      Madame looked surprised, but said nothing. She recognized the Arab to be a certain Ali Dubh, living in the neighborhood, who was accustomed to purchase a loaf from her every morning. Perhaps he had forgotten his money, Madame thought.

      When the afternoon was half over he entered again, running as if fiends were at his heels. In the center of the room he paused, slapped his forehead despairingly with both palms, and said in a wailing voice:

      "They're after me!"

      Next moment he dashed away at full speed, even forgetting to close the door; so Madame came from behind the counter and did it herself. She delayed a moment to gaze at the figure of Ali Dubh racing up the street. Then he turned the corner of an alley and disappeared from view.

      Things did