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Diane of the Green Van by Leona Dalrymple




Illustrations by Reginald Birch

Chicago The Reilly & Britton Co. Third printing


"_In Arcadie, the Land of Hearte's Desire, Lette us linger whiles with Luveres fond; A sparklynge Comedie they playe--with Fire-- Unwyttynge Fate stands waytynge with hir Wande._"

Diane of the Green Van was awarded the $10,000.00 prize in a novel contest in which over five hundred manuscripts were submitted.

[Frontispiece: "Excellency, as a gentleman who is not a coward, it behooves you to explain!"]



I Of a Great White Bird Upon a Lake II An Indoor Tempest III A Whim IV The Voice of the Open Country V The Phantom that Rose from the Bottle VI Baron Tregar VII Themar VIII After Sunset IX In a Storm-Haunted Wood X On the Ridge Road XI In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady XII A Bullet in Arcadia XIII A Woodland Guest XIV By the Backwater Pool XV Jokai of Vienna XVI The Young Man of the Sea XVII In Which the Baron Pays XVIII Nomads XIX A Nomadic Minstrel XX The Romance of Minstrelsy XXI At the Gray of Dawn XXII Sylvan Suitors XXIII Letters XXIV The Lonely Camper XXV A December Snowstorm XXVI An Accounting XXVII The Song of the Pine-Wood Sparrow XXVIII The Nomad of the Fire-Wheel XXIX The Black Palmer XXX The Unmasking XXXI The Reckoning XXXII Forest Friends XXXIII By the Winding Creek XXXIV The Moon Above the Marsh XXXV The Wind of the Okeechobee XXXVI Under the Live Oaks XXXVII In the Glades XXXVIII In Philip's Wigwam XXXIX Under the Wild March Moon XL The Victory XLI In Mic-co's Lodge XLII The Rain Upon the Wigwam XLIII The Rival Campers XLIV The Tale of a Candlestick XLV The Gypsy Blood XLVI In the Forest XLVII "The Marshes of Glynn" XLVIII On the Lake Shore XLIX Mr. Dorrigan L The Other Candlestick LI In the Adirondacks LII Extracts from the Letters of Norman Westfall LIII By Mic-co's Pool LIV On the Westfall Lake


"Excellency, as a gentleman who is not a coward it behooves you to explain." . . . _Frontispiece_

Diane swung lightly up the forest path

White girl and Indian maid then clasped hands

"No, I may not take your hand."



Spring was stealing lightly over the Connecticut hills, a shy, tender thing of delicate green winging its way with witch-rod over the wooded ridges and the sylvan paths of Diane Westfall's farm. And with the spring had come a great hammering by the sheepfold and the stables where a smiling horde of metropolitan workmen, sheltered by night in the rambling old farmhouse, built an ingenious house upon wheels and flirted with the house-maids.

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