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Jane Allen: Center by Edith Bancroft

[Illustration: "Teekawata, come!" called the Indian.]


By Edith Bancroft

Author of Jane Allen of the Sub-Team, Jane Allen: Right Guard, etc.


Akron, Ohio--New York

Copyright MCMXX


Jane Allen, Center

Made in the United States of America

CONTENTS I--The Silver Lining II--Telltale Tidings III--Over the Hills and Far Away IV--Woo Nah and the Fortunes V--On Their Way VI--Journey De Luxe VII--Lost--a Girl VIII--New York at Last IX--Girls' Life a La Mode X--Fears and Fancies XI--A Strange Predicament XII--Wellington En Masse XIII--Stirring the Depths XIV--Baffling Strategy XV--Election Night XVI--Politics Et Al XVII--Potential Enemies XVIII--The Woes of "Alias Helen" XIX--Teams and Teamsters XX--Stemming the Tide XXI--The Two Jays XXII--Jane Allen: Center XXIII--The Barn Swifts--a Tragedy XXIV--A Clue to the Mystery XXV--To the Victors XXVI--Angels Unawares XXVII--What the "Bugle" Blew XXVIII--Madam Nalasky XXIX--The Boy Stanislaus XXX--The Acorn and the Oak


Jolly round fleecy clouds tumbled over their playmates in the great, broad playfield of endless blue; baby cloudlets climbed to tops, only to slide down the other side, while haughty, majestic, dignified leaders paraded straight to the prairie line, taking on tones more sombre with each lap of earth left below. A shower should be marshalled, it had been promised the wheat fields, but those young sky rowdies never wanted to work, always romping and skylarking, allowing the silliest little breezes to blow them off their course.

The girl on the grass gazed up; in her gray eyes the steely glints quivered into sharp, silver blade-like flashes, reflected from the arrow of some little god just peeking from behind the cloud mountain. He warned her of the shower, he knew the parade would soon be formed into battle line, yet the girl saw only the sunshine still braving the cloud's attack.

"Just like one's fortune," she mused, "clouds and sunshine, pleasant here and a storm somewhere else. I wonder why we take things so seriously? I believe the greatest philosophy of life is moderation: and I am going to be very moderate with my little worries. The sunshine is only behind the cloud, and the reaction is always crowding the perplexities. I am not going to worry about going away this year."

The girl was retrospective. Vacation was almost over, and Jane Allen would soon leave the hills of El Capitan, her ranch home, to take up her Junior year at Wellington college. Fortified with the resolution against loneliness Jane would try to cover the thought of leaving her dear dad, and her Aunt Mary, with the anticipation of so much joy at the homecoming when the school term would end. A drop of rain fell into her eye with the precision of an eye dropper. She blinked, then jumped to her feet.

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