Pippin; A Wandering Flame. Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

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       Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

      Pippin; A Wandering Flame

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066157401

       PIPPIN

       PIPPIN

       CHAPTER I PIPPIN SAYS GOOD-BY

       CHAPTER II PIPPIN MAKES A FRIEND

       CHAPTER III PIPPIN FINDS A TRADE, "TEMP'RY"

       CHAPTER IV PIPPIN GOES TO CYRUS

       CHAPTER V CYRUS POOR FARM

       CHAPTER VI PIPPIN SINGS FOR HIS SUPPER

       CHAPTER VII FLORA MAY

       CHAPTER VIII PIPPIN SETS BREAD AND LAYS A PLAN

       CHAPTER IX PIPPIN ENCOUNTERS THE RED RUFFIAN

       CHAPTER X PIPPIN LOOKS FOR THE GRACE OF GOD

       CHAPTER XI THE CHAPLAIN READS HIS MAIL

       CHAPTER XII NIPPER

       CHAPTER XIII ENTER MARY-IN-THE-KITCHEN

       CHAPTER XIV PIPPIN LOOKS FOR OLD MAN BLOSSOM'S LITTLE GAL

       CHAPTER XV PIPPIN MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

       CHAPTER XVI PIPPIN ENCOUNTERS THE GIDEONS

       CHAPTER XVII THREE TETE-A-TETES

       CHAPTER XVIII PIPPIN KEEPS WATCH, WITH RESULTS

       CHAPTER XIX A KNOT IN THE THREAD

       CHAPTER XX THE PERPLEXITIES OF PIPPIN

       CHAPTER XXI MARY BLOSSOM

       CHAPTER XXII THE OLD MAN

       CHAPTER XXIII THE CHAPLAIN SPEAKS HIS MIND

       CHAPTER XXIV PRIMAL FORCES

       CHAPTER XXV PIPPIN OVERCOMES

       CHAPTER XXVI PIPPIN PRAISES THE LORD

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       PIPPIN SAYS GOOD-BY

       Table of Contents

      THE chaplain seemed to be waiting for some one. He was sitting in his office, as usual at this hour of the morning the little bare office in a corner of Shoreham State Prison, with its worn desk and stool, its chair facing the window (what tales that chair could tell, if it had power of speech!), its piles of reports and pamphlets, its bookshelf within arm's reach of the desk. (Bible, Concordance, Shakespeare, the "Life of John Howard," Pickwick, the "Golden Treasury"; these, thumbed and shabby, jostled the latest works on prison reform and criminology. An expressive bookshelf, as all bookshelves are.)

      One would not have picked out Lawrence Hadley for a prison chaplain; if chaplain at all, he surely belonged in the army. Look, bearing, voice—that clear ringing voice we remember so well—all bespoke the soldier; and a soldier he was, not only because of his service in the Philippines—he was in the army till his health broke down—but because he was born one.

      As I said, he seemed to be waiting for some one. His eyes were watching the yard, taking note of each figure that came and went, seeing that old Pete was walking lame, that French Bill was drooping and poking his head forward, a bad sign with him; that Mike was whistling, a good sign always; but while his eyes looked, his ears listened; and now, when it seemed that he had been listening a long time, came the familiar knock.

      "Ah!" The chaplain's chair, which had been tilted back on two legs for meditation, came down on four for action. "Come in!"

      "Pippin, sir!"

      "Come in, Pippin! I was looking for you."

      A young man entered and closed the door behind him, making no sound. He moved with an extraordinary grace and

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