PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
Project Gutenberg Archive
Complete unabridged public-domain literary work from the Project Gutenberg archive.
Project Ashabi is being built as the home of original African comics, webtoons, graphic novels, and fiction.
This third-party Novel / Book title is temporary preview content. Step by step, third-party titles will be phased out and replaced exclusively by Ashabi Originals created by African writers and artists.
Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines.
I. AFTER A SHADOW. II. IN THE WAY OF TEMPTATION. III. ANDY LOVELL. IV. A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. V. WHAT CAN I DO? VI. ON GUARD. VII. A VISIT WITH THE DOCTOR. VIII. HADN'T TIME FOR TROUBLE. IX. A GOOD NAME. X. LITTLE LIZZIE. XI. ALICE AND THE PIGEON. XII. DRESSED FOR A PARTY. XIII. COFFEE VS. BRANDY. XIV. AMY'S QUESTION. XV. AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE. XVI. WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY? XVII. OTHER PEOPLE'S EYES.
"ARTY! Arty!" called Mrs. Mayflower, from the window, one bright June morning. "Arty, darling! What is the child after? Just look at him, Mr. Mayflower!"
I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what new and wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy--my first born--my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whose bosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out upon the air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escaped from his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slant rays of which threw a long shadow before him.
"Arty, darling!" His mother's voice flew along and past his ear, kissing it in gentle remonstrance as it went by. But baby was in eager pursuit of something, and the call, if heard, was unheeded. His eyes were opening world-ward, and every new phenomenon--commonplace and unheeded by us--that addressed itself to his senses, became a wonder and a delight. Some new object was drawing him away from the loving heart and protecting arm.
"Run after him, Mr. Mayflower!" said my wife, with a touch of anxiety in her voice. "He might fall and hurt himself."
I did not require a second intimation as to my duty in the case. Only a moment or two elapsed before I was on the pavement, and making rapid approaches towards my truant boy.
"What is it, darling? What is Arty running after?" I said, as I laid my hand on his arm, and checked his eager speed. He struggled a moment, and then stood still, stooping forward for something on the ground.
Arthur Conan Doyle
