The sea hare was still, now half its size. Its limp frills shifted only with the movement of the tide. Reaching into the murky water, I pulled out the bucket and put it back into four tiny hands. They ...

OR, THE LITTLE OLD SHOE. by Louisa May Alcott HOW IT WAS LOST. Among green New England hills stood an ancient house, many-gabled, mossy-roofed, and quaintly b ...