Big Brother 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Big Brother, by Annie 
Fellows-Johnston This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no 
cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give 
it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License 
included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 
Title: Big Brother 
Author: Annie Fellows-Johnston 
Release Date: June 3, 2006 [EBook #18496] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIG 
BROTHER *** 
 
Produced by David Garcia, Jeannie Howse and the Online Distributed 
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced 
from images generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital 
Library) 
 
BIG BROTHER 
[Illustration: ROBIN]
"Cosy Corner Series" 
BIG BROTHER 
BY 
ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON 
[Illustration] 
BOSTON JOSEPH KNIGHT COMPANY 1894 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1893 BY JOSEPH KNIGHT COMPANY 
 
[Illustration: ILLUSTRATIONS] 
PAGE 
ROBIN Frontispiece 
"A BAREFOOT GIRL WEARING A SUNBONNET" 1 
"MRS. ESTEL WAS LISTENING TO LITTLE SCRAPS OF 
HISTORY," ETC. 9 
"THE LITTLE WHITE COTTAGE IN NEW JERSEY," 19 
"ROBIN FOLLOWED HIM EVERYWHERE" 21 
"STEVEN WOULD COAX HIM OVER IN A CORNER TO LOOK 
AT THE BOOK" 23 
"THE BLACK DANCING BEAR HAD ALWAYS TO BE PUT TO 
BED" 26
"ONCE HE TOOK A BALL OF YARN TO ROLL AFTER THE 
WHITE KITTEN" 29 
"HE WANTED TO GET AWAY FROM THE HOUSE," ETC. 43 
"THEY COMMENCED TO BUILD A SNOW MAN" 54 
 
BIG BROTHER. 
Every coach on the long western-bound train was crowded with 
passengers. Dust and smoke poured in at the windows and even the 
breeze seemed hot as it blew across the prairie cornfields burning in the 
July sun. 
[Illustration] 
It was a relief when the engine stopped at last in front of a small village 
depot. There was a rush for the lunch counter and the restaurant door, 
where a noisy gong announced dinner. 
"Blackberries! blackberries!" called a shrill little voice on the platform. 
A barefoot girl, wearing a sunbonnet, passed under the car windows, 
holding up a basket full, that shone like great black beads. A gentleman 
who had just helped two ladies to alight from the steps of a parlor car 
called to her and began to fumble in his pockets for the right change. 
"Blackberries! blackberries!" sang another voice mockingly. This time 
it came from a roguish-looking child, hanging half-way out of a 
window in the next car. He was a little fellow, not more than three 
years old. His hat had fallen off, and his sunny tangle of curls shone 
around a face so unusually beautiful that both ladies uttered an 
exclamation of surprise. 
"Look, papa! Look, Mrs. Estel!" exclaimed the younger of the two. "Oh, 
isn't he a perfect picture! I never saw such eyes, or such delicate 
coloring. It is an ideal head."
"Here, Grace," exclaimed her father, laughingly. "Don't forget your 
berries in your enthusiasm. It hasn't been many seconds since you were 
going into raptures over them. They certainly are the finest I ever saw." 
The girl took several boxes from her basket, and held them up for the 
ladies to choose. Grace took one mechanically, her eyes still fixed on 
the child in the window. 
"I'm going to make friends with him!" she exclaimed impulsively. 
"Let's walk down that way. I want to speak to him." 
"Blackberries!" sang the child again, merrily echoing the cry that came 
from the depths of the big sunbonnet as it passed on. 
Grace picked out the largest, juiciest berry in the box, and held it up to 
him with a smile. His face dimpled mischievously, as he leaned 
forward and took it between his little white teeth. 
"Do you want some more?" she asked. 
His eyes shone, and every little curl bobbed an eager assent. 
"What's your name, dear," she ventured, as she popped another one into 
his mouth. 
"Robin," he answered, and leaned farther out to look into her box. "Be 
careful," she cautioned; "you might fall out." 
He looked at her gravely an instant, and then said in a slow, quaint 
fashion: "Why, no; I can't fall out, 'cause big brother's a holdin' on to 
my feet." 
She drew back a little, startled. It had not occurred to her that any one 
else might be interested in watching this little episode. She gave a 
quick glance at the other windows of the car, and then exclaimed: 
"What is it, papa,--a picnic or a travelling orphan asylum? It looks like 
a whole carload of children." 
Yes, there they were, dozens of them, it seemed; fair faces and freckled
ones, some dimpled and some thin; all bearing the marks of a long 
journey on soot-streaked features and grimy hands, but all wonderfully 
merry and good-natured. 
Just then a tired-looking man swung himself down the steps, and stood 
looking around him, knitting    
    
		
	
	
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