Summary

Anonymous The Story of the White-Rock Cove

I had taken up the kite in my hand, but I threw it aside again the moment George turned his back upon me, and sitting down upon the stones near the water's edge, with Frisk's fore-paws stretched across my lap, looked gloomily at the water and at Aleck's new boat. Evil feelings grew stronger and stronger within me as I looked. Though fascinated so that I could not take my eyes off it, I hated the very sight of the pretty little schooner, and wished heartily that George had never made it.
Source: Gutenberg

Anonymous The Story of the White-Rock Cove

Thither, then, I led the way, Aleck following me closely, and George more slowly behind.
"There now," I cried, drawing up breathlessly as we gained our destination, "see, that's my boat-house." It was an exact miniature of the real boat-house, and Aleck stood transfixed with admiration looking at it; for of all things calculated for the amusement of children, nothing, I think, succeeds so well as real miniatures—imitations in proportion—of things which belong to the grown-up world.
Source: Gutenberg

Anonymous The Story of the White-Rock Cove

I sometimes think we remember our life in pictures: certainly the very frontispiece of my acquaintance with my cousin Aleck always is, and will be, a distinct mind's eye picture of that party in the carriage, with myself in their midst.
Uncle Gordon sitting in the right hand corner with his arm round me, keeping me very close to himself, so that I might not crowd my aunt, who was leaning back on the other side of me, as though weary with the long journey.
Source: Gutenberg

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