Other editions of book Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

The indomitable ten-year-old Rebecca has been sent away from her home at Sunnybrook Farm to live with her two spinster aunts in the quiet town of Riverboro in order to be brought up as a proper little lady.Precocious, curious, and full of creative energy, Rebecca isn't quite ready to be tamed yet. The prim and demanding Aunt Miranda has her hands full. But soon, Rebecca's irrepressible spirit and bright intelligence win the hearts of all in Riverboro, including her rigid aunt…and she even manages to become a fine young lady in the process.The unconventional and charismatic Rebecca, a wholly new kind of girl character when she was first introduced in 1903, has since become one of the most beloved characters in children's literature.

Tor Classics are affordably-priced editions designed to attract the young reader. Original dynamic cover art enthusiastically represents the excitement of each story. Appropriate "reader friendly" type sizes have been chosen for each title--offering clear, accurate, and readable text. All editions are complete and unabridged, and feature Introductions and Afterwords.This edition of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm includes a Foreword, Biographical Note, and Afterword by Nancy Springer.Poor Aunt Miranda and Aunt Jane. When they kindly agreed to take in the ten-year old daughter of a poor relation they never expected...Rebecca. Irrepressible and opinionated, Rebecca bursts into town like a bull in a china shop. The aunts do their best to turn Rebecca into a proper lady, but it may be easier to tame a wild horse! Rebecca has a mind very much her own and she has a real talent for mischief. She practically turns the sleepy town of Riverboro upside down. And happily, no one would have it any other way.One thing about Rebecca: whenever and wherever she turns up, adventure is sure to follow.

The old stage coach was rumbling along the dusty road that runs from Maplewood to Riverboro. The day was as warm as midsummer, though it was only the middle of May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight of the fact that he carried the mail. The hills were many, and the reins lay loosely in his hands as he lolled back in his seat and extended one foot and leg luxuriously over the dashboard. His brimmed hat of worn felt was well pulled over his eyes, and he revolved a quid of tobacco in his left cheek.

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The old stage coach was rumbling along the dusty road that runs from Maplewood to Riverboro. The day was as warm as midsummer, though it was only the middle of May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight of the fact that he carried the mail. The hills were many, and the reins lay loosely in his hands as he lolled back in his seat and extended one foot and leg luxuriously over the dashboard. His brimmed hat of worn felt was well pulled over his eyes, and he revolved a quid of tobacco in his left cheek.There was one passenger in the coach,—a small dark-haired person in a glossy buff calico dress. She was so slender and so stiffly starched that she slid from space to space on the leather cushions, though she braced herself against the middle seat with her feet and extended her cotton-gloved hands on each side, in order to maintain some sort of balance. Whenever the wheels sank farther than usual into a rut, or jolted suddenly over a stone, she bounded involuntarily into the air, came down again, pushed back her funny little straw hat, and picked up or settled more firmly a small pink sun shade, which seemed to be her chief responsibility,—unless we except a bead purse, into which she looked whenever the condition of the roads would permit, finding great apparent satisfaction in that its precious contents neither disappeared nor grew less. Mr. Cobb guessed nothing of these harassing details of travel, his business being to carry people to their destinations, not, necessarily, to make them comfortable on the way. Indeed he had forgotten the very existence of this one unnoteworthy little passenger.When he was about to leave the post-office in Maplewood that morning, a woman had alighted from a wagon, and coming up to him, inquired whether this were the Riverboro stage, and if he were Mr. Cobb. Being answered in the affirmative, she nodded to a child who was eagerly waiting for the answer, and who ran towards her as if she feared to be a moment too late. The child might have been ten or eleven years old perhaps, but whatever the number of her summers, she had an air of being small for her age. Her mother helped her into the stage coach, deposited a bundle and a bouquet of lilacs beside her, superintended the "roping on" behind of an old hair trunk, and finally paid the fare, counting out the silver with great care. - Taken from "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" written by Kate Douglas Wiggin