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all“ {up ‘Ifi. an. ' ”- fl .q. ‘ul. mealforrido Summon SOAP If you wash linoleums and find the colors will fade. them last a long time if yo dirty, wash with warm water and Sunlight Soap, with a soft cloth. It makes homes bright and hears light. .It r free alkalis to injure the most delicate fabric. and wipe compliely dry throughout the house. contains no uupurlus o oilcloths '01: can . . u wash them with Sunlight Soap. W hen with ordinary soap you will preserve their colors and make rinse with clean water Use Sunlight Soap ASK FOR THE OCTAGON BAR. Sunligtlf Songb work: {he dot/Fe: with and won't injure flu lmnds. LEVER BROTHERS LIMITED, TORONTO. 7a . .n ..._'_â€"â€"â€"â€"__â€".._-_____â€"â€" . . . By . . . CHARLES CLARK MUN cmâ€" p-nu-“r' '1: an; 770‘ or mine hurt you even a little. I have forgot- ten what they were and wish you would. The visit which Bert and you are making me is a most delightful break in the monotony of my life. and i 8 next morning awaiting the train he said quietly: “hiay I send you a few books and some new songs when I get home. “is Page? I want to show you how much I have enjoyed this visit." “It is very nice of you to say so.” she replied. “and I shall be glad to be . remembered and hope you will visit us ' again." 3 {~39 be very glad to see you again." . And then. rising, she added. “If I hurt you. please say you forgive me. for I . must go out and see to getting tea." The last evening was passed much When the train came in he rather hurriedly odered his hand and with a “Permit me to thank you again” as he raised his hat turned away to gather up the satchels so as not to be witness to her leave taking from h. brother. CHAPTER XIII. . summer Southport island. as yet untainted by the tide of outing travel. was a spot to inspire dreams. poetry and i canvases covered with ocean lore. Its like the first. except that now the ‘ elusive Alice seemed to be transformed Into a far more gracious hostess. and all her smiles and interest seemed to be lavished upon Frank instead of her brother. It was as if this occult little lady had come to feel a new and sur- prising curiosity in all that co: corned many coves and inlets where the tides ebbed and flowed among the weed cov- ered rocks. its bold cliffs. sea washed. and above which the white gulls and - dshhawks circled; the deep thickets of ' spruce through which the ocean winds With true feminine skill. she plied him ‘ with all manner of questions and al- footed the deepest interest in all he had to say. What were his sisters' amuse- ments! Did they eatertajn much, play Where did they usually go summers. and did he M ally go with them? His own coming! and goings and where he had been and what he saw there were also made a part of the grist he was encouraged to grind. She even professed a keen in- terest in his yacht and listened pa- tiently to a most elaborate description of that craft, although as a rowboat was the largest vessel she had ever set toot on it is likely she did not gain a very clear Idea of the Gypsy. “Your yacht has a very suggestive name.” she said. "It makes one think of green woods and campfires. I ohould dearly love to take a sail in her. a nave read so much about yachts an. yachting that the idea of sailing along the shores in one's own floating house. as it were. has a fascination for me." This expression of taste was so much In line with Frank's. and the idea of having this charming girl for a yacht- Ing companion so tempting that his race glowed. “Nothing would give me greater pleasuro" he responded. “than to have you for a guest on my boat. Miss Page. I think it could be managed if I could only coax my mother and sisters to go. and you and your brother would join us. We would visit the Maine coast re- oorts and have no end of a good time." "It’s a delightful outing you sug- gest." she answered. “and I thank you very much. but I wouldn't think of coming if your family had to be coaxed to go. and then it's not likely that Bert could find the time." “Oh. I didn't mean it that way." he aaid. looking serious, “only mother and the girls are afraid of the water. that is all." When conversation lagged Frank begged that she would sing for him and suggested selections from Moody, and Sankey. and despite her brother’s sarcastic remark that it wasn’t a re« vival meeting they were holding she not only played and sang all those time worn melodies. but a lot of others from older collections. When retiring time came Frank asked that she con~ elude with “Ben Bolt." “I shall not need to recall that song to remind me of you." he said in a low voice as be spread it on the music rack in front of her. “but I shall al- ways feel its mood when I think of you." woes that mean that you will toms of me as sleeping ‘in a corner obscure and alone' in some churchyard?" she responded archly. “By no means," he said. “only I may perhaps have a little of the same mood at times that Ben Bolt had when he heard of the fate of his sweet Alice.” : murmured and where great beds of ‘ ferns and clusters of red bunch berries the life and “man" 0‘ he? Vi :itor. i grew were one .nd ‘1} left “w.mm week in. week out. At the Cape. where Uncle Terry. ‘ Aunt Lissy and Teity lived their sim- ‘ pie home life, and 813C031. the store- keeper and postmaster, tallied uncens- ingly when he could find a listener. and Deacon Oaks wondered why “the grace of God hadn't freed the land from stuns." no one ever came to dis~ turb its quietude. Every morning on cle Terry. often accompanied by Telly in a calico dress and sunbonnet. rowed out to pull his lobster traps. and after dinner harnessed and drove to the head of the island to meet the mail boat; then at eventide. after lighting his pipe and the lighthouse lamp at about the same time. generally strolled over to Bascom's to have a chat. while Telly made a call on the “Widder beach.” a misanthroplc but pious protegeo of hers. and Aunt Lissy read the paper. Once in about three weeks. according to weather, the monotony of the village was disturbed by the arrival of a small schooner owned Jointly by Uncle Terry. Oaks and Bascom. and which plied be- tween the Cape and Boston. Once in two weeks services were held. as usual. in the little brown church. and as often the lighthouse tender called and left coal and oil for Uncle Terry. Rogu- larly on Thursday evenings the few piously inclined. led by Deacon Oaks. gathered in the church to sing hymns they repeated fifty-two times each year. listen to a prayer by Oaks that seldom varied in a single sentence. and heard Auntie Leach thank the Lord for his "many mercies." though what they were in her case it would be hard to tell, unless being permitted to live alone and work hard to live at all was a mercy. The scattered islanders and the handful whose dwellings comprised the Cape worked hard. lived frugally and were unconscious that all around them was a rockyshore whose cliflls andinlets and beaches were so (many poems of picturesque and charming scene”. This was Southport in summer. but in winter. when the little harbor at As Cape was icobound. the winding road to the head of the island buried beneath drifts and the people often for weeks at a time absolutely cut off from communication with the rest on the world. it was a place cheerless in its desolation. Like so many wood- chucks then the residents kept within doors or only stirred out to cut wood. fodder the stock and shovel paths so that the children could go to school. The days were short and the evenings long. and to get together and spend hours in labored conversation the only pastime. It was one of those long even- ings and' when Aunt Lissy and Telly were at a neighbor’s and Uncle Terry. left to himself. was reading every line, including the advertisements, in the last Journal. that the following met ‘hiseye: WANTEDâ€"Information that will lead to the discovery of an heir to the estate of one’ Erie Peterson. a. landowner and ‘ shipbuilder of Stockholm. Sweden, whose somwlthhhwifnchlldandcrew.waa I'd cut out o' that page.” himself. “an’ never rest till I fit 'om." When Aunt Lissy and Telly came home Uncle Terry was as composed aaarockandsatqnietiypnnnghls pipe. with his feet on top of a chair and pointing toward the are. “Were you lonesome. father?" asked Telly. who usually led conversa. .1 la the Terry home. "We stopped at Bar coul's. and you know he never stops talking." “He's worse'n burdock burs ter git away from." answered Uncle Terry. “an’ ye can‘t be perllts for him unless ya want t’ spend the rest 0' yer life listenin'. His tongue allus seemed to: be hung in the middle an’ wag both ways. I wasn't lonesome," he contln~ nod. rising and adding a few sticks to the fire as the two women laid aside their wraps and drew chairs up. “I've read the paper purty well through an' had a spell o' livin' over bygones." and then. turning to Telly and smiling. he added: “I got thinkin' o' the day ye came ashore, an‘ mother she got that excited she act the box ye was in on the stove an' then put more wood in. It's a wonder she didn‘t put ye in the stove instead o' the wood!" As this joke was not new to the lls« toners no notice was taken of it. and the three lapsed into silence. Outside the stead“ boom of the surf beating on the rocks came with monot- onous regularity. and inside the clock ticked. For a long time Uncle Terry sat and smoked on in silence. resum- ing. perhaps. his bygones. and then said: “By the way. Telly. what's be- come 0’ them trinkets o’ yourn ye had on that day? It's been so long now. 'moet twenty years. I 'bout forgot 'em. I s'pose ye hain't lost 'an. hev ye?” “Why. no. father." she answered. a little surprised. “I hope not. They are all in a box in my bureau. and no one ever disturbs them.” “Ye wouldn’t mind fetchin‘ 'cm now. would ve. Telly?" he continued after She watched him take out the contents. drawing a long whiff of smoke and slowly emitting it in rings. "it's been so many years. an' since I got thiflklu‘ 'bout it I'd like to take a look at 'cm. jest to remind me 0’ that fortunate day ye came to us." The girl arose and. going upstairs. re- turned with a small tin box shaped like a trunk and. drawing the table up in front of Uncle Terry. set the box down upon it. As he opened it she perched herself on the arm of his chair and. leaning against his shoulder. passed one arm caressingly around his neck and watched him take out the contents. First came a soft. deecy blanket. then two little garments. once whitest mus- lin. but now yellow with age. and then another smaller one of flannel. Pinned to this were two tiny shoes of knitted wool. In the bottom of the box was a small wooden shoe. and though clumsy in comparison. yet evidently fashioned to fit a lady's foot. Tucked in this was a little box tic-.1 with faded ribbon. and 'in this were a locket and chain. two rings and a scrap of paper. The writ- ing on the paper. once hastily scrawled by a despairing mothers' hand. had al- most faded. and inside the locket were two faces. one a man's with strongly marked features. the other girlish with big eves and hair in curls. These were 2'] the heritage of this waif of the sea who now. a fair girl with eyes and face like the woman's picture. was leaning on the shoulder of her foster father, and they told a pathetic tale of life and death; of roâ€" mance and mystery not yet unwovon. How many times that orphan girl had imagined what that tale might be: how often before she had examined every one of those mute tokens; how many times gased with mute eyes at the faces, in the locket: and how. as the years her onward toward maturity passed. had she hoped and wnlmd. hoping ever that some word. a. poison tram that fared lam: :‘ stand an' watch the poor critters go- ' down. Long toward noon I spied a her birth might reach her: And as she looked at those mute rel- ics which told so little and yet so much of her history. while the old man who had been all that a kind father could be to her took them out one by one. she realized more than ever what a debt of gratitude she owed to him. When he had looked them over and put them back in the exact order in which they had been packed. he closed the box and. taking the little hand that had been caressing his face in his own wrinkled and bony one. held it for a moment. When he released it the girl stooped and. pressing her lips to his weather browned cheek. arose and re- sumed her seat. "Waal. ye better put the box away now." said Uncle Terry at last. “I'll jest go out an' take a look od‘n the p'int. and then it'll be time to turn in." cnapraa x‘rv. 'VE got to! go tor Boston." said Uncle Terry to his wife a few days later. "'I'har‘a some money due us that we ain't sartin we'll git. You an' Telly can tend the lights for a couple 0' nights. can't ye? I won‘t be gone more'n that. Bascom’s to take me up to the head. an' if the boat's runnin' I'll be all right." This plan had cost Uncle Terry a good deal of diplomacy. Not only did he have to invent a reasonable excuse for going by exciting the fears of both Bascom and Oaks regarding money really due them. but be bad to allay the I curiosity of his wife and Telly as well. In a small village like the Cape every one‘s movements were well known to all and commented on. and no one was better aware of it than Uncle Terry. But go to Boston he must. and to do so ‘ right in the dead of winter and not ex- cite a small tempest of curious gossip taxed his Yankee wit. At Bath he had a few hours’ wait and went to the bank and drew a sum ‘ of money from his small savings. I "Lawyers are sech sharps. consarn- ’em!" he said to himself. "I'd better go loaded. hiost likely I'll come back ' skinned. I never did tackle a lawyer 'thout losin’ my shirt." When. after an all night ride. during which he sat in the smoking car with his pipe and thoughts for company. he arrived in Boston. be felt. as he would . phrase it. like a rat in a strange gar- ret. He had tried to fortify himself against the expected meeting with this, I-‘rye. who. he felt sure. would make him pay dearly for any service. When I he entered the rather untidy olilce of~ that legal light Uncle Terry looked sus- . plciously at its occupant. 1 "Well, sir. what can I do for you?” , asked Frye after his visitor bud intro- ‘ duccd himself. “Wank" answered I'ncle Terry. tak- 3 ing a seat and laying his but on the door beside him. "I've come on rather a curls errand.” And, inking out the slip he had a few days before placed _ in his wallet. be handed it to I-‘rye with the remark. "That's my errand.” I-‘rye's face brightened I "I am very glad to see you. Mr. Ter- ry," he said. beginning to rub his hands together. “If you have any facts in your possession that will aid us in the search for an heir to this estate we shall be glad to pay you for them. two . vided they are facts. Now. sir. what is ‘ your story?" Uncle Terry looked at the lawyer a moment before answering. “I didn't come here to tell all I knew the fust go off." he said. “I know all 'bout this filpwreok an' a good deal more this nearn ye. but fust I want to k' w who is lookin' for the information an' what's likely to cum on't." ' It was Frye‘s turn to store now. “This man won't be any easy wit- “That I am not at liberty to disclose until I know what facts you can es- tnbliah. but rest assured that any in- formation you may have, if itbeproved of real value. will entitle you to an ample reward.” “Irookonyedon’tquiteketchonto my drift." replied Uncle Terry. “I didn’t can here tookln' fer pay. but to see that m was served an' them . as had rights got that dues." “Well. air." said me In a suave bundle workln' in. an' when it struck I made fast to it with a boat hook an' found a baby inside an' alive. My wife an' I took care on't and have been doing so ever since. It was a gal baby. and she growed up into a young lady. 'Bout trn years ago we took out papers legally adoptin’ her, an' so she's ours. From a paper we found pinned to her clothes we learned her name was Elelka Peterson. an' that her mother. an' we supposed her father. went down that day right in sight 0' us. Thar was a locket round the child's neck an' a couple 0' rings in the box. an' we have kept 'ern an' the papers an' all her baby clothes ever since. That's the hull story." “How did this child live to ashore?" asked Frye. keenly interest- ed. "That's the curls part." replied Uncle Terry. "She was put in a box an‘ tied 'lween two feather beds an' cum ashore dry as a duck." I-‘rye stroked his nose redectively. stooping over as he did and watching his visitor with hawk-like eyes. "A very well told tale. Mr. Terry." be said at last. “A very well told tale indeed! Of course you have retained all the articles you say were found on the child?" "Yes. we‘ve kept 'em all. you may be sure." replied Uncle Terry. “And why did you never make any official report of this wreck and of the facts you state?" asked l-‘rye. "I did at the time." answercd Uncle Terry. "but nolhfn' cum on'l. I guess my report is thar in Washington now. if it ain’t lost." "And do I understand you wish to retain mean your counsel in this mal- ler and lay claim to this estate. hlr. Terry?" continued I-‘rye. "Waal. I've told ye the facts." re. plied. I'm-h Terry. "an' if the gnl's got money comin' l'd like to se» her glt it. What's goin' to be the cost 0' dozn' the business?” "The mailer of expense is hard to to in such a case as this." answered Frye cautiously. "The estate is a large one. There may be. and no doubt will be. other claimants. Litigation um, follow. and so the cost is an unl‘efinin one. I shall be glad to act for you in this matter and will do so if you re- tain me." It is said that ihooe who hesitate are lost. and at this critical moment I'nrze Terry hesitated. (To be continued.» # I 1“ 'Ll'l’ I. IIOW Ic owe their lll‘f'fr‘l! Motor health to the {act that they consult" m by letter. giving him all pom-.blc in- formation about their condition. .q Ulflicilh. m. Ind received in return (and medical advice whirl: can Mm null-u; . Wm: to Dr. 2. VgPierce. founder of t e Invalid" Hotel and Surgical Institute. Bufl'alo, N. Y. Dr. Pierce by no means confines himself to prescribing his well-known medicines. . He tells you in (he most commonsense way what ails you, what you ought to do. what line of treatment should be followed out in your icular ease. and if your case does not in ionic the need for this proprie- tary medicine. he tells you plainly and hanklby who! you do need. and the best possi c method of improving your health. Dr. Pierce treats many chronic cases at a finance. through the mail and all you have to do is to write him your symptoms. 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