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“And all the time, Violet is not Sure Whether it'will be worth while to marry him or not/{whether he will adequately fill the place of someone called Jem Stibbard!” The thought flashed through Joy’s mind, and that evening, when the two girls were going to bed, it re- curred to her again. This time it came with an unwsy wonder whe- ther Violet was living quite such a, simple and straightforward a life as appeared on the surface; or whe- ther she was trying to play a, douâ€" ble game, keeping her hold upon the old love, whilst dallying with the new. Joy was sitting before the fire, slowly brushing her hair, and thinkâ€" ing of Violet’s incomprehensible character, and yet more incompreâ€" hensible conversation, when a. tap on her door was rollowed by the entrance of Violet herselfâ€"13. lovely vision in the palest of pale blue wrappers, trimmed with filmy lace, that gave her a. touch of ethereal beauty; Her hair lay about her shoulders like a cloud of gold; her eyes shone like two stars, and Joy, looking up at her, caught her breath quickly. “AfEer all, when she looks like this,” was her thought, “she is wonderfully irresistible.” “I just thought I’d like to show you the photos ofâ€"of some of my old friends,” Violet said, coming close to the fire and kneeling down beside Joy’s chair. “I’ve never had anybody to show things to since I came here. Lady Martindale’s too stiff and grand, and, of course, Sir Godfrey”â€"â€"she punctuated her un- finished sentence with one of those giggles which so hopelessly betrayâ€" ed her lack of breeding; but the pathos of her words struck the senâ€" sitive ear of the girl who heard them, and she forgot the're-st. "Never .ind ” she said, in re- sponse {B glioleé’s outburst, "Jon’t think no’w about what is past and done with. You have all the love- liness and luxury here for your own, and you really are a very “After 511, when 11%; looks like this,” was her thought, “she is wonderfully irresispiblgzj’ Not .eyen in mcenfidences to de”h'§H“Viol‘et ‘ ‘ indulged the precise nature of her early envir- onment. Without exactly saying it in so many words, she had led Joy to believe that her early life had been passed amongst genteel, mid- dle-class folk, probably, Joy sur- mized, of the shopkeeper class. The actual truth about her upbringing and youthful surroundings was_far removed indeed from Joy’s imagin- ings, and the innate truthfulness of her own nature making it almost impossible to her to doubt other people she was, as Violet would have put it, f‘easy enough to gull.” “I don‘t know anything good about my father,” Violet answered mutino-usly. “He let me be brought, up inâ€"well, in a. poor sort of way, whilst he ‘was living here in lux- ury.” “Oh, hush!” Joy’s touch was very gentle. “It doesn’t seem quite right to speak of one’s father like that. And, when people are dead, don’t you think it’s best only to remember only the good things about them “I” ’ With a. wave of sympathy Joy seemed to see and understand Vioâ€" let’s isolation at Standon Towers, and what that isolation must have meant to a girl accustomed to the society of friends of her own age and class. The little pathetic look in Violet’s eyes touched an answer- ing chord in Joy’s heart; she put out her hand and laid it on the other’s shoulder. “Sometimesâ€"J just loathe it!” Violet rejoined, in a sudden burst of frankness. “It’s the stiffness I hate. There’s such a, lot of things you mustn’t do, and a lot more you’ve got to do in a different way; and I’m sharp enough to know my maid Ellen laughs up her sleeve at me because I don’t do everything pat off. It isn’t my fault my father left me to be brought up the way he did. I should say it was me that should be ashamed but that he ought to be ashamed of himself for neglecting his daughter so abominably.” “I’ve never had anybody to show thigs to since I came here!’_’ “Do show me the photographs,” she said; “it mush sometimes feel 1031er for you here, without your old friends and surroundings.” A- DIFFICULT SHUAHGN ; CHAPTER XI.â€"(Cont’d) OR, THE END CROWNS ALL. “Oh, well â€" perhaps”â€"Violet shrugged her pretty shoulders; “onlv I don’t like to think that cat, Carry Shrimpton, is having it all her own way now I’m gone.” “Carry Shrimpton?” “We were a good bit about to- gether, she and 1; she was a bosom friend of mineâ€"once; only I found out she was a cat, trying to make up to Jem and the others when my back was turned. Not that Jem ever looked at her twice. He didn’t- care a scrap for anybody but me. This is him.” From a packet of photographs she drew out one and laid it in Joy’s lap. The girl was sore put to it what to say about the vulgar-looking youth, whose prominent eyes stared up at her, and whose facetious smile gave her a. sense of repulsion. But Violet saved her the trouble of saying anything, for she went on speaking herself, fast and eagerly: lucky? girl.” “He’s awfully good-looking â€" quite in a different style from Sir Godfrey”â€"(“Quite,” Joy com" mented inwardly)â€"“not such clear- cut, severe features. But he’s aw- fully good-looking, all the same! Then these”â€"she placed several more photographs before Joy - “these are some of my other friends.” A strange medley of faces, male and female, looked up at Joy. who falterineg tried to express inter- est in the vulgar, fatuous coun- tenances, trying to put herself in Violet’s place and to see these curi- ous beings with her eyes. Violet talked excitedly about each photo- graph, but it needed no deep per- ception on the part of her listener The winter days were lengthen- ing; in the air there was that first touch of spring which even an early February will bring us. A purple tinge was creeping over the copses; already the elm boughs showed a deepening red- there were snow- drops in the (lell beside the lake, and crocuses flamed orange, white, and purple in the garden-beds at Standon Towers. To Joy, that first hint of spring in the softness'of the “Goodness, no!” Violet looked into Joy’s face with eyes as limpid~ ly candid as those of a child. “There’s no harm in me and Jem going on being friends. He’s just like a brother, honor bright, he is.” And looking again into Joy’s face with the straightforward glance of perfect candour, Violet left the room, leaving Joy with a confused sense that something was wrong, yet with an honorable woman’s conviction that Violet’s words, "honor bright,” set her statements beyond a possibility of doubt: she assurred herself that all was as it should be, so completelv is a wo- man of honor at the mercy of one to whom the very words honor and honorable mean nothing, and less than nothing. to realize that the gentleman who called himself Jem Stibbard had a place in her affections quite apart from the others, and Joy received a. startling confirmation of her sur- mises, for, as Violet rose to go, gathering her photographs to- gether, a letter dropped from the folds of her wrapper and fell at Joy’s feet. The signature and the date fell uppermost; the bright light of the fire fell full upon them, and it was impossible for Joy not to read what was so plainly writâ€" ten in a large untidy handwritingâ€" “Your most loving, Jem.” The date was the date of two days before, and as Violet, with glowing eyes, stooped to pick up the letter, her eyes looked defiantly at Joy. “Oh! it’s all right,” Violet spoke flippantly. “I’ve known Jem since we were babes. We’re really like brother and sister, and he writes to me the same as if he was. I suppose”â€"â€"after a pauseâ€"“I sup- pose you won’t think it necessary to go and talk over what I've told you and all this with Lady Martin- dale?” Joy sprang to her feet. “Of course not!” she said indigâ€" nantly. “I don’t repeat things people say to me in confidence. Buds, Violet, you wouldn’t do anything underhand, would you? Anything that would really deceive Lady Martindale?” m “Ivsuppose you sawrwhat was written?” she said. “I am very sorry, but I couldn’t help seeing.” CHAPTER XII. February air was intoxicating. To- wards sunset she walked slowly backvfrom the village, drinking in the mossy fragrance of the hedges, the indescribable odor of the fields, that subtle promise of spring which penetrated to the innermost depths of her beingâ€"something within her shouted for joy as loudly as the thrushes were shouting from the woods. _ “Spring’s coming! spring’s com- mg! sprmg’sr commg !” The song of the thrush quickened the beat of her pulses, bringing a queer little lump into her throat. Involuntarin her thoughts travel led back to the day, now two months ago, when Roger had seen her off at Waterloo, when {Roger’s hand had held hers in so close a. clasp, and Roger’s eyes had looked into hers with an expression which, even now when she was alone in the lane, brought a. flush to her face. She did not try to analyze either Roger’s glance or her own sensaâ€" tions: Joy was not given to intro~ specti'on; her nature was of too wholesome and sane a texture for selfâ€"analysis. But her own heart and senses were in tune with the coming spring that was close at hand; some answering chord withâ€" in her vibrated to the chord that was being set in motion all over the land. She paused beside a gate in- to a field, and, leaning against it, looked out with a smile over the wide landscape. The good brown earth beyond was already plough- ed and ready soon to be sown; or the sheltered hedge to her right the yellow catkins swung in the breeze; beyond the brown field a, vista of hills and woodland spread out in a vast expanse, melting into the blue distance like a stretch of ocean. Across the sunset sky. a daffodil yellow, rooks wheeled homewards, ‘their melodious voices mingling ‘with the tinkle of sheep-bells in the meadows and the calling of the thrushes across the copse below the gate. “What a lovely world!” the girl exclaimed aloud, putting out her hands towards the sweep of country at‘her feet. “What a lovely world ! that knows spring is just waiting to open the door and come in.” And with a happy smile still on her face she was turning away from the gate, when her attention was caught and held by a murmur of voices coming from the hazel copse. The tones were a little raised; it seemed as if both voices were talkâ€" ing together, and that a lively alâ€" tercation was in progress, and Joy, not wishing to disturb the impres- sion wrought upon her by the peaceful evening, quickened her steps, when they were arrested by a high, angry laugh whose tones she at once recognized. That shrill laugh was unmistakable. How of- ten she had seen Lady Martindale wince when Violet’slaugh rang out across the drawingâ€"room! But why was Violet here, in the hazel copse, when she had most plainly said at luncheon that she intended drivâ€" ing into the town in the dogâ€"cart to do some shopping? Indeed, Joy had seen her start from the house and drive down the road towards Stansworth; it was impossible that, in the time, she, could have driven to Stansworth and back and be in the hazel copse now. And yetâ€"that laugh sounded like hers: Perhaps, ‘Joy reflected, she was wrong; she tried to assure herself that her ears were deceiving her. How could Violet be there, and to whom could she be talking out here amongst the hazels? The laugh rang out again, and this time a trifle nearer the lane, and Joy’s eyes grew startled. She could no longer doubt the evidence of her own senses; no one but Violet laughed just like that, and a sec- ond later Violet’s voice drifted across the field to the ears of the petrified listener. ¢ “No, Jem, don’tâ€"don’t be silly! Well, if I let you kiss meâ€"you aren’t to take too much for grant- ed!” A man’s voice replied, its vulgar intonation travelled far on the still ED. 5 OVRIL Tasty Dishes Soups, hashes and chow- ders of all kinds are made more appetising and more nutritious by stirring in a. lit- tle Bovril. BOVRIL is the concen- trated flavor and strength of prime beef. Mix a, little Bovril with your favorite salad dress- ing. ' ' Makes FOR ISSUE 26â€"11 “I’ve got to’ know you aren’t playing fast and loose with me-â€"-I can’t take that for granted; I don’t trust you enough for that, my fine lady. /There’s a. god deal of talk in the village about you and that darned swell, Sir Godfrey! If I thought him and you was carrying on together, I’d kill him as soon as look at him!” air: Joy heard it_ plainly. “Oh, Jem!” Violet’s voice ex- claimed; and, having heard so mueh of the dialogue, for the simple rea- son that horrified amazement had held her in dumb dismay by the gate, Joy now turned and fled up the lane, her mind seething with disgust and indignation, only con- scious of the desire DO put the great- est possible distance between her- self and the two speakers, who must shortly emerge from the copse. She did not pause in her breathâ€" less flight until she had nearly reached the lodge gates of Standon Towers, and here she waited to get her breath and to regain composure before entering the house. To conâ€" front Lady Martindale. in a pantâ€" ing éondition and showing traces of confusion, was the last thing she wished, for Gertrude’s eyes were observant; she would have seen any sings of unusual emotion in Joy, and would have questioned her ac- cordingly. The girl slipped quietly upstairs to her own room, and before going down to tea washed her flushed face, reduced her tumbled hair to some semblance of order, and reâ€" moved from her gown the appear- ances of her hasty flight down the lane. When she went into the drawing-room a quarter of an hour later, her face was still flushed, her eyes've‘ry bright, but Lady-Martin- dale, looking up from her book with o‘-- â€" r _ “You look as if you enjoyed the hint of. spring we have got to- day,” she said, smiling again in response to Joy’s smile, and re- pressing a wish that her step-daugh- ter might have been more like this sweet-eyed. gentle-voiced girl. “One can almost hear the birds and flowers say ‘Spring’s ooming,’ ” Joy answered, glad for a few moâ€" ments to thrust from her mind all the uncomfortable recollections of the afternoon, remembering only its pleasant side. “I found periâ€" winkles in flower on one sheltered bank, and there is a sort of deliciâ€" ous look about the hedges and trees as though they were just waiting on.tiptoe to begin to shoot into leaf. And the birds! The thrushes couldn’t sing loudly enough in that copse close to the great View.” Joy had named the outlook from the gate by which she often lingered “the great View.” The vast space of country under the overâ€"arching dome of sky gave her an abiding sense of restfulness, and the very thought of it now soothed some of the turmoil of disgust in her mind. “GAG, LUUXXJLAE “4 ;Av.-- "V- I. vâ€" .._-,, a Smile, merely thought this due to the fresh spring air and to the gir1:_s quj‘ck‘ walk'ing. 1‘1, “I am glad on like oilr beauti- ful country,” ady Martindale an- swered, handing Joy her tea. “Our big blue distances appeal to me as nothing else does anywhere; they make one feel that all the little worries are, after all, so very un-i important, and that the poet was right when she saidâ€" “And I love to think God’s great- ness Lies around our incompletenessâ€"â€" Round our restlessnessâ€"His rest.” Joy’s eyes flashed a, glance of unâ€" is a favorite in distant Countries as well as being the most popular Polish in Canada and the United States. Australia alone takes over half a million boxes per year. Superior merit is the reason. It contains no Turpentine. Tryit with a match. It is good for your shoes. THE F. F. DALLEY CO., Limited, HAMILTON, Ont. BUFFALO. N. Y. and LONDON, Eng. derstanding into the face of the' elder woman. It was so seldom that Lady Martindale, m spite of all berg gracious courtesy, ever brokoi through her natural reserve, that} this sudden revelation of her inner thoughts both touched and pleasedl the girl. 7 - “Aunt Rachel loves those words, too,” she said simply; “she never let any of the little worries trouble her. She has a dear little homely verse of her own that she always quotes: and she says it has helped her over; and over again when things seemed difficult.” “Your aunt must have a very tbeautiful nature,” Lady Mannin- dale answered, looking thoughtful- 1y into Joy’s face; “she seems to have given you such a hopeful, sunny outlook on life. You are very suitably named.” “Aunt Rachel says that, too. She thinks that my father and mother were very, very happv together beâ€" cause I have always been so happy by nature.” “VI Vdon’jc remember either 0: them. I was a tiny baby rwrhenâ€"’ “Then you lost them bothâ€"you! father and motherâ€"when you were very young?” ' The little story of her life wa( abruptly broken in upon by the quick opening of the door, and by Violet’s entrance, with the words« “Nurse, has the baby had. a pow- der T’ “Yes, ma’a-m.” “And those hypophos‘phites ‘I” “Yes, mafiami” “And tine magnesia?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Did you put a, poul'tic'e on hit back?” “Yes, ma’am.” “And a cold compress on hi1 chest?” “Yes, ma’am.” “And he’s no better ’1” “No, ma’am.” I “How s‘travngeE I think we had better send for the doctor.” “Oh! I am glad to find tea. I’m as tired as a dog at a fair!” (To be continued.) When the sewers of the bodyâ€"~bowe19, kidneys and skin ductsâ€"get clogged up, the blood quickly becomes impure and frequently sores break out over the body. T he way to heal them, as Mr. Richard. Wilson, who lives near London, Ont, found, is to purify the blood. He‘ writes: At last Dr. Morse‘s Indian Root Pills were brought to my notice, and they are one of the most wonderful medicines I’ have ever known. My blood was nth fled in a very short time, sores heale up, my indigestion vanished. They always. have a plac’e in 1:)? home and are looked. upon 23 the fam' y remedy." ,‘A,!- 1_:I.,_. h--A “III- .I-_u-_ “For some time I had been in a low, depressed condition. My appetite left‘ me and I soon began to sufler from indi<- gestion. Quite a number of small sores; and blotches formed all over my skin. I tried medicine for the blood and used’ many kinds of ointr‘nents, but without satisfactory results. What was wanted‘ Was a thorough cleansing of the blood, and I looked about in vain for some medi-- cine that would accomplish this. fidérsé’shlnd‘iagmkoo't t e system t orou . o a . dealers at 25¢ a box. y y 6: Dr. Morse’s Indlan Root Plllo Healed Mr. WIleon's Sores WHIFIEB HIS BLOW “Do your best, Leave the rest.” POOR BABY.