as he looked at her, and even Billy and Davy were awed by what
they in no wise comprehended.

"Daddy dear," said the sweet voice, "I am going to be very fond of Mr.
De--of my father, by and by. We are going to be great friends, I know,
and that will make you glad. But I must always be your girl! I am not
afraid to sail out upon the broad middle ocean. I used to tell Davy that
I longed to go; but I want no other help than your chart, my Cap'n, and
my Davy's Light!" Her lifted eyes were tear-filled as they rested in
turn upon the two rugged faces. Then she looked at Thornly and her tears
were dried as desire grew to trust and perfect understanding; he opened
his arms to her and she came to him gladly.

"And my love, my Pimpernel!" he whispered as his lips pressed the soft,
ruddy hair.

The birds twittered among the nooks and corners of Davy's Light. The bay
sparkled, and across the dunes the ocean's voice spoke in the deep
cadences of a mighty organ's tone.

"_An' there was glory over all the land_," Davy chanted as he turned to
his evening duty. "_A flood o' glory._"

* * * * * *

JOHN FOX, JR'S.
STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.

THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE.

Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree
that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine
lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he
finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the
_foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and
the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder
chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine."

THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME.

Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It
is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often
springs the flower of civilization.

"Chad" the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he
came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood,
seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and
mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif,
by the way, who could play the banjo better than anyone else in the
mountains.

A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND.

Illustrated