e man. Then she flew across
the room with a cry of delight.

"Father!"

For ten minutes not one intelligible word was said, what with
laughing and crying and kissing. Mary Margaret was the first to
recover herself and say briskly, "Now, _do_ explain, somebody. Tell me
how it all happened."

"Martin and I got back to Harbour Head too late last night to cross
over," said her mother. "It would have been madness to try to cross in
the storm, although I was nearly wild thinking of you two children.
It's well I didn't know the whole truth or I'd have been simply
frantic. We stayed at the Head all night, and first thing this morning
came your father."

"We came in last night," said Captain Campbell, "and it was pitch
dark, not a light to be seen and beginning to snow. We didn't know
where we were and I was terribly worried, when all at once the Big
Dipper light I'd been looking for so vainly flashed out, and
everything was all right in a moment. But, Mary Margaret, if that
light hadn't appeared, we'd never have got in past the reefs. You've
saved your father's ship and all the lives in her, my brave little
girl."

"Oh!" Mary Margaret drew a long breath and her eyes were starry with
tears of happiness. "Oh, I'm so thankful I went over. And I _had_ to
tie Nellie in her chair, Mother, there was no other way. Uncle George
broke his leg and is very sick this morning, and there's no breakfast
ready for anyone and the fire black out ... but that doesn't matter
when Father is safe ... and oh, I'm so tired!"

And then Mary Margaret sat down just for a moment, intending to get
right up and help her mother light the fire, laid her head on her
father's shoulder, and fell sound asleep before she ever suspected
it.

The Prodigal Brother

Miss Hannah was cutting asters in her garden. It was a very small
garden, for nothing would grow beyond the shelter of the little, grey,
low-eaved house which alone kept the northeast winds from blighting
everything with salt spray; but small as it was, it was a miracle of
blossoms and a marvel of neatness. The trim brown paths were swept
clean of every leaf or fallen petal, each of the little square beds
had its border of big white quahog clamshells, and not even a
sweet-pea vine would have dared to straggle from its appointed course
under Miss Hannah's eye.

Miss Hannah had always lived in the little grey house down by the
shore, so far away from all the other houses in Prospect and