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ow -your stocking and m How to wash silk stockings: Skip a spoonful of Lux Be ouy lather. Press 334s theough and chrough soiled ts. Rinse three lukewarm waters, squeeze water out-- do not wring, When neatly dry, press with warm iron. Always wash col- oured silks quickly, in s ~sheer delicate - can be ade to last Silk is an animal fibre, more sensitive than the skin on your face, becausc it has not the skin's * power of renewing itself. Evena soap that is safe for the face might not be quite fine or mil enough for those gossamer-like weaves with their lovely new colours. Wash your stockings in Lux after every wearing. Gently press the foamy suds through and through them, This frees them from perspiration--that deadly encmy to silk and to colours. { Lux contains no ig in- gredients of any kind. It is so pure and mild ic will safely cleanse anything that water alone won't harm. MODELS THAT AT PRICES THAT PLEASE AT APPEAL Beautiful, new models. The newest Spring style in Strap, Gore and Cut-out Pumps, high or low heels, in Satin, Light Tan, Calf and Suede. See our Blonde Satin Pumps. The Sawyer Shoe Store Phone 159. 184 Princess St. CHASE <SANBORNS TEA MAINTAINS THE REPUTATION : LSTABLISHED BY OUR a COFFEE : X -Y Oe VISIT ABRAMSON'S FOR YOUR BOYS' SUITS AND CLOTHING! WE SELL FOR LESS BOYS' BLUE SERGE SUITS With an extra pair of Pants, which means double the wear. Guaranteed Foxe's Pure BOYS' BLOOMERS hard Wool, THE DAILY BRITISH WHIG ,S0N OF KAZAN James CHAPTER XXX---Continued. [ Something greater than mere cur. iosity began to take possession of Car- | vel. A whimsical humioy became a | fixed and deeper thought, an unrea- | soning anticipation that was accom- | panied by a certain thrill of subdued | excitement. By the time they reached | the old beaver-pond the mystery of | the strange adventure had a firm hold on him. From Beaver-tooth's colony Baree led Rim to the creek along which Wakayoo, the black bear, had | fished, and thence straight to the Gray | Loon. It was early afternoon of a wonder- ful day. It was so, still that the ripp- ling waters of spring, singing % a thousand rills and streamlets, filled the forests with a" droning music. In the warm sun the crimson bakneesh glow. ed like blood. In the open spaces the air was scented with the perfume of Blue Flowers. In the trees and bushes mated birds were building their nests. After the long sleep of winter Nature was a work in all her glory. It was Unekepesim, the Mating Moon, the Home Building Moon--and Baree was going hime. Not to matehood--but to Nepeese. He knew that she was there now, perhaps at the very edge of the chasm where he had seen her last. They would be playing together again soon, as they had played yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, and in his joy he barked up into Carvel's face, and urged him to great- er speed. Then they came to the clear- ing, and once more Baree stood like a rock. Carvel saw the charred ruins of "Even then it seemed quite the most natural thing in tHe world that it should be Nepeese, and none other." the burned cabin, and a moment later the two graves under the tall spruce. He began to understand as his eyes re- turned slowly to the waiting, listening dog. A great swelling rose in his throat and after a moment or two he said softly, and with an effort, "Boy, I guess you're home." Baree did not hear. With his head up and his nose tilted to the blue sky he was sniffing the air. What was it that came to him with the perfumes of the forests and the green meadow? Why was it that he trembled now as he stood there? What was there in the air? Carvel, asked himselM, and his questing eyes tried to answer the questions. Nothing. There was death here--death and desertion, that was all. And then, all at once, there came from Baree a strange cry--almost a human cry--and he was gone like the wind. Carvel had thrown off his pack. He dropped his rifle beside it now, and followed Baree. He ran swiftly, straight across the open, into the dwarf balsams and into a grass-grown path that had once been worn by the travel of feet. He ran until he was panting for breath, and then stopped and listened. He could hear nothing of Baree. But that old worn trail led on under the forest trees, and he follow. ed it. Close to the deep, dark pool in which he and the Willow had disport- ed so often Baree, too, had stopped. He could hear the rippling of water, mnd his eyes shone with a gleaming fire as he quested for Nepeese. He expected to see here there, her slim white body shimmering in some dark shadow of overhanging spruce, or gleaming suddenly white as snow in one of the warm plashes of sunlight. His eyes sought out their old hiding places; the great split rock on the oth- er side, the shelving banks under which they used to dive like otter, the spruce boughs that dipped down to the surface, and in the midst of which the Willow loved to screen her naked body while he searched the pool for hen And at last the realization was borne upon him that she was not there that he bad still farther to go. He went on to the tepee. The little open space in which they had built their hidden wigwam was flooded with sunshine that came through a break in the forest to the west. The tepee 'was still there. Rt did not sccm very much changed to Bare, rising from the ground in front of the tepee was what had come to him faintly on the still air--the smoke of a small fire. Over the fire was bending a person, Olivér Curwad i and it did not strike Baree as amaz- | ing, or at all unexpected, that this per- son should have two great shining braids down her back. He whined, and at his whine the Person grew a little rigid, and turned slowly. Even then it seemed quite the most natural thing in the world that it | should be Nepeese, and none other. He | had lost her yesterday. Today he had found her. And in answer to his whine there came a sobbing cry straight out of the soul of the Willow. Carvel found them there a few min- utes later, the dog's head hugged close up against the Willow's breast, and the Willow was crying--crying like a little child, her face hidden from him on Baree's neck. He did not interrupt them. but waited; 'and as he waited something in the sobbing voice and the stillness of the forest seemed to whisper to him a bit of the story of the burned cabin and the two -graves, and the meaning of the Call that had come to Baree from out of the south CHAPTER XXXI. That night there was a new campfire in the open. It was not a small fire, built with the fear that other eyes might see it, but a fire that sent its flames high. In the glow of it stood Carvel. And as the fire had changed from. that-small smouldering heap ov- er which the Willow had cooked her dinner, so Carvel, the officially dead outlaw, had changed. The beard was] gone from his face; he had thrown off | his caribou-skin coat; his sleeves were | rolled upto the elbows, and there was a wild flush in his face that was not altogether the tanning of wind and sun and storm, and a glow in his eyes that had not been there for five years, perhaps never before. His eyes were on Nepeese. "Tomorrow or the next day I am going to Lac Bain," he said, a hard and bitter note back of the gentle worship in his voice. "I will not come back until I have--killed him." The Willow looked straight into the fire. For-a time there was a sil- ence broken only by the crackling of the flames, and in that silence Carvel's fingers weaved in aud out of the silken strands of the Willow's hair. His thoughts flashed back. What a chance he had missed that day on Bush Mec- Taggart's trap-line--if he had only known! His jaws set hard as he saw in the red-hot heart of the fire the mental pictures of the day when the Factor from Lac Bain had killed Pierrot. She had told him the whole story. Her flight. Her plunge to what she had thought was certain death in the icy torrent of the chasm. Her miraculous escape from the waters--and how she was discovered, nearly dead. by Tuboa, the toothless old Cree whom Pierrot out of pity had allowed to hunt in part of his domain. He felt within himself the tragedy and the horror of the one terrible hour'in which the sun had gone out of the world for the Willow, and in the flames he could see faithful old Tuboa as he called on his last strength to bear Nepeese over the long miles that lay between the chasm and his cabin; he caught shifting visions of the weeks that followed in that cabin, weeks of hunger agd of intense cold in which the Willow's life hung by a single thread. And at last, when the snows were deepest, Tuboa had died. Carvel's fingers clenched in the strands of the Willow's braid. A deep breath rose out of his chest, and he said, staring deep into the fire, "To-morrow I will go to Lac Bain." (To be continued) SMALL PANEL DECORATION If the walls are divided into panels, and there are two narrow panels on either side of a large one, as over a fireplace or at a doorway, the small panels may be decorated as shown here. 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