“deadening” on the last spur and she saw Lonesome Cove and the roof of her little home peacefully asleep in the same sun that shone on the valley over the mountain. Colour came to her face and her heart beat faster. At the foot of the spur the road had been widened and showed signs of heavy hauling. There was sawdust in the mouth of the creek and, from coal-dust, the water was black. The ring of axes and the shouts of ox-drivers came from the mountain side. Up the creek above her father's cabin three or four houses were being built of fresh boards, and there in front of her was a new store. To a fence one side of it two horses were hitched and on one horse was a side-saddle. Before the door stood the Red Fox and Uncle Billy, the miller, who peered at her for a moment through his big spectacles and gave her a wondering shout of welcome that brought her cousin Loretta to the door, where she stopped a moment, anchored with surprise. Over her shoulder peered her cousin Dave, and June saw his face darken while she looked. “Why, Honey,” said the old miller, “have ye really come home agin?” While Loretta simply said: “My Lord!” and came out and stood with her hands on her hips looking at June. “Why, ye ain't a bit changed! I knowed ye wasn't goin' to put on no airs like Dave thar said “--she turned on Dave, who, with a surly shrug, wheeled and went back into the store. Uncle Billy was going home. “Come down to see us right away now,” he called back. “Ole Hon's might nigh crazy to git her eyes on ye.” “All right, Uncle Billy,” said June, “early termorrer.” The Red Fox did not open his lips, but his pale eyes searched the girl from head to foot. “Git down, June,” said Loretta, “and I'll walk up to the house with ye.” June slid down, Devil Judd started the old horse, and as the two girls, with their arms about each other's waists, followed, the wolfish side of the Red Fox's face lifted in an ironical snarl. Bub was standing at the gate, and when he saw his father riding home alone, his wistful eyes filled and his cry of disappointment brought the step-mother to the door. “Whar's June?” he cried, and June heard him, and loosening herself from Loretta, she ran round the horse and had Bub in her arms. Then she looked up into the eyes of her step-mother. The old woman's face looked kind--so kind that for the first time in her life June did what her father could never get her to do: she called her “Mammy,” and then she gave that old woman the surprise of her life--she kissed her. Right away she must see everything, and Bub, in ecstasy, wanted to pilot her around to see the new calf and the new pigs and the new chickens, but dumbly June looked to a miracle that had come to pass to the left of the cabin--a flower-garden, the like of which she had seen only in her dreams. XVII Twice her lips opened soundlessly and, dazed, she could only point dumbly. The old step-mother laughed: