T0 THE LIGHTHOUSEdoor, standing looking up into the sky. Andrewhad his net and basket. That meant he was goingto catch crabs and things. That meant he wouldclimb out on to a rock; he would be cut off. Orcoming back single file on one of those littlepaths above the cliff one of them might slip. Hewould roll and then crash. It was growing quitedark.

But she did not let her voice change in theleast as she finished the story, and added, shuttingthe book, and speaking the last words as if shehad made them up herself, looking into _]'ames’seyes: “ And there they are living still at this verytime."

‘ And that’s the end," she said, and she saw inhis eyes, as the interest of the story died away inthem, something else take its place; somethingwondering, pale, like the reflection of a light,which at once made him gaze and marvel. Turning, she looked across the bay, and there, sureenough, coming regularly across the waves firsttwo quick strokes and then one long steady stroke,was the light of the Lighthouse. It had been lit.

In a moment he would ask her, “ Are wegoing to the Lighthouse? " And she would haveto say, “ No: not to-morrow; your father saysnot." Happily, Mildred came in to fetch them,and the bustle distracted them. But he kept