npleasant news when engaged in swallowing her meals than at any
other time.

"Where is Tommy?" he added, looking round at the quantity of chips which
littered the floor.

"Where is 'e?" repeated Mrs Potter, in a tone of indignation. "Where
would you expect 'im to be but after mischief? 'E's at the mod'l, of
course; always at it; never at hanythingk else a'most."

"No!" exclaimed John, in affected surprise. "Wasn't he at school
to-day?"

"O yes, of course 'e was at school."

"An' did he git his lessons for to-morrow after comin' 'ome?"

"I suppose 'e did."

"Ah then, he does something else _sometimes_, eh?"

Mrs Potter's reply was interrupted by Tommy himself emerging from a
closet, which formed his workshop and in which he was at that time busy
with a model of Winstanley's lighthouse, executed from the drawings and
descriptions by his father, improved by his own brilliant fancy.

Four years make a marked difference on a boy in the early stage of life.
He was now nearly ten, and well grown, both intellectually and
physically, for his age.

"Well, Tommy, how d'ee git on wi' the light-'ouse?" asked his father.

"Pretty well, faither: but it seems to me that Mr Winstanley had too
many stickin'-out poles, an' curlywurleys, an' things o' that sort about
it."

"Listen to that now," said Mrs Potter, with a look of contempt, as they
all sat down to supper: "what ever does the boy mean by curlywurleys?"

"You've seed Isaac Dorkin's nose, mother?"

"Of course I 'ave: what then?"

"Well, it goes in at the top and out at the middle and curls up at the
end: that's curlywurley," said Tommy, with a grin, as he helped himself
to a large potato.

"The boy is right, Martha," said John, laughing, "for a lighthouse
should be as round an' as smooth as a ship's bow, with nothin' for wind
or water to lay hold on. But now I'll tell 'ee of this noo situation."

Both mother and son looked inquiringly up, but did not speak, being too
busy and hungry.

"Well, this is how it came about. I met Isaac Dorkin on my way to the
docks this mornin', an' he says to me, says he, `John, I met a gentleman
who is makin' very partikler inquiries about the Eddystone Rock: his
name he says is Rudyerd, and he wants to hire a lot o' first-rate men to
begin a new--'"

"A noo light'ouse!" exclaimed Mrs Potter, with sudden energy, bringing
her fist down on the table with such force that the dishes rattled
again. "I know'd it: I did. I've