mes in eight days. Cheaper. And
very nourishing.

The shutters banged, sand crashed against the panes, rain leaked in a
steady drip down one corner of the room, and the sea smashed
unceasingly. But Father played "My Gal's a High-born Lady" and "Any
Little Girl That's a Nice Little Girl Is the Right Little Girl for Me,"
and other silly, cheerful melodies which even the hand-organs had
forgotten.

There was a sense of glaring mounting light through the window which
gave on the cliff.

"I wonder what that is," Mother shuddered. "It's like a big fire. I
declare it seems as though the whole world was coming to an end
to-night." She turned from the window and shivered over the embers, in
her golden-oak rocker which Father had filled with cushions.

He kissed her boyishly and trotted over to the window. The fact that
they were alone against the elements, with no apartment-house full of
people to share the tumultuous night, weakened her, but delighted him.
He cried out, with a feeling of dramatic joy.

There was a fire below, on the beach, where there should be nothing but
sand and the terror of the storm. The outer edge of the cliff was
outlined by the light.

"It's a wreck!" he whooped. "It's the life-savers! Mother, I'm going
down. Maybe there's something I can do. I want to do something again!
Maybe some poor devil coming ashore in the breeches buoy--help him
ashore-- Don't suppose I could row--"

He darted at the closet and yanked out his ineffectual city raincoat and
rubbers, and the dreary wreck of what had once been his pert new
vacation traveling-cap.

"No, no, don't, please don't!" Mother begged. "You couldn't do anything,
and I don't dast to go out--and I'm afraid to stay here alone."

But Father was putting on his raincoat. "I'll just run down and see--be
right back."

"Don't go a step farther than the top of the cliff," she wailed.

He hesitated. He wanted, more than anything else in the world, to be in
the midst of heroic effort. The gods had set the stage for epic action
that night, and his spirit was big with desire for bigness. It was very
hard to promise to put goloshes upon his winged feet.

But Mother held out her hands. "Oh, I need you, Seth. You'll stay near
me, won't you?"

There may have been lordly deeds in the surf that night--men gambling
their lives to save strangers and aliens. One deed there certainly
was--though the movies, which are our modern minstrelsy, will never
portray it.