the tiny kitchen, with its shining brasses and its
white deal floor, Winifred exclaimed at the exquisite neatness of the
housekeeping.

"It is a man's, you see," Flint commented with pride. "No doubt we
shall drive you from the domestic field yet."

"I should think the position of light-house-keeper would suit you
excellently," Winifred replied, oblivious of the slant at her sex.
"Your desire for solitude would surely find its full satisfaction
here."

"There might be much worse occupations certainly," Flint began; but he
saw that Winifred's attention had been diverted by the keeper, who had
already begun to mount the stairs, talking, as he moved, with a
fluency which denoted a long restrained flow of sociability. Winifred
was glad to be saved the trouble of replying, for the unceasing
climbing put her out of breath, and she felt that she might have been
dizzy, but for the railing under her left hand.

At last they arrived in the little room with its giant reflectors of
silvered copper, and its great lamp set on a circular table. Outside,
ran a narrow balcony with iron railing. Winifred stepped out onto the
ledge, clinging nervously to Jimmy, who professed a great desire to
sit on the railing. The wind here was so strong that it gave one a
feeling that the building was swaying, though it stood firm as a cliff
of granite.

Flint leaned over the railing. "See!" he said, "there is a great white
gull which has beaten itself to death against the light, and fallen
there, close to that fringy line of mottled seaweed on the beach."

"Don't!" exclaimed Winifred, turning pale, and leaning further back
against the light-house wall.

Flint saw in an instant that she was feeling dizzy, but thought it
best for her to ignore the fact.

"Come," he said, "we must be going down now, unless Dr. Cricket is to
lose his game entirely. You go first, Jim! I will come next."

Jimmy started down, whooping as he went, for the pleasure of hearing
his voice echo and re-echo from the bare walls.

Flint glanced somewhat anxiously at Winifred. He saw her put her foot
upon the first stair and then draw back. At the same instant he caught
the cause of her terror. Her bandaged wrist prevented her grasping the
balustrade, or getting any better support than the smooth wall to
which to cling.

"Put your hand on my shoulder, and count the steps aloud as you go."
He spoke like one who does not question obedience; and, somewhat to
her own surpri