lover of the sea in all
its changing phases. Often instead of playing games on land with her
mates she would beguile some old fisherman to take her out in his
fishing dory, and eagerly help him make his hauls, and by the time she
was fourteen years old she was an expert in handling the oars, and as
tireless a swimmer as could be found in all Newport.

And now her father had been appointed keeper of the Lime Rock Light,
the "Ida Lewis" light, as it came to be known in later years, and the
girl's home was no longer to be on _terra firma_, but on the
rock-ribbed island where the lighthouse stood, whose beacon-light cast
strong, steady rays across Baker's Bay, to the greater Narragansett
Bay, of which it is only an arm.

The flock of girls in their boats rowed hard and fast across the
silvery water with a steady plash, plash of the dipping oars in the
calm bay, and ever Ida Lewis was in the lead, heading toward the
island with a straight course, and keeping a close watch for the rocks
of which the Bay was full. She would turn her head, toss back her
hair, and call out in ringing tones to the flock, "'Ware, shoals!" and
obediently they would turn as she turned, follow where she led. Soon
her boat ran its sharp bow against the rocky ledge to which they had
been steering, and with quick confidence Ida sprang ashore, seized the
painter, and drew her boat to a mooring, while the rest of the fleet
came to the landing and one after another the girls jumped ashore.
Then up the rocky path to the lighthouse filed Ida and her friends,
eager to inspect the queer place which was to be Ida's home.

"How perfectly lovely! How odd! Oh, how I wish I were going to live
here! Ida, you are lucky--But just think how the wind will howl around
the house in a storm! Will your father ever let you tend the light, do
you think?"

The questions were not answered, and those who asked them did not
expect a response. They all chattered on at the same time, while they
inspected every nook and corner of their friend's new home. It was a
small place, that house on Lime Rock, built to house the
light-keeper's family, but one which could well answer to the name of
"home" to one as fond of the sea as was Ida Lewis. On the narrow
promontory, with the waves of the quiet bay lapping its rocky shores,
the two-story white house stood like a sea-gull poised for flight. A
living-room, with wide windows opening out on the bay it had, and
simple bedrooms where on