What was that noise? Pat sat up in bed to listen; and as he did so, he began to wonder where he was, and what had happened; for he had an impression that there was something strange in the way the light fell on the wall, and in his mind there was a feeling that some great event had taken place which he could not at that moment recall; and then, what _was_ that noise in the living-room? It was for all the world like the sound of a little child laughing and prattling; but how had any child come to Lone Rock in the night?... And then all in a moment, like a flash, it came back to Pat--all the events of the night of the storm, the dismasted ship, the little boy lashed to the spar, Jim's heroic attempt to save the child--everything that had occurred up to the time he had let his mother put him to bed in broad daylight. It was daylight again now. He knew by the place the sun had got to on the wall that it was not only day, but afternoon. He thought for a moment that it was the afternoon of the day on which he had gone to bed; but he soon found out that it was the day following that one. He had slept for more than twenty-four hours, as little folks will sometimes do when they have been through great fatigue and excitement; and now he waked up as fresh as a lark, and full of eager curiosity about the new inmate of the lighthouse. He slipped out of bed, and into his clothes as fast as possible, and then stepped softly across the floor, and peeped into the next room. He wanted to see the little stranger before he was himself seen. He wanted to have a good look at him, and in this he was not disappointed.