"Look, mamma! Look at me, mamma! I'm sculling!" shouted Rupert, his bright face all in a glow of importance and pleasure, "I can scull as well as Jim now, and I'll take you out sometimes like papa does, when I've got time. But I like going with Pat and Jim best. It's like as if we were living together in the lighthouse and had just gone out for a row." "Yes, darling," answered the mother, smiling and waving her hand. "Take good care of Pat and Jim, because they took good care of you once. How are you feeling to-day, Jim? and how is your mother, Pat?" "Nicely, thank you, my lady," they both answered in a breath, and the lady waved her hand once more to the party before turning back towards the house again. "She knows you are safe with me," remarked Rupert, slightly transposing a phrase he frequently heard from his parents' lips, and then the boat was headed towards the Lone Rock, and Rupert played the game all the time that they were living there again. He and Jim and Pat had been across once with Nat since their coming to live at the Lodge, and Rupert never forgot that it had once been his temporary home, and made many plans about buying it for his very own when he was a man, and going there to live with Pat. Whenever he had little friends of his own to tea at home, he would always assert his superiority over them by telling how he had once lived in a lighthouse, which certainly none of the others had done. And the story of his life there never failed to arouse a great interest and wonder. The child's father was waiting to take him when the boat neared shore again, and he spoke kindly to Jim and Pat before leading his little son home. As the latter put away the boat safe in the boathouse, and walked slowly towards the pretty lodge together, they saw the light from the Lone Rock streaming out over the darkening water, increasing every moment in brightness. Pat looked lovingly at it. "I used to wonder as I lay in bed how she would look to people a long way off. I didn't know she was quite so bright. I think they must be taking good care of her, Jim." "Yes, I think so, she's bright enough of nights. I can just see her as I lie awake in bed--through that gap in the trees. It makes me think about the Lamp to our feet and the Light to our path." "Oh, yes," answered Pat quickly and eagerly, "that's what mother said too, Jim, and she said something else as well; I wonder if I could remember it. I think it was about you. I know it made me think of you directly she said it." "About me?" questioned Jim absently, his eyes still on the light.