“I don’t know who invented them,” he was saying, as though in answer to a question, “but, whoever it was, he did a good piece of work. There’s too many wrecks as it is, but there’d be a considerable number more if it wasn’t for these ’ere light-’ouses.” “_We_ know who invented them,” whispered Diana to Rachel, as they clattered down the winding stairs of the tower. “Didn’t I tell you that being away from London wouldn’t make any difference?” demanded Rachel, triumphantly. “Sheshà can do _anything_!” “Hush! Here comes Mr. Sheston,” Diana warned her in a low voice. “And I suppose we mustn’t say anything. But _he_ knows that _we_ know he’s Sheshà and Dinocrates—” “And Cleon—and all the rest,” put in Rachel. “Isn’t it wonderful and—and _fun_, you know?” Mr. Sheston, who had lingered in talk with the old sailor upstairs, now joined them, and all the way home the children chattered demurely about the St. Mary’s Bay lighthouse. There was no mention of the Pharos at Alexandria. [Illustration] SEVENTH WONDER [Illustration: ·THE STATUE OF JUPITER·OLYMPUS] Both the children were back again in London a few days later, sadly missing the sea and the freedom of St. Mary’s Bay, of course, but consoled by the knowledge that Mr. Sheston had also come back to town. One afternoon, soon after their return, Rachel met Diana with a radiant face. “Dad and Mother are coming back,” she exclaimed joyfully. “They’re on their way now. And Mother is ever so much better, Dad says. And this day week I shall see them, and go home with them. Isn’t it perfectly lovely?” But there were sudden tears in Diana’s eyes, and, in the midst of her excited talk, Rachel paused. “You’re to come and stay with me, of course,” she declared hastily. “Do you think I should be so glad if I had to say good-bye to you? Mother says she’s writing to _your_ mother to ask her to let you stay for a month. And she will, won’t she?” This announcement had the effect of making Diana’s face almost as joyful as Rachel’s, and during their walk that afternoon their chattering tongues never ceased. There was so much to talk about. When Rachel had described all the delights of her country home, the farm, the garden, the river with its punt, the woods in which they could build huts of branches—the conversation turned, as usual, upon the “adventures” in which Mr. Sheston was concerned. “There’s still another one to come, you know,” Rachel presently declared. “At least I expect so. I’ve been here six weeks now, and every seventh day it’s—_happened_. And there’ll be another seventh day on Wednesday.” “I do wonder what it will be this time, don’t you?” said Diana. “It’s so exciting not knowing where it will begin. Perhaps in the British Museum again. I rather hope it will be there. It’s so jolly to go with ‘him’ just as other children go with grown-up people to the Museum, and yet to know all the time that something frightfully interesting is coming.”