"Oh, you’re to get half and me half. What you going to do with your three thousand, Heppy?" "Just what you will do with yours, Tobias Bassett!" she exclaimed. "Put it into the Clinkerport Bank to our joint account. We got ’most two thousand there now. We’ll have eight thousand against the time when we can’t work no more and will need it." "Oh, sugar!" muttered her brother. "I might ha’ knowed it. Your idea of a pleasure spree always was going to the bank to make another ten dollar deposit." "Now, Tobias," she said with gravity, "don’t you let no foolish, spendthrift idees get a holt on your mind. I won’t hear to ’em. You never would have had a penny in the bank if it hadn’t been for me." "That’s the truth," sighed Tobias. "You got me so that every time a quarter comes my way the dove of peace on it screams for mercy. Yessir! I’m getting to be a reg’lar miser, ’long o’ you, Heppy." The lightkeeper and his sister fully understood and appreciated each other’s virtues. That Tobias was generous to a fault and that Hephzibah’s saving disposition had long since warded him from financial wreck, they both were well aware. Tobias publicly scorned, however, to acknowledge this latter fact. "I certainly shall hate to see you turn the key on every dollar of that money, Heppy," he complained, preparing to mount to the lamp to see that all was right up there. "We ain’t never cut a dash in our lives. I certainly should like to make a splurge for once." "You’d fly right in the face of Providence if I wasn’t here to hold you back," declared his sister. "Experience can’t teach you nothing." "Oh, sugar! I know I’ve always spent my paycheck like ducks and drakes," he chuckled. "Wal, leave it to you, Heppy, and Uncle Jethro’s money won’t get much exercise, for a fact." When he came down from the lamp he announced a change in the weather. The wind began to whine around the tall staff and rain squalls drifted across the sullenly heaving sea outside the Twin Rocks. The night dissolved into a windy and tumultuous morning, and the fishing fleet remained inside the capes. Tobias went aloft after breakfast to clean and fill the lamp before taking his usual morning nap. To the eastward rode a dun-colored object that at first could scarcely be made out, even by his keen eyes. "It’s a craft of some kind—sure is!" he muttered. "But whether it’s turned bottom up, or is one o’ them there motor-boats, decked over for’ard and without no mast—Hi! There’s a mast of a kind, and with a pennant to it, or something. Mebbe ’tis the feller’s shirt." That the motor craft was in some trouble the lightkeeper was confident. The heavy seas buffeted it without mercy. He saw that the master of the craft could not keep steerageway upon it.