Tobias struggled with the latch of the lamp room door, and finally got inside the tower. He hurried to the stairway and descended to the warm and odorous kitchen where Heppy was heaping the brown and flaky fishcakes upon the platter on the stove-shelf. "What is the matter with you to-night, Tobias Bassett?" she demanded. "You’re as uneasy as a hen on a hot brick. Where are you going now?" as he started for the outer door. "There’s somebody out in this storm," he told her. "I heard ’em shouting." "For love’s sake! In a boat?" "No. From the land side. Somebody on the road." Tobias banged the door behind him. In clear weather there was not much to be seen from the entrance of the lighthouse in this landward direction, save sand. Now about all Tobias could see was snow. "Ahoy! Aho-o-oy the light!" The cry was shattered against the singing gale. But the lightkeeper made out the direction from which it came and started down the road toward Lower Trillion. In the other direction were the summer residences of certain wealthy citizens on the Clay Head. While beyond lay Clinkerport at the head of the bay, the entrance to which the lighthouse guarded. Tobias announced his coming by a hearty hail. He saw a muffled glow in the snow pall ahead. Then the outlines of a low-hung motor car that was quite evidently stalled in a drift. "Hey!" he demanded. "What you doing in that contraption out in this storm? Ain’t you got no sense?" "Now don’t _you_ begin!" rejoined a complaining voice, and a rather stalky figure appeared in the half-shrouded radiance of the headlights. "I’ve been told already what I am and where I get off. It isn’t my fault that blame thing got stalled." "It is your fault that we came this way from Harbor Bar," interposed a very sweet but at present very sharp voice. ("Jest like cranberry sarse," Tobias secretly commented.) "We should not have taken the shore road." "You didn’t say so when we started," declared the tall young man, indignantly. "I was not driving the car. You insisted on doing that," chimed the tart voice instantly. "One would think you expected me to be omniscient." "Well, you appear to be omnipresent—you are always in the way," and a much shorter figure, muffled in furs, and quite evidently that of a young woman, appeared beside the taller individual from the stalled car. "And I cal’late, Heppy," Tobias explained, relating the event later to his sister, "that them two socdologers of words would have brought on a fist fight if I hadn’t stepped into the breach, so to say, _and_ the smaller of them castaways hadn’t been a gal! Some day when I get time I’m going to look up ’omniscient’ and ’omnipresent’ in the dictionary. They sound like mighty mean words."