e they?"

And when Connie said that they had he looked so grave that the girls were
frightened.

"Why, Uncle Tom, what's the matter?" asked Connie fearfully.

"Matter enough," said Uncle Tom, turning to scowl up at the overcast sky.
"It's as much as those youngsters' lives are worth for them to set out
to-day. Why, there's a storm on the way," and he fixed his eyes gravely
on the girls, "such as this old Maine coast hasn't seen for years. Why,
every captain who can read the signs is going to make straight for the
nearest port, or if he is too far away to make port before the storm
breaks, he's going to get down on his knees and pray the good Lord to
make his old ship staunch enough to stand the test. It will be upon us by
night." His eyes sought the wild dreary waste of water and he spoke as
though to himself. "Lord, how I dread to-night!"

"But, Uncle Tom, what can we do about the boys?" Connie shook his arm
fiercely. "Why, if we have the kind of storm you say they may be drowned!
Oh, can't we do something?"

Uncle Tom's eyes came back from the horizon and he shook his head slowly.

"I don't know that there's much we can do--now," he said. "If they have
any sense they'll put in to port before the storm breaks. That is if they
stick close in to shore."

"They said they would," Billie put in eagerly. "Oh, I hope they do!"

Uncle Tom nodded absently, for his mind seemed to be upon other things.

"Then they ought to be all right," he said, adding, while the lines
deepened about his mouth: "But Heaven help the ships that can't put into
shore to-night."

He turned slowly and strode away from them toward the lighthouse with
Bruce still following worshipfully after him. He had forgotten they were
there.

"Poor Uncle Tom!" said Connie, as they went slowly on toward the
bungalow. "He always gets so queer when there's a storm along the coast.
I guess it makes him think of--her."

* * * * *

It was night, and the storm had burst in all its fury. The four girls and
Connie's mother had gathered in the little front sitting room on the
second floor.

Mr. Danvers had started a few minutes before to press the button that
would flood the room with light, but Billie had begged him not to.

"I want to see the light in the tower," she had pleaded, adding softly:
"Somehow I'm not quite so afraid for the ships out there when I see the
light. Oh, listen to that wind!"

"I don't se