"Oh, isn't this nice!" cried Bart, as he entered the kitchen. The sense of peaceful, safe seclusion, the warm fire in the kitchen stove, above all, the protecting friends near him, made the place seem like--Bart whispered to himself what he thought it must be like--"heaven!"
When he thought of the Nub he shuddered.
What a happy boy it was that tumbled into the bed where the keeper told him he could sleep that night! Dave added to his happiness by an acknowledgment made. "Bartie," he whispered.
"What, Davie?"
"I owe you a good deal for stopping me at the dinner at the Nub."
"Stopping you?"
"When I didn't think, and lifted that glass, you know."
"Oh, but you wouldn't have touched it."
"If you had not been there, Bart, I don't know what might have happened."
"Oh, I am sure you would have come out all right," shouted confidently this diminutive mentor. And yet as he was falling asleep that night, hushed by the sound of the waves musically breaking against the walls of the lighthouse, a thought came to him and steeped his soul in comfort, that as Dave might have yielded, he--just Little Mew--might have been of some use, and so not for nought had God sent into the world this puny little fellow.