“Of course you can,” answered Mr. Dent.
“What does you want a light for in the daytime?” asked Trouble.
“We don’t, little man,” answered Mr. Dent, with a laugh. “The light is lighted only at night, so the sailors, far out at sea, can tell by its flash where they are. But during the day I must clean the lamp and polish the glass so it will be clear and bright. Come, I’ll show you.”
The Curlytops and Trouble mounted up a little winding stair in the tower of the lighthouse until they reached the upper room. This was completely of glass—glass all around it, but not ordinary window glass. The glass of the lighthouse tower was specially made lenses, so arranged as to send straight beams of light for many miles out to sea.
In the middle of the tower room, on a big iron stand, stood a great lantern—a lantern that held many quarts of oil. It was the largest lamp the children had ever seen.
“I wouldn’t want to clean that lamp chimney!” said Janet, as she looked at it. “I don’t believe I could even lift it.”
“No, I don’t believe you could,” said Mr. Dent. “And if you should drop it and break it, that would be very sad.”
“Look at the big wicks!” exclaimed Ted, pointing to them.
“Yes, and they must be trimmed several times during the night to make sure the light is always bright,” said the keeper. “It would not do to have the light grow dim or go out.”
“Are all lighthouses like this?” Janet wanted to know.