Tobias Bassett kept strictly away from the living rooms for most of the forenoon. He knew himself to be in bad odor with the black-eyed girl, who, swathed in one of Miss Heppy's voluminous aprons, briskly went about the homely tasks.
Tobias came down about noon for some tools. He no longer looked sheepish, nor did he grin when he beheld Lorna's very serious face.
"I give it as my opinion that this is the worst summer storm we ever had," the lightkeeper said. "I'm a-getting anxious, I am."
"Is there anything in sight, Tobias?" she asked him fearfully.
"Meaning any sail? I should hope not! I don't want to see no craft inshore with the wind in this quarter—nossir! I'm in trouble 'nough, as it is. I never see the beat on it. Just when Zeke is away, too."
"What has happened?" she asked.
"I'm 'fraid one o' the plates o' glass up there will blow in. The copper flange holding it is weakened—I dunno but it's giving way. Why! if that should happen we couldn't mebbe light the lamp to-night. She'd blow out or explode."
"Oh, Tobias!"
"I've got to try to fix it," he said, finding the hammer and cold chisel in the cupboard. "But it ain't no one-man job."
"Can I help you?" she asked.