“Yes, we understand that and it’s all right, thank you, Dora,” spoke up the doctor authoritatively.
Then he and his daughter settled down deep into the big chair to enjoy the news from Washington.
CHAPTER XXIII
PROLONGING THE AGONY
A small dark figure, like a queer sort of bug, could be seen at the top of the grating that supported Beacon Light. That was Nicky. The girls beneath were calling to him, Captain Quiller was shouting, but beyond meaningless little words dropped down through the spiral frame, no answer came to their entreaties.
They wanted him to come down. Captain Quiller insisted that the light was all right and that he should come down.
But he didn’t. “In a minute,” they heard him promise. “I just want to see what’s the matter with this.”
“With what?” demanded the captain. He was standing on that sore foot defiantly, and his cane didn’t do much good either. “Ain’t nothin’ the matter with that light,” he called up to the speck at the eye of the beacon. “Come on down here! Can’t sleep up there, can you? Though he’d like to, first rate,” the captain told the two impatient girls. “He’s just daffy about that light.”
But after repeated appeals, and a broad hint from Cara that she had good news for him, Nicky paid some attention.
“Good news?” he repeated. “What is it? Can’t you fetch it up?”
“Fetch it up?” Babs repeated this. “Why should we?”