When Cora, leading by the hand dripping Dick Haley, met his father, the keeper of the light, she exclaimed impulsively:
“I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before!”
It was rather a strange greeting under the circumstances, considering that Cora had just helped little Dick from the water. But the lighthouse keeper did not seem to mind it.
“I’m sure I can’t remember it, miss,” he made answer, “and I’m counted on as having a pretty good memory. However, the loss is all mine, I do assure you. Now what mischief has my fat boy been getting into?”
“It was not his fault, I’m sure,” spoke Eline.
“Indeed not,” echoed Cora. “Your daughter’s boat upset and we went out to help her. There she is!”
Cora pointed to a dripping figure, in a red bathing suit climbing up on a little pier that led to the beacon. Following the disclosure made to Cora, as Rosalie swam beside the boat, they had reached the shore. Mr. Haley had been off getting some supplies for the lighthouse and so had not witnessed the accident. The first intimation he had of it was when he saw his dripping son being led up by Cora and Eline.
“Upset; eh?” voiced the keeper of the light. “Well, it has happened before, and it’ll happen again. I’m glad it was no worse, and I’m very much obliged to you, miss. But I don’t ever remember seeing you before–either of you,” and he glanced at Eline.
“Oh, I’m sure you never saw me!” she laughed “I’m from Chicago.”
“Chicago!” he cried, quickly. “Why, I’m from there originally. I used to be a pilot on the lakes. But that’s years ago. Me and my sister came from there. But Margaret–well, what’s the use of talking of it?” and the worried frown on his face deepened, as he went down to meet his daughter, telling Dick to go up in the living quarters of the light to get on dry clothes.