“Oh, several hours,” the stranger replied. “There’s no cause for alarm if you just keep watch of the tide.”
Penny thanked the stranger and walked on toward the lighthouse. The structure rose to a height of seventy-five feet above the beach and was reached by means of a narrow little iron stairway.
No one was about the premises as Penny approached. However, as she started up the iron steps, a door far above her head opened. A burly, stout man whose face was browned by wind and sun, peered down at her.
“You can’t come up here!” he shouted. “No visitors are allowed!”
“Oh,” Penny murmured, retreating a step. “I didn’t know. I only wanted to see the tower.”
“No visitors,” the keeper of the light repeated. “War regulations.”
The rule seemed a reasonable one, but after such a long hike, Penny was disappointed. Walking back to the main section of the beach, she looked about for her father. He had disappeared.
“I’ll bet a cookie he’s at the Crystal Inn!” she thought indignantly.
But Penny could not find her father there nor at any other place along the water front. After an hour’s search she decided that he must have returned to camp. Returning there, she approached the tent, noticing that the flap was closed, though not buttoned as she had left it.
“Dad must be here,” she thought.