The Light was not of the first order, although it seemed so wonderful to the children and required more attention than the newer and more expensive ones. It was lighted at dusk, filled again at midnight, and put out at dawn, Margaret McLean always taking the last duty and then hurrying down to kindle the kitchen fire, set the porridge on to heat, and milk the goats.
She was a busy wife and mother; so busy that she had the less time to be lonely, for not only did she wash and iron, sew and knit, scrub and cook, milk the goats, feed the hens, and weed the garden, but she gave the children their daily lessons, making these so pleasant that both could already read with ease and had some knowledge of figures, while Lesley could write a very respectable letter to Grandmother in “Bonnie Scotland.”
Mr. and Mrs. McLean knew very well that the children would never be likely to have any playmates, save each other, while they were growing up, for the work on the island was not more than enough for one man, with Stumpy’s assistance, and so there could be no other families in residence. They had done everything they could, therefore, to provide amusement and occupation for them, indoors as well as out. Outdoors was very simple, with Jenny Lind, “Jim Crow,” and a host of young animals as playmates, the beloved Stumpy as story-teller-in-chief and fishing, hunting sea-birds’ eggs, playing on the shore and gathering seaweed and shells as their games of never-ending delight.
Indoors a playroom had been fitted up the previous year, which was a continual source of pleasure and a blessing, too, to Mrs. McLean, who could always feel that her bairns were safe and happy when they were in “Humpty Dumpty Land,” as Lesley had christened it.
It was nothing more or less than the large attic which ran the whole length of the Lighthouse. It was not finished off, but the slanting sides and floor had been stained a pretty green, and numerous shelves had been fitted between the uprights for all the many collections—birds’ eggs, seashells, sea-moss, shining pebbles, bright beads, buttons, and those other treasures dear to children, which would have been greatly in the way downstairs.
“JIM CROW,” A PRIVILEGED VISITOR, ADDING AN OCCASIONAL LOW CROAK TO THE CONVERSATION
In one corner was a sand-bin, with little tins and patty-pans for making cakes, and a dolls’ house occupied another corner where Lesley passed many hours. A rocking-horse, a stable, and a carpenters’ bench were Ronald’s possessions, and several small chairs and tables were among the other furnishings.
Tacked to the ceiling were a few gay Japanese parasols and lanterns, while straw mats, a contribution from Stumpy’s Indian collection, were scattered about the floor. Turkey-red curtains were at the windows, and altogether a more cheerful place could hardly be imagined, especially when both children were talking at once and “Jim Crow,” a privileged visitor, adding an occasional low croak to the conversation.