It looked on the outside just like an ordinary letter, with a check in it for salary, perhaps, or a notice of oil that had been shipped for the Light, but in fact it held a bomb that exploded when the envelope was opened and filled the whole house with surprise and excitement.
The “Gov’ment” said, and said it very handsomely, that Malcolm McLean’s work as Lightkeeper on Friar’s Island had long been known and appreciated and that, considering his fine record and his length of service, it had been decided to appoint him to the care of the Santa Barbara Light, which was on the mainland, had a good house with plenty of ground for cultivation, was within easy reach of the town, with its churches and schools, and commanded a better salary.
It seemed and it was a wonderful appointment, but it was entirely unexpected and required a great deal of consideration. Ronald declared that he had never heard such a letter since he lived in this country, and his father asked him, with a twinkle in his eye, whether it was the praise of the Lightkeeper, or the thought of leaving the island that so astonished him.
“’Course I knew you were the best Lightkeeper, ever,” explained Ronald, carefully; “I knew that when I was a little boy, but I ’spected we’d live on this island forever’n ever!”
“And I thought so, too,” Lesley chimed in eagerly.
“No wonder they thought so, Malcolm,” smiled Mrs. McLean, turning to her husband, “when they were both born here and have hardly ever been away. I don’t know but that I thought so, myself, and it will be hard to leave the old place, if we decide to go. Still,” hesitatingly, “there’s the church and the schools for the children.”
“Well,” said McLean, “we’ve talked it over till we’ve nearly worn it out, but that letter to the Lighthouse Commissioner has got to be written to-night one way or the other”—and here he brought his hand down on the table with a bang—“for it’s got to be sent by the tender to-morrow.”
“Oh, is the Vigilant coming to-morrow? Oh, goody, goody!” cried Lesley, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.
“Let’s-ery go-ery to-ery bed-ery earl-ery!” whispered Ronnie, drawing Lesley into a corner.
“What-ery for-ery?” inquired Lesley, with a look of astonishment.