it be queer to see them together. they be as thick as thieves," said nat to his wife with a broad smile, as he sat down to table for the dish of tea he always looked for before he went up to see that all was in order with the lamp before the dusk fell. "as for me, i can't get a word out of him no how; but the little chap, he makes him talk as i never knew he could. i can't hear what they say. bless you! if i so much as look that way, jim shuts up his mouth like as if no power on earth would open it, and pat he goes as red as a rose, as if he was half ashamed to be caught chattering; but so soon as my back's turned they're at it again. and glad i be that the poor chap has found somebody to love and to care for him; for he's had a hard life of it, if all we hear of him be true."

"that's just what i think, nat," answered eileen. "i'm glad the boy has found the way to his heart. sure it's a bad thing for any creature to be shut up against his fellow-men as he was. may be it's the blessed saints as have sent the child to him to show him a better way."

eileen still spoke sometimes about the "blessed saints," as she had been used to do in her childhood, when she lived amongst those who used even to pray to them; but her husband would smile and shake his head when he heard the words, and to-day he answered slowly and thoughtfully—

"nay, my lass; it's no doing of the saints above—not that i'm one to say they are not blessed, nor that they may not look down upon us poor creatures here below and think of us as their brethren; but it's the lord as rules the world for us, and gives each one of us a work to do for him somehow; and if our boy has been sent as a messenger to this poor chap—as like enough he has—it's the lord's own doing, that's what it is; and we won't say a word to discourage him, not though it may seem as though he'd got a tough job before him if he's got to win back jim."

the ready tears started to eileen's eyes. she came over and put her hand on nat's broad shoulder, bending to kiss him, though he was not a man who as a rule cared to receive caresses from even his own wife or child.

"it does me good to hear you talk like that. sure and it's the children who are often the lord's best messengers. i heard a holy man say once as the beautiful angels were god's messengers, and it does seem sometimes as though he used the children too—may be because they are most like the angels themselves—bless their innocent little hearts!"

but pat never thought about being an angel. he only felt like a very happy little boy, whose life had suddenly become exceedingly interesting, and who had so much to do every day that the days never seemed quite long enough for all he wanted to put into them. there was so much to learn about the reef and the lighthouse, about the big lamp and its bigger reflectors, about the wonderful fog-horn which he had as yet never heard at work, and about the apparatus which kept all these wonders moving, that his head fairly swam sometimes in the effort to take in all that he saw. he had one of those inquiring minds which is not content just to see what is done, but must know the why and the wherefore of it all. nat was content to know that certain results would follow certain actions on his part, and he followed his instructions, with intelligence and diligence, but without fully comprehending the mechanism of which he was the overseer. jim was the man who more fully understood this. he could put to rights any small matter which had got out of gear, without any appeal to the mainland. he had been so long on the lone rock that he was familiar with every detail of the lighthouse apparatus, and pat would watch him with awe as he climbed about the great lamp, and cleaned the wheels and the levers with the air of one who knew exactly what was the work of each. and then he and the child knew the secret about the creatures being alive, when everybody else thought it merely a machine. jim always spoke of it as "her," and pat learned to do the same, and to wonder sometimes why she never awoke by day, but was always so quiet and still when the sun was shining, though when the dusk fell upon the land she would wake up and shine, and go round and round with that strange monotonous noise he had learned to heed as little as the ceaseless plash of the waves. that secret knowledge shared by both made another link between the man and the child. and then, if jim could only find words, he could answer pat's questions about the working of the creature far better than the child's father could do. pat grew greatly impressed by the depth and profundity of his knowledge, and came secretly to the conclusion that jim was a marvel of learning and skill. he was greatly flattered that he was allowed to be on terms of such intimacy with him, and grew to think his gruff speech and silent habits a grace, and a sign of learning and wisdom.

it was with great satisfaction one day that pat heard that he and jim were to be left in charge of the lighthouse for a whole day, whilst his father and mother went ashore to lay in stores against the coming autumn and winter. the summer was waning now. before very long the fierce equinoctial gales might be any time expected, and nat was anxious to get ashore before this present calm broke up, and thoroughly victual the rock against the winter. eileen, too, had many things to think of, both for herself and the child, before the winter should set in. they had been in rather low water, owing to pat's long illness, just before they came here, and had not any supply of warm clothing with them. now that nat had been drawing his pay all these months, there was plenty of money to purchase what was needed. only she felt she must go ashore herself for the purpose; but she thought the expedition would be too fatiguing for the boy, and pat was more than content to be left behind with jim, to take care of the home and the lighthouse in his father's short absence.

it was a beautiful hot september morning when the boat put off from the rock, and pat stood holding jim's hand and waving his little cap to his parents, as nat hoisted the sail to the light breeze, and the boat began to cut its way through the sparkling water in the direction of the shore.

"the top of the morning to ye!" shouted the child, who loved to air his little bits of irish phrases when he was in high spirits. "sure it's a lovely day for a sail. come back again safe and sound, and we'll be waiting for you here. good-bye, mother dear. take care of yourself, mavourneen. it's meself as will be thinking of you every hour of the day till the boat brings you back safe again!"

the mother waved her hand, and pat stood looking till his eyes were too dazzled to see clearly any longer, and then he drew jim back towards the house. his small face was full of importance and gravity. he plainly felt himself his father's deputy for the day, and the sense of his position and the burden of his responsibilities weighed upon him rather heavily.

"we shall have to watch her very carefully all day, jim," he remarked. "because you see she may know that father has gone, and try to take advantage. we had a dog who used to do that once. mother always said he took advantage when father had gone off for the day. it wouldn't do for things to go wrong before he came back. you and i will have to be very careful. shall we go up and look how she seems now?—and whether she is all asleep and quiet?"

jim grinned in his queer way, but assented at once.

"all right, little master, we'll go. i've got to clean her up. but i think she'll be quiet like all day. she's a wonderful one for sleeping so long as the sun shines—that she is!"

"yes, rather like a bat, isn't it, jim? i read a tale once in a book about a big bat with a funny name. i think it was called a vampire. i know it was very big indeed, and rather fierce. perhaps she's a kind of vampire; only you've made her tame, and she doesn't hurt people now. did she ever hurt you, jim? you don't seem afraid of her a bit."

"nay, she's never hurt i," answered jim. "she don't hurt them as know how to humour her. she did break the arm of one man once; but he was a rare fool and deserved what he got. you've got to be a bit careful of her when she's going; but if you mind her well she won't hurt nobody."

they were mounting the stairs now, and pat seated himself to watch jim at his mysterious duties about the great she, as he had come to call her in his own mind. he had seen everything done a dozen times before; but the interest and fascination was always new. to-day he was permitted to help jim a little by holding his leathers and rubbers from time to time; and he felt that he should soon be able to climb about and clean himself, so familiar did he grow with all his companion's evolutions.

it took the best part of the morning to do all that was needed to make things ship-shape for night, and pat presently went downstairs to get ready the simple mid-day meal his mother had prepared for them. he thought that it would be pleasant to eat it down on the rocks, for the tide was out, and as it was a spring tide there was more rock than usual uncovered. he carried everything carefully down, and presently jim joined him, and they sat down together. pat thought it was quite the nicest dinner he had ever tasted, down in the cool shadow of the rocks, with the waves washing up and down only a few feet away. he got jim to light his pipe by-and-by, and to tell him some of his sailor stories (jim, he noticed, always talked better when he was smoking), and after an hour had passed like that, jim suggested to him that it was his turn to tell a tale.

now pat was very willing to take his turn, but he had not any big store of stories, and such as his mother had told him had all been related to jim before—all but the bible stories, of which, to be sure, there were plenty left to tell. pat sat nursing his knees and thinking. at last he looked up into his companion's face and asked reflectively—

"i don't think i've ever told you about jesus, have i? we've not got to him yet in reading out of the book. but there's lots and lots of stories about him—real pretty ones, too. i could tell you some of them, if you liked. i don't think you know about jesus yet; do you, jim?"

the man had slowly taken his pipe from his lips whilst the child was speaking, and now sat staring out over the sea with a look on his face that somehow seemed new to pat, and which made him all of a sudden look different; the little boy could not have said how or why.

"i used to hear tell of him when i was little," came the reply, very slowly spoken. "my mother used to tell me of him when i was a little chap no bigger than you. but i went off to sea when i couldn't have been much bigger, and since then there's been nobody to tell me of him 'cept the gentleman in the prison; and i didn't take friendly to what he said, though i dare say he meant it all kind enough."

"well, i'll tell you as well as i can," said pat, settling himself to his task with some relish. "perhaps you'll remember some of the things i forget, and mother could tell us it all afterwards, if we like. but i can remember a good lot—all the things that matter most. so i'll begin."

and pat did begin, in rather a roundabout fashion, it is true, and with a good many repetitions and harkings back to things he had forgotten, but still with a zest and good-will that atoned for many defects in style, and with the perfect faith in the truth of what he was saying, that gave a reality to the narrative which nothing else could have done. when it came to the story of the crucifixion and the garden of gethsemane, pat found, rather to his surprise, that the tears came into his eyes, and that once or twice he could hardly get on with the tale. he remembered that his mother had sometimes cried in telling it to him; but he had never quite understood why. he began to feel as though he did understand now. when he was telling it himself to somebody who was listening, like jim, it all seemed so much more real. he wanted jim to understand it all—just as his mother wanted him to understand; and that made him enter into the meaning of the story as perhaps he had hardly ever done before. he was glad when it came to the joyful part, about how the lord rose again, and showed himself to his doubting and mourning followers. jim never spoke the whole time, but sat with his face turned out towards the sea, never moving, and looking sometimes as though he scarcely heard what the child said; yet pat was convinced that he was listening to every word. it was only when the story had been finished for several minutes that he slowly turned his head round, and pat saw with surprise that there was a moisture in his eyes that looked exactly as though it were tears.

"that's the story as my mother used to tell it me," he said, in a husky voice. "do you think as it's all true, little master?"

"why, of course it's true!" answered pat, with perfect confidence. "almost everybody in the world believes it—everybody except the heathen!" (and pat quite believed this was so.) "some folks forget, as you did, jim, and somedon't care as they should. but it's every word true. he did die."

"yes, but why? why did he die if he needn't have done? why did he let them nail him on the cross like that, if he could have had as many angels as he liked to come and take him away out of their hands?"

"oh, because, you know, he came to die for us," answered pat, wrinkling up his forehead, and trying to remember how his mother had answered his questions on this very point. "he was the lamb of god who came to take away the sins of the world—your sins, jim, and mine, and everybody's. god could not have forgiven everything if it hadn't been for jesus, because he is so just as well as so kind. somebody had to be punished—somebody had to die for us. we couldn't have died for ourselves—not like that, you know, because we are all wicked. it had to be somebody good—like the lamb in the passover, without blemish—and that could only be jesus. i don't know if i can explain it right; but it's something like that. there was nobody else, and god loved us so, he sent his own son. oh, jim, it was good of him! i don't think we love him, or jesus, half enough!"

jim passed his horny hand over his eyes. he didn't speak for some time.

"it doesn't hardly seem as though he could have done it for us—for you and me," continued the child, filled with his own thought. "but he did, i know he did; mother says so, and it's all in the bible, for she can find the places.

"i mean to try and think about it oftener, for it doesn't seem as though we ought ever to forget it. mother says it ought to make us try and do things for him; but i don't know what i can do, except to love him, and try to be good. perhaps till i'm bigger he'll let that count."

"and when you're bigger what will you do, little master?" asked jim.

pat sat and pondered the question a good while with his chin in his hand.

"i don't quite know," he answered slowly. "i mightn't ever have the chance; but i think i know what i should like to do if i could."

"and what is that?" asked jim, with sudden and very evident interest.

"i think," answered the child, slowly and reverently, "that i should like best to lay down my life for somebody else—like as he laid it down for us. some people have done that, you know—brave men who have died doing their duty—to try and save other people from death. i think god must love them for it. i think jesus must smile at them, for he did just the same for us; and if he knows that they do it because they want to be like him and do something for him, i think he would be pleased. people don't always die because they are willing to; sometimes they are saved too. but jesus would know that they were willing to die for him. i think, when i grow to be a man, if i might choose, i should like best to serve him like that."

whilst pat was speaking, jim's eyes had been fixed earnestly upon his face. now they roved back again over the sea, and suddenly the man gave a great start. he rose to his feet, and stood looking over the sea, shading his eyes with his hand.

"what is it?" asked pat, coming and standing beside him, and imitating his gesture. "can you see anything, jim? i can't seem to see nothing."

"that's just it," answered the man. "we can't see half as far as we did an hour ago. seems like as if there was a thick sea-fog coming on. i was thinking only this morning what a time we had been without one. that's a fog-bank and no mistake, and drifting right down upon us, too. i must go and see to the horn. we must start that if it comes over us; else your father might never find his way back—to say nothing of the ships running aground here. you'll hear her voice, and no mistake, little master, before another hour is over; and a mighty queer voice it is, i can tell you. you'll not forget it easy, once you've heard it!"

pat was immensely interested. he followed jim up into the upper room, and went out upon the gallery to watch the great fog-bank creep slowly down upon them. the sun was so bright and clear that it seemed impossible that that slowly moving white mass should ever obscure it; but soon a few little light vapour wreaths drifted up against the rocks, and very quickly the sun looked dull and red, and little by little the sky and the sea seemed all to be blotted out, and pat could not tell which way he was looking, nor where the land lay. he seemed to be up alone in some high place, floating in mid-air, in a world of vapour. he would have been frightened if he had not heard jim moving about close at hand.

and then, all in a moment, a most fearful and extraordinary noise just above his head made pat clap his hands to his ears, as though his head would come off with the vibration if he did not. he knew what it was. she had been awakened from sleep, and was lifting up that great voice of hers, as he had heard she could do when it was wanted; and in great amazement, pat ran indoors to see how she did it. he felt that such a wonderful creature as this had surely never lived before!