'Sometimes I look for ever so long--a whole hour,' said Celestina,
rather taken aback by Biddy's fitfulness. 'But perhaps we'd better run
about a little to keep warm. It isn't like as if it was summer.'

'I'm not cold and I don't like running,' said Biddy. 'Let's just walk,
Celestina, and you tell me things. Oh, look at the sun--he's getting
redder and redder--and look at the lighthouse, it's shining red too. Is
it a fire burning inside, do you think, Celestina?'

'No, it's the sun's redness shining on the glass. The top room is all
windows--I've been there once,' she said. 'It's a good way to walk
though it looks so near, and there's some water too between. Father
took us once in a boat, mother and me, when the tide was in, and we
had dinner there; we took it with us, and there was a nice old man
father knew. And when the tide went out we came over a bit of water till
we got to the stones, in the boat, and then the boatman took it back,
and we walked home right along the stones--you see where I mean?'

She pointed to the rocky ridge which I told you ran out from the shore
to the lighthouse. Bridget listened with the greatest interest.

'How nice,' she said. 'Couldn't you have walked the whole way? I'm sure
there isn't any water between now--_I_ can't see it. It must have gone
away.'

'Oh no, it hasn't,' said Celestina. 'It's always there: it couldn't go
away. You couldn't ever get to the lighthouse without a boat; once one
of the men had to come in a hurry, and father said he had to wade to
over his waist.'