At first Paul was too wet and cold and too much frightened to care about
anything. But when he had been warmed and his clothes dried he began to
look around. He was in a cheerful room with the lighthouse keeper and
his wife. His dear daddy was there, too. And there was another person
in the room. This was a little boy with a very pale face. He sat in a
wheeled chair. His poor back was so weak he could not walk. But his face
was bright and smiling. He held out his hand to Paul. "I'm Dick," he
said, "I came to the lighthouse in a storm too, and I've been here ever
since."

"Oh, please tell me about it," said Paul.

"It was eight years ago," began Dick, "when Father Moore found me in a
boat. There had been a shipwreck and I must have been in it. I don't
remember anything about it. I was only two years old and my back had
been hurt. But Father Moore saved me and he and Mother Moore took me to
be their little boy."

"Yes, he's our little boy," said the lighthouse keeper, who was "Father
Moore." "We live here together and keep the light."

"Don't you get lonely?" Paul asked Dick.

"Oh, no," said Dick, "I have a great many things to play with. See!" And
he pointed to a big table near his chair. On it were many small toys.
There was a farm with fences, houses, horses, cows, and chickens. There
were people too--a man, a woman, and two children. Everything was made
of clay. There was a tall clay lighthouse and around it were clay ships
and boats.