"What splendid toys," said Paul. "Did Santa Claus bring them?"

"I made them myself," said Dick proudly. "My back and legs aren't much
good but my fingers do whatever I want them to. Whenever I am lonely I
think of something to make and then my fingers make it. I think," he
went on laughing, "I'll make you and your father after you have gone."

Paul hated to leave the lighthouse and brave little Dick. But he and
Daddy had to go as soon as the storm was over. They knew Mrs. Ray would
be greatly worried about them.

"I'll write to you," said Paul to Dick, "and I'll send you some of my
books with pictures in them. Then you can make more things."

How glad Paul's mother was when her little boy and his daddy reached
home. That night she came in to tuck him snugly in bed.

"Is my little boy sorry this is his last night at Fairport?" she asked.

"No, Mother," said Paul. "I hate to leave Captain John, and the cave,
and the beach, and the ocean; but I want to get home. I want to see Bob
and Betty and Peggy and Dot. I want them to help me do something for
Dick."

"What do you want to do, dear?" asked Mrs. Ray.

"I want to send him something to keep his fingers busy, perhaps a tool
chest and some wood," said Paul. "And, O Mother, do you think we could
do something to make his back strong?"