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 compared to a time like—well, the night the Thomas J. went on the Reef."

"I know what you can do, Fogger!" Garth announced. "You can be on the settle, and I'll sit on your lap, and you ean tell Joan about the wreck of the Thomas J. Make it a real story, like the one about Rangor Head."

"I'm afraid I couldn't do that," Jim said. "I'm not such a gallant young lad as Roger, nor is this such a weird place as Radulgo. I can tell only what really happened."

"Please do!" Joan begged. "I've often meant to ask you about the wreck. How jolly this is, with the firelight and all!"

She sat down upon the floor and gazed at the leaping sparks and glowing embers, while Elspeth took out her knitting and established herself beside Jim on the settle. Garth decided that his father's lap was not, after all, the most advantageous place. He brought the cushion from a chair and lay down, elbows upon it, beside Joan, his chin in his hands and the colored driftwood flames shining into his eyes. The rosy glow of the fire flickered about the room and wavered upon the low, white ceiling, glinting here and there on burnished brass and the smooth polish of old wood.