Come on, and we'll eat." "I have eaten, thank you." "You have?
Alone ?" "Yes.

That, too," with emphasis, "is a part of my business." The lightkeeper stared, grunted, and then went out of the room.

He ate a lonely meal, not of the lobster--he kept that for another occasion--but one made up of cold scraps from the pantry.

He wandered uneasily about the premises, quieted Job's wails for the time by a gift of eatable odds and ends tossed into the boathouse, smoked, tried to read, and, when it grew dusk, lit the lamps in the towers.

At last he walked to the closed door of his helper's room and rapped.
"Well ?" was the ungracious response.
"It's me, Atkins," he announced, hesitatingly.