THE WINDOWfinished it to-night, if they did go to the Lighthouseafter all, it was to be given to the Lighthouse keeperfor his little boy, who was threatened with a tuber-culous hip; together with a pile of old magazines, andsome tobaccco, indeed whatever she could find lyingabout, not really wanted, but only littering the room,to give those poor fellows, who must be bored todeath sitting all day with nothing to do but polishthe lamp and trim the wick and rake about on theirscrap of garden, something to amuse them. For howwould you like to be shut up for a whole month ata time, and possibly more in stormy weather, upona rock the size of a tennis lawn? she would ask; andto have no letters or newspapers, and to see nobody;if you were married, not to see your wife, not toknow how your children were — if they were ill, ifthey had fallen down and broken their legs or arms;to see the same dreary waves breaking week afterweek, and then a dreadful storm coming, and thewindows covered with spray, and birds dashed againstthe lamp, and the whole place rocking, and not beable to put your nose out of doors for fear of beingswept into the sea? How would you like that? sheasked, addressing herself particularly to her daugh-ters. So she added, rather differently, one must takethem whatever comforts one can.‘It’s due west,’ said the atheist Tansley, holdinghis bony fingers spread so that the wind blew throughthem, for he was sharing Mr. Ramsay’s evening walkup and down, up and down the terrace. That is tosay, the wind blew from the worst possible directionfor landing at the Lighthouse. Yes, he did say disagree-able things, Mrs. Ramsay admitted; it was odious9
