Jacob's RoomShe winked quickly. Accidents were awful things. She winked again. The mast was straight; the waves were regular; the lighthouse was upright; but the blot had spread. " nothing for it but to leave," she read. "Well, if Jacob doesn't want to play" (the shadow of Archer, her eldest son, fell across the notepaper and looked blue on the sand, and she felt chillyit was the third of September already), "if Jacob doesn't want to play"what a horrid blot! It