unis, a glance of considerable admiration.

"It takes you to do it, Tunis. I couldn't have brought home a nicer
lookin' gal myself. I swan!"

"Now, you hesh your foolin', Ira," cried his wife, while the younger
man's blush admitted unmistakably his feelings. "Don't you mind him,
Ida May. Come into the house, now, and you, too, Tunis. We'll have
supper in a jiffy."

"No," said the captain of the _Seamew_. "I must be getting on. Aunt
Lucretia will be expecting me, for, of course, she saw the schooner
heading in for the cove. Good night, Ida May." He shook hands with
her quietly. "I know you will be happy here, with your own folks."

The girl looked deep into the young man's eyes; nor did she free her
hand from his clasp immediately. At one side stood the two old
people, both smiling, and not a little knowingly and slyly at each
other, while the captain of the _Seamew_ and the girl bade each
other good night. Cap'n Ira whispered in his wife's ear:

"Look at that now! How long d'you think we'll be able to keep Ida
May with us? I cal'late we'd better build our boundary fence a great
sight higher and shut him out o' walkin' across this farm."

But Prudence only struck at him with a gently admonitory hand. Tunis
and Ida May had taken down the remainder of the wash and the former
carried it into the house before he started on for his own home.

The girl, walking behind the old couple into the homelike kitchen,
sensed the warming hospitality of the place. It was just as though
she had known all this before, as though, in some past time, she had
called the Ball homestead _home_.

"Lay off your hat and coat, Ida May, on the sitting-room lounge,"
said Prudence. "We'll have supper before I show you upstairs. Me and
Ira sleep down here, but there's a nice, big room up there I've
fixed up for you."

"Before you were sure I could come?" the girl asked in some wonder.

"She's got faith enough to move mountains, Prudence has," broke in
Cap'n Ira proudly. "At least, I cal'late she's got enough to move
this here Wreckers' Head if she set out to." And he chuckled.

"But you believed Ida May would come, too. You said so, Ira," cried
his wife.

"I swan! I had to say it to keep up with you," he returned.
"Otherwise you'd have sailed fathoms ahead of me. However, if you
hadn't come, gal, neither of us could have well said to the other
them bitterest of all human words: 'I told you so!'"

"How could you suppose I would not come?"