made up her mind that she
wouldn't marry."

"Oh, she'll change her mind!" said Cap'n Ira, wagging his head.

"Do you think so? Not so easy. You'd ought to know by this time how
firm Ida May can be."

"The Lord help Tunis then," said Cap'n Ira emphatically. "But his
loss is our gain. Ain't no two ways about that."

Sheila's secret thoughts were not calculated to calm her soul. Her
determination braced her body as well as her mind to go about her
daily tasks with her usual thoroughness, but she could not confront
the old people with even a ghost of her usual smile. So she kept out
of their way as much as possible and communed alone with her bitter
thoughts.

The uncertainty of what Ida May was doing and saying down there in
Big Wreck Cove was not all that agitated Sheila. Her conscience, so
long lulled by her peaceful existence here with the two old people,
was now continually censuring her.

Sin brings its own secret punishment, though the sinner may hide the
effects of the punishment for a long time. But Sheila could not now
conceal the effect of the mental pain and the remorse she suffered.

Of one thing she might be sure. The neighbors had not as yet heard
about the real Ida May or heard her story. Otherwise some of the
women living on the Head would have been in to hear the particulars
from Prudence.

But that afternoon the throaty chug of Elder Minnett's little
car--it had created almost a scandal in Big Wreck Cove when he
bought it--was heard mounting the road to the Head.

"I swan!" commented Cap'n Ira, who sat at the sunny sitting-room
window, for it was a cold day. "Here comes that tin wagon of the
elder's. But he's alone. Get on your best bib and tucker, Prudence,
for there ain't any doubt but what he's headin' in this way."

"Oh, dear me!" fluttered his wife. "I wonder what he's going to say.
Make the tea strong, Ida May. The elder likes it so it'll about bear
up an egg. And open a jar of that quince jam. I wish we had fresh
biscuits, although them you made for dinner were light as feathers."

"I'll make some now. There's a hot oven," replied the girl.

"No, no," interposed Cap'n Ira firmly. "I want you should sit in
here with us and hear all the elder's got to say."

"Perhaps, Uncle Ira, he will want to talk to you and Aunt Prue
privately."

"There won't be no private talk about you, Ida May," snorted the
captain, his keen eyes sparkling. "Not much! If he's got anything to
say to your aunt