But he must tell Aunt Lucretia nothing but the truth.  He did this by beginning at the coming of the real Ida May Bostwick to the Ball house that afternoon and her claim to Sheila’s place with the family.  As he told the story, Aunt Lucretia gazed upon him so fixedly, so intently, that the captain of the Seamew was disturbed.  He could not understand her expression.

Perhaps he told the story haltingly of how Ida May had been turned out and he had taken her back to the port and housed her with Mrs. Pauling.  He made few comments, however; he left Aunt Lucretia to draw her own conclusions.  It was not until he had quite finished that she spoke again.

“That crazy girl, is she—­”

“I don’t know that she’s crazy,” said Tunis gruffly.

“It would seem so.  Does she look like Ida May?”

Tunis started.  The question seemed to probe into a matter that he had not before considered.  But he shook his head negatively.

“Nothing like her,” he said.  “Reddish hair.  Brown eyes—­or kind of brown.  When she’s maddest there are green lights in ’em.  Not nice eyes at all.”

Aunt Lucretia nodded and said no more upon that point.  What her question had dealt with in her own mind, Tunis could not guess.  She watched his face, now pale and sadly drawn.  Then she placed a firm hand upon his arm to arouse his attention.

“Tunis!  This—­this girl at Cap’n Ira’s is something to you?”

“My God!  Aunt ’Cretia, she’s everything to me,” he groaned, his reticence breaking down.

“Is she a good girl, Tunis?”

“As good as gold.  On my honor, there was never a nobler or better girl.  I—­I love her!” The words burst from him now in a great gush of emotion.  These Lathams, when they did break up, often ran over.  “I can’t tell you the hold she has on me.  If I lose her through this or any other cause, I’m done for!

“She thinks she isn’t good enough for me.  She is afraid of this girl who claims her place.  She fears that I am going to be looked down on if I have anything more to do with her.  And I tell you, if she was not the girl I know her to be, I would still cling to her.  I must have her.  I tell you, I must!”

Tears came to his eyes.  His voice, hoarse and broken, carried to the woman’s heart the knowledge that the one and overpowering passion of the man’s life was rampant within him.  What or whoever the girl at the Ball homestead might be, Tunis Latham was bound to her by ties which could not be broken.

She did the thing most generous; quite in accordance with her unselfish disposition.  She stepped nearer to her nephew and put her arms about his neck.  She kissed him.  She gave no further evidence of doubt or disapproval.  Indeed, when he left her to go to his room, he was assured that, however the world might look upon him, Aunt Lucretia was his supporter.

The girl in the Ball house saw the glimmer of his lamp that night for a very few minutes.  There was a day’s work before him, and Tunis Latham, like other hard-working men, must have his sleep.