How Elder Minnett appeared in the sick room or in the house of sorrow, she did not know.  She could not very well imagine his being tender at any time with the sinner at whom he thundered from the pulpit.  Secretly she trembled at the old clergyman’s approach.

“Well, Elder!” was the warm greeting of Prudence at the front door when the rattling automobile came to a wheezing halt before the gate.  “Do tell!  Ira said he see you coming up the road, and I was determined you shouldn’t drive by without speaking.  Do come in.”

“I propose to, Sister Ball,” was the grim-lipped reply.

He came into the house and took the proffered chair in the sitting room.  They spoke of the weather, of the tide, and of the clam harvest.  The farm crops back of Big Wreck Cove did not interest Cap’n Ira.

“Well,” said the elder finally, clearing his throat, “I’ve come up here on an errand you can possibly guess, Cap’n Ira and Sister Ball.”

“Maybe we can and maybe we can’t,” observed the captain with a countenance quite as wooden as the elder himself displayed.

“I come on behalf of that young woman who was here to see you the other day.”

“It’s my opinion you’d done better to have gone to the insane asylum folks about her,” rejoined Cap’n Ira.

“Now, Ira!” said Prudence softly.

“Seeing it as you do, Cap’n Ira,” the elder remarked quite equably, “I conclude that you might think that.  But you formed your judgment in the heat of—­well, not anger, of course—­but without sufficient reflection.”

“Humph!” grunted Cap’n Ira noncommittally.

“I have talked with that young woman on two occasions,” said the elder.

“With what young woman?” interrupted Cap’n Ira.

“With the girl staying at the Widow Pauling’s.  The girl who claims to be your niece.”

“You’d better talk with the other young woman,” said Cap’n Ira sternly.  “Ida May!  Just you come in here and sit down.  You are as much interested as we be, I guess. This is Ida May Bostwick, Elder Minnett,” he added, as Sheila entered.

“Yes, yes.  I have had the pleasure,” said the elder, bowing gravely without offering to shake hands.  He turned abruptly to Prudence.  “You are quite convinced in your own mind, Sister Ball, that the young woman at the Pauling’s is not your niece?”

“Why, Elder Minnett,” returned Prudence, “how can she be?  Ida May is Sarah Honey’s only child, and Sarah was only distantly related to me.  There never was another girl in the family—­not like that one that came here the other day, for sure!” And the old woman shook her head emphatically.

“That girl you got down there at the port, Elder, is crazy—­crazy as a loon,” put in Cap’n Ira harshly.

“I am not so sure of that,” the clergyman said shortly.

“I swan!  Beg your pardon, Elder.  No offense.  But you don’t mean to say that she seems sane and sensible to you?”