The ethics of the situation had not really impressed her at first.  The desire to get away from her unfortunate environment, from the city itself, and to go where nobody knew her history, not even her name, was the main thought at that time in the girl’s mind.  Tunis Latham’s confident assurances that she would be accepted without question by Cap’n Ball and Prudence caused her to put aside all fear of consequences at the moment.  It was a desperate stroke, but she had been in desperate need, and she had carried the matter through boldly.

Now that she seemed so securely established in the Ball household and was accepted by all the community of Big Wreck Cove as the real Ida May, it seemed foolish to give way to anxiety.  Discovery of the imposture was remote.

Yet, as she had hinted to Tunis, she had an undercurrent of feeling—­a more-than-faint apprehension—­that all was not right.  Something was lurking in the shadows of the future which menaced their peace and security.

She was ever mindful of the fact that Tunis had gone sponsor for her identity as Ida May.  Should her imposture be revealed, her first duty would be to protect him.  How could she do this?  What tale could she concoct to make it seem that he was as much duped as were Cap’n Ball and Prudence?

This seemed impossible.  She saw no way out.  He had met the real Ida May Bostwick, and then had deliberately introduced Sheila Macklin as the girl he had been sent for!  If the truth were revealed, what explanation could be offered?

Had she allowed her mind to dwell upon this phase of the affair she would surely have revealed to those about her, unobservant as they might be, that she had a secret cause for worry.  She must drive it into the back of her mind—­ignore it utterly.

And this she did on this beautiful Sabbath morning.  When Tunis came up to the Head to accompany the Balls to church—­Aunt Lucretia did not attend service on this day—­a very close observer would have seen nothing in the girl’s look or manner to suggest that so keen an anxiety had touched her.

This should have been Sheila’s happy day—­and it was.  For the first time, the young captain of the Seamew linked his interest with her in a deliberate public appearance.  Although she feared in secret the result of that appearance at church with Tunis Latham, it nevertheless thrilled her.

He harnessed Queenie after giving that surprised animal such a curry-combing and polishing as she had not suffered in many a day.  Sheila rode with Prudence on the rear seat of the carryall.

“I’m berthed on the for’ard deck along o’ you, Tunis,” said the old man, hoisting himself with difficulty into the front seat.  “If the afterguard is all ready, I be.  Trip the anchor, boy, and set sail!”

As they passed down through Portygee Town the denizens of that part of Big Wreck Cove were streaming to their own place of worship.  It was a saint’s day, and the brown people—­both men and women, ringed of ears and garbed in the very gayest colors—­gave way with smiles and bows for the jogging old mare and the rumbling carryall.  Some of the Seamew’s crew were overtaken, and they swept off their hats to Prudence and the supposed Ida May, grinning up at Tunis with more than usual friendliness.