“Oh, Ira!” gasped his wife.  “I wouldn’t scurce dare have her stay.  She—­she’s out of her head.  She might do something.”

“I’ll do something fast enough!” cried Ida May, stamping her foot.  “I’ll do something to that hussy!”

“You hear her, Ira?” murmured Prudence, trying to draw Sheila away from the enraged girl.

“Threatening damage never broke no bones yet,” said the captain calmly.

“I’ll do her some damage,” declared Ida May bitterly.  “If none of you won’t listen to me, I’ll find somebody that will.  I’ll—­”

She halted suddenly in her wild and angry speech.  Her face changed as if by magic.  The flush died in it and the expression of her sparkling eyes became subdued.  A simpering look overspread Ida May Bostwick’s countenance that warned the other girl, at least, that another person had entered the house.

Before Sheila could turn to look toward the kitchen door, Ida May cried: 

“Oh, Cousin Tunis!  If you ain’t my cousin exactly, I guess you are pretty near.  And ain’t I glad you’ve come!  Do you know what this awful girl is saying—­what she is doing here?  And these old fools won’t believe me!  I never heard of such a thing.  Just you tell them who I am, and I guess they’ll make her pack up and get out in a hurry.”

In the doorway stood the captain of the Seamew.  The two old people welcomed his appearance with a satisfaction that could not be mistaken.

“I swan, Tunis, you come at a mighty handy time,” declared Cap’n Ira.

“Oh, Tunis!  Take that girl away,” cried Prudence faintly, pointing at Ida May.

The most difficult thing Sheila Macklin had ever done in all her life was what she did now.  To act and speak a deliberate falsehood before Tunis Latham!

She disengaged herself from Prudence, and before the simpering Ida May could speak again Sheila ran to him.  In her face was, for the moment, all the fear and horror of the situation which she felt.  It was a warning to him, and he was acute enough to understand it even before she spoke.

“Oh, Tunis!  This girl must be beside herself.  She says her name is Ida May Bostwick and that she is Mrs. Ball’s niece.”

Involuntarily Tunis had stretched forth his hands to welcome Sheila.  He drew her closer without giving the Balls any attention whatsoever.  One flashing glance he gave to the girl he held so gently—­a look which was both a promise and a reassurance.  Then he gazed over her head at the smirking Ida May.

“What’s the matter here?” he demanded.

“Matter enough,” said Cap’n Ira, not without marking, however, the attitude of the two young people he and Prudence loved.  He even nudged his wife, who now stood close beside him.  “Matter enough.  That gal there, Tunis, seems to have lost her top-hamper.  Leastways, some of it is mighty loose.”

“Tunis Latham!” gasped the new claimant.  “You know who I am.  Tell that girl—­”