That was a very long speech indeed for Aunt Lucretia to make.  She put her arms about Tunis Latham’s neck and said all the rest she might have said in a loving kiss.

Driving as the storm was, there remained something that took the skipper of the Seamew out into the welter of it.  With the wet snow plastering his back he climbed out of the saucerlike valley to the rear premises of the Ball place.  He even gave a look in at the barn to make sure that all the chores were done for the night.  The gray ghost of the Queen of Sheba’s face was raised a moment from her manger while she looked at him inquiringly, blowing softly through her nostrils the while.

“You’re all right, anyway,” said Tunis, chuckling as he closed the barn door.  “You’ve got a friend for life.”

He went on to the kitchen door.  Inside he could hear the bustle of Sheila’s swift feet, the croon of Prudence’s gentle voice, and then a mighty “A-choon!” as Cap’n Ira relieved his pent-up feelings.

“Don’t let them fish cakes burn, gal,” the old man drawled.  “If Tunis ain’t here mighty quick he can eat his cold.  Oh!  Here he is—­right to the nick o’ time, like the second mate’s watch comin’ to breakfast.”

Tunis had shaken his peacoat free of the clinging snow and now stamped his sea-boots on the rug.  He smiled broadly and confidently at Sheila and she returned it so happily that her whole face seemed to irradiate sunshine.  Prudence nudged Cap’n Ira’s elbow.

“Ain’t it a pretty sight, Ira?” she whispered.

“She looks ’most as sweet as you did, Prue, when I took you to the altar,” sighed the old man windily.  “I swan!  Women is most alike, young an’ old.  All but that dratted Ida May Bostwick. She was a caution to cats.”

“Now you hush, Ira.  She’s our own rel’tive and we ought not to speak ill of her.”

“Ha!” blew Cap’n Ira, reminding Tunis of the old mare when she snorted.  “Ha!  Maybe she is.  But even so I want none o’ her.  An’ I told Elder Minnett so.  I got kinder of an idee that the elder won’t be so brash, puttin’ his spoon into other folks’ porridge again.”

“Hush, Ira!  Don’t be irreverent.  Remember he’s a minister.”

“So he is.  So he is,” concluded Cap’n Ira.  “They say charity covers a multitude of sins; and I expect the call to be a preacher covers a multitude of sinners.”  He chuckled mellowly again.  “But sometimes I’ve thought that the ‘call’ some of our preachers hear ‘stead o’ being the voice of God is some other noise they mistook for it.  Well, there, Prudence, I won’t say no more.  But you must allow that Elder Minnett’s buttin’ in, as the boys say, come pretty nigh bustin’ everything to flinders.

“Come, Tunis.  Do sit down or that gal won’t be able to dish up supper, and I’m as hungry as a wolf.  Pull up your chair, Prudence.  Ain’t this livin’, I want to know?” He shuddered luxuriously at the howl and rattle of the wind without.  “Now, folks:  ’For that with which we are about to be blessed make us truly thankful.  Amen.’  Put your teeth in one o’ them biscuit, Tunis.  I want to recommend ’em to you.  Ain’t none better on this endurin’ Cape—­no, sir.  We got the best cook on the Head.  If you are ever lucky enough to get one ha’f as good, Tunis—­”