There were many pleasant thoughts in Sheila’s heart just now; nor did she allow the secret of her past to leave its acid scars upon her soul.  She was the life and joy of the old house on the Head; she was the center of amusement when she went into company at the church or elsewhere.  She managed, too, to be that marvelous specimen of beautiful womankind who can attract other girls as well as men.

For one thing, the girl played no favorites.  She treated them all alike.  None of the young men of Big Wreck Cove could honestly crow because Ida May Bostwick had showed him any special favor.

And none of them suspected that Tunis Latham had the inside track with the girl from the city.  At least, this was unsuspected by all before the occasion of the “harvest-home festival”—­that important affair held yearly by the ladies’ aid of the Big Wreck Cove church.

For the first time in more than a year, Cap’n Ira and Prudence ventured to town in the evening.  Church socials, in the past, and while Cap’n Ira was so much at sea, had been Prudence Ball’s chief relaxation.  She was naturally of a social disposition, and the simple pleasure of being with and of a party of other matrons of the church was almost the height of Prudence’s mundane desire.

When Cap’n Ira heard her express the wish to go to the harvest-home festival he took an extra pinch of snuff.

“I swan!” he said.  “If we take that Queen of Sheby out at night, she’ll near have a conniption.  She’ll think the world’s come to an end.  She ain’t been out o’ her stable at night since Hector was a pup—­and Hector is a big dog now!  How can you think of such a thing, Prudence?”

“Queenie won’t mind, I guess,” said his wife calmly.  “I shouldn’t be surprised if you was saying one word for her and a good many more’n one for yourself, Ira.”

However, they went to the harvest-home festival.  It was bound to be a very gay and enjoyable occasion, and Queenie did not stumble more than three times going down the hill into the port.

“That old critter would be the death of us, if she could do it without being the death of herself, too,” fumed Cap’n Ira.

There were half a dozen young men almost fighting for the privilege of taking Queenie around to the sheds and blanketing her, the winner hopeful of a special smile and word from Sheila.

The decorated church was well filled when the trio from Wreckers’ Head entered, and most delicious odors rose from the basement, where the tables were laid.

Sheila was immediately surrounded by her own little coterie of young people and was enjoying herself quietly when a newcomer, whose appearance created some little surprise at the door, approached the group of which the girl was the center.

“Why, here’s Orion Latham!” exclaimed one girl.  “I didn’t know the Seamew was in.”

“We just made it by the skin of our teeth,” Orion said, making it a point to shake hands with Sheila.  “How are you, Miss Bostwick?  I never did see such a Jonah of an old tub as that dratted schooner!  I thought she never would get back this trip.”