There had
been an appeal in her countenance that called Tunis more and more as
he dreamed about her.
And standing there on Scollay Square dreaming about her had done the
young captain of the _Seamew_ positively no good! She did not come
out again, although he stood there for fully an hour. At the end of
that time he strolled up an alley and discovered that there was a
side door to the restaurant for the use of employees, and he judged
that the girl, seeing him lingering in front, had gone out by this
way. It made him flush to his ears when he thought of it. Of course,
he had been rude.
Marching up the winding road by the Ball homestead, Tunis Latham
revisioned this adventure--and the violet-eyed girl. Well, he
probably would never see her again. And in any case she was not the
sort of girl that he would ever take home to Aunt Lucretia. He was
headed toward home now, to the old brown house in the saucer-like
valley some distance beyond Cap'n Ira's.
As he came within hail of the old homestead in which the Balls had
been born and had died--if they were not lost at sea--for many
generations, the captain of the _Seamew_ became suddenly aware that
something was particularly wrong there.
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