But
there was no use in spoiling everything by being too precipitate.
The captain of the _Seamew_ might be simple, but he was not the man
to ruin a thing through impulsiveness. That exhibition in the
restaurant was hooked up with wrath.
There had been an undercurrent of thought in his mind ever since he
had met this girl for the second time, and it was quite a natural
thought, comparing her with Ida May Bostwick. If Sheila Macklin had
only been Ida May, after all! It was a ridiculous idea. Not a
feature or betrayed trait of character was like any that the
disappointing great-niece of Prudence Ball possessed. This girl
sitting beside Tunis on the bench and Ida May Bostwick were as
little alike as though they were inhabitants of two different
worlds.
He had begun to imagine, too, how well this girl beside him would
fit into the needs of the old couple living there alone on Wreckers'
Head. It was an idle thought, of course. He had no plan, or scheme,
or definite suggestion in his mind. It was only a wish, a keen
longing for an impossible conjunction of circumstances which would
have enabled him to present Sheila Macklin to Cap'n Ira and Prudence
and say:
"This is the girl you sent me for.
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