"You sound mighty funny, Cap'n
Ira. Hasn't Ida May been doing all and sundry for you for months? Is
she sick?"
"I--I don't mean _that_ gal," quavered Cap'n Ira. "I mean the real
Ida May."
He half tumbled off the ladder into Tunis Latham's arms. He clung to
the young man tightly, and, although it was dark in the barn, Tunis
could have sworn that there were tears on the old man's cheeks.
"Don't you know we've got the right Ida May with us at
last--Prudence's niece that has come here to visit for a while and
play lady? Yes, you was fooled; we was bamboozled. That--that other
gal, Tunis, is a real bad one, I ain't no doubt. She pulled the wool
over your eyes and made a monkey of most everybody, it seems. She--"
"Who are you talking about?" cried Tunis, in his alarm almost
shaking the old man.
"I'm telling you the girl you brought down here, thinking she was
Ida May Bostwick, turned out to be somebody else. I don't know who.
Anyway, she ain't no relation of Prudence or me. I ain't blaming you
none, boy; she told us we musn't blame you, for you didn't know the
truth about her, either."
"Cap'n Ira, where is she?" demanded the younger man hoarsely.
"She ain't here. She's gone.
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