Sheila, muffled in oilskins and sea boots, but with her wet hair
flowing over her shoulders, stood beside the skipper. No matter how
satisfied and confident Tunis might appear, the girl was still in an
uncertain state of mind.
"And so," she said to him anxiously, "I do not know what to tell
them. Cap'n Ira seemed so poorly and so unhappy. And he says Aunt
Prue is almost ill.
"But it was Cap'n Ira who told me what to do when we saw the
_Seamew_ in danger; how to get the men together and how to launch
the boat! Oh, it was wonderful! He was not too overcome to be
practical and realize your need, Tunis."
"Trust Cap'n Ira," agreed the young man. "And what other girl could
have done what you did, Sheila? Hear what Cap'n John Dunn says? You
ought to be a sailor's daughter. _I_ can tell him you are going to
be a sailor's wife."
"No, no! Oh, Tunis! It can't--"
"No 'can't' in the dictionary," interrupted the captain of the
_Seamew_. "You and I are going to have one big talk, Sheila, after I
take you up home."
"Up home?" she repeated.
"You are going back to Cap'n Ira's. You know you are. That other
girl has beat it for Boston, you say, and there's not a living
reason why you shouldn't return to the Balls.
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