Driving as the storm was, there remained something that took the
skipper of the _Seamew_ out into the welter of it. With the wet snow
plastering his back he climbed out of the saucerlike valley to the
rear premises of the Ball place. He even gave a look in at the barn
to make sure that all the chores were done for the night. The gray
ghost of the Queen of Sheba's face was raised a moment from her
manger while she looked at him inquiringly, blowing softly through
her nostrils the while.
"You're all right, anyway," said Tunis, chuckling as he closed the
barn door. "You've got a friend for life."
He went on to the kitchen door. Inside he could hear the bustle of
Sheila's swift feet, the croon of Prudence's gentle voice, and then
a mighty "A-choon!" as Cap'n Ira relieved his pent-up feelings.
"Don't let them fish cakes burn, gal," the old man drawled. "If
Tunis ain't here mighty quick he can eat his cold. Oh! Here he
is--right to the nick o' time, like the second mate's watch comin'
to breakfast."
Tunis had shaken his peacoat free of the clinging snow and now
stamped his sea-boots on the rug. He smiled broadly and confidently
at Sheila and she returned it so happily that her whole face seemed
to irradiate sunshine.
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