ment Prudence was taking down her own starched, blue house
dress from the line. It was hung like a pirate in chains by its
sleeves, was blown out as round as a barrel, and was as stiff as a
board. Just as the pins came out an extra heavy puff of wind
shrieked around the corner of the house, as though it had been lying
in wait for just this opportunity.

The dress was whipped out of Aunt Prue's hands. She herself, as
Cap'n Ira had warned her, was cast, face downward, into the
half-filled clothes basket. The blue dress was whirled high in the
air, skirt downward. Before the old man was warned by Prudence's
muffled scream that something had gone wrong, the starched dress
plumped down over his head and shoulders, and he was bound fast and
blinded in its folds.

"Drat the thing! What did I tell ye?" bawled Cap'n Ira. "Take this
here thing off'n me! Want to make me more of an old Betty than I be
a'ready--a-dressin' me in women's clothes? I swan!"

CHAPTER XII

A NEW HAND AT THE HELM

Tunis ran to the old man's rescue, but it was the girl who lifted
Prudence from out the laundry-basket.

"Drat the thing!" ejaculated Cap'n Ira, fighting off the starched
dress. "Feel like I was being smothered by a complete suit of sails.
That you, Tunis?"

"Yes, Cap'n Ira. You're all right now. Hold on! Don't let's mess up
Aunt Prue's wrapper more than can be helped. 'Vast there!"

"I swan! Don't it beat all what a pickle we get into? We ain't no
more fit to be alone, me an' Prue, than a pair o' babies. For the
lan's sake, Tunis! Who is that?"

He was staring at the girl, who led forward the trembling old woman,
her strong, young arms about the thin shoulders. Prudence was
tearful but smiling.

"This is the girl you sent me for," said the captain of the
_Seamew_.

The girl was smiling, too. To the delight of the young man there was
no suspicion of fear or shyness in her expression. Her eyes were
luminous. Her smile he thought would have ravished the heart of a
misogynist.

"I swan!" murmured Cap'n Ira, almost prayerfully.

"Ain't she pretty, Ira?" cried Prudence, almost girlish herself in
her new happiness. "Just like Sarah Honey was when she was Ida May's
age. And ain't it sweet, her coming to us this way? She's brought
her trunk. She's going to stay."

"And I know I shall be happy here, Uncle Ira," said the girl, giving
him her hand.

Cap'n Ira's smile was as ecstatic as that of his wife. He looked
sidewise at T