and when Cap'n Ira came hobbling into the kitchen an hour
later breakfast was in preparation on the glowing stove.

"I swan! This is comfort, and no mistake," chuckled the old man,
rubbing his chin reflectively. "You're going to be a blessing in
this house, Ida May."

"I hope you'll always say so, Uncle Ira," returned the girl, smiling
at him.

"I cal'late. Now I'll get washed, but that derned shavin'."

"You sit down in that rocker and I'll shave you," she said briskly.
"Oh, I can do it! I shaved my own father when he was sick last--"

She stopped, turned away, and fell silent. It was the first time
she had spoken of either of her parents, but Cap'n Ira did not
notice her sudden confusion. He prepared for the ordeal, making his
own lather and opening the razor.

"I can't strop it, Ida May," he groaned. "That's one of the things
that's beyont my powers."

She came to him with a clean towel which she tucked carefully in at
the neckband of his shirt. Practically she lathered his face and
rubbed the lather into the stubble with brisk hands. He grunted
ecstatically, lying back in the chair in solid comfort. He eyed her
manipulation of the razor on the strop with approval.

For the first time in many a morning he was shaved neatly and with
dispatch. When Prudence came feebly into the room, he hailed her
delightedly.

"You've lost your job, old woman!" he cried.

"And ain't there a thing for me to do?" queried Prudence softly, yet
smiling.

"Just sit down at the table, auntie," said the girl. "The coffee is
made. How long do you want your eggs boiled? The water is bubbling."

"Eggs!" exclaimed Cap'n Ira. "I thought them hens of Prue's had give
up layin' altogether."

"I found some stolen nests in the barn," returned Ida May. "They
have been playing tricks on you."

It was near noon when Ida May from an upper window saw the _Seamew_
beating out of the cove on her return trip to Boston. She watched
the schooner as long as the white sails were visible. But her heart
was not wholly with the beautiful schooner. A great content filled
her soul. Afterward she bustled about, straightening up the house,
her cheerful smile always ready when the old folks spoke. They
watched her with such a feeling of thankfulness as they could not
openly express.

After dinner she started on the ironing and proved herself to be as
capable in that line as in everything else.

"Maybe she's been a shopgirl, Ira," Prudence observed i