"Now, Ira," admonished his wife, "do have charity."

"Charity? Huh! I'll take a pinch of snuff instead. That's a warnin',
Prudence! _A-choon!_"

Not until the second Sunday after the _Seamew_ had brought Ida May
from Boston did Big Wreck Cove folk in general get a "good slant,"
as they expressed it, at the Balls' visitor. There was an ancient
carryall in the barn, and on the Saturday previous little John-Ed
was caught and made to clean this vehicle, rub up the green-molded
harness, and give the Queen of Sheba more than "a lick and a
promise" with the currycomb and brush.

At ten o'clock on Sunday morning Sheila herself backed the gray mare
out of her stable and harnessed her into the shafts of the carryall.

"For a city gal, you are the handiest creature!" sighed Prudence,
marveling.

The girl only smiled. She was now used to such comments. They did
not make her heart flutter as had any reference to her past life at
first.

The bell in the steeple of the green-blinded, white-painted church
on the farther edge of the port was tinkling tinnily as the girl
drove the old mare down the hill, with Cap'n Ira and Prudence in the
rear seat of the carriage.

"We ain't felt we could undertake churchgoing for months, Ida May,"
the old woman said. "And I miss Elder Minnett's sermons."

"So do I," agreed her husband, with his usual caustic turn of
speech. "I swan! I can sleep better under the elder's preaching than
I can to home."

"If you go to sleep to-day, Ira, I shall step on your foot," warned
his wife.

"You'd better take care which one you step on," rejoined Cap'n Ira.
"I got a corn on one that jumps like an ulcerated tooth. If you
touch that I shall likely surprise you more'n I do when I take
snuff."

The Portygees had a chapel devoted to their faith. The carriage
passed that on the way to the Congregational Church. A girl, very
dark as to features, very red as to lips, and dressed in very gay
colors in spite of her destination, was mounting the chapel steps.
She halted to stare particularly at the quietly dressed girl driving
the gray mare.

"Ain't that Pareta's girl, Ira?" asked Prudence.

"I cal'late."

"What a bold-looking thing she's grown to be! But she's pretty."

"As a piney," agreed Cap'n Ira. "I reckon she sets all these
Portygee boys by the ears. I hear tell two of 'em had a knife fight
over her in Luiz's fish house some time ago. She'll raise real
trouble in the town 'fore she's well and sa