ick put forward. She must do this for
Tunis even more than for herself.

She arose determinedly. With this thought, strength surged back into
her limbs as well as into her mind. For a time she had been weak,
undecided. Once more she gathered her energies to oppose the sea of
adversity which threatened to overwhelm her.

She crossed the hall and opened the sitting room door. Cap'n Ira sat
in his usual chair, leaning forward, with his hands clasped over the
knob of his cane. Prudence, with a wondering look on her face, sat
beside him, and just as far from the new girl as the length of the
room would allow. The latter had been speaking with her usual
vehemence, and she did not even glance at Sheila when the latter
came quietly into the room.

"Oh, Ida May!" gasped Prudence, and almost ran to her. "Do you know
what she is saying? I never heard of such a thing!"

"I tell you she _ain't_ Ida Bostwick," cried the other. "Don't you
dare call her that. I'll--"

"Hoity-toity, young woman! Avast there!" said the captain gruffly.
"We won't get to the rights of this by quarreling. Wait!"

He looked at Sheila, and his weatherhued countenance was as kindly
of expression as usual.

"You know what this young woman says?" he asked.

Sheila nodded, but she held Prudence closely. The old woman was
sobbing.

"This won't do, you know," said Cap'n Ira. "I swan! It beats my
time. I expect you've got friends somewhere, young woman, and you
ought to be given into their charge. I'm real sorry for you, but
what you say don't sound sensible. Ain't you made a mistake? I
cal'late you heard about us and Ida May--"

"I tell you," cried the girl, starting to her feet again, the brown
eyes flashing spitefully, "that that thing there is an impostor.
She's got my place. She's took my name. Why, I'll--I'll have her
arrested. Ain't there no police in this awful place?"

"There's a constable all right," said Cap'n Ira calmly. "But I
wouldn't want to call him in. Not just now, anyway. It looks to me
you wanted a doctor more than you wanted a constable."

"You think I'm crazy!" gasped Ida May.

"Well, it looks as though you was a leetle off your course," the old
man told her calmly. "You don't talk with sense, to say the least.
Making the claim you do would make most anybody think you was a
little flighty. Yes, a little flighty, to say the least." And he
wagged his head.

"Look here," he pursued soothingly. "Have you been sick, perhaps?
You