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Updated: May 5, 2025
Ira, now losing all semblance of policy at being thus grievously put down by his possible mother-in-law, "reckoned that herdin’ sheep over to the Basin was a heap easier on the skin than livin’ in a comf’table house over to Bad Water"—this as a fling at Hawks, who herded a small bunch of sheep "over in the Basin."
"Here, Zeb," he said, producing a dime. "You're a willin' friend, I know. I'm running low on snuff. Get me a packet, will ye? American Affection is my brand. Just slip it in your pocket and bring it along with you when you come by to-morrow." "But but I don't know as I shall be up this way to-morrow, Cap'n Ira. Though maybe I shall." And he glanced again at the smiling girl.
"Why, how you talk!" "Didn't ye see 'em all standing around as we drove away from the church, casting sheep's eyes? And they're hating each other already like a hen hates dishwater. I swan!" "For the land's sake!" "No. For Ida May's sake," chuckled Cap'n Ira. "That's who I've got to defend with a shotgun." The girl flushed rosily, but she laughed, too. "You can leave them to me, Uncle Ira.
The novel audacity of this speech, and the fact that it suggested that preoccupation he hoped for, relieved Ira for a moment, while it enchanted the guests as a stroke of coquettish fascination. Mrs. Beasley triumphantly disappeared in the kitchen, slipped off her cuffs and set to work, and in a few moments emerged with a tray bearing the cakes and steaming coffee.
"And, by gum, that ain't much!" he growled to himself. He took the beautifully sailing schooner in through the channel in a masterly manner. He knew that more ancient skippers than Cap'n Ira Ball, up there on Wreckers' Head, would be watching the Seamew make the cove, and old Horry Newbegin wanted them to say it was well done.
Ira turned quickly and looked over his shoulder. Across the uneven ground, straight towards them, came the figure of Mrs. Pember. The tenseness of her expression had further yielded to resolution, which had in turn taken on a stolidity which declared itself unassailable.
The news that the allied armies have been beaten and the Duke of Brunswick was in full retreat when the packets sailed, has apparently driven them frantic with joy. They are yelling 'Ça ira, bonfires are flaring everywhere, and bells ringing. All of the men are drunk, and some of the women.
"She was a pretty baby, as you say, Ira." "Sarah was nice as she could be to you," was the old man's thoughtful comment. "Yes. But her husband, Bostwick, was only a mechanic. Of course, he left nothing. Them city folks are so improvident," said Prudence. "I wish't we was able to do something for little Ida May, Ira. Think of her workin' behind a counter!"
"I have talked with that young woman on two occasions," said the elder. "With what young woman?" interrupted Cap'n Ira. "With the girl staying at the Widow Pauling's. The girl who claims to be your niece." "You'd better talk with the other young woman," said Cap'n Ira sternly. "Ida May! Just you come in here and sit down. You are as much interested as we be, I guess.
You see yourself only yesterday how she is like to come to her death because of the mare." "I know that you should have somebody living with you, Cap'n Ira," urged Tunis. "But what does this mean?" "I I can't scurcely tell you, Tunis. I swan! I was goin' to murder the old critter." "What do you mean?" gasped Tunis in apparent horror. "Not Aunt Prue?"
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