"Lay off your hat and coat, Ida May, on the sitting-room lounge," said Prudence. "We'll have supper before I show you upstairs. Me and Ira sleep down here, but there's a nice, big room up there I've fixed up for you."
"Before you were sure I could come?" the girl asked in some wonder.
"She's got faith enough to move mountains, Prudence has," broke in Cap'n Ira proudly. "At least, I cal'late she's got enough to move this here Wreckers' Head if she set out to." And he chuckled.
"But you believed Ida May would come, too. You said so, Ira," cried his wife.
"I swan! I had to say it to keep up with you," he returned. "Otherwise you'd have sailed fathoms ahead of me. However, if you hadn't come, gal, neither of us could have well said to the other them bitterest of all human words: 'I told you so!'"
"How could you suppose I would not come?" asked the girl gayly. "Who would refuse such a generous offer?"
"I knowed you'd see it that way," said Prudence happily.
"But there might have been circumstances we could not foresee," Cap'n Ira said. "You—you didn't have many friends where you was stopping?"
"No real friends."
"Well, there is a difference, I cal'late. No young man, o' course, like Tunis Latham, for instance?"