her feet.

"My skirt!" She almost whispered it. There seemed to be not a
shyness, but a terrified timidity in her voice and manner. Tunis saw
that the shabby skirt was torn widely at the hem.

"Let's go somewhere and get that fixed," he suggested awkwardly.

"Thank you, sir. I will go back into the restaurant. I work there. I
can get a pin or two."

He had to let her go, of course. Nor could he follow her. He lacked
the boldness that might have led another man to enter the restaurant
and order something to eat for the sake of seeing what became of the
girl with the violet eyes and colorless velvet cheeks. There had
been an appeal in her countenance that called Tunis more and more as
he dreamed about her.

And standing there on Scollay Square dreaming about her had done the
young captain of the _Seamew_ positively no good! She did not come
out again, although he stood there for fully an hour. At the end of
that time he strolled up an alley and discovered that there was a
side door to the restaurant for the use of employees, and he judged
that the girl, seeing him lingering in front, had gone out by this
way. It made him flush to his ears when he thought of it. Of course,
he had been rude.

Marching up the winding road by the Ball homestead, Tunis Latham
revisioned this adventure--and the violet-eyed girl. Well, he
probably would never see her again. And in any case she was not the