Part 11 (2/2)

”Do hurry along, children. The sailboat is nearly here.” This time it was Miss Jenny Ann's voice. ”They signaled us several minutes ago.

They have several other persons on board.”

Mrs. Curtis and Tom signaled as they approached the ”Merry Maid.”

Their guests were the artist, whom the girls had met the day before, Jack Bolling, and one or two strangers from the big summer hotel. Mike Muldoon, the owner of the boats, had another sailor on board to help him. Tom soon transferred the girls and their chaperon from their craft to his. The party intended to sail down the coast to a point of land known as Love Point and to eat their luncheon somewhere along the sh.o.r.e.

Mrs. Curtis sat across from Madge during their sailing trip, but every now and then she would look over to laugh at one of the young girl's amusing sallies. It was evident that the little captain of the ”Merry Maid” had found favor in her eyes. Mrs. Curtis had planned a dainty luncheon, to which the steward at the hotel had given special attention, even to the sending of a man to serve it. There were delicious sandwiches of various kinds, chicken and Waldorf salads, olives, salted nuts, individual ices sent down from Baltimore and bonbons. It was quite the most elaborate luncheon the girls had ever eaten and they were rather impressed with both it and the service.

After luncheon the party sat for a long time on the clean, white sand, laughing and talking gayly. It was a perfect day and everyone was in the best possible spirits. Later on they divided into little groups.

Lillian and Phil wandered off with Jack Bolling. Eleanor found a congenial companion in one of the young women guests from the hotel, while Tom, Miss Jones and Mrs. Curtis sat under a tree with the artist, watching him sketch. Madge, alone, flitted from one group to another, a little, restless spirit.

”Why don't you take Miss Morton for a sail, Tom?” suggested his mother.

”You will have time to go a short distance out. We shall not start for the hotel until four o'clock.”

”A good suggestion. Thank you, Mother,” cried Tom. ”Come on, Miss Morton.”

Madge and Tom went gayly down to the boat. Tom's big setter dog, Brownie, dashed after them, pleading so hard to be taken aboard that Tom at last consented to have him, though he gravely a.s.sured the animal that three was a crowd, to which statement Brownie merely gave a joyful yelp and darted on board without further ceremony.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Madge and Tom went gayly down to the boat.]

It was a glorious day with a stiff breeze blowing. The water was fairly choppy, but the boat sped along, occasionally das.h.i.+ng the spray into the two young faces. Madge wore a white cloth cap, with a visor, such as s.h.i.+p's officers wear, and looked as nautical as she felt. Both Tom and Madge were possessed with an unusual fondness for the water, and their common love of the sea was a strong bond between them.

”Have you ever heard of any one who could have locked you up in the old hut that night?” Tom asked as they sailed along.

Madge shook her head. ”No; I have not the faintest idea. To tell you the honest truth, I had almost forgotten that unpleasant experience.

We have been having such a beautiful time since that we haven't had time to think of disagreeable things.”

”Do you think it is safe for five women to be aboard that houseboat by themselves?” asked Tom anxiously. ”If your boat were farther out on the water you would be safer.”

Madge laughed merrily. ”Look here, Mr. Curtis, I don't think it is fair for you to question our safety when there are five of us, Wouldn't Phil be angry if she heard you say that! It makes her furious to hear a man or boy even intimate that girls can't take care of themselves.

Why, we can swim and run and jump, and we could put up a really brave fight if it were necessary. Besides, Nell and I know how to shoot.

Uncle taught us when we were very little girls. I have been duck shooting with him along this very bay. Look at that rowboat back there. I have been watching it for some time. It has been trying to follow us.”

Tom turned about. The boat was only a skiff, and, though it was nearly in their course, there was no chance of its coming any closer, as their boat was sailing before the wind.

”I believe it is the same skiff I saw this morning,” commented Tom. ”I suppose it is some fellow who has been fis.h.i.+ng out here. Just think of the fish in this wonderful bay--perch and pike and ba.s.s and a hundred other kinds! You must help me catch some of them some day.”

”All right, I will,” promised Madge merrily. As they went farther out into the bay they grew strangely silent. The spell of the sea was upon them and they were content to sail along, exchanging but little conversation. Chesapeake Bay was apparently in one of its most amiable moods and, lured on by its apparent good nature, Tom grew a trifle more reckless than was his wont and did not turn about to begin the homeward sail as soon as he had originally intended.

It was Madge who broke the spell. ”I think we had better start back.

Perhaps I merely imagine it, but it seems to me that the sun isn't s.h.i.+ning as brightly as it shone a little while ago. I know the bay so well. It is so wonderful, but so treacherous. I was once out on it in a sailboat during a sudden squall and I am not likely to forget it.”

Madge gave a slight shudder at the recollection.

<script>