Part 25 (1/2)

The houseboat party would never have finished its packing except for their uninvited visitor. He sat on trunks, fastened locks and doors.

At one o'clock ”The Merry Maid” was in order to be deserted.

”Let's go up to the farmhouse to get some food,” suggested Tom. ”I am hungry as a bear, and I know they will give us some milk and bread.”

Madge demurred, but the other three girls and Miss Jenny Ann were much too hungry to stand on ceremony.

Tom led the way to the farmhouse as though he felt sure of his welcome.

At the old gate, however, they found Mrs. Curtis and Madeleine apparently waiting for them. ”We couldn't bear that yesterday should be good-bye,” explained Mrs. Curtis, putting her arm about Madge and drawing her away from the others.

Madeleine held out her hands to Phyllis. She still looked white and fragile from her illness, but she was so exquisitely lovely that people turned about to gaze at her as she pa.s.sed by them. Her face wore the expression of a serious child. She could not immediately make up for the lost years of her life, and she never left her mother or her brother but for a short time. Still she was at ease with the girls and talked a little with them. Her memory had come back to her, whether from the second blow on her head, or from the quiet life--which, the medical men could not say. After a while Madeleine would be able to take the place in the gay world which her beauty and wealth made for her. For the present she needed rest, quiet, and absolute peace of mind.

”You haven't changed your mind, have you, Madge?” asked Mrs. Curtis, as she and the little captain walked side by side to the farmhouse together.

Madge shook her bead. ”It isn't a case of changing my mind. I had not decided. Now that you have found your real daughter you surely do not wish to be burdened with an imitation one.”

”But I still want you, my dear. A woman is richer with two daughters than with one,” replied Mrs. Curtis.

”No; you and Madeleine ought to be together,” concluded Madge wisely.

”You are awfully good, and I shall always feel that you are the best friend I have. But I had not been able to make up my mind to leave my own people and the girls, so, of course, everything has turned out for the best, and I am so happy for you and Tom and Madeleine. It is as good as playing a part in a fairy story to see one come true before your very eyes. Have you seen Captain Mike?” Madge lowered her voice, so that Madeleine could not overhear her.

Mrs. Curtis flushed. ”Once, and for always. I hope never to look upon the dreadful man again. Tom felt that he and I must go to this Mike to ask him something of my little girl's history. He claims to have picked her up and, thinking her dead, left her for a few hours unnoticed in his sailboat. The man had done something reprehensible while in Florida, and was sailing for the Atlantic Ocean to flee from justice, so he did not stop to inquire about my child, or to give her more than a pa.s.sing thought. His first wife was evidently a better woman than this second one. She worked with my Madeleine, brought her back to life and must have been good to her. But my baby could never remember her name, nor tell anything about herself. Captain Mike was on the ocean for two weeks, and too ignorant to study the papers afterward. The first wife wished to keep the child. After a short time she died, and then----” Mrs. Curtis stopped abruptly.

”We won't ever mention it again,” said Madge tactfully. ”I can only say I am so glad you found her.”

Mrs. Watson, the farmer's wife, met the houseboat party with a smiling face. She conducted them into the dining room. Miss Jenny Ann and the four girls sighed with satisfaction for they were very hungry. The great mahogany table was weighted down with food--roast chicken, ham, salad, doughnuts.

”This is Tom's party,” smiled Mrs. Curtis, in answer to a look of delighted astonishment from Madge. ”It was his idea to say a last good-bye to our houseboat friends, and to see them safely started on their journey toward home. But, Miss Jenny Ann, I have something to say. I wish to tell you a story and I wish you to tell me what you think without any reference to anybody or anything at this table.”

”Of course I will,” answered Miss Jenny Ann lightly, not dreaming what Mrs. Curtis intended to say.

”Suppose, once upon a time you had lost something very precious,”