Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 9

"Please take them," he urged, handing the open package to Lillian.

"We mustn't take them from you," protested Lillian. "We thank you for the coffee. That will do nicely until we get back to our boat."

The stranger laughed. "See here," he protested, "not an hour ago, when I left the hotel, where my mother and I are spending the summer, I ate three eggs, much bacon, four Maryland biscuit and drank two cups of coffee. Fragile creature that I am, I believe I can exist on that amount of refreshment for another hour or so. But whenever I go out on a few hours' hunting trip, my mother insists that the steward at the hotel put me up a luncheon. She is forever imagining that I am likely to get lost and starve, a modern 'Babe in the Woods,' you know. By the way, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Curtis, Thomas Stevenson Curtis, if you please, but I am more used to plain, everyday Tom."

The girls acknowledged the introduction, then by common consent they began walking away from the cabin.

A short distance was traversed in silence, then Madge said abruptly, "Who do you suppose locked us in, Mr. Curtis?"

"I don't know," answered Tom Curtis darkly, clenching his fist. "But wouldn't I like to find out! Have you an enemy about here?"

Madge shook her head. "No; as I said, we came to the neighborhood only yesterday. We have met only the farmer and his wife, who allowed us to land."

"I'll make it my business to find out who served you such a dastardly trick, Miss Morton," Tom returned. "I expect to be in this neighborhood all summer. My mother isn't very well, and we like this quiet place. Our home is in New York. I was a freshman last year at Columbia."

Only the day before Tom Curtis had informed his mother that he found the neighborhood too slow, and that if she didn't object he would be glad to move on. But a great deal can happen in a short time to make a young man of twenty change his mind.

"Thank you," replied Madge sedately. "I'll be on the lookout for the wretch, too. Now we must hurry back to our chaperon, Miss Jones. I won't ask you to come with us this morning, but we shall be very glad to have you come aboard our boat to-morrow. We haven't named her yet, but she is so white and clean and new looking that you can't possibly mistake her. She is lying on an arm of the bay just south of these woods."

"I'll surely avail myself of the invitation," smiled Tom Curtis as they paused for a moment at the edge of the woods. Below them the blue waters of the bay gleamed in the suns.h.i.+ne. And yes, there was their beloved "s.h.i.+p of Dreams."

"Oh, you can see her from here!" exclaimed Madge, her eyes dancing with the pride of possession. "See, Mr. Curtis, it is our very own 's.h.i.+p of Dreams' until we give her a real name."

"She's a beauty," said Tom Curtis warmly, "and I really must have a closer look at her."

"Then come to see us soon," invited Phil audaciously.

"I will, you may be certain of it. Good-bye. I hope you won't suffer any bad effects from your strenuous night." The young man raised his cap and, whistling to his dog, strode off down the hill.

"What a nice boy," commented Lillian.

Madge, however, was not thinking of Tom Curtis; her mind dwelt upon their chaperon, and the long, anxious night she had spent alone on the houseboat.

Poor Miss Jones! Her vigil had indeed been a patient one. From the time the hands of the little cabin clock had pointed to the hour of six she had anxiously awaited the girls. She had cooked the dinner, then set it in the oven to warm. At seven o'clock she trudged up the hill to the farmhouse to make inquiries. No one had seen the young women since they pa.s.sed through the fields early that afternoon. At nine o'clock a party of farmers scoured the country side, but the extreme darkness of the night had caused the young men to discontinue their search until daylight.

At dawn Miss Jones flung herself down on her berth, utterly exhausted.

She would rest until the search party started out again, then she would hurry to the nearest town and inform the authorities of the strange disappearance of the girls. As she lay with half-closed eyes trying to imagine just what could possibly have happened to her charges, a familiar call broke upon her ears that caused her to spring up from her berth in wonder.

"We've come to see Miss Jennie Ann Jones," caroled a voice, and in the next instant the bewildered teacher was surrounded by four tired but smiling girls.

"We were locked up all night in a log cabin in the woods," began Madge.

"Do say you are glad to see us and give us some breakfast, Miss Jennie Ann Jones, for we were never so hungry in all our lives before, and as soon as we have something to eat, we'll tell you the strangest story you ever heard."

With her arm thrown across the teacher's shoulders Madge made her way to the houseboat, followed by her friends. At that moment, to the little, impulsive girl, Miss Jennie Ann Jones seemed particularly dear, in spite of her mysterious ways, and Madge made mental resolve to try to believe in their chaperon, no matter what happened.

CHAPTER IX

THE GIRL ON THE ISLAND

"Phil, it looks like only a little more than half a mile over to the island. Do you think we can make it?" asked Madge, casting speculative eyes toward the distant island.

"Of course we can," declared Phyllis. "I'm sorry that Eleanor and Miss Jones did not come with us. But they have become so domestic that they can't be persuaded to leave the houseboat. Nelly told me she positively loved to polish kettles and things," Phil replied.

Lillian, Phyllis and Madge were in their own rowboat, the "Water Witch," which had been expressed to them from Harborpoint. They were no longer in the quiet inlet of the bay, where their houseboat was anch.o.r.ed, but rowing out toward the more open water. On one side of them they could see the beach in front of a large summer hotel. Across from it lay a small island, to which they were rowing.

"Miss Jones doesn't like to have us start off alone this way. She has grown dreadfully nervous about us since our experience in the cabin,"

remarked Lillian. "That is why she didn't approve of Madge's plan this morning."

"I thought Madge was going to fly into little bits when Miss Jones suggested it was not safe for us to row about here in our own little 'Water Witch,'" teased Phil.

"Phil, please don't discuss my temper," answered Madge crossly. "If there is one thing I hate worse than another, it is to hear people talk about my faults. Of course, I know I have a perfectly detestable temper, but I hardly said a word to Miss Jenny Ann. Please tell me what fun we could have on our holiday if we never dared to go ten feet away from the houseboat?"

"None whatever," answered Lillian, "only you needn't be so cross with Phil and me. We were not discussing your faults. You are altogether too ready to become angry over a trifle." There was indignation and reproof in Lillian's tone.

Madge plied her oars in silence. She knew that she had behaved badly.

"Isn't it exactly like me?" she thought to herself. "If I am sweet and agreeable one minute, and feel pleased with myself, I can surely count on doing something disagreeable the next. Now I have made Lillian and Phil cross with me and probably have hurt Miss Jenny Ann's feelings and spoiled this beautiful day for us all."

Eleanor's soft voice broke in upon her self-arraignment. "Don't squabble, girls. The day is altogether too perfect. None of you are really cross. Now, are you?"

Three pairs of eyes met hers, then the little dispute ended in a general laugh.

Madge and Phil rowed faster than ever after this little falling out.

They could see the sh.o.r.es of Fisherman's Island not far ahead, with several dories and small fis.h.i.+ng craft anch.o.r.ed along the banks. They were heading toward an open beach, where there was no sign of life.

"Girls, look out!" warned Lillian. She was sitting in the bow of their skiff, and could see another rowboat moving toward them, the two pairs of oars rising and falling in perfect accord. The boat was so close to them that Lillian was afraid Phil and Madge might cross oars with it.

But as the other boat glided smoothly up alongside of their skiff, the oars were drawn swiftly inboard, almost before the girls knew what had happened.

"I suppose you don't speak to people on the water whom you might be persuaded to notice on land," called Tom Curtis reproachfully.

"O Mr. Curtis! how do you do?" laughed Madge. "You see, we are not possessed with eyes in the backs of our heads, or we should have recognized you. Goodness gracious! If there isn't my cousin, Jack Bolling! I never dreamed you knew him. Why didn't you tell me? Jack, where did you come from?"

Tom looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Tom. "Age before beauty, Mr.

Curtis," bowed Jack. "You answer first."

"To tell you the solemn truth, I did not know your cousin until this morning," Tom explained. "But when I saw a not specially bad-looking fellow mooning about our hotel as though lost I went over and spoke to him. It wasn't long before I found out he knew you young ladies. I told him about meeting you in the woods the other day, and we shook hands on it. Now, Bolling, it is your turn. How did you happen to turn up in this particular place?"

Jack was apparently looking at Lillian and Madge, but he had really glanced first at Phyllis Alden, to see how she had borne the shock of his presence. Jack had guessed correctly that Phyllis did not like him. To tell the truth, she looked anything but pleased. She did not like boys. She could do most of the things they could, and they were, to her mind, a nuisance. They were always on hand, trying to help and to pretend that girls were weaker than they were in order to domineer over them. The worst of it was, Madge, Lillian and Eleanor might think the newcomers would add to the fun. So, though Phyllis did not mean to be rude either to Tom or to Jack, she was far from enthusiastic, and could not help showing it.

"Of course, I had to come down to see what your houseboat looked like after I got your note telling me where you were," explained Jack. "I knew there was a hotel near here, so, as soon as school closed, I ran down for a few days to see how you were getting on. You see, I was really very much interested in the houseboat." Jack made this last remark directly to Phyllis. She merely glanced carelessly away in the opposite direction.

"We rowed up from the hotel to the houseboat, but we couldn't see a soul aboard. 'The s.h.i.+p was still as still could be,'" declared Tom.

"Then we started for a row and found you." There was no doubt that Tom was looking straight at Madge.

"We are rowing over to the island," remarked Lillian graciously.