Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid | Page 6

little flat in the city.
She has a large family, and I expect to help her. My parents are dead."
"Then why don't you go into the country to board somewhere?" flashed
from Madge's lips unexpectedly. A moment after she was sorry she had
asked the question, for a curious, frightened expression crossed her
teacher's face.

Miss Jones hesitated. "I have had to use the money I have made by my
teaching for--for other purposes," she explained, in the stiff, cold
manner that seemed so unattractive to gracious, sunshiny Madge. "I am
sorry to have worried you with my troubles," Miss Jones said again.
"Please forgive me and forget what I have told you. I shall probably do
very well."
Madge went slowly back to her room in a most unhappy frame of mind.
She knew a way in which Miss Jones would be able to spend her
summer out-of-doors, and perhaps grow well and strong again. She
could be invited to chaperon the houseboat party. She knew her friends
would immediately agree to the idea. They liked Miss Jones far better
than she did. Even if they had not liked her, sympathy would have
inspired them to extend the invitation. It was she alone who would
hesitate. Of course, she never expected to be as good as her friends. So
Madge argued with herself. It was too dreadful to give up the idea of
asking her adored "Lady of Quality" to act as their guardian angel.
Madge decided she simply could not make the sacrifice. Then, too, she
did not even know whether her uncle and aunt would consent to the
houseboat party. It would be time enough afterward to deliver her last
invitation.
For two days, which seemed intolerably long to impatient Madge
Morton, the four friends waited to hear their fate from Mr. and Mrs.
Butler.
On the third morning a letter addressed to Madge in Mrs. Butler's
handwriting was handed to her while she and her chums were at
breakfast. In her great excitement her hands trembled so that she could
hardly finish her breakfast. "Here, Eleanor," Madge finally faltered, as
the four girls left the dining room to go upstairs, "you take the letter
and read it to us, please do. Positively I haven't the courage to look at it.
I feel almost sure that Aunt Sue will say we can't go on our houseboat
trip."
Lillian put her hand affectionately on Madge's arm, while Phil stood
next to Eleanor.

"My dear Madge," the letter began, "I think your houseboat plan for the
summer a most extraordinary one. I never heard of young girls
attempting such a holiday before. I can not imagine how you happened
to unearth such a peculiar idea."
Madge gave a gasp of despair. She felt that the tone of her Aunt Sue's
letter spelled refusal. But Eleanor read on: "Like a good many of your
unusual ideas, this houseboat scheme seems, after all, to be rather an
interesting one. Your uncle and I have talked over your letter and
Eleanor's. We do not wish you and Eleanor to be separated, and we do
wish you both to have the happiest holiday possible, as we are quite
sure you have earned it. So, if you can find a suitable chaperon, we are
willing to give our consent to your undertaking. We had intended to
pay twenty-five dollars a month board for Eleanor with her cousins at
Charlottesville, so we shall be glad to contribute that sum toward the
provisioning of the house-boat."
There was a dead silence in the room when Eleanor at last finished
reading the letter. For half a minute the four chums were too happy to
speak. Then there was a united sigh of relief.
"Oh, I shall never be able to survive it! It is too much joy for one day!"
cried the irrepressible Madge, dancing around in a circle and dragging
Lillian Seldon, whose arm was linked in hers, with her.
Lillian and Phyllis had received their parents' consent, by letter, the day
before and had already agreed that their respective monthly allowances
should be placed in the general fund.
"Be still, Madge," begged Eleanor. "You are so noisy that you drive all
thought from our heads. The first thing for us to consider is where we
shall find a chaperon."
"No; the first thing to do is to find the house-boat. O Ship of our
Dreams! tell us, dear Ship, where we can find you?" cried Phyllis
Alden longingly. She was looking past her friends with half-closed
eyes. Already she was, in the land of her imagination, in a beautiful
white boat, floating beside an evergreen shore. The little craft was

furnished all in white, with dainty muslin curtains hung at the tiny
cabin windows. Flowers encircled the