Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 4

"My friend is willing to sell this here boat for a hundred dollars,"

said the fisherman, Mike Muldoon, hesitating as he mentioned the sum.

It was all Madge could do to keep from clapping her hands for joy. One hundred dollars for the boat--that left another hundred for painting and remodeling and for other necessary expenses.

Just as Madge was about to close with the man's offer a look from Jack Bolling interrupted her.

"The boat is not worth a hundred dollars," he declared decisively.

"The young lady will give you fifty dollars for it, and not a cent more."

The man laughed contemptuously. "I can't do it," he said. "That boat is cheap at a hundred dollars."

"At fifty, you mean," retorted Jack stubbornly.

The girls stood back quietly and allowed Jack to drive the bargain, which he did with so much spirit that the coveted boat was at last made over to him at his price, fifty dollars.

For the rest of the day the four girls spent their time interviewing carpenters and painters. At last they found a man who promised to deliver the boat, rebuilt according to Madge's idea, at a little town several miles farther down the bay. The man owned a motor boat. He was to take the houseboat to a landing, where the girls could load it with the necessary supplies, and then to tow them farther down the bay, until they found the ideal place for their summer holiday.

"I declare, Madge, dear, I was never so tired, nor so happy in my life," declared Eleanor Butler late that afternoon, as the quartette were on their way back to their school at Harborpoint. "I can see our houseboat, now, as plainly as anything. At first, Lillian and I couldn't quite believe in your idea."

Madge had heard Eleanor's comments but vaguely. She was doing a sum in mental arithmetic. "Fifty dollars for the old shanty boat, seventy-five for remodeling it, fifteen to the man for towing." Here she became confused. But she still knew there was quite a large sum of money left for buying the little furniture they needed and their store of provisions.

Phyllis Alden, too, had been busy calculating. "I think we can do it, Madge," she said, leaning over from the back seat to speak to her friend.

"Of course we can. We shall have whole lots of money," announced Madge triumphantly.

Phil shook her head. "I am afraid we won't. There is one thing we must buy that will be expensive."

Lillian straightened up. She had been leaning against the back of the seat, utterly worn out. The three girls gazed at Phil in consternation. What was this new item of expense that threatened to eat up their little capital?

"Don't keep us in suspense, Phil," laughed Eleanor. "What have we forgotten to buy?"

"A kitchen stove!" cried Phil dramatically. "And I know they must be awfully expensive."

"What a goose you are, Phil," said Lillian in a practical tone. "We don't want a kitchen stove. It would take up too much room. We need an oil stove or something like that."

"Then I appoint you as a special committee to look into the stove question, Lillian," laughed Madge.

"I accept the appointment," bowed Lillian, "and I won't waste our capital on kitchen ranges of elephantine proportions, either."

During the next five days the four friends found plenty to occupy their time. Then Miss Tolliver's school closed, and Phil Alden hurried home to her family in Hartford, Connecticut; Lillian returned to her home in Philadelphia, while Madge and Eleanor departed to spend a week with Mr.

and Mrs. Butler in their old home in Virginia. Miss Jones, however, remained at the school. She made one hurried trip into Baltimore, and on another occasion had a visitor, but the rest of the time she sewed industriously; for on June the eighth a new experience was to be hers--she was to begin her duties as chaperon to four adventurous girls aboard their longed-for "s.h.i.+p of Dreams."

CHAPTER V

ALL ABOARD

Blue waves lapped idly against the sides of a little, white palace that had risen out of the waves of the bay overnight. One side lay close along a quiet sh.o.r.e. Overhead the leaves of a willow tree stirred in the wind, and the birds twittered in its branches. The rosy flush was just fading out of the sky. Dawn had come only a short time before, and the wind, the waves and the birds were the only things stirring so early in the morning. There was not a sound or a movement aboard the odd vessel that was moored to the sh.o.r.e.

Along the sh.o.r.e sped the slender figure of a girl. It was a part of the morning. Her blue frock was the color of the sky and her auburn hair had been touched by the sun, and on her radiant face lay the glory of youth.

Of course, it was Madge! She did not stop when she first spied her houseboat between the branches of the willow tree. She gave a little gasp, and ran on faster than ever. A moment later she came alongside her boat, which was only about three feet from the sh.o.r.e. Madge had not practised running and jumping in the gymnasium at school and on the old farm in Virginia for nothing. She gave one flying leap and landed on the deck of her houseboat. Then she stood perfectly still, a little song of grat.i.tude welling from the depth of her happy heart.

"Perhaps it was not fair in me to have run away from Eleanor," she mused. "But then Nellie is such a sleepy-head, she never would have wished to get up so early. And I did want to see the boat alone, just for a moment. I am not going to look into the cabin, though. I am going to wait for the other girls----"

A stone went whizzing by Madge's ear at this moment, causing her soliloquy to come to an abrupt end.

She glanced toward the sh.o.r.e. A small boy stood grinning at her, with his hands tucked into a pair of trousers so much too long for him they had to be turned up from the ankles to the knees.

"h.e.l.lo," he remarked cheerfully, eyeing Madge owlishly.

"h.e.l.lo yourself," returned Madge. "Do you usually begin the day by throwing stones at peaceful strangers?"

"Yes'm," the small boy responded calmly. "Where'd you and that come from?"

"I came from my home in Virginia, and if by 'that' you mean my boat, it is a 's.h.i.+p of Dreams' and was towed up here from Baltimore yesterday afternoon. What do you think of it?"

"She isn't a dream, she's a peach," was the prompt retort.

"I'm glad you like her," smiled Madge in a winning fas.h.i.+on that caused the lad to smile in return. "Why are you up so early in the morning?"

"Driving home the cows," was the laconic answer.

"I don't see any cows," teased Madge. "Wait a minute. I have something for you to do. Would you like to earn a quarter? If you would, then come back here about nine o'clock. We are going to load our boat with some furniture and provisions, and we would like to have you help us."

"All right, I'll be here," promised the boy, and ran off into the bushes with a derisive grin which Madge did not see.

A few moments later Madge went back to Eleanor to have breakfast at the little boarding house where she and her cousin had spent the night.

Miss Jones, Lillian and Phil had not yet arrived, but they were expected by the early train that came from Baltimore. The little village from which they intended to go aboard their houseboat was only about half an hour's ride from the city, and was situated on one of the quiet inlets of the bay.

Fifteen minutes before the train was due Eleanor and Madge were impatiently waiting at the station. The newcomers were so surrounded by bags, suit cases and mysterious packages that it took all the men about the depot to land them safely on the platform. Madge gave the order to the expressman to bring all their luggage to the houseboat landing near the willow tree. Then the party started out to find the boat, without losing a minute by the way.

Madge slipped her arm through that of Miss Jones and walked beside her dutifully, though she secretly longed to be with her chums. Lillian, Phil and Eleanor joined hands and ran ahead, without being in the least degree affected by the idea that they were no longer children. Madge, however, was the only one who knew the way. She hurried Miss Jones along until that young woman was almost out of breath. When they were within a short distance of the place where she had found her boat waiting for her in the early morning, she could bear it no longer.

With a murmured excuse she broke away from Miss Jones and started on a run toward the willow tree. Her three chums were close behind her.

The branches of the willow tree seemed more impenetrable in the bright sunlight. It was not so easy to see through them. Madge ran straight past the tree, then uttered a shrill cry. She stopped short, her cheeks turning first red, then white.

"What is it?" cried Phil, springing to her friend's side.

Madge pointed dumbly toward the water.

"Tell us!" said Eleanor, running up to Madge and lightly grasping her arm.

"Our houseboat is gone!" gasped Madge. "It was right there, tied to that very post along the sh.o.r.e early this morning! The man who brought it down from Baltimore left a note for me describing the landing place.

He said he had to go back to Baltimore, but that he would come here this afternoon to tow us. Now the boat has gone! O, girls, what shall we do?"

The girls stared at the water in silence. Disappointment rendered them speechless for the moment. "Let us look up and down the sh.o.r.e,"

suggested Phil comfortingly. "I suppose it is just barely possible that the rope broke away from the stake, and the boat has floated off somewhere."