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Page 20
Madge raised her eyes in surprise. After all, was Miss Jones going to
tell of last night's adventure? But the chaperon was not looking at
her. She was smiling at Phil, Lillian and Eleanor.
"Well, out with it, Miss Jones," laughed Phil. "What is the
confession?"
"It is a foolish one, perhaps. I hate the name of 'Jones.' I have
despised it all my life. There, that is my confession. Won't you
girls please call me something else while we are having our holiday
together? I know Madge can find a name for me." She looked rather
timidly at Madge.
The girl blushed, though she felt vastly relieved at Miss Jones's
confession. "What do you wish us to call you? I saw your initials in
some of your books, 'J. A. Jones,' so we might call you Jenny Ann
Jones, because, when Nellie and I were children, we used to play an old
nursery game: 'We're going to see Miss Jenny Ann Jones, Miss Jenny Ann
Jones, and how is she to-day?'" Madge's explanation ended with a song.
Miss Jones laughed. "My name is worse than Jenny Ann, it is Jemima
Ann."
"It isn't pretty," agreed Phyllis, with a shake of the head. "Girls,
what shall we call our chaperon? And we have never named our
houseboat, either. We have a day's work ahead of us. We must think of
names for both of them."
"Wouldn't 'Miss Ann' do?" Eleanor asked.
"I think Ann is such a pretty name."
"I would rather you had a more individual name for me. I have often
been called Ann."
"You might be the 'Queen of our Ship of Dreams,'" laughed Lillian.
"That sounds altogether too high and mighty," objected Phyllis. "We
ought to have something nice and chummy."
"We might call you 'Gem,' because it is short for Jemima, and in honor
of these corn muffins, which we call 'gems' in our part of the world,"
added Phil. "We'll think of a name yet. Come on, girls, we must get
to work; there is so much to be done. Lillian, you and I must go up to
the farmhouse to get some supplies this morning. Suppose we take a
long walk this afternoon and explore the woods back of us?"
"We will think of the prettiest name we can for you and another for our
houseboat," declared Lillian as the four girls rose from the table to
go about their various tasks; "then we shall make our report to-night."
It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when the four churns
started on their walk. Miss Jones did not go with them. She was tired
and wished to sit out on the deck of the boat in the sunshine.
"Be back before dark, children," she called out gayly as the girls
climbed up the little embankment. "Remember, you don't know your way
in this country, as you do at old Harborpoint. I shall be uneasy about
you if you aren't back on time."
There were several scattered farmhouses at the top of the hill that
sloped down to the cove of the bay, but back of the farmlands lay a
long stretch of forest. The ground was covered with a carpet of wild
flowers and a few late violets.
Once the chums were fairly in the heart of the woods they did not meet
another traveler. They seemed to have the forest to themselves. They
had no thought of danger in the quiet woods, and Madge and Eleanor, who
had been brought up in the country, were careful to watch the paths
they followed.
They had been in the woods for an hour or more when Lillian, who was
stooping over a clump of big, purple violets, thought she heard a
peculiar sound resembling light footsteps, Whether there was a human
being or an animal near them she could not tell. The footsteps would
run rapidly and then stop abruptly.
"Phil," called Lillian, "I thought I heard something. Did you? Listen
once more. There, did you hear that?"
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