|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 32
AT THE MERCY OF THE WAVES
"Don't you think it would be perfectly lovely to have a mother as rich
and beautiful as Mrs. Curtis?" asked Madge, as she tied a black velvet
ribbon about her auburn curls and turned her head to see the effect.
She and Phil were dressing for Tom Curtis's sailing party, to which he
had invited them the day before and which was to start within the next
hour.
"Almost any mother is pretty nice, even if she isn't rich or
beautiful," answered Phil loyally. She was wearing a yachting suit of
navy blue while Madge was dressed in white serge. Eleanor, Lillian and
Miss Jones, clad in white linen gowns, were ready and waiting on the
houseboat deck for the arrival of the sailing party. True to his word,
Tom Curtis had brought his mother to call on the four girls the
afternoon of the day before.
"I know," answered Madge slowly. "But sometimes, when I was a very
little girl, I liked to think that perhaps I was a princess in
disguise, and that Uncle and Aunt had never told me of it. I used to
look out of the window and wonder if some day a carriage would drive up
to hear me away to my royal home. That doesn't sound very practical,
does it? But, when one has no memory of father or mother, one can't
help dreaming things. Don't you think Mrs. Curtis is simply
beautiful?" Madge abruptly changed the subject. "Her hair is so soft
and white, and she has such a young face, but she looks as though she
were tired of everything. Persons who have that wonderful, world-weary
look are so interesting," finished Madge, with a sigh. "I am afraid I
shall never have that expression, because I never find time to get
tired of things."
"Come on, Madge," laughed Phil. "You can mourn some other day over not
having an interesting expression."
"Girls," called Lillian, "the Curtis's boat is coming."
"In a minute," answered Madge, giving a final pat to her curls.
"Do hurry along, children. The sailboat is nearly here." This time it
was Miss Jenny Ann's voice. "They signaled us several minutes ago.
They have several other persons on board."
Mrs. Curtis and Tom signaled as they approached the "Merry Maid."
Their guests were the artist, whom the girls had met the day before,
Jack Bolling, and one or two strangers from the big summer hotel. Mike
Muldoon, the owner of the boats, had another sailor on board to help
him. Tom soon transferred the girls and their chaperon from their
craft to his. The party intended to sail down the coast to a point of
land known as Love Point and to eat their luncheon somewhere along the
shore.
Mrs. Curtis sat across from Madge during their sailing trip, but every
now and then she would look over to laugh at one of the young girl's
amusing sallies. It was evident that the little captain of the "Merry
Maid" had found favor in her eyes. Mrs. Curtis had planned a dainty
luncheon, to which the steward at the hotel had given special
attention, even to the sending of a man to serve it. There were
delicious sandwiches of various kinds, chicken and Waldorf salads,
olives, salted nuts, individual ices sent down from Baltimore and
bonbons. It was quite the most elaborate luncheon the girls had ever
eaten and they were rather impressed with both it and the service.
After luncheon the party sat for a long time on the clean, white sand,
laughing and talking gayly. It was a perfect day and everyone was in
the best possible spirits. Later on they divided into little groups.
Lillian and Phil wandered off with Jack Bolling. Eleanor found a
congenial companion in one of the young women guests from the hotel,
while Tom, Miss Jones and Mrs. Curtis sat under a tree with the artist,
watching him sketch. Madge, alone, flitted from one group to another,
a little, restless spirit.
"Why don't you take Miss Morton for a sail, Tom?" suggested his mother.
"You will have time to go a short distance out. We shall not start for
the hotel until four o'clock."
"A good suggestion. Thank you, Mother," cried Tom. "Come on, Miss
Morton."
Madge and Tom went gayly down to the boat. Tom's big setter dog,
Brownie, dashed after them, pleading so hard to be taken aboard that
Tom at last consented to have him, though he gravely assured the animal
that three was a crowd, to which statement Brownie merely gave a joyful
yelp and darted on board without further ceremony.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|