Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid by Amy D. V. Chalmers


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 39

The time had come to tell Mrs. Curtis that she must go back to the
houseboat. She was not sorry to go; she was only sorry to leave her
new friends. During her stay at the hotel Mrs. Curtis had treated
Madge as though she were her own daughter. The imaginative young girl
was completely fascinated with the beautiful, white-haired woman, whose
sad face seemed to indicate that she had suffered some tragedy in her
life. While Madge lay thinking of the most courteous way in which to
announce that she must return to the "Merry Maid" a light knock sounded
on her door. Tom's mother came softly into the room, gowned in an
exquisite afternoon costume of violet organdie and fine lace, which was
very becoming to her white hair and youthful face.

"Are you awake, Madge?" were her first words. "How do you feel?"

Her guest smilingly raised herself from her pillows. "I am awake as
can be, and as well as can be! To tell you the truth, Mrs. Curtis, I
have never been in the least ill from my adventure. I was tired the
day after it happened, but since that time I am afraid I have allowed
you and Tom to believe that I was sick because I liked to be petted and
made much of." Madge laughed frankly at her own confession. "You have
been so good to me, and I do appreciate it, but now I must go home to
my comrades. Eleanor was awfully disappointed to-day when I told her I
was not going back with them this afternoon."

"I wish you would stay with me longer," pleaded Mrs. Curtis, taking the
girl's firm brown hand in hers and looking down at it gravely, as it
lay in her soft white one. She gazed earnestly at Madge's clear-cut,
expressive face. "Tom and I will be lonely without you," she said. "I
want a daughter dreadfully, and Tom needs a sister. If only you were
my own daughter."

Madge sighed happily. "It has been beautiful to pretend that I was
your real daughter. It has been like the games I used to play when I
was a little girl. I have been lying here in the afternoons, when you
thought I was asleep, making up the nicest 'supposes.' I supposed that
I was your real daughter, that I had been lost and you had found me
after many years. Just at first you did not know me, because time had
made such a change in me. But---- Why, Mrs. Curtis, what is the
matter?" There was wonder and concern in Madge's question. "You don't
mind what I have said, do you? I have been making up things to amuse
myself ever since I was a little girl." She looked anxiously into the
face of the older woman. It was very white, and seemed suddenly to
have become drawn and old.

"My dear child, I love to have you tell me of your little dreams and
fancies," said Mrs. Curtis affectionately, laying her hand on Madge's
head. "What made you think I didn't?"

"You looked as though what I said hurt your feelings," returned Madge,
coloring at her own frankness.

"It was only that something you said brought back a painful memory,"
explained the older woman. "I would prefer not to talk of it. Tell
me, is there nothing I can do to induce you to remain with me a little
longer?"

Her guest shook her head. "Thank you," she replied gratefully, "but I
must go back to my chums. It won't be going away, really, for I will
come to see you as often as you like, and you and Tom and Jack must
visit us on the houseboat. I want you to like the other girls _almost_
as well as you do me," smiled Madge. "Please don't like them quite as
well, though. That doesn't sound very generous, but I should like to
feel that I was first in your heart."

"You shall be, my dear." Mrs. Curtis bent and kissed the young girl's
soft cheek. "And to prove just how much I do care for you I wish to
give you something which I hope you will like and keep as a remembrance
of me. I know your uncle and aunt will be willing to let you have this
little gift when they learn of the spirit which prompted the giving of
it." Mrs. Curtis drew from a little lavender and gold bag which she
carried a square, white silk box and laid it in the astonished little
captain's hand.

"What--why--is it for me?" stammered Madge, sitting up suddenly, her
eyes fastened on the box.

"It is for no one else," was the smiling answer. "Shall I open it for
you?"

Mrs. Curtis touched a tiny spring in the white box. It flew open!

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 22nd Dec 2025, 5:29