Madge drank the tea obediently, gazing a little less scornfully at the girl who was serving her, her face pale with fright and sympathy. The other girl stood apart at a little distance with a young man. They were both staring at the wet and shivering girls with poorly concealed amusement.

"We are awfully sorry to give you so much trouble," said Madge to the girl with the tea. She was trying to control her feelings when she caught sight of the owner of the small yacht and his friend and her temper got the better of her.

"I am sorry," she repeated, "that we are giving you trouble. But, really, your motor launch had no right to bear down on our boat without blowing its whistle or giving the faintest sign of its approach. It put the whole responsibility of getting out of the way on us."

Madge was sitting beside the old captain. Her direct mode of attack showed that she was feeling more like herself.

"What the young lady says is true," declared Captain Jules with emphasis. "I doubt if you have the faintest legal right to navigate a boat in these waters. If I hadn't happened to walk along down the shore of the bay after these young ladies left me two of them would have been drowned. I'll have to see to it that you keep off this bay if you do any more such mischief as you did this morning."

The young man in a handsome yachting suit worthy of an admiral in the United States Navy frowned angrily at Madge and her champion.

"I say it wasn't my fault that I ran into your little paper boat," he protested angrily. "I gave you plenty of time to get out of my way, but you girls pulled so slowly that we did slide into you. Still, if you will admit that it was your fault and not mine, I will have your old skiff mended, if she isn't too much used up and you can get somebody to tow her back to land for you. I can't; I have enough to carry as it is."

The girl standing beside the young man giggled hysterically. Madge decided that she had heard her high, shrill notes before. Phyllis, Lillian and Eleanor were furiously angry at the young man's retort to Madge and Captain Jules, but they bit their lips and said nothing. They were on his yacht, although they were enforced passengers; it was better not to express their feelings.

But Madge was in a white heat of passion over the young man's boorish retort.

"It was not our fault in the least that we were run down," she said in a low, evenly pitched voice. "We are not willing to take the least bit of the blame. You not only ran into our little boat and sunk her, but you did not take the least trouble to come to our aid when you had not the faintest knowledge whether any one of us could swim. Men in the part of the world where I come from don't do things of that kind. Put your boat back and tow our rowboat to land," ordered Madge imperiously. "We certainly will not allow you to have it mended. Neither my friends nor I wish to accept any kind of recompense from a man who is a coward!"

The word was out. Madge had not meant to use it, but somehow it slipped off her tongue.

"Steady," she heard the old sailor whisper in her ear. He was gazing at her intently, and something in his face calmed the hot tide of her anger. "I am sorry I said you were a coward," she added, with one of her quick repentances. "I don't think you were very brave, but perhaps something may have happened that prevented your coming to our aid."

"Mr. Dennis does not swim very well," the nicer of the two girls explained, sitting down beside Madge. She was blushing and biting her lips. "Mr. Dennis meant to put back as soon as he could. I am Ethel Swann. I received a letter from Mrs. Curtis this morning, who is one of my mother's old friends. She wrote that she and her son would be down a little later to open their cottage, but she hoped that we would meet you girls before she came. I am so sorry that we have met first in such an unfortunate fashion."

"Oh, never mind," interrupted Madge impatiently. "If you are Ethel Swann, Mrs. Curtis has talked to us about you. We are very glad to know you, I am sure."

"These are my friends, Roy Dennis and Mabel Farrar," Ethel went on, her face flushing. The four girls bowed coldly. Mabel Farrar acknowledged the introduction by a stiff nod. The young man took off his cap for the first time when Madge introduced Captain Jules.

"Run your boat along the side of the overturned skiff and I'll tie her on for you," ordered Captain Jules quietly. "I think I had better go along back to land with you."

Roy Dennis, who was a little more frightened at his deed than he cared to own, was glad to obey the captain's order.

Just as the girls were landing from the launch Mabel Farrar's foot slipped and she gave a shrill scream. Instantly the girls recognized the voice which they had heard the night before condemning them to social oblivion.

Although Captain Jules had only a short time before positively refused the invitation of the girls to come aboard the "Merry Maid" to pay them a visit, it was he who handed each girl from the deck of Roy Dennis's boat into the arms of their frightened chaperon. Finally he crossed over to the deck of the houseboat himself, bearing little Tania in his arms and looking in his wet tarpaulins like old King Neptune rising from the brine.

Captain Jules was made to stay to luncheon on board the houseboat. There was no getting away from the determined young women. In his heart of hearts the old sailor had no desire to go. Something inspired him with the desire to know more of these charming girls.

When the girls had put on dry clothing they led Captain Jules all over the houseboat, showing him each detail of it. He insisted that the "Merry Maid" was as trim a little craft as he had ever seen afloat.

After luncheon, at which the captain devoured six of Miss Jenny Ann's best cornbread gems, he sat down in a chair on the houseboat deck, holding Tania in his arms. He talked most to Phyllis, but he seldom took his eyes off Madge's face. Sometimes he frowned at her; now and then he smiled. Once or twice Madge found herself blushing and wondering why her rescuer looked at her so hard, but she was too interested to care very much.

She sat down in her favorite position on a pile of cushions on the deck, with her head resting against Miss Jenny Ann's knee and her eyes on the water. "Do tell us, Captain Jules," she pleaded, "something about your life as a pearl-fisher. You must have had wonderful experiences. We would dearly love to hear about them, wouldn't we, girls?"

The girls chorused an enthusiastic "Yes," which included Miss Jenny Ann.

Captain Jules laughed. "Haven't you ever heard that it is dangerous to get an old sea dog started on his adventures? You never can tell when he will leave off," he teased, stroking Tania's black hair. "But I wouldn't be surprised if Tania would like to hear how once I was nearly swallowed whole, diving suit and all, by a giant shark. I was hunting for pearls in those days off the Philippine Islands. I had been tearing some shells from the side of a great rock when, of a sudden, I felt a strange presence before I saw anything. I might have known it was time to expect trouble, because the little fish that are usually floating about in the water had all disappeared. A creepy feeling came over me. I was cold as ice inside my diving suit. Then I turned and looked up. Just a few feet in front of me was a giant shark that seemed about twenty-five feet long. He was an evil monster. The upper part of his body was a dirty, dark green and his fins were black. You never saw a diving suit, did you? So you don't know that all the body is covered up but the hands. I tucked my hands under my breastplate in a hurry. It didn't seem to me that a pearl diver would be much good without any hands. Well, the great fish made a sweep with its tail, and in a jiffy he and I were face to face. I stood still for about a second. I held my breath, my heart pounding like a hammer. Nearer and nearer the monster came swimming toward me, with its shovel nose pointing directly at the glass that covered my face. I couldn't stand it. I threw up my hands. I yelled way down at the bottom of the sea with no one to hear me. There was a swirl of water, a cloud of mud, and my enemy vanished. He didn't like the noise any better than I liked him."

The girls breathed sighs of relief. The captain chuckled. "Oh, a diver is not in real danger from a shark," he went on, "his suit protects him. But there are plenty of other dangers. Maybe I'll tell you some of them at another time. Why, I declare, it is nearly sunset. You don't know it, children, but the bottom of the tropic sea has colors in it as beautiful as the lights in that sky. The sea-bottom, where the diver is apt to find pearl shells, is covered with all sorts of sea growths—sponges twelve feet high, coral cups like inverted mushrooms, sea-fans twenty feet broad."

As the old diver talked, the girls could see the magic coral wreaths, glowing rose color and crimson, the tall ferns and sea flowers that waved with the movement of the water as the earth flowers move to the stirring of the wind. And there in the land of the mermaids, hidden between wonderful shells of mother-of-pearl, lie the jewels that are the purest and most beautiful in the world.

Madge's chin was in her hands. She did not hear the old captain get up and say good-bye. She was wishing, with all her heart, that she, too, might go down to the bottom of the sea to view its treasures.

"Madge," Phil interrupted her reverie, "Captain Jules is going."

Madge put her soft, warm hands into the big man's hard, powerful ones. "Good-bye," she said gratefully. "There is something I wish to tell you, but I won't until another time."

Miss Jenny Ann stared thoughtfully after the giant figure as Captain Jules left the houseboat and strode up the shore in search of a small skiff to take him home.

"You girls have made an unusual friend," she said slowly to Madge. "In many ways Captain Jules is rough. He may be uneducated in the wisdom of schools and books, but he is a great man with a great heart."

Before Madge went to bed that night she wrote Tom Curtis. She told him how sorry they all were that he could not come at once to Cape May. She also described the day's adventures. She made as light of their accident as possible, but she ended her letter by asking Tom if he would not send her a book about pearl fishing.



CHAPTER X

THE GOODY-GOODY YOUNG MAN

"Philip Holt has come, Madge," announced Phyllis Alden a few days later. "He is staying at one of the hotels until Mrs. Curtis and Tom arrive to open their cottage. He has already been calling on a number of Mrs. Curtis's friends here. Now he has condescended to come to see us. Miss Jenny Ann says we must invite him to luncheon; so close that book, if you please, and come help us to entertain him. I am sure you will be so pleased to see him."

Madge frowned, but closed her book obediently. "What a bore, Phil! I was just reading this fascinating book on pearl-fishing. A few valuable pearls have been found in these waters. There was one which was sold to a princess for twenty-five hundred dollars. Who knows but the 'Merry Maid' may even now be reposing on a bank of pearls! Dear me, here is that tiresome Mr. Holt! Of course, we must be nice with him on Mrs. Curtis's account. I hope she and Tom will soon come along. Let us take Mr. Holt with us to the golf club this afternoon. We promised Ethel Swann to come and she won't mind our bringing him."

The girls were not altogether surprised that the young people whom they had lately met at Cape May were divided into two sets. The one had taken the girls under their protection and seemed to like them immensely. The other, headed by Mabel Farrar and Roy Dennis, treated them with cool contempt. But the girls felt able to take care of themselves. Not one of them even inquired what story Mr. Dennis and Miss Farrar had told about their memorable meeting on the water.

The Cape May golf course stretches over miles of beautiful downs and the clubhouse is the gathering place for society at this summer resort.

Ethel Swann bore off Lillian and Eleanor to introduce them to some of her friends, and the three girls followed the course of two of the players over the links.

Philip Holt was plainly impressed by the smartly-dressed women and girls whom he saw about him. He was a tall, thin young man with sandy hair and he wore spectacles. He insisted that Madge and Phyllis should not forget to introduce him as the friend of Mrs. Curtis, who expected him to be her guest later on. Indeed, Philip Holt talked so constantly and so intimately of Mrs. Curtis that Madge had to stifle a little pang of jealousy. She had supposed, when she was in New York City, that Mrs. Curtis, who was very generous, only took a friendly interest in Philip Holt and his work among the New York poor, but to-day Philip Holt gave her to understand that Mrs. Curtis was as kind to him as though he were a member of her family. And Madge wondered wickedly to herself whether Tom Curtis would be pleased to have him for a brother. She determined to interview Tom on the subject as soon as he should return from Chicago.

Later in the afternoon Madge and Phyllis were surprised to see Roy Dennis and Mabel Farrar come down the golf clubhouse steps and walk across the lawn toward them, smiling with apparent friendliness. Madge's resentful expression softened. She did not bear malice, and she felt that she had said more to Roy Dennis about his treatment of them than she should have done. She, therefore, bowed pleasantly. Phil followed suit. To their amazement they were greeted with a frozen stare by the newcomers, who walked to where the two girls were standing without paying the least attention to the latter. Madge's color rose to the very roots of her hair. Phil's black eyes flashed, but she kept them steadily fixed on the girl and man.

"How do you do, Mr. Holt?" asked Mabel in bland tones, addressing the girls' companion. "I believe I am right in calling you Mr. Holt. I have heard that you were a friend of Mrs. Curtis and her son. This is my friend, Roy Dennis. We are so pleased to meet any of dear Mrs. Curtis's real friends. We should like to have you take tea with us."

Philip Holt looked perplexed. He opened his mouth to introduce Madge and Phyllis to Miss Farrar, but the girls' expressions told the story.

Miss Farrar and Mr. Dennis had purposely excluded the two girls from the conversation.

For the fraction of a second Philip Holt wavered. Mabel Farrar was smartly dressed. Roy Dennis looked the rich, idle society man that he was. Moneyed friends were always the most useful in Mr. Holt's opinion, he therefore turned to Miss Farrar with, "I shall be only too pleased to accompany you."

"You'll excuse me," he turned condescendingly to Madge and Phil, "but Mrs. Curtis's friends wish me to have tea with them."

Madge smiled at the young man with such frank amusement that he was embarrassed. "Oh, yes, we will excuse you," she said lightly. "Please don't give another thought to us. Miss Alden and I wish you to consult your own pleasure. I am sure that you will find it in drinking tea!" She turned away, the picture of calm indifference, although she had a wicked twinkle in her eye.

"Well, if that wasn't the rudest behavior all around that I ever saw in my life!" burst out Phil indignantly after the disagreeable trio had departed. "Mrs. Curtis or no Mrs. Curtis, I don't think we should be expected to speak to that ill-bred Mr. Holt again. The idea of his marching off with that girl and man after the way they treated us! I shall tell Mrs. Curtis just how he behaved as soon as I see her, then she won't think him so delightful."

Madge put her arm inside Phil's. "You had better not mention it to Mrs. Curtis, Phil. Mrs. Curtis is the dearest person in the world, but she is so lovely and so rich that she is used always to having her own way. She thinks that we girls are prejudiced against this Mr. Holt because he said the things he did about Tania. By the way, I wonder what the little witch has against him? I mean to ask her some day. But let's not trouble about Philip Holt any more. He is just a toady. I don't care what he says or does. We have done our duty by him for this afternoon at least. He won't join us again. Let's go over to that lovely hill and have a good, old-fashioned talk."

Phil's face cleared. After all, she and Madge could get along much, better without troublesome outsiders.

"Isn't it a wonderful afternoon, Phil?" asked the little captain after they had climbed the little hill and were seated on a grassy knoll. "We can see the ocean over there! Wouldn't you like to be swimming down there under the water, where it is so cool and lovely and there would be nothing to trouble one?"

"What a water-baby you are," smiled Phil, giving her chum's arm a soft pressure. "I sometimes think that you must have come out of a sea-shell. I suppose you are thinking of the old pearl diver again."

"Phil," demanded Madge abruptly, "have you ever thought of what profession you would have liked to follow if you had been born a boy instead of a girl?"

"I do not have to think to answer that," replied Phyllis, "I know. If I were a boy, I should study to become a physician, like my father; but even though I am a girl, I am going to study medicine just the same. As soon as we get through college I shall begin my course."

"Phil," Madge's voice sounded unusually serious, "don't set your heart too much, dear, on my going to college with you in the fall. I don't know it positively, but I think that Uncle is having some business trouble. He and Aunt have been worried for the past year about some stocks they own. I shan't feel that I have any right to let them send me to college unless I can make up my mind that I shall be willing to teach to earn my living afterward. And I can't teach, Phil, dear. I should never make a successful teacher," ended Madge with a sigh.

"I can't imagine you as a teacher," smiled Phil, "but I am sure that you will marry before you are many years older."

"Marry!" protested Madge indignantly. "Why do you think I shall marry? Why, I was wishing this very minute that I were a man so that I could set out on a voyage of discovery and sail around the world in a little ship of my own. Or, think, one might be a pearl-diver, or lead some exciting life like that. Now, Phil Alden, don't you go and arrange for me just to marry and keep house and never have a bit of fun or any excitement in my whole life!"

Phyllis laughed teasingly. "Oh, you will have plenty of excitement, Madge dear, wherever you are or whatever you do. Don't you remember how Miss Betsey used to say that she knew something was going to happen whenever you were about? I suppose you would like to be a captain in the Navy like your father, so that you could spend all your time on the sea."

"No," returned Madge, "I should want a ship of my own. I wouldn't like to be a captain in the Navy. There, you always have to do just what you are told to do, and you know, Phil, that obedience is not my strong point." The little captain laughed and shook her russet head. "You see, Phil, I think that if I could go around the world, perhaps in some far-away land I would find my father waiting for me."

For several minutes the two chums were silent. At last Phil leaned forward and gave Madge's arm a gentle pinch. "Wake up, dear," she laughed, "perhaps some day you will own that little ship and go around the world in it. Just now, however, we had better go on to the houseboat. I believe Nellie and Lillian are going to wait at the golf club until the last mail comes in, so they can bring our letters along home with them. We must say good-bye to that nice Ethel Swann. She is a dear, in spite of her ill-bred friends."

Phyllis and Madge found Miss Jenny Ann sitting in a steamer chair on the houseboat deck exchanging fairy stories with Tania. The little girl knew almost as many as did her chaperon, but Tania's stories were so full of her own odd fancies that it was hard to tell from what source they had come.

"Do you know the story of 'The Little Tin Soldier,' Tania?" Miss Jenny Ann had just asked. "He was the bravest little soldier in the world, because he bore all kinds of misfortunes and never complained."

With a whirl Tania was out of Miss Jenny Ann's lap and into Madge's arms. The child was devoted to each member of the houseboat party, but she was Madge's ardent adorer. She liked to play that she was the little captain's Fairy Godmother, and that she could grant any wish that Madge might make.

Phil, Madge and Tania sat down at Miss Jenny Ann's feet to hear more about "The Brave Little Tin Soldier." Tania huddled close to Madge, her black head resting against the older girl's curls, as she listened to the harrowing adventures that befell the Tin Soldier.

The sun was sinking. Away over the water the world seemed rose colored, but the shadows were deepening on the land. Phil espied Lillian and Eleanor coming toward the houseboat. Lillian waved a handful of white envelopes, but Eleanor walked more slowly and did not glance up toward her friends.

Miss Jenny Ann rose hurriedly. "I must go in to see to our dinner," she announced. "Phil, after you have spoken to the girls, will you come in to help me? Madge may stay to look after Tania."

The little captain was absorbed in a quiet twilight dream, and as Tania was in her lap she did not get up when Phil went forward to meet Lillian and Eleanor.

Instantly Phil realized that something was the matter with Nellie. Eleanor's face was white and drawn and there were tears in her gentle, brown eyes. Lillian also looked worried and sympathetic, but was evidently trying to appear cheerful.

"What is the matter, Eleanor? Has any one hurt your feelings?" asked Phil immediately. Eleanor was the youngest of the girls and always the one to be protected. Phyllis guessed that perhaps some one of the unpleasant acquaintances of Roy Dennis and Mabel Farrar might have been unkind to her.

But Eleanor shook her head dumbly.

"Nellie has had some bad news from home," answered Lillian, tenderly putting her arm about Eleanor. "Perhaps it isn't so bad as she thinks."

Madge overheard Lillian's speech and, lifting Tania from her lap, sprang to her feet.

"Nellie, darling, what is it? Tell me at once!" she demanded. "If Uncle and Aunt are ill, we must go to them at once."

"It isn't so bad as that, Madge," answered Eleanor, finding her voice; "only Mother has written to tell us that Father has lost a great deal of money. He has had to mortgage dear old 'Forest House,' and if he doesn't get a lot more money by fall, 'Forest House' will have to be sold."

Nellie broke down. The thought of having to give up her dear old Virginia home, that had been in their family for five generations, was more than she could bear.

Madge kissed Eleanor gently. In the face of great difficulties Madge was not the harum-scarum person she seemed. "Don't worry too much, Nellie," she urged. "If Uncle and Aunt are well, then the loss of the money isn't so dreadful. Somehow, I don't believe we shall have to give up 'Forest House.' It would be too frightful! Perhaps Uncle will find the money in time to save it, or we shall get it in some way. I am nearly grown now. I ought to be able to help. Anyhow, I don't mean to be an expense to Uncle and Aunt any more after this summer." Madge's face clouded, although she tried to conceal her dismay. "Do Uncle and Aunt want us to leave the houseboat and come home at once?"

Phil's and Lillian's faces were as long and as gloomy as their other chums' at this suggestion.

But Eleanor shook her head firmly. "No; Father says positively that he does not wish us to leave the houseboat until our holiday is over. It is not costing us very much and he wishes us to have a good time this summer, so that we can bear whatever happens next winter."

No one had noticed little Tania while the houseboat girls were talking. Her eyes were bigger and blacker than ever, and as Madge turned to go into the cabin she saw that there were tears in them.

"What is it, Tania?" putting her arms about the quaint child.

"Did you say that you didn't have all the money you wanted?" inquired Tania anxiously. "I didn't know that people like you ever needed money. I thought that all poor people lived in slums and took in washing like old Sal."

Madge laughed. "I don't suppose the people in the tenements are as poor as we are sometimes, Tania, because they don't need so many things. But don't worry your head about me, little Fairy Godmother. I am sure that you will bring me good luck."



CHAPTER XI

THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE

"Madge, I am afraid that you and the girls are not having as good a time at Cape May as I had hoped you would have," remarked Mrs. Curtis to the little captain about a week later as they strolled along the beautiful ocean boulevard that overlooked the sea. Only the day before Mrs. Curtis and Tom had returned from Chicago. Just behind them, Lillian, Miss Jenny Ann, Phyllis, Tom Curtis and Mrs. Curtis's protege, Philip Holt, loitered along the beach. They were too far away to overhear the conversation of the two women.

"On the contrary, we are having a perfectly beautiful time," answered Madge, her face radiant with the pleasure of her surroundings. "I think Cape May is one of the loveliest places in the whole world! And we girls have met the most splendid old sea captain. He has the dearest, snuggest little house up the bay! He was once a deep-sea diver and knows the most fascinating stories about the treasures of the sea." Madge ceased speaking. She could tell from her friend's slightly bored expression that Mrs. Curtis was not interested in the story of a common sailor.

"Yes, Madge, I know about all that," Mrs. Curtis returned a little coldly. "What I meant is that I fear you girls are not enjoying the social life of Cape May, which is what I looked forward to for you. I do wish, dear, that you cared more for society and less for such people as this old sailor and a tenement child like Tania. I doubt if this man is a fit associate for you."

Madge's blue eyes darkened. She thought of the splendid old sailor, with his great strength and gentle manners, his knowledge of the world and his fine simplicity, and of queer, loving little Tania, but she wisely held her peace. "I am sorry, too, that I don't like society more if you wish it," she replied sweetly. "I do like the society of clever, agreeable people, but not—I like Ethel Swann and her friends immensely," she ended. "And, please, don't say anything against my old pearl diver, Mrs. Curtis, until you see him. I am sure that you and Tom will think that he is splendid."

Mrs. Curtis looked searchingly at Madge, and Madge returned her gaze without lowering her eyes. Mrs. Curtis's face softened. She found it hard to scold her favorite, but she had been very much vexed at the story that Philip Holt had repeated to her of Madge's escapades at Cape May, and how she accused Roy Dennis of cowardice when he had taken her and her friends on his boat after Madge's and Phil's own heedlessness had caused their skiff to be overturned. Somehow, the tale of the throwing of the ball on board Roy Dennis's yacht and of frightening Mabel Farrar had also gone abroad in Cape May. Lillian had confided the anecdote to Ethel Swann under promise of the greatest secrecy. The story had seemed to Ethel too ridiculous to keep to herself, so she had repeated it to another friend, after demanding the same promise that Lillian had exacted from her. And so the story had traveled and grown until it was a very mischievous tale that Philip Holt had recounted to Mrs. Curtis, taking care that Tom Curtis was not about when he told it.

Mrs. Curtis thought Madge too old for such practical jokes. She also believed that Madge should have more dignity and self-control. She loved her very dearly, and she wished her to come to live with her as her daughter after her own, daughter, Madeleine, had married, but Mrs. Curtis was determined that the little captain should learn to be less impetuous and more conventional.

"Philip Holt has told you something about me, hasn't he, Mrs. Curtis?" asked Madge meekly, hiding the flash in her eyes by lowering her lids.

"Philip told me very little. He is the soul of honor," answered Mrs. Curtis quickly. "You are absurdly prejudiced against him. But with the little that he told me and what I have gathered from other sources, I feel that you have been most indiscreet. I can't help thinking that the various things that have happened may be laid at your door, and that the other girls have just stood by you, as they always do."

Madge bit her lips. "Whatever has occurred that you don't like is my fault, Mrs. Curtis," she confessed, "and Phil, Lillian and Nellie have stood by me. I am sorry that you are angry."

The other young people were coming closer. Not for worlds would Madge have had them overhear her conversation with Mrs. Curtis. She was too proud and too hurt to ask Mrs. Curtis just what Philip Holt had said against her. Neither would she retaliate against him by telling her friend of his rudeness.

Mrs. Curtis put one arm about Madge. "It is all right, my dear," she said, softening a little, "but you must promise me that you will not do such harum-scarum things again, and that you will try to keep your temper." Mrs. Curtis was on the point of asking Madge to give up her acquaintance with the sailor and not to see the man again, but she knew that her young friend was feeling a little hurt and no doubt resentful toward her, so she put off making her request until a later time.

"Tania has behaved very well, so far, hasn't she, Madge?" Mrs. Curtis tactfully changed the subject. "I confess I am surprised. Philip Holt assured me that the child was continually in mischief in the tenement neighborhood where she lives. When he took her into the neighborhood house to try to help her she positively stole something. I am afraid Tania's mother was not the woman you think she was; she was only a cheap little actress, a dancer." Mrs. Curtis glanced at her companion. Madge was eyeing her seriously.

"It isn't like you, Mrs. Curtis, dear, to say things against people. Philip Holt must have——" Madge stopped abruptly. At the same time Tom Curtis came up from behind to join his mother and the girl.

"Come on, Madge, and have a race with me across the sands," he urged. "Mother will be trying to make you so grown-up that we can't have any sport at all. Besides, you are looking pale. I am sure you need exercise. There is a crowd over there in front of the music pavilion. I will wager a five-pound box of candy that I can beat you to it. Philip Holt will entertain Mother. She likes him better than she does the rest of us, anyhow, because he devotes his time to good works and to working good people," added Tom teasingly, under his breath.

While Tom was talking Madge darted off across the sands. She never would get over her love of running, she felt sure, until she was old and rheumatic. The color came back to her cheeks and the laughter to her eyes.

Tom was close behind her. "Madge Morton, you didn't give me a fair start," he protested, "you rushed away before I was ready. I thought you always played fair?"

Madge dropped into a walk. "I do try to, Tom," she answered more earnestly than Tom had expected. His remark had been made only in fun. "You believe in me, don't you, Tom?" she added pleadingly.

"Now and forever, Madge, through thick and thin," answered Tom steadily.

They had now come up nearer the crowd of people on the beach. Up on a grand stand a band was playing an Italian waltz, and an eager crowd had gathered, apparently to listen to the music.

But the two young people soon saw that on the hard sand a child was dancing. Tom stopped outside the circle of watchers, but Madge went forward into it. She had at once recognized little Tania! Eleanor had been left on the houseboat to take care of the child, but Eleanor was now nowhere to be seen, and her charge had wandered into mischief.

Tania was dancing in her most bewitching and wonderful fashion. Madge could not help feeling a little embarrassed pride in her. The child was moving like a flower swayed by the wind. She poised first on one foot, then on the other, then flitted forward on both pointed toes, her thin, eager arms outstretched, curving and bending with the rhythm of the music. She wore her best white dress, the pride of her life, which Eleanor had lately made for her. On her head she had placed a wreath of wild flowers, which she must have woven for herself. They were like a fairy crown on her dark head. With the love of bright colors, which she must have inherited from some Italian ancestor, she had twisted a bright scarlet sash about her waist.

Again Madge saw that Tania was utterly unconscious of the audience about her. She looked neither to the right nor to the left, but straight upward to the turquoise-blue sky.

How different Tania's audience to-day from the crowd of people that had watched her on the street corner when Eleanor and Madge had first seen her! Yet these gay society folk were even more fascinated by the child's wonderful art. They could better appreciate her remarkable dancing.

Tania did not even see her beloved Madge, who was silently watching her. Tania's usually pale cheeks glowed as scarlet as her sash. Unconsciously the little girl's movements were like those of a butterfly, a-flutter with the joy of the sunshine and new life.

The music stopped suddenly and with it Tania's dance ceased as abruptly. She stood poised for a single instant on one dainty foot, with her graceful arms still swaying above her flower-crowned head. Her audience watched her breathlessly, for the effect of the child's grace had been almost magical.

"Wasn't that a wonderful performance?" whispered Tom in Madge's ear. "The child is an artist! Where do you suppose she learned to dance like that?"

But Tania had come back to earth in a brief second. To Madge's mystification, Tania started about among the people who had been watching her performance with her small hands clasped together like a cup.

The child courtesied shyly to a fat old lady. Her gesture was unmistakable. The woman rummaged in her chain pocket-book and dropped a silver quarter into Tania's outstretched hands. The next onlooker was more generous. Tania's eyes shone as she felt the size and weight of a big silver dollar.

Few people in the Cape May crowd knew who Tania was, or whence she had come. They probably thought that the object of the dance had been to earn money.

For a few moments Madge had been paralyzed by Tania's peculiar actions. She did not realize what they meant. In this lapse of time the rest of their party joined them.

It was the expression on Mrs. Curtis's face that made Madge appreciate what Tania was doing.

"What on earth is Tania about?" exclaimed Lillian in puzzled tones. She saw the child standing before a young man who was evidently teasing her and refusing her request for money.

"She has been dancing like a monkey with a hand organ," answered Philip Holt scornfully. "I am afraid Cape May people will hardly understand it. It looks as though the young women on the 'Merry Maid' were in need of money." The young man laughed as though his last remark had been intended for a joke.

"None of that talk, Holt." Madge caught Tom's angry tone as she hurried forward to Tania. The little captain could have cried with mortification and embarrassment. In the crowd of curious onlookers she caught sight of Mabel Farrar's and Roy Dennis's sneering faces.

"Tania!" she cried sharply. "What in the world are you doing? Stop taking that money at once!"

Tania glanced around and discovered Madge. Instead of looking ashamed of herself, the child's face grew radiant. "Madge," she cried, in a high voice that could be heard all about them, "it is all for you!"

Tania rushed forward with her outstretched hands overflowing with silver.

Madge could have sunk through the sands for shame. Mrs. Curtis's face flamed with anger and chagrin. She might have been able to explain to her friends that Tania was only a street child and knew no better than to dance for money; but how could she ever explain the remark to Madge? It looked as though Madge had been a party to Tania's dancing and begging.

Madge was overcome with embarrassment and humiliation. She knew that she must, for the minute, appear like a beggar to the crowd of Cape May people. For just that instant she would have liked to repulse Tania, to have thrust the child and her money away from her before every one. But a glance at Tania's eager, happy face restrained her. She put her arm protectingly about the little girl, hiding her in the shelter of her body. "I don't want the money, Tania," she whispered. "It wasn't right for you to have taken it from these people."

"Don't you want it?" faltered Tania. "I thought you said last night that you and Eleanor were very poor, and that you needed some money very much. All the time I was in bed last night I thought of what your Fairy Godmother could do to help you. I know how to do but one thing—to dance as my mother taught me. How can it be wrong to take the money from people? I have often done it in New York. They only gave it to me because they liked my dancing." Madge could feel Tania's hot tears on her hands.

She clasped Tania closer. "It isn't exactly wrong, Tania; I was mistaken. It was just different. I will have to explain it to you afterward. Now we must give the money back to the people again."

Holding tight to Tania's hand, Madge walked among the group of strangers, explaining Tania's actions as best she could without hurting the little girl's feelings. It was one of the hardest things that the proud little captain had ever been called upon to do. But a part of the crowd had scattered. It was not possible to find them all and return their silver. Tania was too puzzled and heart-broken to continue her errand long. She did not understand why Madge had refused to take her gift, which she thought she had fairly earned. Finally she could hold back her sobs no longer. Dropping her few remaining nickels and dimes on the sand she broke away from Madge's clasp and ran like a little wild creature away from everyone.

Madge stopped for just a second among her friends before following Tania.

"You see, Madge," remarked Mrs. Curtis coldly, "Tania is quite impossible. I knew the child would get you into difficulties, and it is just as I feared. She must be sent away at once."

But Madge shook her head with a decision that was unmistakable.

"No," she answered quietly, "Tania shall not be sent away. None of you understand, and I can't explain it to you now, but Tania thought she was doing something for Nellie and me. She was foolish, of course, and I will see that she never does it again."

With her head held high, Madge hurried away in pursuit of her Fairy Godmother.



CHAPTER XII

"THE ANCHORAGE"

Madge was alone in the "Water Witch," which had been mended and was as good as new. She had just come from an interview with Mrs. Curtis, in which she had tried to make her friend understand the reason for Tania's behavior of the day before. Mrs. Curtis, however, would not take the little captain's view of the matter. She dwelt on the fact that Tania had slipped away from the houseboat without letting Eleanor know of it, and that she was a naughty and disobedient child.

Madge also believed that Mrs. Curtis no longer loved her so dearly as in the early days of their acquaintance. The young girl was sure that some influence was being brought to bear to prejudice her friend against her. But what could she do? Philip Holt was trying to destroy the affection Mrs. Curtis felt for Madge in order to ingratiate himself. It looked as though he were going to succeed. Madge was too proud to ask questions or to accuse Philip Holt with deliberately trying to influence her friend against her. Although she was only a young girl, she realized that love does not amount to very much in this world unless it has faith and sympathy behind it. So long as she had done nothing she knew to be wrong, and for which she should make an apology, she could only wait to see if Mrs. Curtis's affection would be restored to her or cease altogether.

As usual, when she was troubled, the impulse came to her to be alone on the water. She had explained to Miss Jenny Ann that she might be gone for several hours, so there was no immediate reason why she should return to the houseboat. The other girls were yachting with some Cape May friends.

Madge rowed her boat up the bay toward the home of the old sailor. She was not far from the very place where Captain Jules had rescued Tania and her a short while before. She thought of the strange-looking beam sticking up out of the sandy bottom of the bay on which Tania's dress had caught. It had certainly looked like the broken mast of an old ship. She determined to ask Captain Jules if any wrecks had recently occurred near that part of the bay, and concluded that she would row up to the sailor's house for the express purpose of asking him this question. Of course, this was only an excuse. She was deeply anxious to call on the old sailor again and, if possible, persuade him to keep his promise to her to show her his diving suit, and to tell her more of his strange experiences at the bottom of the sea.

Captain Jules was sitting in his favorite place on the big rock just by the water in front of his house. He was mending the sail of his fishing boat.

Madge's boat came round a slight curve in the bay, dancing toward him. This time Captain Jules spied his guest and saluted her as he would have greeted a superior officer.

The little captain blushed prettily as she returned his salute in her best naval fashion.

The old captain looked hurriedly toward his small house. There was no sight or sound of any one about. He seemed uncomfortable for a moment, then his face cleared. His deep blue eyes gleamed and his mouth set squarely. "Coming ashore to make me a call, Miss Madge?" he asked invitingly.

Madge nodded. "If I shan't be in your way. You must let me just sit there on the rock by you. I have been reading a perfectly thrilling book about pearl-divers," she announced as soon as she was comfortably settled, "but none of the stories were as thrilling as the ones you told us. The book said that pearls had been found in New Jersey. I wonder if you have ever thought of diving down to the bottom of this bay to see if it holds any treasures?"

The sailor was studying the girl's face so earnestly that he forgot to answer her.

"Oh, yes, I have thought of it," he replied a little later, smiling at his guest. "A man never wholly forgets his trade. But what a taste you have for sea yarns, little lady! I half-way think, now, that if you had not been born a girl you might have followed the sea for your calling."

"I should have loved it best of anything in the world," answered Madge fervently, gazing at the beautiful expanse of sunny, blue water. "I never feel as much at home anywhere as I do on the sea. You see," she continued confidingly, "I have a reason for loving the water. My father was a sailor. He was a captain in the United States Navy once."

"'A captain in the United States Navy,'" Captain Jules repeated huskily. "I thought so. I thought so."

"Why?" asked Madge wonderingly.

Captain Jules pulled his needle slowly through a heavy piece of sail cloth. It must have stuck, he was so long about it, and his big hands fumbled it so clumsily.

"Oh, because of your liking for the water, Miss Madge," he returned quietly. "You see, there are two great loves born in the hearts of men and women that you never can get away from. The one is the love of the soil and the other is the love of the sea. No matter what your life is, if you have those two passions in you, you've got to get back to the country or to the water when your chance comes. But why do you say that your father was once a captain in the United States Navy? Is he dead?"

"I am afraid so," replied Madge faintly. Of late she was beginning to believe that her uncle and aunt, Mrs. Curtis and all her older friends were right. If her father were not dead in all these long years, surely he would have tried to find her. He would have sought to discover some news of the daughter whom he had left when she was only a baby.

Captain Jules seemed about to say something, then, changed his mind. He shook his great, shaggy, gray head and looked at Madge tenderly. "Is your mother living?" he inquired.

"No, she died soon after my father went away to join his ship on his last voyage," Madge went on sadly, her eyes filling with tears. She was half tempted to tell the old sailor her father's story, then decided to reserve it until some future day when she felt that she knew him better. In spite of her liking for the old sea captain, she realized that she had hardly known him long enough to make him her confidant.

Captain Jules continued to sew. He opened his mouth, to speak once or twice and then closed it again. Finally he asked Madge huskily, "What was your father's name, child?"

"Captain Robert Morton," replied Madge slowly. "He was from Virginia. If I knew him to be alive, I'd be the happiest girl in the world."

Captain Jules cast a peculiar glance in her direction which Madge did not see.

"My dear little mate," he said slowly, "some day a young man will come along who will be far more to you than any old father could have been. But what made your father go away? If he was a captain in the Navy, what made him resign his command?"

"I can't tell you that to-day, Captain Jules. Perhaps I'll tell you some day when I know you better; in fact, I am sure I shall tell you. Perhaps when I do tell you I shall ask you to do me a great favor. Perhaps I shall ask you to help me hunt for him. I'll tell you a secret. Uncle and Aunt have been good to me and I love them dearly, but I want my own father, and I can't, I won't, believe he is dead. That is, not until I have absolute proof."

"Little girl!" exclaimed Captain Jules in such a strange voice that Madge was startled, "I promise you that I'll help you find him." Then in a calmer tone of voice he said: "I told you that I would show you my diver's suit. If you will wait on my porch I will go around inside the house to see if I can find it."

He rose hastily and disappeared into the house, leaving Madge to wonder why the few words she had spoken concerning her father had affected the old sea captain so strangely.



Chapter XIII

TANIA'S NEMESIS

Captain Jules was gone a long time, but Madge did not mind waiting for him. She loved the odd house with its roof shaped like three sails and its restful name, "The Anchorage."

When Captain Jules came back with the great suit his face was pale, almost haggard, but he was smiling good-humoredly. "Come, stand over here by this window while I show you my old togs. I haven't looked at this diving suit myself for several years."

Madge was too much interested in the diving dress to glance in at the captain's window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the inside of the snug little house that she had not yet been invited to enter.

The diving suit was much lighter than she had expected to find it. It weighed only about twenty pounds. It was made of water-proof material and had a large helmet of copper with great circular glasses in front that looked like goggle eyes.

Captain Jules explained that there were two lines with which the diver communicated with the outside world. The one was the air line, and it was used to pump air down to the man below in the water. The life line was usually hitched around the diver's waist. This line was let out to any depth the diver required, and by pulling on it the diver could signal to the men who followed his course: one jerk, pull up; two, more air; three, lower the bag. Madge was utterly fascinated with the netted bag, made of rope, that Captain Jules showed her. He told her that the pearl-diver always carried a bag to hold the treasures that he finds at the bottom of the sea. To her vivid imagination, the empty bag was even now filled with shining pearls, the rarest treasures of the sea.

The young girl persuaded Captain Jules to let her dress up in his diver's suit, when she stumbled about the veranda in it, her gay laughter mingling with the captain's deep chuckles of delight.

"O Captain Jules!" she pleaded, "do take me down to the bottom of the sea with you. I have always wanted to be a mermaid, and this may be the only chance I shall ever have. 'Only divers know of things below, of water's green and fishes' sheen,'" she chanted gayly.

The old sea captain gazed at Madge, breathing a deep sigh of satisfaction. "I believe you have the courage to do it if I were to let you try," he murmured. "It comes nearer to convincing me than anything else."

"Captain Jules," continued the girl earnestly, "please, please let's go down to the bottom of this bay. You could take me with you and then there wouldn't be any danger. We have been down together without diving suits and here we are safe and sound on land again! You said you thought there might be pearls in the oyster beds of this bay. We could look, at any rate. I saw the most wonderful things when I was searching for Tania. It seemed as though her dress was caught on the broken spar of an old ship, though, of course, I couldn't be sure. Have there been many wrecks in this bay? Do you suppose it was a ship's spar?"

"There are always wrecks on the water, child. And you mustn't be talking nonsense about diving down in this bay along with me," answered Captain Jules severely. He kept his eyes fastened on his diving suit with an affectionate gleam in them. "Maybe, though, I will make a diving party of one and go down in the bay alone. I'd give you the pearls I found down there."

Madge shook her head. "That wouldn't be fair," she said, setting her red lips together obstinately. Captain Jules, she felt sure, would be easy to manage. If he did any diving in the Delaware Bay within the next few weeks, he must take her with him.

She wrote secretly to New York City to ask what a diver's suit would cost. She was discouraged by the answer, but she did not give up hope. She was also very careful not to let Miss Jenny Ann or Mrs. Curtis know anything of the wild scheme that was evolving in her head.

Almost every day the girls saw Captain Jules. Either they went up the bay to call on him, or he made a visit to the houseboat.

The old captain never invited the girls inside his house, but they had great frolics in his tidy yard. The captain explained that his house was not neat enough to be seen by young ladies, as it had only a man housekeeper.

Even Mrs. Curtis became a little less prejudiced against Captain Jules. She could not but confess that he was a fine old man, though she still did not see why Madge was so much attracted by him. But the girl bided her time. The four girls and their friends went off on long fishing trips with Captain Jules. Sometimes Mrs. Curtis, Tom, and their guest, Philip Holt, went with them. The enmity between Madge and Philip increased every day, nor did Madge any longer make much effort to conceal her dislike for him.

Philip Holt had a special reason for his dislike for Madge Morton. He had come to Cape May with the idea of making Mrs. Curtis do an important favor for him upon which his whole future depended. He feared that Madge, who looked upon him as a hypocrite, would find out his true character, tell her friend, and thus ruin his prospects.

A singular misfortune had befallen him. Who could have guessed that one of the few people who knew his real history, Tania, the little street child, would be picked up by the houseboat girls and brought to Cape May for the summer? Tania must not be allowed to betray him. If she did, Mrs. Curtis must not believe either Madge or Tania. The young man had to lay his plans carefully, but he was a born hypocrite and he meant to accomplish his end.

His first opportunity to further his cause came one morning when he and Mrs. Curtis were sitting on the veranda of her summer cottage. Tom had gone out sailing and was not expected back for several hours, so that Philip believed that the coast was clear. He began by telling Mrs. Curtis something of the charity work that he had recently done in New York City and so brought the subject about to Tania.

"Dear Mrs. Curtis, you are so generous," the young man said admiringly. "I have just learned that after the summer holiday is over you intend to send Miss Morton's protege, Tania, to a boarding school. It is so kind in you."

Mrs. Curtis shook her head. "Oh, no," she answered, "it is very little to do. Really, I don't see what else could be done with the child. She is very queer and not attractive to me, but Madge is fond of her and, as I am very fond of Madge, I shall do what is best for the little girl."

"Ah," murmured Philip Holt vaguely, "but do you feel sure that a boarding school is the best place for the girl? She is so unruly, so untruthful! I fear that she would give you a great deal of trouble and responsibility unless she were placed under greater restraint. I have wondered for some time what should be done for the child. She has caused a lot of mischief among the children on the street in her tenement section. It seems to me that she ought to be sent to some kind of an institution where she would be more closely watched—an asylum or home for incorrigible children."

Mrs. Curtis looked worried and bit her lips. "That is rather hard on the child, isn't it? Still, I could not undertake to be responsible for Tania's good behavior at school. She seems very hard to control. I will watch her more closely, and, if she shows more signs of untruthfulness, I shall have to consider your suggestion. However, I will talk the matter over with Madge. I wish you would walk down to the houseboat for me and invite the girls to come up to the hotel for luncheon. I hope they are not off somewhere with Captain Jules. He seems to claim the greater share of their attention lately."

Philip Holt walked off, very well pleased with his interview. He had conveyed to Mrs. Curtis precisely the impression he had intended to convey.

Ever since his arrival at Cape May Philip Holt had wished to see little Tania alone. He had warned the child that she was not to behave as though she had ever seen him before, yet he was still afraid that she might make a confidante of Madge. He needed to make his threat to her more terrifying. He decided to find her and intimidate her so thoroughly that she would not dare betray her previous acquaintance with him.

There was but one person in the world of whom the queer, elf-like Tania was afraid. That person was Philip Holt! She had feared him since the day of her own mother's death, and the very thought of him was enough to fill her childish soul with terror.

Tania was playing alone on the sands near that houseboat at the time Mrs. Curtis and Philip Holt were discussing her future. Madge and Miss Jenny Ann were inside the houseboat, within calling distance of Tania, but not where they could see her. The little girl had just built a house of shining pebbles and was gazing at it with a pleased smile when she heard a step near her on the sand. Tania stared up at Philip's thin, blonde face in terror-stricken silence.

"Tania," the young man asked harshly, "have you told any one down here that you have ever seen or known me before?"

Tania shook her head mutely.

"Remember, if you do, I am going to have you shut up in a big house with iron bars at the windows where you can never go out or see your friends any more," Philip Holt went on, keeping his voice lowered to a whisper.

Slowly Tania's black eyes dropped. She tried to be brave and to pretend that she did not care, but the loss of her freedom was the one thing that Tania feared with all her soul. If she were shut up somewhere, how could she ever talk to her fairies, or see the blue sky that she so loved? And now, to be parted from the girls forever was too dreadful! Indeed, she would not dare to tell what she knew. Philip Holt was sure of it.

It was at that moment that Madge slipped out on the houseboat deck to see if Tania were all right. To her surprise she saw that Philip Holt was talking to the little girl. She had not thought that Philip Holt cared enough for children to waste a minute's time with them. She therefore wondered at his sudden interest in Tania. Madge walked quietly off the houseboat. She was wearing tennis shoes and her softly-shod feet made no sound. She caught one glimpse of Tania's mute, white face and stopped short in time to hear Philip say:

"Even if you do tell that old Sal is my mother, Tania, no one will believe you. She herself will deny it and help me to have you shut up," declared Philip Holt menacingly.

Madge caught each word as though it had been addressed to her. For Tania's sake, and because she knew that for many reasons it was wiser, she held her peace for the time being.

"How do you do, Mr. Holt?" she asked innocently. "I just saw you from the deck of the houseboat."

Philip Holt leaped to his feet. But Madge's eyes were so clear and serene, her face so calm, that it was utterly impossible she could have overheard him.

Philip delivered Mrs. Curtis's message and then left the two girls together. Madge dropped down on the sands by Tania and put her arm about her. "You need never tell me who Mr. Holt is, nor why you are afraid of him, Tania," she whispered; "I overheard what he said, and you need not be afraid. I will take care of you!"

"He is the Wicked Genii," faltered Tania, "who hated the Princess and wanted to drive her away from her kingdom in Fairyland."

"But he can't harm you, Tania, dear," comforted Madge. "He dare not try to take you away from us. I am going to tell Mrs. Curtis all about this Wicked Genii and if I'm not mistaken it will be he, not you who is sent away."



CHAPTER XIV

CAPTAIN JULES MAKES A PROMISE

Little by little Madge was able to put together the whole story of Philip Holt's life. He was old Sal's son, and "Holt" was not his own name, but he rarely came near his mother, never gave her any help, and denied his relationship with her whenever it was necessary. When Philip Murphy was a small boy, he had been taken into the home of a wealthy family named Holt, but he had never been legally adopted as their child. He was raised in luxury and had made a great many wealthy friends, and he had learned to love money more than anything else in the world. But his rich patrons would not allow him entirely to desert his own mother. Twice every month he was made to go to see old Sal Murphy in her tenement home on the East Side. Philip Holt, who now went by the name of his foster parents, fairly loathed these visits. It was because of his hatred of them that he began to take his spite out on Tania when he was a lad of about fifteen, and poor Tania a baby of only six years old.

Tania's mother had died in the same tenement where old Sal lived. There had been no one who wanted the little girl, so old Sal had taken her, beaten and starved her, and made her useful in any way that she could.

When Philip Holt had grown to manhood his foster parents lost most of their money. A little later they died, leaving their foster son nothing. The young man had been used to luxury and rich friends, and he could not give them up, therefore he told his wealthy friends that because he had once been a poor boy he meant to devote his life to charity. He proposed to work among the New York poor and asked their cooperation. Large sums of money were given him to be used for charity, but Philip Holt believed too strongly in the theory that charity begins at home. Whenever it was possible he used a part of this money for himself. To make more, he began speculating in Wall Street. He lost two thousand, then five thousand dollars of the money that had been entrusted to him. For almost a year he had been the treasurer of a New York charitable organization, and the time was near at hand when he must give a report of the money that he had misused. He knew that disgrace, imprisonment, stared him in the face unless he could persuade Mrs. Curtis to advance him five thousand dollars for some charitable purpose, or give it to him for himself. He, therefore, did not intend to be balked in his plan by either Madge or Tania, no matter what desperate measures he had to employ.

So there were two persons at Cape May who came to believe that they stood in dire need of money. Yet they wished it for very different reasons: Philip Holt wanted money to save himself from disgrace; Madge desired it to help her uncle and aunt save their old home, "Forest House," to send Eleanor back to graduate at Miss Tolliver's in the fall, to start on her search for her father, and, last of all, to take care of Tania.

For Madge had managed the little waif's affairs most undiplomatically. When she discovered the threat that Philip held over Tania if she told his secret, the little captain went to Mrs. Curtis with the story. She did not wish her friend to be deceived by the young man, so she confided to Mrs. Curtis that Philip Holt, who was supposedly the son of some old friends, was really the child of old Sal of the tenements. Mrs. Curtis thought that Madge must be mistaken. She wrote to old Sal to ask her if it were true. The Irish woman was devoted to her son. She would have done anything in the world not to disgrace him. She answered Mrs. Curtis's letter by declaring that Philip Holt was no relative of hers, but a young man whom she knew because of his kindness to the poor. Mrs. Curtis was indignant. She insisted that Tania had told Madge a falsehood, and that Philip Holt was right in his opinion of Tania. It would not be well to send the child to a school; she should be put in some kind of an institution. This, however, Madge was determined should never happen. She had no money of her own, nor did she know where she was to obtain the means, but she made up her mind to find some way to provide for her quaint little Fairy Godmother.

The morning after Madge's disquieting talk with Mrs. Curtis the four girls and Tania wandered up the bay to spend the morning in the woods near the water. Phyllis carried a book that she meant to read aloud, Madge a box of luncheon, and Eleanor and Lillian their sewing. Tania skipped along with her hand in Madge's. John had promised to join them later in the day if he returned in time from his trip on the water.

The girls settled themselves under some trees whence they could command a view of the land and the bay. Madge lay down in the soft grass and rested her head in her hands. She meant to listen to Phil's reading, not to puzzle over her own worries. Phil's book gave a thrilling account of the early days in the Delaware Bay, when it was the favorite cruising place for pirates. It was rather hard to believe, when the girls gazed out on the smooth, blue water, that it had once been the scene of so many fierce adventures with pirates. Once a crew of seventy men, belonging to the famous Captain Kidd, had actually sailed up the Delaware Bay and frightened the people of Philadelphia.

Madge had forgotten to listen. She could hear Phil's voice, but not her words. The history of piracy, of course, was very thrilling, but Madge did not see how any long-ago dead and buried pirates or their hidden treasures could help her out of her present difficulties. She stood in need of real riches.

A sailboat dipped across the horizon and headed for the landing not far from where the girls were sitting, but no one of them noticed it.

"Look ahoy! look ahoy!" a friendly voice cried out from across the water.

Phyllis closed her book with a snap, Lillian and Eleanor dropped their sewing, Tania ran to the water's edge, and Madge sat up.

It was Captain Jules who had hailed them.

"Well, my hearties, is this a summer camp?" demanded the old sailor as his boat came near the land. "I have been all the way to the houseboat to find you. I have something to show you." Captain Jules's broad face shone with good humor. He was clad in his weather-beaten tarpaulins, and on his shoulder perched the monkey.

Madge covered the sides of her curly head with her hands. "Please don't let the monkey pull my hair this morning," she pleaded as the captain came up.

He tossed the monkey over to Tania, who cuddled it affectionately in her arms, and began talking softly to it.

Then Captain Jules seated himself on the grass and the houseboat girls gathered about him in a circle. He put one great hand in his pocket. "I've some presents for you," he announced, trying to look very serious, but smiling in spite of himself.

"What are they?" asked Lillian eagerly.

"That's telling," returned the captain. "You must guess."

"Shells," said Tania quickly.

Captain Jules shook his head. "You're warm, little girl," he replied, "but you haven't guessed right yet."

Lillian sighed. "I never could guess anything," she remarked sadly. "Please do tell us what it is."

The captain relented and drew out of his pocket a handful of what seemed to be either oyster or mussel shells.

"You've brought some oysters for our luncheon, haven't you?" guessed Eleanor. "You must stay and eat them with us."

Captain Jules chuckled. "Oysters are out of season, child, and these are never good to eat."

But Madge had clapped her hands together suddenly, her eyes shining. "You have been down to the bottom of the bay, haven't you, Captain Jules? And you've found some pearls!"

Captain Jules shook his head. "I wouldn't call them pearls, exactly. They're too little and too poor. But come, now; maybe they are seed pearls. I went down under the water with the men who were looking over the oyster beds yesterday. Pearl oysters are not found in beds, like the edible oysters, so I wandered around on the bottom of the bay a bit and picked up these." The captain extended his great hand. Five pairs of eager eyes peered into it. There lay four nearly round, thick shells, horny and rough with tiny little pearls embedded in them.

"'Pearls are angel's tears'," quoted Phil softly.

Captain Jules seemed worried. "I searched about everywhere in the bay, but I could only find these four tiny pearls, and pretty lucky I was to find them!" the sailor continued. "They aren't of much value, but I wanted to give them to five girls, and that's just the difficulty." The captain looked at the houseboat party, which now included Tania, as though he did not know just what he should make up his mind to do.

"Let's draw straws for them," suggested Eleanor sensibly.

Madge shook her head. "No; Captain Jules is to give them to you and to leave me out. Remember, some stranger gave me a handsome pearl when I graduated. I have never had it mounted." Madge slipped her arm confidingly through the old sea captain's and gazed into his face with her most earnest expression. "Captain Jules is going to do something else for me; he is going down to the bottom of the bay again in his diving suit, and he is going to take me with him."

"What a ridiculous idea!" protested Eleanor. "Just as though Captain Jules would think of doing any such thing."

Lillian laughed unbelievingly, but Phil's face was serious. "It would be awfully jolly, wouldn't it? There wouldn't be any danger if Captain Jules should take you. Do please take Madge down with you, and then take me," she insisted coaxingly.

Captain Jules shook his head, but the little captain observed that he did not look half so shocked at the idea as he had the first time she proposed it. This was encouraging.

Phil took hold of one of the captain's hands, and Madge the other.

"Please, please, please!" they pleaded in chorus.

"Miss Jenny Ann wouldn't let you," objected Captain Jules faintly.

"But if we were to get her permission," argued Madge triumphantly, "then you would take us down to the bottom of the bay. I just knew you would, you are so splendid! I shall send to New York to see if we can rent a diving suit."

"Never mind about that, I'll see about the suit," promised Captain Jules. "But it's all nonsense, and I have never said that I would take you. I wish I weren't a sailor. There is an old saying that a sailor can never refuse anything to a woman."

"Here comes Tom," announced Lillian hurriedly.

"Then don't say anything to him about the diving," warned Madge. "He will think it is perfectly dreadful for girls to attempt it."



CHAPTER XV

THE GREAT ADVENTURE

The news that old Captain Jules Fontaine, the retired pearl diver, whose history was a mystery to most of the inhabitants at Cape May, was to take Madge Morton down to the bottom of Delaware Bay with him spread through the town and seaside resort like wildfire. It was in vain that the houseboat party and Captain Jules tried to keep the affair a secret. There were necessary arrangements to be made, men to be engaged to assist in the diving operations; it was impossible to deny everything.

At first the plan seemed to outsiders like mere midsummer madness. Then the story began to grow. Cape May residents learned that Captain Jules had found pearls in the bottom of the bay. No one would believe the captain's statement that the pearls were of little value; gossip made the tiny pearls grow larger and larger, until they were fit for an empress.

Captain Jules was besieged at his little house up the bay, although, as usual, he kept the door fastened against intruders. Half the fishermen and oystermen in the vicinity begged to be permitted to accompany the old sea diver in his descent into the water. Captain Jules politely explained that he needed no companions; he was merely going on a diving expedition to amuse two of his friends, Phyllis Alden and Madge Morton, who had a taste for watery adventure. He did not expect to find anything of value in the bottom of the bay. They were going down merely for sport.

There was one person at Cape May who listened eagerly to any tale of the fabulous riches that the old pearl diver was evidently expecting to unearth. He was Philip Holt. The time of his visit at Cape May was rapidly passing. Mrs. Curtis was exceedingly kind and interested in her guest, but Philip did not feel that he dared approach her too abruptly with the request for so large a sum of money as five thousand dollars. Besides, Philip Holt knew that Tom Curtis disliked him heartily. Tom was not likely to approve a man whom Madge mistrusted; nor would Mrs. Curtis give away or lend five thousand dollars without first consulting her son. So the marvelous tale of the pearls to be found in the Delaware Bay rooted itself in Philip Holt's imagination. Here was another way to get out of his scrape. He was not fond of adventure, but he would do anything in the world for money. Perhaps he could find pearls enough not only to pay his debt, but to make him rich forever afterward.

Quietly, and without a word to any one, Philip Holt made a secret visit to the house of the three sails. He implored Captain Jules to make him his diving companion. He attempted to bribe him with sums of money that he did not possess. He even threatened the old sailor that he would make investigations about his life and expose any secrets that the captain might wish to keep. Captain Jules only laughed at these threats. He was not going down in the bay for treasures, he declared. He expected to find absolutely nothing of any value. Positively he would not allow any one to accompany him but the two girls.

Madge and Phyllis had a hard fight to persuade Miss Jenny Ann to give her consent to their plan for playing mermaid. But she was getting so accustomed to the exciting adventures of her girls that, when Captain Jules assured her there was really no special danger, so long as he kept a close watch on the diver with him, she finally agreed to the scheme. Captain Jules gave the two girls every kind of instruction in the art of diving that he thought necessary, and the day of the great watery adventure was set for the week ahead.

On the morning of Tuesday, July 12th, Madge awoke at daybreak. She felt a delicious, shivery thrill pass over her that was one part fear and the other part rapture.

"Phil," she whispered a few seconds later, when she heard her chum stirring in the berth above her, "can you feel fins growing where your feet are? Your flop in the bed sounded as though you were a real mermaid! Just think, at ten o'clock sharp we are going down to explore a new world! I wonder if there were ever any girl divers before? You are awfully good to let me go down first."

"No, I am not," answered Phil soberly. "If there is any danger, I am letting you go down to it first. But I shall watch above the water, with all my eyes, to see that everything goes right. The captain has explained the whole business of diving to us so thoroughly that I believe I can tell if anything is wrong with you below the surface. You'll be careful, won't you, Madge? You know you are usually rather reckless. Don't stay down too long."

"Oh, Captain Jules won't let me be reckless this time. We are not going down into very deep water, anyway, and a professional diver can stay under several hours when the water is only about five fathoms deep."

Madge and Phyllis ate a very light breakfast. Captain Jules had told them that a diver must never go down into the water on a full stomach, as it would make him too short-winded. While the two prospective divers were eating poor Miss Jenny Ann was wondering what had ever induced her to give her consent to so mad an enterprise as this diving.

Every effort had been made to keep a crowd away from the pier from which Captain Jules meant to send out the boats with the tenders, who were the men to look after the safety of Madge and himself.

As the girls came up, with Miss Jenny Ann, to join Captain Jules they saw twenty or thirty people about. Mrs. Curtis and Tom, accompanied by Philip Holt, had come down to the pier. Mrs. Curtis would hardly speak to Madge, she was so angry at the risk she believed the little captain was running. She and Madge had not been very friendly since they had disagreed so utterly in Madge's report of the real character and name of Philip Holt.

Madge and Phyllis each wore a close fitting, warm woolen dress. Madge had tucked up her red-brown curls into a tight knot. Her eyes were glowing, but her face was white and her lips a little less red when Captain Jules came forward to fasten her into her diving suit.

"Don't attempt it, Madge, if you are frightened," urged Miss Jenny Ann, who was feeling dreadfully frightened herself. "I am sure Captain Jules will forgive you if you back out."

Captain Jules looked at Madge searchingly. Her eyes smiled bravely into his, although her heart was going pit-a-pat.

"Miss Madge is not afraid," answered Captain Jules curtly. "Robert Morton's daughter has no right to know fear."

Madge first slipped her feet into a pair of heavy leather boots. She gave a gay laugh as she slipped into her rubber cloth suit, which was made in one piece. "I feel just like a walrus," she confided to Tom Curtis, who was watching her with set lips.

Then Madge and Captain Jules, who was in exactly the same costume, got into their boats and moved out a little distance from the shore.

Tom Curtis had asked Captain Jules's consent to sit in one of the boats with Phil. At the last moment Philip Holt stepped calmly into the other. No one stopped to argue with him, or to thrust him out; the whole party was too much excited.

Not for all the pearls in all the seas would Captain Jules Fontaine have allowed one hair of Madge's head to be injured. But he really did not believe that she would be in any danger under the water with him. He had arranged every detail of the diving perfectly. He would watch her every movement at the bottom of the bay. To tell the truth, Captain Jules was immensely proud of Madge's and Phil's bravery in desiring to accompany him.

The final moment for the dive arrived. Madge waved her hand to the crowd of her friends lining the shore. She flung back her head and looked gayly, triumphantly, up at the blue sky above her, with its sweep of white, sailing clouds. Below her the water looked even more deeply blue.

"Remember, Madge," whispered Captain Jules calmly, "the one quality a diver needs more than anything else is presence of mind. Keep a clear head under the water and nothing shall harm you, I swear. But above all, don't forget your signals."

With his own hands Captain Jules fastened the brass corselet about Madge's slender neck and set a big copper helmet which he screwed over her head to her corselet. Madge then surveyed the world only through the glass windows at each side of her head and in front. Her air-tube entered her helmet at the back. Two men in one of the boats were to keep the young girl diver supplied with oxygen by pumping fresh air down through this tube.

A moment later Captain Jules stood rigged in the same costume as Madge.

"Steady, my girl," Captain Jules warned her.

"Aye, aye, Captain," returned Madge quietly, "I'm ready. Let us go down together to the bottom of the bay."

"Pump away," ordered the captain.

There was a splash on the surface of the clear water, a long-drawn gasp from Madge's friends; then a few bubbles rose. Rapidly, skillfully, Madge's tenders played out her life and pipe lines, and Madge Morton disappeared from the world of men. Captain Jules made his plunge a few seconds in advance of his companion.

In the boat where Tom Curtis and Phyllis Alden sat there was a breathless, intense silence. The boy and girl happened to be in the boat with the men who were looking out for the welfare of Captain Jules. Philip Holt was with Madge's tenders.

Phyllis knew that there was but one way in which she could follow her chum's course below the surface of the water. She could watch her life and air lines. Captain Jules had made it plain to Phyllis that all the time the diver is under water small ripples will appear near his air line. These bubbles are caused by the air that the diver breathes out from the valve in the side of his diving helmet.

Phyllis watched the lines doggedly. Captain Jules was to keep Madge under water only about fifteen or twenty minutes, but at that a minute may appear longer than an hour.

Suddenly Phyllis Alden discovered that the man who was tending Madge's air pump seemed to be working less vigorously. He pumped unevenly. Once he swayed, as though he were about to fall over in his seat.

In a second it flashed over Phyllis that the man was ill. He was a strong, red-faced individual, but his face turned to a kind of ghastly pallor. It was all so quick that Phil had no time to speak from her boat. Philip Holt, who was in the same boat with the man, grasped the situation as quickly as Phyllis did. With a single motion he took the tender's place at the air-pump. Phil saw that he was pumping away with vigor.

At this moment Phil turned to speak to Tom Curtis. "Tom, how long have they been under the water?" she whispered.

"Ten minutes," returned Tom, glancing hastily at his watch.

"It seems ten hours," murmured Phil, as though she dared not speak aloud.

Tug, tug! Phil thought she saw Madge's air line give two desperate jerks. Two pulls at the line was the diver's signal for more air. Phil knew that without a doubt. Yet Philip Holt seemed to be pumping vigorously. At least, he had been only the second before when Phil last looked at him.

Again Phil saw Madge's air line jerk twice.

Tom Curtis and the two men in Captain Jules's boat were vainly trying to interpret some signals that Captain Jules was making to them. The two boats were at no great distance apart.

"I am afraid something is the matter below, Phil," Tom Curtis turned to mutter hoarsely. But Phyllis Alden, who had been sitting near him a moment before, was no longer there.

Phyllis believed she saw that Philip Holt was only pretending to pump sufficient air down to Madge. She may have been wrong. Who could ever tell? But Phil knew there was no time to discuss the matter. One minute, two minutes, five or ten—Phil did not know how long a diver at the bottom of the water can be shut off from his supply of fresh air and live. She did not mean to wait, to ask questions, or to lose time. Phil made a flying leap from the skiff that held her to the one in which Philip Holt sat by the air-pump. She landed in the water, just alongside the boat. Quietly, though more quickly than she had ever moved before in her life, Phil climbed into the boat and thrust Philip Holt away from the air pump. In the minute it had taken her to make her plunge she had seen Madge's signal again, but this time the line jerked more feebly than it had before.

Phil set the pump to working again; the signal answered from below, "All is well!"

The tender had recovered from his attack of faintness and resumed his work at Madge's airline.

But Philip Holt sat crouched in the bottom of the boat, his face white with anger. What would Phyllis Alden's action suggest but that he was trying to suffocate Madge in the water below?

Whether or not Philip Holt meant to stifle Madge Morton he himself never really knew. The impulse came to him as he placed his hands on her air-pump. It flashed across his mind that it was Madge who had tried to injure his prospects with Mrs. Curtis, and who had kept him from going down with Captain Jules to search for the pearls that he firmly believed would be found at the bottom of the bay. It was while these thoughts passed through Philip Holt's mind his pressure on Madge's air-pump had wavered. But Phyllis Alden had discovered it. She gave him no opportunity either for action or regret.



CHAPTER XVI

A STRANGE PEARL

Madge felt herself in a great fairy world peopled with giants. Every thing below the water is magnified a thousandfold. Slowly she went down and down! The fishes splashed and tumbled about her, hurrying to get away from this strange, new sea-monster that had come into their midst.