The little captain felt no mental sensation except one of wonder and of awe; no physical impression save a pressure as of a great weight on her head and a roaring of mighty waters in her ears. She no longer had any idea of being afraid.

At the first plunge into the water she had shut her eyes, but now, as she approached the bottom of the bay, she kept them wide open.

The water was clear as crystal, like the reflection in a mammoth mirror. She could see nearly fifty feet ahead of her. Captain Jules walked just in front of her, swinging his great body from side to side, peering down into the sandy bottom of the bay. Madge discovered that the only way in which she could get a view, except the one directly in front of her, was by turning her head inside her helmet, to look through her side window glasses. The goggles over her eyes gave her just the view that a horse has with blinkers.

There were hundreds of things that Madge would have liked to confide to Captain Jules. However, for once in her life, she was compelled to hold her tongue. Her eyes, her hands, and her feet she could keep busy. Now and then she gave a little ejaculation of wonder inside her copper helmet at the marvels she saw. No one heard her cry out. Captain Jules wasted no time. He was exceedingly business-like. He motioned to Madge just where she should go and what she should do, and she obediently followed.

There were long, level flats of sand in the bottom of Delaware Bay, like small prairies. Then there were exquisite oases of waving green seaweed, gardens of sea flowers and ferns, and hillocks of rocks, with all sorts of queer sea animals, crabs, jelly-fish, and devil-fish, scurrying about them.

Caught in the moss, encrusted on the rocks, sunken in the yellow sands, were opalescent, shining shells and pebbles, each one more beautiful than the last. Madge did not realize that if she carried these shells and pebbles above the water they would look like ordinary stones. Every now and then the young diver would stoop and drop one of them in her netted bag with a thrill of excitement.

Again and again Captain Jules had assured Madge that she must not expect to find any pearls of much value in Delaware Bay. There were few pearls in edible oysters. The beds about Cape May were meant to supply the family table, not the family jewels. Of course, it was true, the Captain admitted, that a pearl did appear now and then in an ordinary oyster. Yet this was an accident and most unlikely to occur.

Madge had really tried not to believe that she was going to find any kind of prize in the new world under the water. In spite of all her efforts she had been thinking and planning and hoping. Perhaps—perhaps she would find a pearl of great price. Then her troubles would be at an end.

All this time Madge had been breathing naturally and comfortably inside her helmet as she traveled along the bed of the bay. She was so unconscious of any difficulty that she was beginning to believe that she was, in truth, a mermaid, and that water, and not air, was her natural element. Suddenly she felt a little uneasy, as though the windows of her room had been closed for too long a time. It was nothing, she was sure. The stifling sensation would pass in another second.

At this moment Captain Jules gazed hard at Madge. He had never forgotten his charge for a moment. But all seemed well with her, and the captain thought he saw ahead of him something that was well worth investigating. He dropped on his knees in the soft mud. With him he had a small hammer and a fork, not unlike a gardener's. Shining through some green sea moss so soft and fine that it might have been the hair of a water-baby, Captain Jules had espied some glittering shells. To his experienced eye the glow was that of mother-of-pearl. It is the mother-of-pearl shell that usually covers the precious pearl. The old sailor set to work. Madge was eagerly watching him, when once again the faint stifling sensation swept over her. Surely it was not possible to faint in a diving suit. Besides, Madge's heart was beating so furiously with excitement that it was small wonder she could not get her breath. She believed that Captain Jules was about to discover a wonderful pearl. He had wrenched the shells free and was trying to open them. Madge stood some feet away from him, quivering with excitement.

"'And the sea shall give up its treasures'," she quoted softly to herself as she watched.

The next moment her hands made an involuntary movement in the water. Had she been on land her gesture would have meant that she was fighting for breath. To her horror she realized that she was slowly suffocating. Something must have happened to her air-pump above the water. She was not faint from any other cause, but was getting an insufficient supply of fresh air.

At this moment Madge proved her mettle. She remembered Captain Jules's injunction, "Keep a clear head under the water and there is nothing to fear." She knew the signal for more fresh air, and gave two hard, quick pulls on her life line. Then she waited. Relief would surely come in a moment.

For the first and only time since their descent to the bottom of the bay Captain Jules had temporarily neglected Madge. He certainly had not expected to find any pearls in so unlikely a place as Delaware Bay; yet the shells he held in his hand were most unusual. The thrill of his old occupation seized hold of the pearl fisher. His big hands fairly trembled with emotion. He felt, rather than saw, Madge jerk her life line twice, but it never dawned on him that her signal for more air might fail to be answered.

Madge signaled again. A loud buzzing seemed to sound in her ears. Her tongue felt thick and swollen. She could not see a foot ahead of her. All the dazzling, shimmering beauty of the world under the water had passed into blackness. The little captain's eyes were glazing behind the glass windows of her helmet. She felt that she must be dying. But she had strength to give one more signal. Air! air! How could she ever have believed that there was anything in the world so precious as fresh air? Madge had a vision of a field of new-mown hay in her old home at "Forest House." The wind was blowing through it with a delicious fragrance. Had she the strength to pull her life line once again? The water that she loved so dearly was to claim her at last. She made a motion to go toward Captain Jules, but she had no control of her limbs.

Then Captain Jules became aroused to action. He realized that Madge had signaled for air, not once, but several times. This meant that her signal had not been answered. The captain had been for too many years a deep-sea diver not to guess instantly the girl's condition. The groan inside his helmet came from the bottom of his heart. Captain Jules's hands shook. He dropped the shells that he believed might contain priceless pearls down into the soft sand in the bed of the bay.

It was at this moment that Tom Curtis and Phyllis Alden, as well as the captain's boat tenders, caught his confusing signals from below. More fresh air was pumped down the tube to Captain Jules, but not to Madge.

Phil's leap and quick work at Madge's air-pump must have taken place not more than three minutes afterward, but they were horrible, agonizing moments. Madge hardly knew how they passed. Captain Jules suffered the regret of a lifetime. How could he have been so unwise as to entrust the safety of this girl, whose life was so dear to him, to the perils of a diver's experiences? In the few weeks of their acquaintance Madge Morton had become all in all to Captain Jules Fontaine.

There was but one thing for Captain Jules to do for his companion. He must signal to have her drawn up to the surface of the water again, trusting that she would not suffocate for lack of air in her ascent.

Madge was near enough to lay her hand on Captain Jules's arm. Phil's relief had come just in time. The life-giving fresh air from the world above pressed into her copper helmet. It filled her nose and mouth, it poured into her aching lungs. She received new life, new energy. Now she was no longer afraid. She did not wish to go above the surface of the water. Surely all above was now well. She yearned to continue her adventures on the under side of the world.

She it was, not Captain Jules, who dropped down on her hands and knees to grope for the captain's lost pearl shells.

But the sand had covered them up forever, or else the water had carried them away!

Captain Jules wished to take Madge out of the water immediately, yet he yielded for a minute to her disappointment. What treasures had they lost when he threw the mother-of-pearl shells away? Neither of them would ever know. The old diver looked about in the soft mud, while Madge raked furiously near the spot where she thought the sailor had dropped the shells. Captain Jules walked on for a little distance. He had seen beyond them a tangled mass of other shells and seaweed and it occurred to him that the water might have carried his shells into some hidden crevice nearby.

But Madge never left her chosen spot. Deeper and deeper she dug. What a swirl of mud arose and eddied about her, darkening the clear water in which she stood! The little captain's hammer struck against something hard. Was it a rock embedded in the sand? Yet a distinct sound rang out, as of one metal striking against another!

Madge did not know how she summoned Captain Jules back to her side. She was wild with curiosity and excitement. Captain Jules was smiling behind his copper mask. The young girl diver had probably found a piece of old iron cast off from some ship. Still, she should unearth whatever she had discovered so near the dark kingdom of Pluto.

The captain worked with her. Whatever her find might be, it was larger and heavier than Captain Jules had expected. They could afford to spend no more time with it. It was time for Madge to leave the water.

It is difficult to make an imploring gesture in a diver's suit. Yet, somehow, Madge must have managed to do so. For one moment longer the old pearl diver relented. The hole that they were digging in the bottom of the bay was widening before them. A chunk of what looked like solid iron was visible. Then a triangular end came into view. It was rusted until it shone like beautiful green enamel. The top was absolutely flat and of some depth, as it was so hard to excavate.

The time was growing short. Madge had been under the water as long as was safe for any amateur diver. The captain was a man to be obeyed, as she knew instinctively. She gave one more dig into the mud about her iron treasure. It now became plain, both to her and to Captain Jules, that she had found an old iron chest. The captain tugged at it with both his great, strong hands. It was strangely heavy. But he managed to lift it in his arms.

Straightway he gave the signal to ascend; three sharp tugs at his life line. Madge followed suit. But she cast one long backward glance at the watery world into which she might never again descend, as slowly, steadily, the boat tenders pulled up her long life line. Her feet dangled above the sandy bottom of the bay. Now she could see even farther off. About forty feet from the rapidly filling hole from which she and the captain had extracted the iron chest was a spar of a ship jutting above the sand. The little captain may have been wrong, but it looked like the very spar on which Tania's dress had caught the day she was so nearly drowned. Madge could not tell how far she and Captain Jules had traveled on the bottom of the bay, but she knew they had made their descent at a place no very great distance from the spot where Roy Dennis's yacht had run down their skiff, and Captain Jules had rescued Tania and herself.

Thought travels swifter than anything else in the created world. So Madge's thoughts had reached the upper world before she followed them. She wondered if the girls would be very sadly disappointed when she returned bearing, instead of a costly pearl, nothing but a rusted iron box!

Would Phil have better luck when she descended to the depths of the bay? What had happened in the outside world since she had disappeared from it a long, long time ago?

A flare of blinding sunlight smote across the glass goggles in Madge's copper helmet. She felt herself picked up and lifted bodily into a boat. Her helmet and corselet were unscrewed. She lay still, smiling faintly as the boat made for her friends who crowded, watching, on the pier. Captain Jules, bearing the small iron chest, landed a moment later. The little captain had been in a new world, into which few men and rarely any women have ever entered. She had been out of her human element, a creature of the water, not of the air, and it seemed to her that she must have lived a whole new lifetime as a deep-sea diver.

Tom Curtis stared anxiously at his watch and smiled into her white face. He breathed a sigh of relief and of wonder. Captain Jules Fontaine and Madge Morton had been down at the bottom of Delaware Bay exactly thirty minutes!



CHAPTER XVII

THE FAIRY GODMOTHER'S WISH COMES TRUE

Captain Jules decided to wait until another day before taking Phyllis Alden on the journey from which he and Madge had just returned. The old sailor was too deeply thankful to see his first charge safe on land. Poor Miss Jenny Ann could do nothing but lean over Madge and cry; the nervous strain of waiting while the girl was under the water had been too great. Indeed, even the people who, Madge knew, were not in the least interested in her, appeared dreadfully upset. Philip Holt's face was very pale and his eyes shifted uneasily from Phyllis's to Madge's face.

Phyllis was the most self-possessed of the four girls. She was greatly disappointed at the captain's determination to put off the time for her diving expedition until a later date. But Phyllis was always unselfish. She realized that her chaperon and her friends had had about as much anxiety as they could endure in one day. Madge had been under the water, and she could not dream of what the others had suffered above, while awaiting her return.

Mrs. Curtis put her arms about the little captain and embraced her with an affection she had not shown her during the summer.

"My dear," she murmured, "will you ever stop being the most reckless girl in the world? What possible good could that wretched diving feat of yours do anybody on earth? If my hair weren't already white I am sure it would have turned so in the last half-hour. Look at poor Philip Holt. He seems as nervous as though you were his own sister."

Madge and Captain Jules had both taken off their heavy diving suits and were soon shaking hands with every one on the pier. Even Roy Dennis and Mabel Farrar, much as they disliked Madge, could not conceal the fact that they thought her extremely plucky.

Captain Jules had laid the iron chest on the ground and for the moment they had forgotten it.

It was little Tania who danced up to it and tried to lift it.

"Show us the pearls you found, Madge," Eleanor begged her cousin at this instant, her brown eyes twinkling.

The little captain looked crestfallen. "I am afraid we didn't find anything of value," she said, trying to pretend that she was not disappointed. "I have only some pretty shells and stones that I gathered on the bottom of the bay for Tania."

She pulled her sea treasures out of her netted diving bag. Sure enough, the water had dried on them and the shells and stones appeared quite dull and ugly. There were almost as pretty shells and pebbles to be picked up at any place along the Cape May beach.

"Why, Madge!" exclaimed Lillian, before she realized what she was saying, "surely, you didn't waste your time in bringing up such silly trifles as these?"

Madge shook her head humbly. "We didn't find anything else but this old iron chest. Captain Jules, may I take it back to the houseboat with me as a souvenir, or do you wish it? Tania, child, you can't lift it, it is too heavy."

Tom Curtis brought the chest to Captain Jules. Some of the crowd had moved away, now that the diving was over. But a dozen or more strangers pressed about the girls and their friends.

"There is something in this little chest, Captain," declared Tom Curtis quietly, as he set it down before the captain and Madge. "I could feel something roll around in the box as I lifted it."

Captain Jules shook the heavy safe. Something certainly rattled on the inside.

There were bits of moss and tiny shells and stones encrusted on the upper lid of the box. Deliberately Captain Jules scraped them off with a stick. The houseboat party and Tom were beginning to grow impatient. What made Captain Jules so slow? Philip Holt, who was standing by Mrs. Curtis's side, gazed sneeringly at the operations. He was glad, indeed, that he had not risked his life in descending to the bottom of the bay in search for pearls, only to bring up a rusty chest.

"The box is fastened tightly; it will have to be broken open," remarked Madge indifferently. She was feeling tired, now that the excitement of her diving trip was over. She wished to go home to the houseboat. She did not wish Captain Jules to guess for an instant how disappointed she was that they had found nothing of value on their diving adventure. If only the captain had not dropped the shells in which there might have been a chance of finding pearls!

Captain Jules had hold of the iron hammer that he used when diving. Click! click! click! he struck three times on the lock of the iron safe. Like the magic tinder-box, the lid flew open. Tania's long-drawn childish, "Oh!" was the only sound that broke the tense and breathless stillness that pervaded the group.

A single pearl! The scorned iron chest almost full of shining coins and precious stones! There were coins of gold and silver—strange coins that no one in the watching crowd had ever seen before. Some of them bore dates and inscriptions of English mintings of the early part of the eighteenth century.

Of course, it was incredible! No one believed his eyes. A treasure-chest unearthed after more than two hundred years? It was impossible!

Yet instantly each one of the girls remembered that the pirates had sunk many vessels in Delaware Bay in the latter part of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth century. In those days many wealthy English families came over with their servants and their treasure to settle in the new country of America.

Phil's book on the history of piracy had recalled this information to the girls only ten days before. It was then, when Madge lay with her head resting in her hands, looking dreamily out over the waters, that she had wondered how anything so remote from her as the story of the early American battles with pirate ships could help her to solve her present troubles? Yet here, like a miracle before her eyes, lay the answer!

The little captain was the last of the onlookers to know what had happened. She was too dazed, perhaps, from her stay under the water.

It was only when Tania flung her eager, thin arms about her beloved Fairy Godmother's neck that Madge actually woke up.

"The fairies who live under the water have given you these wonderful things," whispered Tania. "I prayed that they would come to see you, bringing you all the good gifts that they had."

Captain Jules reached over and set the priceless box before Madge. She was encircled by Miss Jenny Ann and her beloved houseboat chums.

"It is all yours, Madge," asserted Captain Jules solemnly. "You found it, child. I should never have discovered it but for you."

Madge shook her red-brown head. "Captain Jules, that chest is far more yours than it is mine. I should never have gone down under the water but for you. If Phil had only dived first, instead of me, she would have found it, I won't have any of the money or the jewelry unless I can share it with the rest of you."

Then, to Madge's own surprise, she began to cry.

"There, there, little mate, it will be all right," Captain Jules assured her quietly. "You've had a bit too much for one day. We don't know the value of what we have found just yet, but the old jewelry will make pretty trinkets for you girls. We'll see about the rest later on."

Miss Jenny Ann put her arm about Madge on one side. Phil was on the other side of her chum.

"We will go home now, dear," said Miss Jenny Ann to Madge. "You are worn out from all this excitement."

"I'll look after the girls, Captain," promised Tom Curtis quietly, "then I will come back to you." A flash of understanding passed between Captain Jules and Tom Curtis. They had both guessed that Madge's iron box of old jewelry and coins represented more money than the girls could comprehend, and that it was better for the news of the discovery to be kept as quiet as possible for the time being.

"You will walk home with me, won't you, Philip?" Mrs. Curtis asked her guest. "I am rather tired from the excitement of this most unusual morning."

But Philip Holt had forgotten that he wished to keep on the good side of his wealthy hostess. His eyes were staring eagerly and greedily at the closed iron box which old Captain Jules was guarding. He took a step forward, stopped and looked at the little crowd standing near.

"No; I can't go back with you now, Mrs. Curtis," he answered abruptly, "I have some important business to transact."

Mrs. Curtis walked away deeply offended. Philip Holt, however, was too fully occupied with his own disappointment to note this. A sudden daring idea had taken possession of him. Perhaps Madge Morton was not so lucky after all. Finding a treasure did not necessarily mean keeping it.



CHAPTER XVIII

MISSING, A FAIRY GODMOTHER

Several days after the finding of the treasure-chest experts came down from Philadelphia to appraise its value. It was not easy to decide, immediately, what market price the old jewels, set in quaintly chased gold, would bring. But the least that the coins and stones would be worth was ten thousand dollars! It might be more. An extra thousand dollars or so was hardly worth considering, when ten thousand would make things turn out so beautifully even.

Madge and Captain Jules, Miss Jenny Ann and the other houseboat girls had many discussions about Madge's discovery of the iron safe.

The little captain was entirely alone on one side of the argument. The others were all against her. Yet she won her point. She continued to insist that her wonderful find was purely an accident. How could she ever have unearthed a box, lost from a sunken ship, that had probably been buried for centuries, if Captain Jules Fontaine had not listened to her pleadings and taken her on the wonderful diving trip with him? Though she had actually struck the first blow on the piece of iron embedded in the bay, she could never have dragged the safe out of the mud, or been able to carry it up to the surface, without Captain Jules's assistance.

Madge and the old sailor started their discussion alone. The captain had come over to the houseboat, bringing the iron safe with him so that the girls might have a better view of its wonders. He had firmly made up his mind that Madge must be made to understand that the money the treasure would bring was to be all hers. He would not accept one cent of it. Fate had been kinder to him than he had hoped in allowing him to guide Madge to the discovery of her fortune.

"Ten thousand dollars!" exclaimed Madge ecstatically, when the old sailor reported the news to her. "It's the most wonderful thing I ever heard of in my life. I didn't dream it was worth so much money. Will you please lend me a piece of paper and a pencil, Captain Jules. I never have been clever at arithmetic." Madge knitted her brows thoughtfully. "Ten thousand dollars divided by two means five thousand dollars for you and the same sum for us."

The captain cleared his throat. "What's the rest of the arithmetic?" he demanded gruffly. "I don't think much of that first division."

But Madge was hardly listening. She was biting the end of her pencil. "Six doesn't go into five thousand just evenly," she replied thoughtfully, "but with fractions I suppose we can manage. You see that will be eight hundred and thirty-three dollars and something over for Miss Jenny Ann to put in bank to take care of her if she ever gets sick, or has to stop teaching; and the same sum will pay for Phil's first year at college and for Eleanor's graduating at Miss Tolliver's, so uncle won't have to worry over that any more. Then my little Fairy Godmother can go to some beautiful school in the country, and not be shut up in a horrid home with a capital 'H,' which is what Philip Holt has persuaded Mrs. Curtis ought to be done with her. And Lillian can save her money to buy pretty clothes, because she is not as poor as the rest of us and dearly loves nice things, and——" Madge's speech ended from lack of breath.

The captain rubbed his rough chin reflectively. "Oh! I see," he nodded, "I am to get half of the money and you are to get a sixth of a half. Is that it?"



Madge lowered her voice to a whisper. "Dear Captain Jules," she said in a wheedling tone, "you'll help me, won't you? The girls and Miss Jenny Ann declare positively that they won't accept a single dollar of the money. I shall be the most miserable girl in the world if they don't. Why, we four girls and Miss Jenny Ann have shared everything in common, our misfortunes and our good fortunes, since we started out together. If any one of the other girls had happened to discover the treasure instead of me, she would certainly have divided it with the others. Phil, Lillian, Eleanor and Miss Jenny Ann don't even dare to deny it. So they simply must give in to me about it."

"Well," continued the captain, "I am yet to be told what Madge Morton means to do with the one-sixth of one-half of her wealth when it finally gets round to her."

The little captain's eyes shone, though her face sobered. "I am not going to college with Phil, though I hate to be parted from her," she replied. "Somehow, I think I am not exactly meant for a college girl. I believe I will just advertise in all the papers in the world for my father. Then, if he is alive, I shall surely find him. With whatever money is left I shall go to him. If he is poor, I will manage to take care of him in some way," ended Madge confidently.

"You will, eh?" returned Captain Jules gruffly. "It seems to me, my girl, that this is a pretty position you have mapped out for me. I am to take half of our find—nice, selfish old codger that I am—while you divide yours with your friends. I am not going to take a cent of that money, so you can just do your sums over again."

It was at this point that Madge called Miss Jenny Ann and the other houseboat girls into the discussion. It ended with the captain's agreeing to take one-seventh of the money, if all the others would follow suit.

"Because, if you don't," declared Madge in her usual impetuous fashion, "I shall just throw this chest of money and jewelry right overboard and it can go down to the bottom of the bay and stay there, for all I care."

Captain Jules remained to dinner on the houseboat that evening. After dinner the girls proceeded to adorn themselves with the old sets of jewelry found in the safe. Madge wore the pearls because, she insisted, they were her special jewels, and she had gone down to the bottom of the bay to find them. Phil was more fascinated with some old-fashioned garnets, Lillian with a big, golden topaz pin, and Eleanor with some turquoises that had turned a curious greenish color from old age.

It was well after ten o'clock when the captain announced that he must set out for home. Tom Curtis had been spending the evening on the houseboat with the girls, but he had gone home an hour before to join his mother and her guest, Philip Holt. Before going away the captain concluded that it would be best for him to leave the iron safe of coins and precious stones on the houseboat for the night. It was too late for him to carry it back to "The Anchorage" alone. As no one but Tom knew of its being on the houseboat, the valuables could be in no possible danger. The captain would call some time within the next day or so to take the iron box to a safety deposit vault in the town of Cape May.

Together Miss Jenny Ann and the captain hid the precious chest in a small drawer in the sideboard built into the wall of the little dining room cabin of the houseboat. They locked this drawer carefully and Miss Jenny Ann hid the key under her pillow without speaking of it to any one.

In spite of these precautions no one on the houseboat dreamed of any possible danger to the safety of their newly-found prize. Remember, no one knew of its being on the houseboat save Tom Curtis and Captain Jules. Up to to-night Captain Jules had been guarding the treasure at his house up the bay. No one had been allowed to see it since the famous day of its discovery, except the experts who had come down from Philadelphia to give some idea of the value of Madge's remarkable find.

Little Tania was in the habit of sleeping in the dining room of the houseboat on a cot which Miss Jenny Ann prepared for her each night. She went to bed earlier than the other girls, so in order not to disturb her, she was stowed away in there instead of occupying one of the berths in the two staterooms. Soon after the captain's departure Miss Jenny Ann tucked Tania safely in bed. She closed the door of the dining room that led out on the cabin deck and also the door that connected with the stateroom occupied by Madge and Phil. The cabin of the "Merry Maid" was a square divided into four rooms, and Miss Jenny Ann's bedroom did not open directly into the dining room.

It was a dark night and a strangely still one. The weather was unusually warm and close for Cape May. Over the flat marshes and islands the heat was oppressive. The residents of the summer cottages left their doors and windows open, hoping that a stray breeze might spring up during the night to refresh them. No one seemed to have any fear of burglars.

On the "Merry Maid" the night was so still and cloudy that the girls sat up for an hour after Captain Jules left them, talking over their wonderful good fortune. They were almost asleep before they tumbled into their berths. Once there, they slept soundly all night long. Nothing apparently happened to disturb them, but Madge, who was the lightest sleeper in the party, did half-waken at one time during the night. She thought she heard Tania cry out. It was a peculiar cry and was not repeated. She knew that Tania was given to dreaming. Almost every night the child made some kind of sound in her sleep. Madge sat up in bed and listened, but hearing no further sound, she went fast asleep again without a thought of anxiety.

Miss Jenny Ann was the first to open her eyes the next morning. It must have been as late as seven o'clock, for the sun was shining brilliantly. She slipped on her wrapper and went into the kitchen to start the fire. A few moments later she went into the dining room to call Tania and to help the child to dress. But the dining room door on to the cabin deck was open. Tania's bedclothes were in a heap on the floor. The child had disappeared.

Miss Jenny Ann was not in the least uneasy or annoyed. She knew that Tania had a way of creeping in Madge's bed in the early mornings and of snuggling close to her. Miss Jenny Ann tip-toed softly into Madge's and Phil's stateroom. There was no dark head with its straight, short black hair and quaint, elfish face pressed close against Madge's lovely auburn one. Madge was slumbering peacefully. Miss Jenny Ann peered into the upper berth. Phil was alone and had not stirred.

Tania was such a queer, wild little thing! Miss Jenny Ann felt annoyed. Perhaps Tania had awakened and slipped off the boat without telling any of them. She had solemnly promised never to run away again, but she might have broken her word. Miss Jenny Ann explored the houseboat decks. She called the child's name softly once or twice so as not to disturb the other girls. There was no answer. She went back into the cabin dining room. Neatly folded on the chair, where Miss Jenny Ann herself had placed them the night before, were Tania's clothes. The child could hardly have run away in her little white nightgown.

When the girls finally wakened Madge was the only one of them who was alarmed at first. She recalled Tania's strange cry in the night. She wondered if it could have been possible that she had heard a sound before the little girl cried out. But she could not decide. She would not believe, however, that Tania had forgotten her promise and gone away again without permission.

As soon as Eleanor and Lillian were dressed they went ashore and walked up and down near the houseboat, calling aloud for Tania. Phyllis was the most composed of the party. She had two small twin sisters of her own and knew that children were in the habit of creating just such unnecessary excitements. Still, it was better to look for a lost child before she had had time to wander too far away.

"Madge," suggested Phil quietly, "don't be so frightened about Tania. I have an idea the child has walked off the houseboat in her sleep. She must have done so, for the dining room door is unlocked from the inside. Our door on to the deck was not locked, but Tania's was, because Miss Jenny Ann recalls having locked it herself. She came through our room when she joined us outdoors after putting Tania to bed. You and I had better go up at once to find Tom Curtis. Dear old Tom is such a comfort! He will help us search for Tania. Then, if it is necessary, he will ask the Cape May authorities to have the police on the lookout for her. If Tania has wandered off in her sleep, the poor little thing will be terrified when she wakes up and finds herself in a strange place. Surely, some one will take her in and care for her until we find her."

Madge and Phil were wonderfully glad to find Tom Curtis up and alone on his front veranda. He had just come in from a swim. He seemed so strong, clean, and fine after his morning's dip in the ocean that his two girl friends were immediately reassured. Tom would tell them just what had better be done to find Tania.

"Mrs. Curtis's and Philip Holt's window blinds are still down, thank goodness!" whispered Madge to Phil, "so I suppose they are both asleep. Let us not tell them anything about Tania's disappearance. They would just put it down to naughtiness in her, and that would make me awfully cross."

Tom Curtis felt perfectly sure that he would soon run across the lost Tania. So he left word for his mother that he had gone to the houseboat and that she was not to expect him until she saw him again.

For two hours Tom and the houseboat party continued the hunt for the lost child without calling in assistance. Then Madge and Tom went to the town authorities of Cape May. The police investigated the city and the houses in the nearby seaside resort without finding the least clue to Tania. Toward the close of the long day Tom Curtis began to fear that Tania had fallen into the water. Cape May is only a strip of land between the great ocean and the bay, and the land is broken into many small islands nearly surrounded by salt water and marshes.

Tom managed to get the girls safely out of the way; then, with Miss Jenny Ann's permission, he had the water near the houseboat thoroughly dredged. But Tania's little body was not found for the second time down in the bottom of the bay. It was not possible to have all the water in the neighborhood dragged in a single day, so Tom said nothing of his fears to his anxious friends.

It was late in the evening. Miss Jenny Ann had prepared dinner for the weary and disheartened girls. She had snowy biscuit, broiled ham, roasted potatoes, milk, and honey, the very things her charges usually loved. Tom Curtis felt impelled to go back home. All that day he had seen nothing of his mother or of their visitor, Philip Holt, and Tom was afraid they would begin to wonder what had become of him.

Madge caught Tom by the sleeve and looked at him with beseeching eyes. "Please don't go, Tom," she begged, with a catch in her voice, "I am sure your mother won't mind. She has Mr. Holt with her, and I can't bear to see you go."

Tom and Madge were near the gangplank of the houseboat and Tom was trying to make up his mind what he should do, when he and Madge caught sight of a gray-clad figure walking toward them through the twilight mists.

"It's Mother," explained Tom in a relieved tone. "Now I can make it all right with her."

"And that horrid Philip Holt isn't along," declared Madge delightedly, "so I can tell her about poor little Tania."

Mrs. Curtis caught Madge, who had run out to meet her, by the hand. "My dear child, what is the matter with you?" the older woman asked immediately. "Even in this half-light I can see that your face is pale as death and you look utterly worn out. If one of you is ill, why have you not sent for me?"

When Madge faltered out her story of the lost Tania Mrs. Curtis hugged her to her in the old sympathetic way that the little captain knew and loved.

"I am so sorry, dear," soothed Mrs. Curtis, "but I am sure than Tom and Philip Holt will find her. I suppose that is why they have both been away all day."

"Philip Holt!" exclaimed Tom in surprise. "He hasn't been with us. I thought he was at home with you."

Mrs. Curtis shook her head indifferently. "No; he hasn't been at the cottage all day. Have any of you thought to send word to Captain Jules to ask him about Tania? It may be that the child is with him. In any event, I know Captain Jules would give us good advice."

"Bully for you, Mother!" cried Tom, glad to catch a straw as he saw the shadow on Madge's face lighten. "As soon as I have had a bite of supper with the girls I'll get hold of a boat and go after the captain."

Tom did not have to make his journey up the bay to "The Anchorage" that night. While he and his mother were at supper with the girls they heard the sound of Captain Jules's voice calling to them over the water. He had to come ashore lower down the bay, where the water was deeper than it was near the houseboat, but he always hallooed as he approached.

"O Jenny Ann!" faltered Madge, trembling like a leaf, "it is our captain. Perhaps he has brought Tania back with him. I—I—hope nothing dreadful has happened to her."

Without a word Tom fled off the houseboat. A moment later he espied Captain Jules coming toward him, alone!

"Halloo, son!" called out Captain Jules cheerfully. "Glad to know that you are down here with the girls. Funny thing, but I've had these girls on my mind all day. It seemed to me that they needed me, and I couldn't go to bed without finding out that everything was well with them. What's wrong?" Captain Jules had caught a fleeting glimpse of Tom's harassed face. "Is it—is it Madge?" he asked anxiously. "Is anything the matter with my girl?"

Tom shook his head reassuringly. It took very few words to make the captain understand that the trouble was over Tania and not Madge.

When, a moment later, the captain went aboard the "Merry Maid" he was able to smile bravely at the discouraged women.

"Here, here!" he cried gruffly, while Madge clung to one of his horny hands for support and Eleanor to the other, "what is all this nonsense I hear? Tania is not really lost, of course. I'll bet you we find the little witch in no time. She has just gone off somewhere in these New Jersey woods to join the fairies she talks so much about. They are sure to take good care of her. We can't do much more looking for her to-night, but I'll find her first thing in the morning."

Both Captain Jules and Mrs. Curtis insisted that the girls and Miss Jenny Ann go early to bed. Just as Captain Jules was saying good night it occurred to Miss Jenny Ann that she would rather turn over to the old sailor the box of coins and jewelry. While Tania was lost there would be so many persons in and out of the houseboat that Miss Jenny Ann feared something might happen to the valuables.

She went to the drawer in the sideboard in the saloon cabin without thinking of the key under her pillow, and took hold of the knob. To her surprise the drawer opened readily. There was no iron safe inside it. Miss Jenny Ann ran to her bed and felt under her pillow. The key was still there as though it had never been disturbed.

Captain Jules and Tom decided that the simple lock to the houseboat sideboard had been easily broken open. When, or how, or by whom, nobody knew, but it was certain that the jewels and money were gone. Fortune, the fickle jade, who had brought the houseboat girls such good luck only a short time before, had now cruelly stolen it away from them.



CHAPTER XIX

THE WICKED GENII

Tania had been aroused in the night by seeing a dark figure standing with his back to her only a few feet from her bed. Involuntarily the child stirred. In that instant a black-masked face turned toward her and Tania gave the single, terrified scream that Madge had heard. Before Tania could call out again, a handkerchief was tied so closely around her mouth that she could make no further sound.

A moment later the mysterious, sinister visitor picked the child up in his arms and bore her swiftly and quietly away from the shelter of the houseboat and her beloved friends. The little girl was very slender, yet her abductor staggered as he walked. He had something besides Tania that he was carrying.

About a quarter of a mile from the houseboat Tania was dumped into the rear end of an automobile and covered with a heavy steamer blanket. Then the automobile started off through the night, going faster and faster, it seemed to her, with each hour of darkness that remained.

At times the little prisoner slept. When she awakened she cried softly to herself, wondering who had stolen away with her and what was now to become of her. But Tania was only a child of the streets and she had been reared in a harder school than other happier children, so she made no effort to cry out or escape. She knew there was no one near to hear her, and the motor car was moving so swiftly that she could not possibly escape from it.

Tania and her unknown companion must have ridden all night. Evidently the driver of the car had not cared about the roads. He had pushed through heavy sand and ploughed over deep holes regardless of his machine. Speed was the only thing he thought of.

By and by the automobile stopped, after a particularly bad piece of traveling. The driver got down, lifted Tania, still wrapped in her blanket, in his arms and carried her inside a house. The child first saw the light in an old room, up several flights of steps, which was drearier and more miserable than anything she had ever beheld in her life in the tenements. It was big and mouldy, and dark with cobwebs swinging like dusty curtains over the windows that had not been washed for years. The windows looked out over a swamp that was thick with old trees.

But Tania saw none of these things when the blanket was first lifted from her head. She gave a gasp of fright and horror. For the first time she now realized that her captor was her childhood's enemy and evil genius, Philip Holt.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, with a long-drawn sigh that was almost a sob, "it is you! Why have you brought me here? What have I done?" Then a look of unearthly wisdom came into Tania's solemn, black eyes. She continued to stare at the young man so silently and gravely that Philip Holt's blonde face twitched with nervousness.

"Didn't you recognize me before?" he asked fiercely. "You were quite likely to shriek out in the night and spoil everything, so I had to carry you off with me, little nuisance that you are! You can just make up your mind, young woman, that you will stay right here in this room until I can take you to that nice institution for bad children that I have been telling you about for such a long time. You'll never see your houseboat friends again."

Tania made no answer, and Philip Holt left her sitting on the floor of the gloomy room wide-eyed and silent.

For three days Tania stayed alone in that cheerless room. She saw no one but an old, half-foolish man who came to her three times a day to bring her food. He gave Tania a few rough garments to dress herself in and treated the little prisoner kindly, but Tania found it was quite useless to ask the old man questions. She was a wise, silent child, with considerable knowledge of life, and she understood that there was nothing to be gained by talking to her jailer, who would now and then grin foolishly and tell her that she was to be good and everything would soon be all right. Her nice, kind brother was going to take her away to school as soon as he could. The wicked people who had been trying to steal her away from her own brother should never find her if her brother could help it.

So the long nights passed and the longer days, and little Tania would have been very miserable indeed except for her fairies and her dreams. It is never possible to be unhappy all the time, if you own a dream world of your own. Still, Tania found it much harder to pretend things, now that she had tasted real happiness with her houseboat girls, than she had when she lived with old Sal. It wasn't much fun to play at being an enchanted princess when you knew what it was to feel like a really happy little girl. And no one would care to be taken away to the most wonderful castle in fairyland if she had to leave the darling houseboat and Madge and Miss Jenny Ann and the other girls behind.

So all through the daylight Tania sat with her small, pale face pressed against the dirty window pane, waiting for Madge to come and find her. She even hoped that a stranger might walk along close enough to the house for her to call for aid. But a dreary rain set in and all the countryside near Tania's prison house looked desolate. More than anything Tania feared the return of Philip Holt. Once he got hold of her again, she knew he would fulfill his threats.

During this dreadful time Tania had no human companion, but she was not like other children. She was part little girl and the rest of her an elf or a fay. The trees, the birds, and flowers were almost as real to her as human beings. For, until Madge and Eleanor had found her dancing on the New York City street corner, she had never had anybody to be kind to her, or whom she could love.

Just outside Tania's window there was a tall old cedar tree. Its long arms reached quite up to her window sill, and when the wind blew it used to wave her its greetings. Inside the comfortable branches of the tree there was a regular apartment house of birds, the nests rising one above the other to the topmost limbs.

Tania held long conversations with these birds in the mornings and in the late afternoons. She told them all her troubles, and how very much she would like to get away from the place where she was now staying. However, the birds were great gad-abouts during the day, and Tania could hardly blame them.

There was one fat, fatherly robin that became Tania's particular friend. He used to hop about near her window and nod and chirp to her as though to reassure her. "Your friends will come for you to-day, I am quite sure of it," he used to say, until one day Tania really spoke aloud to him and was startled at the sound of her own voice.

"I don't believe you are a robin at all," she announced. "I just believe you are a nice, fat father of a whole lot of funny little boys and girls. I believe you are enchanted, like me. Oh, dear! I was just beginning to believe that I wasn't a fairy after all but a real little girl with pretty clothes and friends to kiss me good night." Tania sighed. "I suppose I must be a fairy princess after all, for if I was a real little girl no one would have cast another wicked spell over me and shut me up in this dungeon in the woods, which is a whole lot worse than living with old Sal."

Yet playing and pretending, and, worse than anything, waiting, grew very tiresome to Tania. On the morning of the fourth day of her imprisonment Tania awoke with a start. Something had knocked on her window pane. It was only the old cedar tree, and Tania turned over in bed with a sob. But the tapping went on. She got up and went to her window. Quick as a flash Tania made up her mind to run away. Why had she never thought of it before? It was true, her bedroom door was always locked, but here were the branches of the cedar tree reaching close up to her window. Really, this morning they seemed to speak quite distinctly to Tania:

"Why in the world don't you come to me? I shall hold you quite safe! You can climb down through all my arms to the warm earth and then run away to your friends."

It was just after dawn. The pink sky was showing against the earlier grayness when Tania slipped into her coarse clothes and, like a small elf, crept out of her window into the friendly branches of the old tree. She was silent and swift as a squirrel as she clambered down. But she need not have feared. No one in the lonely country place was awake but the child.

Once on the ground, Tania ran on and on, without thinking where she was going. She only wished to get far away from the dreary house where Philip Holt had hidden her. There was a thick woods about a mile or so from Tania's starting place. No one would find her there. Once she was through it Tania hoped to find a town, or at least a farm, where she could ask for help. In spite of her queer, unchildlike ways, Tania knew enough to understand that if she could only find some one to telegraph to her friends they would soon come to her.

But the forest through which Tania hoped to pass was a dreadful cedar swamp, and in trying to cross it Tania wandered far into it and found herself hopelessly lost.



CHAPTER XX

A BOW OF SCARLET RIBBON

In the three days that had passed since the disappearance of Tania from the houseboat everything that was possible had been done to discover her whereabouts.

It never occurred to Tom or to Mrs. Curtis to connect Philip Holt's odd behavior with the lost Tania or the vanished treasure box. True, he had not been seen for the past three days, but Mrs. Curtis had received a note from him the day after his disappearance from her house, saying that he had been unexpectedly called away on very important business so early in the morning that he had not wished to awaken her, but he had left word with the servants and he hoped that they had explained matters to her.

Mrs. Curtis's maids and butler insisted that Mr. Holt had given them no message. They had not seen or heard him go. So, as Mrs. Curtis did not regard Philip Holt's withdrawal as of any importance, she gave very little thought to it.

Madge Morton, however, had a different idea. She laid Tania's disappearance at Philip Holt's door. She, therefore, determined to take Tom Curtis into her confidence, but to ask him not to betray their suspicions of Philip Holt to Mrs. Curtis until they had better proof of the young man's guilt. Madge had never told even Tom that she had once overheard Philip Holt reveal his real identity, nor how much she had guessed of the young man's true character from Tania's unconscious and frightened reports of him.

Tom at first was indignant with Madge, not because she and the other girls believed that Philip Holt had stolen both their little friend and their new-found wealth, but because she had not sooner shared her suspicion of his mother's guest with him. Tom had never liked Philip, so it was easy for him to think the worst of the goody-goody young man.

Without a word to Mrs. Curtis, Tom and the houseboat girls set to work to trace Philip Holt, believing that once he was overtaken Tania and the stolen treasure would be accounted for.

It was not easy work. Philip Holt had not been a hypocrite all his life without knowing how to play the game of deception. A detective sent to New York City to talk to old Sal had nothing worth while to report. The woman declared positively that Philip was no connection of hers; that she had neither seen nor heard of the young man lately. As for Tania, Sal had truly not set eyes on her from the day that Madge had taken the little one under her protection.

Philip Holt knew well enough that his mother would be questioned about his disappearance. He believed that Tania had told Madge his true history. So old Sal was prepared with her story when the detective interviewed her. Yet it was curious that the Cape May police were unable to find out in what manner the young man had left the town. Inquiries at the railroad stations, livery stables, and garages gave no clue to him.

The houseboat girls were in despair. Madge neither ate nor slept. She felt particularly responsible for Tania, as the child had been her special charge and protege. Madge had been deeply grieved when her friend, David Brewster, had been falsely accused of a crime in their previous houseboat holiday, when they had spent a part of their time with Mr. and Mrs. Preston in Virginia; but that sorrow was as nothing to this, for David was almost a grown boy and able to look after himself, while Tania was little more than a baby. When no news came of either Philip Holt or Tania, Madge began to believe that Philip Holt had accomplished his design. He had managed to shut Tania up in some kind of dreadful institution. The little captain did not believe that they would ever find the child, and was so unhappy over the loss of her Fairy Godmother that she lost her usual power to act.

Phyllis Alden, however, was wide awake and on the alert. She knew that it was not possible for Philip Holt to leave Cape May without some one's assistance. Some one must know how and when he had disappeared. The whole point was to find that person.

Phil thought over the matter for some time. Then she quietly telephoned to Ethel Swann and asked her to arrange something for her. She made an appointment to call on Ethel the same afternoon, and she and Lillian walked over to the Swann cottage together. It seemed strange to Madge that her two friends could have the heart for making calls, but, as there was absolutely nothing for them to do save to wait for news of Tania that did not come, she said nothing save that she did not feel well enough to accompany them.

As Lillian and Phyllis Alden approached the Swann summer cottage they saw that Ethel had with her on the veranda the two young people who had been most unfriendly to them during their stay at Cape May, Roy Dennis and Mabel Farrar.

Roy Dennis got up hurriedly. His face flushed a dull red, and he began backing down the veranda steps, explaining to Ethel that he must be off at once.

Phyllis Alden was always direct. Before Roy Dennis could get away from her she walked directly up to him, and looking him squarely in the eyes said quietly: "Mr. Dennis, please don't go away before I have a chance to speak to you. It seems absurd to me for us to be such enemies, simply because something happened between us in the beginning of the summer that wasn't very agreeable. I wished to ask you a question, so I asked Ethel to arrange this meeting between us this afternoon."

"What do you wish to ask me?" he returned awkwardly.

Phil plunged directly into her subject. "Weren't you and Philip Holt great friends while he was Mrs. Curtis's guest?" she asked.

Roy Dennis looked uncomfortable. "We were fairly good friends, but not pals," he assured Phil.

"But you, perhaps, know him well enough to have him tell you where he was going when he left Mrs. Curtis's," continued Phil in a calmly assured tone. "Mrs. Curtis has not received a letter from him since he left here, so she does not know just where he is. We girls on the houseboat would also like very much to know what has become of Mr. Holt."

"Why?" demanded Roy Dennis sharply.

Phyllis determined to be perfectly frank. "I will tell you my reason for asking you that question," she began. "You may not know it, but our little friend, Tania, disappeared from Cape May the very same day that Philip Holt left the Cape. We all knew that Mr. Holt had known Tania for a number of years before we met her. He thought that the child ought to be shut up in some kind of an institution, but Miss Morton wished to put the little girl in a school. So it may just be barely possible that Mr. Holt took Tania away without asking leave of any one." Phil made absolutely no reference to the stolen money and jewels in her talk with Roy Dennis. If they could run down Philip Holt and Tania the treasure-box would be disclosed as a matter of course.

Roy Dennis hesitated for barely a second. Then he remarked to Phil, half-admiringly: "You have been frank with me, Miss Alden, and, to tell you the truth, I think it is about time that I be equally frank with you. I have no idea where Philip Holt now is, but I do know something about how he got away from Cape May, and I am beginning to have my suspicions that there might have been something 'shady' in his behavior that I did not think of at the time. Three nights ago, it must have been about eleven o'clock, I was just about ready for bed when Mr. Holt rang me up and asked to speak to me alone. He said that he had just had bad news and wished to get out of Cape May as soon as possible. He asked me if I would lend him my car so that he could drive to a nearby railroad station where he could get a train that would take him sooner to the place he wished to go. I thought it was rather a strange request and asked him why he didn't borrow Tom Curtis's car? He said that Mrs. Curtis had gone to bed and that he did not like to disturb her. He and Tom had never been friendly, so he did not wish to ask him a favor. Well, I can't say I felt very cheerful at letting Philip Holt have the use of my car, but he said that he would send it back in a few hours and it would be all right. I got it out for him myself and he drove away in it. It didn't come back until this morning, and you never saw such a sight in your life, covered with mud and the tires almost used up."

Phil nodded sympathetically. "Who brought the car back to you?" she asked. "Was it Mr. Holt?"

Roy Dennis shrugged his heavy shoulders. "No, indeed! He sent it back by a chap who wouldn't say a word about himself, Holt, or from which direction he had come."

"Is the man still in town?" asked Phil, her voice trembling, "and would you mind Tom Curtis's asking him some questions? We are so awfully anxious."

Roy Dennis rose quickly. "I believe the fellow is around yet, and I'll get hold of him and take him to Tom at once. I don't think that Philip Holt has had anything to do with the kidnapping of the little girl, but his whole behavior looks pretty funny. We will make the chauffeur chap tell us where Philip Holt was when he turned over my car to him." Roy was off like a flash.

Phyllis and Lillian were making their apologies to Ethel for being obliged to hurry off at once to the houseboat when Mabel Farrar took hold of Phil's hand. Her usually haughty expression had changed to one of the deepest interest. "I am so sorry about the little lost girl," she said. "I hope you will soon find her. She is a queer, fascinating little thing. I have watched her all summer, and she certainly can dance. I can't believe that Philip Holt has actually stolen her, yet I don't know. Roy Dennis just told Ethel Swann and me something awfully queer. He says he found a bright scarlet ribbon, like a bow that a child would wear in her hair, in the bottom of his motor car when the chauffeur brought it back to him to-day."

Phil's black eyes flashed. "If I ever needed anything to convince me that Philip Holt stole Tania away from us that would do it," she returned indignantly. "Little Tania slept every night with her hair tied up with a scarlet ribbon so as to keep it out of her eyes. When we find where Philip Holt is we shall find Tania, and if I have any say in the matter he shall answer to the law for what he has done."



CHAPTER XXI

THE RACE FOR LIFE

It took the united efforts of the Cape May police, Tom Curtis, and Roy Dennis to make the chauffeur who had come back with Roy's car say where he had met Philip Holt, and when Philip had turned over the automobile to him to be brought back to Roy.

The chauffeur was frightened; he finally broke down and told the whole story. Philip Holt had driven from the farmhouse where he left Tania to the nearest village. There he had hired the chauffeur and the man had taken Philip within a few miles of New York. In the course of the ride, Philip had told the automobile driver the same story about Tania that he had told the old man in the tumbled-down farmhouse:

Tania was Philip's sister. He was hiding her from enemies, who wished to steal the child away from him. If anybody inquired about the child or about him the chauffeur was to say nothing. Philip would pay him handsomely for bringing the car back to Cape May.

The reason that Philip Holt had sent back Roy Dennis's automobile was because he knew that Roy would put detectives on his track if he failed to return it. Besides, it would be far easier for Philip Holt to get away with his precious iron safe if he were free of all other entanglements.

It was nearly midnight before the story that the chauffeur told was clear to Tom Curtis. The man believed that he knew the very house in which Tania was probably concealed. There was no other place like it near the town where the chauffeur lived.

Tom got out his own automobile. The chauffeur would ride with him. They would go directly to the old farmhouse. Tania would be there and all would soon be well.

It was about nine o'clock the next morning when Tom's thundering knock at the rickety farmhouse door brought the foolish old man to open it. As soon as Tom mentioned Tania, the old fellow was alarmed. He was stupid and poor, but Philip Holt's behavior had begun to look strange even to him.

The old farmer was glad to tell Tom Curtis everything he knew. It was all right. Tania was safe upstairs. He would take Tom up at once to see her. He was just on his way up to take Tania her breakfast. Indeed, the old man explained with tears in his eyes, he had not meant to assist in the kidnapping of a child. He was only a poor, lonely old fellow and he hadn't meant any harm. He had never seen Philip until the moment that the young man appeared at his door in his automobile and asked him to look after his sister for a few days.

The farmer's story was true. Philip Holt had no idea how he could safely dispose of Tania. Quite by accident, as he hurried through the country, he had espied the old house. If Tania could be kept hidden there for a few days he would then be able to decide what he could do with her.

Tom would have liked to bound up the old stairs three steps at a time to Tania's bedroom door. Poor little girl, what she must have suffered in the last three days! But Tom's thought was always for Madge. Before he followed the farmer to Tania's chamber he wrote a telegram which he made the chauffeur take over to the village to send immediately. It read: "All is well with Tania. Come at once." And it was addressed to Madge Morton.

Tom was trembling like a girl with sympathy and compassion when he finally reached little Tania's bedroom door. He wished Madge or his mother were with him. How could he comfort poor Tania for all she had suffered?

Tania's jailer unlocked the door and knocked at it softly. The child did not answer. He knocked at it again and tried to make his voice friendly. "Come to the door, little one," he entreated. "I know you will be glad to see who it is that has come to take you back to your home."

Still no answer. Tom could endure the waiting no longer, but flung the door wide open. No Tania was to be seen. There was no place to look for her in the empty room, which held only a bed and a single chair. But a window was open and the arm of the old cedar tree still pressed close against the sill. Tom could see that small twigs had been broken off of some of the branches. He guessed at once what had happened. Tania had climbed down this tree and run away. But Tom felt perfectly sure that he would be able to find her before the houseboat party and his mother could arrive.

The houseboat girls and Miss Jenny Ann were overjoyed at Tom's telegram. Mrs. Curtis was with them when the message came. She was perhaps the happiest of them all, although she had never been an especial friend of little Tania's. In the last few days her conscience had pricked her a little and her warm heart had sorrowed over the missing child.

Yet, up to this very moment, Mrs. Curtis did not know the truth about Philip Holt. Just before they started for the train that was to bear them to Tom and Tania Madge told Mrs. Curtis that Philip had stolen the child from them and that they also believed he had run off with their treasure-chest.

Mrs. Curtis listened very quietly to Madge's story. When the little captain had finished she asked humbly, "Can you ever forgive me, dear? I am an obstinate and spoiled woman. If only I had listened to what you told me about Philip this sorrow would never have come to you. Tom also warned me that I was being deceived in Philip Holt. But I believed you were both prejudiced against him. When we recover Tania I shall try to make up to her the wrong I have done her, if it is ever possible."

During the journey Madge and Mrs. Curtis sat hand in hand. Captain Jules looked after Miss Jenny Ann, Lillian, Phil and Eleanor, although he was almost as excited by Tom's news as they were.

At the country station the chauffeur was waiting to drive Tania's friends to the lonely old farmhouse that the child had thought a dungeon.

Tom and Tania would probably be standing in the front yard when the automobile arrived. They were not there. The old farmer explained that Tom and Tania had gone out together. They would be back in a few minutes. To tell the truth, the man did expect them to appear at any time. He could not believe that Tania was really lost, although Tom had been searching for her since early morning and it was now about four o'clock in the afternoon.

For two hours the houseboat party waited. The girls walked up and down the rickety farmhouse porch, clinging to Captain Jules. Mrs. Curtis and Miss Jenny Ann remained indoors. At dusk Tom returned. He was alone and could hardly drag one foot after the other, he was so weary and heartsick. To think that after wiring her he had found Tania he must face Madge with the dreadful news that the child was lost again!

Two long, weary days passed without news of the lost Tania. The houseboat party made the old farmhouse their headquarters while conducting the search. At first no one thought to penetrate the cedar swamp where Tania had hidden herself, but the idea finally occurred to Tom Curtis, and on the third morning he and Captain Jules started out.

All that third anxious day the girls searched the immediate neighborhood for Tania. When evening came they gathered sadly in the wretched farmhouse, to await the return of Tom Curtis and the old sea captain.

Madge was lying on a rickety lounge, with her face buried in her hands. Phyllis was sitting near the door. Mrs. Curtis stood at the window, watching for the return of her son. In a further corner of the room, Miss Jenny Ann, Lillian and Eleanor were talking softly together.

Suddenly each one of the sad women became aware of the captain's presence as his big form darkened the doorway. A ray of light from their single oil lamp shone across his weather-beaten face. Phil saw him most distinctly and read disaster in his glance. With the unselfish thought of others that invariably marks a great nature, she went swiftly across the room and dropped on her knees beside Madge.

Madge sprang from her lounge and stumbled across the room toward the old sailor. Phil kept close beside her.

"Tania!" whispered Madge faintly, for she too had seen the captain's face. "Where is my little Fairy Godmother?"

"We have found Tania, Madge," said Captain Jules gently, "but she is very ill. We found her lying under a tree in the swamp, delirious with fever. She is almost starved, and she is so frail—that——" The old man's voice broke.

"Don't say she is going to die, Captain Jules," implored Mrs. Curtis. "If she does, I shall feel that I am responsible. Surely, something can be done for her." The proud woman buried her face in her hands.

At that moment Tom entered, bearing in his arms a frail little figure, whose thin hands moved incessantly and whose black eyes were bright with fever.

With a cry of "Tania, dear little Fairy Godmother, you mustn't, you shan't die!" Madge sprang to Tom's side and caught the little, restless hands in hers.

For an instant the black eyes looked recognition. "Madge," Tania said clearly, "he took me away—the Wicked Genii." Her voice trailed off into indistinct muttering.

"She must be rushed to a hospital at once." Captain Jules's calm voice roused the sorrowing friends of little Tania to action.

"I'll have my car at the door in ten minutes," declared Tom huskily. "Make her as comfortable as you can for the journey."

It was in Captain Jules's strong arms that little Tania made the journey to a private sanatorium at Cape May. Madge sat beside the captain, her eyes fixed upon the little, dark head that lay against the captain's broad shoulder. The strong, magnetic touch of the old sailor seemed to quiet the fever-stricken child, and, for the first time since they had found her, Tania lay absolutely still in his arms.

Mrs. Curtis occupied the front seat with her son, who drove his car at a rate of speed that would have caused a traffic officer to hold up his hands in horror. It had been arranged that Tom should return to the farmhouse as soon as possible for the rest of the party.

No one of the occupants of the car ever forgot that ride. Once at the hospital, no time was lost in caring for Tania. The physician in attendance, however, would give them no satisfaction as to Tania's condition beyond the admission that it was very serious. Mrs. Curtis engaged the most expensive room in the hospital for the child, as well as a day and night nurse, and, surrounded by every comfort and the prayers of anxious and loving friends, Tania began her fight for life.



CHAPTER XXII

CAPTAIN JULES LISTENS TO A STORY

Tania did not die. After a few days the fever left her, but she was so weak and frail that the physician in charge of her case advised Mrs. Curtis to allow her to remain in the sanatorium for at least a month. When she should have sufficiently recovered Mrs. Curtis had decided to take upon herself the responsibility of the child's future. She had been a constant visitor in the sickroom and during the long hours she had spent with the imaginative little one had grown to love her, while Tania in turn adored the stately, white-haired woman and clung to her even as she did to Madge, a fact which pleased Mrs. Curtis more than she would admit.

Philip Holt was discovered hiding in New York City. The treasure-box was in the keeping of old Sal, for Philip had not dared to dispose of the coins or the jewelry while the detectives were on the lookout for him. Tom Curtis saw that the case against Philip Holt was conducted very quietly. The houseboat girls had had enough trouble and excitement. Their treasure was restored to them and they had no desire ever to hear Philip Holt's name mentioned again.

Tom Curtis was more curious. In questioning Philip, Tom learned that he himself was innocently to blame for Philip's crime. Holt recalled to Tom the fact that, on returning from the houseboat after spending the evening with Captain Jules and his friends, Tom had mentioned to his mother that the precious iron safe was on the houseboat, and that if she cared to look at the old jewelry again Miss Jenny Ann would unlock the sideboard drawer and show it to her the next day. In that moment Philip Holt decided on his theft, but he did not expect Tania to thwart him. He had slipped through one of the open staterooms into the dining room of the houseboat, broken the lock of the sideboard and opened the dining room door from the inside to make his escape. Philip Holt believed that in taking Tania with him he had accomplished his own downfall.

If he had not stopped to leave the child at the deserted farmhouse, his movements would never have been traced.

Madge Morton was a good deal changed by the events of the last few weeks. She was so unlike her usual happy, light-hearted and impetuous self that Miss Jenny Ann and the houseboat girls were worried about her. They ardently wished that Madge would fly into a temper again just to show she possessed her old spirit. But she was very gentle and quiet and liked to spend a good deal of the time alone.

Miss Jenny Ann consulted with Lillian, Phil and Eleanor. They decided to write to David Brewster to ask him to come to spend a few days with them on the houseboat. Madge was fond of David and the young man had done such fine things for himself in the past year that her friends hoped a sight of him would stir her out of her depression.

David was visiting Mrs. Randolph—"Miss Betsey"—in Hartford. He replied that he would try to come to Cape May in another week or ten days, but please not to mention the fact to Madge until he was more sure of coming.

One bright summer afternoon Madge returned alone from a long motor ride with Mrs. Curtis and Tom. She found the houseboat entirely deserted and remembered that the girls and Miss Jenny Ann had had an engagement to go sailing. She curled up on the big steamer chair and gave herself over to dreams.

A small boat, pulled by a pair of strong arms, came along close to the deck of the "Merry Maid." Madge looked up to see Captain Jules's faithful face beaming at her.

"All alone?" he called out cheerfully. "Come for a row with me. I'll get you back before tea."

Madge wanted to refuse, but she hardly knew how, so she slipped into the prow of the skiff and sat there idly facing him.

Captain Jules frowned at the girl's pale face, which looked even paler under the loose twists of her soft auburn hair. Madge looked older and more womanly than she had the day the captain first saw her. There was a deeper meaning to the upper curves of her full, red lips and a gentler sweep to the downward droop of her heavy, black lashes. She was fulfilling the promise of the great beauty that was to be hers. It was easy to see that she had the charm that would make her life full of interest.

Still Captain Jules frowned as though the picture of Madge and her future did not please him.

"How much longer are you going to stay at Cape May, Miss Morton?" he inquired.

Madge smiled at him. "I don't know anything about 'Miss Morton's' plans, but Madge expects to be here for about two weeks more."

Recently the captain had been calling the houseboat girls by their first names, as he was with them so constantly in their trouble. But he had now decided that he must return to the formality of the beginning of their acquaintance. It was best to do so.

"And afterward?" the old sailor questioned, pretending that he was really not greatly interested in Madge's reply.

The girl's expression changed. "I don't know," she returned. "Of course, Eleanor and I will go back to 'Forest House' for a while. Aren't you glad that Uncle has been able to pay off the mortgage? When Nellie and Lillian go to Miss Tolliver's and Phil to college I don't know exactly what I shall do. Mrs. Curtis and Tom have asked me to make them a visit in New York next winter."

The captain frowned again. It was well that Madge was looking over the water and not at him, for she never could have told why he looked so displeased.

"You and Tom Curtis are very good friends, aren't you, Madge?" said Captain Jules abruptly.

Madge smiled to herself. She felt as though she were in the witness box. Was her dear old captain trying to cross-examine her?

"Of course, I like Tom better than almost any one else. He is awfully good to me. You know you like Tom yourself, so why shouldn't I?" she ended wickedly.

"I like him. Certainly I do. He is a fine, upright fellow and his money hasn't hurt him a mite, which you can't say of the most of us. But it's a different matter with you, young lady, and I want you to go slowly."

"But I am not going at all, Captain," laughed Madge. "It seems to me that I want only one thing in the world, and that's to find my father. Sometimes I am afraid that perhaps I shall never find my father after all!"

Captain Jules coughed and his voice sounded rather husky. It had a different note in it from any that Madge had ever heard him use to her.

"Don't play the coward, child," he said sternly; "just because you have had one defeat don't go about the world saying you must give up. It may be that your father did that once and is sorry for it now. Keep up the fight. No matter how many times we may be knocked down in this world, if we have the right sort of courage we'll always get up again."

Madge sat up very straight. Her blue eyes flashed back at Captain Jules with an expression that he liked to see. "I am not going to give up my search," she answered defiantly. "One hears that it is Fate which separates two persons. If I find Father, I shall feel that I have won a victory over Fate. But I can't help longing to tell my father that I know that he is innocent of the fault for which he was disgraced and dismissed from the Navy, and that I have the proof in my possession that would make it clear to all the world as well as to me."

The old captain gave vent to a sudden exclamation that sounded like a groan. His face looked strangely drawn under his coat of tan.

"Are you sick, Captain Jules?" asked Madge hastily. "Do take my place and let me have the oars. I am sure I can row you."

Captain Jules smiled back at her. "What made you think I was sick?" he asked. "What was that you were telling me? How do you know that your father was guiltless of his fault? Why, Captain Robert Morton was one of the kindest men that ever trod a deck, and yet he was convicted of cruelty to one of his own sailors."

"Captain Jules," continued Madge earnestly, "I would like to tell you the whole story if you have time to listen to it. You know I promised long ago to tell you. Two years ago, when we were on the second of our houseboat excursions, we spent part of our holiday near Old Point Comfort. There I met the man who had been my father's superior officer. Some unpleasant things happened between his granddaughter and me, and she told my father's story at a dinner in order to humiliate me. Long afterward her grandfather heard of what his granddaughter had done and he made a statement before my friends which cleared my father's name. He confessed to having allowed my father to suffer for something he had commanded him to do. My father was too great a man to clear himself at the expense of his superior officer, so he left the Navy in disgrace and has never been heard of since that dreadful time.

"There isn't much more to tell. Only the old admiral has died since I met him. However, he left a paper that was sent to me, in which he acquits my father of all blame and takes the whole responsibility for my father's act on himself. Must we go back home, Captain Jules?" for, at the end of her speech, Madge observed that the captain had turned his skiff and was rowing directly toward the houseboat. He handed Madge aboard a few moments later with the air of one whose mind is elsewhere.

It was impossible for Miss Jenny Ann to persuade the old pearl diver to remain to supper. With very few words to any of the party he turned Madge over to her friends and rowed hurriedly away toward his home.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE VICTORY OVER FATE

Early the next morning word was brought by a small boy that Captain Jules Fontaine wished Miss Madge Morton to come out to "The Anchorage" alone, as he had some important business that he wished to talk over with her.

It was a wonderful morning, all fresh sea breezes and sparkling sunshine. Madge had not felt so gay in a long time as when the other houseboat girls fell to guessing as to why Captain Jules desired her presence at his house.

"He intends to make you his heiress, Madge," insisted Lillian. "Then, when you are an old lady, you can come down here to live in the house with the roof like three sails, and ride around in the captain's rowboat and sailboat and be as happy as a clam."

Madge shook her head. "No such thing, Lillian. I don't believe the captain wants me for anything important. He may be going to lecture me, as he did yesterday afternoon. At any rate, I'll be back before long. Please save some luncheon for me."

Madge was surprised when her boat landed near "The Anchorage" not to see Captain Jules in his front yard, with his funny pet monkey on his shoulder, waiting to receive her. She began to feel afraid that the captain was ill. She had never been inside his house in all their acquaintance. But Captain Jules had sent for her, so there was nothing for her to do but to march up boldly to his front door and knock.

She lifted the heavy brass knocker, which looked like the head of a dolphin, and gave three brisk blows on the closed door.

At first no one answered. The little captain was beginning to think that the boy who came to her had made some mistake in his message and that Captain Jules had gone out in his fishing boat for the day, when she heard some one coming down the passage to open the door for her.

She gave a little start of surprise. A tall, middle-aged man, with a single streak of white hair through the brown, was gazing at her curiously.

"I would like to see Captain Jules," murmured Madge stupidly, unable to at once recover from the surprise of finding that Captain Jules did not live alone.

The strange man invited Madge into a tiny parlor which rather surprised her. The room was filled with bookshelves, reaching almost up to the top of the wall. The young girl had never dreamed that her captain was much of a student. The only things that reminded her of Captain Jules were the fishnets that were hung at the windows for curtains and the great sprays of coral and sponge which decorated the mantelpiece.

The man sat down with his back to the light, so that he could look straight into Madge's face.

"Captain Jules will be here after a little, Miss Morton," he said gravely, "but he wished me to have a talk with you first."

Madge looked curiously at the unknown man. She could not obtain a very distinct view of his face, but she saw that he was very distinguished looking, that his eyes seemed quite dark, and that he wore a pointed beard. He did not look like an American. At least, there was something in his appearance that Madge did not quite understand. It struck her that perhaps the man was a lawyer. It could not be that Lillian was right in her guess. The treasure in the iron safe had not yet been sold, so it might be that this man wished to make some offer for it. Whoever he might be the silence was becoming uncomfortable. The little captain decided to break it.

"I wonder if you wish to talk to me about the treasure that we found?" she inquired, smiling. "I would rather that Captain Jules should be in here when we speak of that."

The stranger shook his head. He had a very beautiful voice that in some way fascinated the girl.

"No, I don't wish to talk about your treasure, but I do wish to speak of something else that was lost and is found again. I don't know that you will value it, child, or that it is worth having, but Captain Jules thinks you might."

Madge's heart began to beat faster. This strange man had something of great importance to tell her. She wondered if she had ever seen him anywhere before. There was something in his look that was oddly familiar. But why did he look at her so strangely and why did not her old friend come to her to end this foolish suspense?

"I have been down here on a visit to Captain Jules a number of times this summer and he has always talked of you," went on the fascinating voice. "I have longed to see you, but——Miss Morton, Captain Jules Fontaine and I knew your father once, long years ago. The news that you had proof of his innocence made us very happy last night."

Madge would have liked to bounce up and down in her chair, like an impatient child. Only her age restrained her. Why didn't this man tell her the thing he was trying to say? What made him hesitate so long?

"Yes, yes," she returned impatiently, "but do you know whether my father is alive now? That is the only thing I care about."

Madge gripped both arms of her chair to control herself. She was trembling so that she felt that she must be having a chill, though it was a warm summer day, for the stranger had risen and was coming toward her, his face white and haggard. Then, as he advanced into the brighter light of the room, Madge saw that his eyes were very blue.

"Your father isn't dead," the man replied quietly. "He is here in this very house, and he cares for you more than all the world in spite of his long silence!"

The little captain sprang to her feet, her face flaming. "Captain Jules! He is my father? He seemed so old that I didn't realize it. Yet he has said so many things to me that might have made me guess he knew everything in the world about me. Oh, where is he? My own, own Captain Jules?"

The stranger, whose arms had been outstretched toward Madge, let them fall at his sides, but Madge had no eyes for him. Captain Jules had entered the room and she had flung herself straight into his kindly arms.

So, after all, it was Captain Jules Fontaine who had to make it clear to Madge that he was not her father, but her father's lifelong and devoted friend. The captain told Madge the story while he held both her cold hands in his big, rough ones, and the man who was her own father sat watching and waiting for her verdict.

Jules Fontaine had never been captain of anything but a sailing schooner, but he had been a gunner's mate on Captain Robert Morton's ship. He alone knew that Captain Morton had been forced into the fault that he had committed by order of his admiral. When Captain Morton was dismissed from the United States Naval Service Jules Fontaine, gunner's mate, had procured his discharge and followed the fortunes of his captain. The two men drifted south to the tropics. Every American vessel is equipped with a diving outfit, and some of the men are taught to go down under the water to examine the bottoms of the boats. Jules Fontaine liked the business of diving. When the two men found themselves in a strange land, without any occupations, Captain Jules joined his fortunes with the pearl divers and for many years followed their perilous trade.

Captain Morton had a harder time to get along, but after a while he studied foreign languages and began to translate books. Five years before the two men had come back to the United States. Since that time Captain Morton had tried to follow every movement of his daughter. Captain Jules wanted his friend to make himself known to his own people, but Robert Morton feared that they would never forgive his long silence or his early disgrace. He believed that Madge would be happier without knowledge of him. It was her own longing for her father, reported by Captain Jules, that had impelled Robert Morton at last to reveal himself to her.

Madge could not comprehend all of this at once. She did not even try to do so. She realized only that, after being without any parents, she had suddenly come into two fathers at the same time, her own father and Captain Jules, who was her more than foster father.

With a low, glad cry she went swiftly across the room. She did not try to think or to ask questions at that moment about the past, she only flung her young arms about her father's neck in a long embrace, feeling that at last she had some one in the world who was her very own.

While Madge, her father, and Captain Jules were trying to see how they could bear the miracle and shock of their great happiness, a small, dark object darted into the room and planted its claws in Madge's hair. It pulled and chattered with all its might.



The little captain laughed with the tears in her eyes. "It's that good-for-nothing monkey!" she exclaimed as she disentangled the creature's tiny hands. Then she kissed her father and afterwards Captain Jules. "Now I know why this monkey is called Madge, and I am sorry to have such a jealous, bad-tempered namesake."

The captain scolded the monkey gently. "Don't you fret about this particular namesake. If you only knew all the others you have had! Every single pet that two lonely old men could get to stay around the house with them we have named for you."

Captain Morton did not go back to the houseboat with his daughter. Madge thought she would rather tell her friends of her great happiness alone. She wouldn't even let Captain Jules escort her. "You'll both have plenty of my society after a while," she argued, "for I am going to come to keep house for you at 'The Anchorage' some day."

Madge rowed slowly back to the "Merry Maid." She was thinking over what she would say to Miss Jennie Ann and the girls. How should she announce to them that her quest was ended, her victory over Fate won?

As she neared the houseboat she saw that her companions were gathered on deck, evidently watching for her. Madge rested on her oars and waved one hand to them. Four hands waved promptly back to her. A moment more and she had come alongside the "Merry Maid." As she clambered on deck she cast a swift upward glance at her friends, who, with one accord, were looking down on her, their faces full of loving concern.

With a little cry of rapture Madge threw herself into Miss Jenny Ann's arms. "O, my dear!" she cried, "I've found him! I've found my father!"

And it was with her faithful mates' arms around her that Madge told the strange story of how her quest had ended in the little sitting room of "The Anchorage."



CHAPTER XXIV

THE LITTLE CAPTAIN STARTS ON A JOURNEY

Six weeks had passed since Madge Morton's discovery of her father, and many things had happened since then. It was now toward the latter part of September, and on a beautiful fall morning one of the busy steamship docks in the lower end of New York City was crowded with a gay company of people. There were four young girls and three young men, a beautiful older woman, with soft, white hair and a look of wonderful distinction; a woman of about twenty-six or seven, with a man by her side, who in some way suggested the calling of the artist; a white-haired old man and an elderly lady, who, in spite of the fact that she answered to the name of Mrs. John Randolph, would have been mistaken anywhere for a New England spinster. Two men were the only other important members of the group. One of them was a distinguished-looking man of about fifty-three with a rather sad expression, and the last a bluff old sea captain, whose laugh rang out clear and hearty above the sound of the many voices.

In front of the wharf lay a beautiful steam yacht, painted pure white and flying a United States flag. The boat was of good size and capable of making many knots an hour, but she looked like a little toy ship alongside the immense ocean-going steamers that were entering and leaving the New York harbor, or waiting their sailing day at their docks.

One of the girls, dressed in a white serge frock and wearing a white felt hat, was walking up and down at the back of the crowd, talking to a young man.

"David, more than almost anything, I believe I appreciate your coming to New York to see me off. It would have been dreadful to go away for a whole year, or maybe longer, without having had a glimpse of you. Who knows what may happen before I am back again?" The girl's eyes looked wistfully about among her friends, although her lips smiled happily.

For a few seconds the young man made no answer. He had never been able to talk very readily, now he seemed to wish to think before he spoke.

"I shall be a man, Madge, before you are back again," he replied slowly. "I am twenty now, so I shall be ready to vote. But, best of all, I shall be through college and ready to go to work." The young man threw back his square shoulders. His black eyes looked serious and steadfast. "I am going to make you proud of me, Madge. You remember I told you so, that day in the Virginia field, when you helped me out of a scrape and started me on the right road."

The little captain nodded emphatically. "I am proud of you already, David," she declared warmly. "I think it is perfectly wonderful that you have been able to take two years' work in college instead of one, beside helping Mr. Preston on the farm. You are going to make me dreadfully ashamed when I come back, by knowing so much more than I. Phil enters Vassar this fall and Tom will graduate at Columbia in another year. I am going to try to study on the yacht, but I shall be so busy seeing things that I know I won't accomplish very much. Just think, David, I am going around the world in our own boat with my father and Captain Jules! Isn't it wonderful how one's dreams come true and things turn out even better than you expect them to? I believe, if it weren't for leaving my beloved houseboat chums and Mrs. Curtis and Tom, and Miss Jenny Ann and you, I should be the happiest girl in the world."

"I don't suppose I count for much, Madge," answered David honestly, "but I am more grateful to you than you can know for putting me on that list. Some day——" The young man hesitated, then his sober face relaxed and a brilliant smile lighted it. "It's pretty early for a fellow like me to be talking about some day, isn't it, Madge?"

Madge laughed, though she blushed a little and answered nothing.

Just then Phyllis Alden and a young man in a lieutenant's uniform joined Madge and David Brewster.

"Lieutenant Jimmy is saying dreadful things, Madge," announced Phil mournfully. "He says he is sure you won't come back home in a year. You'll stay over in Europe until you are grown up or married, or something else, and you'll never be a houseboat girl again!" Phil's voice broke.

Lieutenant Jimmy looked uncomfortable. "See here, Miss Alden," he protested, "I never said anything as bad as all that. I only said that perhaps Captain Morton and Captain Jules would stay longer than a year. Almost any one would, if they owned that jolly little yacht."

"I'll wager you, Lieutenant Jimmy, a torpedo boat full of the same kind of candy that you sent us at the end of our second houseboat holiday, that if you come down to this dock one year from to-day you will see our yacht, which Captain Jules has named 'The Little Captain,' paying her respects to the Statue of Liberty. Come, let's go and make Father and Captain Jules convince him, Phil," proposed Madge, hugging Phyllis close to her, as if the thought of being parted from her for so long as one year was not to be borne.

"I'll take that wager, Miss Morton," replied Lieutenant Jimmy jokingly, "because I would be so awfully glad to have to pay it."

"Madge simply must come back on time, Lieutenant Jimmy," whispered Phil, nodding her head mysteriously toward a young woman and a man. "It's a state secret, and I ought not to tell you, but Miss Jenny Ann and Mr. Theodore Brown, the artist, are to be married a year from this fall. We must all be at the wedding. Miss Jenny Ann couldn't possibly be married unless every one of the 'Mates of the Merry Maid' were there. If we can arrange it, Miss Jenny Ann is going to be married on the houseboat. Won't it be the greatest fun?"

For the moment Phil was so cheered at the thought of another houseboat reunion, though a whole twelve months off, that she forgot that her best beloved Madge was to leave in another half-hour for her trip around the world.

Phyllis and Lieutenant Jimmy were standing a little behind Madge. David Brewster stopped to talk to Mrs. Curtis and Tom.

At the far end of the dock Captain Jules Fontaine was giving some orders to four sailors who formed the entire crew of his new yacht, for the old pearl diver was to pilot his own boat, which was to sail under Captain Morton's orders. The beautiful little yacht was Captain Jules's own property. The old man had made a comfortable fortune in his life in the tropics, but he had little use for it, and no desire, except to make Madge and her father happy. The little captain's love for the water was what endeared her most to the old sailor. He could not be happy away from the sea and he couldn't be happy away from Madge and Captain Morton. The fortunate girl's two fathers had discussed very seriously Madge's own proposal to come to keep house for them at "The Anchorage." Both men knew that she could not settle down at their lonely little house far up the bay and several miles from the nearest town, which was Cape May. Wonderful as the fathers thought Madge, they realized that she was very young and must go on with her education. They could not bear to send her away to college after all the long years of separation. Captain Jules conceived the brilliant idea of educating her by taking her on a trip around the world. The old sailor couldn't have borne being cooped up in liners and on trains with other people to run them. So Madge's dream of a ship all her own, which was to sail "strange countries for to see," had come true with her other good fortune.