Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 24

Madge clenched her hands to keep them from trembling, but she could feel her knees shaking under her.

The patient opened her eyes again. "I fell off the yacht, didn't I?"

she inquired. "It's funny, but I couldn't think what had happened to me for a long time. I was trying to remember all night. It was such a long night. I kept seeing dreadful, rude men, who were cruel to me. I must have been dreaming. Where is my mother? Why doesn't she come to me?"

"Your mother!" exclaimed Madge. A glance from Phil silenced her.

"Your mother can't come to you now, she is----" Phyllis faltered.

"Never mind," the gentle girl spoke faintly. "Mother may be resting.

She must have been dreadfully frightened when she learned I had tumbled overboard. I think something fell and struck me on the head."

"Don't talk any more, please, dear," entreated Phyllis. "You can tell us all about what happened when you have rested a little longer. You are very tired."

The sick girl dozed again. Phyllis and Madge slipped their aching arms out from under their patient's pillow.

"Mollie's memory has come back to her, hasn't it?" Madge breathed in her chum's ear. "I wonder if it will go away again, or if she will remember more about herself when she is stronger?"

"I believe her memory has returned," Phil answered softly. "It is a miracle. We must be very careful. Any excitement or surprise might kill her. I wish the doctor were here."

Some one stole across the room without a sound. The girls knew it must be Mrs. Curtis. Neither one of them stirred nor for the instant glanced at their friend; they were too intent on their patient. But they were grateful for her presence. She had heard Mollie's peculiar remarks. She would know what they ought to do when Mollie began to talk again.

Mrs. Curtis came so close to the sick girl's bed that Madge and Phil stepped back to let her have the nearest place. She leaned over and looked at Mollie as though she would never grow tired of gazing at her.

Once her lips moved, but it was impossible to tell what she said. Then Mrs. Curtis's strength seemed to give way. She dropped on her knees, with her arms resting on the edge of Mollie's bed.

Ten minutes pa.s.sed. No one moved or spoke in the tiny cabin chamber.

Mollie slept peacefully. Mrs. Curtis did not stir. She was like a figure carved in stone. She was waiting for something to happen. Was it for the girl on the bed to speak again?

Madge and Phil scarcely dared to breathe. They did not understand the situation, but they felt themselves to be in the presence of a mystery.

A drama was being enacted in the tiny room, and they were the only audience to it.

"Mother, where are you?" Mollie's voice sounded clear and strong.

"I am here," Mrs. Curtis replied softly, not stirring from her position by the bed.

"Why hasn't Tom been here to see me? And why are Phyllis and Madge so good to me? I don't understand."

Mollie turned restlessly on her pillow. Her hair fell away from her forehead and revealed the jagged, ugly scar. Mrs. Curtis saw it. For the first time she gave an involuntary shudder of emotion. Mollie put up her hand to her head with the old, familiar gesture of pain.

"My head hurts," she announced, as though she had not known of her injury before. "Have I been sick a long time? Somehow, you look so different."

Mrs. Curtis nodded. "Yes, daughter, you have been ill a long, long time. But you will be well and happy when you wake up again. You are with Mother now."

Mrs. Curtis gathered Mollie into her arms and the two girls stole out of the tiny cabin, closing the door behind them. The mother and daughter were alone.

"What has happened to you, Madge Morton? Why do you girls look so strangely at me?" demanded Tom Curtis as he caught sight of Madge's face. He was leaning against the deck rail staring curiously at his friends. "Is Mollie worse?"

"Oh, no; she is not worse. She is well. That is, she can remember.

She is---- Oh, I don't know what I am saying," cried Madge in confusion.

Miss Jenny Ann came out of the sitting room. Lillian and Eleanor also joined the little group on deck. Still Madge was silent.

"Ought I to tell?" she faltered, looking at Phyllis. "Don't you think Mrs. Curtis ought to tell Tom?"

"If you have bad news for me speak quickly!" returned Tom. "I would rather hear it from you than anybody in the world. You are almost like a sister to me, Madge."

The little captain went forward and put her hand gently on Tom's arm.

"You won't need me for a sister now, Tom," she said gently. "Phil and I do not understand what has happened. Your mother will have to explain to you. But our Mollie is not Mollie at all. Her name is Madeleine. Her memory has come back to her. She thinks your mother is her mother. And Mrs. Curtis called her daughter!"

The cabin door opened. Mrs. Curtis walked out, moving like a woman in a dream. "Don't speak loudly," she said. "Madeleine has gone to sleep." She crossed over to Tom. "Tom," she explained quietly, "the girls have found your sister after twelve years; my baby is a young woman."

Tom put his arm about his mother. Mrs. Curtis spoke rapidly now, as though she feared her voice would fail her. "Miss Jones, years ago my little daughter, who was ten years old, fell from our steam yacht. She had been left alone by her nurse for a few minutes. When the woman came back the child was not to be found. No one saw or heard her fall overboard. The boat was searched, but Madeleine had disappeared. We were off the coast of Florida. For months and months we searched for my daughter's body. We offered everything we had in the world for news of her. No word came. I used to think she would come back to me.

Long ago I gave up hope. Now, when I saw this poor Mollie, I thought I recognized my child, and when she opened her eyes her memory returned to her. She knew I was her mother, in spite of my white hair. I think it is because she now remembers nothing of her unhappy past. She thinks she was hurt only a short time ago. She must not learn the truth until she is stronger. Will you keep me here with you until I can take my daughter home?"

Mrs. Curtis staggered slightly and grew very white. It was Madge who sprang to her side and led her to a chair. "You have found what you want most in the world," she whispered, "I am so glad for your sake."

CHAPTER XXIV

FAREWELL TO THE MERRY MAID

"Miss Jenny Ann, I can't get all these things packed in this barrel,"

protested Madge despairingly. "I don't see how they ever got in here before."

Miss Jenny Ann laughed from the depths of a large box, where she was folding sheets and placing them in neat piles. "Remember, we have added a number of tin pans to our store since we came aboard the houseboat. But don't worry, dear. We will get all the belongings packed in time."

"Isn't it too awful that the houseboat has to be left to its poor dear self for the rest of the summer? Just think, we have had over six weeks' holiday, and, if it weren't for Madeleine, it would seem like six days."

"I have something to tell you, Madge," announced Miss Jenny Ann, raising a flushed face from her task. "Do you remember when you came into the library, at school, and found me crying over a letter? I told you that I was frightened at what my doctor had written me. I have a different story to tell now. I am well as well can be. I have gained ten pounds in six weeks; that is a record, isn't it?"

"I am so glad," bubbled Madge. "You've been the jolliest kind of a chaperon, dear Miss Jenny Ann, and we love you. You know I am sorry I used to be so disagreeable to you at school, and you do like me now, don't you?"

Miss Jenny Ann and Madge desisted from their labors long enough to embrace each other.

"Here, here, what is all this love-feast about?" demanded Tom Curtis cheerfully. He had come quietly aboard the houseboat, and was standing at the cabin door, smiling cheerfully at the little captain.

"Go away, Tom," returned Madge reproachfully. "I told you we couldn't have any company to-day. I said good-bye to you last night. We are getting things in shape to leave the houseboat. A man who has a boat-house is going to take care of the 'Merry Maid' for us until we come into another fortune and have another holiday."

"What time does your train leave?" inquired Tom coolly, picking up a hammer and preparing to fasten the top on Madge's barrel.

"At four o'clock," sighed Madge. "We are going to Baltimore together, and start home from there."

"It is all right, then," answered Tom Curtis placidly. "I have plenty time to stay to luncheon."

"Tell him he can't, Miss Jenny Ann Jones," declared Madge inhospitably, "we haven't a thing to eat except some crackers and stale bread, and a few odd pieces of cold meat. And I am so dreadfully hungry that I can eat them all myself."

"I am going to stay just the same," a.s.serted Tom. "I am going to be the busiest little worker on the 'Merry Maid'."