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MADGE MORTON'S SECRET
by
AMY D. V. CHALMERS
Author of Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid;
Madge Morton's Trust, Madge Morton's Victory.
[Illustration: The Girl in the Apple Tree Read on.
_Frontispiece._]
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company
Copyright, 1914,
by Howard E. Altemus
CONTENTS
CHAPTER.
PAGE.
I. THE INTERRUPTED STORY 7
II. WHAT MADGE FOUND IN THE ATTIC 18
III. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 35
IV. THE CHALLENGE 46
V. THE MYSTERIOUS BOX 57
VI. FLORA BETRAYS A STATE SECRET 66
VII. AWARDING THE PRIZES 76
VIII. THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH 95
IX. MADGE MORTON'S SECRET 102
X. ADRIFT ON CHESAPEAKE BAY 108
XI. THE AWAKENING 120
XII. A DESERTED ISLAND 132
XIII. LIFE IN THE WOODS 142
XIV. CAUGHT IN A STAMPEDE 152
XV. BEHIND CLOSED DOORS 165
XVI. THE DISAPPOINTED KNIGHTS 173
XVII. CAN WE GO TO THE RESCUE? 183
XVIII. A NEW USE FOR A KITE 193
XIX. THE IMPOSSIBLE HAPPENS 201
XX. THE RECOGNITION 212
XXI. BACK TO THE "MERRY MAID" 219
XXII. THE STARS AND STRIPES FOREVER 226
XXIII. THE SURPRISE 237
XXIV. THE TELLING OF THE SECRET 248
Madge Morton's Secret
CHAPTER I
THE INTERRUPTED STORY
A girl in a green gown was cosily ensconced among the spreading
branches of an old apple tree. She was reading, and she never stirred
except to turn the pages of her book or to reach out for another red
apple after dropping the core of the previous one.
It was a glorious morning in early September, and the old Virginia
orchard was sweet with the odor of ripening apples. A press under a
tree still dripped with the juices of yesterday's cider-making. The
bees and flies buzzed lazily about it. There was no one but the girl in
sight.
Some distance to the left was a red brick house, separated from the
orchard by a low stone fence and the length of the kitchen garden. It
had a big, white colonnaded balcony in front and a smaller veranda in
the rear.
The girl in the apple tree read on, unaware that a carriage had driven
up to the front of this house and that a woman and a young man were
alighting from it. A few moments later a girl came out on the back
veranda. She put her hands to her lips and hallooed. She whistled and
called. Then she ran up and down the garden, searching everywhere.
"Madge, Madge! where are you?" she cried. "Oh, do answer me in a hurry!
I have something so important to tell you!"
The girl in the apple tree did not stir. She was oblivious to
everything except her story. Her cousin, Eleanor, called and called
again, then ran to the stables. Pompey, the colored boy, declared that
he had not seen Miss Madge all morning. Once Eleanor leaned over the
orchard fence. The green of Madge's frock was too near the color of the
foliage to show through the trees. Eleanor gave up her search in
despair.
"All right, Madge Morton," she murmured, "if you will go off by
yourself without telling a soul where you are going, you must take the
consequences--though I am so sorry," added Eleanor. "Poor Madge will be
so disappointed."
An hour later a book dropped from the apple tree to the ground,
bringing a scurry of leaves with it. Madge Morton descended after her
book, swinging herself down without a thought of her dignity. "Oh, dear
me!" she exclaimed. "Why did I have to drop my book when I had only a
few more pages to read? I suppose it is nearly luncheon time now, and I
ought to see what has become of Nellie."
Madge strolled lazily along under the fruit trees. Now and then she
stopped to look critically at the heavily-laden branches. Mr. William
Butler, her uncle, owned a fruit farm, consequently the girl was
interested in their autumn and winter crop of apples.
At the gate of the orchard she paused to peep at her book for another
stolen moment and came face to face with her cousin. Although it was
not yet midday, Eleanor Butler had on a white company frock and her
hair had been freshly braided. Madge did not see her cousin at first.
Nellie eyed her sympathetically, but at the same time her face wore an
expression of disapproval. "Where have you been, Madge?" she demanded.
"You've gone and done it this time, I can tell you; I have been looking
for you for more than an hour."
"Sorry, Coz," returned Madge lightly. "Did Aunt Sue want me? I have
been reading in the orchard. But why are you dressed so bravely? We
can't be having a party at this early hour of the day."
Nellie looked serious. "We have not had a party," she returned, "but we
have had some visitors. We had iced tea and cakes on the front porch,
too."
"Lucky me, to have escaped the company, Eleanor. It is much too warm
for morning callers, even if it is September," declared Madge
indifferently. "I'll wager that they talked gossip and bored you and
Auntie dreadfully."
"They did no such thing," replied Eleanor, nettled by her cousin's
bantering tone. "If you'll stop talking a minute, I'll tell you who our
visitors were. You'd never be able to guess in a thousand years. Our
old friends, Mrs. Curtis and Tom, have been to 'Forest House' to see
us. They were passing through the town on their way to Richmond and
stopped over between trains."
"Take me to them, take me to them!" cried Madge, setting off for the
house on a run, closing the orchard gate behind her with a force that
caused it to shut with a resounding bang.
Nellie followed her tempestuous relative, calling, "You can't see them.
That is just the trouble. Mrs. Curtis and Tom drove away about a
quarter of an hour ago. I am so sorry, but I did look for you
everywhere; so did Pompey. We called and called you. Mrs. Curtis and
Tom were dreadfully disappointed. They were afraid to wait any longer
for fear they would miss their train. They left a great deal of love
for you. Mrs. Curtis was charmed with 'Forest House.' You may see them
soon again. Mrs. Curtis wants us----"
"Oh, I am so sorry I missed them," lamented Madge. "When does Mrs.
Curtis's train go?"
"At one o'clock," answered Eleanor. "Mother wished them to stay to
luncheon, but they had hired such a slow old horse at the station that
they thought it wisest to leave in time."
"And they have been on the way only a quarter of an hour?" questioned
Madge. "I know what I am going to do: I am going to ride Dixie down to
the station. I know I can overtake Tom and Mrs. Curtis before their
train leaves the station. I may be able to get just a peep at them.
Here, take my book, please, Nellie. Make it all right with Uncle
William and Aunt Sue. I am sure to be late for luncheon." Madge was off
across the fields, running as though her life depended on it.
Readers of "MADGE MORTON, CAPTAIN OF THE 'MERRY MAID'" already know the
story of how four girls, with more enthusiasm than money, found and
transformed a dilapidated old canal boat into the pretty floating
summer home which they christened the "Merry Maid" and launched on a
quiet shore of Chesapeake Bay.
Their subsequent meeting with a Mrs. Curtis and her son, Tom, persons
of wealth and social position, who were summering at one of the
fashionable hotels along the shore of the bay, prepared the way for a
series of eventful happenings in which the crew of the "Merry Maid"
amply proved their mettle.
It was through the efforts of Madge Morton and Phyllis Alden that a
young woman was rescued from the clutches of a family of rough and
uncouth fisher folk, and taken aboard the "Merry Maid," where it
developed that she was none other than the daughter of Mrs. Curtis who
had been lost at sea twelve years previously.
After a succession of happy weeks on the houseboat, the girls repaired
to their various homes to spend the remainder of their vacations with
their families. They had promised Mrs. Curtis, however, that for two
weeks before returning to school they would be her guests on their own
houseboat, which she had arranged to have removed from Pleasure Bay,
where it still lay, to a spot opposite Old Point Comfort, where she and
her son and daughter were spending a few weeks before returning to New
York City.
Madge knew without being told that the time for their happy holiday had
come. Still, it was not of this she was thinking as she raced across
the fields. She had missed Mrs. Curtis more than she could say, and her
sole desire was to see the woman who had done so much to add to their
pleasure on their previous trip.
In a nearby meadow Dixie, Madge's fat black pony, was lazily eating
grass. Her mistress called to her coaxingly as she ran toward the
enclosure. But the pony was bent on a frolic. She heard Madge, saw her
approaching, and, eager for a game, the pony kicked her heels together
and trotted off across the field at a lively pace.
Madge was in despair. Every moment was precious. Why should Dixie
choose this time of all others to refuse to come when she called to
her? With a sudden thought Madge reached into her pocket. There, to her
joy, she discovered an uneaten red apple. Madge held it out invitingly,
standing perfectly still, as though she had no intention of stirring.
The pony threw back her head, neighed softly, then came trotting over
to her mistress and appropriated the apple; but the next instant
Madge's hand was in her mane, and she vaulted lightly on Dixie's
slippery back, still keeping a tight hold.
"Nellie," she called, as she cantered past her cousin, "tell Aunt Sue
she must forgive my riding bareback this time. I never will again. But
I simply couldn't wait to put a saddle on Dixie. I might miss seeing
Mrs. Curtis and Tom. No; they won't be shocked. They'll know it is only
Madge!"
She rode swiftly away, sitting on the pony's uncovered back as easily
as though she had been riding in the most comfortable of saddles.
It was three miles down the pike to the railway station nearest to the
old Butler homestead. Madge knew that her friends had hired a carriage
at the depot, and that her pony was capable of making twice the speed
of any horse that they had been able to hire. But the day was warm. It
was near Dixie's feeding time, and the animal saw no reason for making
unnecessary haste. Madge coaxed and urged her pet to do her best. If
she could only overtake her friends in their journey to the station!
But the pony would not hurry. At last Madge stopped under a big maple
tree, breaking off a switch. A few mild cuts from an unaccustomed whip
made Dixie leap ahead.
The pike followed the railroad track for a mile. At the end of the
mile, at a sharp curve, the track crossed the road. There was no
watchman stationed at the crossing to give the signal, not even a red
flag to tell of danger, only a great sign, printed in huge, black
letters: "Look Out for the Locomotive. Stop. Look. Listen."
A hundred times Mr. Butler had warned Eleanor and Madge of this
dangerous point in the road. Almost every day they crossed this track,
driving back and forth from the village and they had always heeded Mr.
Butler's warning.
To-day, just as reckless Madge neared this point in her journey, she
saw a rickety carriage drive over this crossing about a hundred yards
ahead of her.
"Wait, Mrs. Curtis! Stop, Tom!" cried Madge joyfully. Her blue eyes
were shining, her cheeks were flushed. Madge's old-time heedlessness
was upon her. She gave no thought to her promise to her uncle, to the
chance of the oncoming trains. Madge-fashion, she saw only the goal
ahead of her. "Go it, Dixie, darling!" she entreated, touching her pony
sharply with her maple switch.
At the girl's first call Tom Curtis had reined in the old horse he was
driving. His mother leaned out of the carriage to look back. "Madge!"
she cried sharply.
At the same instant Madge plunged recklessly toward the railroad
crossing. It was too late to rein in her pony. She and Dixie dared not
take that risk. She saw a huge monster bearing down upon her. A shriek
from the engine, a hoarse call from the engineer as he swept around the
curve and saw the pretty figure on the track so close to his train.
Madge felt the wave of heat from the locomotive. It seemed almost to
scorch her, it was so near. She felt her fingers stiffen with fear; her
hold on her pony's mane relaxed. She knew she was slipping off her
horse's back and down on the track.
But she was country born and bred. She had ridden horseback all her
life. In that moment of terror she flung herself forward, with both
arms about her pony's neck. Dixie gave a single, frightened leap. She
cleared the track just as the train raced by. Then Madge slid limply to
the ground, while her pony stood by her shivering with fear.
"Don't scold me, and don't tell Uncle," she pleaded as Mrs. Curtis and
Tom climbed hurriedly from the wagon and came back to her. "I know it
was dreadful of me, and Uncle would never have forgiven me if I had
killed myself."
At this characteristic speech both Madge and her friends laughed. Madge
kissed Mrs. Curtis affectionately. Then, holding out her hand to Tom,
she said, "Do you think I could let you get away without seeing you for
a minute at least? Perhaps you had better go on to the station. I will
follow you on Dixie. We can talk after we reach there."
The carriage, closely followed by Madge on her pony, reached the little
station at least ten minutes before the time for the Curtis's train.
Madge could not leave Dixie to walk to the front of the station, so
Mrs. Curtis and her son walked to the road where Madge had alighted and
stood waiting for them, one hand in her pony's mane.
Tom thought he had never seen her look so pretty, but he was too wise
to say so. He had learned by embarrassing experience that Mistress
Madge frowned disapprovingly at the slightest intimation of a
compliment.
"Tom and I stopped at 'Forest House' to tell you that we are ready for
you. We wish you four girls to be our guests as soon as you can make
ready to come to us. Your uncle and aunt have given their consent to
the arrangement. We leave it to you and Nellie to communicate with
Lillian, Phil, and Miss Jenny Ann. You must rally the houseboat party.
Write to Madeleine and me and tell us anything you think you would like
to do. We are at Old Point Comfort. Good-bye, dear; here comes our
train. Don't disappoint us."
Mrs. Curtis and Tom boarded their train, leaving Madge staring after it
in happy anticipation of the good times that were sure to be theirs
when once more aboard the "Merry Maid."