HOW IT WAS ALL ARRANGED
Madge's valedictory address was almost over. She had spoken of
"Friendship," what it meant to a girl at school and what it must mean to
a woman when the larger and more important difficulties come into her
life. "Schoolgirl friendships are of no small consequence," declaimed
Madge; "the friendships made in youth are the truest, after all!"
Phil listened to her chum's voice, her eyes misty with tears. Only a
half-hour before she and her beloved Madge had come very near to having
the first real quarrel of their lives. Phil turned her gaze from Madge to
glance idly at the arch of flowers above her friend's head. Phil supposed
that she must be dizzy from the heat of the room, or else that she could
not see distinctly because of her tears; the arch seemed to be swaying
lightly from side to side, as though it were blown by the wind. Yet the
room was perfectly still. Phil looked again. She must be wrong. The arch
was built of a framework of wood. It was heavy and she did not believe it
would easily topple down.
Madge was happily unconscious of the wobbling arch. A few more lines and
her speech would be ended! There was unbroken silence in the roomy chapel
of the girls' school, where the commencement exercises were being held.
Suddenly some one in the back part of the room jumped to his feet. A
hoarse voice shouted, "Madge!"
Madge started in amazement. Her manuscript dropped to the ground. Every
face but hers blanched with terror. The swaying arch was now visible to
other people besides Phil. Tom leaped to his feet, but he was tightly
wedged in between rows of women. Phil Alden made a forward spring just as
the arch tumbled. She was not in time to save Madge, but some one else
had saved her; for, before Phil could reach the front of the stage,
Madge's name had been called again. Although the voice was an unknown
one, Madge instinctively obeyed it. She made a little movement, leaning
out to see who had summoned her, and the arch crashed down just at her
back.
The quick cry from the audience frightened Madge, whose face was turned
away from the wreck. She swung around without discovering her rescuer.
Some one had fallen on the stage. Phyllis Alden had reached her friend's
side, not in time to save her, but to receive, herself, a heavy blow from
the great bell that was suspended from the arch.
Madge dropped on the stage at Phil's side, forgetting her speech and the
presence of strangers.
Miss Tolliver and Miss Jenny Ann lifted Phyllis before Dr. Alden had had
time to reach the stage. There was a dark bruise over Phil's forehead. In
a moment she opened her eyes and smiled. "I am not a bit hurt, Miss
Matilda; _do_ let the exercises go on," she begged faintly. "Let Madge
and me go up to the front of the stage and bow, Miss Matilda. Then I can
show people that I am all right. We must not spoil our commencement in
this way."
Miss Matilda agreed to this, and Madge and Phyllis went forward to the
center of the stage. A storm of applause greeted them. Madge and Phil
were a little overcome at the ovation. Madge supposed that they were
being applauded because of Phil's heroism, and Phil presumed that the
demonstration was meant for Madge's valedictory, therefore neither girl
knew just what to do.
It was then that Miss Matilda Tolliver came forward. She was usually a
very severe and imposing looking person. Most of her pupils were
dreadfully afraid of her. But the accident that had so nearly injured her
two favorite graduates had completely upset her nerves. Instead of making
a formal speech, as she had planned to do, she stepped between the two
girls, taking a hand of each. "I had meant to introduce Miss Alden a
little later on to our friends at the commencement exercises," announced
Miss Tolliver, "but I believe I would rather do it now. I wish to state
that, although Miss Morton has delivered the valedictory, Miss Phyllis
Alden's average during the four years she has spent at my preparatory
school has been equally high. It was her wish that Miss Morton should be
chosen to deliver the valedictory. But Miss Alden's friends have another
honor which they wish to bestow upon her. She has been voted, without her
knowledge, the most popular girl in my school. Her fellow students have
asked me to present her with this pin as a mark of their affection."
Miss Matilda leaned over, and before Phil could grasp what was happening
had pinned in the soft folds of her organdie gown the class pin, which
was usually an enameled shield with a crown of laurel above it; but the
center of Phil's shield was formed of small rubies and the crown of tiny
diamonds.
Phyllis turned scarlet with embarrassment, but Madge's eyes sparkled with
delight. She was no longer ashamed of having been chosen as
valedictorian. In spite of herself, Phyllis Alden was the star of their
commencement.
It was not until the four girls were seated with their dear ones about a
round luncheon table in the largest hotel in Harborpoint that Madge
suddenly recalled the stranger whose warning cry had probably saved her
from a serious hurt.
Mrs. Curtis and Tom were entertaining in honor of Madge and Phyllis.
There were no other guests except the two houseboat girls, Eleanor and
Lillian, Dr. and Mrs. Alden, and Mr. and Mrs. Butler.
Madge sat next to Tom Curtis, and during the progress of the luncheon
managed to say softly: "Did you see who it was that called my name so
strangely this morning, Tom? I was so frightened at having to deliver my
valedictory that when I heard that sudden shout, 'Madge!' I was too much
confused to recognize the voice."
Tom shook his head. "I don't know who it was. I heard the voice but
couldn't discover its owner. It must have been some one at the very back
of the room, for no one in the audience seems to know who called out to
you."
"I suppose I'll never know," sighed Madge. "It is a real commencement day
mystery, isn't it?"
Tom nodded smilingly. "By the way, Madge, where are the houseboat girls
going to spend the summer after you come to Madeleine's wedding?" he
asked. "You must be tired after your winter's work."
Madge shook her head soberly. "We are not going to be on the houseboat
this year," she whispered. "Going to New York to be bridesmaids is about
as much as four girls can arrange. We haven't even dared to think of the
houseboat."
"I have," interposed Phyllis, who had heard the remark and the reply,
"but we don't wish our families to know. You see, Madge and I are hoping
and planning to go to college next winter, so, of course, we can't afford
another summer holiday," she ended under her breath.
"What's that, Phil?" inquired Dr. Alden from the other end of the table.
Phil blushed. "Nothing important, Father," she answered.
"Oh, then I must have been mistaken," replied Dr. Alden, "for I thought I
caught the magic word, 'houseboat.' No one of you girls has ever spoken
of the 'Merry Maid' as unimportant."
A cloud instantaneously overspread five faces about the luncheon table.
Neither Mrs. Curtis nor Dr. Alden realized that in mentioning the
houseboat they had forced the houseboat passengers to break a vow of
silence. Only the day before the five of them had met in Miss Jenny Ann
Jones's room. There they had solemnly pledged themselves that, since it
was impossible for them to have this year's vacation aboard the "Merry
Maid," they would bear the sorrow in silence. This time there was no
"Miss Betsey" to pay the expenses of the trip. The girls and Miss Jenny
Ann hadn't a dollar to spare. The cost of going to Madeleine Curtis's New
York wedding was appalling to all of the girls except Lillian, whose
parents were in affluent circumstances. But, of course, Madeleine was
almost a houseboat girl herself. Readers of the first houseboat story
will recall how Madeleine's fiance, Judge Hilliard, rescued Madge and
Phyllis from a serious situation and saved Madeleine from a far worse
plight than that in which he found the two girls.
"Mrs. Curtis," remarked Dr. Alden in the midst of the mournful silence,
"Mr. and Mrs. Butler, my wife and I have just been talking things over.
We have decided that it would be a good thing for our girls to spend
several weeks on board their houseboat. But, of course, if they have
decided differently----"
It was a good thing that Mrs. Curtis was not giving a formal luncheon. A
united shriek of delight suddenly arose from four throats. Madge sprang
from the table to hug her uncle, Eleanor blew kisses to her mother from
across the room, Lillian clapped both hands, and Miss Jenny Ann smiled
rapturously.
Phil's face was the only serious one. "Are you sure we can afford it,
Father?" she queried.
Dr. Alden nodded convincingly. "For a few weeks, certainly," he
returned.
"Then we don't need to worry about afterward," rejoined Madge. "And don't
you think, girls, it will be perfectly great, so long as we are going to
Madeleine's wedding in New York, for us to spend this holiday at the
seashore?"
"Where, Madge?" asked Lillian.
"I'll tell you," answered Mrs. Curtis, "only, not to-day. It is a secret.
Here is our pineapple lemonade. Let's hope for the happiest of holidays
for the little captain and her crew aboard the good ship 'Merry Maid'."