MADGE MORTON'S TRUST
David would make no reply to either Madge's or Tom's questionings. He
was sullen, angry and silent. After a while his two friends gave up in
despair. But Madge and Tom decided that it would be better not to tell
their dreadful secret to any one until the party was over. They did not
wish to spoil the evening for the others.
The two friends went back among the dancers and Madge danced the rest of
the evening as though nothing had happened. Yet all the time she felt
sick at heart. She had trusted David and looked on him as her friend,
while he had done her many kindnesses and she was grateful for them. In
spite of the evidence of her own eyes she told herself that she still
trusted him.
For the rest of the long evening David Brewster never left his own
chamber, where Tom had found him. He did not even trouble to take the
rest of the silver in to Mrs. Preston. He just sat, staring miserably in
front of him, looking old and haggard. The worst had happened. He had
been found with the stolen goods in his possession and he had
absolutely no explanation to make to his friends.
It was after one o'clock in the morning when the last guest had departed
from the Preston home.
"Dolly Varden looks tired," said Mrs. Preston kindly to Madge, who was
lingering near her. "You had better run upstairs to bed, my dear."
"O Mrs. Preston!" cried Madge brokenly, "something
strange--has--happened. Won't--you--make--David explain--it to--you?"
Then she threw her arms about the good woman's neck and began sobbing
disconsolately.
"What's the matter, little girl?" asked Mr. Preston in alarm. He had
come upon the scene just in time to witness Madge's outburst of grief.
But all Madge would say was: "Ask David. Make him explain. He isn't
guilty; I know he isn't. He didn't steal the silver and Miss Betsey's
money; I am sure he didn't."
While Madge was sobbing forth her defense of David, Ned, the old butler,
came hurrying in with an excited, "Won't you please come into your bed
room, sah; de silver am all back again."
Mr. Preston hurried after Ned. Sure enough, there was the silver, spread
out on the sidetable. David was nowhere to be seen, however, and Mr.
Preston decided not to ask the boy any questions that night concerning
the mysterious fashion in which the lost silver had suddenly been
returned. Neither would he discuss the situation with any member of the
household, and for this Madge was secretly very thankful.
David did not come down to breakfast with the family. Soon after Mr.
Preston went upstairs to his room. The household was strangely divided
in its feeling. Jack Bolling, Harry Sears and George Robinson were all
against David. Tom was silent and depressed. Miss Betsey Taylor had not
closed her eyes all night, and was extremely cross. She hated to admit
it, but her own judgment told her that David was a thief. Though Phil
was bitterly sorry and would have done anything in the world she could
to help David out of the scrape, she was forced to agree with Miss
Betsey.
The young people openly discussed the question of David's guilt. Only
Madge was absolutely silent. She would give no opinion one way or the
other. But poor David found an unexpected champion in Eleanor. She did
not believe that David had taken the money and silver. If he had, he
must have meant it for a joke, or he had had some other good reason.
Nellie felt perfectly sure he would explain later on.
The entire party was out on the veranda that led from the dining room
when Mr. Preston came back from his interview with David. Mr. Preston's
face was very grave, and sterner than any one of his young guests had
ever seen it. "The boy refuses to give me any explanation of his strange
behavior," announced Mr. Preston to his wife in a voice that they could
all hear. "He begs only that I let him leave the house at once. He says
that the silver is all safe, and that he will pay Miss Betsey back the
rest of her money as soon as he is able to earn it."
"What answer did you make to him, William?" asked Mrs. Preston
nervously. Her kind face was clouded with sympathy and regret.
"I told David that he most certainly should not leave us," returned Mr.
Preston severely. "I insisted that he come among us, as he has before,
and remain here until Mr. Curtis wishes to take his friends away. He
will then do what he thinks wisest with the boy. But David shall _not_
escape the penalty of his own act. I have no desire to punish him by
law. He has returned the stolen property, so I presume that he has had a
change of heart; but his refusal to explain why he committed the theft,
or to say that he is sorry for his deed, makes it hard for me to have
patience with him. He is very trying."
The gloomy morning went by slowly. The motor launch boys took Phil,
Lillian and Eleanor down the river bank. Madge would not go. The young
people wished to see that the houseboat was set in order for sailing,
and Tom suggested that they eat their luncheon aboard the "Sea Gull."
Only Madge guessed that generous-hearted Tom Curtis wished to spare
David the embarrassment of meeting his former friends so soon after his
disgrace.
David came down to Mrs. Preston's luncheon table. His face looked as
though it were cut from marble; only his black eyes burned brilliantly,
and his mouth was drawn in a fine, hard line. He bowed quietly as he
entered the room, but spoke to no one during the meal. Miss Betsey
talked to him kindly, and asked him to come to her room some time during
the afternoon.
David shook his head firmly. "It wouldn't do any good, Miss Taylor," he
said in a firm tone. "I am willing to let you do anything to me that you
like, but I have absolutely nothing to say."
After leaving the dining room, David hurried toward his retreat in the
woods. Madge had gone upstairs and was watching the lad from her open
window. As she saw him disappear down the road she ran quietly after
him.
David had the start of her and he strode on so rapidly that it was
difficult to catch up with him. Then, too, Madge did not wish David to
see her until they were both well away from the Preston house.
But once the boy had vaulted the fence into the field, Madge called
after him softly: "David, please stop a minute, won't you? I only wish
to speak to you."
David marched straight on. If he heard Madge, he did not turn his head.
She climbed the fence into the field after him and ran on. "David, don't
you hear me?" she panted, for David was walking faster than ever.
She was now so near to David that she knew there was no possibility of
his not knowing that she had called to him. When he did not turn his
head or show any sign of answering her, she stopped still in the center
of the field, with an involuntary exclamation of hurt surprise. Then she
turned her back on the boy and began to slowly retrace her steps toward
home.
David had heard every sound that Madge made, even to her last little
admission of defeat. As she moved away from him he stopped still. He
then swung himself around and gazed wistfully after her retreating form.
"If she asked me the truth, I think I would have to tell it to her," he
murmured to himself. "I don't dare trust myself. It is better that she
should think me the rude boor that I am. But I am not a thief; I wish I
could tell her that, at least."
Madge's eyes were full of tears as she stumbled back across the fields.
She was hurt, angry and disappointed. Somehow, in spite of everything,
she had believed that David could explain his mysterious possession of
the stolen property. She would not try again to tell him that she still
had faith in him, she thought resentfully.
The field was full of loose rocks and stones, but Madge was apparently
oblivious to this. Suddenly a stone rolled under her foot, giving her
ankle an unexpected wrench. With a little cry of pain she sank down on
the ground to get her breath. In an instant David Brewster was at her
side.
"I am afraid you have hurt yourself," he said humbly.
"No," she returned coldly. "I wrenched my ankle for a second; it is all
right now."
"Do let me help you home," offered David miserably.
Madge shook her head. "No, thank you; I wouldn't trouble you for
worlds," she protested icily.
"But you wouldn't trouble me; I should dearly love to do it," replied
David so honestly that the little captain's heart softened though her
severe manner never changed. "See here, Miss Morton," David burst out
impetuously, "if you won't let me take you home, do let me help you to
that old tree over there. You can't stay here in the broiling sun; it
will give you a dreadful headache. I know you don't want to speak to me,
and I will go right away again."
"I _did_ want to speak to you very much, David," returned Madge gently;
"only you would not let me."
"I know," answered David. "I did hear you call to me. I am not going to
lie to you, too. I didn't answer because I didn't dare."
Madge put her hand on David's arm and let him assist her across the
field to the tree. Her ankle was really well enough by this time for her
to have walked alone, but Madge was not quite ready to walk alone.
David sat down abruptly beside his companion under the shadow of a
mammoth tulip tree, staring moodily in front of him.
Madge said nothing. A minute, two minutes of silence passed.
"I don't believe you stole the things, David," she avowed simply.
David's eyes dropped and his face twitched. "How can you fail to believe
that I stole them?" he questioned doggedly. "I had them in my
possession. You know that."
Madge turned her sweet, honest face full on the boy. "I don't know why I
think so, David, but I do. I trust you, and I _know_ you are honest. Do
you dare to look me squarely in the face and say: 'Madge Morton, you are
mistaken. I _did_ steal Miss Betsey's money and Mr. Preston's silver'?
If you will say this, I promise never to betray you and I will never
trouble you with questions again. But if you don't, David Brewster, I am
going to work until I come to the bottom of this mystery."
David Brewster covered his face with his hands. "I can't say it, Madge,"
he faltered; "it is too much to ask of me."
The little captain's face broke into happy smiles. "Never mind, David,"
she comforted him, "I believe I understand."