A CALL FOR HELP
"Madge, you must go over to Fisherman's Island with me," urged Phil a
few days later. "I feel dreadfully about Mollie. I promised the poor
girl that we would come to see her soon. Now, a long time has passed;
we have never been there. Eleanor and Lillian are anxious to go along
with me. Mollie is perfectly lovely, and I am heartily sorry for her.
Do come with us, there's a dear. Don't pretend you are tired, or make
Miss Jones think you are sick. You are just as well now as any of the
rest of us. If you don't come, it is just because you want to stay
here to read that silly novel. Real people are much more interesting
than stories."
Madge yawned and stretched herself lazily in the steamer chair. "Phil,
it is awfully hot on the water. Couldn't we go to see your girl some
other time? If she has waited this long, she may as well wait a little
longer. You see, I promised Mrs. Curtis I wouldn't go out in the sun."
"Madge Morton, you are putting on airs. Going out in the sun, indeed!"
Phil sniffed disdainfully. "When did the sun ever hurt you? You just
love to have people spoil you. You know there is nothing in the world
the matter with you now. But please don't come, if you do not wish to.
Nellie and Lillian and I are going now."
Phyllis walked quietly away, with her head in the air. Madge was
really too provoking.
Madge closed her book with a bang and rushed after her friend. "Of
course I wish to go with you, Phil. I am interested in your pretty
girl. I had reached the most exciting part of my story when you asked
me, and---- Now, you will hurt my feelings dreadfully if you don't let
me go along with you! Just think, Phyllis Alden. You said I was
spoiled, and that I liked to pretend I was sick, and I didn't get one
bit angry. Don't you truly think my temper is improving?"
Phyllis laughed. "Oh, come on, if you like. Do you think Miss Jenny
Ann would mind my taking the poor girl a basket of nice things? I mean
things that any girl would like. My friend isn't in the least like a
beggar."
"Of course, Miss Jones will let you do anything you like, Phil,"
replied Madge. "I am the only person she does not approve of." Madge
felt angry because her chaperon had intimated that Madge was hurting
Eleanor's feelings by talking so much of her Mrs. Curtis and the
beautiful time she had spent with her. And Madge, though she needed
criticism even more than most other girls, was just as little pleased
at receiving it.
The girls rowed over to the island in a short time. It was a lovely
day, and not too warm on the water.
"I wonder, Phil, if there is a chance of our coming across the thief
who attacked you on the houseboat? He may he in hiding on this
island," said Madge as the four girls pulled their skiff up on the
beach. "From your description I feel almost certain that he is the
same boy who went off with our sailboat. I'd like to come across him
again."
"Well, I wouldn't," declared Lillian. "I am not so bloodthirsty as you
girls are."
The girls met no one along the beach, except a few children. Phil led
them straight to the tent, where she had talked with the afflicted
girl. "Of course, there isn't much of a chance that we shall find
Mollie in the tent," explained Phil, "but I thought I would look here
first."
"Do you know the girl's name, Phil?" queried Eleanor.
Phyllis shook her head. "Not her real name. I only call her Mollie
because her dreadful old father called her 'Moll,' and 'Moll' is an
ugly name."
The tent was more forlorn and dilapidated than ever. It was empty.
There was not a sign of life anywhere about, except for a few faded
wild flowers cast carelessly in the corner of the tent.
Madge picked them up. "These flowers make me think of poor 'Ophelia'
in the play of 'Hamlet.' Ophelia went mad, you know, and wandered
about with wild flowers in her hair."
"Mollie isn't the least bit crazy, Madge. You will understand that as
soon as you see her," protested Phil. "It is only that she is like a
child, and does not remember things. Would you girls mind going around
to the other side of the island? Mollie said their shanty boat was
over there. I do so want to find her."
Lillian hesitated. "I don't think we ought to go among those rough
fishermen again," she protested. "We are sure to see some rude sailors
over there who might speak to us."
"Oh, don't worry, Lillian," reassured Madge. "I am sure no one would
dare say anything to us."
Madge was now deeply interested in the discovery of Phil's friend and
longing for any kind of adventure. She had fully made up her mind to
see Mollie if it were possible.
It was more than a mile walk around the island. But the girls came, at
last, to a spot where they again beheld a dirty canal boat made fast to
a tree on the sandy shore. A huge woman, with a coarse, dreadful face,
sat out on deck holding a baby in her lap. Several small children
played near her. But there was no sign of Mollie. Captain Mike was
gone, and with him his sailboat.
Phil went as near the edge of the shore as she could. The woman gazed
at the four chums with sullen curiosity. She presumed that they had
come to ask her husband to take them out sailing. But Phil spoke up
boldly: "May we see your daughter?" she inquired politely. "I met her
the other day on the island and told her we would come to see her."
The woman's expression changed at once to an ugly scowl. Phil and
Madge wondered why their request should make her so angry. What harm
could come from their calling on the poor, half-crazed girl? Surely it
was plain that they meant her no wrong.
"We want to be friends with your daughter," Madge declared haughtily;
"we do not wish to injure her."
"Moll ain't here no more," the woman replied sulkily. "Her father has
took her away. She ain't never coming back." The woman grinned as the
four girls went away.
"O Madge!" Phil exclaimed, with her eyes full of tears, "I do feel so
sorry. I am afraid we have come too late. Poor Mollie will think I
have broken my promise. What could have happened to her? Do you think
her horrible old father has put her in an asylum? She told me that he
often threatened her, unless she did whatever he said."
"Don't worry, Phil dear," Madge replied sympathetically. "Perhaps the
woman was telling us a story and simply did not wish us to see her
daughter. I will come to the island with you again. Maybe we can find
her next time."
The girls hurried on until they were almost at the place where they had
left their rowboat. Phil was unusually sorrowful and silent. She
still carried her little basket with the gifts for her new friend. The
memory of a pair of wonderful blue eyes haunted her. Mollie's face had
looked so longingly into hers; it was filled with a wistful sorrow and
was haunted by fear and loneliness. It was not that of one who is mad.
"Girls," spoke Phil quickly, "will you go on down to the boat and wait
for me? I am going to run over to the tent and take another look in
there. At any rate, I am going to leave this basket of food. I won't
be gone but a minute."
Phyllis walked rapidly toward the tent. She half hoped she would find
the vanished girl inside it. But the tent was still empty. Phil set
down her basket. She was strangely disappointed and grieved. She
could do nothing more. There was nothing to do save go back to her
friends. As she stepped toward the tent opening her foot caught in a
piece of ragged carpet. Like a flash Phyllis remembered. Had she not
told Mollie to slip a note under this carpet if she was ever in trouble
or in danger and desired their help? Phil slid her hand under the rug
and found a torn scrap of yellow wrapping paper. On it was penciled in
the handwriting of a child:
"I am in much trouble. Please, please come to help me. You promised."