I. THE INTERRUPTION 221

XXII. MADGE MORTON'S TRUST 232

XXIII. THE LITTLE CAPTAIN'S STORY 241

XXIV. "GOOD LUCK TO THE BRIDE" 248

Madge Morton's Trust

CHAPTER I

A LATE ARRIVAL

It was a particularly hot day in early July. A girl came out on the back
porch of an old-fashioned New England house and dropped into a hammock.
She looked tired, but her big black eyes were eager with interest.

She held a fat letter in her hand which contained many pages. At the top
of the letter was a pen-and-ink drawing of a miniature houseboat with
five girls running about on the deck, their hair blowing, their skirts
awry. One of them held a broom in her hand; she was the domestic
Eleanor! Another waved a frying pan; Miss Jenny Ann Jones, Chief Cook
and Chaperon! The third girl was drying her long, blonde hair in the
sun; Miss Lillian Seldon, the beauty of the houseboat party!

The girl in the hammock recognized herself: she was feeding a
weird-looking animal on four legs with a spoon. And standing among the
others, apparently talking as fast as she possibly could, and doing no
work of any kind, was a young woman whom the artist had carefully
labeled "Madge."

Phyllis Alden laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. She could
not recall having laughed in two months, and she was sure she would keep
on giggling as long as she read her letter.

"Miss Alden"--a woman in the uniform of a professional nurse appeared at
the door--"your mother says do you know where the twins are? She is
restless about them. I promised her I would come to you. I am sorry to
disturb you; I know you are tired."

"Not a bit of it, Miss Brazier," insisted Phil stoutly. "Those dreadful
babies! I had forgotten I had not seen them in the last half hour. Of
course, they are in mischief. I will look for them right away."

Phil thrust her precious letter into her blouse. It was four o'clock in
the afternoon and her letter from her chum had arrived in the morning
post. These were busy days for Phyllis Alden. Early in May she had been
called home from school by the illness of her mother. Since that time
the care of her father's house and looking after the irrepressible twins
had been Phyllis's work. Her mother was better now, on the sure road to
convalescence, and Phil had begun to confess to herself that she was
tired.