er his hiding place.

Madge bathed her tired eyes and face. She was glad to have the use of
her hands. She even managed to smile gratefully when the woman offered
her a piece of cornbread and an ear of roasted corn.

She resolved to summon all of her courage and endurance to her aid. She
would not plead or argue again. She would wait patiently until the long
day had passed. Perhaps Tom or David or one of the other boys would see
her skiff on the beach and come to her aid.

The morning went by. No one spoke or moved. Only once the man crawled
out from under the brush for food and water. Then he stole back again.

Madge grew more tired with every hour. It was hard to have to sit still
so long in one place, so she lay down on the grass. She did not go to
sleep, but was drowsy from the heat and fatigue.

The old woman came over to where she lay and stood looking at her sadly.
Her pretty white face, with its crown of sun-kissed hair, gleaming with
red and gold lights, her brilliantly red lips, brought back to this
ugly, time-worn crone the memory of her own youth. Madge always caused
other women to think of their own youth, she was so radiant, so full of
faith and enthusiasm. It was partly because of this that Miss Betsey
Taylor disliked her. Her own springtime had been prim and narrow. She
had wasted the years that Madge was living so abundantly, and
unconsciously Miss Betsey envied Madge.

The little captain saw the old gypsy's little, beady eyes fixed on her.
She tried to sit up, but found herself too tired to do so. The woman
dropped down near her and lifted her up. She had a pack of dirty cards
in her hand. "Want your fortune told, honey?" she asked. "Then cross my
palm with gold." The crone looked narrowly at the single gold seal ring
that Madge wore. It had been a gift to her from her three houseboat
chums.

Madge shook her head. "No, thank you," she answered politely, then
listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. She looked up toward
the crest of the hill. "'From whence cometh my strength'," she thought
to herself. But she could not see or hear any one. The little spot where
she was held a prisoner was surrounded with heavy shrubbery and walled
in with ancient trees that had grown on the Virginia hillside for
centuries.

The woman ran the cards through her withered hands. "Better let me tell
your fortune; never mind the gold." She shook her head and muttered so
mysteriously that Madge's cheeks flushe