rtis," declared Madge, when the three minutes had gone by, "I
can't--I can't decide what you ask me now. Please don't think I do not
love you. It is too wonderful for you and Tom to wish me to come to
live with you. But may I have a few days to think things over before I
give you my answer? The thought of leaving Aunt Sue and Uncle William
and Nellie does--does----" Madge could not go on.

"Never mind, dear," soothed Mrs. Curtis. "It was not fair in me to
take you unawares, and then expect you to make up your mind so soon.
Suppose I give you three days, instead of three minutes, to think
things over. Even then, Madge, we can't be sure that your uncle and
aunt will be willing to let you be my girl instead of theirs."

CHAPTER XXI

MOLLIE'S BRAVE FIGHT

Mollie was sitting alone on the deck of the houseboat. She and Miss
Jenny had just finished an early tea. The girls were still away at
their dinner, and Miss Jenny Ann had gone up to the nearest farmhouse
to get some eggs for breakfast. It was the first time Mollie had ever
been left by herself on the houseboat. But Miss Jenny Ann did not
think there was any possible danger. Neither Captain Mike nor Bill had
made the slightest attempt to get possession of Mollie. Nor did Miss
Jones intend to be out of call for more than fifteen minutes.

Mollie had begun to lose the vague dread that had haunted her all her
life. The peaceful hours of the past ten days seemed more real to her
than the dreary, ugly years of her childhood. She began faintly to
realize what life could mean when one was not afraid.

Mollie's hands, a little roughened from hard work, were folded
peacefully in her lap. Her beautiful head, with its crown of
sun-colored hair, was resting against the cushion of the big steamer
chair. She was on the small upper deck, facing the bow of the boat. A
strolling breeze had blown the hair back from her forehead, and the
ugly scar was visible. But, now that Mollie's head no longer ached
from the hard work she had been forced to endure, the throbbing and the
old pain in this scar had almost gone. The girl was slowly finding
herself. So far she had accepted her new life without a question,
taking what was done for her like a contented child. Now she sat
looking up the bay for the return of her friends. They would not be at
home for several hours, but time meant very little to Mollie, and she
had been lonely since they had gone away.

A skif