CHAPTER XV
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."