Madge Morton's Secret

by Amy D. V. Chalmers

Madge wondered what she ought to tell Phil in regard to the strange rumors. She was afraid Phyllis would be grieved, and be sadly worried. What had the two girls concealed in the mysterious package left in their charge by the vanished officer, who had evidently foreseen that gossip would follow his mysterious departure?

Madge need not have troubled herself on Phil's account. That young woman took the report of Lieutenant Jimmy's disappearance with perfect calmness. "He will be back very soon," she asserted to Madge. "Then he will be able to explain everything to everyone's satisfaction. Lieutenant Lawton is not a traitor. Just you wait and see!" So Phyllis continued to have faith in the young officer. She never reflected on what the box in her trunk contained, but she never left the trunk unlocked for a moment. Nor did she ever fail to wear a small brass key about her person.

On the evening appointed for the performance of "The Decision" all personal differences were apparently forgotten. Madge thought no more of her trouble with Flora Harris. She had tried to be as polite to her as possible and Flora had appeared to accept her apology. Flora Harris had determined that it was the wisest thing that she could do to appear to be friendly with Madge. It would make the revenge which she had planned against Madge the more complete. Then, if she let it be known that Miss Morton had withdrawn the accusation against herself and Alice, no one could possibly believe there had been any truth in it in the beginning. Her act would appear to be inspired only by her own chagrin over defeat in the race.

The day of the play Lillian and Madge were radiant over the prospect of the evening's gayety. Eleanor, Phil and Miss Jenny Ann were equally interested. The four girls sewed and talked the entire morning. They had not had such a good time together since the beginning of their second houseboat holiday. In a few days "The Merry Maid" would be sent up the bay to be looked after for the winter; the four comrades would return to Miss Tolliver's school; Miss Jenny Ann would be turned from chaperon to teacher. The girls were enthusiastic about their winter. Of course, they would study harder and accomplish more than they ever had before, they promised themselves.

The private ballroom in her hotel, which Mrs. Curtis had engaged for the performance of the little drama, was delightfully arranged. A small stage was erected at one end of it, and low-growing flowers and palms banked about it. There was little light in the back of the room, where the audience sat, but the miniature stage was brilliant with the glow of delicately shaded electric lights.

Mrs. Curtis had invited about fifty guests, her friends from the nearby hotels and cottages, and a number of Army and Navy officers with their families. The season was almost at an end. Mrs. Curtis, Madeleine and Tom would leave for New York in ten days. They wished their last entertainment to be a memorable one.

Miss Jenny Ann sat in one of the front row chairs with Eleanor and Phyllis. In their dressing room, Madge was trying to comfort Lillian, who had lost her courage at the eleventh hour. When the time came for her to go on, however, Lillian forgot her stage fright and made her first entrance with the air of a seasoned trouper. The heavy work of the play lay between Flora Harris and Madge, and in the enactment of the little drama that followed it was difficult to realize that neither of the two young women was a professional.

"Flora Harris's part is pretty well suited to her," Tom Curtis had confided to Madge at the dress rehearsal the day before. "I can imagine she would be quite likely to load the blame for her own misdeeds on the other girl's shoulders. She wouldn't experience a change of heart at the end of the stunt the way this girl did, either."

And Madge, being merely human, could not resist flashing him a glance which meant that she quite agreed with him.

It was in the final scene, where the secretary makes her appeal to the father of the girl, that Madge scored her greatest triumph. The rise and fall of her clear voice, that Madeleine always asserted had "tears" in it, coupled with the intense earnestness with which she made her plea, called forth ungrudging applause, and when, after the cast had taken several encores the audience still kept up a steady clamor, she was obliged to appear between the silken curtains and make a little speech. It was indeed Madge Morton's hour of triumph.