Madge Morton's Trust

by Amy D. V. Chalmers

"Miss Taylor," broke in Madge suddenly, in her usual, unexpected fashion, "if you don't mind, I think I will take the little girls out into your back garden. I wish to speak to your boy, David. I have asked our friend, Tom Curtis, to take David to help him with his motor boat during our trip. I hope you don't mind?"

Miss Betsey caught her breath. She was startled by the suddenness of Madge's suggestion, as she was to be many times during her acquaintance with that young woman. Then Miss Betsey looked dubious. "Take David with us?" she faltered. "I don't advise it. It was good of you, child, to think of it, and it would be a wonderful opportunity for the boy. But I am obliged to tell you that David is not trustworthy. He spends too many hours alone, and refuses to tell anybody what he is doing. Make him confide in you, or else do not take him away with us. I'll try to find something for the boy to do nearer home."

Madge thought she caught a gleam in Miss Betsey's eyes that revealed a goodly amount of curiosity about David's secret occupations, as much as it did interest in his welfare. She made up her mind that she would not pry into poor David's secrets simply because she had a chance to offer him the opportunity to make his living during the summer.

Holding Dot by one hand and Daisy by the other, Madge appeared at the half-open barn-door, her eyes shining with friendliness.

David was working fiercely. He hated the cleaning of the barn, so he chose to-day to do it as an outlet for his foolish feeling of injury.

"David," exclaimed Madge, "I must call you that, as I don't know your other name, I would like to speak to you." There was no hint of patronage in Madge's manner. She was too well-bred a young woman either to feel or to show it. She really felt no difference between herself and David, except that the boy had never had the opportunities that had been hers.

But David never turned around to answer her. "Speak ahead," he answered roughly. "I'm not deaf. I can hear what you've got to say to me in here all right."

Madge colored angrily. A sound temper had never been her strong point. She had almost forgotten how angry she could be in the two peaceful weeks she had spent with Phil. The hot blood surged to her cheeks at David's rude behavior. The boy had gone on raking the hay into one corner of the barn.

"I certainly shall not speak to you if you can't treat me courteously," she answered coldly. She took the little girls by the hands and walked quietly away from the barn. The babies protested. Their black eyes were wide with interest at the sight of "the big boy." They wished to stay and talk to him.

David put his hand to his throat when Madge was out of sight. He felt as though he were choking, and he knew it was from shame at his own uncivil behavior to the girl who had treated him in such a friendly, gentle fashion. David Brewster was a queer combination. He was enough of a gentleman to know he had treated Madge discourteously, but he did not know how to apologize to her. He glanced around the yard.