Madge could see Mrs. Curtis, Miss Jenny Ann, her chums and her father, as well as their other friends, hurrying down toward the end of the dock. She gave one swift glance at them, then she looked ruefully at her own dripping garments. Tom and David long remembered her as they saw her at that moment. Her white dress clung to her slender form; the water was dripping from her clothing, her cheeks were a brilliant crimson from embarrassment at her plight; her red-brown hair glinted in the bright sunlight, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief and dismay. Before any one had a chance to scold or to reproach her, she had dashed across the wharf, run aboard the yacht and had shut herself up in her stateroom.
A few minutes later, dressed in a fresh white serge frock, she emerged to say good-bye. The houseboat girls had made up their minds that not one tear would any one of them shed when the moment of parting came. Lillian and Phil stood on either side of Eleanor, for neither of them had much faith that Nellie could keep her word when it came to the test.
Madge went first to Mr. and Mrs. John Randolph. “Miss Betsey” took both her hands and held them gravely. “Madge, dear, remember I have always told you that wherever you were exciting things were sure to happen. You have convinced me of it again to-day. Now, you are going around the world and I hope you will see and know only the best there is in it. Good-bye.” Miss Betsey leaned on her distinguished old husband’s arm for support and surreptitiously wiped her eyes.
“Jenny Ann Jones, you promised I wouldn’t have to say good-bye to you,” protested Madge chokingly. Miss Jenny Ann nodded, while Mr. Theodore Brown gazed at her comfortingly. Madge rallied her courage and smiled at both of them. “Do you remember, Jenny Ann,” she questioned, “how on the very first of our houseboat trips you said that you would marry some day, just to be able to get rid of the name of ‘Jones’? I am sure you will like ‘Brown’ a whole lot better.” Madge turned saucily away to hide the trembling of her lips.
Mrs. Curtis said nothing. She just kissed Madge’s forehead, both rosy cheeks and once on her red lips. But when the little captain left her, and Mrs. Curtis turned to find her son standing near her, his face white and his lips set, his mother faltered brokenly: “I am trying hard not to be selfish, Tom, and I am glad, with all my heart, that Madge found her father, but no one will ever know how sorry I am not to have her for my daughter.”
“Maybe you will some day, after all, Mother,” returned Tom steadily. “We are young, I know, and neither of us has seen much of the world. Still, I am fairly sure I know my own mind. Perhaps Madge will care as much as I do now when the right time comes.”
At the last, Madge could not say farewell to her three chums. Her eyes were so full of tears that Captain Jules had to lead her aboard the yacht. She stood on the deck, kissing both hands to them as long as she could see them, until their little boat had been towed far out into the great New York harbor.
Madge’s father stood by her, watching the sunlight dance upon the water.
“My little girl,” Captain Morton began, with a view of distracting her attention from the sorrow of parting, “I have always forgotten to tell you that I saw you graduate at Miss Tolliver’s. Jules was not with me that day. He knew of you but never saw you until you went to Cape May. I wonder I didn’t betray myself to you then, dear. It was I who first called out to you when I saw that arch tottering over your head.”
Madge nodded. “I know it now,” she replied. “I must have caught a brief glimpse of your face. You and Captain Jules sent me the wonderful pearl. We never could guess from whom it had come.”