Madge Morton's Secret Part 1

Madge Morton's Secret.

by Amy D. V. Chalmers.

CHAPTER I

THE INTERRUPTED STORY

A girl in a green gown was cosily ensconced among the spreading branches of an old apple tree. She was reading, and she never stirred except to turn the pages of her book or to reach out for another red apple after dropping the core of the previous one.

It was a glorious morning in early September, and the old Virginia orchard was sweet with the odor of ripening apples. A press under a tree still dripped with the juices of yesterday's cider-making. The bees and flies buzzed lazily about it. There was no one but the girl in sight.

Some distance to the left was a red brick house, separated from the orchard by a low stone fence and the length of the kitchen garden. It had a big, white colonnaded balcony in front and a smaller veranda in the rear.

The girl in the apple tree read on, unaware that a carriage had driven up to the front of this house and that a woman and a young man were alighting from it. A few moments later a girl came out on the back veranda. She put her hands to her lips and hallooed. She whistled and called. Then she ran up and down the garden, searching everywhere.

"Madge, Madge! where are you?" she cried. "Oh, do answer me in a hurry!

I have something so important to tell you!"

The girl in the apple tree did not stir. She was oblivious to everything except her story. Her cousin, Eleanor, called and called again, then ran to the stables. Pompey, the colored boy, declared that he had not seen Miss Madge all morning. Once Eleanor leaned over the orchard fence. The green of Madge's frock was too near the color of the foliage to show through the trees. Eleanor gave up her search in despair.

"All right, Madge Morton," she murmured, "if you will go off by yourself without telling a soul where you are going, you must take the consequences--though I am so sorry," added Eleanor. "Poor Madge will be so disappointed."

An hour later a book dropped from the apple tree to the ground, bringing a scurry of leaves with it. Madge Morton descended after her book, swinging herself down without a thought of her dignity. "Oh, dear me!" she exclaimed. "Why did I have to drop my book when I had only a few more pages to read? I suppose it is nearly luncheon time now, and I ought to see what has become of Nellie."

Madge strolled lazily along under the fruit trees. Now and then she stopped to look critically at the heavily-laden branches. Mr. William Butler, her uncle, owned a fruit farm, consequently the girl was interested in their autumn and winter crop of apples.

At the gate of the orchard she paused to peep at her book for another stolen moment and came face to face with her cousin. Although it was not yet midday, Eleanor Butler had on a white company frock and her hair had been freshly braided. Madge did not see her cousin at first.

Nellie eyed her sympathetically, but at the same time her face wore an expression of disapproval. "Where have you been, Madge?" she demanded.

"You've gone and done it this time, I can tell you; I have been looking for you for more than an hour."

"Sorry, Coz," returned Madge lightly. "Did Aunt Sue want me? I have been reading in the orchard. But why are you dressed so bravely? We can't be having a party at this early hour of the day."

Nellie looked serious. "We have not had a party," she returned, "but we have had some visitors. We had iced tea and cakes on the front porch, too."

"Lucky me, to have escaped the company, Eleanor. It is much too warm for morning callers, even if it is September," declared Madge indifferently. "I'll wager that they talked gossip and bored you and Auntie dreadfully."

"They did no such thing," replied Eleanor, nettled by her cousin's bantering tone. "If you'll stop talking a minute, I'll tell you who our visitors were. You'd never be able to guess in a thousand years. Our old friends, Mrs. Curtis and Tom, have been to 'Forest House' to see us. They were pa.s.sing through the town on their way to Richmond and stopped over between trains."

"Take me to them, take me to them!" cried Madge, setting off for the house on a run, closing the orchard gate behind her with a force that caused it to shut with a resounding bang.

Nellie followed her tempestuous relative, calling, "You can't see them.

That is just the trouble. Mrs. Curtis and Tom drove away about a quarter of an hour ago. I am so sorry, but I did look for you everywhere; so did Pompey. We called and called you. Mrs. Curtis and Tom were dreadfully disappointed. They were afraid to wait any longer for fear they would miss their train. They left a great deal of love for you. Mrs. Curtis was charmed with 'Forest House.' You may see them soon again. Mrs. Curtis wants us----"

"Oh, I am so sorry I missed them," lamented Madge. "When does Mrs.

Curtis's train go?"

"At one o'clock," answered Eleanor. "Mother wished them to stay to luncheon, but they had hired such a slow old horse at the station that they thought it wisest to leave in time."

"And they have been on the way only a quarter of an hour?" questioned Madge. "I know what I am going to do: I am going to ride Dixie down to the station. I know I can overtake Tom and Mrs. Curtis before their train leaves the station. I may be able to get just a peep at them.

Here, take my book, please, Nellie. Make it all right with Uncle William and Aunt Sue. I am sure to be late for luncheon." Madge was off across the fields, running as though her life depended on it.

Readers of "MADGE MORTON, CAPTAIN OF THE 'MERRY MAID'" already know the story of how four girls, with more enthusiasm than money, found and transformed a dilapidated old ca.n.a.l boat into the pretty floating summer home which they christened the "Merry Maid" and launched on a quiet sh.o.r.e of Chesapeake Bay.

Their subsequent meeting with a Mrs. Curtis and her son, Tom, persons of wealth and social position, who were summering at one of the fashionable hotels along the sh.o.r.e of the bay, prepared the way for a series of eventful happenings in which the crew of the "Merry Maid"

amply proved their mettle.

It was through the efforts of Madge Morton and Phyllis Alden that a young woman was rescued from the clutches of a family of rough and uncouth fisher folk, and taken aboard the "Merry Maid," where it developed that she was none other than the daughter of Mrs. Curtis who had been lost at sea twelve years previously.

After a succession of happy weeks on the houseboat, the girls repaired to their various homes to spend the remainder of their vacations with their families. They had promised Mrs. Curtis, however, that for two weeks before returning to school they would be her guests on their own houseboat, which she had arranged to have removed from Pleasure Bay, where it still lay, to a spot opposite Old Point Comfort, where she and her son and daughter were spending a few weeks before returning to New York City.

Madge knew without being told that the time for their happy holiday had come. Still, it was not of this she was thinking as she raced across the fields. She had missed Mrs. Curtis more than she could say, and her sole desire was to see the woman who had done so much to add to their pleasure on their previous trip.

In a nearby meadow Dixie, Madge's fat black pony, was lazily eating gra.s.s. Her mistress called to her coaxingly as she ran toward the enclosure. But the pony was bent on a frolic. She heard Madge, saw her approaching, and, eager for a game, the pony kicked her heels together and trotted off across the field at a lively pace.

Madge was in despair. Every moment was precious. Why should Dixie choose this time of all others to refuse to come when she called to her? With a sudden thought Madge reached into her pocket. There, to her joy, she discovered an uneaten red apple. Madge held it out invitingly, standing perfectly still, as though she had no intention of stirring.

The pony threw back her head, neighed softly, then came trotting over to her mistress and appropriated the apple; but the next instant Madge's hand was in her mane, and she vaulted lightly on Dixie's slippery back, still keeping a tight hold.

"Nellie," she called, as she cantered past her cousin, "tell Aunt Sue she must forgive my riding bareback this time. I never will again. But I simply couldn't wait to put a saddle on Dixie. I might miss seeing Mrs. Curtis and Tom. No; they won't be shocked. They'll know it is only Madge!"

She rode swiftly away, sitting on the pony's uncovered back as easily as though she had been riding in the most comfortable of saddles.

It was three miles down the pike to the railway station nearest to the old Butler homestead. Madge knew that her friends had hired a carriage at the depot, and that her pony was capable of making twice the speed of any horse that they had been able to hire. But the day was warm. It was near Dixie's feeding time, and the animal saw no reason for making unnecessary haste. Madge coaxed and urged her pet to do her best. If she could only overtake her friends in their journey to the station!

But the pony would not hurry. At last Madge stopped under a big maple tree, breaking off a switch. A few mild cuts from an unaccustomed whip made Dixie leap ahead.

The pike followed the railroad track for a mile. At the end of the mile, at a sharp curve, the track crossed the road. There was no watchman stationed at the crossing to give the signal, not even a red flag to tell of danger, only a great sign, printed in huge, black letters: "Look Out for the Locomotive. Stop. Look. Listen."

A hundred times Mr. Butler had warned Eleanor and Madge of this dangerous point in the road. Almost every day they crossed this track, driving back and forth from the village and they had always heeded Mr.

Butler's warning.

To-day, just as reckless Madge neared this point in her journey, she saw a rickety carriage drive over this crossing about a hundred yards ahead of her.

"Wait, Mrs. Curtis! Stop, Tom!" cried Madge joyfully. Her blue eyes were shining, her cheeks were flushed. Madge's old-time heedlessness was upon her. She gave no thought to her promise to her uncle, to the chance of the oncoming trains. Madge-fashion, she saw only the goal ahead of her. "Go it, Dixie, darling!" she entreated, touching her pony sharply with her maple switch.

At the girl's first call Tom Curtis had reined in the old horse he was driving. His mother leaned out of the carriage to look back. "Madge!"

she cried sharply.

At the same instant Madge plunged recklessly toward the railroad crossing. It was too late to rein in her pony. She and Dixie dared not take that risk. She saw a huge monster bearing down upon her. A shriek from the engine, a hoa.r.s.e call from the engineer as he swept around the curve and saw the pretty figure on the track so close to his train.

Madge felt the wave of heat from the locomotive. It seemed almost to scorch her, it was so near. She felt her fingers stiffen with fear; her hold on her pony's mane relaxed. She knew she was slipping off her horse's back and down on the track.

But she was country born and bred. She had ridden horseback all her life. In that moment of terror she flung herself forward, with both arms about her pony's neck. Dixie gave a single, frightened leap. She cleared the track just as the train raced by. Then Madge slid limply to the ground, while her pony stood by her shivering with fear.

"Don't scold me, and don't tell Uncle," she pleaded as Mrs. Curtis and Tom climbed hurriedly from the wagon and came back to her. "I know it was dreadful of me, and Uncle would never have forgiven me if I had killed myself."

At this characteristic speech both Madge and her friends laughed. Madge kissed Mrs. Curtis affectionately. Then, holding out her hand to Tom, she said, "Do you think I could let you get away without seeing you for a minute at least? Perhaps you had better go on to the station. I will follow you on Dixie. We can talk after we reach there."

The carriage, closely followed by Madge on her pony, reached the little station at least ten minutes before the time for the Curtis's train.