Madge Morton's Trust Part 17

"What on earth have you there, Miss Betsey?" asked Phil. "I should be afraid to touch such a dreadful looking handkerchief."

Miss Betsey fingered it gingerly. She seemed to be trying to open it.

Madge picked up a pair of curling tongs and caught the handkerchief by one end. "Do let me throw it out of the window for you, Miss Betsey!"

she urged.

Miss Betsey gave a little shriek of protest. But Madge and Phil were staring in Miss Betsey's lap, their eyes wide with amazement. Into the old lady's lap had fallen, from the dirty cotton handkerchief, all her stolen jewelry.

"Where did it come from, Miss Betsey?" demanded Phil.

"From under my pillow," answered Miss Betsey.

"Then the thief must have put it back!" exclaimed Madge impetuously.

Miss Betsey nodded emphatically. "Yes, of course he did. But who and why and how? My money has not been returned. Why should the burglar take pity on me and return me my poor little jewelry? It is of some value.

And now Mr. Preston will have a much easier time in tracing the thief, with this handkerchief as a clue to go on. I can't help suspecting one of the servants, for, girls," Miss Betsey lowered her voice solemnly, "I was in my own room all the morning. I made my bed, as it has been my custom to do every day of my life, and when I made my bed there was certainly no red cotton pocket handkerchief with my jewelry in it under my pillow. I have been out this afternoon, but you children have been up on this floor with Eleanor. Now think. Did you hear anything or see any one enter my room at any time?"

Madge and Phyllis stood still, thinking deeply. Suddenly Madge's cheeks flamed. "David!" exclaimed Phil Alden involuntarily at the same moment.

"David?" Miss Betsey's face was a study. She turned almost as red as Madge. "You don't mean that you girls saw David Brewster enter my room this afternoon? No, no, children, it couldn't be! The boy has a bad disposition, I know. He is surly and cross. But then the lad has had no training of any kind. He has had everything against him. He seemed to be quite honest when he lived with me. But, but----" Miss Betsey hesitated.

"Of course, David will tell me why he came into my room this afternoon.

He probably went there on an errand."

Phyllis Alden shook her head regretfully. She said nothing.

"You don't suspect David, do you, Phil?" questioned Madge.

"I don't know what to think," remarked Phil judicially. "Of course, I don't really suspect David. No one has the right to suspect him without any real proof. But it does seem queer to me that Miss Betsey lost her money first on the houseboat and then here. What is your honest opinion?"

To save her life, Madge could not but think of David's mysterious trip to the Preston house while the barn was burning on the night of the robbery. Still, she did not answer Phyllis.

"Tell us what you think, Madge," insisted Miss Betsey. "Why, I was beginning to feel proud of the boy, his manners have improved so much since he came on this trip. And I have been saying to myself that if I had believed in the boy and tried to help him, as you have done, perhaps he might have been less surly years ago. Some day I may tell you children more of the lad's history."

"Miss Betsey," Madge's voice was very grave, "to tell you the truth, I don't know what to think. I know that there are some things that point toward David's being a thief. But, just the same, I don't believe he is one. You know I have always been sorry for David, Miss Betsey, ever since he pulled me out from under Dr. Alden's buggy, when I was trying to spoil your lawn, as the donkeys did Miss Betsey Trotter's in 'David Copperfield.' And somehow"--she paused reflectively--"I believe in him still. I _know_ that David Brewster wouldn't steal! It may be my intuition that makes me say this; I have no real reason for thinking it.

I trust David, trust him fully. I am sure that he is absolutely honest."

Miss Betsey patted Madge's auburn head almost affectionately. She felt nearly fond of her for her loyalty toward David. "We won't, any of us, speak of suspecting any one, children," she concluded. "You are not to mention having seen David Brewster come out of my room. I would not have suspicion rest on the boy wrongfully for a great deal; it might ruin his whole future life. But we must be very careful; say nothing and watch!

There are sure to be other developments that will point toward the real thief. If we do see or hear anything else that seems suspicious, then we owe it to Mr. and Mrs. Preston to take them into our confidence. We must remember that their property was stolen as well as mine, and that they have taken us into their household and treated us as members of their own family. Much as I may wish it," Miss Betsey lowered her voice solemnly, "I feel that we have no right to shield David if he is at fault. But"--Miss Taylor's voice was even more serious--"it would be a far more wicked thing for us to accuse the boy if he is guiltless."

Miss Betsey rose to go. In spite of her funny, old maid appearance and her usually severe manner toward Madge, that young woman flung her arms around the spinster's neck and hugged her warmly. "You are perfectly splendid, Miss Betsey," she whispered. As Miss Betsey tip-toed cautiously out of the room, Madge blew a kiss toward her retreating back. "You can just lecture me, after this, as much as you like. And I promise, I promise"--Madge hesitated--"I promise not to like it a bit better than I do now," she ended truthfully.

Then Madge turned to Phil, her rock of refuge. "Phyllis Alden, if David Brewster stole from Miss Betsey or Mrs. Preston, I don't care what excuse he has, I shall never forgive him, or myself for bringing him on this boat trip. Oh, dear me! I wish dear old Tom were here! I would ask Tom to ask David to clear things up. I suppose if I try to talk to David Brewster, he will bite my head off."

"Come to bed this minute, Madge, and don't talk to anybody about anything until you know more," commanded Phil stolidly. And Madge obeyed.

CHAPTER XVIII

DAVID'S MYSTERIOUS ERRAND

Poor David Brewster was facing a more difficult problem than he ever had had to conquer in his life. He must manage to get over to the old coal mine, bring back the Preston silver and as much of Miss Betsey's money as he could force the thief to leave behind him, without being noticed or suspected of any unusual design. The jewels that David had already returned to Miss Betsey had been in charge of the old gypsy woman; David had found them on his first visit to her. But to carry back a quant.i.ty of old family silver, some of it in fairly large pieces, was not so simple a task. Yet David had one thing in his favor: Harry Sears and Jack Bolling had both left the Preston farm. After Harry's encounter with David, and the latter's frank account of his own part in the fight, Harry had not cared to linger at the farm. He knew that some day Madge and Phyllis Alden would find out why David had been tempted to fight.

Harry Sears had no desire to recount his own unsuccessful attempt to act the part of "Paul Pry," so Harry and Jack had gone on to join Tom Curtis and George Robinson, and the four boys were to come on to the houseboat party in a few days.

David Brewster knew that whatever he had to do must be done quickly. So he borrowed a horse and cart from Mr. Preston a day or so after Miss Betsey's midnight talk with Madge and Phyllis. He did not explain what he wished with the horse. However, his host asked no questions, for Mr.

Preston had entire faith in the boy.

Madge happened to be in the yard as David drove out from the stable. She waved her hand to David in a friendly fashion, feeling secretly ashamed of having even discussed the question of his possible guilt.

David was too worried and unhappy to respond to Madge's greeting pleasantly, but he acknowledged her salutation with a curt nod of his head. He had lately been more silent and reserved than ever in his manner, because, in his heart, he longed so deeply to know some one in whom he could confide. Yet he was afraid to trust even Madge.

"Going driving all alone, David?" questioned Madge.

"Yes," answered David harshly. Yet he was thinking at the same moment that if he only could confide in her, Madge was just the kind of a girl to help a fellow out of a sc.r.a.pe and to stand shoulder to shoulder with him if he got into a difficulty.

Madge hesitated. She wanted so much to be friendly with David. She thought that perhaps if he talked with her alone, he might explain a number of things about himself that she wanted to understand, not from curiosity but in a real spirit of friendliness. Yet she could not make up her mind to make this request of David. If he had been like Tom, or any one of the other motor launch boys, she would not have hesitated for an instant.

"Stop a minute, please, David," she said, looking earnestly at the boy, "I have a favor to ask of you." She knew that David had some mysterious occupation that took him away from the farm every afternoon, and that he would brook no interference. "If you are going to drive alone and I won't be in the way, won't you take me with you?"

David Brewster colored to the roots of his dark hair. Never in his whole life had a nice girl approached him in the friendly way that Madge had just done. Yet he knew he must refuse her request, though David would have dearly loved to have Madge drive with him. He simply must return the stolen goods to Mr. Preston's house to-day, or else run the risk of never restoring them to their rightful owners. He would not dare to ask Mr. Preston to lend him a horse again soon, and Tom might return any day with his launch.

Madge realized before David answered her that he meant to refuse to take her with him. She felt furiously angry, more with herself than with the boy.

"I am sorry," muttered David, when he at last found his voice. "I've got to attend to some business this afternoon and I've got to attend to it alone, or I would like very much to have you come along with me."

"Oh, never mind, then," answered Madge coldly, turning away from David, who took a step toward her retreating figure, then, with a muttered exclamation, sprang into the cart and drove off.

As for Madge, she decided never to speak to David again; he was insufferable.

About five o'clock on the same afternoon Madge, Phyllis, Lillian and Miss Betsey were out on the lawn eating watermelon. Eleanor stood at her front window gazing down wistfully at her friends. Miss Jenny Ann was reading to amuse her, but it was really more fun to look down at the girls. Nellie was getting dreadfully tired of being confined to one room, and yet she did not feel well enough to go downstairs.

David Brewster drove back into the yard. Inside his cart Madge noticed a square, wooden box, which she had not seen when David left the farm.

Without saying a word to any one, the boy lifted the box and carried it into the house. A little later he came out on the lawn to where Miss Betsey and the girls were sitting and approached Madge rather diffidently.

"Miss Morton," David's voice was unusually gentle, "don't you think I might carry your cousin, Miss Butler, downstairs? I saw her at the window as I drove into the yard. She looks lonely. Perhaps she would like to be down here."

Madge blew a kiss up to Eleanor. She, too, had caught her cousin's wistful expression. The little captain's heart melted toward David. "I don't know," she answered doubtfully. "I'll go upstairs and ask Miss Jenny Ann what she thinks."

"I'd be awfully careful," urged David. "I know I could carry Miss Butler without hurting her shoulder. We could bring a steamer chair out here on the lawn for her when I get her down."

Madge hurried away. A few seconds later David saw her at the open window waving her hand and nodding her head energetically. "Yes; do come up,"

she called. "Eleanor is _so_ anxious to have you carry her down into the yard, and Miss Jenny Ann is willing that you should try."

The girls busied themselves with arranging Nellie's chair in the shadiest spot on the lawn, under a great horse-chestnut tree, and piling the chair with sofa cushions and a pale pink shawl, and in cutting the "heart" out of the choicest watermelon to bestow on the invalid and her cavalier.

David bore Nellie as comfortably as though she were a baby. She had her well arm about his neck and the other, the bandaged one, rested comfortably in her lap. David's face had completely lost its sullen look. He was actually smiling at Eleanor as she apologized for being "so heavy."