"What--why--is it for me?" stammered Madge, sitting up suddenly, her eyes fastened on the box.
"It is for no one else," was the smiling answer. "Shall I open it for you?"
Mrs. Curtis touched a tiny spring in the white box. It flew open!
There before Madge's wondering gaze, coiled on its dainty silk bed, lay a string of creamy pearls. They were not large, but each pearl was perfect, an exquisite bit of jewelry. Mrs. Curtis took the necklace from its case. She leaned over and clasped it about Madge's slender throat, saying: "Tom and I talked a long time about what we wished to give you as a slight remembrance of our appreciation of what you did for us. At last we decided upon this as being particularly suitable to you. Then, too, we wished to give you something that came up out of the sea."
"It is the loveliest necklace in the world," declared Madge happily, touching the pearls. "It is far too beautiful for me. I shall love it all my life and never, never part with it. You have been too good to me, Mrs. Curtis," she added earnestly.
"But think what you did for me," reminded the stately, white-haired woman.
"That isn't worth remembering. I did only what any one else would have done if placed in the same circumstances."
"But you saved my son's life, and that is the greatest service you could possibly render me."
Yet before her vacation was over Madge Morton was to perform for her friend a further service equally great.
Lillian and Eleanor were in the houseboat kitchen, making chocolate fudge and a caramel cake.
"I think it will be too funny for anything," laughed Eleanor. "Let's keep your surprise a secret from the others. It will be a delightful way to celebrate Madge's return. Do you know that we have a hundred and one things to do today?" she added, stirring her cake batter as fast as she could. "This boat must be cleaned from stem to stern. I told the boy from the farm to be here at nine o'clock this morning to scrub the deck. He hasn't put in his appearance yet. I wonder which one of us can be spared to go and hurry him along?"
"Let's ask Miss Jenny Ann," suggested Lillian slyly. "She has done her share of the work already, and Mr. Brown is sketching the old garden near the farmhouse. Haven't you noticed that our chaperon has been very much interested in art lately? Mr. Brown wishes to paint a picture of our houseboat. He has a fancy for this neighborhood. He thinks it is so picturesque. 'Straws show which way the wind blows,' you know. Watch the candy for me. I'll go ask Miss Jenny Ann if she will go out and round up our faithless boy."