ver, they found Mrs. Curtis and Madeleine
apparently waiting for them. "We couldn't bear that yesterday should
be good-bye," explained Mrs. Curtis, putting her arm about Madge and
drawing her away from the others.

Madeleine held out her hands to Phyllis. She still looked white and
fragile from her illness, but she was so exquisitely lovely that people
turned about to gaze at her as she passed by them. Her face wore the
expression of a serious child. She could not immediately make up for
the lost years of her life, and she never left her mother or her
brother but for a short time. Still she was at ease with the girls and
talked a little with them. Her memory had come back to her, whether
from the second blow on her head, or from the quiet life--which, the
medical men could not say. After a while Madeleine would be able to
take the place in the gay world which her beauty and wealth made for
her. For the present she needed rest, quiet, and absolute peace of
mind.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you, Madge?" asked Mrs. Curtis, as
she and the little captain walked side by side to the farmhouse
together.

Madge shook her bead. "It isn't a case of changing my mind. I had not
decided. Now that you have found your real daughter you surely do not
wish to be burdened with an imitation one."

"But I still want you, my dear. A woman is richer with two daughters
than with one," replied Mrs. Curtis.

"No; you and Madeleine ought to be together," concluded Madge wisely.
"You are awfully good, and I shall always feel that you are the best
friend I have. But I had not been able to make up my mind to leave my
own people and the girls, so, of course, everything has turned out for
the best, and I am so happy for you and Tom and Madeleine. It is as
good as playing a part in a fairy story to see one come true before
your very eyes. Have you seen Captain Mike?" Madge lowered her voice,
so that Madeleine could not overhear her.

Mrs. Curtis flushed. "Once, and for always. I hope never to look upon
the dreadful man again. Tom felt that he and I must go to this Mike to
ask him something of my little girl's history. He claims to have
picked her up and, thinking her dead, left her for a few hours
unnoticed in his sailboat. The man had done something reprehensible
while in Florida, and was sailing for the Atlantic Ocean to flee from
justice, so he did not stop to inquire about my child, or to give her
more than a