Tania huddled close to Madge, her
black head resting against the older girl's curls, as she listened to the
harrowing adventures that befell the Tin Soldier.

The sun was sinking. Away over the water the world seemed rose colored,
but the shadows were deepening on the land. Phil espied Lillian and
Eleanor coming toward the houseboat. Lillian waved a handful of white
envelopes, but Eleanor walked more slowly and did not glance up toward
her friends.

Miss Jenny Ann rose hurriedly. "I must go in to see to our dinner," she
announced. "Phil, after you have spoken to the girls, will you come in to
help me? Madge may stay to look after Tania."

The little captain was absorbed in a quiet twilight dream, and as Tania
was in her lap she did not get up when Phil went forward to meet Lillian
and Eleanor.

Instantly Phil realized that something was the matter with Nellie.
Eleanor's face was white and drawn and there were tears in her gentle,
brown eyes. Lillian also looked worried and sympathetic, but was
evidently trying to appear cheerful.

"What is the matter, Eleanor? Has any one hurt your feelings?" asked Phil
immediately. Eleanor was the youngest of the girls and always the one to
be protected. Phyllis guessed that perhaps some one of the unpleasant
acquaintances of Roy Dennis and Mabel Farrar might have been unkind to
her.

But Eleanor shook her head dumbly.

"Nellie has had some bad news from home," answered Lillian, tenderly
putting her arm about Eleanor. "Perhaps it isn't so bad as she thinks."

Madge overheard Lillian's speech and, lifting Tania from her lap, sprang
to her feet.

"Nellie, darling, what is it? Tell me at once!" she demanded. "If Uncle
and Aunt are ill, we must go to them at once."

"It isn't so bad as that, Madge," answered Eleanor, finding her voice;
"only Mother has written to tell us that Father has lost a great deal of
money. He has had to mortgage dear old 'Forest House,' and if he doesn't
get a lot more money by fall, 'Forest House' will have to be sold."

Nellie broke down. The thought of having to give up her dear old Virginia
home, that had been in their family for five generations, was more than
she could bear.

Madge kissed Eleanor gently. In the face of great difficulties Madge was
not the harum-scarum person she seemed. "Don't worry too much, Nellie,"
she urged. "If Uncle and Aunt are well, then the loss of the money isn't
so dreadful. Somehow, I don't believe we shall have to