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 passing thought.  His first wife was evidently a better woman than this second one.  She worked with my Madeleine, brought her back to life and must have been good to her.  But my baby could never remember her name, nor tell anything about herself.  Captain Mike was on the ocean for two weeks, and too ignorant to study the papers afterward.  The first wife wished to keep the child.  After a short time she died, and then——­” Mrs. Curtis stopped abruptly.

“We won’t ever mention it again,” said Madge tactfully.  “I can only say I am so glad you found her.”

Mrs. Watson, the farmer’s wife, met the houseboat party with a smiling face.  She conducted them into the dining room.  Miss Jenny Ann and the four girls sighed with satisfaction for they were very hungry.  The great mahogany table was weighted down with food—­roast chicken, ham, salad, doughnuts.