Part 4 (1/2)
”My friend is willing to sell this here boat for a hundred dollars,”
said the fisherman, Mike Muldoon, hesitating as he mentioned the sum.
It was all Madge could do to keep from clapping her hands for joy. One hundred dollars for the boat--that left another hundred for painting and remodeling and for other necessary expenses.
Just as Madge was about to close with the man's offer a look from Jack Bolling interrupted her.
”The boat is not worth a hundred dollars,” he declared decisively.
”The young lady will give you fifty dollars for it, and not a cent more.”
The man laughed contemptuously. ”I can't do it,” he said. ”That boat is cheap at a hundred dollars.”
”At fifty, you mean,” retorted Jack stubbornly.
The girls stood back quietly and allowed Jack to drive the bargain, which he did with so much spirit that the coveted boat was at last made over to him at his price, fifty dollars.
For the rest of the day the four girls spent their time interviewing carpenters and painters. At last they found a man who promised to deliver the boat, rebuilt according to Madge's idea, at a little town several miles farther down the bay. The man owned a motor boat. He was to take the houseboat to a landing, where the girls could load it with the necessary supplies, and then to tow them farther down the bay, until they found the ideal place for their summer holiday.
”I declare, Madge, dear, I was never so tired, nor so happy in my life,” declared Eleanor Butler late that afternoon, as the quartette were on their way back to their school at Harborpoint. ”I can see our houseboat, now, as plainly as anything. At first, Lillian and I couldn't quite believe in your idea.”
Madge had heard Eleanor's comments but vaguely. She was doing a sum in mental arithmetic. ”Fifty dollars for the old shanty boat, seventy-five for remodeling it, fifteen to the man for towing.” Here she became confused. But she still knew there was quite a large sum of money left for buying the little furniture they needed and their store of provisions.
Phyllis Alden, too, had been busy calculating. ”I think we can do it, Madge,” she said, leaning over from the back seat to speak to her friend.
”Of course we can. We shall have whole lots of money,” announced Madge triumphantly.
Phil shook her head. ”I am afraid we won't. There is one thing we must buy that will be expensive.”
Lillian straightened up. She had been leaning against the back of the seat, utterly worn out. The three girls gazed at Phil in consternation. What was this new item of expense that threatened to eat up their little capital?
”Don't keep us in suspense, Phil,” laughed Eleanor. ”What have we forgotten to buy?”
”A kitchen stove!” cried Phil dramatically. ”And I know they must be awfully expensive.”
”What a goose you are, Phil,” said Lillian in a practical tone. ”We don't want a kitchen stove. It would take up too much room. We need an oil stove or something like that.”
”Then I appoint you as a special committee to look into the stove question, Lillian,” laughed Madge.
”I accept the appointment,” bowed Lillian, ”and I won't waste our capital on kitchen ranges of elephantine proportions, either.”
During the next five days the four friends found plenty to occupy their time. Then Miss Tolliver's school closed, and Phil Alden hurried home to her family in Hartford, Connecticut; Lillian returned to her home in Philadelphia, while Madge and Eleanor departed to spend a week with Mr.
and Mrs. Butler in their old home in Virginia. Miss Jones, however, remained at the school. She made one hurried trip into Baltimore, and on another occasion had a visitor, but the rest of the time she sewed industriously; for on June the eighth a new experience was to be hers--she was to begin her duties as chaperon to four adventurous girls aboard their longed-for ”s.h.i.+p of Dreams.”
CHAPTER V
ALL ABOARD
Blue waves lapped idly against the sides of a little, white palace that had risen out of the waves of the bay overnight. One side lay close along a quiet sh.o.r.e. Overhead the leaves of a willow tree stirred in the wind, and the birds twittered in its branches. The rosy flush was just fading out of the sky. Dawn had come only a short time before, and the wind, the waves and the birds were the only things stirring so early in the morning. There was not a sound or a movement aboard the odd vessel that was moored to the sh.o.r.e.
Along the sh.o.r.e sped the slender figure of a girl. It was a part of the morning. Her blue frock was the color of the sky and her auburn hair had been touched by the sun, and on her radiant face lay the glory of youth.