Madge's sole fortune was just ten dollars a month, which she used for
her dress allowance. Her uncle and aunt were not rich, but they were
paying for her education, and Madge knew she was expected to make her
own living as soon as she was old enough. Mr. and Mrs. Butler had
hoped she would become a teacher, for they held the old-fashioned
southern belief that teaching school was the only avenue open to the
woman who was forced by necessity to make her own living.

Madge, however, had decided, a long time before, that she would much
rather die than teach. She would do anything but that. Just at
present her poverty was very inconvenient. Madge was generous to a
fault, and she would have liked nothing better than to finance royally
their proposed trip. She vowed mentally to rise to the occasion, even
though the way to do it was not yet clear.

Prudent Eleanor had also asked her whom she meant to invite to act as
their chaperon. So it was of this chaperon that Madge was thinking
while she was in the act of mailing her letters.

Down in Virginia, on a big place next to her uncle's, was a girl whom
she had decided would make an ideal chaperon. She was as fond of larks
as was Madge herself. She could fish, ride, swim and shoot a rifle
when necessary. Moreover, she was so beautiful and aristocratic that
Madge always called her the "Lady of Quality." It was true she could
not cook nor wash dishes, nor do anything practical, and she was only
twenty-two. Still, Madge thought she would be a perfectly delightful
chaperon and was sure the girls would love her. Madge's red lips
unconsciously formed the letter O, and before she knew what she was
doing she was whistling from sheer pleasure.