old, gray, shingled farmhouse. The farm meant water, fresh eggs, milk
and butter.

Madge looked inquiringly at their chaperon, who nodded with an
expression of entire satisfaction. Next, Madge glanced about the
semi-circle of eager faces. "Shall we cast our anchor in Pleasure
Bay?" she asked, and thus the pleasant little inland sea was named.

Madge signaled to the motor boat ahead, and the engineer stopped. He
had several passengers on board his motor boat, but the men had been
inside the saloon most of the time, and no one on board the houseboat
had noticed them.

Before the houseboat anchored Madge and Phil ran up the hill to ask at
the farmhouse for the privilege of making a landing. They had learned
a lesson they were not likely to forget.

Too tired to begin work, the girls ate their supper out of the luncheon
baskets, then sat about on deck, singing and talking until the stars
came out and twinkled down on their little houseboat with a million
friendly eyes; then, urged by their chaperon and their own heavy eyes,
they crept into their berths.

It was still night when Madge awakened with a start. She thought she
heard some one talking. "To whit! to whoo!" It was only the call of a
friendly owl. Yet the night seemed curiously lonely. It was strange
to be asleep on the water instead of on the land! There was another
weird sound, then something stirred outside on the deck of the boat.
From her cabin window Madge could see the line of the shore. It was
quiet and empty.