beloved "Ship of Dreams."

"Oh, you can see her from here!" exclaimed Madge, her eyes dancing with
the pride of possession. "See, Mr. Curtis, it is our very own 'Ship of
Dreams' until we give her a real name."

"She's a beauty," said Tom Curtis warmly, "and I really must have a
closer look at her."

"Then come to see us soon," invited Phil audaciously.

"I will, you may be certain of it. Good-bye. I hope you won't suffer
any bad effects from your strenuous night." The young man raised his
cap and, whistling to his dog, strode off down the hill.

"What a nice boy," commented Lillian.

Madge, however, was not thinking of Tom Curtis; her mind dwelt upon
their chaperon, and the long, anxious night she had spent alone on the
houseboat.

Poor Miss Jones! Her vigil had indeed been a patient one. From the
time the hands of the little cabin clock had pointed to the hour of six
she had anxiously awaited the girls. She had cooked the dinner, then
set it in the oven to warm. At seven o'clock she trudged up the hill
to the farmhouse to make inquiries. No one had seen the young women
since they passed through the fields early that afternoon. At nine
o'clock a party of farmers scoured the country side, but the extreme
darkness of the night had caused the young men to discontinue their
search until daylight.