AT THE MERCY OF THE WAVES

"Don't you think it would be perfectly lovely to have a mother as rich
and beautiful as Mrs. Curtis?" asked Madge, as she tied a black velvet
ribbon about her auburn curls and turned her head to see the effect.
She and Phil were dressing for Tom Curtis's sailing party, to which he
had invited them the day before and which was to start within the next
hour.

"Almost any mother is pretty nice, even if she isn't rich or
beautiful," answered Phil loyally. She was wearing a yachting suit of
navy blue while Madge was dressed in white serge. Eleanor, Lillian and
Miss Jones, clad in white linen gowns, were ready and waiting on the
houseboat deck for the arrival of the sailing party. True to his word,
Tom Curtis had brought his mother to call on the four girls the
afternoon of the day before.

"I know," answered Madge slowly. "But sometimes, when I was a very
little girl, I liked to think that perhaps I was a princess in
disguise, and that Uncle and Aunt had never told me of it. I used to
look out of the window and wonder if some day a carriage would drive up
to hear me away to my royal home. That doesn't sound very practical,
does it? But, when one has no memory of father or mother, one can't
help dreaming things. Don't you think Mrs. Curtis is simply
beautiful?" Madge abruptly changed the subject. "Her hair is so soft
and white, and she has such a young face, but she looks as though she
were tired of everything. Persons who have that wonderful, world-weary
look are so interesting," finished Madge, with a sigh. "I am afraid I
shall never have that expression, because I never find time to get
tired of things."