Mr. Randolph rose and bowed low to Miss Betsey Taylor, with his right hand over his heart in the manner of half a century ago. "Miss Betsey, will you do me the honor to dance this reel with me?" he asked, almost with a twinkle in his eye.

"My gracious, sakes alive!" exclaimed Miss Betsey nervously. "I haven't danced in half a lifetime. I am sure my bones are much too stiff."

Nevertheless, frivolous Miss Betsey allowed her old admirer to lead her to her place in the line.

"The Camels are coming, Ho, ho, ho, ho!

The Camels are coming from Baltimo',"

piped up Sam's orchestra, and jolly Mr. and Mrs. Preston swept down the long line of the dancers with the energy of boy and girl.

David Brewster watched the scene for a minute from the open doorway. He tried to still the feeling of jealousy that swept over him; but he could not help but have a sore feeling in his heart. The girls, who had been so friendly with him in the last few days, had forgotten his very existence, now that the other boys had returned. Also, not one of the motor boys had stopped to speak to him as they pa.s.sed him in the hall.

Poor David!

Well, it was just as well that he had been forgotten for to-night, at least, for he had work to do. Now was the appointed time for the return of Miss Betsey's money and Mrs. Preston's silver. The servants were busy downstairs; the guests were dancing. He would try to accomplish his purpose.

[Ill.u.s.tration: David was Kneeling Before the Open Box.]

David slipped quietly up the steps and went into his own small room. The Preston house was divided by a long hall, with four large bedrooms on either side. David's room was on the same floor, but at the back of the house. He dragged a big wooden box out from under his bed and silently went to work to open it. He had already got together the tools that were necessary for the purpose. The box lid came off and on top of a pile of silver was Miss Betsey's money bag. It contained all the money that David had been able to persuade the thief to leave behind him.

David emptied his own pockets of every cent he had earned from Tom Curtis during the summer, and postponed the dearest ambition of his life as he did it. Then he crept out into the hall--like a thief, he thought bitterly. The hall was deserted--not even a servant in sight. It was the work of a moment for David to slip into Miss Betsey's bedroom and place her money bag under her pillow.

But to return the silver to the Prestons was a far more difficult matter. The burglar, on the night of the fire, had swept the old mahogany sideboard clean. He had taken away dozens of solid silver knives, forks, spoons and some large, old-fashioned goblets. It was impossible for David to return the silver to its rightful place in the dining room. He gathered up a load in his arms and ran to the front bedroom, where Mr. and Mrs. Preston slept. His cheeks were flaming from shame and nervousness. He hated, with all the hatred of a pa.s.sionate, honest nature, the task he was engaged in, but he knew of no other way to do what he believed to be right.

David made his first trip with the silver in safety. But there were still a few pieces remaining in the box. He could hear the music and the merry laughter downstairs. In a few seconds his task would be accomplished. He would bear in silence whatever came afterward.

The lad was kneeling on the floor before the open box. He had just reached down to gather the last handful of silver. His door was partly open; in his hurry David neglected to close it.

"h.e.l.lo, old chap! How are you?" a cheerful voice called out. Tom Curtis's frank, friendly face appeared at the now open door. "I did not have a chance to speak to you downstairs when I first came in, but Madge sent me up here for her fan, and I thought I'd take a peep in here to see if you could be found. What have you got there?" Tom stared with open curiosity at David's box of silver; then he looked puzzled and unhappy.

David had sprung to his feet with a muttered exclamation of anger.

Neither boy spoke for a moment. Some one was coming up the steps.

"Couldn't you find my fan, Tom? It is almost time for our dance,"

called Madge. "Why, here you are gossiping with David." Madge was now at the open door. She, too, stared at the open box of silver. Then her face turned white. "O David! what does it mean?" she pleaded. "I simply can't believe my own eyes."

CHAPTER XXII

MADGE MORTON'S TRUST

David would make no reply to either Madge's or Tom's questionings. He was sullen, angry and silent. After a while his two friends gave up in despair. But Madge and Tom decided that it would be better not to tell their dreadful secret to any one until the party was over. They did not wish to spoil the evening for the others.

The two friends went back among the dancers and Madge danced the rest of the evening as though nothing had happened. Yet all the time she felt sick at heart. She had trusted David and looked on him as her friend, while he had done her many kindnesses and she was grateful for them. In spite of the evidence of her own eyes she told herself that she still trusted him.

For the rest of the long evening David Brewster never left his own chamber, where Tom had found him. He did not even trouble to take the rest of the silver in to Mrs. Preston. He just sat, staring miserably in front of him, looking old and haggard. The worst had happened. He had been found with the stolen goods in his possession and he had absolutely no explanation to make to his friends.

It was after one o'clock in the morning when the last guest had departed from the Preston home.

"Dolly Varden looks tired," said Mrs. Preston kindly to Madge, who was lingering near her. "You had better run upstairs to bed, my dear."

"O Mrs. Preston!" cried Madge brokenly, "something strange--has--happened. Won't--you--make--David explain--it to--you?"

Then she threw her arms about the good woman's neck and began sobbing disconsolately.

"What's the matter, little girl?" asked Mr. Preston in alarm. He had come upon the scene just in time to witness Madge's outburst of grief.

But all Madge would say was: "Ask David. Make him explain. He isn't guilty; I know he isn't. He didn't steal the silver and Miss Betsey's money; I am sure he didn't."

While Madge was sobbing forth her defense of David, Ned, the old butler, came hurrying in with an excited, "Won't you please come into your bed room, sah; de silver am all back again."

Mr. Preston hurried after Ned. Sure enough, there was the silver, spread out on the sidetable. David was nowhere to be seen, however, and Mr.

Preston decided not to ask the boy any questions that night concerning the mysterious fashion in which the lost silver had suddenly been returned. Neither would he discuss the situation with any member of the household, and for this Madge was secretly very thankful.

David did not come down to breakfast with the family. Soon after Mr.

Preston went upstairs to his room. The household was strangely divided in its feeling. Jack Bolling, Harry Sears and George Robinson were all against David. Tom was silent and depressed. Miss Betsey Taylor had not closed her eyes all night, and was extremely cross. She hated to admit it, but her own judgment told her that David was a thief. Though Phil was bitterly sorry and would have done anything in the world she could to help David out of the sc.r.a.pe, she was forced to agree with Miss Betsey.

The young people openly discussed the question of David's guilt. Only Madge was absolutely silent. She would give no opinion one way or the other. But poor David found an unexpected champion in Eleanor. She did not believe that David had taken the money and silver. If he had, he must have meant it for a joke, or he had had some other good reason.

Nellie felt perfectly sure he would explain later on.

The entire party was out on the veranda that led from the dining room when Mr. Preston came back from his interview with David. Mr. Preston's face was very grave, and sterner than any one of his young guests had ever seen it. "The boy refuses to give me any explanation of his strange behavior," announced Mr. Preston to his wife in a voice that they could all hear. "He begs only that I let him leave the house at once. He says that the silver is all safe, and that he will pay Miss Betsey back the rest of her money as soon as he is able to earn it."

"What answer did you make to him, William?" asked Mrs. Preston nervously. Her kind face was clouded with sympathy and regret.

"I told David that he most certainly should not leave us," returned Mr.

Preston severely. "I insisted that he come among us, as he has before, and remain here until Mr. Curtis wishes to take his friends away. He will then do what he thinks wisest with the boy. But David shall _not_ escape the penalty of his own act. I have no desire to punish him by law. He has returned the stolen property, so I presume that he has had a change of heart; but his refusal to explain why he committed the theft, or to say that he is sorry for his deed, makes it hard for me to have patience with him. He is very trying."

The gloomy morning went by slowly. The motor launch boys took Phil, Lillian and Eleanor down the river bank. Madge would not go. The young people wished to see that the houseboat was set in order for sailing, and Tom suggested that they eat their luncheon aboard the "Sea Gull."

Only Madge guessed that generous-hearted Tom Curtis wished to spare David the embarra.s.sment of meeting his former friends so soon after his disgrace.

David came down to Mrs. Preston's luncheon table. His face looked as though it were cut from marble; only his black eyes burned brilliantly, and his mouth was drawn in a fine, hard line. He bowed quietly as he entered the room, but spoke to no one during the meal. Miss Betsey talked to him kindly, and asked him to come to her room some time during the afternoon.

David shook his head firmly. "It wouldn't do any good, Miss Taylor," he said in a firm tone. "I am willing to let you do anything to me that you like, but I have absolutely nothing to say."

After leaving the dining room, David hurried toward his retreat in the woods. Madge had gone upstairs and was watching the lad from her open window. As she saw him disappear down the road she ran quietly after him.

David had the start of her and he strode on so rapidly that it was difficult to catch up with him. Then, too, Madge did not wish David to see her until they were both well away from the Preston house.

But once the boy had vaulted the fence into the field, Madge called after him softly: "David, please stop a minute, won't you? I only wish to speak to you."

David marched straight on. If he heard Madge, he did not turn his head.

She climbed the fence into the field after him and ran on. "David, don't you hear me?" she panted, for David was walking faster than ever.

She was now so near to David that she knew there was no possibility of his not knowing that she had called to him. When he did not turn his head or show any sign of answering her, she stopped still in the center of the field, with an involuntary exclamation of hurt surprise. Then she turned her back on the boy and began to slowly retrace her steps toward home.

David had heard every sound that Madge made, even to her last little admission of defeat. As she moved away from him he stopped still. He then swung himself around and gazed wistfully after her retreating form.

"If she asked me the truth, I think I would have to tell it to her," he murmured to himself. "I don't dare trust myself. It is better that she should think me the rude boor that I am. But I am not a thief; I wish I could tell her that, at least."

Madge's eyes were full of tears as she stumbled back across the fields.