irrepressible Madge, dancing around in a circle and dragging Lillian Seldon, whose arm was linked in hers, with her.

Lillian and Phyllis had received their parents' consent, by letter, the day before and had already agreed that their respective monthly allowances should be placed in the general fund.

"Be still, Madge," begged Eleanor. "You are so noisy that you drive all thought from our heads. The first thing for us to consider is where we shall find a chaperon."

"No; the first thing to do is to find the house-boat. O Ship of our Dreams! tell us, dear Ship, where we can find you?" cried Phyllis Alden longingly. She was looking past her friends with half-closed eyes. Already she was, in the land of her imagination, in a beautiful white boat, floating beside an evergreen shore. The little craft was furnished all in white, with dainty muslin curtains hung at the tiny cabin windows. Flowers encircled the decks and trailed over the sides into the clear water. And on the deck of the little boat, lying or sitting at their ease, she could see herself and her friends.

"Wake up, Phil! Come back to earth, please," teased Madge, giving her usually sensible friend a sudden pinch. "I am going downstairs now to ask Miss Tolliver if we can go into Baltimore day after to-morrow. We must find our houseboat at once. School is so nearly over Miss Tolliver will be sure to let us go."

"But the chaperon, Madge," reminded Eleanor. "We haven't decided on one, you know."

"I have thought of a chaperon, if you girls are willing to have her," said Madge almost hesitatingly.

"Well," cried the other three voices in chorus, "who is it? Tell us sometime to-day!"

"Miss Jones!" declared Madge, a note of defiance in her voice. "I'm going to invite her now before I have time to change my mind. I'll explain later." Springing from her chair, she ran from the room, leaving her three friends to stare at each other in silent amazement.

CHAPTER III

THE SEARCH FOR A HOUSEBOAT

"Eleanor Butler, do hurry!" urged Madge two days later. "If we miss the train, I feel I shall never forgive you." The two girls were preparing for their trip to Baltimore.

"Let me alone, Madge," Eleanor returned. "If you will stay out of the room for ten minutes, I promise to be ready. You've talked so much in the last half hour that I haven't known what I was doing and I don't know now. You had better make another call upon Miss Jones. She is even more enthusiastic about your old houseboat scheme than you are." Eleanor laughed as Madge disappeared in the direction of Miss Jones's room.

"You must wish with all your heart that we shall find the houseboat to-day, Miss Jones," declared Madge in her impulsive fashion. "You see, everything depends on our not having to waste any time. The sooner we find our boat, the sooner we can begin our delightful vacation."

Miss Jones smiled. She was beginning to understand the impetuous Madge better than she had ever dreamed of knowing her, and she was very grateful for her invitation. Miss Jones was fairly well aware of how much it had cost her pupil to ask her. "Yes, I shall be thinking of you girls every minute," she declared. "Let me see. This is the twenty-fifth of May. School will close in another week. You girls wish to spend a week at home with your parents and relatives; but just as early in June as possible we are to go aboard our houseboat. That is our plan, isn't it, Madge?"

Madge nodded. Then, as she heard Phil and Lillian calling her, she waved a hasty farewell and darted from the room.

Madge had received a letter from the boy cousin who was at school in Baltimore. He had given her several addresses in Baltimore where there was just a bare chance that she might find a ready-to-use houseboat. He assured her, however, that houseboats were usually made to order, and that she might find some difficulty in securing what she wished, and must, therefore, not become easily discouraged.

Just before noon the four young women arrived in Baltimore on their quest for a house-boat. Lillian and Eleanor demanded their luncheon at once, but Phil and Madge protested against eating luncheon so early. "You can't be hungry already," argued Madge. "As for me, I shall never be able to eat until we find our boat."

For two hours the girls tramped about the boat yards in search of their treasure. They saw canoes and motor boats of every size and kind, and models of private yachts, but not a trace of a houseboat could they find. The representatives of the various boat companies whom they interviewed suggested the building of a houseboat at a cost of anywhere from six hundred to a thousand dollars.

Lillian and Eleanor were the first to complain of being tired. Then Phil, who was usually the sweetest-tempered of the four girls, began to show signs of irritability. Madge, however, undaunted and determined, would not think of giving up the search.

"Just one more place, girls," she begged; "then we can rest and have our luncheon somewhere. This is a very large ship-building yard we are going to. I am sure we can find our boat there."

Half an hour later the four chums turned wearily away from another fruitless quest. They were now in a part of Baltimore which none of them had ever seen before. A few blocks farther down the street they could see the line of the water and the masts of several sailing vessels that were lying near the shore.

"I tell you, Madge Morton," declared Phyllis Alden firmly, "whether or not we ever find a houseboat, there is one thing certain: I positively must have something to eat. I am half starved. What good would finding the boat do me if I were to die of hunger before I have even seen it?"

"Please don't be cross, Phil," soothed Madge. "I am sure we are all as hungry as you are. I am awfully sorry. We ought to have eaten luncheon before we came here. There isn't a restaurant in sight."

"I am sure I saw the sign of a funny little restaurant as we came by the corner," broke in Lillian. "It did look queer, but I suppose it would not be any harm for us to go in there."

"We don't care if it does look queer," declared Phyllis stoutly.

Turning, the girls retraced their steps to the corner.

Outside the swinging door of the small restaurant they hesitated. "I don't think we ought to go in there," argued Eleanor, "it is such a dreadfully rough-looking place."

It was indeed a very common eating house, where the men who worked on the wharves, the fishermen and sailors, were in the habit of getting their meals. The one dirty window showed half a dozen live crabs crawling about inside among the pieces of sea-weed. A row of old pies formed the background.

A moment later they had marched bravely up to the door. Dainty Eleanor shuddered as they crossed the threshold, and even Phil and Madge hesitated as a man's coarse laugh greeted them once they were fairly inside the restaurant room.

"Come on, children," said Madge, with a pretence of bravery she was far from feeling. "We are going into this restaurant to get something to eat. Don't look as if you thought you were going to be eaten. It is rather horrid, but perhaps they will let us have some bread and milk."

The quartette seated themselves at the first table they saw vacant. Just across from it were a number of men with rough, hard faces. They were evidently sailors from the nearby boats. The girls kept their eyes on the table, and Madge gave their order for tea and sandwiches in a low tone to the German boy who came forward to wait on them.

When the boy had departed with their order a silence settled upon the little group of girls. In each girl's mind was the thought that it had been unwise to enter the restaurant. By this time they had come to a realization of the fact that they were the only women in the room.

"We ought never to have come here," whispered Lillian, clutching Madge's arm.