"Tania was eight years old when her mother died," finished Madge pensively. "Since then poor Tania has had such a dreadful time, living with that wretched old Sal, who has made a regular slavey of her, and she just had to go on with her pretending in order to be able to bear her life at all." Madge and Mrs. Curtis were both silent for a moment. The bright June sunshine flooded the room, offering a sharp contrast to Tania's sad little story. "You see why I wish to take her on the houseboat," pleaded Madge. "It seems so wonderful that we are going to Cape May and will be on the really seashore, near you and Tom, that each one of us feels the desire to do something for somebody just to show how happy we are. Miss Jenny Ann says we may take Tania, if you think it wouldn't be unwise." "She ought to go to school, Madge," argued Mrs. Curtis half-heartedly. "Tania does not know any of the things she should. Philip Holt, who does so much good work among the poor in Tania's tenement district, says that the child is most unreliable and does not tell the truth." Madge wrinkled her nose with the familiar expression she wore when annoyed. Her investigations had proved Philip Holt a liar, but she refrained from saying so. "You don't like Philip, do you?" continued Mrs. Curtis. "It isn't fair to have prejudices without reason. Mr. Holt is a fine young man and does splendid work among the poor. Madeleine and I have entrusted him with the most of the money we have given to charity. I am sorry that you girls don't like him, because he is coming to visit me at Cape May this summer." Madge dutifully stifled her vague feeling of regret. "Of course, we will try to like him, if he is your friend," she replied loyally. "It was only that we thought Mr. Holt had a terribly superior manner for such a young man, and looked too 'goody-goody'! But you have not answered me yet about Tania. Do let us have Tania. I'll teach her lots of things this summer, and it won't be so hard for her when she goes to school in the fall. She is pretty good with me." "Very well," consented Mrs. Curtis reluctantly, "for this summer only. The child will get you into difficulties, but I suppose they won't be serious. What is Madge Morton going to do next fall? Is she going to college with Phil, or is she coming to be my daughter?" Madge lowered her red-brown head. "I don't know, dear," she faltered. "You know I have said all along to Uncle and Aunt that, just as soon as I was grown up, I was going to start out to find my father. I shall be nineteen next winter. It surely is time for me to begin."