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 scrape, 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 embarrassment 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. She was hurt, angry and disappointed. Somehow, in spite of everything, she had believed that David could explain his mysterious possession of the stolen property. She would not try again to tell him that she still had faith in him, she thought resentfully.

The field was full of loose rocks and stones, but Madge was apparently oblivious to this. Suddenly a stone rolled under her foot, giving her ankle an unexpected wrench. With a little cry of pain she sank down on the ground to get her breath. In an instant David Brewster was at her side.

"I am afraid you have hurt yourself," he said humbly.

"No," she returned coldly. "I wrenched my ankle for a second; it is all right now."

"Do let me help you home," offered David miserably.

Madge shook her head. "No, thank you; I wouldn't trouble you for worlds," she protested icily.

"But you wouldn't trouble me; I should dearly love to do it," replied David so honestly that the little captain's heart softened though her severe manner never changed. "See here, Miss Morton," David burst out impetuously, "if you won't let me take you home, do let me help you to that old tree over there. You can't stay here in the broiling sun; it will give you a dreadful headache. I know you don't want to speak to me, and I will go right away again."

"I did want to speak to you very much, David," returned Madge gently; "only you would not let me."

"I know," answered David. "I did hear you call to me. I am not going to lie to you, too. I didn't answer because I didn't dare."

Madge put her hand on David's arm and let him assist her across the field to the tree. Her ankle was really well enough by this time for her to have walked alone, but Madge was not quite ready to walk alone.

David sat down abruptly beside his companion under the shadow of a mammoth tulip tree, staring moodily in front of him.

Madge said nothing. A minute, two minutes of silence passed.

"I don't believe you stole the things, David," she avowed simply.

David's eyes dropped and his face twitched. "How can you fail to believe that I stole them?" he questioned doggedly. "I had them in my possession. You know that."Madge turned her sweet, honest face full on the boy. "I don't know why I think so, David, but I do. I trust you, and I know you are honest. Do you dare to look me squarely in the face and say: 'Madge Morton, you are mistaken. I did steal Miss Betsey's money and Mr. Preston's silver'? If you will say this, I promise never to betray you and I will never trouble you with questions again. But if you don't, David Brewster, I am going to work until I come to the bottom of this mystery."

David Brewster covered his face with his hands. "I can't say it, Madge," he faltered; "it is too much to ask of me."

The little captain's face broke into happy smiles. "Never mind, David," she comforted him, "I believe I understand."