The Deserted Yacht

A young girl in a neat traveling suit of dark blue, alighted from the last car of the long train which had pulled into the Cheltham Bay station and with eager eyes surveyed the crowded platform.

“Expectin’ someone to meet you, Miss?” the colored porter inquired politely.

“Why, yes, I was,” Madge Sterling returned, a perplexed frown puckering her eyebrows. “Just set the suitcase down anywhere here. My friends will surely come in a few minutes.”

With profuse thanks, the porter pocketed the coin she gave him and swung back into his car. Madge looked anxiously about. On all sides persons were hurrying up to greet friends who had arrived on the train, but no one appeared to be searching for her.

“Strange Enid didn’t meet me or at least send word,” she thought. “I do hope I’ve made no mistake about the time.”

To make sure, she opened her purse and looked again at the letter which she very nearly knew by heart. She had made no error. Enid Burnett had stated very clearly that she would be on hand when the ten-fifteen train arrived.

“It will be more convenient to meet you at Cheltham Bay than any other place,” she had written in a bold scrawl. “From the station we’ll go directly to our yacht, The Flora which will be anchored in the harbor. Father will have everything in readiness for the trip, so the instant you set foot on deck, we’ll sail. Here’s to two glorious weeks on the water!”

Madge folded the letter and laid it away. There was nothing to do but wait. Undoubtedly, Enid had only been delayed.

She watched the heavy train move slowly from the station. The crowd on the platform rapidly thinned and soon she alone remained. After a little, she picked up her suitcase and carried it to the waiting room, stationing herself near a window where she could see all automobiles driving in and out of the railway yard.

“I can’t imagine what is keeping Enid,” she thought anxiously. “It looks as though I may be stranded here.”

It occurred to her that her friend might have dispatched the invitation upon the impulse of the moment, and then, in the rush of social affairs which always engulfed her, forgotten about it. Enid was generous to a fault but she was apt to be careless too. In school she had been known to make rash promises which she promptly forgot.

“If I’ve traveled all the way from Loon Lake, Canada, to participate in a mythical yacht cruise, I’ll never forgive her,” Madge assured herself.

Time dragged slowly. She made innumerable trips to the water fountain, she experimented with the gum machine and even tried to interest herself in a magazine. At length, after more than an hour had passed, she arose impatiently.

“I don’t believe she’s coming,” she decided. “There’s no sense in waiting here forever.”

After a brief debate, she walked over to an information window.

“I know this isn’t in your line,” she said apologetically to the young man in charge, “but I’m trying to locate a party by the name of Burnett. You’re not acquainted with anyone by that name?”

“You don’t mean Frank Burnett, the yachtsman?”

Madge nodded eagerly.

“I can’t say I know him,” the other informed, “but I did see by the paper that his yacht had dropped anchor in the bay. It came in yesterday, I believe.”

This information left Madge more puzzled than before. If The Flora had arrived at Cheltham Bay, she could think of no reason for Enid’s failure to meet her.