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diff --git a/36230-0.txt b/36230-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..98feced --- /dev/null +++ b/36230-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5778 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Molly Brown's Post-Graduate Days, by Nell Speed + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Molly Brown's Post-Graduate Days + +Author: Nell Speed + +Illustrator: Charles L. Wrenn + +Release Date: May 26, 2011 [EBook #36230] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLY BROWN'S POST-GRADUATE DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: “Oh, Miss Molly, let’s stay in the ‘beechwood period’ +forever.”—Page 113.] + + + + +MOLLY BROWN’S POST-GRADUATE DAYS + +BY + +NELL SPEED + + AUTHOR OF “MOLLY BROWN’S FRESHMAN DAYS,” “MOLLY BROWN’S + SOPHOMORE DAYS,” “MOLLY BROWN’S JUNIOR DAYS,” + “MOLLY BROWN’S SENIOR DAYS,” ETC., ETC. + +WITH FOUR HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES L. WRENN + +NEW YORK + +HURST & COMPANY + +PUBLISHERS + + + + +Copyright, 1914 + +BY + +HURST & COMPANY + + + + + CONTENTS + + BOOK I. + I. The Arrival 5 + II. My Old Kentucky Home 22 + III. Wedding Preparations and Confidences 36 + IV. Burglars 51 + V. The Wedding 62 + VI. Buttermilk Tact 77 + VII. Pictures on Memory’s Wall 100 + VIII. All Kinds of Weather 114 + IX. Jimmy 143 + X. Aunt Clay Makes a Mistake 154 + + BOOK II. + I. Wellington Again 170 + II. Levity in the Leaven 189 + III. History Repeats Itself 208 + IV. A Barrel from Home 223 + V. Dodo’s Surprise Party 241 + VI. More Surprises 261 + VII. Dreams and Realities 269 + VIII. The Old Queen’s Crowd 288 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + + “Oh, Miss Molly, let’s stay in the ‘beechwood + period’ forever” Frontispiece + + “Hello, girls,” exclaimed Kent, hugging Molly, on + one side, and shaking hands with Judy, on the other 10 + + “Read me the poem yourself. Would you mind?” 218 + + The two Kentucky girls made a wonderfully charming picture 252 + + + + + MOLLY BROWN’S POST-GRADUATE DAYS. + + BOOK I. + + + + +CHAPTER I.—THE ARRIVAL. + + +“Oh, Judy, almost home! I wonder who will meet us,” cried Molly Brown. +“I feel in my bones that you and my family will be as good friends as +you and I have always been. You are sure to get on well with the boys.” + +Judy responded with a hug, thinking, with a happy twinkle in her large, +gray eyes, that, if by any chance the rest of the Brown boys could be as +attractive as Molly’s brother, Kent, and should find her as fascinating +as Kent had seemed to, when she met him in the spring before the college +pageant, she bade fair to have an exciting visit in Kentucky. + +Molly Brown and Julia Kean (Judy for short), after four busy years of +college life, had just graduated at Wellington, and were on their way to +Molly’s home in Kentucky, where Judy was to pay a long visit. As Molly +had been looking forward to the time when she could have some of her +college chums know her numerous and beloved family, she was very happy +at the prospect. Judy, who was ever ready for an adventure, was bubbling +over with anticipation. + +The girls sat gazing out on the beautiful rolling fields of blue grass +and tasseling corn, which Molly knowingly remarked promised an excellent +crop. Molly’s blue eyes were misty when she thought of dear old +Wellington College, the four years of hard work and play, and the many +friends she had made and left, some of them, perhaps, never to see +again. Her mind dwelt a long time on Professor Green, the delightful +old, young man, who had opened up a new world to her in literature; who +had been so very kind to her through the whole college course, often +coming to her rescue when in difficulties, and always sympathizing with +her when she most needed sympathy; and who had, finally, proved to be +her real benefactor, when she discovered that he was the purchaser of +those acres of perfectly good orchard that had to be sold to keep Molly +at college. On bidding him good-by, she had extended to him an +invitation from her mother to make them a visit in Kentucky, and she had +already speculated much as to whether the young, old man would accept. +Molly never could decide whether to think of him as an old, young man, +or a young, old man. Professor Green was in reality about thirty, but, +when one is under twenty, over thirty seems very old. + +Molly smiled when she thought of her parting scene with him, and made a +mental note that that was one of the things she must be sure to confess +to mother. The smile was enough to dispel the mist that was in her eyes, +and her mind turned to Chatsworth, her dear home. She thought of her +mother, her brothers and sisters; the decrepit old cook, Aunt Mary +Morton; Shep and Gyp, the dogs; her horse, President, no longer young, +having lived through four administrations, but still having more go in +him than many a colt, showing his fine racing blood and the “mettle of +his pasture.” + +“Only two miles more,” breathed Molly jubilantly. “We must get our +numerous packages together.” + +The girls had planned to have no bundles to carry on the train, nothing +but two highly respectable suitcases; but the fates were against +anything so unheard of as two females going on a journey with no extras. +They had seven boxes of candy presented at parting by various friends. A +large basket of fruit was added to their cares, put on the Pullman in +New York by the resourceful Jimmy Lufton, with instructions to the +porter to give it to the two prettiest girls who got on at Wellington, +with through sleeper to Kentucky. There were the inevitable shirtwaists +found in Molly’s bottom drawer; books and what not, lent to various +girls and returned too late to pack; and some belated laundry that Molly +had not had the heart to worry her old friend, Mrs. Murphy, +about—collars, jabots, and the muslin sash curtains from her room at +college that Molly could not make up her mind to put in her trunk in +their dusty state. These things were put in a bulging box and labeled by +Judy, quoting the immortal Mr. Venus, “Bones Warious.” + +“I wish we could forget it and leave it on the train,” said Molly. “The +things in it are all mine, and, now I come to think of it, I believe +there is nothing there of any real value except the jabots Nance made +me—those that Mrs. Murphy called my ‘jawbones.’ I could not bear to lose +them, and we have not time to dig them out. If Kent meets us he is sure +to tease me, and you know how badly I take a teasing. He says he is +lopsided now from carrying his sisters’ clothes that they have forgotten +to pack in their trunks.” + +“Let me call the ‘foul, hunch-backed toad’ of a bundle mine,” offered +Judy. “Your brother does not know me well enough to tease me.” + +“Don’t you believe it! Besides, you can’t fool Kent. He knows me and my +bundles too well. Here we are,” added Molly hastily, “and there is Kent +to meet us, driving the colts, if you please. It is a good thing you are +not Nance Oldham. She will not consent to ride behind any colt younger +than ten years old!” + +The train stopped just long enough for the girls to jump off, the porter +depositing their numerous belongings in a heap on the platform. + +[Illustration: “Hello, girls,” exclaimed Kent, hugging Molly, on one +side, and shaking hands with Judy, on the other.—Page 10.] + +“Hello, girls,” exclaimed Kent, hugging Molly, on one side, and shaking +hands with Judy, on the other, while a diminutive darkey swung on to the +colts’ bits, occasionally leaping into the air as the restive horses +tossed their proud heads. “My, it is good to see you! And your train on +time, too! That is such a rare occurrence that I have an idea it may be +yesterday’s train. You don’t mean to say that this is all of the +emergency baggage you are carrying?” grabbing the two highly respectable +suitcases and stowing them in the back of the trim, red-wheeled Jersey +wagon. The girls giggled, and Kent discovered the conglomerate +collection of packages that the porter had hastily dumped by the side of +the track. + +Molly beat a hasty retreat into the station, declaring that she must +speak to Mrs. Woodsmall, the postmistress, thus hoping to avoid the +inevitable teasing from her big brother. Judy, with the spirit and +somewhat the expression of a Christian martyr, picked up the aforesaid +despised, bumpy, bulging bundle, and, with a sweet smile, said: “This is +mine, Mr. Brown. Will you please take it? The rest of the things are +boxes of candy and parting gifts from various friends.” + +Kent took the disreputable looking package, which was not at all +improved by its long trip on the Pullman and the many disdainful kicks +the girls had given it. Now, in the last hasty handling, the porter had +loosened the much knotted string, the paper had burst, and from the +yawning gash there had crept a bit of blue ribbon, Molly’s own blue. +Judy, with her ever-ready imagination, had been heard to call it “the +blue of chivalry and romance, the blue of distant mountains and deep +seas.” + +Kent took the package, smiling his quizzical smile; the smile that from +the beginning had made Judy decide that he was very likable; a smile all +from the eyes, with a grave mouth. In fact, the young lady had been so +taken with it that she had practiced the expression before her mirror +for half an hour and then held it until she could try it on the first +person passing by. That person happened to be Edith Williams, who had +remarked: “Gracious me, Judy, what is the matter? I feel as though you +were some one in a hogshead looking through the bunghole at me.” Judy +was delighted. It was exactly the expression she was aiming for, but she +was sorry that she had not thought of the apt description herself. + +“Now, Miss Judy, I have known for four years from Molly’s letters what a +bully good chum you are, and have observed before now how charming and +beautiful, but this rôle of Christian martyr is a new one on me. Don’t +you know you can’t fool me about a Brown bundle? I could pick one out of +the hold of an ocean liner in the dark, just by the lumpy, bumpy feel of +it. Besides”—pointing to the bit of blue ribbon spilling through the +widening tear—“there are Molly’s honest old eyes peeping out, telling me +that this little subterfuge of yours is just an act of true friendship +on your part, to keep me from teasing her about her slipshod method of +packing. I tell you what I will do, Miss Judy, if you will do something +for me. I’ll make a compact with you, and promise to go the whole of +this day without teasing Molly.” + +“Well, what am I to do?” + +“Oh, it’s easy enough. Don’t call me Mr. Brown any more. Kent, from your +lips, would sound good to me. You see, there are four male Browns, and +every time you say ‘Mr. Brown’ we are liable to fall over one another +answering you or doing your bidding.” + +“All right; ‘Kent’ it shall be for this day and every day that you don’t +tease Molly.” + +“I meant just for the one day. The strain of never teasing Molly again +would shatter my constitution.” + +“Very well, Mr. Brown; just as you choose about that.” + +“Oh, well, I give up.” + +“All right, Kent.” + +Molly emerged from the postoffice, with Mrs. Woodsmall following her. +Such a stream of conversation poured from the latter’s lips that Judy +felt her head swim. + +“Glad to meet you, Miss Kean. I have long wanted to see some of Molly’s +correspondents. What beautiful postals you sent her last year from +Maine; the summer before from Yellowstone Park; and those Eyetalian ones +were grand; one year, even from Californy. You are the most traveled of +all her friends, I believe, but Miss Oldham can say more on a postal +than any of you, and such a eligible hand, too. Now-a-days all of you +young folks write so much alike, since the round style come in, I can +hardly tell your writin’ apart. It makes it very hard on a lonesome +postmistress whose only way of gitting news is from the mail she +handles. And now, since Uncle Sam has started this fool Rural Free +Delivery, I don’t git time to more than half sort the mail before here +comes Bud Woodsmall and snatches it from under my nose with irrevalent +remarks about cur’osity and cats. Gimme the good old days when the +neighbors come a-drivin’ up for their mail, and you could pass the time +o’ day with them and git what news out of them you ain’t been able to +git off of the postals, or make out through the thin ornvelopes, or +guess from the postmarks. Anyhow, I gits ahead of Woodsmall lots of +times. Jest yistiddy I ‘phoned over to Mrs. Brown that Molly would be in +on this two train. To be sure, Woodsmall had the letter in his auto, but +he has to go a long way round, and he’s sech a man for stopping and +gassin’, and Molly’s ornvelope was some thinner than usual, and I could +see mighty plain the time she expected to come. Said I to myself, said +I, ’Now, ain’t Mrs. Brown nothing but a mother, and don’t she want the +earliest news of her child she can git? And ain’t I the owner of that +news, and should I not desiccate it if I can? It so happened that +Woodsmall had a blow-out, and didn’t git yistiddy’s mail delivered until +to-day. Now, tell me, wasn’t I right to git ahead of him?” She did not +pause for a reply, but plunged into the stream of conversation again. + +“I don’t care if he is my own husband. He asked my sister first, and I +never would have had him if there had been a chance of anything better +offering. I wouldn’t have had him at all if I had foresaw that he was +going to fly in my face by gitting app’inted to R. F. D., and then fly +in the face of Providence by trying to run one of them artemobes.” + +Kent stopped the flow of words by saying: “Now, Mrs. Woodsmall, you are +giving Miss Kean an entirely wrong idea of you and Bud. She will think +you do not love him, and I am sure there is not a man in the county who +fares better than your husband, or who shows his keep as well.” + +The thin, hard face of the postmistress broke into a pleasant smile, and +Judy thought: “After all, Kent and Molly are very much alike in +understanding the human heart and in trying to make all around them feel +as happy as possible.” + +“Well, you see, Kent Brown, it’s this way: I jest natchally love to +cook, and Bud he jest natchally loves to eat, and I’ve got the +triflingest, no-count stomic that ever was seed. What’s the use of +cooking up a lot of victuals for myself, when I can’t eat more’n a +mouthful? And so,” she somewhat lamely concluded, “I jest cook ’em up +for Bud.” + +The colts could not be persuaded to stand still another minute, so they +had to call a hasty good-by to the voluble Mrs. Woodsmall. Then the +girls gave their attention to holding on their hats and keeping their +seats, while the lively pair of young horses pranced and cavorted until +Kent gave them their heads and allowed them to race their fill for a +mile or more of macadamized road. + +Judy was hardly prepared for such a trim turnout as the Jersey wagon, +and such wonderful horses, to say nothing of the road. She had yet to +learn that Mrs. Brown would have good, well-kept vehicles on her place; +that all the Browns would have good horses; and that all Kentuckians +insist on good roads. The number of limestone quarries throughout the +state make good macadamized roads a comparatively easy matter. + +What a beautiful country it was: the fields of blue grass, with herds of +grazing cattle, knee deep in June; an occasional clump of trees, +reminding one rather of English landscapes; and then the fields of corn, +proudly waving their tassels and shaking their pennant-like leaves, as +much as to say, “roasting ears for all.” + +“News for you, Molly,” said Kent, as soon as he could get the colts down +to a conversation permitting trot. “Mildred is to be married in two +weeks.” + +“Oh, Kent, why didn’t they write me?” + +“Mother thought it would be fun to surprise you.” + +Judy’s glowing face saddened. “Why, I should not be here at such a time. +I know I shall be in the way. I must write to papa to come for me +sooner.” + +“Now, Miss Judy, ‘the cat is out of the bag.’ You have hit on the real +reason why mother would not let any of us write Molly of the approaching +nuptials in the family. She was so afraid that you might fear you would +be de trop and want to postpone your visit to us, and she has been +determined that nothing should happen to keep her from making your +acquaintance, and that at the earliest. You see, poor mother has had not +only to listen to Molly’s ravings on the subject of Miss Julia Kean for +the last four years, but now she has to give ear to Mildred and me, +since we met you at Wellington, and she thinks the only way to silence +us is to have something to say about you herself.” + +Judy laughed, reassured. “You and Molly are exactly alike, and both of +you must ‘favor your ma.’ Well, I’ll try not to be in the way, and maybe +I can help.” + +“Of course you can,” said Molly, squeezing her. “You always help where +there is any planning or arranging or beautifying to be done. But, Kent, +tell me, why is Milly in such a rush?” + +“Why, Molly, I am surprised at you, laying it on Mildred. It happens to +be old ‘Silence and Fun’ who is so precipitate.” + +“Who is ‘Silence and Fun’?” asked Judy. + +“Oh, he is Milly’s fiancé, but the Brown boys call him that ridiculous +name. He has a fine name of his own, Crittenden Rutledge. But, Kent, +please tell me, why this haste?” + +“Well, you see Crit has been ordered out to Iowa by his steel +construction company, on a bridge-building debauch, and he thought Milly +might just as well go on with him and hold the nails while he wields the +hammer. Here we are, so put your hat on straight, and look your +prettiest, Miss Judy. I should hate for mother to think that we had been +misleading her.” + + + + +CHAPTER II.—MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME. + + +They turned into an avenue through a gate opened from the wagon by means +of a rope pulled by the driver. + +“How is that for a gate, Molly? I began my holiday by getting the thing +in order. It works beautifully now, but the least bit of rough handling +gets it off its trolley.” + +“It is fine, Kent. But tell me, are you to have your holiday now?” + +“Yes; you see I can help with the harvesting this week, and next week +the wedding bells have to be rung. And I thought any spare time I have I +could take Miss Judy off your hands.” + +“I am afraid that your holiday will be a very busy one,” laughed Judy; +“but maybe I can help ring the wedding bells, and, if I can’t do much +toward harvesting, I can at least carry water to the thirsty laborers.” + +Kent Brown was in an architect’s office in Louisville, working very hard +to master his profession, for which he had a fondness amounting to a +passion. Mrs. Brown had secretly hoped that one of her boys would want +to become a farmer, but they one and all looked upon Chatsworth as a +beloved home, but not a place to make a living. Their earnest endeavor, +however, was to keep up the place, and often their hard-earned and +harder-saved earnings went toward much needed repairs or farm machinery. +Mrs. Brown had to confess that a little ready money earned irrespective +of the farm was very acceptable; and, since her four boys were on their +feet and beginning to walk alone, and stretch out willing, helpful hands +to her, she found life much easier. + +Not that money or the lack of money had much to do with Mrs. Brown’s +happiness. She was a woman of strong character and deep feelings, with a +love for her children that her sister, Mrs. Clay, said was like that of +a lioness for her cubs. But that remark was called forth when Mrs. Clay, +Sister Sarah, one morning found Mrs. Brown making two pairs of new +stockings out of four pairs of old ones, after a pattern clipped from +the woman’s page of a newspaper. With her accustomed bluntness, she had +said: “Well, Mildred Carmichael, if you had only three and a half +children, instead of seven, you would not have to be guilty of such +absurd makeshifts.” + +Mrs. Brown had risen up in her wrath and given her such a talk that, +although ten years had elapsed since that memorable morning, Sister +Sarah still avoided the subject of stockings with Sister Mildred. + +Mrs. Brown was a great reader, and loved old books and old poetry. One +of Molly’s earliest remembrances was lying on the otter-skin rug in +front of the great open fire, with brothers and sisters curled up by her +or seated close to the big brass fender, while mother read Dickens +aloud, or the Idyls of the King, or something else equally delightful. +One by one the younger children would drop to sleep; and then Mammy +would come and do what she called “walk ’em to baid,” muttering to +herself, “I hope to Gawd that these chilluns won’t be a dreamin’ all +night about that stuff Miss Mildred done packed in they haids.” + +Just now, however, Molly’s memories were merged in anticipations, and +she watched eagerly for the first signs of welcome. + +As they approached the house, the colts neighed, and were greeted by +answering whinnies from two mares grazing in a paddock. The mares ran to +the white-washed picket fence and stretched their necks as far over as +they could, gazing fondly on their handsome offspring, trotting gaily +by, tossing their manes and tails. + +“The mothers are all coming out to meet their babies, and there is +mine!” cried Molly. + +It was mother. Oh, that beloved face; that familiar, spirited walk and +bearing of the head; those wide, clear, far-seeing gray eyes, and that +fine patrician nose, with the mouth ever ready to laugh in spite of a +certain sadness that lurked there! She folded Molly in her arms, but did +not forget to keep a hand free to clasp Judy’s, and, before Molly was +half through her hug, the older woman drew the young visitor to her, and +kissed her fondly. Then, with an arm around each girl, she said: “I am +truly glad to know my Molly’s friend, and gratified, indeed, to have her +with us.” + +“It means a great deal to me, too, Mrs. Brown, to see Molly’s mother and +home.” Judy feared that it would be forward to say what she had in her +mind, and that was “such a beautiful mother and home.” + +The house was of white-washed brick, with a sloping gray shingled roof +and green shutters, and a general air of roominess and comfort. A long, +deep gallery or porch ran across the front, which Architect Kent +explained to Judy was not quite in keeping with the style of +architecture, but had been added by a comfort-loving Brown to the +delectation of all who came after him. The lines of the old house were +so good that the addition of a mere porch could not ruin it, and +certainly added to its charm and comfort. To the left, in the rear, well +off from the house, were the barn-yard and stables, chicken houses, +smokehouse, and servants’ quarters; to the right, a tan-bark walk led to +the garden. Down that path came Mildred, by her side a young man who +seemed to be so amused by her lively chatter that he could hardly +contain himself. + +“Molly, Molly, I’m so glad to see you, and so is Crit, although he has +no words to tell you how glad he is. And, Miss Kean, Judy! It is +splendid for you to come just now. I am certain that Kent could not keep +the news, and you know by this time that Crit and I are to be married +the last of next week. Mr. Rutledge, let me introduce you to Miss Kean.” + +Although Crittenden had never uttered a word, he seemed to be able to +let Molly understand that he, too, was glad to see her, as he was +vigorously hugging her and two-stepping with her over the short, +well-kept grass. But, at Mildred’s call, he suddenly stopped, made a low +and courtly bow to his partner, and turned to Judy, clasping her hand in +a warm and friendly grasp, and giving her such a smile as she had never +before beheld. In it he made her feel that she was welcome to Kentucky; +that he intended to like her and have her like him; and had his heart +not been already engaged, he would lay it at her feet. Never a word did +he utter. He was tall, rather soldierly in bearing, with the most +beaming countenance Judy had ever seen, and such perfect teeth she +almost had her doubts about them. + +“Where is Sue, mother?” said Molly. “And Aunt Mary and Ca’line? Of +course the other boys are not home so early.” + +“Sue has gone over to Aunt Sarah Clay’s. She sent for her in a great +hurry. Sue was loath to go, fearing she could not get back before you +arrived, but you know your Aunt Clay and how autocratic she is. Sue +seems to be in great favor just now. Here is Aunt Mary, however.” + +Molly ran to meet the decrepit old darkey, embracing her with almost as +much fervor as she had her mother. Aunt Mary Morton was surely of the +old school: very short and fat, dressed in a starched purple calico, +with a white “neckercher” and a voluminous gingham apron, her head tied +up in a gorgeous bandanna handkerchief. + +“Oh, my chile, I’m glad to see you. I hope you done learned ‘nuf to stay +at home a while. Yo’ ma’s so lonesome ‘thout you, with Mr. Ernest ‘way +out West surveyin’ the landscape.” (Ernest, the oldest of the Brown +boys, was employed by the government on the geological survey.) “Mr. +Paul so took up wif sassiety in Lou’ville he can’t hardly walk straight, +and jes’ come home long ‘nuf to snatch a moufful—but I done tuck +’ticular notice he do manage to eat at home in spite er all his gran’ +frien’s. And now, Miss Milly gwine to step off; an’ ‘mos’ fo’ we git +time to cook up any mo’ victuals, Miss Sue’ll be walkin’ off. Praise be, +she ain’t a-goin’ fur. How she eber made up her min’ to gib her promise +to a man what lib up sech a muddy lane, beats me; an’ Miss Sue, the mos’ +‘ticular of all yo’ ma’s chilluns ‘bout her shoes an’ skirts an’ +comp’ny! Now Mr. John ain’t been a full-fleshed doctor mo’n two weeks +befo’ he so took up wif a young lady’s tongue what stayin’ over to Miss +Sarah Clay’s, and so anxious ‘bout feelin’ her pulse, dat yo’ ma an’ I +don’ neber see nothin’ of him. He jes’ come home from dat doctor’s +office in town long ‘nuf to shave and mess up a lot er crivats an’ peck +a little eatin’s, an’ off he goes. My ‘pinion is, dat’s what Miss Sarah +done sent for Miss Sue in sech a hurry ‘bout, but you’ ma say fer me to +hesh up, no sich a thing, she jes’ wan’ to talk ‘bout a suit’ble weddin’ +presen’ for little Miss Milly.” + +“Oh, Aunt Mary, isn’t it exciting to have a wedding in the family? You +always said Milly would be the first to get married, if Sue was the +first to get born,” said Molly, giving the old woman another hug for +luck. “Now I want you to shake hands with my dear friend, Miss Judy +Kean.” + +Aunt Mary made a bobbing curtsey to Judy, then gave her a friendly +handshake, looking keenly in her face the while. Then she nodded her +head, until the ends of the bright bandanna, tied in a bow on top of her +head, quivered, and said: “I don’ know but what that there Kent was +right.” + +“Aunt Mary, I am truly glad to meet you. If you could hear the blessings +that are showered on your head when Molly gets a box from home, and +could see how hard it is for all of those hungry girls to be polite when +the time comes for snakey noodles, you would know how honored I feel +that I am the first to make your acquaintance.” + +“Well, honey, what makes all of you go ‘way from yo’ homes to sech +outlandish places as collidges where the eatin’s is so scurse? Can’t you +learn what little you don’ know right by yo’ own fi’side?” + +“Maybe we could, Aunt Mary, but you see I haven’t any real fireside of +my own.” + +“What! did yo’ folks git burned out?” + +“Oh, no; but you see my father is an engineer, and mamma travels with +him, and stays wherever he stays; and, when I am not at school or +college, I knock around with them. Of course, I’d like to have a home +like Chatsworth, but it is lots of fun to go to new places all the time +and meet all kinds of people.” + +“Well, they ain’t but two kin’s, quality an’ po’ white trash, an’ I’ll +be boun’ you don’t neber take up wid any ob dat kin’, so you an’ yo’ ma +‘n’ pa mought jes’ as well stay in one place.” + +While the girls were up in Molly’s room, which Judy was to share, +getting ready for a belated dinner, they heard the sound of a piano, +cracked but sweet, like the notes of an old spinnet, then a male voice, +wonderful in its power and intensity, and at the same time so sweet and +full of feeling that Judy, ever emotional where art was concerned, felt +her eyes filling. + + “Shed no tear, oh, shed no tear! + The flower will bloom another year. + Weep no more! Oh, weep no more! + Young buds sleep in the root’s white core. + Dry your eyes, oh, dry your eyes! + For I was taught in Paradise + To ease my breast of melodies, + Shed no tear. + + “Overhead—look overhead + ’Mong the blossoms white and red. + Look up, look up! I flutter now + On this flush pomegranate bough. + See me! ’tis this silvery bill + Ever cures the good man’s ill. + Shed no tear, oh, shed no tear! + The flower will bloom another year. + Adieu, adieu—I fly. Adieu, + I vanish in the heaven’s blue, + Adieu, adieu!” + +“Oh, Molly, Molly, who is that?” cried Judy, weeping copiously, in spite +of the repeated request of the singer to “shed no tear.” + +“Why, that is Crit. Isn’t his voice wonderful?” + +“Do you really mean it is Mr. Rutledge? I thought he was dumb, and have +been feeling so sorry for Mildred.” + +“Dumb, indeed! He has the most beautiful voice in Kentucky, and can make +such an eloquent speech when roused that we have been afraid he would go +into politics. But, so far as passing the time of day is concerned, and +the little chit-chat that fills up life, he is indeed as dumb as a fish. +When he was a little boy he stammered and got into the habit of +expressing his feelings in silence, and he can still do it. He had a +teacher who cured him of stammering, but nothing will ever cure him of +silence, unless he has something important to say, and then nothing can +stop him. Mother tells of a man who stammered in talking but not in +singing. One day he was passing a friend’s house, and saw that the roof +was in a blaze, the inmates perfectly unconscious of the conflagration. +He rushed in, tried to speak, could only stutter, and then in +desperation burst into song. To the tune of ‘The Campbells Are Coming,’ +he sang, ‘Your house is on fire, tra-la, tra-la!’ Kent declares that +Crit proposed to Milly in song, but Milly herself is dumb about how that +came about.” + +“Well, anyhow, I have never heard such scintillating silence as his, and +I think that Milly ought to be a very proud and happy girl.” + + + + +CHAPTER III.—WEDDING PREPARATIONS AND CONFIDENCES. + + +The next two weeks were busy ones for all the Brown household: first and +foremost, the ever-crying need of clothes to be answered; second, the +old house to be put in apple-pie order; all the furniture rubbed and +rubbed some more; the beautiful old floors waxed and polished until they +shone and reflected the newly scrubbed white paint in a way Judy thought +most romantic. (But Judy thought everything was romantic those days.) +She was “itching to help,” and help she did in many ways. Molly would +not let her rub furniture or wax floors, but she had the pleasure of +hanging the freshly laundered curtains all over the house, and she was +received with joy in the sewing room by Miss Lizzie Monday, the +neighborhood seamstress. Miss Lizzie was of the opinion that the Browns +thought entirely too much about food and not nearly enough about +clothes. Indeed it was a failing of the mother, if failing she had, to +have good food, no matter at what cost, and then, since strict economy +had to be practiced somewhere, to practice it on the clothes. + +Miss Lizzie had once been present when they were packing a box to send +to Molly at Wellington, and had sadly remarked: “In these hard times, +with the price of food what it is, poor little raggedy Molly could have +had an entire new outfit from the contents of that box.” Mrs. Brown had +indignantly denied that she was spending any money at all on the box, +but the fact remained in Miss Lizzie’s mind that the food in the +delightful box, so eagerly looked for by the hungry college girls, +represented so much money that had much better be put on Molly’s outside +than her inside. + +“Not that much of it goes on her own inside. I know Molly too well, +bless her heart. Can’t I just see her handing out that good old ham and +hickory-nut cake and Rosemary pickle to those Yankees? And they, raised +on pale, pink, ready-cooked ham and doughnuts and corner grocery dill +pickles, don’t know what they are getting. Molly, in her same old blue +that I have made over twice for her!—and that ham would have bought the +stuff for a new one (not that I would have had it anything but blue). +The half gallon of Rosemary pickle would have trimmed it nicely, and the +hickory-nut cake would have made her at least two new shirtwaists, and +the express on the box would more than pay me for making the things.” + +Judy loved to hear Miss Lizzie talk, and used to encourage her to praise +her friend, while she sat helping to whip lace or planning the +bridesmaids’ dresses for Molly and Sue. These dresses were flowered +French organdies. Molly’s was covered with a feathery blue flower, that +never was on land or sea, but it was the right color, which was the +important thing; and Sue’s bore the same design in pink. The bride’s +dress, a lovely simple gown of the finest Paris muslin, was all done and +pressed and neatly folded in a box by the careful Miss Lizzie, with one +of her own sandy hairs secretly sewed in the hem, which is supposed to +bring good luck, and a “soon husband” to the owner of the hair. + +There was some doubt and much talk about how the bridal party was to +enter the parlor and where the minister was to stand. The parlor at +Chatsworth was not very suitable for an effective wedding, as it was in +the wing of the house and opened only into the hall, giving, when all +was considered, not much room for the growing list of guests. Although +it was a very large room, having only one entrance made it rather +awkward. It was only a few days before the wedding and this important +subject was still under discussion. + +“I can count at least ninety-eight persons who are sure to come,” said +Mrs. Brown, “all of them kin or close friends, and how they are to get +in this room and leave an aisle for the wedding party, goodness only +knows; and if the hall and porch are full, it will be very +uncomfortable.” + +Judy and Kent were pretending to be the bride and groom, grave Sue was +the minister, John and Paul, flower girls, and Molly, boss. Mildred and +Crittenden were not allowed to practice for their own wedding, as Miss +Lizzie said it was bad luck, and Miss Lizzie was authority on all such +subjects. So the two most interested were seated at the piano, +pretending to be the musicians doing “Chopsticks” to wedding march time. + +“Crit, I believe you will have to give Milly up. There is no way to have +a decently stylish wedding in this joint,” said Paul. “Let’s stop the +festive preparations and all of us go to Jeffersonville. It would make a +grand story for my paper.” + +Judy had been very quiet for some minutes and her face wore what Molly +called her “flashed upon that inward eye” expression. Suddenly she +cried, “I have it. Come on and let’s get married out of doors.” She +seized Kent by the hand and dragged him out on the lawn, the rest +following in a daze. + +“Look at that natural place to be married in: the guests under the +trees; room for everybody; a living altar of shrubs and flowers at the +end of the tan-bark walk; minister entering from the grass walk on one +side and Mr. Rutledge with his best man from the other; down the steps +Mildred on Ernest’s arm, followed by Molly and Sue. Can’t you see them +coming up the tan-bark walk? Just at sunset, the people in their light +festive clothes, your mother beautiful in her black crêpe de Chine, with +Paul and John and Kent standing by her making a dark note near the +bride? Oh, why, oh, why did they not have holly-hocks up this garden +walk instead of by the chicken yard fence? It would have made the color +scheme simply perfect.” + +Judy paused for breath. She had carried the crowd by her eloquence, and +so perfectly had she visualized the whole thing that each one was able +to see what she meant, and absolute and unanimous approval was given the +scheme. Kent, with his artistic eye, was in for it heart and soul, and +began to plan Japanese lanterns to be lit after the ceremony in the +rustic summer-house beyond, where supper was to be served, observing +that their color might somewhat take the place of the holly-hocks that +were in the wrong place. + +“Just where did you want the holly-hocks, Miss Judy? We might do better +another year if we knew just what your orders were.” + +“On both sides of the tan-bark walk, just beyond the intersection of the +grass walk. Can’t you see how fine and stately they would look, and what +a wonderful mass of color?” + +“Right, as usual. What an architect you would make! That power of +‘seein’ things’ is what an architect needs above everything. Any one can +learn to make it, but it is the one who sees it who is the great man or +woman, as in the present case.” + +Things had been humming so since Molly’s return that she had had no time +for the confidential talk with her mother that both were hungering for. +The Browns always had much company, but at this season there seemed to +be no end to the comings and goings of guests, principally comings: many +parting calls being paid to Mildred by old and young; Molly’s friends +hastening to greet her after the eight months’ absence at college; a +steady following of young men calling on Sue, in spite of her suspected +preference for Cyrus Clay, the nephew of Aunt Sarah Clay’s deceased +husband, and the one Aunt Mary objected to because of his living up such +a muddy lane. Presents were pouring in for the bride; notes had to be +answered; trains to be met; express packages to be fetched from the +station; and poor little Mrs. Woodsmall kept in a state of constant +misery over the Parcel Post business Bud was doing, and she with “never +a chanst to take so much as a peep.” + +Molly, ever mindful of others, hitched up President one off day and +drove over to the postoffice and got the poor thing. Then she let her +see every single present; and feel the weight of every bit of silver; +and hunt for the price mark on the bottom of the cut-glass; read all the +cards; and even go into the sewing-room where Miss Lizzie Monday proudly +showed her the clothes, and let her take a good look at the wedding +dress all folded up in its box. But when Mrs. Woodsmall began to pick at +the hem where her sharp eyes discovered an end of the stiff sandy hair, +sewed in to bring a “soon husband,” Miss Lizzie snapped on the top and +told her sharply to stop rumpling up Miss Milly’s dress. + +The night after Judy had solved the problem of where the wedding was to +be, Molly felt that she must have her talk with her mother. Judy was +tired and a little distrait, visualizing again no doubt; seeing the +wedding in her mind’s eye; regretting the holly-hocks; wondering if she +really did have the power that Kent attributed to her, that of a +creative artist. If she did have it, what should she do about it? Was it +not up to her to make something of herself if she had such a gift? Was +she willing to work, as work she would have to, if she really expected +to do something? At the back of it all was the thought, “Would Kent like +her so much if she should turn out to be a woman with a purpose?” Judy +was obliged to confess to herself as she dozed off that what Kent Brown +thought of her made a good deal of difference to her, more than she had +thought that any man’s opinion could make. + +Molly waited until she thought Judy was asleep and then crept softly +downstairs to her mother’s room. Mrs. Brown was awake and glad indeed to +see her “old red head,” as she sometimes lovingly called Molly, coming +to have a good talk. It is funny what a difference it makes who calls +one a red head. Now that horrid girl at college, Adele Windsor, had +enraged Molly into forgetting what Aunt Mary called her “raisin’” by +calling her a red head, and yet when mother called her the same thing it +sounded like sweet music in her ears. + +Mother had some things to tell Molly, too. She did not altogether +approve of John’s inamorata, the girl visiting Aunt Clay. It was a case +of Dr. Fell with her. + + “I do not love thee, Dr. Fell. + The reason why I cannot tell; + But this I know, and know full well, + I do not love thee, Dr. Fell.” + +Then she did think if Sue intended to marry Cyrus Clay she should not +lead on the other two young men, who seemed quite serious in their +attentions. She hated to say anything, because Sue was so dignified. + +“Now if it were you or Mildred, I would speak out, but you know Sue +always did scare me a little, Molly.” + +And Molly and her mother giggled like school girls over this confession. +Sue was very handsome and lovely and good, but she was certainly a +little superior, and Mrs. Brown found that, if she had any talking over +of things to do, she wanted either Molly or Mildred, who were “not too +pure or good for human nature’s daily food.” + +Molly was eager to know what her mother thought of Judy, and was +delighted at her frank liking for her friend. Then Molly had to tell her +mother of her hopes and ambitions; of her triumphs and disappointments +at college; and of her growing friendship for Jimmy Lufton, the clever +young journalist from New York who was trying to persuade Molly to go +into newspaper work; of his liking for her that she did not want to +ripen into anything more serious, but his last letters were certainly +growing more and more fervent. + +“Don’t flirt, little girl, don’t flirt. It would not be my Molly if she +deceived any one. Have all the fun you can and as many friends as +possible and enjoy life while you are young. You are sure to be popular +with every one, men and women, boys and girls, but don’t be a coquette.” + +“Mother, I don’t mean to be ever, and really and truly I have done +nothing to mislead Mr. Lufton, and maybe I am mistaken and conceited +about his feeling for me, and I truly hope I am. I have never done +anything but be my natural self with him.” + +Mrs. Brown smiled, well knowing that just being her natural self was +where Molly did the damage, if damage had been done. + +“Mother, there is something else.” Mrs. Brown knew there was, and was +patiently waiting. “You know Professor Green? Well, I gave him your +invitation to come to Kentucky.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“He said, ‘Thank you.’” + +“Is he coming?” + +“I don’t know.” Molly found talking to her mother about Professor Green +more difficult than she had imagined it would be. “When you wrote me two +years ago that some eccentric person had bought the orchard and I could +finish my college course, I told Professor Green about it, and also told +him I should like to meet the old man who had saved me from premature +school-teaching. And when he asked me what I’d do if I should happen to +meet him, I told him I would give him a good hug.” Molly faltered. +“Well, mother, when I told him good-by and gave him your invitation, I +went back and—I just gave him a good hug.” + +Mrs. Brown sat up so vigorously that Molly, sitting by her side, was +almost jolted off the bed. + +“Why, Molly Brown! And what did Professor Green do?” + +“He? Oh, he took it very philosophically and bowed his head ’til the +storm was over.” + +Mrs. Brown gave a gasp of relief. + +“He must be a good old gentleman, indeed. About how old is he, Molly?” + +“The girls say every day of thirty-two.” + +“Why, the poor old thing! Do you think he could take the trip out here +to Kentucky all by himself?” + +“Mother, please don’t tease. There is something else. Jimmy Lufton wrote +a little note which I found in the bottom of the basket of fruit he had +put on the train for us. It was wrapped around a lemon and said, ‘Here +is a lemon you can hand me if, when I come to Kentucky this summer, you +don’t want me to stay.’” + +“Oh! The plot thickens! So he is coming, too.” + +“Yes, but he lives in Lexington, and is coming out to see his family, +anyhow.” + +“Well, Molly, darling, you must go to bed now, but before you go tell me +one thing: do you want Professor Green to come to Chatsworth?” + +“Yes, mother, I think I do,” and giving her mother a hug that made that +lady gasp again and say, “Molly, what a hugger you are,” she flew from +the room and raced upstairs two steps at a time. + + + + +CHAPTER IV.—BURGLARS. + + +Judy was sitting up in bed, the moon lighting her enough for Molly to +see a wild, startled look on her face. + +“Molly, Molly, I hear something!” + +“You hear me making more noise than I have any business to at this time +o’ night. I have been having a good old talk with muddy.” + +“Oh, no, it wasn’t that. I knew you were downstairs. I haven’t been +truly asleep. I was ’possuming.’ It is out by the chicken yard, and I am +so afraid it is burglars after the pullets Aunt Mary told me she was +saving for chicken salad for the wedding supper. Lewis was to kill them +to-morrow.” + +Judy had entered so intensely into the Browns’ household affairs that +Molly herself was no more interested in the festive preparations than +was her guest. Molly drew cautiously to the window and peeped out; she +beckoned Judy, and the excited girls saw a sight to freeze the marrow in +their chicken-salad-loving bones: the thief had a wheelbarrow, and some +great gunny sacks over his arm, and was in the act of boldly opening the +chicken-yard gate. + +“If we call he will get away, and how else can we let the boys know? The +wretch may have those sacks full of chickens even now,” moaned Molly. + +There was a three-room cottage or “office,” as they called it, on the +side of the house next the garden where all of the young men slept in +summer. The girls feared that, in trying to let them know of the +burglar, if they went out of the front door they would startle Mrs. +Brown. And if they should try to go out the back door, in getting to the +cottage they would have to run across a broad streak of moonlight in +plain view of the thief, and thus give him ample time to get away with +his booty before they could arouse the boys. + +“Why shouldn’t we take the matter in our own hands and make him drop his +sacks and run?” said Molly. “I am not afraid, are you?” + +“Me afraid? Bless your soul, no. I am only afraid he will get off with +the chickens,” replied the intrepid Judy. “I have my little revolver in +the tray of my trunk, the one papa gave me when we were camping in +Arizona. I can load it in a jiffy. But what weapon will you take?” + +“I don’t see anything but my tennis racket. I’ll take that and some +balls, too, in case I have to hit at long range. There is really no +danger for us, as a chicken thief has never been known to go armed with +anything more dangerous than a bag.” + +They slipped on their raincoats, as they were darker than their kimonos, +and crept softly down the back stairs, out on the back porch, and down +the steps into the yard, keeping close in the shadow of the house until +they came to an althea hedge. Skirting this, still in the shadow, they +got near enough to the chicken-yard gate to have a good look at the +burglar. That burly ruffian, instead of bagging the pullets that were +peacefully roosting in a dog-wood tree, totally unconscious that they +were sleeping the last sleep of the condemned, had taken a spade from +his wheelbarrow, carefully spread out his gunny sacks and was digging +with great care around the holly-hocks, digging so deep and so far from +the roots that he soon got up a great sod without injuring the plants. +This he placed with great care in the barrow, and as he stepped into the +broad moonlight the girls recognized Kent. They clutched each other and +were silent, except for a little choking noise from Judy which might +easily have come from one of the condemned, having premonitory dreams of +the morrow. + +Kent worked on until his wheelbarrow was full of the lovely flowers. +Then he stuck in the spade and trundled it away toward the garden, the +girls silently following, still keeping as well in the shadow as was +possible, and holding tight to their weapons, although they no longer +had any use for them. On reaching the garden, they realized that Kent +must have been working many hours. He had already moved dozens of the +stately plants, and they now stood in the garden where they belonged, no +doubt glad of the transplanting from their former homely surroundings. +So deeply and well had Kent dug that they were uninjured by the move, +and he completed the job by dousing them plentifully with water from a +great tub that he had filled at the cistern. + +The effect was wonderful, as Judy had known that it would be, but her +surprise and pleasure that Kent should be so anxious to gratify her +every wish was great. She felt her cheeks glowing with excitement and +her heart pit-a-patting as it would not have done, even had Kent proved +to be the chicken thief they had imagined him to be. + +That young man finished his job, cleaned his spade, shook out the gunny +sacks, raked the débris from the walk, and then, giving a tired yawn and +stretching himself until he looked even taller than the six feet one he +measured in his stocking feet, he said out loud in a perfectly +conversational tone: + +“Now, Miss Judy, you may have the master mind that can imagine things +and see beforehand how they are going to look, but I’ll have you know it +takes work to create and drudgery to accomplish; and only by the sweat +of the brow can we ‘give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.’ +You and Molly can step out of the bushes and view the landscape.” + +“Oh, Kent, did you know we were there all the time?” + +“Certainly, little Sister, from the time Miss Judy went like a chicken +with the gapes, I have known you were with me; but you seemed to be +having such a good time I hated to break it up. You might have stepped +in and helped a fellow, though.” + +“Oh, we were doing the head work,” retaliated Judy. + +Kent laughed, and then he had to tease them about their adventure and +their weapons, especially Molly’s racket and balls. + +“We had better crawl into the hay now, however. It is getting mighty +late at night, or, rather, mighty early in the morning, and where will +our beauty be if we don’t get to sleep? I’ll see you to the back door.” + +“You needn’t,” said Molly. “You must be dead tired, and here is the +office door open for you. There is no use in your coming any farther. We +can slip around the front way and be in the house in no time.” + +“Well, good morning. I am dead tired, and such brave ladies as you are +need no escort. Better luck to you next time you go burglar hunting.” + +It was a wonderful night, or rather morning, as Kent had indicated. The +moon hung low on the horizon ready for bed, as an example to all up-late +young ladies. The stars, with their rival retiring, were doing their +best to get in a little shine before daylight. Everything was very +still. The tree frogs and crickets and Katy-dids had suddenly ceased +their incessant noise. There was a feel in the air that meant dawn. + +What was it that greeted the ears of the tired Kent? Old tennis player +that he was, it sounded to him like the twang of a racket in the hands +of a determined server who means to drive a ball that the champion +himself could not return. Then came the dull thud of the ball, a groan, +a scream; then the sharp crack of a pistol, more screams from inside the +house; lights, doors opening, all the household awake, and Paul and John +and Crit, who had spent the night at Chatsworth, tumbling out of the +office almost before Kent could get around the house. There he found +Judy fallen in a little heap on the grass, and Molly carefully and +coolly aiming a second tennis ball, this time at a real burglar. + +The man climbing from the upper gallery of the house had been surprised +by the girls as they came from the garden. At Molly’s first ball he had +dropped to the ground, and Judy had caught him on the fly, as it were. +The second tennis ball got him square on the jaw, but he was already +down and out. Kent declared afterward, when the smoke of battle had +cleared away, that it was not like Molly to hit a fellow when he was +down. She had always been a good sport until now. + +Mrs. Woodsmall, it seems, had talked too much about the weight of +Mildred’s silver, and had dwelt too long on the recklessness of the +Browns in having all of those fine things in the little hall room with +the window opening on the upper gallery, where anybody with any +limberness could climb up that twisted wisteria vine and get away with +anything he had a mind to. A tramp, hanging around the postoffice +window, had overheard her and, having more limberness than any other +commodity, had endeavored to help himself. + +Dr. John came with first aid to the injured, and found the man more +scared than hurt. It was hard to tell which ball had done most damage; +certainly Molly’s was the more effective in appearance. Her first she +had served straight at his nose, so disfiguring that member that the +rogues’ gallery officials would have had difficulty in identifying him. +The second found his jaw and gave him so much pain that John feared a +fracture. Judy’s little pistol had done good work. A flesh wound on the +arm was the verdict for her. + +The ground was strewn with silver in every kind of fancy novelty that a +bride is supposed by her dear friends to need—or why else do they give +them to her? + +Then Crittenden Rutledge opened his mouth and spoke. As usual when he +did such a thing it was worth getting up before dawn to hear him. + +“Don’t you think, Mildred, darling, we might give the poor fellow three +or four cheese scoops and several butter knives and a card tray or two? +A young couple could easily make out for a while with one of each, and +if he will promise to go back to Indiana and stay—— You did come from +Indiana, didn’t you?” The man gave a grin and nodded. “Well, if you +promise to go back and never put your foot in Kentucky again, I’ll go +wrap up Aunt Clay’s vases for you.” + +Mrs. Brown, thankful that her brood was safe and no more damage done the +poor, wicked tramp than a sore shoulder, a swollen nose and a fractured +jaw, sent them all to bed with instructions to sleep late, and told +Molly and Judy to stay in bed for breakfast. The burglar was put in the +smokehouse for safekeeping until sun-up, when John and Paul expected to +take him to Louisville, swear out a warrant against him and land him in +jail. When the time came, however, to transfer their prisoner from +smokehouse to jail, they found the door open, the man gone and a fine +old ham missing. + +“An’ they ain’t a single pusson in the whole er Indianny what knows how +ter cook a ham, either,” bewailed Aunt Mary. + +“To think the ungrateful wretch went off without Aunt Clay’s vases,” +muttered Crittenden Rutledge. + + + + +CHAPTER V.—THE WEDDING. + + +The wedding came off so exactly as Judy had planned it that it seemed to +her to be a proof of the theory of transmigration of the soul, and that +in a previous incarnation she had been to just such a wedding. The +eldest brother, Ernest, arrived from the far West just in time to change +his clothes and give the bride away. There were three understudies for +his part, so there was not much concern over his non-arrival until he +got there with a blood-curdling tale of wrecks and wash-outs that had +delayed him twenty-four hours. Then all of them got very much concerned +and Mrs. Brown reproached herself for being so taken up with Mildred’s +wedding that she had forgotten to worry about the absent one for the +time being. Ernest resembled Sue more than any of the rest of them, and +had a good deal of her poise and dignity. “But I’ll wager that he is not +as serious as he seems,” thought Judy, detecting a twinkle in the corner +of his sober eyes. + +Mildred looked lovely, and she had such a sweet, trusting look in her +eyes as she came down the steps and up the tan-bark walk on Ernest’s +arm, that Crittenden Rutledge, waiting for her at the end of the walk, +broke away from his best man and went forward several yards to meet his +bride. Sue and Molly brought up the rear; Sue, composed and calm with +her sweet dignity; but Molly, so deeply moved by this beloved sister’s +marriage and the break in their ranks, the very first, that she felt her +knees trembling and wondered if it could be possible that she was going +to ruin everything and burst into tears or fall in a faint or do +something terrible. But she didn’t. The familiar voice of their old +minister in the opening lines of the Episcopal marriage service brought +her to her senses, and she was able to follow the ritual in her mind, +but she dared not trust herself to look up. She kept her eyes glued to +her bouquet of “love-in-the-mist,” that Miss Lizzie Monday had brought +her that morning, picked from her own old-fashioned garden. + +“I know the groom will send the bridesmaids flowers, but somehow, Molly, +I don’t want you to carry hothouse flowers. These ‘love-in-the-mists’ +will look just right with your dress and your eyes and your ways.” + +So Molly carried Miss Lizzie’s “bokay” and put the flowers that the +groom sent her in a vase in the parlor. But Molly was not thinking of +her dress or her eyes, except to try to keep the tears in them, since +come they would, and not let them run out on her cheeks. Mildred’s +responses were inaudible except to dear old Dr. Peters, the minister, +but Crittenden’s were so loud and clear and resonant that it was almost +like chanting, and Judy had to smile when she could not help thinking of +the stammering man’s “Your house is on fire, tra la, tra la.” + +“I pronounce you man and wife.” + +All is over. Molly can let the tears fall now if she wants to, but, +strange to say, she does not seem to want to any more. Such a rejoicing +is going on. Everybody seems to be kissing everybody else. Aren’t they +all more or less kin? Mildred and Kent, the center of a gay crowd, are +fondly kissing the ones they should merely shake hands with, and +formally shaking hands with their nearest and dearest, just as in a fire +people have been known to carry carefully the pillows downstairs and +throw the bowls and pitchers out of the window. Kent has his wits about +him, however, and kisses Judy, declaring it is all in the day’s work. + +A stranger standing on the outskirts of the crowd during the whole +ceremony seemed much more interested in the bridesmaid dressed in blue +than in the bride herself, and when this same bridesmaid felt herself +swaying a little as though her emotion might get the better of her, if +one had not been so taken up with the central figures on the stage he +might have noticed the stranger start forward as though to go to her +assistance. But he, too, was brought to his senses by the calm voice of +Dr. Peters in the opening words of the service, and saw with evident +relief that the bridesmaid had gained control of herself. He was a tall +young man with kind brown eyes and light hair, a little thin at the +temples, giving him more years perhaps than he was entitled to. + +When the service was over and the general confusion ensued, he made his +way swiftly to where Molly stood, and without saying one word of +greeting he put his arm around her and tenderly kissed her. Molly was so +overcome with astonishment that she could only gasp, “Professor Green! +What are you doing here?” + +“I am having a very pleasant time, thank you, Miss Molly. I got your +mother’s kind invitation to attend your sister’s wedding, and—here I am. +Didn’t your brother Paul tell you that I had come?” + +“No, we have been so occupied, I believe I have not seen Paul to-day.” + +“I went to his newspaper office in Louisville to find out something +about how to get here, and he asked me to drive out with him. Are you +sorry I came, Miss Molly?” + +“Sorry? Oh, Professor Green, you must know how glad I am to see you! +But, you see, I was a little startled, not expecting you and thinking of +you as still at Wellington.” + +“If you were thinking of me as being anywhere at all, I feel better. +Were you really thinking of me?” + +“Yes,” said the candid Molly, “and wasn’t it strange that I was thinking +of you just as you came up—and—and——” but, remembering his manner of +greeting her, she blushed painfully. + +“You are not angry with me, are you, my dear child? I felt so lonesome. +You see everybody seemed to know everybody else, and there was such a +handshaking and so forth going on that before I knew it I was in the +swim.” + +“Almost every one here is kin or near-kin, and weddings in Kentucky seem +to give a great deal of license,” said Molly, recovering her equanimity. +“Of course I am not angry with you. I could not get angry with any one +on Mildred’s wedding day.” + +But Molly felt that in a way Edwin Green had paid her back for the hug +she had given him. She had hugged him because he was so old that she +could do so with impunity, and he in turn had kissed her because he felt +lonesome, forsooth, and she was so young that it made no great +difference. His “My dear child” had been a kind of humiliation to Molly. +What is the use of being a senior and graduating at college if a man +very little over thirty thinks you are nothing but a kid? + +“Professor Green is not so very much older than Ernest,” thought Molly, +“and I wager he will not treat Judy with that +old-enough-to-be-your-father air! Here am I getting mad on Mildred’s +wedding day when I just said I could not! And, after all, Professor +Green has been very kind to me and means to be now, I know.” Turning to +him with one of “Molly’s own,” as Edith Williams termed her smile, she +said, “Now you must meet my mother and all the rest of them.” + +Mrs. Brown looked keenly and rather sadly at the young professor. This +coming of men for her daughters was growing wearisome, so the poor lady +thought; but she liked Edwin Green’s expression and found herself +trusting him before he got through explaining his sudden appearance in +Kentucky. + +“After all, maybe he is only thinking of Molly as one of his pupils. His +buying the orchard meant an interest in her college course and nothing +else.” + +Mrs. Brown introduced him to the relatives and friends near her, and +Molly had to leave him and make herself useful, as usual, in seeing that +the refreshments were forthcoming. + +When they had decided to have the wedding out of doors, it had seemed +best to have the supper al fresco, and now brisk and very polite colored +waiters were busy bringing tables and chairs from a side porch and +placing them on the lawn. An odor of coffee and broiled sweetbreads, +mingling with that of chicken salad and hot beaten biscuit, began to +rival the fragrance of the orange flowers and roses. + +The crowd around the bride thinning out a little to find seats at the +tables, Professor Green was able to make his way to Mildred and +Crittenden. After greeting them, he espied Judy talking sweetly to a +stern-looking woman with a hard face and a soft figure, who was dressed +severely in a stiff black silk, with most uncompromising linen collar +and cuffs. Her iron-gray hair was tightly coiled in a fashion that +emphasized her hawk-like expression, but with all she looked enough like +Mrs. Brown to establish an undeniable claim to relationship with that +charming lady. Mrs. Brown herself, in a soft black crêpe de Chine and +old lace collar and cuffs, with her wavy chestnut hair, was more +beautiful than any of her daughters, the bride herself having to take a +second place. + +Judy was delighted to see the professor, and not nearly so astonished as +Molly had been, the truth being that Paul had told that young lady of +Edwin Green’s arrival, with the expectation that she would inform Molly. +But Judy, realizing the state of excitement that Molly was in, +determined to keep the news to herself and not give Molly anything more +to feel just then, even if in doing so she, Judy, would appear to be +careless and forgetful. Judy understood the regard that Molly had for +Professor Green—better than Molly herself did. She remembered Molly’s +expression and misery when little Otoyo, their Japanese friend at +Wellington, had told them of his being so dangerously ill with typhoid, +and how Molly had lost weight and could neither sleep nor eat until the +crisis had passed. + +“Did you ever see such a beautiful wedding in your life?” said Judy. + +“Never, and I am told it was all your plan, even to the holly-hock +background.” + +“Well, you see the idea was floating around in the air, and I was just +the one who had her idea-net ready and caught it. Ideas are like +butterflies, anyhow—all flying around waiting to be pounced on—but the +thing is to have your net ready.” + +“Yes, and another thing, not to handle the butterfly idea too roughly. +Many an idea, beautiful in itself, is ruined in the working out,” said +her companion. + +“That is where taste comes in.” + +Judy would have liked to chase the metaphor much farther with the +agreeable young man, but she remembered that she had set out to +fascinate Aunt Clay, and it was Aunt Sarah Clay to whom she had been +talking when Professor Green had come up. She introduced him, and Mrs. +Clay immediately pounced on him with a tirade against innovations of all +kinds. + +Looking very much as we are led by the cartoonists to expect a +suffragist to look, Mrs. Clay was the most ardent “anti.” Opposed to all +progress and innovations, and constantly at war on the subject of higher +education of women, she carried her conservatism even to the point of +having her grain cut with a scythe instead of using the up-to-date +machinery. Professor Green was her natural enemy, for was he not +instructor in a girls’ school where, she was led to understand, belief +in equal suffrage was as necessary for entrance as the knowledge of +Latin or mathematics? + +Professor Green, ignorant of the antagonism she felt for him and his +calling, endeavored to make himself as agreeable as possible to Molly’s +aunt. He listened with seeming respect to her attack on modernism and +then turned the subject to the wedding, her pretty nieces and +fine-looking nephews. + +“I never heard of any one getting married out of doors before in my +life, and had I known they were contemplating such a thing I certainly +should not have set my foot on the place, nor would I have sent them the +handsome wedding present I did. I shall not be at all astonished if the +bishop reprimands that sentimental old Dr. Peters for allowing anything +so undignified in connection with the church ritual. They had much +better jump over a broomstick like Gypsies and not desecrate our prayer +book in such a manner. Mildred Carmichael has brought all her children +up to have their own way. The idea of none of those boys being willing +to stay on the farm where their forefathers managed to make a living, +and a very good one! They, forsooth, must go as clerks or reporters or +what not into cities and let their farm go to rack and ruin, already +mortgaged until it is top-heavy. Then when they do make a little, they +must squander it in this absurd new-fangled machinery, labor-saving +devices that I have no use for in the world. And now Molly, not content +with four years wasted at college, to say nothing of the money, says she +wants to go back to fit herself more thoroughly for making her living. +Living, indeed! Where are her brothers that she need feel the necessity +of making her living?” + +“But, Mrs. Clay,” Judy here broke in, “my father says that there are +only three male relatives that a woman should expect to support her: her +father, her husband and her son. Since Molly has none of these, she, of +course, wants to do something for herself. Even with a father, unless +the father is very well off, it seems to me a girl ought to help after a +lot has been spent on her education. I certainly mean to do something, +but the trouble is, the only thing I can do will mean more money spent +before I can accomplish anything.” + +“And what does such a charming person as Miss Kean expect to do?” asked +the irascible old lady. + +“I want to go to Paris and study to become a decorator.” This was too +much for Mrs. Clay. Without saying a word, she turned and stalked across +the lawn where the waiters were carrying trays of food. + +“Hateful old thing! I hope food will improve her temper. It would +certainly be acceptable to me. See, here comes Kent with a table! I’ll +find Molly and we can have a fine foursome, and you shall taste Aunt +Mary’s beaten biscuit, hot from the oven. No wonder Molly is such an +angel. If, as the cereal ads. say, we are what our food makes us, any +one raised on Aunt Mary’s cooking would have to be good. Goodness knows +what Aunt Clay eats! It must be thistles and green persimmons!” + + + + +CHAPTER VI.—BUTTERMILK TACT. + + +Mildred, dressed in her pretty brown traveling suit, off to Iowa; the +last slipper and handful of rice thrown; the last lingering guest +departed; daylight passed and the moon well up; and at last Mrs. Brown +and Judy and Molly were free to sink on a settle on the porch, realizing +for the first time how tired and footsore they were. + +“Oh, my dears, I feel as though I could never get up again! It is a good +thing I am so tired, for now I shall have to sleep and can’t grieve for +Mildred all night. I begged Professor Green to stay, but he had to go +back to Louisville. However, he is coming out to Chatsworth to-morrow to +pay us the promised visit. We shall have to pack the presents in the +morning to send to Iowa, and glad I’ll be to get them out of the house. +Did I tell you, Molly, that Aunt Mary, Ca’line and Lewis are all going +off to-morrow to Jim Jourdan’s basket funeral? We shall be alone, you +and Judy and I. Sue goes to your Aunt Clay’s for a few days, and Kent +starts back to work, the dear boy. Such a comfort as he has been! Ernest +has to look up some friends in town, but will be out in time for supper. +I fancy he will drive Professor Green out from Louisville. Good night, +my dear girls, I know you are dead tired.” + +So they were, so tired that Judy overslept in the morning, but Molly was +up betimes to help the servants get off on their gruesome spree. + +“Now ain’t that jes’ like my Molly baby? She don’ never fergit to be +he’pful. Th’ ain’t no cookin’ fer you to do to-day, honey; they’s plenty +of bis’it lef’ from the jamboree las’ night; they’s a ham bone wif ‘nuf +on it fer you and yo’ ma an’ Miss Judy to pick on; they’s a big bowl er +chick’n salid in the ‘frigerater that I jes’ bodaciously tuck away from +that black Lewis. I done tol’ him that awlive ile my’naise ain’t no +eatin’s fer niggers. If his insides needs a greasin’ he kin take a good +swaller er castor ile. Tell yo’ ma I made that lazy Ca’line churn fo’ +sun-up ’cause they wa’nt a drap er butter in the house, an’ the +buttermilk is in the big jar in the da’ry. They’s a pot er cabbage +simperin’ on the back er the stove, but that ain’t meant fer the white +folks, but jes’ in case we needs some comfort when we gits back from the +funeral. I tried to save some ice cream fer my honey baby from las’ +night an’ had it all packed good fer keepin’, but looked like in the +night I took sech a cravin’ fer some mo’ I couldn’ sleep ‘thout I had +some, an’ by the time I opened up the freezer an’ et some, it looked +like the res’ of it jes’ melted away somehow.” + +“Well, Aunt Mary, I am so glad you got some more. Have a good time and +don’t worry about us. We shall get along all right. You see there are no +men on the place to-day, and women can eat anything the day after a +party. You know my teacher, Professor Green, is going to be here for a +visit. He is coming this evening in time for supper, and I do hope you +won’t be too tired after the basket funeral to make him some waffles.” + +“What, me tired? I ain’t a-goin’ to be doin’ nothin’ all day but enjyin’ +of myself; and if I won’t have the stren’th myself to stir up a few +waffles fer my baby’s frien’s, I’s still survigerous ’nuf to make that +Ca’line do it. I allus has a good time at funerals an’ a basket funeral +is the mos’ enjyble of all entertainments.” + +Judy came on the scene just then and begged to be enlightened as to the +nature of a basket funeral. + +“Well, you see, honey, when a member dies at a onseasonable time, or at +the beginning of the week an’ you can’t keep him ‘til Sunday, or in +harvestin’ time when ev’ybody is busy an’ the hosses is all workin’, why +then we jes’ bury the corpse quiet like. And then when work gits slack +an’ there is some chanst to borrow the white folks’ teams, we gits +together an’ ev’ybody takes a big lunch an’ we impair to the seminary +an’ have a preachment over the grave and then a big jamboree.” The old +woman stopped to chuckle, and such a contagious chuckle she had that you +found yourself laughing with her before you knew what the joke was. + +“I ‘member moughty well when this here same Jim Jourdan, what is to be +preached over an’ prayed over an’ et over to-day, was doin’ the same by +his second wife Suky Jourdan, an’ that was after I had buried my Cyrus +an’ befo’ I took up wif my Albert. It was a hot day in July when +fryin’-size chick’ns was jes’ about comin’ on good an’ fat, an’ I had a +scrumptious lot of victuals good ‘nuf fer white folks. Jim looked so +ferlorn that I as’t him to sit down an’ try to worry down some eatin’s +with us. He was vas’ly pleased to do so, an’ look like he couldn’ praise +my cookin’ ‘nuf; an’ befo’ we got to the pie, he up an’ ast me to come +occupy Suky’s place in his cabin. I never said one word, but I got up +an’ fetched a big pa’m leaf fan out’n the waggin an han’ it to him. +‘What’s this fer, Sis Mary?’ sez he, an’ sez I, ‘You jes’ take this here +fan an’ fan you’ secon’ ‘til she’s col’, and then come a seekin’ yo’ +third.’” + +The girls laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks over Aunt +Mary’s unique courtship. The red-wheeled wagon came up driven by Lewis +with Ca’line sitting beside him, dressed within an inch of her life. +Molly got a box for Aunt Mary to step on to climb into the vehicle, but +the old woman refused to budge until Lewis took out the back seat and +got a rocking chair for her to sit in. + +“You know moughty well, you fergitful nigger, that I allus goes to +baskit funerals a-settin’ in a rockin’ cheer! Go git the one offen the +back po’ch, the red one with the arms to it. Sho as I go a-settin’ on a +back seat some lazy pusson what can’t borrow a team will come a-astin’ +fer to ride longside er me, an’ I don’ want nobody a-rumplin’ me up, an’ +’sides ole Miss never lent this waggin fer all the niggers in Jeff’son +County to come a-crowdin’ in an ben’in’ the springs. Then when we gits +to the buryin’ groun’, I’ll have a cheer to sit in an’ not have to go +squattin’ ‘roun’ on grabe stones.” + +“Good-by, Aunt Mary, good-by, Ca’line and Lewis.” + +The girls waved until they were out of sight and then went laughing into +the quiet house. It seemed quiet, indeed, after the hub-bub of the day +before. + +“Everything certainly stayed clean with all of the guests out of doors. +I have never had an entertainment with so little to do when it was +over,” said Mrs. Brown. “It was a good day for the servants to go away, +with the house in such good order and enough left-overs from the wedding +supper for three lone women to feed on for several meals. I wonder how +your Aunt Clay is getting on with her harvesting? She is so headstrong +not to borrow my cutting machine! Why does she insist that flour made +from wheat cut with a scythe makes better bread than that cut with +modern machinery?” + +“She declared yesterday, mother, that she was not going to feed her +hands until they got through mowing, if it took them until nightfall. +She says you spoil all darkeys that come near you, and she is going to +show them who is boss on her place. Kent infuriated her by telling her +she would get herself into trouble if she did not look out; that her +wheat was already overripe, and if she attempted to make her hands work +over dinner hour they would leave it half cut; but advice to Aunt Clay +always sends her in the opposite direction.” + +“I wish I had not let Sue go over there. Most of those harvesters are +strangers from another county, and they might do something desperate if +Sarah antagonized them.” + +“Don’t worry, mother, Cyrus Clay is over there, and he is sure to take +good care of Sue.” + +The morning was spent with much gay talk as they packed the presents. +Mrs. Brown was the kind of woman who could enter into the feelings of +young people. She seemed to be of their generation and was never shocked +or astonished when in their talk she realized that things had changed +since her day. She usually made the best of it and put it down to +“progress” of some sort. They worked faithfully, and by twelve o’clock +had tied up and labeled the last parcel to go in the last barrel. + +“Come on, girls, let’s have an early lunch and then we can have our much +needed and hard-earned rest. A good nap all around will make us feel +like ourselves again.” + +How good that lunch did taste! Molly had been so excited that she could +not swallow food the evening before, and Mrs. Brown had been so busy +looking after guests that she had forgotten to eat. Judy was the only +one who had done justice to the supper, but, having tested it, she was +more than willing to try the chicken salad again. + +“Never mind washing the dishes; put them in a dish-pan for Ca’line. Get +into your kimonos and take a good nap. I am sick for sleep,” yawned Mrs. +Brown. + +In five minutes they were dead to the world, lost in that midsummer +afternoon sleep, the heaviest of all slumber. Everything was perfectly +still except the bees, buzzing around the honey-suckle. A venturesome +vine had made its way through Molly’s window, ever open in summer, and +as Judy lay, half asleep, she amused herself by watching a great bumble +bee sip honey from the fragrant flowers, and his humming was the last +sound that she was conscious of hearing. It seemed like a minute, so +heavily had she slept—it was really several hours—when she was awakened +with a nightmare that the bee was as big as a horse and his humming was +that of a thousand bees. + +“Molly, Molly, listen, what is that noise?” + +Molly, ever a light sleeper, was out of bed in a trice and at the front +window. What a sight met her eyes! Coming up the avenue was a crowd of +at least forty negroes, all of them carrying scythes and whetstones, the +sweat pouring from their black faces and bared necks and hairy chests, +their white teeth flashing and eyeballs rolling, the sun glinting on the +sharp steel of their scythes, menace and fury darkening the face of +every man and coming from them a mutter and hum truly like the buzzing +of a thousand bees. + +Judy, although she was weak with fear, could not help thinking, “That is +the noise on the stage that a mob tries to make.” + +“Aunt Clay’s hands have struck work, and to think there is not a man on +this place! I believe the blackguards know it! Load your pistol, Judy, +and let us go to mother.” + +Mother was already up, hastily gowned in her wrapper, and opening the +front door when the girls came down the stairs. The intrepid lady walked +out on the porch with seemingly no more fear than she had had the day +before when she came forward to meet the wedding guests. Head erect, +eyes steady and piercing, with a voice clear and composed, she said, +“Why, boys, you look very tired and hot, and I know you are hungry. Sit +down in the shade, on the porch steps and under the trees, and I will +see what we can find for you to eat. Molly, go get that buttermilk out +of the dairy. The jar is too heavy for you to lift, so take Buck and let +him carry it for you.” + +Mrs. Brown, with all of her courage, was never more scared in her life. +All the time she was talking she had been looking in the crowd of black +faces for a familiar one, and was glad to recognize Buck Jourdan, a +good-natured, good-for-nothing nephew of Aunt Mary’s. At her command +Buck stepped forward, and then a dozen more of the men came to the +front, unconsciously separating themselves from the rest. Mrs. Brown saw +that they were all negroes belonging in her neighborhood. At her calming +words and proffer of food such a change came over the faces of the mob +that they hardly seemed to be the same men. Their teeth showed now in +grins instead of sinister snarls; they stacked their murderous looking +weapons against the paulownia tree and sat down in the shade with +expressions as peaceful as the wedding guests themselves had worn. + +Molly and the stalwart Buck were back in an incredibly short time with +the five-gallon jar of buttermilk and a tray of glasses not yet put away +from yesterday’s feast. Mrs. Brown herself dipped out the smooth, +luscious beverage, seeing that each man was plentifully served, while +Molly went into the house to bring out all the cooked provisions she +could find. Mrs. Brown beckoned the trembling and wondering Judy to her +and whispered, “Go ring the farm bell as loud as you can. All danger is +over now, I feel sure, but it is well to let the neighbors know that we +are in some difficulty; and I fancy I heard a horse trotting on the +turnpike, and whoever it is might hasten to us at the sound of a farm +bell at this unusual hour.” + +Judy flew to the great bell, hung on a high post in the back yard. She +seized the rope, and then such a ding-dong as pealed forth! The bell was +a very heavy brass one, and at every pull Judy, who was something of a +lightweight, leaped into the air, reciting as she jumped, “Curfew shall +not ring to-night.” + +“That is enough, my dear. There is no use in getting help from an +adjacent county, and I fancy every one in Jefferson County has heard the +bell by this time,” said Mrs. Brown, stopping her before she had quite +finished the last stanza, which Judy said was like interrupting a good +sneeze. + +Molly had found all kinds of food for the hungry laborers, who were more +sinned against than sinning. They had gone in all good faith to the Clay +farm to harvest the wheat according to the antiquated methods of the +mistress, with scythes and cradles. When twelve o’clock, the dinner hour +everywhere, came, they were told that they could not eat until they had +finished. They had worked on until two, and then, infuriated with hunger +and goaded on by the thought of the injustice done them, they had struck +in a body and gone to the mansion to try to force Mrs. Clay to feed +them; but they had been held back at the point of a pistol, by that lady +herself. Then they had determined to get food where they could find it. + +Mrs. Brown gathered this much from the men as, their hunger assuaged, +they talked more connectedly. + +“Th’ ain’t nothin’ like buttermilk to ease yo’ heart,” said Buck Jasper. +“Mis’ Mildred Carmichael kin git mo’ outen her niggers fillin’ ’em full +er buttermilk than her sister Mis’ Sary kin fillin’ ’em full er +buckshot.” + +Mrs. Brown was right; she had heard a horse trotting on the turnpike. +The men were wiping their mouths on the backs of their hands and coming +up one at a time to thank the gracious lady for her kindness in feeding +them, when Ernest and Edwin Green came driving into the avenue. + +“Mother! What does this mean? I thought I heard the farm bell when I was +about two miles from home, and now I find the yard full of negro men. +Have you had a fire?” + +Mrs. Brown explained that Aunt Clay had made things pretty hot for her +hands, but so far there had been no other fire. She welcomed Professor +Green to Chatsworth and called the grinning Buck to take his suitcase to +the cottage porch. Judy wondered at her calm manner and at her saying +nothing to Ernest about their being so frightened, not realizing that +one hint of the trouble would have sent Ernest off into a rage, when he +might have reprimanded the negroes and all the good work of the +buttermilk have been undone. Molly was pale and Professor Green, ever +watchful of her, asked Judy to give him an account of the matter, which +she did in such a graphic manner that he, too, turned pale to think of +the danger those dear ladies had been in. He made himself at home by +making himself useful, and helped Molly to carry back into the kitchen +the empty glasses and plates from the feast of the hungry darkeys. She +laughingly handed him a great, iron pot in which cabbage had been +cooked. + +“I am wondering what Aunt Mary will say about her cabbage. Mother sent +me into the house to get all available food, when she realized that the +hands were simply hungry and that food would be the best thing to quell +their rage. Aunt Mary had this huge pot of cabbage on the back of the +range; she said in case Lewis jolted down the lunch she was going to eat +at the basket funeral she would have it cooked in readiness. The poor +dogs will have to go hungry, too, or have some more corn bread cooked +for them. I found this big pan full of what we call dog-bread, made from +scalded meal and salt and bacon drippings, baked until it is crisp. The +men were crazy about it with pot liquor poured over it. You can see for +yourself how they licked their platters clean.” + +“The Saxon word ‘lady’ means bread-giver, but I think that you and your +mother have given it a new significance, and the dictionaries will have +to add, ‘Dispenser of cabbage and buttermilk and dog-bread.’” + +More wheels, and Aunt Mary and Lewis, with Ca’line much rumpled and +asleep on the front seat, her shoes and stockings in her lap and her +bare feet propped gracefully on the dashboard, had returned. Aunt Mary +was much excited. + +“What’s all dis doin’? Who was all dem niggers I seen a-streakin’ crost +the fiel’s? Buck Jourdan, ain’t that you I see hidin’ behine that tree? +I thought I hearn the farm bell as we roun’ed the Pint, but Lewis lowed +’twas over to Miss Sary Clay’s. Come here, Buck, an’ he’p me out’n dis +here waggin. You needn’t think you kin hide from me, when I kin see the +patch on yo’ pants made outen the selfsame goods I gib yo’ ma to make +some waistes out’n, two years ago come next Febuway.” Buck came +sheepishily forward to help his old aunt out of the vehicle. “Nex’ time +you wan’ ter hide from me you’d better make out to grow a leettle +leaner, or fin’ a tree what’s made out to grow some wider so’s you won’t +stick out beyant it. What you been doing, and who’s been a-mashin’ down +ole Miss’s grass, and what’s my little Miss Molly baby a-doin’ workin’ +herself to death ag’in to-day?” + +Buck endeavored to explain his appearance, and told the story of the +strike at Mrs. Clay’s and how they were just passing through Mrs. +Brown’s yard when she had come out and invited them all to dinner. His +story was so plausible and his voice so soft and manner so wheedling, +that Professor Green, who overheard the conversation, was much amused, +and had he not already got the incident from Judy might have believed +Buck, so convincing were his words and manner. Not so Aunt Mary, who had +partly raised the worthless Buck and knew better than anyone how he +could use his silver tongue to lie as well as tell the truth, but +preferred the former method. + +“Now, look here, you Buck Jourdan, you ain’t no count on Gawd’s green +yearth ‘cep to play the banjo. What you been doin’ hirin’ yo’self out to +Miss Sary Clay, jes’ like you ain’t never know’d that none of our fambly +don’ never work fer none er hern? Yo’ ma befo’ you an’ yo’ gran’ma befo’ +her done tried it. Meanin’ no disrespect to the rest er the Carmichaels, +der’s the ole sayin’, ‘What kin you expec’ from a hog but a grunt?’ I +knows ‘thout goin’ in my kitchen that Miss Molly done gib all you +triflin’ niggers my pot er cabbage an’ the dog-bread I baked fer those +houn’s an’ bird dogs what ain’t no mo’ count than you is, ‘cept’n they +can’t play the banjo.” + +“Buck Jourdan, is that you?” said Ernest, coming forward and +interrupting Aunt Mary’s tirade. “I am going to get Miss Molly’s banjo +and you can sit down and give us some music. I haven’t heard a good tune +since I went West.” + +Buck, glad to escape any farther tongue lashing from his relative, and +always pleased to play and sing, tuned the banjo and began: + + “‘Hi,’ said the ’possum as he shook the ‘simmon tree, + ‘Golly,’ said the rabbit; ‘you shake ’em all on me.’ + An’ they went in wif they claws, an’ they licked they li’l paws, + An’ they took whole heaps home to they maws.” + +After several stanzas sung in a soft melodious voice, Buck, at Molly’s +request, gave them, to a chanting recitative the following song, +composed by a friend of Buck’s, and worthy to be incorporated in +American folk-lore, so Professor Green laughingly assured Mrs. Brown. + + THE MURDER OF THE RATTAN FAMILY. + + “One evening in September, in eighteen ninety-three, + Jim Stone committed a murder, as cruel as it could be. + ’Twas on the Rattan family, while they were preparing for their bed. + Jim Stone, he rapped upon the door, complaining of his head. + The first was young Mrs. Rattan. She come to let him in. + He slew her with his corn knife—that’s where his crime begin. + The next was old Mrs. Rattan. Old soul was feeble and gray. + Truly she fought Jim Stone a battle till her strength it give way. + The next was the little baby. When he, Jim Stone did see, + He raised up in his cradle. ‘Oh! Jim Stone, don’t murder me!’ + Next morning when he was arrested—wasn’t sure that he was the one. + Till only a few weeks later he confessed to the crime he done. + They took him to Southern Prison, which they thought was the + safetes’ place. + When they marched him out for trial, he had a smile upon his face. + And after he was sentenced, oh! how he did mourn and cry. + One day he received a letter, saying his daughter was bound to die. + Next morning he answered the letter and in it he did say, + ‘Tell her I’ll meet her there in Heaven, on the sixteenth of Februway.’ + They led him upon the scaffold with the black cap over his head. + And he hung there sixteen minutes ‘fore the doctors pronounced + him dead. + Now wouldn’t it have been much better if he’d stayed at home + with his wife, + Instead of keeping late hours, and taking that family’s life?” + + + + +CHAPTER VII.—PICTURES ON MEMORY’S WALL. + + +The next week was a very quiet and peaceful one at Chatsworth. There had +been so many excitements, with burglars and negro uprisings and what +not, that Molly was afraid her visitors would think Kentucky deserved +the meaning the Indians attached to it—“the dark and bloody +battle-ground.” + +Ernest, home for a vacation from his labors in the West, endeavored to +keep Judy from missing the attentions of Kent, who was back at his grind +in Louisville in the architect’s office, and did not get home each day +until time for a late supper. Judy liked Ernest very well, as she did +all of the Browns, but Kent and Molly were her favorites still, and the +evenings were the best of all when Kent came home and, as he put it, +“relieved Ernest.” + +Molly found herself on easier terms with Professor Green than she had +ever imagined possible. If he did not consider her quite an old lady, +she at least was beginning to look upon him as not such a very old +gentleman. He played what Kent designated as a “cracker-jack” game of +tennis, and turned out to be as good a horseman as the Brown boys +themselves. + +“If he only had a little more hair on his forehead,” thought Molly, “he +would look right young.” + +Aunt Mary was the unconscious means of consoling her for his lack of +hair. “Honey, I likes yo’ teacher mo’n any Yankee I ever seed. He’d +oughter rub onions on his haid to stimilate the roots. Not but what he +ain’t han’some, baldish haid an’ all, with them hones’ eyes an’ that +upstandin’ look. I done took notice that brains don’ make the best sile +to grow ha’r on an’ lots er smart folks is baldish. Mindjer, I wouldn’ +go so fer as to say bald haided folks is all smart. It looks like some +er them is so hard-haided the ha’r can’t break th’ough the scalp.” + +Of course, the first day at Chatsworth he had to be taken out to view +his possessions, the two acres of orchard land. It was a possession for +any man to be proud of. It lay on the side of a gently sloping hill +covered with blue grass and noble, venerable, twisted apple trees, that +Molly said reminded her of fine old hands that showed hard, useful work. + +“And these trees always have done good work. You know my father called +these his lucky acres. He was always certain of an income from these +apples. The trees have been taken care of and trimmed and not allowed to +rot away as some of the old orchards around here have, Aunt Clay’s, for +instance. She is so afraid of doing something modern that she refused to +spray her trees when the country was full of San José scale, and in +consequence lost her whole peach orchard and most of her apples. This is +where our ‘castle’ used to be.” + +They were in a grassy space near the middle of the orchard, where a +stump of an old tree was still standing. The land, showing a beautiful +soft contour, sloped to the worm fence at the foot of the hill, where +the grass changed its green to a brighter hue and a beautiful little +stream sparkled in the sun. + +“All of us, even Sue, who is not given to such things, cried when in a +big wind storm our beloved castle was twisted off of its roots. It was a +tree made for children to play in, with low spreading branches and great +crotches, the limbs all twisted and bent and one of them curving down so +low you could sit in it and touch your feet to the ground. We had our +regular apartments in that tree and kept our treasures in a hole too +high up for thieves to have any suspicion of it. It was so shady and +cool and breezy that on the hottest day we were comfortable and often +had lunch here. We played every kind of game known to children and made +up a lot more. ‘Swiss Family Robinson’ when they went to live up the +tree was our best game. I remember once Kent gathered a lot of +peach-tree gum and ruined my slippers trying to make rubber boots out of +them as the father in Swiss Family Robinson did. Our castle had +wonderful apples on it, too. They grew to an enormous size, and if any +of them were ever allowed to get really ripe they turned pure gold and +tasted—oh, how good they did taste.” + +Edwin Green listened, enchanted at Molly’s description of her childhood +and the beloved play-house. He half shut his eyes and tried to picture +her as a little girl in a blue sun-bonnet—of course she must have had a +blue bonnet—climbing nimbly up the old apple tree, entering as eagerly +into the game of Swiss Family Robinson as she was now playing the game +of life, even letting her best little slippers be gummed over to play +the game true. He had a feeling of almost bitter regret that he hadn’t +known Molly as a little girl. “She must have been such a bully little +girl,” thought that highly educated teacher of English. + +“Miss Molly, do you think that this would be the best place to build my +bungalow? Place it right here where your castle stood? Maybe I could +catch some of the breezes that you used to enjoy; and perhaps some of +the happiness that you found here was spilled over and I might pick it +up. It could not be so beautiful as your tree castle, but it is my +‘Castle in the Air.’ If I put it here I should not have to sacrifice any +of the other trees; there is room enough where your old friend stood for +my modest wants. Would it hurt your feelings to have me build a little +house where your childish mansion stood?” + +“Why, Professor Green, the idea of such a thing! It would give me the +greatest happiness to have your bungalow right on this site. I would not +be a dog in the manger about it, anyhow. Are you really and truly going +to build?” + +“I hope to. Of course, I shall have to ask your mother if she would mind +having such a close neighbor.” + +“Well, I hardly think mother would expect to sell a lot and then not let +the purchaser build. She may have to sell some more of the place. I wish +it could be that old stony strip over by Aunt Clay’s. You know our home, +Chatsworth, is a Brown inheritance, and the Carmichael place adjoining +belonged to mother’s people. They call it the Clay place now, but until +grandfather died it was known as the Carmichael place. Aunt Clay married +and lived there and somehow got hold of grandfather and made him appoint +her administratrix and executrix to his estate. She managed things so +well for herself that she got the house with everything in it and the +improved, cleared land, giving mother acres and acres of poor land where +even blackberries don’t flourish and the cows won’t graze. The sheep +won’t drink the water, but they do condescend to keep down the weeds. I +really believe that Aunt Clay is the only person in the world that I +can’t like even a little bit. I fancy it is because she has been so mean +to mother. I believe I could get over her being cross and critical with +me, but somehow I can’t forgive the way she has always treated mother.” + +“I found her a very trying companion at your sister’s wedding, and she +looks as though she had brains, too. But how anyone with sense could be +anything but kind to your mother I cannot see.” + +Molly beamed with pleasure. “Ah, you see how wonderful mother is. I +thought you would appreciate her. She likes you, too, Professor Green. +Mother says she believes she understands boys better than girls and can +enter into their feelings more.” + +“Oh, what am I saying?” thought Molly. “I wonder what the Wellington +girls would say if they could know I forgot and as good as called their +Professor of English a boy! Well, he does look quite boyish out of +doors, with his hat on.” + +They strolled on down toward the brook, Molly patting each tree as they +passed and telling some little incident of her childhood. + +“I truly believe you love every one of these trees. You touch them as +lovingly as you do President or the dogs, and look at them as fondly as +you do at old Aunt Mary.” + +“Indeed, I do; and, as for this little stream, it makes to me the +sweetest music in the world.” + +“Miss Molly, when I build my little bungalow, will you come and have +lunch with me as you used to with your brothers in the old castle? I’ll +promise you not to let you eat at the second table as you did when you +took breakfast with me last Christmas.” + +They both laughed at the thought of that morning; and Molly remembered +that it was then that she had overheard Professor Green tell his +housekeeper of his apple orchard out in Kentucky, and had realized for +the first time that it was he who had bought the orchard at Chatsworth. + +“Indeed, I will take lunch with you, and would like to cook it, too, as +I did your breakfast that cold morning. Do you know, when you came +downstairs and I peeped at you through the crack in the pantry door, you +looked and sounded almost as fierce as the mob of colored men who came +hungry from Aunt Clay’s last week? The nice breakfast I fixed for you +seemed to soften your temper just as mother’s buttermilk did the +darkies’. Aunt Mary says, ‘White men and black men is all the same on +the inside, and all of them is Hungarians.’” + +Edwin Green laughed, as he always did when Molly got on the subject of +Aunt Mary. The old woman was a never failing source of wonder and +amusement to him; and Molly mimicked her so well that you could almost +see her short, fat figure with her head tied up in a bandanna +handkerchief, vigorously nodding to punctuate each epigram. + +“Next winter I hope to have my sister with me at Wellington, and she +will see that this ‘Hungarian’ is fed better than my housekeeper has. +You will come to us a great deal, I hope. I am overjoyed that you are to +take the postgraduate course. That was the one pleasant thing your aunt, +Mrs. Clay, had to tell me when I conversed with her at the wedding, and +she little dreamed how pleasant it was, or I doubt her giving me that +joy.” + +“I am truly glad. I hated to give up right now. It seemed to me as +though I could see the open door of culture but had not reached it, and +had a lot of things to learn before I had any right to consider myself +fit to pass through it. Mother and Kent together decided it must be +managed for me. They are both bricks, anyhow.” + +The young people had come to the little purling brook during this +conversation, and at Molly’s instigation had turned down the stream and +entered, through a break in the worm fence, a beautiful bit of woods. +The beech woods in Kentucky are, when all is told, about the most +beautiful woods in the world. No shade is so dense, no trees more noble, +not even oaks. With the grace of an aspen and the dignity of an oak, the +beech to my mind is first among trees. + + “Of all the beautiful pictures + That hang on Memory’s wall, + Is one of a dim old forest + That seemeth the best of all. + + “Not for the gnarled oaks olden, + Dark with the mistletoe, + Not for the violets golden + That sprinkle the vale below. + + “Not for the milk-white lilies + Leaning o’er the hedge, + Coquetting all day with the sunbeams + And stealing their golden edge.” + +Molly quoted the verses in her soft, clear voice, adding: + +“I say ‘gnarled oaks olden’ for euphony, but I always think ‘beech.’ I +don’t know what Miss Alice or Phœbe Gary, whichever one it was who wrote +those lovely verses, would think of my taking such a liberty, even in my +mind.” + +“No doubt if Miss Alice or Phœbe Cary could have seen this wood, she +would have searched about in her mind for a line to fit beeches and let +oaks go hang. This is really a wonderful spot. Can’t we sit down a +while? I hope your mother will let me have right of way through these +woods when I build my nest in the orchard. This makes my lot more +valuable than I thought. I have never seen such beech trees; why, in the +East a beech is not such a wonderful tree! We have an occasional big +one, but here are acres and acres of genuine first growth. You must love +it here even more than in the orchard, don’t you?” + +“Well, you see the orchard period is what might be known as my early +manner; while the beech woods is my romantic era. I used to come here +after I got old enough to roam around by myself, and a certain mystery +and gloom I felt in the air would so fill my soul with rapture that (I +know you think this is silly) I would sit right where we are sitting now +and cry and cry just for the pure joy of having tears to shed, I +suppose! I know of no other reason.” + +Professor Green smiled, but his eyes had a mist in them as he looked at +the young girl, little more than a child now, with her sweet, wistful +expression, already looking back on her childhood as a thing of the past +and her “romantic era” as though she had finished with it. + +“Oh, Miss Molly, let’s stay in the ‘beech wood period’ forever! None of +us can afford to give up romance or the dear delight of tears for tears’ +sake. I love to think of you as a little child playing in the apple +orchard, and as a beautiful girl wandering in the woods. But do you +know, a still more beautiful picture comes to my inward eye, and that is +an old Molly with white hair sitting where you are now, still in the +‘romantic era,’ still in the beech woods; and, God willing, I’ll be +beside you, only,” he whimsically added, “I am afraid I’ll be +bald-headed instead of white-haired!” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII.—ALL KINDS OF WEATHER. + + +The days went dreamily on. Edwin Green lengthened his stay in Kentucky +until he really became touchy on the subject, and one day when some one +spoke of the old Virginia gentleman who came in out of the rain and +stayed six years, he told Mrs. Brown that he felt very like that old +man. She was hospitality itself, and made him understand that he was +more than welcome, and, every time he set a date for his departure, some +form of entertainment was immediately on foot where his presence seemed +both desirable and necessary, and his going away was postponed again. +Once it was a coon hunt with Ernest and John and Lewis, the colored +gardener; once it was a moonlight picnic at a wonderful spot called +Black Rock. + +On that occasion they drove in a hay wagon over a road that was a +disgrace to Kentucky, and then up a dry creek bed until they came to the +great black boulder that stood at least twenty feet in the air; there +they made their temporary camp. Kent confided to Professor Green that +they never dared to come up that creek bed unless they were sure of +clear weather, as it had been known to fill so quickly with a big rain +that it drowned a man and horse. It was innocent enough then, with only +a thin stream of water trickling along the rocks, sometimes forming a +pool where the horses would go in almost to their knees; but, as a rule, +they went dry shod along the bed. It was rough riding, but no one +minded. There was plenty of hay in the wagon for young bones, and Mrs. +Brown, who was chaperoning, had a pillow to sit on and one to lean +against. When they got to the sylvan spot every one agreed it was worth +the bumping they had undergone. + +“Oh, it looks like the Doone Valley,” said Judy. + +And so it did, except that the stream of water was not quite so big as +the one John Ridd had to climb up. + +There were sixteen in the party, which filled the big wagon comfortably +so that no one had room to bounce out. Paul and Ernest had invited two +girls from Louisville, who turned out to be very pleasant and attractive +and in for a good time. The only person who was not very agreeable was +John’s friend, the girl visiting Aunt Clay, a Miss Hunt from Tennessee. +She was fussy and particular and afraid of spoiling her dress, a chiffon +thing, entirely inappropriate for a hay ride. She complained of a +headache, and, besides, as Molly said, “she didn’t sit fair.” That is a +very important thing to do on a hay ride. One person doubling up or +lolling can upset the comfort of a whole wagon load. You must sit with +your feet stretched out, making what quilt makers call “the every other +one pattern.” + +“I am glad she acts this way,” whispered Mrs. Brown to Molly. “I know +now why I can’t abide her. I couldn’t tell before.” + +Miss Hunt’s selfishness did not seem to worry her admirers any. John was +all devotion, as were the two other young men who came along in her +train. They were sorry about her headache and wanted to make room in the +wagon for her to lie down; but Mrs. Brown was firm there and said it was +a pity for her to suffer, but she thought it might injure her back +unless she sat up going over the rough road. That lady had no patience +with the headache, and thought the girl would much better have stayed at +home if she were too ill to sit up. She did not much believe in the +headache, anyhow, and was irritated to see poor Molly with her long legs +doubled up under her trying to make room for the lolling little beauty. + +“She is pretty, no doubt of that,” said Edwin Green to Mrs. Brown, whom +he had elected to sit by and look after for the ride, “as pretty as a +brunette can be. I like a blonde as a rule. But it looks to me as though +Miss Molly is getting the hot end of it, as far as comfort goes.” + +He would have offered to change places with Molly, but had a big reason +for refraining. That was that no other than Jimmy Lufton, Molly’s New +York newspaper friend, was occupying the seat next to Molly, and +Professor Green was determined to do nothing to show his misery at that +young man’s proximity. Jimmy had arrived quite unexpectedly that +afternoon and seemed to be as intimate with the whole Brown family in +two hours as he, Edwin Green, was after weeks of close companionship. He +tried not to feel bitter, and, next to sitting by Molly, he was sure he +would rather sit by her mother than any one in the world, certainly than +anyone in the wagon. + +Jimmy was easily the life of the party. He had a good tenor voice and +knew all the new songs “hot off of the bat” from New York. He told the +funniest stories, and at the same time was so good-natured and kindly +and modest withal that you had to like him. He was not the typical funny +man. Edwin Green felt that he could not have stood Molly’s preferring a +typical funny man to him. She did prefer Jimmy, he felt almost sure, and +now he was trying to steel himself to take his medicine like a man. He +was determined not to whine and not to make Molly unhappy. He had seen +the meeting between Molly and Jimmy, and it was the flood of color that +had suffused Molly’s face and her almost painful agitation that had +convinced him of her regard for that brilliant young journalist. Had he +heard the conversation as well as seen the meeting, he might have been +spared some of his unhappiness. Jimmy had said, “Where’s my lemon?” and +Molly had answered, “Done et up.” + +They piled out of the wagon. John, the woodsman of the crowd, busied +himself making a fire, demanding that the two “extra men” should come +and chop wood, determined that they should not get in too many words +with the beautiful Miss Hunt while he was working. Miss Hunt then +exercised her fascinations on Jimmy Lufton, on whom she had had her eye +ever since they left Chatsworth. Jimmy was polite, but had a +“nothing-doing” expression which quite baffled the practiced flirt. Poor +Molly’s foot had gone so fast asleep that she was forced to hop around +for at least five minutes before she could get out of the wagon and +begin to make herself useful. Kent, who had driven, with Judy on the +front seat with him, was busy taking out the four horses to let them +rest for the heavy pull home. The other young men were occupied in +various ways, lifting the hampers out of the wagon and getting water +from the beautiful spring at the foot of the huge black rock. Professor +Green came to Molly’s assistance. + +“I was afraid your foot would go to sleep. You are too good to let that +girl crowd you so. She was the most deliberately selfish person I ever +saw.” + +“Oh, there is always somebody like that on a hay ride. I have never been +on one yet that there wasn’t some girl along with a headache who took up +more than her share of room. I am too long to double up; but it is all +right now. The tingle has stopped, and I can bear my weight on it, I +see.” + +“Did you ever see anything more beautiful than this valley? How clever +Miss Kean is in hitting off a description! I haven’t thought of the +Doone Valley for years, and now I can’t get it out of my head; these +overhanging cliffs and this green grass, green even by moonlight; and +the sensation of being in an impenetrable fortress! And the great black +rock might be Carver Doone petrified and very much magnified, left here +forever for his sins. It must be a magnificent sight when the creek is +full.” + +“So it is; but I hope we shall not see that sight to-night. Lorna Doone +in the big snow was in a safe place to what we would be in a big freshet +up this valley with no way to get back but by the creek bed,” said +Molly, jumping out of the hay wagon and beginning to make ready the +supper. + +Such a supper it was, with appetites to match after the long ride and +good jolting! Mrs. Brown was an old hand at picnic suppers and knew +exactly what to put in and how to pack the baskets in the most +appetizing way. There were different kinds of sandwiches, thin bread and +butter, all kinds of pickles, apple turnovers and cheese cakes; but the +crowning success of one of these camp picnics was always the hot coffee +and bacon cooked on John’s fire. The Browns kept a skillet and big +coffee pot to use only on such occasions. The cloth was soon spread and +the cold lunch arranged on it, and then in an incredibly short time the +coffee was boiling and the bacon sizzling. + +“Oh, what a smell is this?” said Jimmy Lufton, emerging from behind +Black Rock, where Miss Hunt had been doing her best to captivate him. +(Kent said he bet on Jimmy to give her as good as he got.) “Mark Twain +says, ‘Bacon would improve the flavor of an angel,’ and so it would.” + +“Well, I’m no angel, but I certainly do smell like bacon,” said Molly +with flushed face and rumpled hair as she knelt over the fire with a +long stick turning the luscious morsels. “Sue and Cyrus are responsible +for the coffee and the bacon is my affair.” + +“As Todger’s boy says, ‘Wittles is up,’” called Jimmy to the strolling +couples, who lost no time in hurrying to the feast. Mrs. Brown was +installed at the head of the cloth, but not allowed to wait on any one. +“For once, you shall be a guest at your own table,” said Kent, taking +the coffee pot out of her hands. “Miss Judy, don’t you think we can +serve this?” + +“Mostly cream for me and very little coffee,” drawled Miss Hunt. + +“If you have such a bad headache you had better take it black,” said +Judy, who was aware of that young lady’s selfish behavior on the trip. +“The people who want a great deal of cream will have to wait until the +rest are served, as some of the cream got spilled; and, while there is +enough for reasonable helps, there is not enough for exorbitant +demands.” + +John and the two “extras” offered their shares to the spoiled beauty, +but Judy was adamant. + +“Those sandwiches with olives and mayonnaise are very rich for any one +with a liver,” said Judy later on as Miss Hunt was preparing to help +herself plentifully to the delectable food; “these plain +bread-and-butter ones would be much more wholesome for you, my dear. +What, cheese cakes for any one who is too ill to sit up straight! +Goodness gracious, Miss Hunt, do be careful! Your demise would grieve so +many it is really selfish of you not to take better care of yourself.” + +“You seem to be very much concerned about my health, Miss Kean. I wonder +that you knew I did not feel well; you seemed to be fully occupied on +the journey with Mr. Kent Brown,” snapped Miss Hunt. + +“So I was,” answered Judy, nothing daunted. “But whenever Kent had to +turn his attentions to the four horses when we came to rough spots in +the road and he was trying not to jolt the ambulance too much, then I +could turn around and get a good bird’s-eye view of the passengers, and +you always seemed to be on the point of fainting.” + +“I know you are better now,” said Molly, who could not bear for even +Miss Hunt, who was certainly not her style of girl, to be teased. “I +know these apple turnovers won’t hurt you, and Aunt Mary makes such good +ones. Do have one, and here is some more cream if you want it in your +coffee.” + +“What a sweet girl your sister is,” said Miss Hunt in an audible +whisper. “I can’t see what she finds in that Miss Kean to want her to +make her such an interminable visit.” + +The ill-natured remark was heard by every one. For did you ever notice +that the way to make yourself heard in a crowd of noisy talkers is to +whisper? Molly looked ready for tears, and Kent bit his lips in rage, +but Judy, as spunky as usual, and feeling that she deserved a rebuke +from Miss Hunt, but rather shocked at the ill-bred way of delivering it, +spoke out: “Mrs. Brown, when we were laughing the other day over your +story of the old Virginia gentleman who came in out of the rain and +stayed six years, I had another one to tell, but something happened to +interrupt me. Might I tell it now?” + +Mrs. Brown gave a smiling consent. She was not so tender-hearted as +Molly and, while she felt it a mistake to wrangle, she was rather +curious to see who would get ahead in this trial of wits. + +“I bet my bottom dollar on Miss Judy, don’t you, mother?” said Kent in +an undertone. + +“I certainly do,” whispered his mother. + +“A little Southern girl we knew at college, Madeline Pettit, told in all +seriousness about a neighbor of hers who was invited to go on a visit. +She accepted, but they had to sell the cow for her to go on, and then +she had to prolong her visit for the calf to get big enough for her to +come home on. I am afraid our calf is almost big enough and papa may +come riding in on it any day and carry me off.” There was a general roar +of laughter, and then the picnickers, having eaten all that they +uncomfortably could, made a general movement toward adjournment. + +“Where is the moon?” they all exclaimed at once. While they were eating +and drinking and making themselves generally merry, the proverbial +cloud, no bigger than a man’s hand, had grown and spread and now the +moon was put out of business. The cliffs were so high that a storm had +come up out of the west without any one dreaming of it. + +“This creek can fill in such a hurry when a big rain comes we had better +start,” said Kent. + +“Oh, don’t be such a croaker, Kent. It can’t rain. The sky was as clear +as a bell when we left home,” said Mrs. Brown, as eager as any of the +young people to prolong the good times. + +“All right, mother, just as you think best, but I am going to get the +horses hitched up in case you change your mind.” + +Change her mind she did in a very few minutes, as large drops of rain +began to fall. The crowd came pell-mell and scrambled into the wagon. +Mrs. Brown noticed in the confusion that she had lost her cavalier and +that Professor Green had attached himself to Molly. She was pleased to +see it, as she had felt sorry for the young man. He was evidently so +miserable, and yet at the same time so determined to make himself +agreeable to her that he had been really very charming. She loved to +talk about books, and, as she said, seldom had the chance, for the +people who knew about books and cared for them never seemed to realize +that a busy mother and housekeeper could have similar tastes. + +“I get so tired of swapping recipes for pickles and talking about how to +raise children. Aunt Mary makes the pickle and my children are all +raised,” she had confided to Edwin Green. “We had a very interesting +guest on one occasion, a woman who had done a great many delightful +things and knew many delightful literary people, and I hoped to have a +real good talk with her about books; but she seemed to feel she must +stick to the obvious when she conversed with me. I often laugh when I +think of Aunt Mary’s retort courteous to this same lady. She was +constantly asking me how we made this and what we did to have that so +much better than other people, and I would always refer her to Aunt +Mary. + +“Once it was bread that was under discussion. You know how difficult it +is to get a recipe from a darkey, as they never really know how they do +the things they do best. Aunt Mary told her to the best of her ability +what she did, but the woman was not satisfied. ‘Now, tell me exactly how +many cups of flour you use.’ ‘Why, bless you, we done stop dolin’ out +flour with a cup long ago an’ uses a ole broken pitcher.’ Another time +it was coffee. ‘Now, you have told me about the freshly roasted and +ground coffee, please tell me how much water.’ Aunt Mary gave a scornful +sniff. ‘You mus’ think we are stingy folks ef you think we measure +water!’ At another time she said, ‘Aunt Mary, you must have told me +wrong, because I did exactly what you said and my popovers were complete +failures.’ ‘Laws a mussy, I did fergit to tell you one thing, an’ that +is that you mus’ stir in some gumption wif ev’y aig.’” + + “De rain kep’ a-drappin’ in draps so mighty heavy; + De ribber kep’ a-risin’ an’ bus’ed froo de levvy, + Ring, ring de banjo, how I lub dat good ole song, + Come, come, my true love, oh, whar you been so long?” + +It was Jimmy who broke into this rollicking song, and when all of the +Brown boys, who had had an experience with this old dry creek bed once +on a ’possum hunt, heard him, they felt that the song was singularly +appropriate. They also thanked their stars that they had with them some +one who would “whoop things up” and keep the crowd cheerful, and perhaps +the ladies would not realize the danger they were in. This wet-weather +creek was fed by innumerable small branches, all of them dry now from +something of a drought that had been prevalent, and John, the woodsman, +noticed that before they had much rainfall in the valley those small +branches had begun to flow, showing that there had already been a great +storm to the west of them. + +“If the rain were merely local, old Stony Creek could not do much damage +in itself, but it is the help of all of these wet-weather springs and +branches that makes it play such havoc,” whispered John to Jimmy Lufton. +“I have known it in two hours’ time to rise four feet, which sounds +incredible; and then in two hours more subside two feet, and in a day be +almost dry again. I spent four hours up on top of Black Rock once in a +sudden freshet. I would have scaled the hills, but I had some young dogs +hunting, and they were so panic-stricken and I was so afraid they would +fall down the cliffs in the creek, that I just took them up on top of +the rock; and there we sat huddled up in the driving rain until the +water subsided enough for us to wade home. Swimming is out of the +question for more than a few strokes, the current is so swift; and as +for keeping your feet and walking, you simply can’t do it.” + +“We have a creek up near Lexington that goes on just such unexpected +sprees,” said Jimmy. “It will be a perfectly respectable citizen and +every one will forget its bad behavior, when suddenly it will break +loose and get so full it disgraces itself and brings shame on its family +of branches.” + +By this time the whole crowd was fairly damp, but they made a joke of +it, with the exception of Miss Hunt, who was much irritated at the +damage done her pretty dress. Although she was covered up with three +coats, she clamored for more, but no more were offered her. Professor +Green took off his coat and, folding it carefully, put it under the seat +in the lunch hamper. + +“I fancy you think this is a funny thing to do, but I have seen a wet +crowd almost freeze after a storm like this, and it is a great mistake +to get all of the wraps wet. It is much better to take the rain and get +wet yourself, and keep the coats dry; and then, when the rain is over, +have something warm and comfortable to put on.” + +“That is a fine scheme,” said Paul, and all of the men followed Edwin +Green’s example, and Molly and Judy, who had prudently brought their +college sweaters, did the same. + +“I think it is rather fun to get wet when you have on clothes that won’t +get ruined,” said Judy. + +“I am glad you like it,” answered Miss Hunt, still sore over her bout +with Judy, “but I must say it is hard on me with this chiffon dress. +What will it look like after this?” + +“Well, you know, chiffon is French for rag so I fancy it will look like +a Paris creation,” called back Judy from the front seat, where she was +still installed by Kent. “I’ll bet anything her hair will come out of +curl,” she whispered to her companion, “and I should not be astonished +to see some of her beauty wash off.” + +“Eany, meany,” laughed Kent. “You are already way ahead of her, Miss +Judy. Do leave her her hair and complexion.” + +“Well, I’ll try to be good,” said penitent Judy. “You and Molly are so +alike, it is right amusing. And the worst of it is your goodness rubs +off on everybody you come in contact with. Do you realize I have been in +Kentucky for weeks and that Miss Hunt is the first person I have had a +scrap with, and so far I have not got myself in a single ‘Julia Kean’ +scrape? I have been in so many, that the girls at college have named the +particular kind of scrape I get in after me, just as though I were a +famous physician who had discovered a disease.” + +“Just what kind of scrape do you usually get in?” + +“The kind of scrape I get in is always one I can get out of, and usually +one that I fall in from not looking ahead enough at the consequences.” + +“Well, I pray God that this will be a ‘Julia Kean’ scrape we are in +to-night. Certainly, lack of foresight got us in. I’d like to get that +weather man and throw him in this creek. ‘Generally fair and variable +winds,’ much!” said Kent with such a serious expression that Judy began +to realize that this was not simply a case of a good wetting, but might +mean something more. + +The horses were knee deep in water now, but splashing bravely on. Molly +noticed that in hitching up for the homeward trip Kent had put President +in the lead. + +“That is because old President has so much sense and will know how to +pick his way and keep his feet when the other horses would get scared +and begin to struggle and pull down the whole team,” said Molly to +Professor Green. Molly was fully aware of the danger they were in, but +was keeping her knowledge to herself for fear of starting a panic among +the girls. “There is no real danger of drowning,” she whispered to her +companion, “so long as we stay in the wagon. But the banks are so steep +that if we should get out we might slip into the creek and then it would +be about impossible to keep our feet. Look at the water now, up to the +hubs of the wheels! I am sorry for the horses, and what an awful +responsibility for Kent! But he is equal to it. Do you know, I really +believe Kent is equal to anything!” + +It was, of course, pitch dark now, except for frequent flashes of +lightning that illuminated the raging torrents, so all were forced to +realize the grave situation. + +“The horses are behaving wonderfully well, and so far all the passengers +are. I hope it will keep up,” muttered Kent. “It is awfully hard to keep +your head when you are driving if any one screams.” + +“The water is in the wagon bed now. I can tell by my feet. Don’t you +think your mother ought to come on the front seat, where she can be out +of it somewhat?” suggested Judy. + +“You are right. Mother, come on up here and help me drive. There is +plenty of room for three of us, and I believe you would be more +comfortable.” + +Mrs. Brown got up, glad to change her position. She was more frightened +than she cared to own, and was anxious to find out just how Kent felt +about the matter. + +“I am going on the front seat, too,” said the bedraggled Miss Hunt. “It +seems to me Miss Julia Kean has had the best of everything long enough. +I see no reason why she should sit high and dry during the whole drive, +while here I am absolutely and actually sitting in the water.” + +Kent bit his lips in fury, but held his horses and his tongue while the +change was being made. Judy showed her breeding in a way that made Molly +proud. + +“High I may be, but not dry,” said Judy, playfully shaking herself on +the already drenched Molly as she sank by her side on the soggy hay. “I +am going to see how long our fair friend will stay up there. It is +really the scariest place I ever got in. Down here you feel the water +without seeing it, but up there every flash of lightning reveals terrors +that down here are undreamed of.” + +“Sit in the middle, mother, and Miss Hunt and I can take better care of +you.” + +“Oh, I am afraid to sit on the outside! Mrs. Brown is much larger than I +am and could hold me in better than I could her,” said the selfish girl. + +She squeezed in between mother and son, as Kent said afterward, taking +up more room then any little person that he ever saw. + + “Noah he did build an ark, one wide river to cross. + Built it out of hickory bark, one wide river to cross. + One wide river, and that wide river was Jordan, + One wide river, and that wide river to cross.” + +“All join in the chorus,” demanded Jimmy. + +There were many verses to the time-honored song, and before they got all +the animals in the ark the moon suddenly came out from behind a very +black cloud, and the rain was over, but not the flood. + +“It took many days and nights for the water to subside for old Noah, and +we may expect the same delay in our case,” said the happy and +irrepressible Jimmy. + +Kent was glad indeed for the light of the moon. He had really had to +leave it to President to take the proper road, or, rather, channel. That +brave old horse had gone sturdily on, and, when one of the younger +horses had begun to struggle and pull back, he had turned solemnly +around and given him a soft little bite. + +“Mother, did you see that? And look at that off horse now! I bet he will +behave after this.” + +Sure enough, the admonished animal was pulling as steadily as President +himself, and they had no more trouble with him. + +There were many large holes in the creek bed, and, of course, the wheels +often went into them. Once it looked for a moment as though they might +have a turnover to add to their disasters. The wagon toppled, but +righted itself in a moment. Miss Hunt, as Judy had said, on the front +seat was able to see the danger as she could not down in the wagon, and +when the wheels went down that particularly deep hole she let out a +piercing scream and tried to seize the reins from Kent. + +Kent pulled up his horses as soon as the wagon was on a level and called +to John, “John, will you please help Miss Hunt back into the seat she +has just vacated? She finds she is not comfortable here.” + +At that Miss Hunt very humbly crawled back, and, like the Heathen +Chinee, “subsequent proceedings interested her no more.” + +As dawn was breaking they drove into the avenue at Chatsworth, not +really very much the worse for wear. The warm, dry wraps produced from +under the seat after the moon came out had been wonderfully comforting. +Edwin Green had made Mrs. Brown take his coat, and as he folded it +around her he had whispered, “Kentucky women are very remarkable. They +meet danger as though it were a partner at a ball.” + +“Yes,” said Kent, who had overheard him, “I could never have come +through the deep waters if it had not been for the brave women. You saw +how the one scream unnerved me, to say nothing of that little vixen +grabbing my reins. Here, Ernest, we are on the pike at last, and I am +just about all in. I wouldn’t give up until we got through, but take the +reins. Maybe Miss Hunt would like to drive,” he had slyly added, but a +low moan from under the wet coats was all the proud beauty could utter. + +Aunt Mary greeted them at Chatsworth with much delight. + +“The sto’m here been somethin’ turrible. I ain’t seed sich a wind sence +the chilluns’ castle blowed down. All of yer had better come back to the +kitchen whar it’s warm and eat somethin’. I got a big pot er hot coffee +and pitchers er hot milk an’ a pan er quick yeast biscuit. I done notice +ef you eat somethin’ when you is cold an’ wet, somehow you fergits ter +catch cold.” + +They all came trooping back to the warm old kitchen, “ev’y spot in it as +clean as a bisc’it board,” and there they ate the hot buttered biscuit +and drank the coffee and milk. It was noticed that John let the “extras” +take care of Miss Hunt, and he devoted himself to his mother. Just as +they were separating for the morning he hugged his mother and whispered +to her, “You need not have any more uneasiness about me, mumsy. I don’t +believe there is a Brown living who could go on loving a woman who has +no more sense than to grab the reins.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX.—JIMMY. + + +“Judy, Mrs. Woodsmall has just ‘phoned over that her hated R. F. D. +Woodsmall is bringing you a letter from your father. She says she could +only make out it was from him, but could not decipher anything else. She +has an idea he is on his way, as the postmark showed it was mailed on +the train somewhere in Kansas. Isn’t she too funny? She makes some of +the neighbors furious, but we always laugh at her little idiosyncrasy. +After all, it is perfectly harmless. She really is as kind a little soul +as there is in the county. Her life has been so narrow. If she could +have been a real worker in a big city she might have grown into a very +remarkable person. What a detective she would have made!” + +Judy yawned and stretched and sat up as Molly came in bearing a tray of +lunch for her tired friend as well as the news of a letter from Mr. +Kean, somewhere on the road, and to be delivered some time that day if +Bud Woodsmall’s automobile behaved. + +“Oh, Molly, I am tired! Are you the only one of the crowd to be up and +doing after last night?” + +“I have persuaded mother to stay in bed and get a good rest. The boys +took a late train into town, and Miss Hunt never did go to bed. Aunt +Mary said she came down early this morning and ’phoned over to Aunt +Clay’s coachman to come for her immediately, and off she went without +saying ‘boo to a goose.’ I wish you could have heard Aunt Mary’s +description of her! + +“‘Yo’ Aunt Clay’s comp’ny sho ain’t no wet weather beauty. Her ha’r was +so flat her haid looked jes’ like a buckeye; and her dress ‘min’ me of a +las’ year’s crow’s nes’. She was so shamefaced like she resem’led that +ole peacock when Shep done pull out his tail.’” + +Judy laughed. “Oh, I do love Aunt Mary! But, Molly, won’t it be fine to +see mamma and papa? Do you suppose they are really on their way?” + +“It will be fine to see them, but it will be pretty sad to have them +take off my Judy. I am mighty afraid that is what they are going to do. +Go back to sleep now and I will bring you your letter as soon as Bud +puts in his appearance. I am going to have a hard game of tennis with +Jimmy Lufton against Ernest and that nice Miss Rogers. Weren’t those +girls spunky last night? An experience like that will make you know +people better than years of plain, everyday life. Professor Green has +struck up quite an acquaintance with Miss Ormsby. It seems they have +many mutual friends, both of them having summered many times at +‘Sconset.’” + +Molly spoke quietly, but there was a slight tremor of lip and a +deepening of color that the sharp Judy saw and noted, but nothing would +have made her let Molly know that she had betrayed herself in the least. + +“Molly was perfectly unconscious of what she was doing last night,” +thought Judy, “but all the same she was making poor Professor Green live +up to his name with jealousy. I don’t know but it might make Molly open +her childlike old eyes if the patient professor should kick up his staid +heels and jump the fence and go grazing in another paddock for a while.” +And then aloud she said, “All right, honey, I’ll take forty winks and +then get up and come down to the tennis court.” + +Mr. Kean’s letter arrived in due time and, sure enough, Mrs. Woodsmall’s +surmises were correct. He was on the way to Kentucky with Mrs. Kean, and +expected to be in Louisville the next day at a hotel, and would motor +out to Chatsworth in the afternoon. + +“Your father and mother must not think of stopping at a hotel, Judy,” +declared Mrs. Brown. “We have an abundance of room. Miss Rogers and Miss +Ormsby are going in town after supper to-night with Ernest and Professor +Green. Mr. Lufton expects to go back to Lexington to-morrow, and +Professor Green is only waiting for some mail and will take his +departure, too. We shall be forlorn, indeed, when all of them go. I’ll +make Kent look up what train Mr. Kean will come in on and he will meet +it and send them both right out here.” + +“Oh, Mrs. Brown, you are so good. I would love for mamma and papa to be +here and to know all of you and have you know them. They are as +wonderful in their way as you are in yours, and your meeting would be a +grand combination.” + +Molly rather dreaded the coming of evening. She had promised Jimmy to +take a walk with him by moonlight, and she had a terrible feeling that +he might bring up the subject of “lemons” again. She was not prepared +for the question that she felt almost sure he was going to ask her. + +“I am nothing but a kid, after all,” moaned Molly to herself. “Professor +Green was right in calling me ‘dear child.’ Mother was married when she +was my age, but somehow I can’t seem to grow up. Jimmy is so nice, and I +do like him so much, but as for spending the rest of my life with +him—oh, I just simply can’t contemplate it. Why, why doesn’t he see how +it is without having to talk it over? I wish none of them would ever get +sentimental over me.” And then she blushed and told herself that she was +a big story teller and sentimentality from some one who should be +nameless would not be so trying, after all. + +Supper was over, Professor Green and Ernest had gone gaily off, driving +Miss Rogers and Miss Ormsby to Louisville, Judy and Kent were making a +long-talked-of duty call on Aunt Clay, “just to show Miss Hunt there is +no hard feeling,” laughed Judy. And now it was time to take the promised +walk with Jimmy Lufton. + +“You look a little tired, Miss Molly. Maybe you would rather not go. You +must not let me bore you,” said Jimmy, a little wistfully. + +“Oh, no, I’m all right. I fancy it will take all of us a few days to get +over last night. I have wanted to tell you how fine you were and what it +meant to all of us to have you so cheerful and tactful. The boys can’t +say enough in your praise. We had to have some safety valve, and if we +had not been laughing we might have been crying.” + +“Oh, I’m a cheerful idiot, all right, all right. I have such a short +upper lip and such an eternal grin on me that no one ever seems to think +I have any feelings. I get no more sympathy than a fat man. I wish I +could make people understand that I am as serious as the next, but +somehow me Irish grandmither comes popping out in me and I have to joke +if I am to die the next minute.” + +“I think your disposition is most enviable,” said Molly kindly, “and, as +for the dash of Irish, I always think that is what makes our mother so +charming. It was almost a fad with our professor of English at college +to find the Irish mother or grandmother for almost all of the great +poets or essayists.” Molly could not quite trust herself to say +Professor Green’s name, the picture of the seemingly ecstatic Edwin +driving off with Miss Ormsby was too fresh in her mind, and she could +not help smiling at herself for her formal “our professor of English.” + +Their footsteps led them into the garden and then through the apple +orchard down by the little stream, and on to the beech woods. + +“I wonder why we are coming this way,” thought Molly, trying to keep her +mind off another walk she had taken over that same ground not so long +ago. + +“Let’s sit down here,” said Jimmy, stopping under the great beech tree +where Molly and Edwin had sat on that memorable day when he had spoken +of his vision of the white-haired Molly, and then had stopped himself so +suddenly with a joke about his own possible baldness. + +“Oh, not right here,” said Molly hurriedly. “I know a nice rock a little +farther on.” + +“Molly, Miss Molly, Miss Brown!——Oh, Molly, darling, there is no use in +going any farther because I know you know that I have brought you out +here to tell you that I——” + +“Jimmy, please don’t say anything more. It ’most kills me to hurt you.” + +“Is there no hope for me? I’ll wait a week, oh, I don’t mean a week, +I’ll wait forever if there is a chance for me. I know this is a low +question to ask you, but is there any one else?” + +Honest Molly hung her head. “Not exactly.” + +That “not exactly” was enough for Jimmy. He smiled a wan little smile +that would have put his Irish grandmother to shame. + +“Well, don’t you mind, Miss Molly. I wouldn’t have you feel blue about +me for a million. You never did lead me on one little bit, and I was +almost sure when I came to Kentucky that there would be nothing doing +for yours truly; but somehow men are made so they have to make sure +about such things. You and I have too much sense of the ridiculous to do +any spiel about the brother and sister business, but I’ll tell you one +thing, I am your friend forever, and you must know that, and understand +that as long as I live I’ll hold myself in readiness to do your +bidding.” + +“Oh, Jimmy, you are so good and generous,” holding out her hand to him, +“I am your friend forever, and I hope we shall always see a lot of each +other.” + +Jimmy took her hand and for a moment bowed his curly black head over it. +Molly put her other hand on his head, feeling somehow that it was like +comforting Kent. + +“You are sure, Molly?” + +“Yes, Jimmy.” + +“Well, le’s go home. I know you are tired. + + “‘If no one ever marries me + I sha’n’t mind very much; + I shall buy a squirrel in a cage, + And a little rabbit-hutch,’” + +sang the irrepressible. + +When Judy got back to Chatsworth she found Molly weeping her soul out on +the pillow, and she had noticed as they passed the office porch that for +once Jimmy Lufton was whistling in the minor. + + + + +CHAPTER X.—AUNT CLAY MAKES A MISTAKE. + + +“Sister Ann, do you see any dust arising?” called Molly to Judy, who had +actually climbed up on the gate post, hoping to see a little farther up +the road, expecting the automobile from Louisville with her beloveds in +it. + +“I see a little cloud and I hear a little buzzing. Oh, Molly, I believe +it’s them.” + +“Is it, oh, Wellington graduate? Get your cases straight before they +come or your father will think that diploma is a fake.” + +“Grammar go hang,” said Judy, performing a dangerous pas seul on the +gate post and then jumping lightly down and racing up the avenue to meet +the incoming automobile. Molly followed more slowly, never having been +the sprinter that Judy was. Mr. Kean sprang from the car and lifted Judy +off her feet in a regular bear hug. + +“Save a little for me, Bobby,” piped the little lady mother. “Judy, +Judy, it is too good to be true that we have got you at last, and I mean +to keep you forever now, you slippery thing.” And then they all of them +got into the car and had a three-cornered hug. Molly came up with only +enough breath to give them a cordial greeting, welcoming them to +Chatsworth. + +“That is a very fine young man, your brother, who met us at the station, +Miss Molly. Kent is his name? He recognized us by my likeness to you, +Judy, so make your best bow and look pleased.” In looking pleased, Judy +did a great deal of unnecessary blushing which her mother noticed, but, +mothers being different from fathers, said nothing about it. + +Mrs. Brown came hurrying down the walk to meet her guests. She was +amused to see how much Judy resembled both her parents, although Mrs. +Kean was so small and Mr. Kean so large. Mother and daughter were alike +in their quick, extravagant speech, and a certain bird-like poise of the +head, but father and daughter had eyes that might have been cut out of +the same piece of gray and by the same pattern. + +“Where is your baggage? Surely Kent gave you my message and you are +going to visit us?” + +“You have been so kind to my girl that I see no way but to let you be +kind to us, too, and if we will not inconvenience you we will accept +your invitation,” said Mr. Kean. “As for baggage: Mrs. Kean is a dressy +soul, but she only carries a doll trunk which holds all of her little +frocks and fixings and even leaves a tiny tray for my belongings.” + +He assisted his smiling wife to alight and then from the bottom of the +car produced a wicker trunk that was really no bigger than a large +suitcase, but much more dignified looking. + +“She says a trunk gives her a little more permanent feeling than a bag +and makes a hotel room seem more homelike,” went on Mr. Kean. Mrs. Brown +thought that she had never heard such a pleasant voice and jolly laugh. + +“Judy, show your mother and father their room. I know they are tired and +will want to rest before dinner.” + +“Tired! Bless your soul, what have we done to be tired? We have been on +a Pullman four nights, and that is when we get in rest enough for months +to come. I know Julia will want to get at her doll trunk and change her +traveling dress, but, if you will permit me, I shall stay down here with +you. What a beautiful farm you have! How many acres in it?” + +“I have three hundred acres in all; two hundred under cultivation and in +grass, fifty in woodland, and fifty that are not worth anything. It is a +strange barren strip of land that my father had to take as a bad debt +and I inherited from him. We graze some forlorn sheep on it, but they +won’t drink the water, and it is almost more trouble than they are worth +to drive them to water on another part of the place.” + +Mr. Kean listened intently. “I should like to see your farm, Mrs. Brown. +Did you ever have the water on the barren strip analyzed?” + +“No, Mr. Brown thought of looking into it but never did, and I have had +so many problems to solve and expenses to meet with my large and growing +family that I have never thought of it any more.” + +Mrs. Kean and Judy came down to join the others in a very short time, +considering that Mrs. Kean had unpacked her tiny trunk and shaken out +her little frocks and changed into a dainty pink gingham that looked as +though it had just come from the laundry, showing no signs of having +been packed for weeks. + +“What have you done to my Judy, Mrs. Brown? I have never seen her +looking so well.” + +“Fried chicken and candied sweet potatoes are the chief of my diet, and +who would have the ingratitude not to show such keep?” laughed the +daughter, pulling the little mother down on her lap and holding her as +tenderly as though their relationship were reversed. “Robert and Julia, +are you aware of the fact that your lady daughter has been a perfect +lady since she came to these parts, and has got herself into no bad +scrapes, and has not been saucy but once, and that was necessary? Wasn’t +it, Mrs. Brown?” + +“It certainly was. My old mammy used to tell me, ‘Don’ sass ole folks +‘til they fust sass you’; and Saint Paul says, ‘Live peaceably with all +men, as much as lieth in you.’ When Judy felt called upon to speak out +to Miss Hunt she had the gratitude of almost every one present.” + +Professor Green joined them and, having made the Keans’ acquaintance at +Wellington, introductions were not necessary. That young man was in a +very happy frame of mind as his hated rival that he had to like in spite +of himself had taken an early train to Lexington; and there had been a +dejected look to his back as he got into the buggy that Edwin Green +decided could not belong to an accepted lover. Molly had a soft, sad +look about her blue eyes, but certainly none of the elation of the newly +engaged. He had held a cryptic conversation with Mrs. Brown that morning +on the porch, in which he had gathered that the dear lady considered +Molly singularly undeveloped for a girl her age; that any thought of her +becoming engaged for at least a year was very distasteful to her mother; +that her mind should be left free for the postgraduate course she was so +soon to enter upon. But she very delicately gave him to understand that +she liked him and that Molly also liked him more than any friend she +had. The conversation left him slightly dazed, but also very calm and +happy, liking Mrs. Brown even better than before and admiring her for +her delicate tact and frankness that does not often combine with such +diplomacy. His mail had come and he had no excuse for further delay, and +had determined to go home on the following day. + +“Professor Green, I have been so long on the train that I feel the need +of stretching my legs. Could you tear yourself away from these ladies +long enough to show me around the farm?” + +“Indeed, I could; but maybe the ladies would like to come.” + +“No, indeed,” answered Mrs. Kean. “I know Bobbie’s leg-stretching walks +too well to have any desire to try to keep up with him. It is so +pleasant and restful here, and Mrs. Brown, Molly, Judy and I can have a +nice talk.” + +The two gentlemen started off at a good pace. + +“Professor, I should like to see this barren strip of land Mrs. Brown +tells me of. It sounds rather interesting to me. You know where it is, +do you not?” + +“Yes; and, do you know, I was going to ask you to look at it and give +your opinion about it. It has the look to me of possible oil fields. I +haven’t said anything to any of the family about it, as they are such a +sanguine lot I was afraid of raising their hopes when nothing might come +of it, but I had determined to have a talk with Kent before I left. He +is the most level-headed member of the family, and would not fly off +half-cocked. Miss Molly tells me they are contemplating selling this +wonderful bit of beech woods. They have a good offer for it, but it is +like selling members of the family to part with these trees.” + +The two men walked on, discovering many things to talk about and finding +each other vastly agreeable. Their walk led them through the beech +woods, then through a growth of scrub pines and stunted oaks and +blackberry bushes, until they gradually emerged into a hard stony valley +sparsely covered with grass and broomsedge. + +“About as forlorn a spot as you can find in the whole of Kentucky, I +fancy,” said the younger man. “Its contrast with the beech woods we have +just passed is about as great as that between Mrs. Brown and her sister, +Mrs. Clay, who, with all due respect, is as rocky as this strip of +barren land and as unattractive. She is the only person of whom I have +ever heard Miss Molly and her brother Kent say anything unkind, and they +cannot conceal their feeling against her. It seems that Mrs. Clay had +the settling of her father’s estate, and arranged matters so well for +herself that Mrs. Brown’s share turned out to be this stony strip. Mrs. +Brown accepted it and refused to make a row, declaring that she would +never have a disagreement with any member of her family about ‘things.’ +She is a wonderful woman,” added the professor, thinking of his talk of +the morning. + +Mr. Kean stopped at the banks of a lonesome tarn, filled with black +water with a greasy looking slime over it. + +“Look at those bubbles over there! Could they be caused by turtles? No, +turtles could not live in this Dead Sea. Look, look! More and more of +them. Watch that big one break! See the greasy ring he made!” + +He was so excited that Edwin Green smiled to see how alike father and +daughter were, and was amused at himself for speaking of the Browns as +being people who went off half-cocked to this man who was a hair trigger +if ever there was one. + +Mr. Kean stooped over and scooped up some of the water in his hand. “‘If +my old nose don’t tell no lies, seems like I smell custard pies.’ Why, +Green, smell this! It’s simply reeking of petroleum! I bet that old Mrs. +Clay will come to wish she had made a different division of her father’s +estate. Come on, let’s go break the news to the Browns.” + +“But are you certain enough? They may be disappointed,” said the more +cautious Edwin. + +“I am sure enough to want to send to Louisville immediately for a drill +to test it. I have had a lot of experience with oil in various places +and I am a regular oil wizard. You have heard of a water witch? My +friends say that my nose has never played me false, and I can smell out +oil lands that they would buy on the say-so of my scent as quickly as +with the proof of a drill and pump. My, I’m glad for this good luck to +come to these people who have been so good to my little girl.” + +The two men were very much excited as they made their way back to the +house. + +“It is funny the way oil crops up in unexpected places,” said Mr. Kean. +“There is very little of it in this belt, and for that reason Mrs. Brown +should get a very good price for her land. I think it best for her to +sell to the Trust as soon as possible. There is no use in fighting them. +They are obliged to win out. They will be pretty square with her if she +does not try to fight them. What a fine young fellow that Kent is! And +as for Miss Molly, she is a corker! She has got my poor little wild +Indian of a Judy out of dozens of scrapes at college. Judy always ends +by telling us all about the terrible things that almost happened to her. +She seems to me to be a little tamer, but maybe it is a strangeness from +not seeing us for so long.” + +Edwin Green had his own opinion about the reason for that seeming +tameness, but he held his peace. He could not help seeing Kent’s +partiality for Miss Julia Kean, and had no reason to believe otherwise +than that the young lady reciprocated. Love, or the possibility of +loving, might be a great tamer for Judy. He was really not far from the +mark. Judy was interested in Kent, very much so, but it was ambition +that was steadying her and a determination to do something with the +artistic talent that she was almost sure she possessed. Paris was her +Mecca, and she was preparing herself to talk it out with her parents. +They, poor grown-up children that they were, had no plans for their +daughter’s future. College had solved the problem for four years, but, +now that that was over, what to do with her next? They loved to have her +with them and had looked forward eagerly to the time when she could be +with them, but after all was a railway camp the best place for a girl of +Judy’s stamp? + +“Mrs. Brown, what will you take for that barren strip of land over +there?” said Mr. Kean, sinking into a chair on the porch where the +ladies were still having their quiet talk. + +“Well, Mr. Kean, since it is not worth anything, and I have to pay taxes +on it, I think I would give it away to any one who would promise to keep +up the fences.” + +“Can you get right-of-way through the adjoining place to the road behind +you, where I see that a narrow-gauge railroad runs?” + +Mrs. Brown flushed and hesitated. “There is a lane connecting these two +turnpikes older than the turnpikes themselves. My place does not go +through to this narrow-gauge railroad that you saw this morning, but my +father’s old place, the Carmichael farm, now owned by my sister, Mrs. +Clay, borders on both roads. This lane divides the two places as far as +mine goes and then cuts through her place to the road behind. She has +lately closed that lane, fenced it off and put it in corn.” + +“Rather high-handed proceedings,” growled Mr. Kean. “Did you protest?” + +“The boys went to see her about it, as it blocks their short cut to the +Ohio River, where they go swimming, but she was so insulted at what she +called their interference that I insisted upon their letting the matter +drop. Paul, who always has insisted on his rights, went so far as to see +a lawyer about it. His opinion was that Sister Sarah had no more right +to fence off that lane than she would have to build a house in the +middle of Main Street. But, if you knew my Sister Sarah, you would +understand that if she decided to build a house in the middle of Main +Street she would do it.” + +“Perhaps she would if the Law were as ladylike as you are, Mrs. Brown,” +laughed Mr. Kean, “but the Law happens to be not even much of a +gentleman. What I wanted to get at was whether or not you had +right-of-way, not way. You have the right if not the way. Now I am going +to come to business with you. Did you know, my dear lady, that that +despised strip of land is worth more than all of your fruitful acres put +together, beech woods and apple orchard thrown in?” He jumped up from +his chair, able to contain himself no longer, and in clarion tones +literally shouted, “Lady, lady, you’ve struck oil, you’ve struck oil!” + + + + + BOOK II. + + + + +CHAPTER I.—WELLINGTON AGAIN. + + +“Wellington! Wellington!” + +Molly waked from her reverie with a start. It seemed only yesterday that +she was coming to Wellington for the first time, “a greeny from +Greenville, Green County,” as she had been scornfully designated by a +superior sophomore. She could vividly recall her arrival, a poor, tired, +timid little girl in a shabby brown dress, with soot on her face and +seemingly not a friend on earth. She smiled when she thought of how many +friends she had made that first day, friends who had really stuck. First +of all there had been dear old Nance Oldham; then Mary Stewart, who had +taken her under her wing and looked after her like a veritable anxious +hen-mother during the whole of her freshman year; then the vivid, +scintillating Julia Kean, her own Judy; then Professor Green, who +certainly had proved a friend. On looking back, it seemed that every one +with whom she had come in contact on that day had done something nice +for her and tried to help her. Mother had always told her that friends +were already made for persons who really wanted them, made and ready +with hands outstretched, and all you had to do was reach out and find +your friend. + +Now, as before, the trainload of girls piled out at the pretty, trim +little station, and there was dear old Mr. Murphy ready to look after +the baggage, no easy job, as he declared, there being as many different +kinds of trunks as there were young ladies. Molly shook his hand warmly, +for, after all, he was really the very first friend she had made at +Wellington. Her trunk being shabby had had no effect on his manner to +her as a Freshman, but he noticed now that she had a new one and +remarked on its elegance. + +“I simply had to have a new one, Mr. Murphy, ‘the good old wagon done +broke down.’ It was old when I started in at Wellington, and four round +trips have done for it.” + +Next to Molly’s big new trunk,—and this time it was a big one, as she +had some new clothes and enough of them for about the first time in her +life, and had bought a trunk with plenty of trays so as to pack them +properly,—and snuggled up close to it as though for protection, was the +strangest little trunk Molly had ever seen: calf-skin with the hair on +it, spotted red and white, a little moth eaten in spots, with wrought +iron hinges and a lock of great strength but of a simple, fine +design—oak leaves with the key hole shaped like an acorn. A rope was +tied tightly around it, reminding Molly of a halter dragging the poor +little calf to slaughter. + +“Well, well, I haven’t seen such a trunk as this since I left the ould +counthry,” said the baggage master, putting his hand fondly on the +strange-looking trunk. “I’ll bet the owner of this, Miss Molly, will +have many a knock from some of the high-falutin’ young ladies of +Wellington. They haven’t seen it yet, because it is hiding behind your +grand new big one. I pray the Blessed Virgin that the poor little maid +will find a strong friend to get behind and to look after her.” + +Molly smiled at the old man’s imagery, and thought, “What a race the +Irish are! I am glad I have some of their blood.” + +She turned at the sound of laughter and saw coming toward her as strange +a figure as Wellington Station had ever sheltered, she was sure. A tall +girl of about twenty years was approaching, dressed in a stiff blue +homespun dress with a very wide gathered skirt and a tight basque (about +the fashion of the early eighties), and a cheap sailor hat. In her hand +she carried a bundle done up in a large, flowered, knotted handkerchief. +Her hair was black and straight and coming down, but when your eyes once +got to her face her clothes paled into insignificance, and Molly, for +one, never gave them another thought. Imagine the oval of a Holbein +Madonna; a clear olive skin; hazel eyes wide and dreamy; a broad low +forehead with strongly marked brows; a nose of unusual beauty (there are +so few beautiful noses in real life); and a determined mouth with a “do +or die” expression. She came down the platform, head well up and an easy +swinging walk, no more regarding the amused titter of the crowd of +girls, separating to let her pass, than a St. Bernard dog would have +noticed the yap of some toy poodles. On espying her trunk—of course it +was hers, the little hair trunk with the wrought iron hinges and +lock—she quickened her gait, as though to meet a friend, stooped over, +picked it up, and swung it to her broad fine shoulder, more as though it +had been a kitten than a calf. Turning to the astonished Molly, she said +in a voice so sweet and full that it suggested the low notes of a +‘cello, “Kin you’uns tell me’uns whar—no, no, I mean—can you tell me +where I can find the president?” + +“Indeed, I can,” answered Molly. “I am going to see her myself just as +soon as I get settled in my quarters in the Quadrangle, and if you will +tell me where you are to be I will take you to your room and then come +for you to go and see President Walker. Mr. Murphy, the baggage master, +will attend to your trunk. You will see to this young lady’s trunk soon, +won’t you, Mr. Murphy?” + +“The Saints be praised for answering the prayers of an ould man in such +a hurry! Of course I will, Miss Molly; and where shall I be after +sinding the little trunk, miss?” + +“I don’t know until I see the president. I think I’ll just keep my box +with me. I can carry it myself. ’Tain’t much to tote.” + +“Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that,” said Molly, hardly able to keep back the +laugh that she was afraid would come bubbling out in spite of her. “I +tell you what you do: let Mr. Murphy keep your trunk until you find out +where your room is to be, and in the meantime you come to my place; then +as soon as you are located we can ‘phone for it.” The girl looked at her +new-found friend with eyes for all the world like a trusting collie’s, +and silently followed her to the ’bus. + +“My name is Molly Brown, of Kentucky. Please tell me yours.” + +“Kaintucky? Oh, I might have known it. I am Melissa Hathaway, and am +pleased to make your acquaintance, Molly Brown of Kaintucky. I come from +near Catlettsburg, Kaintucky, myself.” + +“Well, we are from the same state and must be friends, mustn’t we?” + +There were many curious glances cast at Molly’s new friend, but the +giggling at her strange clothes had stopped and the spell of her +countenance had in a measure taken hold of the girls. Molly spoke to +many friends, but she missed her intimates and wondered where Nance was, +and if any of the others were coming back for the postgraduate course. +At the thought of Nance she smiled, knowing just how she would take her +befriending this mountain girl. She would be cold at first and perhaps a +bit scornful in her ladylike way, and end by being as good as gold to +her, and perhaps even making her some proper clothes. + +The door at No. 5 Quadrangle was ajar and Molly could see Nance flitting +back and forth getting things to rights. What a busy soul she was and +how good it was to know she was already there! The girls were soon +locked in each other’s arms, so overjoyed to be together again that +Molly for a moment forgot her guest; and Nance did not see her as she +stood in the doorway, a silent witness to the enthusiastic meeting of +the chums. + +“Oh, Melissa, what am I thinking of, leaving you standing there so long? +You must excuse me. Nance Oldham and I always behave this way when we +get back in the fall; and now I want to introduce you two. Miss Oldham, +this is my new friend, Miss Hathaway, also of Kentucky.” + +Nance shook hands with the quaint-looking new friend and awaited an +explanation, which she knew would be forthcoming from Molly as soon as +she could get a chance. Melissa was quiet and composed, taking in +everything in the room. Her eyes lingered hungrily on the books that +Nance had already arranged on the shelves, and then rested in a kind of +trance on the pictures that Nance had unpacked and hung. + +“Nance, I have some biscuit and fudge in my grip, if you could scare up +some tea. I am awfully hungry, and I fancy Miss Hathaway could eat a +little something before we go to look up the president. She does not +know where her room is to be, and I asked her to come with us until she +is located.” + +“You are very kind to me, and your treating me so well makes me feel as +though I were back in the mountains. We-uns—I mean we always try to be +good to strangers, back where I come from.” + +Nance was drawn to the girl as Molly had been. + +“She knows how to sit still, and waits until she has something to say +before she says anything,” thought the analytical Nance. “I believe I am +going to like Molly’s ‘lame duck’ this time; and, goodness me, how +beautiful she is!” + +Melissa was glad to get her tea, having been in a day coach all night +with nothing but a cold lunch to keep body and soul together until she +got to Wellington. Nance noticed that she knew how to hold her cup +properly and ate like a lady; her English, too, was good as a rule, with +occasional lapses into the mountain vernacular. The girls were curious +about her, but did not like to question her, and she said nothing about +herself. + +Tea over, they went to call on the president, leaving Nance to go on +with her “feminine touches,” as Judy used to call her arrangements. + +Miss Walker was very glad to see Molly, kissing her fondly and calling +her “Molly.” “It is good, indeed, to have you back. Every Wellington +girl who comes back for the postgraduate course gives me a compliment +better than a gift of jewels. And this is Miss Melissa Hathaway? I have +been expecting you, and to think that you should have fallen to the care +of Molly Brown on your very first day at college! You are to be +congratulated, Miss Hathaway. Molly Brown’s friendship keeps one from +all harm, like the kiss of a good fairy on one’s brow. Molly, if you +will excuse me, I shall take Miss Hathaway into my office first and have +a talk with her and shall see you later.” + +Molly was blushing with pleasure over the praise from Prexy, and was +glad to sit in the quiet room awaiting her turn. + +Melissa was closeted for some time with the president, and in the +meantime the waiting-room began to fill with students, some of them +newcomers tremblingly awaiting the ordeal of an interview with the +august head of Wellington; others, like Molly, looking forward with +pleasure to a chat with an old friend. Melissa came back alone with a +message for Molly to come in to Miss Walker, and told her that she was +to wait, as the president wished Molly to show the stranger her room. + +“Molly Brown, how did you happen to be the one to look after this girl? +It seems providential.” + +“Well, Mr. Murphy attributes it to himself, and declares it is the +direct answer to his prayers,” laughed Molly, and told Miss Walker of +the little calf trunk and the old baggage master’s sentimentality about +it. + +“I am going to read you part of a letter concerning Melissa Hathaway, +and that will explain her and her being at Wellington better than any +words of mine. This letter is from an old graduate, a splendid woman who +has for years been doing a kind of social settlement work in the +mountains of Virginia and Kentucky. + + “‘I am sending you the first ripe fruit from the orchard that I + planted at least ten years ago in this mountain soil. You must not + think it is a century plant I am tending. I gather flowers every day + that fully repay me for my labor here, but, alas, flowers do not + always come to fruit. Melissa Hathaway is without doubt one of the + most remarkable young women I have ever known, and has repaid me for + the infinite pains I have taken with her, and will repay every one + by being a success. She comes from surroundings that the people of + cities could hardly dream of, in spite of the slums that are, of + course, worse because of their crowded condition and lack of air. + But in these mountain cabins you find a desolation and ignorance + that is appalling, but at the same time a rectitude and intelligence + that astonish you; and unbounded hospitality. + + “‘A generation ago the Hathaways were rather well-to-do, for the + mountains; that is, they owned a cow and some hogs and chickens and + did not sleep in the kitchen, but had a second room and some twenty + beautiful home-made quilts. A feud wiped almost the whole family off + the face of the earth. Melissa’s father, grandfather and three + uncles were killed in a raid by their mortal enemies, the Sydneys, + and the grandmother and Melissa were the only ones left to tell the + tale. (Her young mother died in giving birth to Melissa.) Melissa + was eight years old at the time of the wholesale tragedy, which + occurred a few days before I came here to take up my life work. I + went to old Mrs. Hathaway’s cabin as soon as I could make my way + across the mountain. The old woman received me with dignity and + reserve, but some suspicion. I asked her to let Melissa come to + school. She was rather eager for her to learn, since she was nothing + but a miserable girl. She was bitter on the subject of Melissa’s + sex. “Ter think of my bringing forth man-child after man-child, and + here in my old age not a thing but this puny little gal ter look to, + ter shoot down those dogs of Sydneys!” + + “‘This child of eight (Melissa is now eighteen, but looks older), + came to school every day rain or shine, walking three miles over the + worst trail you have ever imagined. Her eagerness for knowledge was + something pathetic. I realized from the beginning that she had a + very remarkable intellect and gave her every chance for cultivation + and preparation for college, determined that my Alma Mater should + have the final hand in her education if it could be managed. And + now, managed it is by a scholarship presented to my now flourishing + school by the Mountain Educational Association. I am sorry her + clothes are not quite what my beautiful Melissa should have, but she + would not accept a penny for clothes from any of the funds that I + sometimes have at my disposal. “Money for my education is + different,” she said. “I mean to bring all of that back to the + mountains and give it to my people, but I cannot let any one spend + money on clothes for me. They would burn my back unless I earned + them myself.” She was that way from the time she first came to me. I + remember she had a green skirt and an old black basque of her + grandmother’s, belted in on her slim little figure. I wanted all of + my pupils to have a change of clothing, as from the first I was + trying to teach cleanliness and hygiene along with the three R’s. I + asked the children one day to let me know if they had two of + everything. Melissa stood up and proudly raised her hand. “Please, + Miss Teacher, we’uns is got two dresses; one ain’t got no waist and + one ain’t got no skirt, but they is two dresses.” + + “‘I know that my dear Miss Walker will do her best to place my girl + where she can make some friends and not get too homesick for her + mountains. I wish she had clothes more like other people, but, since + she is what she is, I fancy the clothes in the long run will not + make much difference.’ + +“That is all of interest to you,” concluded Miss Walker. “Miss Hathaway +is, to say the least, a very remarkable young woman. Her entrance +examination was unconditioned. And now to get her into a suitable room! +I had expected to put her in one over the postoffice, but she would be +so isolated there. I wish she could have the singleton near you in the +Quadrangle. I, too, have some funds at my disposal that would enable me +to give her one of these more expensive rooms, but do you think she +would accept it?” + +Molly, rather amused at being asked by Prexy herself to decide what to +do with this proud girl, smilingly answered, “I am proud myself, but +lots of things have been done for me without my knowing about it, and +when I do find out I am not hurt but pleased to feel that my friends +want to help me. I can’t remember being insulted yet.” + +“Well, my child, if I have your sanction about a little mild deceit, I +think I’ll put Miss Hathaway in the singleton near you. I believe she is +going to be a credit to Wellington. Kentucky has been good to us, +indeed.” + +“I’ll do all I can to help Melissa,” said Molly, her eyes still misty +over the letter concerning the childhood of the mountain girl. “She +interests me deeply.” + +Then Molly and Miss Walker plunged into a talk about what Molly was to +study. English Literature and Composition were of course the big things, +but she was also anxious to take up some special work in Domestic +Science, a new and very complete equipment having been recently +installed at Wellington and a highly recommended teacher, a graduate +from the Boston school, being in charge. + +“Miss Hathaway is to do work on that line, too, and I fancy you will be +put into the same division. She is preparing herself to help her +mountain people, and I think they need domestic science even more than +they do higher mathematics.” + +Molly escorted Melissa to her small room in the Quadrangle, where she +was duly and gratefully installed. Her shyness was passing off with +Nance and Molly, and now they noticed that she never made the slips into +the mountain vernacular. But on meeting strangers, or when embarrassed +in any way, she would unconsciously drop into it, and then become more +embarrassed. She never let herself off, but always bit her lip and +quickly repeated her remark in the proper English. + +“She is really almost as foreign as little Otoyo Sen,” said Nance. + + + + +CHAPTER II.—LEVITY IN THE LEAVEN. + + +“Molly, do you know you are a grown-up lady?” asked Nance a few days +after they had settled themselves and were back in the grind of work. “I +have been seeing it in all kinds of ways; firstly, you have gained in +weight.” + +“Only three pounds, and that could not show much, spread over such a +large area,” laughed Molly. + +“Well, you look more rounded, somehow. Then I notice you keep your pumps +on and don’t kick them off every time you sit down; and when you do sit +down you don’t always lie down as you used to do. Now, I have always +been a grown-up little old lady, but you were a child when you left +college last June, and now you are a beautiful, dignified woman.” + +“Nonsense, Nance, I am exactly the same. I don’t kick off my pumps +because I might have a hole in the toe of my stocking, and I don’t lie +down when I sit down because of my good tailored skirt. You are just +fancying things. I am the same old kid. It is thanks to Judy that I have +the tailor-made dress and the other things that make me feel grown-up. +You see, my family have always had an idea that I did not care for +clothes just because I wore the old ones without complaining. One day +Kent spoke of my indifference to clothes to Judy, and she fired up and +told him I did love clothes and would like to have pretty ones more than +any girl she knew of; that I pretended to be indifferent just to carry +off the old ones with grace. Kent was very much astonished and the dear +boy insisted on my going into Louisville before Judy left and having a +good tailor make me two dresses, this blue one for every day and my +lovely best gray. I was so afraid of hurting Miss Lizzie Monday’s +feelings (she is the little old seamstress who has made my clothes ever +since I was born); but Kent fixed that up by going to see Miss Lizzie +himself, asking her advice and requesting her company into Louisville, +where we did the shopping and interviewed the tailor, had lunch at the +Watterson and took in a show in the afternoon. Miss Lizzie had the time +of her life and was as much pleased over my having some good clothes as +I am myself. Dear old Kent had to draw on his savings that he is putting +by with a view to taking a finishing course on architecture, but mother +says she is going to reimburse him just as soon as there is a settlement +made for the oil lands we are selling.” + +“Do you know, Molly, when I got your letter telling me about Mr. Kean’s +nosing out oil on your place, I was so happy and excited that I began to +cry and got my nose so red I had to skip a lecture at Chautauqua, which +shocked my mother greatly. To think of your dear mother having an income +that will make her comfortable and independent!” + +“Mother does not seem to be greatly elated over it. She is very glad to +pay off the mortgage on Chatsworth; relieved that we shall not have to +sell our beautiful beech woods; but money means less to my mother than +any one in the world, I do believe. Why, talking about my being a kid, I +was born more grown-up than my mother, in some ways. It’s the Irish in +her. The Irish are all children.” + +Molly had very cleverly got Nance off of the subject of there being a +change in her, but Nance was right. Molly was older, and she felt it +herself. The summer had been an eventful one for her and had left her +older and wiser. Mildred’s marriage; Jimmy Lufton’s proposal, or near +proposal; the family’s change of fortune; Professor Green’s evident +preference for her society; all these things had combined to sober her +in a way. + +“I am as limber as ever, and don’t feel my age in my ‘jints,’ but I am +getting on,” thought Molly. “Nance sees it, and I wonder if Professor +Green notices it. He seemed a little stiff with me, but seeing him for +the first time in class might account for that.” + +The class in Domestic Science was proving of tremendous interest both to +Molly and Melissa. Melissa had much to learn and Molly much to un-learn. +It was a special course, and for that reason girls from all classes were +mixed in it. There were quite a number of Juniors, and Molly was sorry +to see Anne White among them, as she had been on the platform at +Wellington when Melissa arrived, and, in the quiet way for which she was +famous in making trouble, had been the one to start the titter that had +grown, as that seemingly unconscious young goddess made her way down the +platform, into a wave of laughter. Melissa had been fully aware of the +amusement she had caused, but she had borne no malice against the +thoughtless girls. + +“I reckon I was a figure of fun to these rich girls,” Melissa said to +Molly, “but I know they did not mean to be unkind; and if they knew what +it means to me to come to college perhaps they would look at me +differently. Anyhow, you were so nice to me from the very minute I spoke +to you; and even before I spoke, Molly, dear, because I saw your sweet +eyes taking me in as I came up the platform between the rows of grinning +students. And I said to myself, ‘All these are just second-growth timber +and don’t count for much. That girl with the blue eyes and the pretty +red hair looking at me so kindly is the only tree here that is worth +much.’ And somehow I have been resting in the shade of your branches +ever since.” + +This little conversation was held one morning as the girls were getting +their materials ready for some experimental bread-making. A tremendously +interesting lecture on yeast had preceded it, and now was to be followed +by various chemical experiments. The lecturer had not arrived, but had +appointed certain students to get the materials in order. + +Anne White was one of the monitors, and was moving around in a demure +way, daintily setting out the little bowls of flour and portions of +yeast. Anne White was a small, mousy-looking, brown-haired young woman +who looked as though butter would not melt in her mouth, but who was in +reality often the ring-leader in many foolish escapades. She was a great +practical joker, and when all is told a practical joker is a very trying +person, and very often a person lacking in true humor. As she placed the +bowls of yeast, she sang the following song with many sly looks at Molly +and her friend: + + “The first time I saw Melissa, + She was sitting in the cellar, + Sitting in the cellar shelling peas. + And when I stooped to kiss her, + She said she’d tell her mother, + For she was such an awful little tease. + Oh, wasn’t she sweet? You bet she was, + She couldn’t have been any sweeter. + Oh, wasn’t she cute? You bet she was, + She couldn’t have been any cuter. + For when I stooped to kiss her, + She said she’d tell her mother, + For she was such an awful little tease.” + +The singing was so evidently done for Melissa’s benefit that Molly felt +indignant. + +“I can’t stand teasing, and certainly not such silly teasing as Anne +White delights in. She is a slippery little thing, and I have an idea +means mischief for my Melissa. I wish Judy were here to circumvent her, +but since she is not I shall have to keep my eye open.” So thought +Molly, and accordingly opened her eyes just in time to see Anne White +raise the cover of Melissa’s bowl of flour and drop in something. The +instructor came in just then and the class came to order. + +“It can’t do any real harm,” thought Molly, “because we don’t have to +eat our messes, but if it is something to embarrass Melissa I shall have +a talk with Anne White that she will remember all her days. She knows +Melissa and I are not the kind to blab on her, the reason she is +presuming in this way.” + +Miss Morse, the Domestic Science teacher, was so exactly like the +advertisements in the magazines of various foodstuffs that one was +forced to smile. She was always dressed in immaculate linen, and, as she +would stand at her desk and hold out a sample of material with which she +was going to demonstrate, her smile and expression were always those of +the lady who says, “Use this and no other.” She was thoroughly in +earnest, however, and scientific, and her lectures on Domestic Economy +were really thrilling to Molly, who always took an interest in household +affairs and was astonished to find out what a waste was going on in all +American homes. Melissa listened to every word, and felt that the +knowledge she was gaining in this branch of college work was perhaps the +most necessary of all to take back to her mountain people. + +Miss Morse had the most wonderful and capable hands that were ever seen. +She was never known to spill anything or slop over; she used her scales +and measures with the precision of an analytical chemist; and, no matter +how complicated the experiment, there were no extra, useless utensils. +This in itself is worth coming to college to learn, as I have never +known a girl make a plate of fudge without getting every pan in the +kitchen dirty. Later on in the course of lectures this wonderful woman +actually killed a fowl and picked and dressed it right before the eyes +of the astonished girls, without making a spot on her dress or on the +cloth spread on her desk, and she did not even turn back her linen +cuffs. + +“I wish Ca’line could see that,” thought Molly on that occasion, a +picture of the chicken pickin’ in the back yard at Chatsworth coming +before her mind’s eye, with feathers flying hither and yon and Ca’line +herself covered with gore. + +“Now, young ladies,” said the precise Miss Morse, “enough flour is given +each one for a small loaf of bread; the right amount of water is +measured out; salt and sugar; lard and yeast. You have the correct +material for a perfect loaf. This is a demonstration of yesterday’s +lecture. Remember, salt retards the action of yeast and must not be put +in until the yeast plant has begun to grow. Sugar promotes the growth +and can be placed in the warm water with the yeast.” + +The students went eagerly to work like so many children with their mud +pies. In due course of time each little loaf was made out and put at +exactly the right temperature to rise. Miss Morse explained to them the +different methods of bread-making and the fallacy of thinking that good +bread-making is due to luck. Molly smiled in remembering what dear old +Aunt Mary had said about remembering to put the gumption in. + +While the bread was rising and baking the girls were allowed to work on +their Domestic Science problem, a pretty difficult one requiring all +their faculties: it was how to feed a family consisting of five, mother +and father and three children, on ten dollars for one week. The market +price of food was given and their menus were to be worked out with +regard to the amount of nourishment to be gained as well as the +suitability of food. Miss Morse told them they would have to study +pretty hard to do it, but it was splendid practice. Poor Melissa was +having a hard time. In the first place, she knew so little about food, +having been brought up so very simply, and then, she confided to Molly, +she was very much worried about her loaf of bread because it didn’t do +just right. + +Finally the time was up, and the bread, too, according to science, +should have been up and ready to bake. The monitors were requested to +place the loaves in the gas ovens, already tested and proved to be of +proper temperature. The problems, meantime, must be completed at once +and handed in. + +A wail from Melissa on the aside to Molly: “Oh, Molly, Molly, I have got +my family all fed for six days, and I forgot Sunday. Not a cent of money +left from all of that ten dollars, and I have known whole families live +for a month on less in the mountains! What shall I do?” + +“I tell you,” said Molly, stopping a minute to think, “have them all +invited out to Sunday dinner and let them eat no breakfast in +anticipation of the good things they are expecting; and let the dinner +be so delicious and plentiful that they can’t possibly want any supper.” + +“Good,” said Melissa, ever appreciative of Molly’s suggestions, “I’ll do +that very thing.” And so she did; and Miss Morse was so amused that she +let it pass as a very good paper, as indeed it was. + +All of the little loaves were baked and placed in front of the girls, +the pans being numbered so that each loaf returned to its trembling +maker. It was strange that in spite of science the loaves did not look +exactly alike. Molly’s was beautiful, but had she not had her hand in +Aunt Mary’s dough ever since she could climb up to the table and cut out +little “bis’it wif a thimble”? Some of them looked bumpy and some +stringy, but poor Melissa’s was a strange dark color and had not risen. + +“Miss Hathaway, did you follow the directions in your experiment?” + +“Yes, Miss Morse, to the best of my ability,” answered Melissa. And, +then flushing and becoming excited, she dropped into her familiar +mountain speech. “Some low-down sneak has drapped some sody in we’un’s +pannikin. I mean, oh, I mean, some ill-bred person has put saleratus in +my little bowl. I have been raised on too much saleratus in the bread, +and I know it.” And the proud mountain girl, who had not minded the +laughter caused by her appearance, burst into tears over the failure of +her bread-making and fled from the room. + +Miss Morse was shocked and sorry that such a scene should have occurred +in her class, but was determined to investigate the matter. She +dismissed the class without a word; but, as Molly was leaving the room, +she requested her to stop a moment. + +“Miss Brown, this is a very unfortunate thing to have occurred in this +class. Domestic Science seems to be an easy prey to the practical joke, +and when once it is started it is a difficult matter to weed out. I am +particularly sorry for it to have been played on Miss Hathaway, who is +so earnest and anxious to learn. Miss Walker has told me much about her, +and the girl’s appearance alone is fine enough to interest one. I could +not help seeing by your countenance, which is a very speaking one, my +dear, that you knew something about this so-called joke. Now, Miss +Brown, I ask you as a friend to tell me what you know, and, if you are +not willing, I demand it of you as an instructor and member of the +faculty of Wellington.” + +Molly, who had been as pale as death ever since Melissa’s mortification +and outbreak, now flushed crimson, held her breath a minute to get +control of her voice, and then answered with as much composure as she +could muster: “Miss Morse, I have gone through four years at Wellington +and have happened to know of a great many scrapes the different students +have got themselves in, but never yet have I been known to tell tales, +and I could hardly start now. I do know who did the dastardly trick, and +am glad that Melissa had recourse to her native dialect to express her +feelings about the person who was mean enough to do it; ‘low-down sneak’ +is exactly what she was.” + +“Very well, Miss Brown, if you refuse to divulge the name of the joker, +I shall be forced to take the matter up with the president. I hoped we +could settle it in the class. This department being a new one at +Wellington, and also my first experience at teaching, I naturally have +some feeling about making it go as smoothly as possible.” This time Miss +Morse was flushed and her lip trembling. + +Molly felt truly sorry for her, and suddenly realized that Miss Morse, +with all of her assurance, was little more than a girl herself. As for +taking it up with the president, Molly smiled when she remembered the +time Miss Walker had tried to make her tell, and when she had refused +how Miss Walker had hugged her. + +“Oh, Miss Morse, I am so sorry for you, and wish, almost wish, some one +had seen the offence besides myself, some one who would not mind +telling; but I truly can’t tell, somehow I am not made that way. There +is something I can do, though, and that is, go call on the person myself +and put it up to her to refrain from any more jokes in your class. I +meant to see her, anyhow, and warn her to let my Melissa alone.” + +“Would you do that? I think that would be all that is necessary, and I +need not inform the president. I thank you, Miss Brown. You do not know +how this has disturbed me.” + +“Too much ‘sody’ in the bread is a very disturbing thing,” laughed +Molly. “I remember a story they tell on my grandfather. He had an old +cook who was very fond of making buttermilk biscuit, and equally fond of +putting too much soda in them. He stood it for some time, but one +morning when they were brought to breakfast as green as poor Melissa’s +loaf, grandpa sent for the cook and made her eat the whole panful. +Needless to add, she was cured of the soda habit. It would be a great +way to cure the would-be joker if we made her eat Melissa’s sad loaf.” + +Molly did see Anne White that very afternoon, making a formal call on +her and giving that mousy young woman a talk that made her cry and +promise to play no more jokes in Domestic Science class, and to +apologize to Melissa for the mortification she had caused her. Molly +told her something about Melissa and the struggle and sacrifices she had +made to get her education, and before she had finished Anne White was as +much interested in the mountain girl and as anxious for her to succeed +as Molly herself. She promised to help her all she could, and a Junior +can do a great deal to help a Freshman. Molly was astonished to find +that Anne White was really rather likable. She had a mistaken sense of +fun, but was not really unkind. + +Melissa had too much to do to brood long over her outbreak, and laughed +and let the matter drop out of her mind when the following apology was +poked under her door: + + “My Dear Miss Hathaway: I am truly sorry to have caused you so much + mortification in the Domestic Science class. It was a very foolish, + thoughtless act, and I hope you will accept my apology. I wish I had + found such a friend in my freshman year as you have in Molly Brown. + + “Sincerely yours, + “‘A Low-Down Sneak.’” + + + + +CHAPTER III.—HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF. + + +Molly and Nance were very busy with their special courses, Nance working +at French literature as though she had no other interest in the world, +and Molly at English and Domestic Science. + +“Thank goodness, I shall not have to tutor! Since we ‘struck ile’ I am +saved that,” said Molly one day to her roommate, who was as usual +occupied, in spite of its being “blind man’s holiday,” too early to +light the gas and too late to see without it. “Nance, you will put out +your eyes with that mending. I never saw such a busy bee as you are. +Melissa tells me you are going to help her with a dress, too.” + +“Yes, I am so glad she will let me. I told her how we made the Empire +gown for you in your Freshman year, and she seemed to feel that if her +dear Molly allowed that much to be done for her, it was not for her to +object to a similar favor. I know you will laugh when I tell you that I +am going to get a one-piece dress and an extra skirt for shirtwaists out +of the blue homespun. It is beautiful material, spun with an +old-fashioned spinning wheel and woven on a hand loom by Melissa’s +grandmother. Did you ever see so much goods in one dress? It seems that +the dear woman who has taught her everything she knows has not had any +new clothes herself for ten years, and could not give her much idea of +the prevailing fashion; and Melissa made this dress herself from a +pattern her mother had used for her wedding dress. I hate to cut it up. +It seems a kind of desecration, but Melissa has a splendid figure and if +her clothes were not quite so voluminous she would be as stylish as any +one. She improves every day in many ways and seems to be less shy.” + +“She has an instinct for good literature. Professor Green tells me her +taste is unerring. He says it is because her preference is for the +simple, and the simple is always the best. Little Otoyo has the same +feeling for the best in poetry. Haven’t we missed that little Jap, +though? I’ll be so glad to have her back. I fancy I shall have some +tutoring to do in spite of myself to get Otoyo Sen up with her class.” + +Otoyo Sen, the little Japanese girl who had played such a close part in +the college life of our girls, had been back in Japan, and had not been +able to reach America in time for the opening weeks of college, due to +some business engagements of her father. But she was trusting to Molly +and her own industry to catch up with her class, and was hurrying back +to Wellington as fast as the San Francisco Limited could bring her. + +Molly had been writing every moment that she could spare from her hard +reading, and now she had two things she really wanted to show Professor +Green—a story she had worked on for weeks until it seemed to be part of +her, and a poem. She had sent the poem to a magazine and it had been +rejected, accompanied by a letter which she could not understand. At all +times in earlier days she had gone frankly to the professor’s study to +ask him for advice, but this year she could hardly make up her mind to +do it. + +“He is as kind as ever to me, but somehow I can’t make up my mind to run +in on him as I used to,” said Molly to herself. “I know I am a silly +goose—or is it perhaps because I am so grown up? It is only five o’clock +this minute, it gets dark so early in November, and I have half a mind +to go now.” The temperament that goes with Molly’s coloring usually +means quick action following the thought, so in a moment Molly had on +her jacket and hat. “Nance, I am going to see Professor Green about some +things I have been writing. I won’t be late, but don’t wait tea for me. +Melissa may be in to see us, but you will take care of her, I know.” + +There was a rather tired-sounding, “Come in,” at Molly’s knock on +Professor Green’s study door. + +“Oh, dear, now I am going to bore him!” thought the girl. “I have half a +mind to run back through the passage and get out into the Cloister +before he has a chance to open the door and see who was knocking. But +that would be too foolish for a postgraduate! I’d better run the risk of +boring him rather than have him think I am some one playing a foolish +Sophomore joke, or even a timid little Freshman, afraid to call her soul +her own.” + +“Come in, come in. Is any one there?” called the voice rather briskly +for the usually gentle professor. And before Molly could open the door +it was actually jerked open. “Dearest Molly!—I mean, Miss Molly—I +thought you were going to be some one else. The fact is, I have had a +regular visitation from would-be poets this afternoon, and, as it never +rains but it pours, I had a terrible feeling that it was another one. I +am so glad to see you; not just because you are not what I feared you +were, but because you are you.” + +Molly blushed crimson and tried to hide the little roll of manuscript +behind her, but the young man saw it and kicked himself mentally for a +rash, talking idiot. + +“I can’t come in, thank you. I just stopped by to—to——I just thought I’d +ask you when your sister was coming.” + +“Oh, Molly Brown, what a poor prevaricator you do make! You know +perfectly well you have written something you want me to see; and you +also know, or ought to know, that I want to see what you have written +above everything; and what I said about would-be poets had nothing to do +with you and me. The fact is, I am a would-be myself and have been +working on a sonnet this afternoon instead of looking over the thousand +themes that I must have finished before to-morrow’s lecture. I had just +got the eighth line completed when you knocked, and the six others will +be easy. Please come in and take off your hat, and I’ll get Mrs. Brady +to make us some tea; and while the kettle is boiling you can show me +what you have been doing, and when I get my other six lines to my sonnet +done I’ll show it to you.” + +Molly of course had to comply with a request made with so much +kindliness and sincerity. Mrs. Brady came, in answer to the professor’s +bell which connected his study with his house, and was delighted to see +Molly, remembering with great pleasure the Christmas breakfast the young +girl had cooked for Professor Green the year before. Molly had a way +with her that appealed to old people as well as young, and she had won +Mrs. Brady’s heart on that memorable morning by telling her that she, +too, boasted of Irish blood. + +“And I might have known it, from the sweet tongue in your head,” Mrs. +Brady had replied. + +The old woman hastened off to make the tea, and Molly reluctantly +unrolled her manuscript. + +“Professor Green, I want you to think of me as some one you do not know +or like when you read my stuff.” + +“That is a very difficult task you have set me, and I am afraid one that +I am unequal to; but I do promise to be unbiased and to give you my real +opinion, and you must not be discouraged if it is not favorable, +because, after all, it is worth very little.” + +“I think it is worth a lot. This first thing is something I have been +working on very hard. It is called ‘The Basket Funeral.’ I remembered +what you told me about trying to write about familiar things, and then, +on reading the ‘Life and Letters of Jane Austen,’ I came on her advice +to a niece who was contemplating a literary career. It was, ‘Send your +characters where you have never been yourself, but never take them.’ I +had never been out of Kentucky, except to row across the Ohio River to +Indiana, when I came to Wellington, and so I put my story in Kentucky +with Aunt Mary as my heroine. Now be as hard on me as you want to. I can +stand it.” + +There was perfect silence in the pleasant study while Edwin Green +carefully perused the well-written manuscript. An occasional involuntary +chuckle was all that broke the quiet when one of Aunt Mary’s witticisms +brought back the figure of the old darkey to his mind. When he had +finished, which was in a very few minutes, as the sketch was a short +one, he carefully rolled the paper and remained silent. Molly felt as +though she would scream if he did not say something, but not a word did +he utter, only sat and rolled the manuscript and smiled an inscrutable +smile. Finally she could stand it no longer. + +“I am sorry to have bothered you, Professor Green. I know it is hard for +you to have to tell me the truth, so I won’t ask you.” She reached for +the roll of paper, her hand shaking a little with excitement. + +“Oh, please excuse me. Do you know, I took you at your word and forgot I +knew you, and forgot how much I liked you; forgot everything in fact but +Aunt Mary and the ‘Basket Funeral.’ My dear girl, you have done a +wonderful little bit of writing, simple, natural, sincere. I +congratulate you and envy you.” + +And what should Molly do, great, big, grown-up postgraduate that she +was, but behave exactly as the little Freshman had four years before +when this same august professor had rescued her from the locked +Cloisters: she burst into tears. At that crucial moment the rattle of +tea cups was heard as Mrs. Brady came lumbering down the hall, and Molly +had to compose herself and make out she had a bad cold. + +“Have some hot soup,” said the young man, and both of them laughed. + +“It was natural for me to blubber, after all,” said Molly, after Mrs. +Brady had taken her departure. “When you sat there so still, with your +lips so tightly closed, I felt exactly as I did four years ago, shut out +in the cold with all the doors locked; and when you finally spoke it was +like coming into your warm pleasant study again with you being kind to +me just as you were to the little scared Freshman. Do you know, I like +my picture of Aunt Mary, too, and when I thought you didn’t like it I +felt forlorn indeed.” + +“I notice one thing, Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky doesn’t cry until +everything is over. The little Freshman didn’t blubber while she was +locked out, but waited until she got into the pleasant study, and now +the ancient postgrad is able to restrain her tears until the awful ogre +of a critic praises her work. Now let’s have another cup of tea all +around and show me what else you have brought.” + +“I hesitate to show you this more than the other thing, after your +cutting remarks about would-bes. But I want you to read this so you can +tell me what this letter means that I got from the editor of a magazine, +when he politely returned my rejected poem.” + +“Read me the poem yourself. Would you mind? Poetry should always be read +aloud, I think; and afterward I will see what I think the editor meant.” + +[Illustration: “Read me the poem yourself. Would you mind?”—Page 218.] + +“All right, but I am afraid it is getting late and Nance will worry +about me.” + +The study was cosy indeed with its rows and rows of books, its +comfortable chairs and the cheerful open grate. This was his one +extravagance in a land of furnace heat and drum stoves, so Edwin Green +declared. “But somehow the glow of the fire makes me think better,” he +said in self-defence. + +Molly read any poetry well, her voice with its musical quality being +peculiarly adapted to it. This was her poem: + + “My thoughts like gentle steeds to-day + Rest quiet in the paddock fold, + Munching their food contentedly. + Was it last night? When up—away! + Through spaces limitless, untold, + Like storm clouds lashed before the wind, + Nor strength, nor will could check nor hold, + Manes flying—through the night they dashed + ‘Til the first glimmering sun’s ray flashed + Its blessed light; ‘til the first sigh + Of dawn’s awak’ning stirred the leaves. + Then back to quiet fold—the night was done— + Bend patient necks—the yoke—and day’s begun.” + +“Let me see it. Your voice would make ‘Eany, meany, miney, mo’ sound +like music. I should have read it first to myself to be able to pass on +it without prejudice.” + +He took the poem and read it very carefully. “Miss Molly, you are aware +of the fact that you may become a real writer? How old are you?” + +“Almost twenty.” + +“Well, I consider that a pretty good poem for almost twenty. I bet I +know what that saphead of an editor had to say without reading his +letter. Didn’t he say something about your having only thirteen lines?” + +“Oh, is that what he meant? I have puzzled my brains out over his note. +I didn’t even know I had only thirteen lines. Of course I knew it wasn’t +exactly sonnet form, but somehow I started out to make fourteen lines +and thought I had done it. Here is his cryptic note.” + + “Dear M. B.: We are sorry to say we are too superstitious to print + your poem. Are the poor horses too tired to go a few more feet? If + you can urge them on, even if you should lame them a bit, we might + reconsider and accept your verses. + + “The Editor of ——” + +“Fools, fools, all of them are fools! Don’t you change it for the whole +of the silly magazine. It is a good poem, and its having thirteen lines +is none of his business. Haven’t you as much right to create a form of +verse as Villon or Alfred Tennyson? That editor would have rejected +‘Tears, idle tears,’ because it hasn’t a rhyme in it and looks as though +it might have.” + +The professor was so excited that Molly had to laugh. + +“You are certainly kind to me and my efforts. I must go now. Please give +my love to Mrs. Brady and thank her for her tea. You never did tell me +when you expect your sister.” + +“Bless my soul,” said Edwin Green, looking at his watch, “she will be +here in a few minutes now!” + +“Don’t forget to let me see your sonnet, and please put all the lines +in. I am so glad your sister is to be with you, and hope to see her +often.” + +And Molly flew away, happy as a bird that her writing was coming on, and +that she felt at home again with the most interesting man she had ever +met. + + + + +CHAPTER IV.—A BARREL FROM HOME. + + +Christmas was upon our girls almost before they had unpacked and settled +down to work. Mid-year exams. had no terrors for our two post-graduates, +but they were working just as hard as they ever had in their collegiate +course. + +“I don’t know what it is that drives us so, Nance, unless it is that we +are getting ready for the final examination at Judgment Day,” said +Molly. “I am so interested, I never seem to get tired these days; and I +don’t even mind the tutoring that has been thrust upon me. Now that I +shall not have to teach for a living, I really believe I should not mind +it very much.” + +Otoyo Sen was safely sailing under Molly’s tutelage through her senior +year. She spoke the most correct and precise English unless she was +embarrassed or upset in some way, and then, like Melissa Hathaway, she +spoke from the heart, and little Otoyo’s heart seemed to beat in adverbs +and participles. She and Melissa had struck up the closest friendship. + +“We might have known they would,” said the analytical Nance. “They are +strangely alike to be so different.” + +“Now, Nance, how Bostonesque we are becoming! I have never asked a +Bostonian a question that I have not been answered in this way, ‘It is +and it isn’t,’” teased Molly. + +“Well, they are alike in being foreign, for Melissa is as foreign from +us as is Otoyo. Then they are both scrupulously courteous until their +amour propre is stepped on, and then you realize that they are both +medieval. They are certainly alike in pride and in fortitude and +perseverance and family feeling. You know perfectly well that the real +Melissa that is so covered up by this educated Melissa would take a gun +and shoot every living Sydney she could get at if her grandmother told +her to! I hope to goodness modernism will never get to the old woman and +she will learn that women can do anything men can, or she will make +Melissa take the place of the sons she mourns. On the other hand, little +Otoyo would commit hara-kiri without winking an eyelash if +honorable-father told her to.” + +“You have so convinced me of their similarity that I see no room for +difference. They will look to me exactly like twins after this,” laughed +Molly; and both the girls could hardly restrain their merriment, for at +that moment the so-called twins came in to call: Melissa, tall and +stately as “the lonesome pine,” with all doubts as to her fine figure +removed now, thanks to Nance’s skillful reformation of the blue +homespun; and little Otoyo looking more like a mechanical toy than ever, +since she had taken on a little more of the desirable flesh, according +to the taste of her countrymen. + +“Melissa and I have determined to move into a suite together,” said +Otoyo, as they entered. “Miss Walker said it is not usually for a +Freshman and Senior to be so intimately, but since there is a suite +vacant in the Quadrangle and more visits for singletons than suites, she +is willing.” + +“You are excited over it, I know, you dear little Otoyo,” said her +tutor, “or you would not be so adverbial, and you must mean ‘calls for +singletons’ instead of ‘visits.’” + +“Oh, you English and your language, made for what you call puns!” + +“I am glad you call them puns instead of visiting them on us,” said +Nance, dodging a soft cushion hurled by Molly. “Did you girls hear the +news? I am to stay at Wellington for Christmas and my father is coming +down here to spend it with me. I can’t think when father has taken a +holiday before, and I am as excited about it as can be. He needs a rest, +and he needs some fun. I wish he could have come last year before the +old guard disbanded.” + +“But listen to me,” put in Molly. “I have some news, too, that I was +trying to keep for a surprise, but I am a sieve where news is concerned: +Judy Kean is to be here for Christmas, too. She writes that as her +mother and father are in Turkey she will have to have some turkey in +her, and she can think of no place that she would rather have that +turkey than at Wellington with us. Dear old Judy, won’t it be fun? And +she will help to whoop things up for your father, Nance. She expected to +be studying art in Paris by now, but Mr. Kean insisted on a year of +drawing in New York before Paris, and that makes her in easy reach of +us. We shall have to stop work and go to playing. I declare I have grown +so used to work—I don’t believe I know how to play.” + +“Mees Grace Green is going to have an astonishment party for her +brother, the young student medical,” said Otoyo, the ever-ready news +monger. + +“A surprise party for Dodo,” shrieked the girls with delight. “Otoyo, +Otoyo, you are too delicious.” + +“Also, Mr. Andy McLean will be home with his honorable parents for +making holiday, having done much proud work in the law school at Harvard +University.” + +Nance smiled. Her private opinion was that Mr. Andrew McLean and his +proud work were the cause of Otoyo’s very mixed English. + +“Also,” continued Otoyo, “Mr. Andrew McLean will bring with him +honorable young Japanese gentleman, who has hugged the Christian faith +and is muchly studying to live in this country, whereas his honorable +father has a wonderful shop of beautiful Japanese prints in Boston. My +honorable father is familiar with his honorable father, namely, Mr. +Seshu.” + +“Oh ho, and that is the reason of the many mistakes,” said Molly, in an +aside to Nance. “I thought at first it was Andy’s return, but I bet the +little thing is contemplating something in connection with the honorable +Mr. Seshu. I wonder if her father has written her about this young Jap.” + +During all this chit-chat Melissa had sat perfectly quiet, but her quiet +was never heavy nor depressing. She looked calmly and interestedly on +and listened and smiled and sometimes gave a low laugh, showing that her +humor was keen and ready. Otoyo was a never-failing source of delight to +her, and when the little thing spoke of hugging the Christian faith a +real hearty laugh came bubbling up. But she put her arm affectionately +around her little friend and smothered her laugh in Otoyo’s smooth black +hair, that always had a look of having just been brushed, no matter how +modern and American was the arrangement. + +And very modern and American were all of Otoyo’s arrangements now. Her +clothes bore the stamp of the best New York shops, with the most +up-to-date shoes and hats, and she endeavored in every way to be as +American as possible. She even tried to use the slang she heard around +her, but her attempts in that direction were very laughable. + +In due time the holidays arrived, and with them came our own Judy full +of enthusiasm for her work at the art school; came young Andy with his +Japanese friend from the law school. Andy looking older and broader and +more robust, not half so raw-boned as he used to be, and the young +Japanese gentleman, on first sight, so like Otoyo that it was funny—but, +on further acquaintance, it proved to be a racial likeness only; came +Nance’s father, a staid, quiet gentleman with his daughter’s merry brown +eyes and a general look of one to be depended on; came George Theodore +Green, familiarly known as Dodo, no longer so shy, but with much more +assurance of manner, as befitted a medical student from Johns Hopkins. + +Miss Grace Green had secretly sent out invitations for the surprise +party for Christmas Eve, and all the girls were very busy getting their +best bibs and tuckers in order to do honor to the occasion. Molly had +seen a good deal of Miss Green since she came to Wellington to keep +house for her brother, and they had become fast friends. Miss Green +often asked her to come in to afternoon tea, and then they would have +the most delightful talks in the professor’s study, and he would read to +them. Sometimes Molly would be prevailed upon to read some of her +sketches, always of Kentucky and the familiar things of her childhood. +She lost her shyness in doing this, and felt that it rather helped her +and gave her new ideas for more things to write about. + +“Judy, please help me unpack this barrel from home,” called Molly the +day before Christmas. “I know you will want to help carry some of the +things to the Greens for me. I almost wish I had sent the barrel there, +as so many of the things are to go to them. We shall be laden down, I am +sure.” + +Judy, all excitement, began to knock off the top hoop and then with much +hacking and prying they finally got off the head of the +formidable-looking barrel and began to unpack the goodies: a ham for the +professor of English cooked by Aunt Mary; a fruit cake for Molly, black +and rich, with an odor to it that Judy said reminded her of the feast in +St. Agnes Eve; a jar of Rosemary pickles; one of brandy peaches; a box +of beaten biscuit; a roasted turkey, stuffed with chestnuts, and a +wonderful bunch of mistletoe full of berries, growing to a knobby +stunted branch of a walnut tree, which Kent had sawed off with great +care and then packed so well with tissue paper that not one berry or +leaf was misplaced. + +“This is for Miss Green’s party. I asked Kent to get it for me. You know +her party is to be an old English one, and it would not be complete +without mistletoe. What is this little note hitched to it? + + “’Dearest Molly: + + “‘I almost broke my neck getting this, and hope it is what you want. + Tell Miss Judy Kean, who, I hear, is to spend Christmas with you, + not to get under this until I get there. + + “’Kent.’ + +“What can he mean? Judy Kean, is Kent coming here for Christmas? Answer +me.” + +But Judy only buried her crimson face in the big turkey’s bosom and +giggled. + +“Answer me, Judy Kean.” + +“How do I know? Am I your brother’s keeper?” + +“He couldn’t be coming or mother would have written me! I see he means +for you to wait for him until he ‘arrives’ in his profession. Oh, Judy, +Judy, I do hope you will! But come on now, we must take these things to +the Greens. Miss Grace is very busy with her preparations, while Dodo is +off for the day with young Andy and his Jap friend, revisiting their old +college, Exmoor. We must get the mistletoe hung; and the ham is to be +part of the party, I fancy. I am going to take them some of these +pickles, too, and half of my fruit cake. It is so big that it will take +us months to devour it, besides ruining our complexions.” + +The girls, weighed down with their heavy contributions—ham, pickle, +fruit cake and mistletoe—rang the bell at Professor Green’s house, +fronting on the campus. The door was quickly opened by Miss Alice Fern. +She eyed them haughtily and coldly, hardly responding to Molly’s +greeting and barely acknowledging the introduction to Judy, whom she +already knew, but refused to remember. + +“My cousin, Miss Green, is very busy and regrets she cannot speak to you +just now.” + +“Oh, I am sorry not to see her! I have some mistletoe that my brother +sent her from Kentucky, and Miss Kean and I were going to ask her to let +us hang it for her.” + +“You are very kind, but I am decorating the house for my cousins, and +can do it very well without any assistance from outside.” + +“Molly, we had better leave our packages and make a chastened +departure,” said Judy, the irrepressible. “We have some interior +decorations besides the mistletoe, Miss Fern, in the way of an old ham +and a fruit cake, and some Rosemary pickles. Are you also chairman of +the committee on that kind of interior decorations? If you are not, I +should think it were best for us to interview the secretary of the +interior, if we are not allowed to see the head of the department.” + +At that moment who should come bounding up the steps but Edwin Green +himself. + +“Good morning to both of you! I am so glad to see you back in +Wellington, Miss Kean. I have just come from the Quadrangle, where I +went to call on you, but saw Miss Oldham, who told me you and Miss Molly +were on your way to see my sister. Why don’t you come in? Grace is in +the pantry, preparing for the ‘astonishment party,’ as I am told Miss +Sen calls it. I will call her directly.” + +“Grace has asked to be excused to callers, Edwin,” said the stately Miss +Fern. + +“Nonsense, Alice, she was expecting Miss Brown to decorate the parlors, +and Miss Kean is not a stranger to any of us. Come in, come in,” and the +indignant professor ushered them into the parlor and went to call his +sister, confiding to her, as she hastened to greet the girls, that if +Alice Fern did not stop trying to run their affairs he was going to do +something desperate. + +“I am afraid you brought it on us by being too nice to her two years ago +when she first came home from abroad,” teased his sister; and he +remembered that he had been rather attentive to his fair cousin at a +time when Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky had had a little misunderstanding +with him. + +“How good of you, you dear, sweet girl, to have this mistletoe sent all +the way from Kentucky for our party, and what a wonderful piece of +walnut it is growing to, this great, knotted, knobby branch! But, Alice, +don’t break any of it off! You will ruin it.” Miss Green stopped Alice +just in time, as she had begun with rapid tugs to pull the mistletoe +from the branch that Kent had sawed off with such care, and to stick it +in vases among the holly, where it did not show to any advantage. “Of +course, it must be hung from the chandelier just as it is.” + +“Oh, very well, Cousin Grace; but it seems to me to be a very heavy +looking decoration.” And the young woman flounced off, leaving Molly and +Judy feeling very much mystified, to say the least. + +“Aunt Mary sent you a ham, Professor Green. I brought it to-day, +thinking maybe your sister would like it for part of the night’s +festivities.” + +“Not a bit of it. That ham is to be brought out when there are not so +many to devour it. I am not usually a greedy glutton, but beech-nut fed, +home-cured ham is too good for the rabble, and I am going to hide it +before Grace casts her eagle eye on it.” He accordingly picked it up and +pretended to conceal it from his smiling sister. + +“Well, anyhow, Miss Green, you will use my fruit cake for the party, +will you not?” begged Molly. + +“Oh, please don’t ask me to. I know there is nothing in the world so +good as fruit cake, and Edwin has told me of the wonders that come from +Aunt Mary’s kitchen. So if you don’t mind, Molly, I am going to keep my +cake for our private consumption. It would disappear like magic before +the young people to-night, and Edwin and I could have it for many nights +to come. Do you think I am as greedy as Edwin is with his ham?” + +Molly was very much amused, but her amusement was turned to +embarrassment when she heard Miss Fern say to her Cousin Edwin: “Miss +Brown seems to be trying very hard to give the party.” + +She did not hear Edwin’s answer, but noticed that he hugged his ham even +more fervently, it being, fortunately for him and his coat, well wrapped +in waxed paper. She also noticed that he went around and took out of the +vases the few pieces of mistletoe that his cousin had pulled from the +big bunch, and carefully wired them where they belonged on the walnut +branch, and then got a step ladder and tied the beautiful decoration to +the chandelier, while Judy, ignoring the stately Alice, bossed the job. + +“Miss Molly, did you know that Dicky Blount will be here to-night?” +asked the professor. “We can have some good music, which will be a +welcome addition to the program, I think.” + +“That is fine; but please give him a slice of ham. I feel as though some +were coming to him. Five pounds of Huyler’s was too much for the old ham +bone he got that memorable evening at Judith’s dinner. By the way, +Professor Green, I want to ask a favor of you and your sister.” + +“Granted before asked, as far as I am concerned, and Grace is usually +very amiable where you are in question,” said the eager Edwin. + +“Oh, it isn’t so much of a favor, and I have an idea I am doing you one +to ask it of you. My dear friend Melissa Hathaway has a most wonderful +voice, but no one ever knows it, as she is so reserved. I thought, maybe +to-night, you might persuade her to sing. She has some ballads that are +splendid for an Old English celebration.” + +“I should say we will ask her, and be too glad to! I am so pleased that +she is coming. She seemed rather doubtful whether she could or not.” + +“Oh, that was just clothes, and clever Nance solved the problem for her +just as she often has for me by making something out of nothing. When +you see our Melissa and realize that her dress is made of eight yards of +Seco silk at twenty cents a yard, you will think Nance is pretty +clever.” + + + + +CHAPTER V.—DODO’S SURPRISE PARTY. + + +The old red brick house, where Professor Green had his bachelor +quarters, had been put in good order for his sister’s régime, and with +the furniture that had been in storage for many years since the death of +their parents was made most attractive. It was designed for parties, +seemingly, as the whole lower floor could be turned practically into one +room. It had begun to snow, which made the glowing fire in the big hall +even more cheerful by contrast. + +“Whew! aren’t we festive?” exclaimed Dodo, bursting in at the front door +with Lawrence Upton, whom he had picked up at Exmoor. “Looks to me like +a ball, with all of this holly and the bare floors ready for dancing. +Andy and his little Jap are coming around this evening to see you, +Gracey, and I wish we could get some girls to have a bit of a dance. I +have been learning to dance along with my other arduous tasks at the +University, and I’d like to trip the light fantastic toe with some real +flesh and blood. I have had nothing but a rocking chair to practice with +for ever so long. I’ve got a little broken sofa that is great to ‘turkey +trot’ with.” + +“How about the old tune, ‘Waltzing ’Round with Sophy, Sophy Just +Seventeen,’ for that dance of yours?” laughed his older brother. “I +declare, Dodo, we ought to do better than that for you at a girls’ +college, even in holiday time. Let’s wait and see if young Andy comes, +and then with his help maybe we can scare up a girl or so.” + +Miss Grace thanked Edwin with an appreciative pat for keeping up the +game of surprise party. Just then Richard Blount came blowing in from +New York, and they all went in to supper, where the greedy Edwin +permitted them to have a try at his ham. + +“What a girl that Miss Brown is!” declared Dicky. “She seems to me to be +the most attractive blonde I have ever seen.” Richard, being very fair, +of course, had a leaning toward brunettes. “We were talking about her +the other evening at the Stewarts’, and we agreed that when all was told +she was about the best bred person we knew.” + +Miss Fern, to whom praise of Molly seemed to be bitterness and gall, +gave a sniff of her aristocratic nose and remarked: “There must have +been some question of Miss Brown’s breeding for you to have been +discussing it. I have always thought breeding was something taken for +granted.” + +“So it should be,” said Professor Green, laconically. + +“Do you know, it is a strange thing to me, but the only two persons in +the world that I know of who don’t like Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky are +our two cousins on different sides of the house—Judith Blount and you, +Cousin Alice.” + +This from Dodo, enfant terrible. Edwin turned the color of his old ham +and looked sternly at Dodo, who was entirely unconscious of having said +anything amiss. Miss Grace and Lawrence Upton giggled shamefully, while +Richard Blount hastened to say, “I think you are mistaken about Judith. +On the contrary, she now speaks very highly of Miss Brown, and looks +upon her as a very good friend.” + +“As for me,” said Alice, “I have never given Miss Brown a thought one +way or the other. I do not know her well enough to dislike her. She +impresses me as being rather pushing.” + +At this Miss Grace made a sign for them to rise, as she was anxious to +get the dining-room in readiness for the entertainment. + +“All of you boys had better put on your dress suits if there is a chance +of scaring up some dancers,” she tactfully suggested, so there was a +general rush for their rooms, and she was left in peace to get +everything ready for the surprise party. + +The guests, as had been agreed upon, arrived together. The old house was +suddenly filled with dancers enough to satisfy the eager Dodo, and dear +Mrs. McLean, ready to play dance music until they dropped. Dodo was +astonished enough to delight his sister, and the fun began. + +Dr. McLean and Mr. Oldham found much to talk about, so Nance felt that +her father was going to have a pleasant evening, and with a glad sigh +gave herself up to having a good time with the rest. Young Andy was not +long in attaching himself to her side, and they picked up conversation +where they had dropped it the year before and seemed to find each other +as agreeable as ever. + +All the girls looked lovely, as girls should when they have an evening +of fun ahead of them and plenty of partners to make things lively. +Several more young men came over from Exmoor, in response to a secret +invitation sent by Miss Grace through young Andy, so, as Judy put it, +“There were beaux to burn.” + +Judy was going in very much for the picturesque in dress, as is the +usual thing with art students, so she was very æsthetically attired in a +clinging green Liberty silk. Molly wore her bridesmaid blue organdy, +which was very becoming. Nance,—who always had the proper thing to wear +on every occasion without having to scrape around and take stitches and +let down hems, and find a petticoat to match, and for that reason had +time to do those necessary things for the other girls,—wore a pretty +little evening gown of white chiffon, and she looked so pretty herself +that Dr. McLean whispered to his wife that he took it all back about +young Andy’s having picked out a plain lassie. Little Otoyo had on the +handsomest dress of the evening, a rose pink silk embroidered in cherry +blossoms. The clever child had bought the dress in New York at a swell +shop and taken it to Japan with her, and there had the wonderful +embroidery put on it. Melissa was a revelation to herself and her +friends. The black Seco silk fitted her so well that Nance was really +elated over her success as a mantuamaker. Melissa had never gone +décolleté in her life, and at first the girls could hardly persuade her +to wear the low-necked dress; but when she saw Molly she was content. + +“Whatever Molly does is always right, and if she wears low neck then I +will, too,” said the artless girl. + +Her hair was rolled at the sides and done in a low knot on her neck. As +she came into the parlor Richard Blount, who was going over some music +at the piano, did not see her at first. Looking up to speak to Edwin +about a song he was to sing, he was struck dumb by her beauty. Clutching +Edwin he managed to gasp out, “Great Cæsar! who is she?” + +“She is not Medusa, my dear Dick. Don’t stand as though you had turned +to stone. It is Miss Hathaway, a friend of Miss Brown’s, and a very +interesting and original young woman, also from Kentucky, but from the +mountains. I will introduce you with pleasure.” + +Edwin Green did introduce him, and if Richard Blount took his eyes from +Melissa once during the evening he did it when no one was looking. + +Mr. Seshu, young Andy’s friend, proved to be a charming, educated young +man, who understood English perfectly and spoke with only an occasional +blunder. He made himself very agreeable to Molly, who was eager to talk +with him, hoping to find out if he were worthy of their little Otoyo. +The girls were almost certain that he had come to Wellington with the +idea of viewing Otoyo and passing on her as a possible wife. Otoyo had +let drop two or three remarks that made them feel that this was the +case. She was very much excited, and her little hands were like ice when +Molly took them in hers to tell her how sweet she looked and how +beautiful and becoming her dress was. It was a trying ordeal for any +girl, and Molly wondered that the little thing could go through with it, +but honorable father had thus decreed it and it must be borne. + +“I fancy it is better than having the marriage broker putting his finger +in, which is what would have happened if the Sens and Seshus had not +‘hugged the Christian faith’ and come to America,” whispered Molly to +Nance as they took off their wraps. + +“I’d see myself being pranced out like a colt, honorable father or not,” +said Nance. “I fancy he is very nice, however, or Andy would not be so +chummy with him.” + +Molly was amused at the farce of telling Mr. Seshu that one of his +country women was a student at Wellington, and she hoped to have the +pleasure of introducing them. He received the information with a polite +bow, and no more expression than a stone image, but with volubly +expressed thanks and eagerness for the introduction. + +“Our little Otoyo is very precious to us,” said Molly, “and we are very +proud of her progress in her studies. She takes a fine place with her +class, and will graduate this year with flying colors. She writes +perfect English, but there are times in conversation when adverbs are +too many for her. She is excited to-night over coming to a dance, having +but recently added dancing to her many accomplishments, and her adverbs +may get the better of her.” Molly was determined that the seeker for a +wife should not take the poor little thing’s excitement to himself. + +Mr. Seshu seemed more anxious to talk about Otoyo than to meet her. + +“And so you are trying to pump me about my little friend, are you, you +wily young Jap? Well, you have come to the right corner. I’ll tell you +all I can, and you shall hear such good things of Otoyo that you will +think I am a veritable marriage broker,” said Molly to herself. + +“Is Mees Sen of kindly heart and temper good, you say?” + +“She has the kindest heart in the world and a good temper, but she is +well able to stand up for herself when it is necessary.” + +“He shall not think he is getting nothing but a good family horse, but I +am going to try to let him understand that our little Otoyo has a high +spirit and is fit for something besides the plow,” added Molly to +herself. + +After much talk, in which Molly felt that she had been most diplomatic, +Mr. Seshu was finally presented to Miss Sen. Poor little Otoyo was not +as embarrassed as she would have been had she not learned to converse +with honorable gentlemen quite like American maidens. The practice she +had had with young Andy and Professor Green came in very well now, and +her anxious friends were delighted to see that she was holding her own +with her polished countryman, and that he seemed much interested in her +chatter. At the instigation of Molly and Nance, Andy McLean soon came up +and claimed Otoyo for a dance. She looked very coquettishly at her +Japanese suitor and immediately accepted, and Mr. Seshu was as +disconsolate as any other young man would have been to have a pleasant +companion snatched from him. + +“We’ll teach him a thing or two,” said our girls. “And just look how +well Otoyo is ‘step twoing,’ as she calls it, with Andy!” + +“While the dancers are resting we will have some music,” said the +gracious hostess. “I am going to ask you, Miss Hathaway, to sing for +us.” + +Melissa looked astonished that she should be chosen, but, with that +poise and dignity that years in society cannot give some persons, she +agreed to sing what she could if Molly would accompany her on the +guitar. + +“Sing ‘Lord Ronald and Fair Eleanor,’” whispered Molly. “I want +Professor Green to hear it.” + +[Illustration: The two Kentucky girls made a wonderfully charming +picture.—Page 252.] + +The two Kentucky girls made a wonderfully charming picture as they took +their places to do their part toward entertaining the guests—Molly so +fair and slender in her pretty blue dress, with her hair “making +sunshine in a shady place,” seated with the guitar, while Melissa, tall +and stately, with figure more developed, in her clinging black dress +stood near her. Judy was so overcome at the picturesque effect that she +began to make rapid sketching movements in the air as was her wont. + +“Oh, what don’t we see when we haven’t got a gun! I’d give anything for +a piece of charcoal and some paper.” + +“I don’t know all of this song, but I shall sing all I do. I learned it +from my grandmother, and she learned it from hers. This is all Granny +knows, but she says her grandmother had many more verses,” said Melissa +as Molly struck the opening chords of the accompaniment. + + “So she dressed herself in scarlet red, + And she dressed her maid in green, + And every town that they went through + They took her to be some queen, queen, queen, + They took her to be some queen. + + “‘Lord Ronald, Lord Ronald, is this your bride + That seems so plaguey brown? + And you might have married as fair skinned a girl + As ever the sun shone on, on, on, + As ever the sun shone on.’ + + “The little brown girl, she had a penknife, + It was both long and sharp; + She stuck it in fair Eleanor’s side + And it entered at the heart, heart, heart, + It entered at the heart. + + “Lord Ronald, he took her by her little brown hand + And led her across the hall; + And with his sword cut off her head, + And kicked it against the wall, wall, wall, + And kicked it against the wall. + + “‘Mother, dear mother, come dig my grave; + Dig it both wide and deep. + By my side fair Eleanor put, + And the little brown girl at my feet, feet, feet, + And the little brown girl at my feet.’” + + * * * * * + +As the beautiful girl finished the plaintive air there was absolute +stillness for a few seconds. The audience was too deeply moved to speak. +Melissa’s voice was sweet and full and came with no more effort than the +song of the mocking bird heard in her own valleys at dawn. She took high +note or low with the same ease that she had stooped and lifted her +little hair trunk at Wellington station. + + * * * * * + +The song in itself was very remarkable, being one of the few original +ballads evidently brought to America by an early settler, and handed +down from mother to daughter through the centuries. Edwin Green +recognized it, and noted the changes from the original from time to +time. Richard Blount was the first to find his tongue, although he was +the one most deeply moved by the performance. + +“My, that was fine!” was all he could say, but he broke the spell of +silence, and there was a storm of applause. Melissa bowed and smiled, +pleased that she met with their approval, but with no airs or +affectation. + +“She has the stage manner of a great artist who is above caring for what +the gallery thinks, but has sung for Art’s sake, and, as an artist, +knows her work is good,” said Richard to Professor Green. “Miss +Hathaway, you will sing again for us, please. I can’t remember having +such a treat as you have just given us, and I have been to every opera +in New York for six years.” + +The demand was general, so Melissa graciously complied. This time she +gave “The Mistletoe Bough.” + + “The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, + And the holly branch shone on the old oak wall; + And all within were blithe and gay, + Keeping their Christmas holiday. + Oh, the mistletoe bough, + Oh, the mistletoe bough.” + +And so on, through the many stanzas of the fine old ballad, telling of +the bride who cried, “I’ll hide, I’ll hide,” and then of the search and +how they never found the beautiful bride until years had passed away, +and then, on opening the old chest in the attic, her bones were +discovered and the wedding veil. + +When the applause subsided, Miss Grace asked Richard Blount to sing. + +“I’ll do it, Cousin Grace, but I have never felt more modest about my +little accomplishments. Miss Hathaway has taken all the wind out of my +sails. I am going to sing a little thing that I clipped out of a +newspaper and put to music. ‘It is a poor thing, but mine own.’ I think +it is appropriate for this party, and hope you will agree with me.” + +“Now, Dicky, you know we love your singing, and because Miss Hathaway +has charmed us is no reason why you cannot charm us all over. Caruso can +sing, as well as Sembrich,” said Miss Grace. + +Richard Blount had a good baritone voice, and sang with a great deal of +taste; and he played on the piano with real genius. With a few brilliant +runs he settled down to the simple, sweet air he had composed for the +little bit of fugitive verse, and then began to sing: + + “The holly is a soldier bold, + Arrayed in tunic green, + His slender sword is never sheathed, + But always bared and keen. + He stands amid the winter snows + A sentry in the wood,— + The scarlet berries on his boughs + Are drops of frozen blood. + + “The mistletoe’s a maiden fair, + Enchanted by the oak, + Who holds her in his hoary arms, + And hides her in his cloak. + She knows her soldier lover waits + Among the leafless trees, + And, weeping in the bitter cold, + Her tears to jewels freeze. + + “But at the holy Christmas-tide, + Blessed time of all the year, + The evil spirits lose their power, + And angels reappear. + They meet beside some friendly hearth, + While softly falls the snow— + The soldier Holly and his bride, + The mystic Mistletoe.” + +Richard had been delighted by Melissa’s performance, and now she +returned the compliment by being so carried away by his singing and the +song that she forgot all shyness and reserve and openly congratulated +him, praising his music with so much real appreciation and fervor that +the young man was persuaded to sing again. He sang the beautiful Indian +song of Cadman’s, “The Moon Hangs Low,” and was beginning the opening +chords to “The Land of Sky-blue Water,” when there came a sharp ringing +of the bell, followed by some confusion in the hall as the door was +opened and a gust of wind blew in the fast falling snow. Then a man’s +voice was heard inquiring for Professor Green. + + + + +CHAPTER VI.—MORE SURPRISES. + + +“Whose voice is that?” exclaimed Molly and Judy in unison; and without +waiting to be answered they rushed into the hall to find Kent Brown +being warmly greeted by Professor Green. Before he had time to shake the +snow from his broad shoulders, Molly seized him and he seized Judy, and +they had a good old three-cornered Christmas hug. + +“Did you get my note tied to the mistletoe?” + +“Yes, you goose; but we did not know you were really coming. I thought +you were speaking in parables,” said Molly, but Judy only blushed. + +“Well, it is powerful fine to get here. My train is four hours late.” + +“I know you are tired and hungry,” said Miss Green, who was as cordial +as her brother in her reception of the young Kentuckian. “But where is +your grip, Mr. Brown?” + +“Oh, I left it at the inn in the village. I could not think of piling in +on you in this way without any warning.” + +“Well, Edwin will ‘phone for it immediately. You Southern people think +you are the only ones who can put yourselves out for guests. It would be +a pretty thing for one of Mrs. Brown’s sons to be in Wellington and not +at our house.” + +So Kent was taken into the Greens’ house with as much cordiality and +hospitality as Chatsworth itself could have shown. The odor of coffee +soon began to invade the hall and parlors, and in a little while the +dining-room doors were thrown open and the feasting began. Miss Green +was an excellent housekeeper, and knew how to cater to young people’s +tastes as well as Mrs. Brown herself, so the food was plentiful and +delicious. Molly noticed with a smile that some of the precious ham was +smuggled to the plates of Dr. and Mrs. McLean and Mr. Oldham, where it +was duly appreciated, and that later on the favored three were regaled +with slices of the fruit cake. + +Kent found a cozy seat for Judy by the hall fire, and soon joined her +with trays of supper. + +“Oh, Miss Judy, it has been years since last July. I have worked as hard +as a man could, hoping to make the time fly, but it hasn’t done much +good,—except that it made my firm suggest that I let up for a few days +at Christmas, and here I am! I am working awfully hard trying to learn +to do water coloring of the architectural drawings. I wish I had you to +help me, you are so clever. I am hoping to get to New York or Paris some +day to learn the tricks of the trade, but in the meantime there are lots +of things to learn in Louisville; and I am getting more money for my +work than I did. Did Molly give you my message tied to the mistletoe?” + +“Yes, Kent.” + +“Will you wait? I was speaking in parables. I think somehow that I must +arrive a little more, before I can catch you under the mistletoe; and +you must do your work, too. Oh, Judy, it is hard to be so wise and +circumspect! But will you wait?” + +“Yes, Kent. I am working hard, too, harder than I have ever worked in my +life. I was terribly disappointed when papa would not let me go to Paris +this winter, but insisted on the year of hard drawing in New York, to +test myself and find myself, as it were, and I have been determined to +make good. I am drawing all the time, and you know that is virtuous when +I am simply demented on the subject of color. I let myself work in color +on Saturday in Central Park, but the rest of the time it is charcoal +from the antique or from life, with classes in composition and design. +There is no use in talking about being a decorator if you can’t draw. I +hope to be in Paris next year, and then I shall reap my reward and +simply wallow in color.” + +When supper was over, they were all called on to stand up for the +Virginia Reel, which Mrs. McLean played with such spirit that Mr. Oldham +and Dr. McLean could not keep their feet still; and before the +astonished eyes of Edwin Green and Andy McLean, who had other plans, Mr. +Oldham seized Molly and Dr. McLean Nance, and they danced down the +middle and back again with as much spirit as they had ever shown in +their youth. + +“It takes the old timers to dance the old dances, hey, Mr. Oldham?” said +the panting doctor as he came up the middle smiling and cutting pigeon +wings, while Nance arose to the occasion and “chasseed” to his steps +like any belle of the sixties. Even Miss Alice Fern forgot her dignity +and romped, but she was very gay, as Edwin had sought her out when Molly +danced off with Mr. Oldham. He had remembered that he had been rather +remiss in his attentions to his fair cousin. + +How they did dance!—and all of the extra men danced with each other, so +there were no wall flowers. Richard Blount claimed Melissa as a partner, +and they delighted the crowd by singing as they danced a song that +Melissa had taught Richard, as she told him of some of the mountain +dance games, the words fitting themselves to Mrs. McLean’s lively tunes. + + “‘Old man, old man, let me have your daughter?’ + ‘Yes, young man, for a dollar and a quarter. + Pick up her duds and pitch ’em up behind her.’ + ‘Here’s your money, old man, I’ve got your daughter.’” + +After the dance they drew around the open fire in the hall and roasted +chestnuts and popped corn and told stories, and had a very merry +old-fashioned time capping quotations. And finally the one thing +wanting, as Molly thought, came to pass, and Professor Green read +Dickens’ Christmas Carol just as he had three years before, when he and +his sister gave Molly the surprise party at Queen’s in her Sophomore +year. + +“At the risk of making myself verra unpopular, I am afraid I shall have +to say it is time for all of us to be in bed,” said Mrs. McLean, when +the professor closed the worn old copy of Dickens. + +“Oh, not ’til we have had a little more dancing, please, dear Mrs. +McLean,” came in a chorus from the young people; and Professor Green +told her that it would be a pity to throw Dodo back on a rocking chair +for a partner before he had had a little more practice with flesh and +blood. So up they all sprang, and with Miss Grace at the piano, to +relieve the good-natured Mrs. McLean, who had thrummed her fingers sore, +off they went into more waltzes and two-steps, even the shy Melissa +dancing with Richard Blount as though she had been at balls every night +of her life. Otoyo and Mr. Seshu hopped around together as though +“step-twoing” and “dance-rounding” were the national dances of Japan. + +And so ended the delightful surprise party. Before they departed, Dr. +McLean drew his wife under the mistletoe and kissed her. + +“Just to show you bashful young fellows how it is done,” said the jovial +doctor. + +“And I will give the lassies a lesson in how to accept such public +demonstration,” said his blushing wife, and she suited the action to the +word by giving him a playful slap, whereupon he kissed her again, but +instead of another slap she hugged him in return, and there was a +general laugh. + +“I did that just to show the indignant lassies that they must not hold +with their anger too long. A kiss under the mistletoe has never yet been +offered as an insult, and the forward miss is not the one to get the +kiss.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII.—DREAMS AND REALITIES. + + +The holidays were all too soon over. Much feasting went on, what with +Molly’s big turkey and her fruit cake and Rosemary pickles; and the +invitations to Mrs. McLean’s and Miss Walker’s; and Otoyo’s Japanese +spread, where she and Melissa charmed the company with the beautifully +arranged rooms and the dainty, delicious refreshments. Mr. Seshu, +throughout, was very attentive to his little countrywoman, and the girls +decided that he was in love with her just like any ordinary American +might be. + +“I am so glad it is coming about this way,” said Molly. “Just think how +hard it might have been for our little Otoyo, now that she has been in +this country long enough to see how we do such things, had she been +compelled, by filial feeling, to marry some one whom she did not love +and who did not love her. I think she is all over the sentimental +attachment she used to have for the unconscious Andy, don’t you, Nance?” + +“I fancy she is,” said the far from unconscious Nance, who always had a +heightened color when young Andy’s name got into the conversation. “I +don’t think she ever really cared for Andy. He was just the first and +only young man who was ever nice to her, and it went to her head. Andy +is so kind and good natured.” + +“You forget Professor Green. He was always careful and attentive, and +Otoyo would chatter like a magpie with him.” + +“Oh, but he is so much older!” And then Nance wished she had bitten out +her tongue, as Molly looked hurt and sad. + +“Professor Green is not so terribly old! I think he is much more +agreeable than callow youths who have no conversation beyond their own +affairs.” + +“Now, Molly Brown, I didn’t mean to say a thing to hurt your feelings or +to imply that Professor Green was anything but perfection. He is not too +old for y—us, I mean; but Otoyo is like a child.” + +“I am ashamed of myself, Nance, but I do get kind of tired of +everybody’s taking the stand that Professor Green is so old. He is the +best man friend I ever had, and—and——” But Nance kissed her fondly, and +she did not have to go on with her sentence, which was lucky, as she did +not know how she was going to finish it without committing herself. + +Kent had to fly back to Louisville to work at his chosen profession and +try to learn how to do water color renderings of the architectural +elevations; Judy back to New York to dig at her charcoal drawings and +dream of swimming in color, with Kent striking out beside her; Dodo +again at Johns Hopkins, learning much about medicine and how to “turkey +trot” with a broken sofa; young Andy and Mr. Seshu at Harvard, studying +the laws of their country, for was not Mr. Seshu fast becoming an +American? They had their dreams, too, these two young men. Andy was +looking forward to the day when he would not have to stop talking to +Nance just at the most interesting turn of the argument, but could stay +right along with her forever and ever,—and sure he was that they would +never talk out! Mr. Seshu’s dreams—but, after all, what do we know of +his dreams? Certain we are that he looked favorably on the little Miss +Sen, and that honorable Father Sen and honorable Father Seshu had a long +and satisfactory talk in the shop in Boston with the beautiful Japanese +prints hanging all around them, representing in themselves money enough +to make the prospective young couple very wealthy. + +Mr. Oldham went back to Vermont, also dreaming that the day might come +when his little Nance would keep house for him, and he could leave the +hated boarding house, and have a real home. Richard Blount returned to +New York, dreaming, too, and his dream was of the beautiful mountain +girl with the dignity and poise of a queen, eyes like the clear brown +pools of autumn and a purposeful look on her young face that showed even +a casual observer that she had a mission in life. + +Mid-year examinations came and went. Melissa and Otoyo came through +without a scratch, which made Molly rejoice as though it had been her +own ordeal. + +Domestic Science grew more thrilling; so interesting, indeed, that Molly +could not decide for a whole day whether she would rather be a +scientific cook or a great literary success. But a note from a magazine +editor accepting her “Basket Funeral” and asking for more similar +stories decided her in favor of literature. And on the same day, too, +Professor Edwin Green said to her, “Please, Miss Molly, don’t learn how +to cook so well that you forget how to make popovers. I am afraid all of +these scientific rules you are learning will upset the natural-born +knowledge that you already possess, and your spontaneous genius will be +choked by an academic style of cooking that would be truly deplorable.” + +Molly laughingly confided in the professor that she would not give one +of Aunt Mary’s hot turnovers for all of Miss Morse’s scientifically made +bread. + +“I know her bread is perfect, but it lacks a certain taste and life, and +is to the real thing what a marble statue is to flesh and blood. Judy +described it, in speaking of the food at a lunchroom for self-supporting +women that she occasionally goes to in New York, as being ‘too chaste.’” + +“That is exactly it, too chaste,” agreed Professor Green. + +“Of course, cooking is a small part of what we learn in Domestic +Science,—food values, economic housekeeping, etc. It really is a very +broad and far-reaching science.” + +They were in the professor’s study, where Molly had come to tell him the +good news about her story, and to ask his advice concerning what other +of her character sketches she should send to the magazine. She was +wearing her cap and gown, as she was just returning from a formal +college function. When the young man greeted her, he had quickly rolled +up something, looking a little shamefaced. But as they talked, he rolled +and unrolled and finally determined to show the papers to her. + +“Miss Molly, Kent has sent me the plans for my bungalow that I +commissioned him at Christmas to get busy on. I wonder if you would care +to see them.” + +“Of course I’d be charmed to, Professor Green. There is nothing in the +world that is more interesting to me than plans of a house. Kent and I +have been drawing them ever since we could hold pencils. Kent was the +master hand at outside effects, and I was the housekeeper, who must have +the proper pantry arrangements and conveniences.” + +“Well, please pass on these. The outside effects seem lovely to me, but +I cannot tell about the interior.” + +Molly seated herself and pored over the prints, soon mastering the +details with a practiced eye, noting dimensions and windows and doors. + +“I think it is splendid, but do you really want my criticism?” + +“I certainly do, more than any one’s.” + +“Well, there is waste space here that should be put in the store room. +This little passage from dining-room to kitchen is entirely unnecessary +and should be incorporated in the butler’s pantry. These twin doors in +the hall, one leading to the attic and one to the cellar, are no doubt +very pretty, but they are not wide enough. An attic is for trunks, and +how could one larger than a steamer trunk get through such a narrow +door? A cellar is certainly for barrels and the like, and I am sure it +would be a tug to pull a barrel through this little crack of a door. I’d +allow at least nine inches more on each door, and that means a foot and +a half off something. Let me see. It seems a pity to take it off of the +living-room, and rather inhospitable to rob the guest chamber. + +“Aunt Clay always puts the new towels in the guest chamber for the +company to break in. She says company can’t kick about the slick +stiffness of them, and somehow it would seem rather Aunt Clayish to take +that eighteen inches off of the poor unsuspecting guests, whoever they +may be.” + +Molly sat a long time studying the plans, and she looked so sweet and so +earnest that Edwin Green thought with regret of the tacit promise he had +made Mrs. Brown: to let Molly stay a child for another year. How he +longed to know his fate! How simple it would be while she was showing +her interest in his little bungalow to ask her to tell him if she +thought she could ever make it her little home, too! Was she the child +her mother thought her? Did she think he was a “laggard in love,” and +despise him for a “faint heart”? Or could it be that she thought of him +only as an old and trusted friend, too ancient to contemplate as +anything but a professor of literature, and, at that, one who was +building a home in which to spend his rapidly declining years? + +“Time will tell,” sighed the poor, conscientious young man, “but if I am +letting my happiness slip through my fingers from a mistaken sense of +duty, then I don’t deserve anything but ‘single blessedness’.” + +“I have it!” exclaimed Molly. “Have the cellar entrance outside by the +kitchen door with a gourd pergola over both, and take this inside space +where the cellar door and steps were to be for a large closet in the +poor guests’ room, to make up to them for coming so near to losing a +foot and a half off of their room.” + +“That suits me, if it suits you. Is there anything else?” + +“If you won’t tell Kent it is my suggestion, I do think the bathroom +door ought to open in and not out. He and I have disagreed about doors +ever since we were children. + +“Do you know what plan Kent is making for mother and me? He wants us to +go abroad next winter. Sue is to be married to her Cyrus in June, muddy +lane and all; Paul and John are in Louisville most of the time, now that +Paul is on a morning paper and has to work at night, and John is +building up his practice and has to be on the spot; Kent hopes to be +able to take a course at the Beaux Arts next winter if he can save +enough money, and that would leave no one at Chatsworth but mother and +me. There is no reason why we should not go, and you know I am excited +about it; and, as for mother, she says she is like our country cousin +who came to the exposition in Louisville and said in a grandiloquent +tone, ‘I am desirous to go elsewhere and view likewise.’ Mother and I +have never traveled anywhere, and it would be splendid for us. Don’t you +think so?” + +“I certainly do, especially as next year is my sabbatical year of +teaching, and I expect to have a holiday myself and do some traveling. I +have something to dream of now, and that is to meet you and your mother +in Europe and ‘go elsewhere and view likewise’ in your company!” + +“Oh, Mother and I will be so glad to see you,” exclaimed Molly. “I have +brought a letter from Mildred to read to you, Professor Green. It is so +like Mildred and tells so much of her life in Iowa that I thought it +might interest you.” + +“Indeed it will. I have thought so often of that delightful young couple +and the wonderful wedding in the garden.” + +So Molly began: + + “‘Dearest Sister:—You complain of having only second-hand letters + from me and you are quite right. There is nothing more irritating + than letters written to other people and handed down. Your letters + should belong to you, and you only, just as much as your + tooth-brush. You remember how mad it used to make Ernest to have his + letters sent to Aunt Clay, and how he would put in bad words just to + keep Mother from handing them on. + + ‘Crit and I are more and more pleased with our little home out here + in this Western town (not that they call themselves Western, and on + the map they are really more Eastern than Western). The people are + lovely, and so neighborly and hospitable. It is a good thing for + Southern people to get away from home occasionally and come to the + realization that they have not got a corner on hospitality. + Entertaining out here really means trouble to the hostess, as there + are no servants and the ladies of the house have all the work to do; + and still they entertain a great deal and do it very well, too. + + ‘I have never seen anything like the system the women have evolved + for their work. For instance: they wash on Monday morning and have a + “biled dinner.” When washing is over, they are too tired to do any + more work, so they usually go calling or have club meetings or some + form of amusement to rest up for Tuesday, ironing day. Wednesday, + they bake. Thursday is the great day for teas and parties. Friday is + thorough cleaning day, and I came very near making myself very + unpopular because in my ignorance, when I first came here, I + returned some calls on that fateful day. I was greeted by irate + dames at every door, their heads tied up in towels and their faces + very dirty. I could hardly believe they were the same elegant ladies + I had met at the Thursday reception, beautifully gowned and showing + no marks of toil. On Saturday they bake again and get ready for + Sunday, and on Sunday no one ever thinks of staying away from church + because of cooking or house work. + + ‘I am so glad our mother taught us how to work some, at least not to + be afraid of work, but I do wish I had been as fond of the kitchen + as you always were and had learned how to cook from Aunt Mary. My + sole culinary accomplishment was cloudbursts, and if Crit is an + angel he has to have something to go on besides cloudbursts. The + restaurants and hotels here are impossible and there are no boarding + houses. There are only twenty servants in the whole town and they + already have a waiting list of persons who want them when the + present employers are through with them, which only death or removal + from the town would make possible, so you see we have to keep house. + I am learning to cook, and simply adore Friday when I can tie up my + head and pull the house to pieces and make the dust fly. Crit calls + me a Sunbonnet Baby because I am so afraid of not keeping to the + schedule set down for me by my neighbors. Crit has bought me every + patent convenience on the market to make the work easy: washing + machine, electric iron and toaster, fancy mop wringer, and a dust + pan that can stand up by itself and let you sweep the dirt in + without stooping, vacuum carpet cleaner (but no carpets as yet), + window washer and dustless dusters, fireless cooker and a steamer + that can cook five things at once and blows a little whistle when + the water gets low in the bottom vessel. I have no excuse for not + being a good cook except that I lack the genius that you have. I + thought I never should learn how to make bread but I have mastered + it at last and can turn out a right good loaf and really lovely + turnovers. + + ‘Thank you so much for your hints from your Domestic Science class. + I really got a lot from them. I had an awfully funny time with some + bread last week. You see, having once learned how to make it, it was + terribly mortifying to mix up a big batch and have it simply refuse + to rise. I didn’t want Crit to see it, so I took it out in the + backyard and buried it in some sand the plasterers had left there. + Crit came home to dinner and went out in the yard to see if his + radishes were up and came in much excited: said he had found a new + mushroom growth (you remember he was always interested in mushrooms + and knew all kinds of edible varieties that we had never heard of). + Sure enough there was a brand new variety. That hateful old dough + had come up at last! The hot sand had been too much for it and it + was rising to beat the band. I was strangely unsympathetic with Crit + and his mushroom cult, so he came in to dinner. As soon as Crit went + back to work, I went out and covered up the disgraceful failure with + a lot more sand, hammered it down well and put a chicken coop on it, + determined to get rid of it; but surely murder must be like yeast + and it will out. When Crit came back to supper that old leaven had + found its way through the cracks under the chicken coop and a little + spot was appearing to the side of the sand pile. Crit was awfully + excited and began to pull off pieces to send to Washington for the + Government to look into the specimens, and I had to give in and tell + him the truth. He almost died laughing and decided to send some + anyhow, just to see what Uncle Sam would make out of it. The report + has not come yet. I have lots more things to tell you about my + housekeeping but I must stop now. I am so sorry I can not come home + to Sue’s wedding, but it is such an expensive trip out here that I + do not see how Crit and I can manage it just now. Of course Crit + could not come anyhow as the bridge would surely fall down if he + were not here to hold it up, and even if we could afford it I should + hate to leave him more than I can tell you. Oh, Molly, he is so + precious! We have been married almost a year now and when I was + cross about his mushrooms was the nearest we have ever come to a + misunderstanding. That is doing pretty well for me who am a born + pepper pot. It is all Crit, who is an angel, as I believe I remarked + before. Please write to me all about your class reunion, and give my + love to that adorable Julia Kean, and also remember me to that nice + Professor Green. + + ‘Your ’special sister, + Mildred Brown Rutledge.’” + +“What a delightful letter and how happy they are,” said the professor, +fingering his roll of blue prints with a sad smile. “It was good of her +to remember me. Please give her my love when you write.” + +“I did not tell you quite all she said,” confessed Molly, opening the +letter again and reading. “She says, ‘remember me to that nice Professor +Green, who is almost as lovely as Crit,’” and Molly beat a hasty +retreat. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII.—THE OLD QUEEN’S CROWD. + + +“Nance, do you fancy this has really been such a quiet, uneventful +college year, or are we just so old and settled that we don’t know +excitement when we see it? It has been a very happy time, and I feel +that I have got hold of myself somehow, and am able to make use of the +hard studying I have done at college. I know you will laugh when I tell +you that one reason I have been so happy is that I have not had to +bother myself over Math. No one can ever know how I did hate and despise +that subject.” + +“You poor old Molly, I know it was hard on you. You were in good +company, anyhow, in your hatred of it. You remember Lord Macauley hated +it, too, but for that very reason was determined ‘to take no second +place’ in it. You always managed to get good marks after that first +condition in our Freshman year. I often laugh when I think of you with +your feet in hot water and your head tied up in a cold wet towel, trying +to cure a cold and at the same time grasp higher mathematics,” answered +the sympathetic Nance, looking lovingly at her roommate. The girls found +themselves looking at each other very often with sad, loving glances. +Their partnership was rapidly approaching its close. They could not be +room-mates forever and college must end some time. + +“The funny thing about me and Math. is that I never did really and truly +understand it,” laughed Molly. “I learned how to work one example as +another was worked, but it was never with any real comprehension. +Nothing but memory got me through. I remember so well when I was a +little girl, going to the district school. I came home in tears because +division of decimals had stumped me. My father found me weeping my soul +out with a sticky slate and pencil grasped to my panting breast. ‘What’s +the matter, little daughter?’ he said. ‘Oh, father, I can’t see how a +great big number can go into a little bits of number and make a bigger +number still.’ ‘Well, you poor lamb, don’t bother your little red head +about it any more, but run and get yourself dressed and come drive to +town with me. I am going to take you to see Jo Jefferson play “Cricket +on the Hearth.”’ I shall never forget that play, but I never have really +understood decimals; and you may know what higher mathematics meant to +me.” + +“Speaking of a quiet year, Molly, I have an idea one reason it has been +so uneventful is that our dear old Judy has not been here to get herself +into hot water, sometimes pulling in her devoted friends after her when +they tried to fish her out. Won’t it be splendid to see all the old +Queen’s crowd again: Judy and Katherine and Edith, Margaret and Jessie? +I wonder if they have changed much! I am so glad they are coming to the +meeting of the alumnæ this year, and that we are here without having to +come!” + +“I do hope my box from home will get here in time for the first night of +the gathering of the clan. I know it will seem more natural to them if +we can get up a little feast. I want all of the girls to know Melissa. +Isn’t she happy at the prospect of her dear teacher’s coming? Do you +know the lady’s name? I never can remember to ask Melissa, who always +speaks of her with clasped hands and a rapt expression as ‘teacher’.” + +“Yes,” answered Nance. “She has a wonderful name for one who is giving +up her life working for mankind: Dorothea Allfriend, all-friendly gift +of God. I believe her name must have influenced her from the beginning.” + +“We must ask her to our spread on Melissa’s account,” cried the +impetuously hospitable Molly. “That makes ten, counting the eight +Queen’s girls, and while we are about it, let’s have——” + +“Molly Brown, stop right there. If you ask a lot of outsiders, how can +we have the intimate old talk that we are all of us hungering for? Of +course we can’t leave Melissa out, as she has been too close to us all +winter to do anything without her, and her friend must come, too; but in +the name of old Queen’s, let that suffice.” + +“Right, as usual, Nance, but inviting is such a habit with all of my +family that it almost amounts to a vice. Of course we don’t want +outsiders, and I shall hold a tight rein on my inclination to entertain +until after the fourth of June. If there are any scraps left, I might +give another party.” + +“There won’t be any, unless all of us have fallen in love and lost our +appetites.” + +The fourth came at last, and with it our five old friends: the Williams +sisters, Katherine and Edith, as amusing as ever, still squabbling over +small matters but agreeing on fundamentals, which they had long ago +decided was the only thing that mattered; Margaret Wakefield, with the +added poise and gracious manner that a winter in Washington society +would be apt to give one; Jessie Lynch, as pretty as ever but still +Jessie Lynch, not having married the owner of the ring, as we had rather +expected her to do when she left college; and our dear Judy, in the +seventh heaven of bliss because The American Artists’ exhibition had +accepted and actually hung, not very far above the line, a small picture +done in Central Park at dusk. + +The meeting at No. 5, Quadrangle, was a joyous one. Everybody talked at +once, except of course little Otoyo, whose manners were still so good +that she never talked when any one else had the floor; but her smile was +so beaming that Edith declared it was positively deafening. + +“Silence, silence!” and Margaret, the one-time class president, rapped +for order. “I am so afraid I will miss something and I can’t hear a +thing. Let’s get the budget of news and find out where we stand, and +then we can go on with the uproar.” + +“Well, what is the matter with refreshments?” inquired the ever-ready +Molly. “That will quiet some of us at least. But before we begin, I must +ask you, Otoyo, where Melissa is. She and her friend Miss Allfriend +understood the time, did they not?” + +“Yes, they understood and send you most respectful greetings, but my +dearly friend, Melissa, says she well understands that the meeting of +these eight old friends is equally to her meeting of her one friend, and +she will not intrusive be until we our confidences have bartered, and +then she will bring Miss Allfriend to meet the companions of Miss Brown +and Miss Oldham.” + +“I haven’t heard who Melissa is, but she must be fine to show so much +tact,” exclaimed Katherine. “I am truly glad we are alone. I am bursting +with news and drying up for news, and any outsider would spoil it all.” + +Nance gave a triumphant glance in Molly’s direction, and Molly stopped +carving the ham long enough to give an humble bow to Nance before +remarking, “You girls are sure to adore my Melissa, but if Katherine is +already bursting with news, suppose she begins before I get the ham +carved. What is it, Kate? A big novel already accepted?” + +“No, but a good job as reader for a publisher, and two magazine stories +in current numbers, and an order for some college notes for a big Sunday +sheet. Isn’t that going some for the homeliest one of the Williams +sisters? But that is nothing. My news is as naught to what is to come. +Have none of you noticed the blushing Edith? Look at her fluffy +pompadour, her stylish sleeves, her manicured nails. Compare them with +those of the old Edith. Remember her lank hair and out-of-date blouses +and finger nails gnawed down to the quick. Note the change and guess and +guess again.” + +“Edith, Edith! Oh, you fraud!” in chorus from the astonished girls. + +“Is it a man?” + +“Who is he?” + +“When is it to be?” + +They certainly guessed right the very first time. Edith Williams was to +be the first of the old guard to marry, and she was certainly the last +to expect such a thing. She took the astonishment of her friends very +coolly and accepted their congratulations without the least +embarrassment. + +“I can’t see what you are making such a fuss about. You must have known +all the time that my hatred of the male sex was a pose, just adopted +because I had a notion that no man in his senses could ever see anything +in me to care for; or if one did, he would be such a poor thing that I +could not care for him. But,” with a complacent smile, “I find I was +mistaken.” + +“Tell us all about him, do please, Edith. I know he is splendid or you +would not want him,” said Molly, handing Edith the first plate piled +with all dainties. + +“I can’t eat and talk, too, so I’ll cut my love affair short. His name +is plain James Wilson, but he is not plain, at all. He is very tall, +very good looking and very clever. He is dramatic critic on a big New +York paper and has written a play that is to be produced in the fall. +Oh, girls, I can’t keep it up any longer! I mean, this seeming coldness. +He is splendid and I am very happy!” With which outburst, she attempted +to hide her blushes in her plate, but Katherine rescued it, saying +sternly, “Don’t ruin the food, but effuse on your napkin,” which made +them laugh and restored Edith’s equanimity. Then the girls learned that +she was to be married in two weeks and go to Nova Scotia on her +honeymoon. + +“Next!” rapped Margaret. “How about you, my Jessica, and what have you +done with your winter?” + +Pretty Jessie blushed and held up her fingers, bare of rings. “Not even +any borrowed ones?” laughed Judy. “Why, Jessie, I believe you have +sought the safety that lies in numbers, and have so many beaux you can’t +decide among them.” + +“I have had a glorious debutante winter and do not feel much like +settling down as yet,” confessed the little beauty. “There is lots of +time for serious thoughts like matrimony later on.” + +“So there is, my child, but don’t do like the poor princess who was so +choosey that she ended by having to take the crooked stick. My Jessica +must have the best stick in the forest, if she must have any at all,” +said Margaret, putting her arm around her friend. “For my part, I have +had a busy winter and haven’t felt the need of a stick, straight or +crooked. What with entertaining for my father and keeping up the social +end necessary for a public man, and a general welfare movement I am +interested in, and the Suffrage League, I have often wished I had an +astral body to help me out. Mind you, I am not opposed to matrimony, but +I am just not interested in it for myself.” + +“That is a dangerous sentiment to express,” teased Judy. “I find that a +statement like that from a handsome young woman usually means she is +taking notice. Come now, Margaret, if, instead of having an astral body +to do part of the work you are planning for yourself, you had been born +triplets, you would have let one of you get married, wouldn’t you? Now +‘fess up. Margaret could attend the suffrage meetings, and Maggie could +look after the child’s welfare, while dear, handsome, wholesome Peggy +could be the beloved wife of some promising public man. I don’t believe +Margaret or Maggie would mind at all if Peggy had to hurry home from the +meetings to have the house attractive for a brilliant young Senator from +the western states whom we shall call ‘the Baby of the Senate’ just for +euphony, and who would come dashing up to the door in his limousine +whistling ‘Peg o’ my Heart’ in joyful anticipation of his welcome.” + +Margaret, the stately and composed, was blushing furiously at Judy’s +nonsense. + +“Judy Kean, who has been telling you things?” + +“No one, I declare, Margaret. I was just visualizing. I wouldn’t have +presumed to hit the nail on the head had I realized I was doing it. You +must forgive me, dear, but I am rather proud of being able to predict, +and if I ever meet the ‘Baby of the Senate’ I shall tell him to ‘try, +try again’.” + +Molly interfered at this point and stopped Judy’s naughty mouth with a +beaten biscuit. “Aren’t you ashamed, Judy? How should you like to be +teased as you have teased Margaret?” + +“Shouldn’t mind in the least. If in a moment of ambitious dreaming I +have said ‘nay, nay’ to any handsome young western senators, Margaret +has my permission to tell them to ‘try, try again,’ that I was just +a-fooling. I am perfectly frank about my intentions in regard to the +husband question. I am wedded to my art, but it is merely a temporary +arrangement, and I may get a divorce any day if more attractive +inducements are offered than my art can furnish. It is fine, though, to +get my picture accepted and almost well hung by The American Artists. I +have an idea its size had something to do with the judges taking it. It +would have been cruel to refuse such a little thing; and then it is so +easy to hang a tiny picture, and there are so many gaps in galleries +that have to be filled in somehow.” + +“What a rattler you are, Judy,” broke in Edith. “Your picture is lovely, +and it made me proud to tell James, who took me to the exhibition, that +you were my classmate and one of the immortal eight.” + +“Three more to report,” rapped Margaret, “Molly and Nance and Otoyo. +Otoyo first, to punish her for being so noisy,” and Margaret drew the +little Japanese to her side with an affectionate smile. + +“It is not for humble Japanese maidens to bare lay their heart +throbbings, so my beloved friends will have to excuse the little Otoyo.” + +And it spoke well for the breeding of the other seven that they +respected the reticence of their little foreign friend and did not try +to force her confidence, although they were none of them ignorant of the +intentions of the wily Mr. Seshu. + +“Otoyo is right,” declared Nance. “I have nothing to confess, but if I +had, I should be Japanesque and keep it to myself.” + +“Oh, you ‘copy cat’,” sang Judy. “I’ll wager anything that Nance has +more up her sleeve than any of us. Look, look! It has gone all the way +up her sleeve and is crawling out at her neck.” + +Nance made a wild grab at her neck, where, sure enough, the sharp eyes +of Judy had discovered a tiny gold chain that Nance had not meant to +show above her neat collar. She clutched it so forcibly that the +delicate fastening broke, and a small gold locket was hurled across the +room right into Molly’s lap. Molly caught it up and handed it back to +the crimson and confused Nance amid the shrieks of the girls. + +“I reckon a girl has a right to carry her father’s picture around her +neck if she has a mind to,” said Molly. + +Just then there was a knock at the door and Melissa and Miss Allfriend +were ushered in, much to the relief of Molly, who by their coming had +escaped the ordeal of the teasing from her friends that she knew was +drawing near; and it also gave Nance the chance to compose herself. + +Miss Allfriend proved to be delightful. She was overjoyed to be back at +her Alma Mater and eager to know Melissa’s friends and to thank them for +their kindness to her protégée. Personalities were dropped and the +program for the entertainment of the alumnæ was soon under discussion. +Miss Allfriend had been president of her class and she and Margaret +found many subjects of mutual interest. Melissa was anxious to know the +old Queen’s girls, having heard so much of them from Otoyo, and the +girls were equally anxious to know the interesting mountain girl. The +party was a great success, and Nance was delighted to see that there +were no “scraps” left for Molly to give another, as there were many +things on foot for the alumnæ meeting for the next week and Nance felt +sure Molly would have enough to do without any more entertaining. + + * * * * * + +And now we will leave our girls. Their postgraduate year is over. A very +happy one it has been, with little excitement but much good, hard work. +Nance is to go to Vermont and rescue her long-suffering father from the +boarding house, and give the poor man the taste of home life that he has +never known. Mrs. Oldham cannot keep house in Vermont and make speeches, +now at the International Peace Conference at The Hague, and then at a +Biennial of Woman’s Clubs in San Francisco, with a stop over in New York +to address the Equal Suffrage League between boat and train! + +Molly is going back to Kentucky to assist at her sister’s wedding, this +wedding a formal affair in a church, to suit the notions of the +formidable Aunt Clay. Molly has many plots in her head to work out. Her +little success with “The Basket Funeral” has fired her ambition, and she +is longing for time to write more. French must be studied hard all +summer if they are to go abroad, and Kent must be coached, as he is very +rusty in his French and must rub up on it for lectures at the Beaux +Arts. She has promised Edwin Green to write to him, and he has offered +to criticize her stories, which will be a great help to her. The place +of meeting in Europe has not been decided on, but Professor Green is +determined that meeting there shall be. + +Melissa will go back to her beloved mountains and try to give out during +her well-earned vacation some of the precious knowledge she has gained +in her freshman year to the less fortunate children of her county. She +will in a measure repay the noble woman who has spent her life in the +mountain mission work for all the care and labor she has expended on +her, and will go back to Wellington for the sophomore course with her +purpose stronger and deeper: to help her people and uplift them as she +herself has become uplifted. + +One more incident only we must record before this volume ends. After +Molly got home she received by express a box wrapped in Japanese paper, +so carefully and wonderfully done up that it seemed a pity to break the +fastenings. In the box was the most beautiful little stunted tree in a +pot that looked as though it had come out of a museum. The tree had all +the characteristics of a “gnarled oak olden,” with thick twisted +branches and one limb that looked as though little children might have +had a swing on it, so low did it sag. And this tiny tree, with all the +dignity of a great “father of the forest,” was, pot and all, only eight +inches high! With it, came the following letter: + +“Will the honorably and kindly graciously Miss Brown be so stoopingly as +to accept this humble gift from the father of Otoyo Sen, who has by the +most graciously help of Miss Brown passed her difficulty examinations at +Wellington College and now is to become the humble wife of honorable +Japanese gentleman, Mr. Seshu? The honorable gentleman gave greatly +praise to graciously Miss Brown for her so kindly words about humble +Japanese maiden and is gratefully that his humble wife is the friend of +so kindly lady.” + +With this little note, it seemed to Molly that the last ties that bound +her to the precious life at Wellington and the old, complete Queen’s +group had suddenly snapped. Little Otoyo had outstripped them all! She +was quietly entering the school of Life, while the rest were only +standing at the threshold. + +Molly, knowing the serene satisfaction with which the Japanese maiden +awaited the new bonds, and remembering the transforming happiness of +Edith Williams in anticipation of a similar experience, thoughtfully +pondered upon her own future. + +She had the eye of faith but she was not a seer; and she could not +travel in advance those devious paths by which Destiny was to lead her. + +How she finally came to her own and fulfilled the promise of college +days, it remains for “Molly Brown’s Orchard Home” to disclose. + + The End. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Molly Brown's Post-Graduate Days, by Nell Speed + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLY BROWN'S POST-GRADUATE DAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 36230-0.txt or 36230-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/2/3/36230/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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