The two Kentucky girls made a wonderfully charming picture.—Page 252.The two Kentucky girls made a wonderfullycharming 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 throughThey took her to be some queen, queen, queen,They took her to be some queen.“‘Lord Ronald, Lord Ronald, is this your brideThat seems so plaguey brown?And you might have married as fair skinned a girlAs 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 sideAnd it entered at the heart, heart, heart,It entered at the heart.“Lord Ronald, he took her by her little brown handAnd 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 snowsA sentry in the wood,—The scarlet berries on his boughsAre 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 waitsAmong 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 singagain. 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.
“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 MissGreen, 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. andMrs. 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 Melissaas 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 myselfverra 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.”
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 filialfeeling, 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 knowledgethat 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 whatother 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 seemlovely 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 thatmeans 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 “faintheart”? 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 andnot 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 mysabbatical 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 tohave 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 formof 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 hehas 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 fivethings 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 therewas 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 stopnow. 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 blueprints 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.
“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. Youalways 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 pencilgrasped 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 tothe 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 alot 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 awinter 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 adoremy 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, verygood 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 issplendidand 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,” confessedthe 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 ofthe 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 ratherproud 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 soeasy 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 havenothing 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 herfriends 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.