"'When all the world is young, lad,And all the trees are green;And every goose a swan, lad,And every lass a queen;Then hey for boot and horse, lad,And round the world away;Young blood must have its course, lad,And every dog his day."'When all the world is old, lad,And all the trees are brown;And all the sport is stale, lad,And all the wheels run down;Creep home and take your place there,The spent and maimed among:God grant you find one face there,You loved when all was young.'"
"'When all the world is young, lad,And all the trees are green;And every goose a swan, lad,And every lass a queen;Then hey for boot and horse, lad,And round the world away;Young blood must have its course, lad,And every dog his day."'When all the world is old, lad,And all the trees are brown;And all the sport is stale, lad,And all the wheels run down;Creep home and take your place there,The spent and maimed among:God grant you find one face there,You loved when all was young.'"
"'When all the world is young, lad,And all the trees are green;And every goose a swan, lad,And every lass a queen;Then hey for boot and horse, lad,And round the world away;Young blood must have its course, lad,And every dog his day.
"'When all the world is old, lad,And all the trees are brown;And all the sport is stale, lad,And all the wheels run down;Creep home and take your place there,The spent and maimed among:God grant you find one face there,You loved when all was young.'"
"My, that makes me sad," said Jessie. "I feel that I've already lived my life and am coming back to old Wellington to die with a lot of other decrepit old persons who used to be young and beautiful."
"Thanks for the compliment about looks," saidEdith. "But I don't feel that way. I'm going forth to conquer. I am going to write books and books before I come home to die."
"I'm going to write books, too," announced Molly meekly, "but I feel that I'm not ready to begin yet——"
"You can't begin too young," interrupted Edith.
"I know, but I'm coming back for a post grad. course in"—Molly hesitated, she hardly knew why—"in English and—and a few other things. I've got no style——"
"What, are you really coming back?" they cried.
"Nance and I have decided to return," replied Molly. "We are not ready to join the ranks yet, are we, Nance? Dear Nance is going to polish up her French literature. I'll be busy enough. I expect to do a lot of tutoring and other profitable work."
"What shall I do?" groaned Judy. "I don'twant to study any more, and, yet, how can I bear for you two to be at Wellington without me to bother you."
Molly looked at her and smiled.
"Remember, you are to come home with me this summer, Judy, and maybe you'll like Kentucky so well you'll want to stay there."
Molly was well aware that her brother Kent had fallen in love with Judy at first sight, and it didn't occur to her that anybody could resist the charms of her favorite brother.
"Margaret, why don't you come back?" asked Nance.
"Not me," answered Margaret. "I hear the voice of suffrage calling!"
"We all of us hear voices calling," broke in Katherine. "And each is a different voice according to our natures. Now Margaret's voice is soprano, but Jessie hears a deep baritone——"
"Nothing of the sort," cried Jessie.
"'Fess up, now, Jessie, when is it to be?"
The girls all gathered around pretty Jessie and at last, hard pressed, she said:
"When it does come off you'll have to assemble from the four quarters of the globe to act as bridesmaids, but the day's not set yet."
"Have you decided on the man?" asked Edith.
"Edith, how can you?" answered Jessie, laughing.
"What are you going to do, Katherine?" asked Molly, when the excitement had quieted down.
"Teach," answered Katherine bluntly. "I loathe the thing, but a place awaits me, so I suppose next winter will find me sitting behind a little table, ringing a bell sharply, and saying, 'Now, girls, pay attention, please.'" She turned her large melancholy eyes on her sister. "Edith thinks she's the only writer in the family, but in the intervals of teaching I intend to surprise her. I've already had one short story accepted by an obscure butbona fidemagazine which hasn't sent me a check yet."
"Have you heard the joke on Katherine?" put in Edith.
"Do tell," they cried, while Katherine said fiercely: "Now, Edith, you promised to keep that a secret."
"It's too good to keep. She chose for the subject of her graduating essay 'The Juvenile Delinquent,' and got it all written and then it occurred to her that Miss Walker would announce 'The Juvenile Delinquent, Katherine Williams,' and she could not stand the implication."
"Poor Katherine," they cried, laughing joyously.
And now Molly was handing around nut cake and cloud bursts, it seemed almost for the last time, and after that these bright spirits in kimonos flitted away to their rooms.
A little later, after darkness and quiet had descended, an ecstatic little giggle broke from Judy, lying alone and staring at the dim outline of her window. It was too soft a sound to disturb thetired sleepers in the adjoining rooms, but it meant that Judy had an idea,—an idea that she could see already realized by the aid of her remarkable imagination.
Her mind had been reviewing the talk of the evening and revolving about each of the girls in turn;—Edith and Katherine and Molly, literary and ambitious; Nance, serious and studious; Jessie, pretty, romantic and destined for marriage; and Margaret, the able and willing champion of suffrage. And Judy had smiled as she began to recall certain hours when Margaret's enthusiasm had waxed high, even so far back as Freshman year, and her first class presidency. That thought had started others, and as Judy remembered various amusing incidents of the four years, her "idea" had flashed upon her. It was then that Judy had hugged herself and laughed aloud, but it was several nights later that she shared with the other girls her inspiration.
They had gathered in Otoyo's little room thatnight,—just the eight close friends who now grasped every opportunity for one more good time together. They were a little inclined to sadness, for they had all been busy with those extra duties that point directly to the closing days of college life.
Some had posed before the class photographer's camera, some had borne the weariness of having gowns fitted, and at least two had practiced their parts for the commencement exercises.
Margaret and Jessie were humming the chorus of one of the Senior class songs and Otoyo was just beginning to make the tea, when Judy slipped out of the room with a word of excuse and a promise to return.
Molly turned lazily to Nance who sat close beside her on the couch and whispered, "Judy is as nervous as a witch these days. She has probably thought of something to add to her list!"
"Oh, that list!" returned Nance. "She has everything on it now from white gloves to a trunk strap, and still it grows!"
"'Seniors, seniors, seniors,'" chanted Margaret and Jessie dreamily, watching Otoyo as she deftly arranged her dainty cups and saucers on beautiful lacquered trays.
Edith and Katherine were quietly disputing some point about the class program and absent-mindedly accepting lemon for their tea, when the door opened and a woman draped closely in black stepped into the room.
"Ah, ha, young ladies," she cried in a high, weird voice that startled them into instant silence, "so you would pierce the mysterious veil of the future and read in your teacups the fortune that awaits you? Could you but possess my occult vision, you would not need to employ such puerile methods."
Here the somber figure raised two black-gloved arms and held before her eyes a pair of plain black opera glasses. She had reversed their usual position and now gazed steadily about the room through the large end of the glasses.
"Ah, ha," she began again, fixing her roving attention upon Margaret, who returned her gaze easily, "I see far, far away, through a vista of crowded seats, a huge platform adorned with distinguished figures. A pretty woman stunningly gowned is introducing to a breathlessly expectant audience a tall, striking person. The plaudits of the multitude drown the sound of her name as it is announced, but our keen sight enables us to recognize the famous Miss Wakefield! To those who have long known her, it will not be surprising to learn that her companion is none other than her college satellite, now Miss Jessie,—but I cannot quite pronounce the unfamiliar name."
As the voice stopped for a moment, Jessie started toward the strange figure, but Margaret pulled her back and drew her blushing face down upon her own shoulder.
At the same time Molly cried, "Where have I seen those shabby old glasses before?"
And Nance added, "My old bird glasses, or I'm blind!"
Nothing daunted, the prophetess went on in the same weird key, "I see the gray towers of Wellington looming grandly against a wild autumnal sky. I see troops of girls crowding across the campus and into recitation rooms. I see a single figure walking beside the white-haired President as though discussing the schedule of lectures and the merits of students, and the figure is that of Miss Oldham,—dear old Nance!" And the voice of the soothsayer broke suddenly as she turned the glasses on Nance and Molly.
Then she hurried on, "By forcing my keen vision to its utmost capacity, I am able to read upon certain profound text books the names of their joint compilers, Edith and Katherine Williams, the world-famed writers!"
Again the voice paused as the glasses were leveled at the friendly disputants, long since quieted by the eloquence of the seer.
All this time Otoyo had stood spellbound beside her teapot. Now she started slightly as the glasses glimmered in her direction.
"Oh, no, no, no," she cried in real distress. "Don't tell me, please, Mees Kean!"
At that, Judy flung the draperies back from her hair, the glasses to Nance, and her arms about Otoyo, exclaiming at the same moment:
"You precious child, I don't know any more than your little Buddha does about your future, but the gods will be good to you and we'll leave it to them."
Contents
Now as suddenly as she had tossed aside her head coverings, Judy dropped her long loose cloak upon the floor and stood revealed clad in motley raiment indeed. In an instant all that she had said was forgotten as the girls crowded around examining her curiously.
"Why, Judy Kean, wheredidyou find that old necktie?" cried Molly, as she spied a long familiar article fastened at Judy's throat.
"And my Russian princess muff!" exclaimed Nance. "It was hidden with my treasures at the very bottom of my trunk!"
"And do I not behold my favorite Shelley?" chimed in Edith, seizing a book that dangled by a cord from Judy's waist.
"And I—surelee it is my veree ancient kimono that hangs behind?" inquired Otoyo curiously.
"I have it," announced judicial Margaret "Judy Kean is now a symbol. She representsus. Upon her noble person she carries the intimate souvenirs of our various stages of collegiate growth. Yea, verily, I recognize mine own."
With that, Margaret tried to claim a gorgeous yellow pennant that flaunted its aggressive motto in a panel-like arrangement on Judy's dress.
Judy dodged Margaret's attempt and lifting her hand dramatically exclaimed in oratorical tones:
"You have guessed. I am indeed the spirit of our college days. I represent History, and the tokens that I wear mark the incidents of humor, pathos, and tragedy that were the crises in our young careers. You will pardon me, I know, when I tell you that I have rummaged reverently among your personal 'estates,' as Otoyo used to say, seeing, touching, disturbing none but thesignificant articles before you. Behold the history of these departing years!"
As Judy swung slowly about before their interested eyes, something chinked and clinked gently, like glass meeting glass. Molly's long arm shot out and grasped the jingling articles. A not-to-be-suppressed shout broke forth as she displayed a china pig and a small bottle of blue-black fluid labeled "Hair-dye,—black."
"Oh, Judy, Judy," cried Molly, "if you haven't discoveredanotherMartin Luther, the ghost of the hero of my Junior days! Give him to me and I will feed him faithfully next year,—by the slow earnings of my pen, I will!"
Meanwhile, Jessie was laughing over the tell-tale bottle of hair-dye, and secretly every one was rejoicing that Judy, too, could look back upon that supremely foolish escapade and laugh as heartily as any of them at her own expense.
And now Nance claimed her muff,—the one survivor of the three cotton-batting masterpiecesmade for the skating carnival of Sophomore year,—and as she thrust her hands inside, they encountered a long, hard object. She drew it out and with a flourish waved above her head a clean, meatless but unmistakable ham bone!
The laugh was directed toward Molly now, and to turn it again she exclaimed, "What do I see gleaming upon your finger, Judy Kean? Verily, upon the third finger of your left hand?"
Immediately the girls joined in the cry, chanted like a deep-toned school yell, "Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!"
"'Well, it was lent to me. It's not mine. I simply promised to wear it for a few months,'" quoted Judy, imitating Jessie's own protesting explanation so cleverly that even Otoyo recognized the source. "But it is only a five-cent diamond!" added Judy, shaking her head solemnly. "I might lose it, you know, and it would take more than a steely inspector to locate it in a man's deep coat pocket!"
The girls cast sly glances at Molly, but she was intent on another discovery. Hanging under Edith's shabby copy of Shelley was her own beloved Rossetti! Instantly she forgot the girls and their fun and saw for one fleeting moment a series of quickly moving mental pictures. First there flashed before her that Christmas when Professor Green had given her the little volume. Then she saw herself in the cloisters lost in the beauty of "The blessed damozel," when he had appeared so unexpectedly. And finally she realized suddenly how much she loved the little worn volume and how she should always keep it to comfort and inspire her.
"'Come—back—to me, Sweetheart,'" sang Judy teasingly, and Molly came back with a start, only just realizing that she had been day-dreaming.
"What is this spiky thing that pricks through the folds of my aged sweater?" asked Katherine, who had recognized an old blue sweater thatJudy wore draped from her waist like a pannier.
"This," replied Judy, "is a bud that grew on a twig that grew on a bush that grew from the ground that marks the resting place of the ashes of Queen's, and to you, Katherine, as true historian of our noble class, do I present it."
"In the name of futurity, I accept it," replied Katherine, not to be outdone in formality.
"And now to appease the cravings of the inner man, permit me to share with you the contents of this hamper," continued Judy, opening a small basket that she carried on her arm. "Although not the original, lost-but-not-forgotten snakey-noodles, these are the best imitations that Madeleine Petit could make. And Molly the cook has contributed once more some of her justly famed cloud bursts, an indispensable exhibit in this unequaled historical collection!"
Warm and breathless, Judy sat down and began to remove her borrowed plumes, while the girls, each holding aloft a snakey-noodle and acloud burst, chanted appreciatively, "What's the matter with Julia Kean?She's all right!"
Graduation at Wellington was old-fashioned and conventional. The girl graduates in white dresses filed onto the platform and took their seats in a semi-circle. Those who were so fortunate as to have relatives and friends in the large audience searched for their intimate features in the sea of upturned, interested faces. As glances met, smiles were fleetingly exchanged but quickly subdued on the part of the girls as the dignity of the day was borne in upon them anew.
President Walker, never more sweet and womanly than in the formal attire demanded by her position, unconsciously inspired them all to imitate her fine simplicity and grace of manner. Tears sprang to the eyes of many girls as they looked at her and realized as never before that she had been the real center of all that had been best and most lasting in their college life. The girls who were to read essays, resolved that forthe President's sake they would do well in spite of trembly knees and shaky hands. And of course they did, because in their determination to please Miss Walker and to reflect credit upon her and dear old Wellington they quite lost their paralyzing self-consciousness. The little buzz of pleased conversation that followed each number of the program as the applause died down was gratifying without doubt, but the students cared more deeply for the President's brief nod and smile of satisfaction. After the exercises came the diplomas, those strips of sheepskin for which our girls had striven so long and valiantly. It was almost a shock to clasp at last that precious token that had seemed so difficult of achievement in the far-away Freshman days. If to Molly it meant among other things value received for "two perfectly good acres of orchard," to Nance it marked a milestone of happy progress; to Margaret, Edith and Katharine it represented an interesting bit of current history; and to Judy andJessie it signified a safe haven after many narrow escapes from shipwreck.
After the exciting day was over, came the class supper and then everybody did stunts. Edith read the class poem and Katherine was historian. Then the oldest girl and the prettiest girl and the class baby made speeches, and at the end came three cheers for Molly Brown, the most beloved in 19—; and Molly, trembling and blushing, rose and thanked them all and assured them that it was the greatest honor she had ever known; and they made her sit on the table while they danced in a circle around it, singing:
"Here's to Molly Brown,Drink her down, drink her down, drink her down."
"Here's to Molly Brown,Drink her down, drink her down, drink her down."
"Here's to Molly Brown,Drink her down, drink her down, drink her down."
Thus the four years at Wellington came to an end as all good things must, and the day for the parting arrived. The "Primavera" and the prayer rug were packed away in a box and shipped to Kentucky, because, after all, Mollymight not return to Wellington. Who could tell what the fates had in store? Then came the good-byes. There were tears in their eyes and little choky sounds in their voices as they kissed and hugged and kissed again.
Otoyo at that last meeting gave a present to each of the old crowd. She was smiling bravely, since it is not correct for a young Japanese lady to weep, and she kept reiterating:
"I shall mees you, greatlee, muchlee. It will not be the same at Wellington."
With Molly's gift, a little carved ivory box, Otoyo handed a letter.
"I promised to deliver it on the last day," she said.
"That sounds a good deal like the Judgment Day," said Molly, laughing, as she tore open the envelope. The letter read:
"The Campus Ghost and the Thief of Lunches has learned from you what nobody ever told her before: that honesty's the best policy. I supposeI always enjoyed the other way because I never was found out. But being found out is different. Honest people who have nothing to conceal are the happiest. I know that now, and henceforth the open and above-board for me."Yours,"Adele Windsor."
"The Campus Ghost and the Thief of Lunches has learned from you what nobody ever told her before: that honesty's the best policy. I supposeI always enjoyed the other way because I never was found out. But being found out is different. Honest people who have nothing to conceal are the happiest. I know that now, and henceforth the open and above-board for me.
"Yours,"Adele Windsor."
Molly rolled the paper into a little ball and threw it away. Certainly the note of repentance did not sound very strong in Adele's letter. But perhaps it was only her way of putting it, and to be honest for any reason, no matter how remote from the right one, was something.
"Anyhow, I hope she will think it's best policy to be nice to her poor, hard-working mother," she thought indignantly.
But Adele had already passed out of the lives of the Wellington girls and none of them ever saw her again. She did not return to college to finish out the senior course, and the hoodoo suite was dismantled forever of her fine trappings and furniture.
"I have one more good-bye to say, girls," said Molly to her friends a little while before train time. "I'll meet you at the archway."
"You'll miss the train," called Nance.
"And that would just spoil everything," cried Judy.
The three friends had planned to travel as far as Philadelphia together. There Nance would leave them to join her father, and Molly and Judy would continue their journey toward Kentucky.
But Molly was already running down the corridor, suitcase in one hand and jacket in the other.
Down the steps she flew and out into the court toward the little door which opened into the cloisters. Another dash and she was knocking on Professor Green's door.
"Come in," he called, and she flew into the room breathlessly.
"I came to say good-bye again," she said. "I've only five minutes."
"Sit down," he said, drawing up a chair.
"I wanted to ask you," she went on, "if you wouldn't come to Kentucky to visit us this summer and—and see your property."
"How do you know it would be convenient for your mother to have me?"
"Because it is always convenient for mother to entertain friends, and this is really her very own suggestion. Our house is big and besides that we have an office outside with three bedrooms for overflow."
The Professor looked thoughtful. Perhaps he was already forming a picture in his mind of the hammock beside the brook and the shady orchard, his orchard.
"You will promise to come, won't you?" persisted Molly.
"Do you really want me?" he asked.
"Indeed, indeed I do."
"Perhaps," he answered.
"Good-bye, then," she said, "or ratherau revoir,"and they clasped hands while the Professor looked down into Molly's eyes and smiled.
He moved to the door like a sleep-walker and held it open for her as she hurried out. Then he went back to his desk and sat down in a sort of trance. The next instant the door was flung open again, footsteps hurried across the room and two arms slipped over his shoulders.
"Do you remember what I said I was going to do some time to that old gentleman who bought the orchard?" said Molly's voice over his head. "I said I'd just give him a good hug."
For one instant the arms held him tightly, a cheek was laid lightly on his thin reddish hair and then she was gone, flying down the corridor.
"I suppose she regards me as an old gentleman," he said resignedly, laying his hand softly on the spot where her cheek had touched.
As for Molly, she had a sudden thought that almost stopped her headlong course:
"WhatwouldMiss Alice Fern think if she knew!"
The girls were calling impatiently when Molly reached the arch, and in three minutes the crowded bus moved down the avenue.
"Good-bye! Good-bye!" called many voices.
"Good-bye! Good-bye!" echoed the few students who were going to take a later train.
Good-bye to Wellington and the old happy days.—Page303.
Good-bye to Wellington and the old happy days! Good-bye to the Quadrangle and the Cloisters! Good-bye to all the dear familiar haunts and faces.
Every one of the girls felt the hour of parting keenly, but to two of Molly's friends at least there came an additional pang. They had known no happier home; no other place held for them such close associations. Nance, pale and silent, and Judy, feverish and excited, turned their eyes lingeringly toward the twin gray towers. But Molly, her face transfigured by some secret happy thought, looked southward down the avenue toward Kentucky and home!
The class prophecy which Judy hadextemporized on the evening of her appearance as "History" may have had some promise of fulfillment, but it will be remembered that Otoyo's timely interruption saved her from guessing at the most puzzling future of all. It remains, therefore, for "Molly Brown's Post-Graduate Days" to reveal what Dame Fortune had in store for the girl of many possibilities, Molly Brown of Wellington and Kentucky.
Transcriber's Note:The illustration with the caption "Molly Glanced Back. Sure Enough, The Phantom ... was Running Behind Them—Page198." was not available for inclusion in this ebook.
Transcriber's Note:The illustration with the caption "Molly Glanced Back. Sure Enough, The Phantom ... was Running Behind Them—Page198." was not available for inclusion in this ebook.