Molly Brown's College Friends

“All right, honey, but let’s get Nance safely married and the wedding feast disposed of,” insisted Judy, who thought her brother-in-law looked a little alarmed, fearing that Molly might decide that this was as good a time as any to have the Tuckers and Page Allison visit them.

“Of course! I didn’t mean now but later on, although it is a pity to put it off too long,” teased Molly, seeing the worried look on Edwin’s face. “I might make up two bunks on the pantry shelves and let one of them sleep in the bath tub.”

CHAPTER XI

AN INTERESTING COUPLE

“I came from New York with a very interesting couple,” said Judy the next day as she vigorously stitched away at some of the wedding finery. “Of course I talked to them – I always talk to the interesting persons I meet traveling.”

“So do I,” said Molly as she finished a garment and put it aside for Kizzie to press.

“I never do,” sighed Nance. “I do wish I had some of your and Judy’s warm-heartedness.”

“Nonsense! Your heart is just as warm as any that beats,” objected Molly. “Ask Andy!”

“You see, honey, Vermont is Vermont and Kentucky is Kentucky! Persons from Kentucky haven’t quite as hard shells as the ones from Vermont, but when once you get below the shell the kernel is about the same. You and Molly couldn’t be any more alike than Kentucky beeches and Vermont pines,” said Judy, pausing long enough in her labors to give Nance an encouraging pat.

“Yes, and pines stay green all the year around,” said Molly. “It is much better to be a pine than a beech.”

“Well, tell us about the interesting couple,” laughed Nance, much comforted.

“They were from Alsace but were very French in their sympathies. They looked a little German but they spoke beautiful French except that they did have a tendency to call Paris ‘Baree.’ They love Paris as much as I do. The man, Misel is his name, Monsieur Jean Misel, – is the best informed person I have seen for many a day. He knows the war situation as few persons do, I am sure. He seems to have been everywhere and known everybody. He even knew my father, – at least, knew all about him and was greatly interested in the fact that Bobby is soon to sail for France to help rebuild the roads. Madame Misel is much quieter than her husband but is very intelligent, I am sure. With all her reserve, she never misses a trick.”

“Where was this interesting couple going?” asked Molly.

“Coming right here to Wellington! They have taken a cottage in the village and mean to live here. He is writing and she wants to do war work.”

“How splendid!” cried Molly. “We need workers more than I can tell you. The students give what time they can, but a full college course is about all a normal girl can take care of in the way of work.”

“You must call on them right off, Molly. I will go with you and Edwin must go, too. I know he will like Monsieur Misel.”

“I’ll ask him, but Edwin is sure to want to know why this lover of Paris is not fighting for France.”

“Ah, the poor fellow! He is quite lame – walks with a cane and a crutch. He hinted rather darkly that his lameness is in some way due to the Germans, but I do not know in just what way. He was sensitive about his affliction, so his wife told me when he left us and went in the smoker, so naturally I did not ask him how the Germans were responsible for it. He is a young man, too, that is under forty, and very handsome.”

Professor Green was quite interested in what Judy had to tell him of the Misels. He promised to call with Molly and do all he could to make Wellington pleasant for them. He looked forward with pleasure to the conversations Judy assured him he would enjoy with that highly educated gentleman. Holding the chair of English in a woman’s college is not bad, but there were times when Edwin Green longed for more man talk. He and Dr. McLean were sworn friends and saw much of each other, but they both of them welcomed with enthusiasm any masculine newcomer.

“I wonder if your friend could teach French, Judy,” asked her brother-in-law. “Miss Walker is quite put to it for the end of the term. The French professor took French leave last week. He seemed too old to hold anything more weighty than a pen, but he has gone to fight.”

“That is the terrible part of it,” sighed Judy. “They say all the superannuated dancing masters and French teachers are leaving to take up arms. It means that France is having a hard time. Why, oh why, don’t we hurry up and get in the game?”

The call was made and Molly and her husband were quite as enthusiastic as Judy had been over the charms of the new neighbors. Monsieur Misel seemed the very person to take up the labors of the flown French professor, and Miss Walker accordingly engaged him. Molly felt she must have them to dinner in spite of the fact that she was deep in the preparations for the wedding.

“I’ll have a very simple dinner and not make company of them, just make them feel at home,” she declared, and her husband and Nance and Judy smiled knowingly. Molly always would have company and there was no use in trying to stop her.

“I know when I die she will feel called upon to give me a good wake,” laughed Edwin.

“Certainly, if people come hungry to your funeral, I’ll feed them,” answered Molly.

“Are our new friends, the Misels, hungry?”

“Not hungry for food, but they must be lonely so far away from their country and friends. Anyhow, they are invited now and have accepted, so there is no use in teasing me. You just see that there are cigars here for Monsieur Misel to smoke after dinner, and I’ll attend to the rest.”

How sad it was to see a man of Misel’s beauty a hopeless cripple! He was a tall, stalwart fellow with a military bearing which the use of a crutch and cane could not take from him. His lameness had not affected the comeliness of his limbs or his erect carriage. He had very courteous manners and it seemed to be very hard on him not to spring from his seat when a lady entered the room.

On the evening of Molly’s informal dinner when Nance, who was the only member of the household who had not met the strangers, came into the library, Misel stood up to be introduced, but his wife gave a low cry of alarm and sprang to his assistance, eagerly placing his crutch in one hand, his cane in the other. He sank to his seat with a smothered groan.

“Jean, Jean! What am I to do with you?” said Madame Misel irritably. “He is so imprudent,” apologetically to Molly, who had tears in her eyes at this exhibition of courage and weakness. She could well understand how Monsieur Misel’s courteous desires could get the better of his strength.

Andy McLean was present and the doctor in him immediately became interested in the pitiable case. He had none of the hesitation Judy had shown in regard to questioning the Misels concerning the cause of the lameness.

“What is your trouble?” he asked bluntly. “If you can stand without support as you did a moment ago, I see no reason why you cannot be cured.”

“In time! In time!” said Misel with patient resignation.

“He has had the best medical attention,” put in his wife.

Madame Misel usually spoke with a kind of slow hesitation, but now her words came rapidly. She had the air of trying to shield her husband from farther questioning on the part of Andy. Andy, however, was totally oblivious of this fact and went on.

“Who is his surgeon?”

“The great F – , in Baree!”

“What did he say?” asked Andy, impressed by the name.

“He – he – said – nerve centres – disturbed,” answered Madame, returning to her hesitating speech. She did not stammer at all but seemed to pause to choose her words.

“If I can be of any assistance to you, I hope you will call on me,” said Andy kindly.

In the meantime Misel sat with his hands over his eyes as though in great pain and his wife hovered over him solicitously.

Dinner was soon announced and this time the lame man arose very cautiously and made his way slowly to the dining-room.

“Kindly – go – in – front – of – us,” faltered Madame, and Molly marshalled her family and guests so that the Misels might bring up the rear. She fully appreciated how the wife felt about wanting to be the one to assist her poor lame husband. If her Edwin had been so crippled no one should have helped him but his own wife.

Molly turned to smile on the poor woman for whom her heart was sore. She could well understand the misery it must bring to see one most dear having to suffer so acutely. There was a dark place in the hall leading to the dining-room and the hostess feared the poor lame man might stumble there, so she stopped to warn him of a rug. She distinctly heard Madame say to her husband in no gentle tones but with an asperity almost malevolent:

“Narr! Narr!”

Molly began assiduously to hunt in the archives of her brain for the small German vocabulary which she could call her own.

“Narr! What can narr mean?” the question kept recurring to her as dinner progressed. She visualized lists of words in a worn old blank book used at school. “Narr, Nase, Nesse, Nest!” She tried to remember the English on the opposite page. How well she remembered the little old book wherein was written the despised German exercises. The script in itself had been almost impossible to learn and as for mastering the language, – she had been so half-hearted about it that she had not been compelled to keep it up.

“Narr, nase, nesse, nest!” ran through and through and over and over in her mind. Suddenly just as Professor Green asked her what she would say to adjourning to the library, the list of English words flashed on her brain.

“‘Fool, nose, nephew, nest’!” she cried audibly.

“What?” Edwin feared his Molly had gone crazy.

“Oh – I – I – mean, yes – coffee in the library!” and she arose from her seat in confusion.

Why should that calm-looking, slow-speaking woman call her poor lame husband a fool? Narr! Narr! It was certainly strange.

CHAPTER XII

AN OLD-TIME PARTY

The first one of the old girls to arrive was Otoyo, Mrs. Matsuki, with the little Cho-Cho-San. Otoyo had changed not at all in the years that had elapsed since college days. Perhaps an added matronly dignity was hers, but this was not much in evidence when she was with her dear old friends. She was beautifully and elegantly dressed. All her clothes were made of the most exquisite fabrics. Her blouses were of the finest and sheerest, if of linen; and the heaviest and richest, if of silk. Her furs were the furriest and her suits of the most approved cut and material. Her little boots were a marvel of fit and style.

“Perfect, like a Japanese puzzle!” Judy declared. “Every little part made to fit every other little part!”

“Yes, and the whole a wonderful creation like some rare print or bit of pottery!” agreed Molly.

Otoyo had adapted herself to the manners and customs of her adopted country, wearing them with the same grace she did the garments. She had an English nurse for the little Cho-Cho-San and the child was being reared as much like American children as possible. A tiny little thing, she was, with coal black hair and slanting eyes. There was much mischief peeping from those eyes around the tip-tilted nose. The mouth was a crimson bow, ever ready to break into a tinkling laugh. She and Mildred rushed together as though their short lives had been spent waiting for this opportunity. Mildred was younger by several months but taller by several inches than the little Japanese. What a picture the two children made! Mildred, with her red gold hair curling in little ringlets all over her head, her round rosy face and wide hazel eyes, was exactly the opposite to Cho-Cho-San, with her straight, bobbed, ebony black hair, her oval, olive face and almond eyes.

“I b’lieve I can tote you,” said Mildred, who often used words current in Kizzie’s vernacular.

“Tote! Tote! What is tote?” and the tinkling laugh rang out like glass chimes assailed by a sudden gust of wind.

“Why I tote my dolly – an’ Mr. Murphy totes the coal – an’ – an’ Daddy totes his books to lexures – an’ – an’ – ”

“May I tote something, also?”

“Oh, yes, you can tote Dodo. He’s my baby brother.”

“Oh, I’m so ’appee! I’m so ’appee!” and the little thing danced in glee. “My honorable mother told me when I came for a visit to her friends that it would be all ’appiness.” The English nurse had left her stamp upon her charge just as Kizzie had upon Mildred. The occasional dropping of an h was the result. Cho-Cho-San’s lingo was most amusing with its mixture of Cockney and Japanese.

“You’d look ’zactly like my Jap dolly if you only had a bald spot on top,” said Mildred as she led her new friend to the sunny nursery where she and Dodo reigned supreme with the Irish Katy to do their bidding.

“And phwat Haythen is this?” cried Katy when she saw the little Japanese girl. “And ain’t she the cutey?”

“She’s my bes’ beloved,” announced Mildred. “Me’n’ Cho-Cho-San is gonter be each other’s doll babies. I’m a-gonter be her kick-up dolly an’ she’s gonter be my Jap dolly.”

“Oh, I’m so ’appee! I’m so ’appee!” was all the tiny Haythen could say as she danced around the nursery.

“Aunt Nance done said we could be her flower girls, too,” went on the loquacious Mildred. “We’s all gonter get married day after another day.”

“All the doll babies going to be married!” sang the guest. “Kick-up dolls and Japanese dolls!”

The Williams girls arrived next and close on their heels Margaret and Jessie. I cannot bring myself to designate the girls by their married names any more than they could one another. Husbands were not much in evidence at that gathering. The talk was all of the past. Of course Andy, the soon-to-be husband, was allowed some consideration, although the first night after the arrival of the guests even he was debarred and the old chums had a kimono party in the library. The host fortunately had an engagement that took him from home, otherwise he would have had to spend his evening shut up in his den.

The revellers opened the ball by singing “Drink her down,” to each one in the crowd. Molly’s old guitar was brought out and Otoyo produced a tiny ukelele which added much to the harmony. After the singing was finished and every one drunk down, the words that were used most often were: “Do you remember?” All of the scrapes were recalled and talked over. Bits of gossip were recounted that had never come to light before, the noblesse oblige of the college spirit having kept matters dark, but now that the years had rolled by there seemed to be no longer reason for silence.

“I’d like to get into some mischief this very night!” cried Judy. “I’ve been good and pious so long I feel like whooping life up a bit.”

“I’m game,” drawled Katherine Williams.

“Did I hear an aye from the eminent educator?” questioned Judy.

“That’s me!”

“I’ll do whatever it is if I don’t have to walk too far,” said lazy Jessie.

“But what are you to do?” from Margaret, in whom the spirit of adventure was not so rampant.

“Listen to the Gentleman from Missouri!” cried Judy. “Come on and we’ll show you.”

“I like very muchly to be in the vehicle of musicians but I also like muchly to know what is the ultimately destination,” said Otoyo softly.

“She means the band wagon! She means the band wagon!” cried Judy. “Oh, my dear little Otoyo, if you were changed I could not bear this sad grey world.”

“Others, too, have notly changed,” said Otoyo slyly.

“What are you planning, Judy honey?” asked Molly, laughing.

“I haven’t any plan – nothing but something crazy and adventurous. I am dead tired of being so good and proper. I have rolled bandages and drawn threads and cut gauze until I feel like a machine. I want to have a romantic adventure. I’d like to put a tick-tack on Miss Walker’s window – I’d like to burn asafetida on the teacher’s stove, or put red pepper in the Bible so when she opens it to read she would sneeze her head off. I might content myself with making an apple pie bed for my dear brother-in-law – ”

“Oh, please not that!” begged Molly. “My supply of sheets is stretched to the limit.”

“O. Henry would advise you to go out in the night and await Adventure. Adventure is always just around the corner. Step up to him and tap him on the shoulder,” suggested Katherine.

“It is very comfortable in here,” purred Jessie.

“Infirm of purpose!” cried Judy.

“Well, I’m not infirm of purpose,” said Molly. “I’ve been purposing all along to have a Welsh rarebit and make some cloudbursts and I’m still going to do it. If you Don Quixotes want to go off and hunt trouble in the meantime, though, you are welcome, only don’t stay too long.”

“Ain’t Molly the broad-minded guy, though? Live and let live was always Molly. Aren’t you coming, Nance?” And Judy sprang from her cross-legged position on the rug ready for any fray. “Come on, Margaret! Come on, Edith.”

“Don’t you know Edith is too stuffy to do such a thing? She’s afraid her perfectly good husband would not approve,” teased her sister.

“No such thing, but I’m not going. I mean to help Molly. You crazy kids go get in all the trouble you want to. Me for the house this night!”

“And Margaret? You, too, must keep the ‘home fires burning,’ I fancy.”

“I am going to stir the rarebit,” announced Margaret firmly.

“I’m going to pick out nuts for the cloudbursts,” purred Jessie.

“I must whip lace,” blushed Nance.

“Oh, you middle-aged persons! I bite my thumb at you!” cried Judy. “Who among you is young enough to go hunt adventure?”

“I told you I intended to go,” said Katherine, looking rather longingly at the crowded shelves of poetry that she was simply dying to poke in. “No one is going to call me middle-aged.”

“And I, too, will take greatly pleasure to knock the kindling from the shoulder of Adventure,” said little Otoyo.

“She means the chip! She means the chip!” screamed the delighted Judy. “Oh, Otoyo, I love you in all the world next to my immediate family!”

It took but a moment to slip on great coats over kimonos and then, heavily veiled, the three adventuresses started forth, with admonitions from Molly not to be gone more than half an hour.

“And please don’t get arrested!” she called after them. “Kent says he always expects Judy to get arrested some day. This spirit of adventure seizes her every now and then and nothing will stop her.”

“It is well it struck her here at Wellington instead of in New York. She can’t get into very much mischief here,” laughed Edith.

“She could in the old days,” put in Margaret, “but now that she is not compelled to keep rules I fancy she will not care to break them. What a Judy she is! It must be great to have her in the family, Molly.”

“Indeed it is! She is the favorite in-law with the whole lot of Browns. Mother adores her and all the boys think she is just about perfect. Even Aunt Clay can’t help liking her.”

“I wonder what they will find to-night. I almost wish I had left the lace off of this old camisole and gone with them,” said Nance.

“I think you need not hunt adventure right now,” drawled Jessie. “Any girl who is deliberately getting married and going to the war zone will have enough to keep her busy for a lifetime. I don’t believe they will do more than go to the drug store and get limeades.”

“You don’t know Judy and Katherine,” said Edith, “and little Otoyo with her determination to knock the kindling from the shoulder of Adventure. I wonder what Mr. Matsuki would say if he could know that his sedate little wife is engaged in such a harum scarum pursuit.”

“Why, he would just smile and bow and look more like an ivory Buddha than ever. Otoyo has the charming little gentleman completely under her thumb. She works a kind of mental jiu jitsu on him and he just lets her have her way. The joke of it is he thinks she is the most docile, obedient little wife in all the world, and so she is. She simply makes him want what she wants,” explained Molly.

Molly was busily engaged in the preparations for the midnight feast. It would have been simpler and easier just to have gone to the kitchen and made the rarebit over the gas stove, but that would not have been at all like college days and this night must be as near a reproduction of those times as possible. Chafing dishes must be used and dishes must be scarce or the spell would be broken.

CHAPTER XIII

ADVENTURE

It was after ten o’clock as the three veiled figures glided from the square house on the campus. The night was dark, fit for the deed they had to do. They did not know what the deed was but whatever it was the intrepid females were fully prepared to do it.

“First we’ll go by Prexy’s house and perchance she may see us and then we’ll run. That will be fun!” suggested Judy. “Nothing would so warm my old blood as to be taken for a junior.”

It so happened that a consultation was being held at the president’s home and as they passed, Miss Walker opened the front door and Professor Green emerged.

“Ministers and saints defend us! My brother-in-law!” cried Judy.

“Who is that?” called Miss Walker as the three girls ran swiftly out of the broad band of light pouring from the open door.

“Run for your lives!” hissed Judy.

“Shall I chase them?” laughed Professor Green. “I’d much rather not.”

“No,” sighed poor Prexy. “I fancy they are up to no harm, but it is late for girls to be out alone. Such terrible things seem to be happening all over the world. I’ll have to deliver a lecture to the whole student body, I am afraid, about late rambles and pranks.”

“Those girls were veiled, so evidently whatever they were doing they did not want to be recognized. I’d hate to hold your job, Miss Walker. I’d much rather be the humble professor of English.”

“Surely it is not a sinecure,” laughed the president, “but when all is told, my girls are a pretty good lot. Their mischief is never, at least hardly ever, serious. How glad I am to see Judy Kean again, – Mrs. Kent Brown! She is the same old Judy. Such pranks as that child could play! I shall never forget when she dyed her hair purple-black.”

“Judy is a great girl. I am glad we married into the same family,” declared the professor. “But tell me, Miss Walker, how Misel is doing. I feel quite responsible for him since it was I who introduced him to you.”

“The students like him. He seems to be able to impart knowledge. I am afraid he is too handsome, however. It isn’t quite safe to have a professor too good-looking. College girls are very impressionable.” Then Miss Walker realized she had made quite a break. Edwin Green was certainly a very good-looking man but not the type to make girls languish with love. While M. Misel was a much more romantic figure with his flashing eyes and lameness.

“Are the girls losing their hearts to him?” laughed Edwin. “Again I am thankful I am what I am and not what others are.”

And so the two old friends chatted in the doorway while the three veiled figures made their way towards the village.

“We got them going that time,” panted Judy after the run through the dark. “I bet you anything Prexy lectures the girls to-morrow morning. Dear Prexy!”

“Let’s tick-tack the math teacher. I bet you she’s still out of bed thinking up deviltry to make the girls miserable with on the morrow,” suggested Katherine.

“I can make a noise very muchly like a cat. Would not that be as gruesomely as a mathematicktack? We might be the Musicians of Bremen, as one reads in the beautifully fairy story.”

“Fine, Otoyo! Here’s her domicile! Cut loose!” whispered Judy. “I’ll be the donkey and Katherine crow like the rooster.”

Crouched down under the window where a light still burned for the much abused teacher of mathematics, the Musicians of Bremen, all but the dog, got ready for their song. The noise was something shocking. Judy’s bray was so lifelike that little Otoyo sprang aside as though in fear of kicking hind legs.

A dog in the neighborhood, feeling that harmony could be established by his voice alone, joined in the chorus.

Windows were opened on the campus! Silence reigned supreme!

“Don’t run!” whispered Judy. “Scrooge down close to the wall.”

“Who is there?” called the math teacher.

Mr. Dog went on howling as though he had been responsible for the whole infernal racket. His timely tact seemed to satisfy the curious ones and windows were closed, lights went out and the campus took itself off to bed.