Molly Brown's Post-Graduate Days Part 17

"'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-fas.h.i.+oned time capping quotations. And finally the one thing wanting, as Molly thought, came to pa.s.s, and Professor Green read d.i.c.kens' Christmas Carol just as he had three years before, when he and his sister gave Molly the surprise party at Queen's in her Soph.o.m.ore year.

"At the risk of making myself verra unpopular, I am afraid I shall have to say it is time for all of us to be in bed," said Mrs. McLean, when the professor closed the worn old copy of d.i.c.kens.

"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 b.a.l.l.s every night of her life. Otoyo and Mr. Seshu hopped around together as though "step-twoing" and "dance-rounding" were the national dances of j.a.pan.

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 la.s.sies a lesson in how to accept such public demonstration," said his blus.h.i.+ng 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 la.s.sies that they must not hold with their anger too long. A kiss under the mistletoe has never yet been offered as an insult, and the forward miss is not the one to get the kiss."

CHAPTER VII.-DREAMS AND REALITIES.

The holidays were all too soon over. Much feasting went on, what with Molly's big turkey and her fruit cake and Rosemary pickles; and the invitations to Mrs. McLean's and Miss Walker's; and Otoyo's j.a.panese spread, where she and Melissa charmed the company with the beautifully arranged rooms and the dainty, delicious refreshments. Mr. Seshu, throughout, was very attentive to his little countrywoman, and the girls decided that he was in love with her just like any ordinary American might be.

"I am so glad it is coming about this way," said Molly. "Just think how hard it might have been for our little Otoyo, now that she has been in this country long enough to see how we do such things, had she been compelled, by filial feeling, to marry some one whom she did not love and who did not love her. I think she is all over the sentimental attachment she used to have for the unconscious Andy, don't you, Nance?"

"I fancy she is," said the far from unconscious Nance, who always had a heightened color when young Andy's name got into the conversation. "I don't think she ever really cared for Andy. He was just the first and only young man who was ever nice to her, and it went to her head. Andy is so kind and good natured."

"You forget Professor Green. He was always careful and attentive, and Otoyo would chatter like a magpie with him."

"Oh, but he is so much older!" And then Nance wished she had bitten out her tongue, as Molly looked hurt and sad.

"Professor Green is not so terribly old! I think he is much more agreeable than callow youths who have no conversation beyond their own affairs."

"Now, Molly Brown, I didn't mean to say a thing to hurt your feelings or to imply that Professor Green was anything but perfection. He is not too old for y-us, I mean; but Otoyo is like a child."

"I am ashamed of myself, Nance, but I do get kind of tired of everybody's taking the stand that Professor Green is so old. He is the best man friend I ever had, and-and--" But Nance kissed her fondly, and she did not have to go on with her sentence, which was lucky, as she did not know how she was going to finish it without committing herself.

Kent had to fly back to Louisville to work at his chosen profession and try to learn how to do water color renderings of the architectural elevations; Judy back to New York to dig at her charcoal drawings and dream of swimming in color, with Kent striking out beside her; Dodo again at Johns Hopkins, learning much about medicine and how to "turkey trot" with a broken sofa; young Andy and Mr. Seshu at Harvard, studying the laws of their country, for was not Mr. Seshu fast becoming an American? They had their dreams, too, these two young men. Andy was looking forward to the day when he would not have to stop talking to Nance just at the most interesting turn of the argument, but could stay right along with her forever and ever,-and sure he was that they would never talk out! Mr. Seshu's dreams-but, after all, what do we know of his dreams? Certain we are that he looked favorably on the little Miss Sen, and that honorable Father Sen and honorable Father Seshu had a long and satisfactory talk in the shop in Boston with the beautiful j.a.panese prints hanging all around them, representing in themselves money enough to make the prospective young couple very wealthy.

Mr. Oldham went back to Vermont, also dreaming that the day might come when his little Nance would keep house for him, and he could leave the hated boarding house, and have a real home. Richard Blount returned to New York, dreaming, too, and his dream was of the beautiful mountain girl with the dignity and poise of a queen, eyes like the clear brown pools of autumn and a purposeful look on her young face that showed even a casual observer that she had a mission in life.

Mid-year examinations came and went. Melissa and Otoyo came through without a scratch, which made Molly rejoice as though it had been her own ordeal.

Domestic Science grew more thrilling; so interesting, indeed, that Molly could not decide for a whole day whether she would rather be a scientific cook or a great literary success. But a note from a magazine editor accepting her "Basket Funeral" and asking for more similar stories decided her in favor of literature. And on the same day, too, Professor Edwin Green said to her, "Please, Miss Molly, don't learn how to cook so well that you forget how to make popovers. I am afraid all of these scientific rules you are learning will upset the natural-born knowledge that you already possess, and your spontaneous genius will be choked by an academic style of cooking that would be truly deplorable."

Molly laughingly confided in the professor that she would not give one of Aunt Mary's hot turnovers for all of Miss Morse's scientifically made bread.

"I know her bread is perfect, but it lacks a certain taste and life, and is to the real thing what a marble statue is to flesh and blood. Judy described it, in speaking of the food at a lunchroom for self-supporting women that she occasionally goes to in New York, as being 'too chaste.'"

"That is exactly it, too chaste," agreed Professor Green.

"Of course, cooking is a small part of what we learn in Domestic Science,-food values, economic housekeeping, etc. It really is a very broad and far-reaching science."

They were in the professor's study, where Molly had come to tell him the good news about her story, and to ask his advice concerning what other of her character sketches she should send to the magazine. She was wearing her cap and gown, as she was just returning from a formal college function. When the young man greeted her, he had quickly rolled up something, looking a little shamefaced. But as they talked, he rolled and unrolled and finally determined to show the papers to her.

"Miss Molly, Kent has sent me the plans for my bungalow that I commissioned him at Christmas to get busy on. I wonder if you would care to see them."

"Of course I'd be charmed to, Professor Green. There is nothing in the world that is more interesting to me than plans of a house. Kent and I have been drawing them ever since we could hold pencils. Kent was the master hand at outside effects, and I was the housekeeper, who must have the proper pantry arrangements and conveniences."

"Well, please pa.s.s on these. The outside effects seem lovely to me, but I cannot tell about the interior."

Molly seated herself and pored over the prints, soon mastering the details with a practiced eye, noting dimensions and windows and doors.

"I think it is splendid, but do you really want my criticism?"

"I certainly do, more than any one's."

"Well, there is waste s.p.a.ce here that should be put in the store room.

This little pa.s.sage from dining-room to kitchen is entirely unnecessary and should be incorporated in the butler's pantry. These twin doors in the hall, one leading to the attic and one to the cellar, are no doubt very pretty, but they are not wide enough. An attic is for trunks, and how could one larger than a steamer trunk get through such a narrow door? A cellar is certainly for barrels and the like, and I am sure it would be a tug to pull a barrel through this little crack of a door. I'd allow at least nine inches more on each door, and that means a foot and a half off something. Let me see. It seems a pity to take it off of the living-room, and rather inhospitable to rob the guest chamber.

"Aunt Clay always puts the new towels in the guest chamber for the company to break in. She says company can't kick about the slick stiffness of them, and somehow it would seem rather Aunt Clayish to take that eighteen inches off of the poor unsuspecting guests, whoever they may be."

Molly sat a long time studying the plans, and she looked so sweet and so earnest that Edwin Green thought with regret of the tacit promise he had made Mrs. Brown: to let Molly stay a child for another year. How he longed to know his fate! How simple it would be while she was showing her interest in his little bungalow to ask her to tell him if she thought she could ever make it her little home, too! Was she the child her mother thought her? Did she think he was a "laggard in love," and despise him for a "faint heart"? Or could it be that she thought of him only as an old and trusted friend, too ancient to contemplate as anything but a professor of literature, and, at that, one who was building a home in which to spend his rapidly declining years?

"Time will tell," sighed the poor, conscientious young man, "but if I am letting my happiness slip through my fingers from a mistaken sense of duty, then I don't deserve anything but 'single blessedness'."

"I have it!" exclaimed Molly. "Have the cellar entrance outside by the kitchen door with a gourd pergola over both, and take this inside s.p.a.ce where the cellar door and steps were to be for a large closet in the poor guests' room, to make up to them for coming so near to losing a foot and a half off of their room."

"That suits me, if it suits you. Is there anything else?"

"If you won't tell Kent it is my suggestion, I do think the bathroom door ought to open in and not out. He and I have disagreed about doors ever since we were children.

"Do you know what plan Kent is making for mother and me? He wants us to go abroad next winter. Sue is to be married to her Cyrus in June, muddy lane and all; Paul and John are in Louisville most of the time, now that Paul is on a morning paper and has to work at night, and John is building up his practice and has to be on the spot; Kent hopes to be able to take a course at the Beaux Arts next winter if he can save enough money, and that would leave no one at Chatsworth but mother and me. There is no reason why we should not go, and you know I am excited about it; and, as for mother, she says she is like our country cousin who came to the exposition in Louisville and said in a grandiloquent tone, 'I am desirous to go elsewhere and view likewise.' Mother and I have never traveled anywhere, and it would be splendid for us. Don't you think so?"

"I certainly do, especially as next year is my sabbatical year of teaching, and I expect to have a holiday myself and do some traveling. I have something to dream of now, and that is to meet you and your mother in Europe and 'go elsewhere and view likewise' in your company!"

"Oh, Mother and I will be so glad to see you," exclaimed Molly. "I have brought a letter from Mildred to read to you, Professor Green. It is so like Mildred and tells so much of her life in Iowa that I thought it might interest you."

"Indeed it will. I have thought so often of that delightful young couple and the wonderful wedding in the garden."

So Molly began:

"'Dearest Sister:-You complain of having only second-hand letters from me and you are quite right. There is nothing more irritating than letters written to other people and handed down. Your letters should belong to you, and you only, just as much as your tooth-brush. You remember how mad it used to make Ernest to have his letters sent to Aunt Clay, and how he would put in bad words just to keep Mother from handing them on.