Molly Brown's Orchard Home Part 13

As the door closed on the two ladies, Jo suddenly reached out, and grabbing Polly by his flowing tie, she boxed his ears soundly. "There, you goose, I've been wanting to do that for years!"

Polly received the chastis.e.m.e.nt with the utmost delight and actually seemed to look upon it as a form of caress from the enraged Jo. He whispered to Molly: "I believe Jo is jealous of the beautiful Mrs.

Pace."

Mr. Kinsella asked Elise to take a walk with him that evening before dinner and they had the long talk that the girl had been eager for; and the little cloud of--not exactly jealousy, more envy of Judy's powers of attraction than jealousy, was dispelled for the time being.

CHAPTER XII.

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER.

The winter went merrily on. Elise and Judy worked diligently at Julien's, the hard academic drawing being good for them and helping to counteract a tendency both had to rather slipshod methods. They gave only the morning to the school and in the afternoon looked at pictures or painted at home, if they could get a model among their acquaintances.

Judy made some charming memory sketches of the Paris streets. Seeing some bit that took her fancy, going or coming, she would burn to get her impression on canvas. She could hardly wait to get her hat and coat off, but would come tearing into the studio, pulling off her wraps as she came, hair flying, cheeks glowing, looking very like Brer Rabbit, Molly declared, when he ran down the hill with the six tin plates fer the chillun to sop outen; and the six tin cups fer the chillun to drink outen; the coffee pot fer the fambly; and the hankcher fer hisself, hollerin': "Gimme room, gimme room". They gave her room, all right, especially if her medium happened to be water color, as Judy was a grand splasher and spared neither water nor paint.

Elise was delighting in her steady work, the first she had ever been allowed to do. She lacked Judy's sense of color but on the other hand was very clever at sketching and getting a likeness, and had inherited her father's inimitable powers of caricature.

"Oh," sighed Judy, "if I could only get the people in my memory sketches to stand on their legs and seem to move as yours do, Elise, how happy I should be!"

"And I," said Elise, "would give anything if I could see and put on canvas the lovely colors that you can. I can't see anything but drab, somehow. It must be a somberness of disposition that affects my eyesight."

"But, Elise," broke in Molly, "you are not somber at all. You are full of jokes and _bon mots_."

"Oh, that is just my way here with all of you lovely, good, happy people. I am usually very dull and sober. Mamma says I can be the stupidest company in all the world, and I am sure she is right."

Elise had indeed blossomed in the congenial atmosphere in which she found herself for the first time in her life. Mr. Kinsella watched her eagerly, seeing many things about her to remind him of his old friend George O'Brien; and when the girl occasionally let drop some of the worldly cynicism that she had perforce learned from her mother, the sad look in his eyes would make her quickly repent her bitterness, and her endeavors to bring back his rarely sweet smile were almost pathetic in their eagerness. Mrs. Brown understood the girl thoroughly and did everything in her power to make her feel that she was one of the little coterie and a valued member; but Elise found it difficult to look upon herself as anything but an outsider. She was sensitively afraid of being in the way where Molly's and Judy's intimacy was concerned, and the girls often had to force her to join them on a lark unless Mrs. Brown was one of the party.

Pierce was "making good," as he expressed it, at the school. He had gone through several years of hard drawing at the League in New York, so decided that he could give his time to the painting that was to be his life's work. His uncle was delighted with his progress, and felt that his own youth was not lost at all but reincarnated in the glowing genius of his beloved nephew.

Molly was studying at the Sorbonne, where her Cousin Philippe d'Ochte had duly installed her. It did not seem like studying, but more like going to the theater for several hours a day. The lecturers were so charming, so vivacious; their delivery was so dramatic, their gestures so animated. She drank in every word and found herself understanding French as she had never dreamed that she could.

She wrote on her stories when she was not attending the lectures. The Latin Quarter had given her several good plots and she was eager to work them out before Professor Green should put in his appearance, as she was anxious to let him see she had accomplished something during her Paris winter. That poor young man was still teaching the young idea how to shoot at Wellington and saw no hope of his release before March.

Kent Brown wrote cheerful letters from Kentucky. He was very busy in his chosen field of architecture and was learning French in a night cla.s.s to fit himself for the Beaux Arts when he would finally be able to get to Paris. Aunt Clay was fighting the Trust vindictively as only she could fight and was dying hard, but Kent predicted that the end was near; and as soon as the suit was settled, he intended to take the first steamer abroad.

Mrs. Brown was not concerning herself in the least about her financial affairs. She felt sure that sooner or later she would realize on the sale of oil lands, and in the meantime the economy she and Molly were compelled to practice was rather exciting and interesting than annoying.

Mrs. Brown had the happy faculty of adaptability, and living on Rue Brea she found there were many American students who were compelled to exercise the greatest thrift to exist.

Poor Polly Perkins was a sad example of the unproductive consumer. He had never earned a cent in his life and it looked as though he never would earn one, but still he stayed on in Paris, hoping against hope that his luck would change and that he could either sell a picture or that his cubist theories would become so popular that pupils would flock to him to sit at the feet of learning. He had a small monthly remittance from home that enabled him to pay his rent and by the strictest economy to clothe himself in the artistic garb of the Quarter (velveteen is fortunately very durable and not very costly); also to feed and partly nourish his far from robust little body. Mrs. Brown and Molly felt very sorry for Polly.

"He is such a sad little fellow," said Molly, "and he is very kind and good and takes Jo's teasing and bossing so patiently. He is really sincere about his art, and just because we can't see his way, we ought not to laugh at him. I believe Jo likes him a lot more than she knows she does. It nearly kills her for him to make himself ridiculous. I am crazy to see his portrait of Mrs. Pace. I do hope I can keep my face straight when he unveils it for us."

"Mrs. Pace declares it is wonderful. She told your Cousin Sally and me that it was a speaking likeness."

"Well, any likeness of Mrs. Pace would have to be a speaking likeness,"

laughed Molly.

Mrs. Brown and Molly were having one of their confidential talks, rather rare at that time, as Judy and Elise were usually at home when Molly was; or if mother and daughter did have a few moments alone, they were interrupted by callers: the Kinsellas or the d'Ochtes, Jo Williams or Polly Perkins or some of the new acquaintances they had made among the students.

"Mother, don't you notice a kind of sadness about Elise lately? She does not seem to me to be quite herself. Sometimes that old bitter way of talking gets hold of her and although she knows it pains Mr. Kinsella, she takes especial delight in giving vent to this satire when he is present. I am glad he has gone off to the Riviera for a change. She is devoted and grateful to him for influencing her mother to let her have the winter in Paris, but she has taken a strange way to show her grat.i.tude in the last week or so.

"Did you see an almost noisy flirtation she was having with Philippe the last time we had all of them in to tea? She was not a bit like her sincere self, the natural, well-bred Elise that we all love so much, but more like her mother with her smart-set manner and flippant witticisms.

I thought Cousin Sally was a little concerned about her precious Philippe. Cousin Sally is much more Frenchified in her soul than she dreams. I believe she is going to control the destiny of her son just as much as any mother in France."

Mrs. Brown smiled. She had an idea that she knew what Sally Bolling's plans for her son were: namely, her own Molly Brown. But since Molly herself had no idea of it, she was the last woman in the world to suggest it to her. She felt sure of her Molly, sure that no rank or wealth would influence her in choosing a mate (if choose one she must).

She was confident that Molly liked Professor Green better than any man she knew, and that Philippe d'Ochte with all his charm and good looks, wealth and position, did not appeal to her little daughter as did Edwin Green, the quiet, scholarly professor with no wealth at all. She had mentioned the professor only casually to her cousin, Sally d'Ochte, as she did not feel it was inc.u.mbent upon her to speak of him as Molly's lover, since Molly herself did not consider him as one.

As for Philippe's heart, she did not think there was any danger of its being broken. She had carefully observed her young cousin and could see no sign of the languis.h.i.+ng lover. That young man seemed to find difficulty in deciding which young lady he considered the most attractive. Molly was all that was lovely and sweet and delightful; Judy had a singular charm for him, with her vivacious manner and originality; Elise O'Brien evidently amused him and interested him greatly; and now a new star had come on his horizon: Frances Andrews, whom he had met at the Browns' and found very fascinating, a mixture of American and French. Philippe had, in truth, met too many charmers in too short a s.p.a.ce of time and they had proved an embarra.s.sment of riches, as it were.

His Cousin Mildred Brown knew what safety in numbers there was for him, and hoped he would not come to the conclusion that her Molly was the one of all others for him. Not that she did not like him. She was very fond of him and fully appreciated all of the d'Ochte kindness to her and her little crowd of girls; but she had in a measure given her word to Edwin Green: that if he would not speak to Molly of his love for her for a year, he would find her daughter still unattached. She felt that she had done right in asking this of Professor Green. She was confident that she knew Molly's inmost thoughts and feelings, and that if she had any preference at all, it was for the young professor.

There were times when this anxious mother realized that one could not be too c.o.c.ksure about the heart of anyone, even of one's own flesh and blood. Molly had noticed that Elise was not herself, and Mrs. Brown had noticed that none of her girls were quite themselves. For the last few days there had been a condition in the apartment in the Rue Brea of nerves at high tension; tempers a little uncertain; feelings a little tender. Mrs. Brown held her peace and endeavored tactfully to steer their little _menage_ safely over the shoals.

She thought she understood Elise. The poor girl was suffering with jealousy of Judy, who had plunged into an intimacy with the Kinsellas, uncle and nephew alike. She and Pierce would go on long tramps into the country and play a kind of game of memory sketches, seeing which one could bring home the greater number of impressions. Mr. Kinsella had become interested in their game and had joined them on one of their walks, becoming so fired with enthusiasm that he had actually tried to do some painting himself. He had been quite successful, considering the number of years that had pa.s.sed since he had even so much as squeezed paint out of a tube. They had asked Elise to join them, but she had coldly refused. After those walks had become so popular with the trio, then it was that Elise had begun a rather half-hearted flirtation with Philippe d'Ochte.

Judy was in one of her gayest and most irritating moods. "Getting ready for what she calls 'a Judy Kean sc.r.a.pe,' I am afraid," thought Mrs.

Brown. "Our winter has been so peaceful and harmonious; but this mist will clear away soon, I know."

Judy seemed to realize that she was hurting Elise in some way but to be perfectly careless of the result. She never lost an opportunity to give Molly a dig about Frances Andrews, and when that young woman had come to the studio to tea, Judy had been very cold and almost rude to her.

Molly, on her side, was a little distrait and listless and very touchy.

"What is the matter with my girls?" thought poor Mrs. Brown. "For the last week they have been like naughty children."

When Molly and her mother were having the little confidential talk recorded above, the elder lady did not realize that two American mails had come and that neither Judy nor Molly had received the bulky epistles that they usually did,--Judy one from Kentucky, and Molly one from Wellington. This was the cause of their unreasonable tempers. And had she but known it, on the other side of the Atlantic her own son Kent was eaten up with the green-eyed monster all because Judy had mentioned the name of Kinsella six times in her last letter! And he, Kent, had only that morning called his brother Paul "a conceited a.s.s" because Paul had on a cravat to match his socks; and he had been equally unreasonable with a misguided waiter who brought him macaroni when he ordered spaghetti.

As for the dignified Professor Green, he had actually "hollered" at a poor freshman who had in reading some poetry p.r.o.nounced "unshed tears"

as though unshed were in one syllable. "'Unched tears', I could almost shed them," said the much-tried teacher; and all because a certain Molly Brown had a cousin Philippe who was kind enough to see that she heard all the lectures worth while at the Sorbonne.

Mrs. Brown decided to take Molly into her confidence and divulge to her her ideas concerning Elise and Mr. Kinsella. Molly was astonished and delighted.

"Oh, mother, how wise you are and how blind I am! I realize now how Elise must have suffered and all for nothing. I just know Mr. Kinsella adores her. I see it all. He went off just because he thought Elise was serious about Philippe and he could not stay to see it. How I wish he would come back and it could all be set right, and dear Elise could make up to him for all the suffering her mother caused him! I do wish I could put a flea in Judy's ear and she would behave."

"But you must not do that, my dear," said Mrs. Brown. "That would not be quite fair to Elise. You see it is only surmise on our part."

"Right as usual, mother, but it is going to be hard to see things going wrong when a word would right them. Judy means no harm and is really doing nothing. She takes long walks with Mr. Kinsella and Pierce, and Mr. Kinsella delights in Judy's frankness and originality. He likes to be with her, but as for thinking of her in any other light than as Pierce's playmate,--I don't believe it has entered his head."

"I am sure it hasn't; but Elise has had very few friends and has been brought up in such a selfish world, that she is perhaps p.r.o.ne to see the wrong motive. Molly, do you feel well? I have fancied you were a little pale lately and not quite so enthusiastic as usual."

Just then there was a knock on the door and the concierge's little son entered, bringing a stack of mail. One from Wellington was on top, and Molly was able truthfully to tell her mother that she never felt better in her life.

CHAPTER XIII.