Molly Brown's Orchard Home

by Nell Speed

  CHAPTER II.

  BON VOYAGE.

  Mrs. Brown and her daughter Molly were at last safely off on what theycalled their "great adventure." They had waved their handkerchiefs untilthe dock at Hoboken was nothing more than a blur to them and they feltsure that the _Laurens_ was little more than a speck to the friends thathad turned up to see them off.

  Molly's classmates at Wellington College, Katherine and Edith Williams,Edith with the nice, new husband whom Molly was overjoyed to meet, hadappeared, bearing books and candy for the trip. Jimmy Lufton, of course,just to show that there was no hard feeling, as he whispered to Molly,was there, also, doing everything for their comfort; finding theirluggage; engaging the steamer chairs; seeing to it that the stewardessunderstood about the baths before breakfast; and attending to manythings of the importance of which Molly and her mother were ignorant.

  Richard Blount, too, had turned up ten minutes before sailing, but hehad managed to get in a word with Molly about Melissa Hathaway.

  "She is a queen among women, Miss Molly, and I consider that Edwin Greenis a lucky dog to have the privilege of teaching her. To think of seeingher day after day and hearing her read poetry with that wonderful voice!He tells me she is the most remarkable reader he has ever known. I amtoo fond of old Ed to hate him, otherwise I should find it easy. By theway I have left something in care of the steward for you and your motheras a cure for seasickness. You will find that there is nothing like it!"

  "Oh, thank you so much! I feel sure that I shall not be sick, but I amjust as obliged as though I were going to be. Mother may be. You see wehave never been on the ocean in our lives, but we have always felt thatwe would like it beyond anything, and that liking it so much would keepus from being harmed by it," Molly had answered, a little chagrined atwhat Richard Blount had had to say about Professor Green and Melissa,but determined not to show it to that young man or to let herself thinkthere was anything in it.

  Miss Grace Green and dear, good Mary Stewart had been on the steamerwaiting when Molly and her mother came aboard. Their devotion to Mollywas so apparent that they won Mrs. Brown's heart at once, and thatcharming lady with her cordial manner and gracious bearing as usual madeMolly's friends hers.

  Miss Green had had a little private talk with Molly, giving her messagesfrom her younger brother, Dodo, and telling her what she knew ofProfessor Edwin's disappointment in having to go on with his duties forthe time being at least. Molly had not had a chance to open and read thesteamer letter he had written her, but was forced to postpone it untilthe vessel sailed and she could compose herself after the flurry ofgood-bys and the bustle of the departure.

  There were many letters waiting in the cabin, but the harbor was sofascinating to these two women who had done so little traveling, thatthey could not tear themselves from the deck until they were out ofsight of land.

  "Mother, isn't it too lovely and aren't we going to be the happiest pairon earth? I am glad we are seeing the ocean for the first time together,because you know exactly how I feel and I know how you feel. The idea ofour being seasick! Richard Blount sent some remedy to the steamer forus, just in case we were seasick. It was very kind of him but absolutelyunnecessary, I am sure. I never felt better in my life and look, thereis quite a little swell."

  "Seasick indeed! I have no more feeling of sickness than I have on theOhio River at home," said Mrs. Brown, taking deep breaths of the bracingsalt air. "I suspect it is incumbent upon us to go read our letters now,but I must say I do not want to miss one moment on deck during ourentire voyage. I feel as though twenty years had dropped off me." Andindeed she looked it, too, with a pretty pink in her cheeks and her wavyhair blown about her face.

  Molly rather wanted to read Professor Green's letter first, but she putit aside and opened those from Nance Oldham and several other collegemates. Then she discovered a thoroughly characteristic note from AuntClay, dry and dictatorial but enclosing a check for ten dollars onMonroe & Co., the Paris bankers. "For you and your extravagant mother tospend on foolishness," wrote that stern lady.

  "Oh, Mother! Isn't she hateful? How easy it would have been to send apleasant message with the check! Now all the fun of having it is goneand I have a great mind to send it back!"

  "No, my dear, don't do that. Your Aunt Clay does not mean to be asunkind as she seems. I know she intended this check as a kind of peaceoffering to me, and we must take it as she meant it and pay no attentionto her words."

  "Mother, you are an angel and I have to hug you right here in the cabin,even if that black-eyed man over there with the pile of telegrams infront of him is looking a hole through us."

  She suited the action to the word and Mrs. Brown, emerging from the bearhug that Molly was prone to give, surprised a smile on the dark face oftheir fellow traveler. He was seated across from them at the same tablebehind a pile of telegrams a foot high, and was very busy opening themessages, making notes on them as he read. He was an interesting lookingman with dark, fathomless eyes, swarthy complexion and iron gray hair,but he bore a youthful look that made one feel he had not the right ofyears to the gray hair. His expression was gloomy and not altogetherpleasant, but when he smiled he displayed a row of dazzling white teethand his eyes lost the sad look and held the smile long after his mouthhad closed with a determined click.

  "'Duty before pleasure,' as King Richard said when he killed the oldking before a-smothering of the babies," said Molly as she finished AuntClay's letter and opened Edwin Green's. What a nice letter it was to besure! She laughed aloud over his wanting to throw Rosetti at the girland blushed with pleasure at the compliment to her reading of theblessed Damozel, for well she knew whom he had in mind. His praise ofMelissa would have merely pleased her as praise of her friends alwaysdid, had she not already been somewhat disturbed by what Dicky Blounthad said to her of Professor Edwin Green and the beautiful mountaingirl.

  "I am a silly girl and intend to put all such foolish notions out of myhead," declared Molly to herself. "Surely Professor Green has as muchright to make friends as I have, and I intend to know as many people andlike as many as I can. I am not the least bit in love with EdwinGreen,--but somehow I don't think he and Melissa are suited to oneanother."

  As the young girl sat reading over her letter, a feeling of sadness andloneliness took possession of her and, looking up, she surprised afurtive tear in her mother's eye. Mrs. Brown was reading a letter fromher married daughter Mildred, then living in Iowa where her husbandCrittenden Rutledge was at work as a bridge engineer.

  The cabin had begun to fill with people who were leaving decks andstaterooms to hunt up their letters and belongings and generally preparethemselves for a ten-day trip on the Atlantic.

  "Mother, they say this is a small steamer, but it seems huge to me! Didyou ever see so many strange people? I don't believe we ever shall knowany of them. They all of them look at home and I feel so far from home.Don't you?"

  "Now, Molly, please don't get blue or I shall have to weep outright. Ofcourse we shall come to know most of the passengers and no doubt willfind many charming persons ready to know and like us. Suppose we hurryup with our letters and go on deck again."

  Just then a young man bounded into the cabin, made a hasty survey of thecrowd and came rapidly over to the dark gentleman seated opposite them.

  "Oh, Uncle Tom, how can you stay down in this stuffy cabin? There is asunset on the water that is just screaming out to be looked at. As forthat work, you have ten days to attend to those tiresome telegrams andletters."

  "Nonsense, Pierce, I have no idea of waiting ten days for this importantbusiness. You forget the wireless," answered the uncle, looking fondlyat the enthusiastic young fellow, who was so like him except for thegray hair that it was almost ludicrous.

  "Oh, goodness gracious me, where is your holiday to be, with you tied toyour Mother Country with a stringless apron? That is what that oldwireless telegraphy reminds me of," laughed the young man, showing allhis perfect teeth. "Well, I've got your chair and stea
mer rug all readyfor you and all you have to do is come sit in it."

  "Now, Pierce, don't wait on me. Part of having a holiday is to forgethow old I am. When I get these telegrams off, I am going to show you howskittish I can be and forget all about business. I fancy you will haveto hold me back in my race for a good time. This limerick is to be mymotto:

  "Said this long-legged daddy of Troy, 'Although I'm no longer a boy, I bet I can show You chaps how to go.' Which he did to his own savage joy."

  Mrs. Brown and Molly could not help overhearing this conversation and atthe above limerick they laughed outright. The young man called Piercelooked at them with a friendly glance and the uncle smiled another ofhis rare smiles, which made the ladies from Kentucky feel that the oceanwas not going to be such a terribly lonesome place after all. Theygathered up their belongings and made their way on deck to view thesunset that was "screaming to be looked at."

  "It really is worth seeing, isn't it, Mother? Somehow, though, I neverdo like to be made to look at a sunset. The persons who insist on yourdoing it always seem to have a kind of proprietary air. Now that youngman wanted to bulldoze his uncle into coming when--when----" Mollystopped suddenly, realizing that the two men in great-coats, with thecollars turned up to their ears, who had taken their places at therailing next to her mother, were no other than the two in question.

  "You are perfectly right, madam," said the elder, raising his hat. "Thisnephew of mine is always doing it. Now I should much rather come on deckwhen the sun is down and see the after-glow. The crepuscule appeals tome more than the brilliancy of the sunset."

  "I fancy my daughter had no complaint to make of the brilliancy of thecolor, but of being coerced into looking at it. She likes to be thediscoverer herself and the one to make others come to look. Isn't it so,Molly?"

  "Maybe it is," said Molly blushing. "I did not really mean much ofanything and was just talking for talk's sake."

  "Anyhow," spoke the nephew, "this sunset is mine and I think it isbeautiful and all of you have simply got to look at it." Turning toMolly, "You can have to-morrow's and make us look all you want to, butthis is my discovery."

  The ice was broken and Molly and her mother made their firstacquaintances on their travels. Mr. Kinsella introduced himself and hisnephew Pierce and in the course of half an hour they were all goodsteamer friends. Everyone must make up his or her mind to be ready tomake friends on a steamer or to have a very stupid, lonesome crossing.Mrs. Brown and Molly were both too sociable and friendly to be guilty ofsuch standoffishness and were as pleased at making friends with the twoKinsellas as those gentlemen were to secure such pleasant companions asthese ladies were proving themselves to be.

  "We are all of us to be at the captain's table," said Pierce.

  "And how do you know where we are to be?" asked Molly. "I don't knowmyself where we are to sit, and how can you know?"

  "Oh, that is easy. While you and your mother and Uncle Tom were busyreading your letters and before I got my sunset ready, I was finding outthings like Rikki-tikki. First I got the steward's list and located theKinsellas at mess; then I looked over all the names and where the peoplehailed from and decided that Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky sounded kindof cheerful. And when I knew there was a Mrs. Brown along, too, Idecided that Miss Molly Brown was young enough to have a mother alongand the mother was young enough to be along, and you were more thanlikely a pretty nice couple to cultivate. The steward told me you wereto be at the captain's table, too, as you were friends of Miss MaryStewart. Her father owns much stock in these nice old tubs of steamers,and the daughter had made a special request that you should be very welllooked after."

  "Isn't that too like Mary? She did not say one word about it. Thataccounts for our having such a lovely stateroom to ourselves, too. Wehad engaged a stateroom that was supposed to hold three persons. Thecompany had the privilege of putting someone else in with us, and as thesteamer is quite full, of course we had expected to have a roommate. Wehated the thought of it, too, but it was so much less expensive. AndMother and I hoped to spend most of our time on deck, anyhow. We couldnot understand the number not being the same as that on our tickets, butthought the officials knew best and if we did not belong there theywould oust us in good time."

  "Well, I am jolly glad you have the best stateroom on board. Uncle triedto get it but had to content himself with second best."

  "Are you seasick, as a rule? I do hope not," asked the young man of Mrs.Brown, who had been conversing with Mr. Kinsella while the nephew andMolly were making friends.

  "No, we don't make it a rule to be any kind of sick; but my daughter andI are on the ocean for the first time. In fact, we are really seeing theocean for the first time and do not know how we are to behave. So far wefeel as well as possible, but I fancy such a smooth sea is no test."

  "Only fancy, Uncle Tom, what it must seem to see the ocean for the firsttime! I almost wish I had never seen it until now, just for thesensation."

  "There was a superior New York girl at Wellington College who had agreat time trying to tease me because I had never seen the ocean. Shekept it up so long that I began to feel like a 'po' nigger at a frolic',so I retaliated by asking her if she had ever been to a hanging. Icompletely took the wind out of her sails, and then confessed that Ihadn't either," said Molly with a laugh.

  "Good for you, Miss Brown, give it to him. New York people are certainlyvery superior in their own estimation and need a good taking down everynow and then. They are often more provincial than villagers, with noexcuse for so being," and Mr. Kinsella gave his nephew an affectionatepush.

  The air was clear and crisp, with a rising wind that gave promise of aheavy sea. The passengers had begun to fill the decks, dragging steamerchairs into sheltered nooks and looking about for desirable places outof the wind, where they could see the sun set and the moon rise, get outof the way of the smokestacks, the fog horn and the whistle, and at thesame time be in a good locality to see everything that was going on.Molly and her mother were much amused at the sight. They were bothinclined to be rather careless of their ease and it had never enteredtheir heads to hustle and bustle to make themselves comfortable on thetrip.

  "Jimmy Lufton has had our chairs placed on deck and lashed to therailing. He said he knew we would never look out for ourselves, andunless he saw to it, we would go abroad standing up or sitting on thefloor! He tagged our chairs, too, as our names were on the backs only.He said there were always some 'chair hogs' who would push the chairsagainst the wall with the name out of sight and refuse to budge," saidMolly.

  "Where are your chairs?" asked Pierce. "Let's go find them and afterwardwe can get Uncle's and mine and have a snug foursome of a chat. Oh, MissBrown, how lovely your mother is! I want to paint her; but I should haveto put you in the picture, too, so that I could catch the wonderfulexpression on her face. It is when she is looking at _you_ that she ismost lovely."

  "Well, don't you think I could be present to inspire the desiredexpression without being in the picture?" laughed Molly, delighted bythe praise of her beloved mother. "But can you paint? I have beenwondering what you are and what your uncle is, but I did not like to betoo inquisitive."

  "Well, one does not have to be with me long to hear the story of mylife," said the boy. "You ask if I can paint: yes, I can paint; not aswell as I want to by a long shot, but I mean to be a great painter. Thatsounds conceited, but it is not. I have talent and there is no use inbeing mealy-mouthed over it. To be a great painter means work, work,work; and I am prepared to do that with every breath I breathe. Paintingisn't work to me; it is joy and life. Besides, I mean to make it up toUncle for his disappointment in life, and the only way I can do it is bysucceeding."

  Molly was dying to know more about the uncle and what his disappointmentwas, but she was too well bred to show her desire and Pierce did notseem inclined to go on with his family disclosures. He stood looking attwo ladies who had just come on deck, followed by a maid carrying rugsand cushions. The ladie
s were a very handsome mother and daughter,although the mother appeared too young to have such a verysophisticated, grown-up daughter. They were beautifully dressed in longfur coats and small toques. "Rather warm for October," thought Molly,but the rising cold wind soon made her know her mistake.

  "There are our chairs," said Molly, starting toward the railing wherethe ever handy-man, Jimmy, had lashed the two steamer chairs.

  At the same moment the elegant, fur-clad lady rapidly crossed the deckand placing her hand on the back of the nearest chair, said in a coldand haughty tone to the maid: "Here, Marie, place the rugs and cushionsin these chairs. They will do quite nicely."

  "Excuse me, but these chairs are ours, mine and my mother's," saidMolly. "But we are not going to use them until after supper, I meandinner, so you are welcome to them until then."

  "Some mistake surely," rejoined the older woman, eying Molly scornfullythrough her lorgnette. "You will have to complain to the steward if youcannot find your chairs, young woman; these are mine, engaged and paidfor." With that, she prepared to seat herself with the help of the maid,who was blushing furiously, mortified by the flagrant untruth of hermistress.

  Molly was, by nature, easy-going and peace-loving and her inclinationwas to leave the haughty dame in possession of the chairs and beat ahasty retreat; but she remembered Jimmy Lufton's remark about "chairhogs" and a joking promise she had made him to stand up for her motherif not for herself, so she braced herself for battle. Despite hergirlish face and figure, Molly Brown could command as much dignity asany member of the Four Hundred.

  With a polite smile and gently modulated voice she said, very calmly andfirmly: "Madam, as I said before, these are my chairs but you are quitewelcome to them until after dinner. If you have any doubt about it, youwill find our names on the backs; but to save you the trouble of movingto look behind you, if you will be so kind as to glance at these tagsyou can verify my statement."

  "Oh, I did not dream I was to call forth such a tirade," yawned thenonplussed woman, reading the tags: "'Mrs. M. Brown, Kentucky; Miss M.Brown, Kentucky.' If you are not going to use the chairs until afterdinner, my daughter and I will just stay in them until otherarrangements can be made. These small steamers are wretchedly managed. Ican't imagine where our chairs are. Elise," calling to her daughter, "itseems these are not our chairs, after all."

  "Well, I did not think they could be, as these chairs seem real enoughand ours are entirely imaginary," answered the daughter rudely. "Mother,this is Mr. Kinsella, whom I have known at the Art Students' League. Mymother, Mrs. Huntington, Mr. Kinsella."

  "I am so glad to meet you, Mrs. Huntington. Your daughter, Miss O'Brien,and I have been working in the same costume class at the League. I didnot dream she was to be on this boat and when I saw her come on deck Ithought I was seeing ghosts."

  Pierce had come eagerly forward to meet the mother of the interestinggirl he had known and liked at the art school; but Mrs. Huntingtonlooked as though she, too, were seeing ghosts. She shrank back in herdown pillows and her face became pinched and pale, and it was a momentbefore the hardened woman of the world could command her voice to returnthe greeting of the young man.

  "Kinsella, did you say? Could you be Tom Kinsella's son? You arestrangely like him."

  "Thank you, madam, for that. There is no one I want to be like so muchas my Uncle Tom. I am his nephew; my uncle has never married. Did youknow my uncle? He is on board and I know would be glad to renew hisacquaintance with you. But let me introduce Miss Brown to both of you."

  The two girls shook hands, and as they looked in each other's eyes,Molly felt in her heart an instinctive liking for the older girl. Therewas something honest and straight about her face despite the rathersullen expression of her mouth. She was beautiful, besides, and beautyalways appealed to Molly,--almost always, at least, for although Mrs.Huntington was beautiful, too, Molly felt no leaning toward her. Motherand daughter looked enough alike to make it not difficult to guess therelationship at the first glance; but the more one saw of them, thefainter grew the resemblance. The older woman was smaller, fairer andplumper; her hair was golden while the daughter's was light brown; hercomplexion pink and white, the daughter's rather sallow; her eyes babyblue, the other's gray green. But the daughter's features were morepronounced and her well-cut chin and mouth showed character and pride,while the mother's looked a little petulant.

  "I am very glad to meet you, Miss Brown. I believe I have heard of you.Aren't you Julia Kean's 'Molly'?" And Elise O'Brien gave Molly's hand alittle squeeze.

  "Of course I am. To think of your knowing my Judy! You must have met herat the League. Perhaps you knew her, too, Mr. Kinsella."

  "Who? Miss Kean? I should say I did. She was the life of the outdoorsketch club we got up; and believe me, she has a soul for color. Why,that little 'postage stamp landscape' she had in the American Artists'Exhibition was a winner. Did you see a memory sketch she did for thefinal exhibition at the League? It was a tall girl in black standing upsinging and a beautiful red-headed girl in diaphanous blue playing anaccompaniment on a guitar, with a background of holly and a great bunchof mistletoe at one side." Pierce stopped suddenly in the midst of hisdescription of Judy's picture and, gazing intently at Molly, cried out,"By the great jumping jingo, if Miss Brown isn't the red-headed girl indiaphanous blue!"

  "Yes, I saw it," exclaimed Elise, "and thought it was wonderfullyclever. Miss Kean got a splendid likeness of you, considering it wasfrom memory."

  "Oh, Judy has sketched me until she says doing me is almost as easy aswriting her name. That must have been the Christmas party at ProfessorGreen's when Melissa Hathaway was singing 'The Mistletoe Bough.' Iremember Judy sat opposite us and I almost laughed out because she keptmaking pictures in the air with her thumb, which is a habit of hers whenanything appeals to her as paintable. Won't it be splendid to see heragain? Are you both going to Paris? You know Judy is there now and mymother and I are to join her."

  "Glorious!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Pierce. "Of course I am goingthere; but how about you, Miss O'Brien?"

  "Oh, I am to be there for a while, but my art is not consideredseriously enough for me to stick at it long enough to accomplish much.Mother thinks Paris is nothing but one big shop, and when she has boughtall the clothes we are supposed not to be able to be decent without, wehave to go on. I am going to work while she shops. Thank goodness, sheis so fussy that it takes her twice as long to get an outfit as it wouldanyone else, so I shall have time to get in some work," answered thegirl bitterly.

  Just then the gong was sounded for dinner. There was a general movementtoward the saloon and the growing darkness prevented Molly from seeingthe resentment on the face of Mrs. Huntington, if resentment she held,at the daughter's rudeness toward her.

  "Such a nice girl," thought Molly, "and so clever and beautiful! Buthow, how can she be so horrid to her mother? There is no telling whatprovocation she has, though. Her mother was certainly not honest aboutthe chairs; but then, your mother is your mother. Thank goodness, AuntClay is not mine!"

  Molly hastened to her own mother's side and they made their way to thefirst meal on board.