Molly Brown's Orchard Home

by Nell Speed

  CHAPTER XIII.

  A JULIA KEAN SCRAPE.

  One day in late February when there was a faint hint of spring in theair, on the way to the art school Judy said to Elise:

  "I am dead tired of drawing from a model indoors. I've a great mind tocut the whole thing and do something desperate. I know the sap is risingin the trees and the color is getting wonderful and more wonderful everyday. I believe I'll go on a high old lonesome to the country, take mysketch box, pick up some luncheon where I happen to land and have ageneral holiday. Why don't you come, too?"

  "Thank you, no. If I should go, too, it would not be a high old lonesomefor you; and then, besides, I am so interested in the model this week,"said Elise.

  She did not say that she half expected Mr. Kinsella back that afternoonand could not bear to be out of Paris when he returned. Mr. Kinsella hadbeen off on a three weeks' jaunt, and during his absence Elise had takenherself severely to task for her behavior to him and to everyone. Shehad reasoned herself into seeing how absurd her jealousy was towardJudy, and when Mr. Kinsella should return, he was to find a muchchastened Elise.

  "But, Judy," continued Elise, "if you do go, you will skip a criticismfrom the master; and then, isn't it a little imprudent for you to go outto the country all alone?"

  "Oh, I am glad to skip a criticism from old C----, he is such an oldfogy. All he can say is: '_Ca va mieux, mademoiselle, ca va mieux!_' Asfor being imprudent going to the country alone, why, I am surely bigenough, old enough and ugly enough to take care of myself," and Judymade a face and assumed a militant air.

  "Well, you are ridiculous enough to carry through any project," laughedElise. "And where will you go, you big, ugly, old thing?"

  "Oh, not far. St. Cloud, perhaps. I fancy I'll be back before you gethome. I am not so crazy about being by myself when I once get there. Iam a gregarious animal when all is told. Good-by, my love to old C----,"and Judy swung off, determined to take one of the little boats to St.Cloud.

  It was a glorious day. The water of the Seine was clear and blue; thelittle boats were puffing up and down; the fishermen lined the walls andpatiently and diligently cast their hooks. Judy stood on the Pont Neufglad she was living; glad she was in Paris and had eyes to see it andears to hear it; glad of her truancy; gladdest of all when one oldfisherman actually caught a fish and she was there to behold it. She hadbeen told that none were ever caught, that the fishermen sat there dayafter day, year after year, with never a reward for their patience. Shewandered up the quay, not certain whether she would take a boat to St.Cloud or go to the station and catch a train for Versailles. As sheloafed along, an ogling old man joined her and with volubleprotestations assured her of his admiration of her beauty. Judy gave hima withering glance and, quickening her pace, soon left him far behind.

  "That is exactly what Papa warned me against," she thought. "He said:'Never loaf along the streets when you are alone. Have some business toattend to and attend to it and no one will have anything to say to you.'I must assume some business if I have it not."

  She accordingly put on an air of great purpose, grasped her sketchingkit very firmly, and went and got on a little "penny puff puff" that wasjust starting out for Sevres and St. Cloud.

  St. Cloud was beautiful, indeed. The sap was rising in the trees and afew buds were showing their noses on bush and shrub. There was a hazeover everything like a tulle veil, and Judy had an idea if that wouldlift, she could catch a glimpse of spring. She remembered that thesegroves were the ones that Corot loved to paint and indeed the effect wasvery much that obtained by that great artist: a soft, lovely, mistyatmosphere, with vistas through the trees, and an occasional glimpse ofshining water. Judy made several tiny "postage stamp" sketches. "Takingnotes from nature," she called it.

  "I wish some nymphs would come dancing out now," she exclaimed. "Corotcould call them up at any time, and why not I? 'I can call spirits fromthe vasty deep. And so can I, and so can any man; but will they comewhen you do call them thus?'" No nymphs came, but a wedding partyappeared, the buxom bride dressed in white with a long veil and wreathof artificial orange blossoms, the groom in dress coat, gray trousers,and red cravat.

  St. Cloud is a famous place for wedding parties of the _petitbourgeois_, and Judy felt herself to be very fortunate to witness thisfirst one of the spring. The bride's dress looked rather chilly forFebruary although it was such a warm, sunny day; but through the coarselace yoke it was easy to see that the prudent young woman had on asensible red flannel undershirt, and as she turned around and around inthe mazes of the dance, with the ecstatic groom, an equally sensiblegray woolen petticoat was in plain view. A hurdy-gurdy furnished themusic and the greensward was their ballroom floor. Everyone danced, oldand young, fat and lean.

  Judy sat entranced and beat time with her eager feet. It was such agood-natured crowd. The groom's mother danced with the bride's father,and the bride's mother danced with the groom's father. Everyone had apartner and everyone seemed to feel it to be his or her duty as well aspleasure to dance as long as the hurdy-gurdy man could grind out a tune.The fat mother of the bride (at least Judy thought she must be hermother from a similarity of gray woolen petticoats) sank on the benchalmost into the wet sketch with the Corot effect, and made speechlesssignals that she could proceed no farther. Her disconsolate partner wasnot nearly through with his breath or enthusiasm. He was as lean as hispartner was fat and had not so much to carry as the poor mother of thebride. He took two or three steps alone, kicking out his long legs likea jumping-jack, and then he made a sudden resolve. Coming over to Judy,he took off his hat, pressed it to his starched shirt bosom, made a lowbow and asked her to take pity on a poor old man who would have to dancealone, as dance he must, unless she would be his partner.

  Impulsive Julia Kean found herself on a terrace at St. Cloud, spinningaround like a dancing dervish. She, with her partner, danced down thewhole wedding party; even the untiring street piano gave up, and theirlast spin was taken without music. The good-natured revelers applaudedloudly; and some of them congratulated her on her powers of endurance;and the flattered _bon pere_ declared that in his youth he had been ableto dance down three charming partners but he had never had the pleasureof dancing with a young lady with the endurance of the English miss.With that, he heard a scornful "Bah" from his good wife, who berated himfor his stupidity in not knowing _l'Americaine_ from _l'Anglaise_.

  "An English lady would be scornful of our kind, but an American wouldnot be so particular, blockhead?" And the large grenadier of a woman,looking like one of the commune, gave his ear a playful tweak.

  "My wife is jealous, mademoiselle. She was ever thus," said the leandancer; and all the company roared with delight at his wit. Then thehurdy-gurdy started up a brisk polka. Judy was claimed by the grinninggroom, and once more her endurance was put to the test. For the honor ofher country, she was glad of her athletic training and record atWellington. The bride was dancing with her new father-in-law, Judy'sformer partner, and it was recognized at the beginning that this was tobe fight to the finish between the two couples.

  "Breathe through your nose and save your wind," she whispered to herpartner, who was puffing like a porpoise and showed signs of giving in.The others had one by one succumbed to fatigue and were now sitting in amore or less exhausted state on the various benches, noisily applaudingthe endurance of the spinning couples and betting on their favorites.

  The groom was not the man his father was, but he had youth in his favor;and Judy had the advantage of the bride in lightness and training. Theold father was beginning to look grim and haggard, and the bride veryhot, with her red flannel shirt showing in splotches through her moistwedding finery. Judy's soul was filled with compassion. This was thebride's day and no honor should be wrested from her. If the husbandscored one on her to-day she might never catch even, and he might holdthe whip hand over her for the rest of their married life. As for theold man, it was hard enough to be old and have young ones usurp yourplace.

  Jud
y made a sudden resolve to let her opponents win. She was thestronger member of their team and knew if it had not been for herendurance, the young man would have given in long ago; so assuming ashortness of breath that she did not really feel, she slid from herpartner's flabby embrace and sank on a bench by the side of the bride'smother, just a second before the old man and his daughter-in-law floppedin an ignominious heap on the grass.

  Being tired and victorious is a very different thing from being tiredand beaten, so the fallen pair were soon restored. The groom picked uphis lady-love and bestowed a burning kiss on her panting mouth, (just tolet her know there was no hard feeling,) and Judy, remembering she hadin her shirtwaist in lieu of a missing button, a tiny enamelled Americanflag, went forward and pinned it on the lapel of the old man's coat, andmaking a low curtsey, said:

  "A tribute from America to France!"

  There was much applause. Judy was urged by all present to stay with themall day, but she had decided to take a train at the nearby station forVersailles and get her luncheon there, so she bade them good-by.Gathering up her sketches and sliding them into the grooves in the backof her kit, she left the gay throng and soon got a local to Versailles.

  On reaching Versailles, she did not go into the palace but wandered inthe park, stopping to feed the carp in the pond with some gingerbreadshe had bought from a red-cheeked old woman. These carp are large andfat and lazy, lying at the bottom of the pool, moving their tails almostimperceptibly and opening and shutting their eyes with such a boredexpression that Judy had to laugh. There is a rumor that they are thesame carp that Marie Antoinette used to feed; certainly they are veryold and very tired. Judy remembering this legend of the carp, began tothink of poor Marie Antoinette and decided to go over to the Trianon.The poor misunderstood queen had always been one of Judy's favorites.She walked along under the trees in a brown study musing on the fortunesof that royal lady.

  Suddenly she rubbed her eyes. Was she dreaming or was she crazy? TheTrianon was before her and on the terrace was Marie Antoinette herselfdressed as a shepherdess and leading a beautiful woolly lamb by a blueribbon. Accompanying her was a pretty maid of honor dressed as a milkmaid with a pail in her hand and a three-legged stool under her arm. TheCount d'Artois, gay, handsome, debonair, met them and held them inconversation, then the grave, sedate Monsieur, as the elder of the twobrothers of King Louis XVI was styled, approached, and with him was ourown Benjamin Franklin, dressed in sober brown.

  "Where am I? What can it mean? I am wide awake, and that is as certainlyBenjamin Franklin as that I ate Quaker Oats every morning for breakfastat Wellington. But who is this madman?"

  A furious person in shirt sleeves came tearing across the terrace. Inplain American he berated Marie Antoinette, the grave Monsieur, d'Artoisand even the dignified Franklin, and, strange to say, they took it veryamiably. True, the spoiled Marie pouted a bit, but Franklin, with a vileCockney accent, said:

  "I saiy, wot's your 'urry? The negative hain't spoiled none. Hold 'Pressthe Button' hain't in his box."

  "Moving picture actors," exclaimed Judy. "What a sell!"

  She sat and watched them for some time, amused by the vociferousmanager, who did not hesitate to swear at the royal Louis XVI, who cameinto view, forgetting to show the bunch of keys he was supposed to havefashioned with his own kingly hands.

  The day had been full of adventure and in consequence a great success inJudy's eyes. She was tired of the humdrum of the last few weeks and hersoul thirsted for excitement. "I do wish Molly had come. How she wouldhave enjoyed the thrill of seeing Marie Antoinette in her own setting ofthe Trianon; but if I had been with anyone, I am sure the dear olddancing father would never have asked me to dance and I should havemissed that delightful experience of being one of a wedding party at St.Cloud.

  "Molly is a little hurt with me, anyhow, because I have been rathernasty about Frances Andrews. Frances is improved but I have not had thecourage to tell Molly I am sorry, and knowing I am wrong makes me ruderthan ever to Frances. As soon as I get back to town I am going to 'fessup. Frances is off on a trip with her grandmother, but when she comesback she will find me as polite as a basket of chips. Suppose Molly hadturned her back on me when I got into all of those mix-ups with AdeleWindsor! I don't know whether I would have had the backbone to gothrough with the senior year or not if it had not been for Molly.Frances is certainly much more of a lady than Adele Windsor and she hasnever done a thing to hurt me. I am going to try to be good. I know dearMrs. Brown will be glad.

  "I fancy that dear lady has had some worried moments lately. Elise hasgot over her dumps and is behaving like a rational human being, and I amthe only one who has not reformed. I am going to get my lunch and goright back to Paris and tell them what a brute I am and how good I amgoing to be. Kent would hate me for worrying his mother, and he despisesmeanness in anyone."

  Judy accordingly went to a little cafe near the station and ordered agood luncheon, which took almost all of the change she had in herpocket; but her ticket back to Paris, which was only a few sous, was allthat she needed so she did not let her finances worry her. She still hada bag with a big slab of gingerbread in it. This she determined to leaveat the cafe as it was a cumbersome parcel, but the _garcon_ ran afterher with it and she thought it a simpler matter just to take it along,not knowing that the time would come when she would look upon thatgingerbread as her preserver. Inquiring at the station, she found therewould not be a train back to Paris for about half an hour and so, afterbuying her ticket, she determined to take a walk in the Versaillesgrounds rather than spend the time waiting.

  She chose a rather unfrequented path leading to the lake and walkedslowly for Judy, who was ever quick in her movements; but the day wasbeginning to drag a little. She was, as she had told Elise, a gregariousanimal, and a whole day of her own company was beginning to pall on her.She sat down on a bench. Along the path came a typical Boulevardier, avery much over-dressed dandy, with shiny boots and hat, lemon coloredgloves, waxed black mustache and beard, and all the manner of a"would-be-masher." How Judy hated his expression as he ogled her! Butshe thought utter disregard of him would discourage him, so she assumeda very superior air and looked the other way. The Frenchman was socertain of his powers of fascination that he could not believe hermanner to be anything but coy, so he sank on the bench by her side andbegan in the most insinuating way to praise her beauty and style, herhair, eyes and mouth. The girl was furious, but determined to saynothing, hoping by her scornful silence to drive off her admirer. Hepersisted, however, in his unwelcome attentions.

  "_Peut-etre madamoiselle_ does not schpick _Francais_. I can _parler_ aleetle Eenglesh, _mais pas beaucoup_." Judy rose from her seat, overcomewith indignation and a slight feeling of fear.

  "I know he can't hurt me," thought the girl, "but he can make thingsvery disagreeable and embarrassing for me."

  The place seemed singularly lonesome and desolate. The bright sun hadgone behind a cloud and a sharp breeze had sprung up. There was not asoul in sight and the station was at least a five minutes' walk distant.As she hurried off, the man picked up the bag, from the top of whichgingerbread was protruding, and followed her.

  "You have forgot your _gouter_, _cherie_. Do you like puddeen very much,my dear?"

  Judy seized the bag of gingerbread that she seemed unable to lose, and asudden remembrance of her talk with Elise came to her: "I am big enough,old enough and ugly enough to take care of myself." She thought if itwas beauty that he was admiring she would cure him fast enough. Shegrabbed the slab of soggy brown cake from the bag and crammed about sixinches of it into her mouth, the rest of it sticking out in a manner farfrom dainty. It had the desired effect. The fastidious Frenchman wascompletely disgusted. He immediately stopped his pursuit, exclaimingwith a shrug: "_Ah quelle betise!_"

  When Judy arrived at the little station a train was on the track, andwithout waiting to ask any question of the guard, since she had herticket, she jumped into a second class coach from which someone h
ad justalighted, slammed the door shut, sank back on the cushions and burst outcrying. Crying was something in which Judy was not an adept and only afew tears came, but she felt better because of them. Then she settledherself for a pleasant, if short, trip to Paris. There was no one in thecoach with her, for which she was very thankful.

  "I'd hate for anyone, even a Frenchy, to see me blubber. Oh, how Ishould have liked to hit that man a good uppercut on the jaw! I shallcrow over Molly. I did as much with a piece of gingerbread as she didwith a tennis racket when she floored the burglar who was after MildredBrown's wedding presents. This looks like a long trip to Paris. Weshould be getting there by this time. We are going mighty fast for alocal. Oh, these beastly foreign trains where they hermetically seal youand you can't ask a question until you get to a station."

  The train slowed up but did not stop. They passed a village and thenanother and another. The country was not familiar to Judy. She read"Rambouillet" on a passing station, and then the fact became clear toher that she was on the wrong train, going from Paris instead of towardsit.

  "Rambouillet is at least twenty miles from Paris. Judy Kean, you idiot,you idiot, you idiot!"

  Judy was in truth on the Chartres express with six sous in her pocket,left after she bought her ticket to Paris; and the one piece of jewelryshe might have converted into enough cash at least to telegraph herfriends, was pinned on the coat of that crazy old dancing fiend.