Molly Brown's Orchard Home

by Nell Speed

  CHAPTER XXI.

  MOLLY BROWN'S ORCHARD HOME.

  "Ter think er my Molly Baby back here in Kaintucky, a wedded wife with alive husband er her own! Who'd a thought it? It seems jes' a spell senceshe were so teency she had to clim' on a soap box to reach up ter dedough tray ter pinch off a lil piece er yeas' dough ter make her playrolls wif, so she an' that there Kent could have a party in de ole appletree they called ther carstle. An' now de carstle done blowed down an'in a twinklin' of de eye, most fo' dis ole nigger could tun 'round, hereis a sho nuf house whar de carstle stood an' my lil baby chile ismistress here wif a dough tray an' bis'it board er her own, an' now,"and here Aunt Mary paused to give one of her inimitable chuckles, "shedon' have ter stretch up none ter reach de table but has to ben' overright smart in de tother d'rection."

  "Don't you think our bungalow is lovely?" asked Molly, who looked verypretty in her cap and apron as she bent over her own biscuit boardcutting out tiny biscuit, the kind that Edwin liked best, ready to bakefor breakfast.

  "Yes, chile, it is a fittin' home for the likes of you; but fer theland's sake, don' call it no sich a name as that there! It makes methink er hants. It soun's too like bugger-boo ter me. Jes' call it houseor home, but not dat scarey name what you and yo' teacher roll out sokeerless like."

  "All right, Aunt Mary, if you don't like bungalow, 'my teacher' and Iwill stop calling it that."

  Molly popped the biscuit into the oven, put the sliced bacon on thegriddle, tested her coffee to see if it had percolated sufficiently, gotthe butter and cream out of the refrigerator, cracked ice to put in thecantaloupe, and made a pitcher of ice water before it was time to turnthe bacon.

  "Sakes alive, chile, how you kin tun aroun'! That there Ca'line would abin a hour doin' what you done 'complished in a few minutes."

  Just then Professor Green came into the kitchen, hunting Molly, whom hecould not let out of his sight for very long.

  "Well, Aunt Mary, I am so glad to see you," and he shook hands with theold woman. "My wife tells me that you are to spend the day with us, alsothat your granddaughter, Kizzie, is coming to cook for us. Just look atmy wife, Aunt Mary, isn't she the most beautiful wife in all the world?"

  He proceeded to embrace Molly, dish towel, coffee pot and all. Molly putthe coffee pot down by the ice water, dropped the dish towel into thewood box and allowed herself to be kissed, laughing gayly at the olddarkey's expression of amusement.

  "Oh, yes, wife, wife, wife! That's all one er these here green husbandskin say. But I see right here ef I _is_ comp'ny done come to spen' deday, I'd bes' put on a ap'on and git ter wuck. De bac'n is ready terburn up and I 'low that there pan er baby bis'it is done to a turn. Decoffee pot done het up de ice water and de ice water done took the 'romafrom de coffee. Here I was a passin' compliments on Miss Molly 'bout herswif'ness, and she actin' jes lak Ca'line! De kitchen ain't no place ferspoons, 'less they is i'on spoons to stir up de batter wif. Go 'long an'sit down in yo' cheers. I'll bring in the victuals."

  Aunt Mary was very strict with the other servants and would havereprimanded any of them severely for venturing a remark "while de whitefolks was eatin'," but she followed Molly and Edwin to the screenedporch where the table was laid, and while they ate the very goodbreakfast which, thanks to her, had not burned up, the old womanentertained them with her keen observations.

  "I knowed you'd be pleased wif de Jonases gourd I done planted hin' dekitchen on that arbor what Mr. Kent called by some outlandish name lakperg'low. I say I planted de gourd, which ain't ter say the wholesometruf. Yer see, gourds mus' be planted by a foolish 'ooman or a lazy,no-'count man ef you want 'em to grow fas'. I sho did want that therevine to kiver de arbor befo' you and yo' teacher got here, so I gotCa'line, who is 'thout doubt the foolishest virgin I ever seed, to planton one side and that low down, lazy Buck Jasper to tend to tother, andyou kin see fer yo'self they's meetin' overhead."

  "The vine has certainly grown very rapidly," laughed the professor. "Ihave never heard before what were the requisites for a flourishinggourd."

  "Well, I ain't a-sayin' that part of its comin' on so well ain't due tothe haid work that old Mary Morton put on it. I bossed them free niggerstill they done disremembered they was 'mancipated."

  "What would you say, Aunt Mary, if Kent should bring a wife back toChatsworth?" asked Molly.

  "Well, if it is that there Judy gal, I'd say, 'Glory be!' She's sho jes'lak our own folks, if she do say her ma and pa ain't never owned theyown home, but always been renters. That don' sound zactly lak quality,but since the war, that ain't sich a sho sign as it uster be. You seeplenty er po' white trash now a-ownin' fine homes and de quality rentin'nothin' mo' than cabins."

  "Well, Judy is the gal I mean, Aunt Mary, and I fancy they will come tolive with Mother at Chatsworth."

  "Don' it beat all how Miss Milly's daughters is marryin' out and hersons a-marryin' in? I done heard Miss Milly say hunderds er times thatshe'd 'low her daughters to marry in but her sons must marry out, asdaughters-in-law is heaps mo' ticklish to git 'long wif thansons-in-law. Here her three daughters is a marryin' an' going to allkin's er outlan'ish places leavin' they ma an' they home; an' now theboys is thinkin' bout takin' unto theyselves wives, an' one an' all saythey can't sleep nowheres but at Chatsworth, an' they mus' bring theywives back home to keep comp'ny wif yo' ma! Mr. Paul's cou'tin' 'round,but he manages to git stuck on too many gals at oncet and makes it hardto settle hisself. I done noticed, howsomever, 'bout that kinderwhimsified lover, when he do settle down, he makes the bes' husband erall. Men folks is gotter have they fling, and they bes' have it 'fo'matrimony than durin' it.

  "Dr. John was right hard hit wif that Miss Hunt what was a-visiting yo'Aunt Clay 'til he seed her wif her hair all stringy an' out er curl thattime you all went on the night picnic and the creek riz so and mos'drownded the passel of you. He ain't never paid no 'tention to hersince; but they do tell me that pretty, rosy-cheeked young lady he droveout here las' week from Lou'ville is liable to be Mrs. Dr. John. What'smo,' Ca'line tells me she is a trained nurse. She certainly do look laka lady and I tuck notice she eat lak a lady, ef she does hire herselfout in service. Pears lak to me that the mo' things the niggers thinkstheyselves too good to do, the mo' things the white folks decide theyain't too good ter do fer theyselves."

  "Why, Aunt Mary, of course Miss Graves is a lady. She belongs to one ofthe very best families and is very well educated and certainly charmingand sweet. John will be lucky, indeed, if he can persuade her to havehim."

  "Well, honey chile, ef you say so, 'tis so. 'Cose in days gone by a nusswas a nuss, cep' some was good and some was bad, but now it seems someis ladies an' some ain't."

  "Here comes Mother," exclaimed Edwin, springing from his seat to go meethis mother-in-law, who was opening the neat little green gate thatconnected the Chatsworth gardens with the old orchard where he had builthis nest.

  "What lazy children, just having breakfast! I feel as though I had eatenmine ages ago, and yours looks so good, I believe I'll have somemore,--just a cup of coffee and a biscuit. Aunt Mary, you have made abetter cook of your Molly Baby than you have of Caroline. I never havesuch biscuit as these except when you come to spend the day."

  Aunt Mary had become so feeble that she was not able to do steady work.She lived in a comfortable cabin at the foot of the hill, makingfrequent excursions to the "great house" to see that "the niggers was'memberin' they places and that that there Ca'line wan't sleepin' out erseason."

  "Well, Miss Milly, it's jes' this way: some folks is good slow cooks an'some is good quick cooks. Now Ca'line shines when slow patience is theneedcessity. She is great on a biled dinner, where the 'gredients haveto jes' simper along. You have her make a Brunswick stew an' you'llthink she is the bes' cook in the county. Her yeas' bread is good 'causethat takes time and Ca'line is twins to whatsoever takes time; but efyou have a steak to brile or quick bis'it to cook, you jes sen' fer thisole woman, an' ef she can't crawl up the hill she kin ketch holt erPresident
's tail an' he kin pull her up."

  Aunt Mary then busied herself clearing off the table, as her way ofspending the day was to help her hostess in many ways.

  What a peaceful picture the orchard home presents on this late summermorning! The little brown bungalow looks as though it had always beenthere. The trees are laden with apples. The fall cheeses are beginningto ripen, and the wine saps are so heavy that Edwin has proudly proppedup the bending boughs. The quickly growing vines have done their bestfor the newly-wedded pair, and the slower ivy has begun to send outshoots that need daily training with matting tacks until they accustomthemselves to sticking to the stone foundations. Molly's porch boxes arefilled with nasturtiums and petunias, and on each side of the steps arebeds of scarlet sage.

  Her sister Sue drove over to the orchard as soon as the news came ofMolly's approaching wedding, and superintended the planting of manyflowers to beautify the little home; and even stern old Aunt Clay unbentto the extent of lending her gardener to do the work. She had alsodonated a clump of Adam's and Eve's needles and threads that proved verydecorative, but quite as unapproachable as Aunt Clay herself.

  "It is a splendid apple year," remarked Mrs. Brown, her eyes wanderingover the bountifully laden trees. "Do you know, Edwin, I believe youwill realize enough off your wine saps and pippins to pay for all yourfurniture!"

  "It is all paid for, thank goodness!" laughed the young man. "But theapple money is to be put in the bank in Molly's account."

  "You remember when I went to college, Mother, you said I must win thethree golden apples. Don't you think apple money in the bank is a goldenapple?"

  "Yes, my child, perhaps it is; but happiness is a bigger and more goldenapple than money in the bank, and I believe you have gained happiness."

  "Indeed I have," said Molly blushing. "And now I am going to make a piefor my own husband; out of my own apples; off my own tree; in my ownkitchen; with my own hands; and before I go, I am going to hug the oldman who bought the orchard so I could go on with my college education."

  This time Edwin did not "bow his head and wait 'til the storm passedover him" as he had, according to Molly, in years gone by; but he drewher down on the arm of his chair, and the making of the famous pie hadto be postponed.

  The pie was finally made, though, and an extra one to send over toMother. Aunt Mary declared it was the "bestest I ever set gum in. Iuster have a sweet tooth, but now I ain't got nothin' but a sweet gum;but my Molly Baby kin make sich good crus' th' ain't no need to chawnone."

  The old woman had been rather scornful of the method of making pastrythat Molly had learned from the domestic science teacher at Wellington,but when the pie turned out such a success she was converted.

  "Yo' teacher is sho' done drawd a prize cook. The two things what menfolks think the mos' of is the gal's outsides an' they own insides. Thegal's outsides is goin' to change an' fade; but ef she's got sense 'nufter keep on a caterin' ter his insides, the man ain't a gwine ter noticethe change. Ain't that the truf?" she asked Edwin as he came into thekitchen hunting his Molly.

  "You know best, Aunt Mary. Certainly this pie would hide a multitude ofwrinkles and even gray hair. But now, Aunt Mary, can't you persuade mywife to leave the kitchen long enough to come take a little walk withme?"

  "Go long with him, chile. I reckon I can keep the bungleboo from flyin'off while you an' yo' teacher takes a little ex'cise."

  So Molly took off her cap and apron and, donning a shade hat, steppedjoyfully out in the sunshine with her husband. They followed the littlebrook at the foot of the orchard, and climbing the fence, foundthemselves once more in the beechwoods. Both of them remembered the walkthey had taken there together more than two years before, and with oneaccord they directed their footsteps to the great tree, the father ofthe forest, where they had sat on that memorable walk.

  "'Of all the beautiful pictures That hang on Memory's wall, Is one of a dim, old forest That seemeth the best of all.'

  "Do you remember, Dearest, how you quoted that poem to me when we walkedhere before?" asked Edwin, drawing Molly to him.

  "Yes, I remember quite well," said Molly. "I also remember what yousaid, but I am afraid it will make you conceited if I tell you. It is along time to remember something that is not poetry."

  "Please tell me. If I ever said anything that was worth remembering thatlong, you should encourage me by telling it to me."

  "You said: 'A beautiful picture comes to my inward eye, and that is anold Molly with white hair sitting where you are now, still in theromantic era, still in the beechwoods; and God willing, I'll be besideyou.' I have thought of those words very often, and when I wasn'tcertain that you really cared for me, I would say to myself that youmust have cared then." And Molly blushed.

  "Cared for you! I can't see how I ever kept from telling you that day.It is best as it is. You were too young, but sometimes even now when Iknow you are mine, I tremble to think that I might have lost you bywaiting."

  "There was never any real danger of that. If you had not cared, I wasdetermined to be an old maid." And Molly gave a sigh of happiness as shenestled close to her "teacher."

  The quiet and peace of the "Orchard Home" seemed too perfect to bedisturbed even by the uneasy mutterings of distant war clouds. But astime passed and the chill forebodings and grim shadows of war reachedthe most secluded and sacred spots in the world, so they came, too, aswe shall see, into the home and into the life of "Molly Brown ofKentucky."

  THE END

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