by Nell Speed
CHAPTER IV.
AFTERNOON TEA.
Molly had established the custom of afternoon tea in her orchard home,and while she had been greatly teased by her brothers for introducingthis English custom into Kentucky country life, they one and all turnedup on her porch for tea if they were in the neighborhood.
"It is one place where a fellow can always find some talk and a place toair his views," declared John, as he reached for another slice of breadand butter. "It isn't the food so much as the being gathered together."
"Well, you are gathering a good deal of food together in spite of yourcontempt for it," put in Paul. "That's the sixth slice! I have kept tabon you."
"Why not? I always think plain bread and butter is about the best thingthere is."
"Yes, why not?" asked Molly, calling her little cook Kizzie to prepareanother plate of the desirable article. "Aunt Clay, you had betterchange your mind and have some tea and bread and butter."
Mrs. Sarah Clay had driven over in state from her home when she heardKent had arrived. She wanted to hear the latest news, also to tenderher advice as to what he was to do now. She presented the sameuncompromising front as of yore, although her back had given waysomewhat to the weight of years. Judy Kean always said she had a hardface and a soft figure. This soft figure she poured into tight basques,evidently determined to try to make it live up to her face.
"Tea!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I never eat between meals."
"But this is a meal, in a way," said Molly hospitably bent, as was herwont, on feeding people.
"A meal! Whoever heard of tea and bread and butter comprising a meal?"and the stern aunt stalked to the end of the porch where the baby lay inher basket, kicking her pink heels in the air in an ecstasy of joy overbeing in the world.
"Molly, this baby has on too few clothes. What can you be thinking of,having the child barefooted and nothing on but this muslin slip over herarms? She is positively blue with cold."
Molly flew to her darling but found her glowing and warm. "Why, AuntClay, only feel her hands and feet! She is as warm as toast. The doctorcautioned me against wrapping her up too much. He says little babies aremuch warmer than we are."
"Well, have your own way! Of course, although I am older than yourmother, I know nothing at all."
"But, Aunt Clay----"
"Never mind!"
Poor Molly! She could never do or say anything to suit her Aunt Clay.She looked regretfully at the old lady's indignant back as she left herand joined Kent, who was sitting on a settle with his mother, holdingher hand, both of them very quiet amidst the chatter around the teatable. They made room for their relative, who immediately began hercatechism of Kent.
"Why did you not come home sooner?"
"Because I had some work to do, sketches illustrating an article onFrench country houses."
"Humph! Did you get paid for them?"
"Yes, Aunt Clay!"
"Now, what are your plans?"
"I have landed a job in New York with a firm of architects, that is, Ihad landed it, but I am not so sure now since----"
"Good! You feel that you had better stay at home and look afterChatsworth."
"Oh, no! I am sure I could not be much of a farmer."
"Could not because you would not! If I were your mother, I would insiston one of you staying at home and running the place."
"Ernest is thinking of coming back, giving up engineering and tryingintensive farming on Chatsworth."
"Ernest, indeed! And why should he have wasted all these years in someother profession if he means to farm?"
"Well, you see," said Kent very patiently because of the pressure hefelt from his mother's gentle hand, "farming takes money and therewasn't any money. Ernest always did want to farm, but it was necessaryfor him to make some money first. Now he has saved and invested and hassomething to put in the land, and he is devoutly hoping to get out morethan he puts in."
"If putting something in the land means expensive machinery, I can tellhim now that he will waste money buying it. But there is no use intelling Ernest anything--he is exactly like Sue: very quiet, does notanswer back when his elders and betters address him, but, like Sue, goeshis own way. Sue is very headstrong and simply twists my husband'snephew around her finger. I was very much disappointed in Cyrus Clay. Ithought he had more backbone."
Sue Brown, now Mrs. Cyrus Clay, had been the one member of the Brownfamily who always got on with the stern Aunt Clay; and Kent and hismother were sorry to hear the old lady express any criticism of Sue. Itseemed that Sue had done nothing more serious than to persuade Cyrus tojoin the Country Club, but it was against Mrs. Sarah Clay's wishes, andanything that opposed her was headstrong and consequently wicked.
"But to return to you----" Kent let a sigh escape him as he had hoped hehad eluded further catechism, "what are you going to do now?"
"Well, to-night I go back to New York, and day after to-morrow I take aFrench steamer for Havre."
"Havre! Are you crazy?"
"I don't know."
"What are you going to do in France with this war going on?"
"I am not quite sure."
This was too much for the irate old lady, so without making any adieux,she took her departure, scorning the polite assistance of her threenephews. Professor Green called her coachman and helped her into thegreat carriage she still held to, the kind seen now-a-days only inmuseums.
"Kent, how could you?" laughed Mrs. Brown, in spite of her attempt tolook shocked.
"I think Kent was right," declared Molly. "How could he tell Aunt Clayhe was going to France to get Judy? She would never have let up on it.I'm glad she has gone, anyhow! We were having a very nice time withouther."
"Molly!" and Mrs. Brown looked shocked. She always exacted a show ofrespect from her children to this very difficult elder sister Sarah.
"Oh, Mumsy, we have to break loose sometimes!" exclaimed Molly. "Theidea of her saying Mildred was blue with cold! Criticising poor Sue,too! Goodness, I'd hate to be the one that Aunt Clay had taken a shineto. I'd almost rather have her despise me as she does."
"Not despise you, Molly,--you don't understand your Aunt Clay."
"Well, perhaps not, but she puts up a mighty good imitation ofdespising. I think it is because I look so like Cousin Sally Bollingand she never forgave the present Marquise d'Ochte for making fun ofher long years ago. And then to crown it all, Cousin Sally got theinheritance from Greataunt Sarah Carmichael and married the Marquis, atleast she married the Marquis and then got the inheritance. It was toomuch for Aunt Clay."
Mrs. Brown looked so pained that Molly stopped her tirade. Aunt Clay wasthe one person whom Molly could not love. She had a heart as big as allout doors but it was not big enough to hold Aunt Clay.
"Here comes Sue! How glad I am! She 'phoned she would be here before sovery long. What a blessing she missed Aunt Clay! See, she is running thecar herself and isn't it a beauty? Cyrus just got it for her and Sueruns it wonderfully well already. I forgot to write you about it, Kent.But best of all! What do you think? Cyrus has had the muddy lane thatwas the cause of Sue's hesitating whether to take him or not alldrained and macadamized. The approach to Maxton is simply perfect now."
"Good for Cyrus!" said Kent, jumping up to meet his sister, who droveher big car through the gate and up the driveway as though she had beenrunning an automobile all her life.
"Only think, five Browns together again!" exclaimed Paul, as they seatedthemselves on the porch of the bungalow after duly admiring the new car.Molly had Kizzie brew a fresh pot of tea and John was persuaded to eatsome more thin slices of bread and butter.
"Yes, five of you together again," said Mrs. Brown wistfully. "Ah, me! Iwish I could get all seven of you at Chatsworth once more. Indeed, Iwish I had all of you back in the nursery again."
"But where would I come in then?" said Edwin Green whimsically.
"And little Mildred?" from Molly, hugging her infant.
"And Sue's new car, not to mention C
yrus?" teased Kent.
"You are right, children. I should be more of a philosopher.
"'The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.'"
Molly stood over Kent with a cup of steaming tea and taking her cue fromher mother's quotation from the Rubaiyat and prompted by his knownothingattitude with his Aunt Clay, she got off the stanza:
"Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair: Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where."
