CHAPTER XVI.
IRISHMAN'S CURTAINS.
Callers came in through the afternoon to welcome back to Wellington thepopular wife of the popular professor and to glimpse the new baby. KindMrs. McLean, the wife of the doctor, a little older than when last wesaw her but showing it only in her whitening hair and not at all in herupright carriage and British complexion, stopped in "just for a moment"to be picked up later by the doctor on his way to a country patient.Miss Walker herself, the busy president of Wellington, ran in from themeeting of the faculty to greet her one time pupil and to give one kissto the college baby. Several of the seniors, who were freshmen whenMolly was still at college as post graduate and who had the delight ofcalling her Molly while most of the others had to say Mrs. Green, camein fresh from a game of basketball, glowing with health and enthusiasm.
While these friends were all gathered about Molly and the baby, AliceFern, Edwin Green's cousin, driving in to Wellington in a very stylishnew electric car, stopped to make a fashionable call on her law kin. Shehad never forgiven Molly for stealing (as she expressed it) Edwin'saffections. She was still Miss Fern, and although she was possessed ofbeauty and intelligence, it was likely that she would remain Miss Fern.Molly was never very much at her ease with Alice. She was particularlysensitive to any feeling of dislike entertained toward her, and Edwin'scousin always made her feel that she disapproved of her in some way.
The living room in the broad old red brick house on the campus, occupiedby the professor of English, was a pleasant room, breathing of thetastes and pursuits of the owners. Low bookshelves were in every nookand cranny, filled with books, the shelves actually sagging with them.Botticelli's Primavera, a present from Mary Stewart, adorned one wall;Mathew Jouette's portrait of Molly's great grandmother, a weddingpresent from Aunt Clay, another. This was the portrait that looked somuch like Molly and also like the Marquise d'Ochte, between whom andAunt Sarah Clay there was no love lost; indeed, it was this likenessthat had induced Aunt Clay to part with such a valuable work of art. Theother pictures were some dashing, clever sketches by Judy Kean, andPierce Kinsella's very lovely portrait of Mrs. Brown, that had wonhonorable mention at the Salon and then had been sent by the youngartist to adorn Molly's home. On the whole, it was a very satisfactoryand tastefully furnished room and Molly and Edwin always declared theycould talk better and think better in that room than in any they hadever seen.
On that first day home, Molly was a little conscious of the fact thatthe room needed a thorough cleaning, not the scrubbing that Katy was sodesirous of administering, but just a good thorough cleaning. However,she was so glad to see her friends again and so proud of showing herwonderful baby to them that the cleaning seemed of small importance.
"I'll dust all the books to-morrow," she said to herself, "and have Katywipe down the walls, polish the glass on the pictures, and above all,wash the windows."
She well knew that Miss Walker and dear Mrs. McLean were not noticingsuch things, or, if they did, they would make all excuses. As for thecollege girls--dirt was not what they came to see. They came to see thelovely Molly and her adorable baby. If the walls were festooned withcobwebs, why that was the way walls should be in the home of a learnedprofessor of English, who had written several books, besides thelibretto to a successful opera, and who was married to a beautifulTitian-haired girl who was also a genius in her way, having beenaccepted in magazines when she was not even out of college. What didthey care for dust on the books and smeary window panes? Molly was sopopular with the college girls that in their eyes she was perfectionitself.
Alice Fern's entrance broke up the cheerful group gathered around Mollyand the rosy Mildred. Miss Walker suddenly remembered that she had animportant engagement and hurried off, and Mrs. McLean, who made noendeavor to hide her impatience at Miss Fern's exceeding smugness, wentoutside to wait for the doctor. The girls stayed, however, hoping to sitout the unwelcome interrupter.
These girls were favorites of Molly's. The harum scarum Billie McKymfrom New York reminded her in a way of her own Judy, although no oneelse could see it. Josephine Crittenden, Tom boy of college and leaderin all sports, hailed from Kentucky, and being a distant relative ofCrittenden Rutledge, Mildred Brown's husband, was of course takenimmediately under the wing of the loyal Molly. She had what she called acrush on Molly, and not a little did she amuse that young matron, aswell as annoy her, by her gifts of flowers and candy.
The third girl was from the West. Thelma Olsen was her name, andalthough her family had been in America for three generations, Thelmahad inherited the characteristics of a Viking maiden along with thename. She was very tall, with an excellent figure and the strength ofa man. Her hair was as yellow as gold and her eyes as blue as cornflowers. She moved with dignity, holding her head up like a queen. Herexpression was calm and kindly. She had, in very truth, worked her waythrough college, which of course appealed to Molly, remembering well herown boot blacking days and her many schemes for making a few pennies.But what most touched our Molly was the fact that Thelma had a writingbee in her bonnet. The girl had an instinct for literature and a longingfor expression that must come out. Professor Green thought very highlyof her gift for prose and did much to encourage her.
These three girls formed a strange trio, but they were inseparable,having roomed together since their freshman year. Billie was very richin her own name, since she was an orphan with nothing closer than aguardian and an aunt-in-law. Money meant no more to her than black-eyedpeas. She was intensely affectionate and where she loved, she loved sofiercely that it positively hurt, she used to say. She was witty andclever but not much of a student, as is often the case where learningcomes too easily. She was so generous it was embarrassing to herfriends. Her talent lay in clothes. She knew more about clothes thanPaquin and Doucet and all the others. It positively hurt her when herfriends did not wear becoming clothes, just as it hurt her when sheloved them so hard. The object of her life was to clothe her dear friendThelma in dark blue velvet. Thelma was too proud to be clothed inanything that she had not paid for herself, and the consequence was thatcoarse blue serge was as near as she came to poor Billie's dream.
Alice Fern seated herself on the front of a chair with very much ofa lady-come-to-see expression and then formally entered into aconversation, going through the usual questions about when Molly hadarrived and how old the baby was, polite inquiries regarding therelatives in Kentucky, etc.
Molly was eager to get into the kitchen just for a moment to start Katyon the right track, well knowing that nothing would be doing until shedid, but Alice Fern's arrival made that impossible. She would not in theleast have minded excusing herself for a moment to the girls, but ifEdwin Green had to wait until midnight for his dinner, she could not beguilty of such a breach of etiquette with the cousin-in-law, whosedisapproval she felt was ever on the alert for a _raison d'etre_. A legof lamb, and well grown lamb at that, must have plenty of time and theoven must be hot (something Katy knew nothing about), but the wife ofProfessor Green must not let his relatives know that she was such a poormanager as to have to leave the parlor to attend to cooking at a time inthe afternoon when callers were supposed to be doing their calling.
Alice Fern was really a very pretty young woman, and since she hadnothing to do but attend to her person, she was always excellently wellgroomed. No blemish was allowed on her faultless complexion from sun orwind. An hour a day was religiously given up to massage and manicure.Her hair was always coiffed in the latest mode, and not one lock wasever known to be out of place. Her costume was ever of the richest andmost stylish.
On that afternoon, as she rode up in her closed electric car, dressed ina fawn-colored suit with spotless white gloves and spats, she reallylooked like a beautiful wax figure in a showcase. Beside her, poor Mollylooked like a rumpled Madonna. She had on a very becoming blue linenhouse dress that she had donned as not only suitable for possiblecallers but also not too pure or good in which to cook her husband'sfood. The baby had delighted the
admiring audience, before the arrivalof Miss Fern, by clutching a handful of her mother's pretty hair andhaving to have her little pink fingers opened one by one to disengagethem. No doubt it was a highly intelligent and charming performance, butit had played sad havoc with Molly's hair.
"We are so glad you are back, Molly, for more reasons than one,"exclaimed Jo Crittenden, hoping to loosen the tension a little, whenAlice had completed her perfunctory catechism. "When are you going tobegin the Would-be Authors' Club?"
"Oh, do begin soon!" begged Billie. "Thelma has turned out somescrumptious bits during vacation, and even I have busted loose onpaper."
"Yes, I have written a lot this summer," said Thelma, as Molly smiled onher. "Have you done anything, or has the baby kept you too busy?"
"Oh, I had plenty of time while I was in Kentucky. You see, out there Ihave a very good servant and then my mother helps me with Mildred. Ihave finished a short story and sent it off. Of course, I am expectingit back by every mail."
"I should think your household cares would prevent your giving much timeto scribbling," sniffed Alice, if one could call the utterances of suchan elegant dame sniffing.
"Scribbling! Why, Mrs. Green has written real things and been in realmagazines," stormed Billie.
"Ah, indeed!"
"Yes, and if we had not limited the Would-be Authors to twenty, we wouldhave the whole of Wellington clamoring to join," declared Jo, whoconsidered it was high time for a perfect gentleman to step in and letMiss Alice Fern know how Wellington felt toward Mrs. Edwin Green.
Miss Fern said nothing but stared at the corner of the room that Edwinand Molly called: "The Poet's Corner." It was where all the poetry,ancient, medieval and modern, found shelf room. Over it hungShakespeare's epitaph, a framed rubbing from the tomb, the same thatEdwin had always kept over his desk in his bachelor days to scare hishousekeeper, Mrs. Brady, into sparing his precious papers.
"Good frend for Isus sake forbeare To digg ye dust encloased heare Bleste be ye man yt spares thes stones And curst be he yt moves my bones."
She kept her eyes so glued to the spot over the book shelves thatfinally all turned involuntarily to see what she was gazing on sointently. There it hung! There was no denying it or overlooking it: agreat black cobweb that must have been there for several generations ofspiders. No doubt it had taken all summer to weave such a mighty web andcatch and hold so much grime.
Molly blushed furiously. For a moment, she almost hated Katy and shewholly hated Alice Fern. That elegant damsel had a superciliousexpression on her aristocratic countenance that said as plainly asthough she had given utterance to her thoughts:
"Author's Club, indeed! She had much better clean her house."
Molly was suddenly conscious that every corner was festooned withsimilar webs. The late afternoon sun was slanting in the windows and itssearching rays had found and were showing up every grain of dust. Thepanes of glass were, to say the least, grimy.
"Oh!" she faltered, "I didn't know it was so--so--dusty in here. Katy,the new maid, was supposed to have cleaned it before I came."
"What do you care for a few Irishman's curtains?" said thehero-worshipping Billie. "No one noticed them until--ahem--until thesun came in the window." She _said_ sun came in the window but sheplainly _meant_ Fern came in the door.
"I haven't had time to do much housekeeping since I got back," continuedMolly, lamely. "The new maid, Katy, that Edwin got from New York, ismost inefficient but so good-natured that I am hoping to train her. Thetruth of the matter is that she and I spent the whole morning doingthings for Mildred and we let the house go. I am going to have a bigcleaning to-morrow."
Molly felt like weeping with mortification and she began to hate herselffor making explanations and excuses to Alice Fern. Even if she keptProfessor Green's house festooned in cobwebs from attic to cellar andhad dust over everything thick enough to write your name, what businesswas it of this perfect person? She suddenly realized, too, that thatperfect person had never uttered a word although she had looked volumes.
Miss Fern arose from her prim seat and made a rather hasty retreat. Therelieved Molly excused herself to the girls and rushed to the kitchen tostart Katy on the dinner that should have been on half an hour before.What was her chagrin to find the fire only just kindled, as Katy had letit go out so that she might polish the stove. The Irish girl was on herknees "scroobing," happy in a sea of soap suds.
Molly almost had hysterics. How could she ever get things done? Edwinwould be home any moment now and she could not stand having a miserableunderdone dinner for him, nor could she stand having his dinner hourslate. She realized that there was no use in reprimanding Katy,--the girlwas simply ignorant. She asked her gently to postpone her "scroobing"until later and to wash her hands and prepare the vegetables. Then shepiled kindling wood in the range until the chimney roared so that Katysaid it sounded like a banshee. The oven must be hot for the roast.
"I tell you what to do, Katy: make some tea immediately and slice somebread quite thin, open this box of peanut cookies, and we will have sucha grand tea that the master won't be hungry until the roast is done."
"And phwat a schmart trick!" laughed the girl.
When Miss Fern made her adieux, Molly had flown so quickly to thekitchen that she had not seen her husband crossing the campus. AliceFern had seen him, however, and her greeting of him was so warm andfriendly, her smile so charming and her manner so cordial that shehardly seemed the same person who had just left poor Molly stutteringand stammering apologies over her Irishman's curtains.
"Look at the pill!" exclaimed Jo. "She is about to eat up EpimenidesAntinous Green." That was the name Professor Green was known by atWellington.
"Did you ever see any one cast such a damper over a crowd without sayinga single word? I thought Molly was going to cry," declared Billie.
"I think our friend is looking very tired," said Thelma. "I wish wecould do something for her. She says this new maid is almost worse thannone at all."
"I've got a scheme!" squealed Billie. "I know of a way to help. Gather'round me, girls!" And then such another whispering as went on in thehouse--while Molly behaved like triplets in the kitchen, being in atleast three places at one time in her determination to get dinner on thestove. Mildred lay on the divan, happy with her newly found toes, andEdwin helped Alice Fern into her glass show case.
"I appreciate your coming to see my wife so soon, Alice. I should solike to have you and Molly be close friends."
"Thank you, Edwin, I am sure nothing would please me more. You mustbring Molly out to see us." Could this be the same person who had madethe living room look so dusty and ill kempt only a few minutes before,this gracious, charming, sweet, friendly creature, who doted on babies?She had paid no attention to Mildred except to give her a tentative pokewith her daintily gloved finger, but to hear her conversation withEdwin, one would have gathered that she was a supreme lover of children.
The girls would not stay to tea, although Molly pressed them, but fullof some scheme, they hurried off.
Dinner was not so very late, after all, and the tea and bread and peanutcookies saw to it that the professor was not too hungry before the legof lamb had reached the proper stage of serving. Molly was too much of aculinary artist not to feel elated when things turned out right, whichthey usually did if she could get her finger in the pie. The day hadbeen a very trying one for her. The sleepless night had left her littlestrength to grapple with it and the slow stupidity of Katy was veryirritating. It was over at last, however, and dear little Mildred haddecided to let her pigs rest and had gone quietly to sleep at theproper time that a well-trained infant should. Edwin was smoking hisafter-dinner pipe and everything was very peaceful and pleasant. Mollywas trying to keep her eyes open, ashamed to confess that she was sosleepy she could hardly see.
She lay back in the easy chair while Edwin read aloud from his scrapbook of fugitive verse. This scrap book Professor Green had started whenhe was in college,
putting in only the rare, fine things he found inmagazine reading. Molly had helped him in his collecting and now thevolume was assuming vast proportions.
Suddenly Molly's upturned eyes rested on the terrible cobweb that hadbeen her Waterloo of the afternoon. How black and threatening it looked!She hoped Edwin would not see it. And the books! Actually you had toopen one and beat it and blow it before you dared begin to read. Allthis must be cleaned to-morrow and oh, how tired she was!
"Did not Alice look lovely this afternoon?" said Edwin, stopping hisreading for a moment. "I hope you and she are going to be greatfriends. I think it was very nice for her to come so soon to call onyou. She spoke so sweetly of the baby, too."
Molly said nothing but gazed at the cobweb. She said nothing but she didsome thinking:
"Molly Brown, what right have you, just because you are tired and AliceFern came to call on you, looking very pretty and very beautifullydressed, and found you all frumpy and your living room looking likea pig sty, what right have you, I say, to sulk? Now you answer yourhusband and tell him Alice was pretty and don't tell him anything else."Accordingly, after giving herself the mental chastisement, Molly emitteda faint:
"Yes, very pretty!" But it was so faint and so far away that Edwinlooked at her in alarm, and then it was that she could stand nothingmore and broke down and shed a few tears.
"Why, Molly, my dearest girl, what is the matter?"
"Nothing, but I am tired and everything is so dirty. Look at thecobwebs! Look at the dust on the books! Look at me! I am an old frowsy,untidy frump."
"You! Why, honey, you are always lovely. As for dust--don't bother aboutthat. Let me read you this wonderful little poem by Gertrude Hall. Iclipped it years ago."
Professor Green saw that Molly was tired and unstrung and he well knewthat nothing soothed her more than poetry. Of course, man-like, he hadno idea that what he had said about Alice Fern's looking so sweet hadbeen too much for her, as she had contrasted herself all the afternoonwith her husband's immaculate cousin. Molly wiped away the foolish tearsas Edwin read the poem.
"THE DUST.
By Gertrude Hall.
It settles softly on your things, Impalpable, fine, light, dull, gray; The dingy dust-clout Betty brings, And, singing, brushes it away:
And it's a queen's robe, once so proud, And it's the moths fed in its fold, It's leaves, and roses, and the shroud, Wherein an ancient Saint was rolled.
And it is beauty's golden hair, And it is genius' wreath of bay, And it is lips once red and fair That kissed in some forgotten May."
"It is lovely, exquisite!" breathed Molly. "I don't feel nearly so badabout it as I did."
But she did wish that Alice Fern had not seen that black, black cobweb.