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MOLLY BROWN'S SOPHOMORE DAYS
[Illustration]
MOLLY BROWN'S
SOPHOMORE DAYS
BY NELL SPEED
AUTHOR OF
"The Tucker Twins Series," "The Carter
Girls Series," etc.
[Illustration]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Printed in U. S. A.
Copyright, 1912,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
Printed in the U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE RETURN OF THE WANDERERS 5
II. OTOYO 17
III. A CLASHING OF WITS 33
IV. A TEMPEST IN A TEAPOT 47
V. AN UNWILLING EAVESDROPPER 62
VI. TWO LONG-DISTANCE CALLS 76
VII. THE GLEE CLUB CONCERT 94
VIII. A JAPANESE SPREAD 111
IX. VESPERS 126
X. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 140
XI. THE GREAT SLEET OF 19-- 158
XII. THE SKATING CARNIVAL 169
XIII. THE THAW 182
XIV. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 196
XV. A RECOVERY AND A VISIT 212
XVI. CHRISTMAS EVE PLOTS 230
XVII. A CHRISTMAS SURPRISE 245
XVIII. BREAKING THE NEWS 258
XIX. HOW O'REILLY'S BECAME QUEEN'S 269
XX. THE TURN OF THE WHEEL 283
XXI. IN THE GARDEN 295
Molly Brown's Sophomore Days
CHAPTER I.
THE RETURN OF THE WANDERERS.
"I never thought I could be so glad to be anywhere except home," thought
Molly Brown as she swung off the 'bus, and, seizing her suit case, ran
into Queen's Cottage without so much as ringing the bell.
Two juniors whom Molly had known only by sight the year before and
several freshmen had been in the Wellington omnibus; no one in whom she
could confide her enthusiasm as the 'bus turned a bend in the road and
Wellington's towers came into view.
"Molly! Molly!" cried a voice from somewhere in the upper regions of
Queen's, and down three flights of stairs rushed a wild figure, her
fluffy light brown hair standing out all over her head and her
voluminous kimono sailing behind her like the tail of a kite.
"Oh, Judy, it's good to see you again," cried Molly, and the two girls
were instantly folded in each other's arms in a long, loving embrace.
"You remind me strongly of Meg Merriles," continued Molly, holding her
friend off at arms' length and giving her a joyful little shake. "You
look as if you had been running over the moors in the wind."
"You'd think I was a bit daffy if you could see my room," replied Julia
Kean, who, those of you who have met her in an earlier story will
recall, was nicknamed "Judy" by her friends. "I'm unpacking. It looks
like the world in the era of chaos: mountains of clothes and islands of
shoes and archipelagoes of hats all jumbled into a hopeless mass. But,
never mind that now. Let's talk about each other. Come on upstairs. Your
room's ready. I looked in half an hour ago. You've got new wall paper
and a fresh coat of paint. That's because you are one of Mrs. Markham's
little pets."
"Really," cried Molly, delighted. "How charmed Nance will be. And I've
brought some white dimity curtains with ruffled edges to hang at the
windows. I made them last summer when it was ninety-eight in the shade.
Where is Nance, by the way? And where are all the Queen's girls, and
what new ones are here?"
"One at a time, Miss Brown," laughed Judy, following Molly up to the
third story and into the large room shared by Molly and her friend,
Nance Oldham.
"How sweet it's going to look," cried Molly, clasping her hands and
gazing around her with all the ardor of a returned wanderer. "But where
is Nance?"
Judy's face became very grave.
"Is it possible you haven't heard the news about Nance?" she said.
"Judy, what do you mean?" cried Molly, taking off her hat and running
her fingers through her rumpled auburn hair, a trick she had when she
was excited and overwrought. "Now, tell me at once what has happened to
Nance. How could you have kept it from me? Dear old Nance!"
Judy blew her nose violently.
"Why don't you answer me, Judy? Isn't Nance coming back? I haven't heard
from her for weeks. Oh, do tell me."
"I'm going to tell you in a minute," answered Judy. "I can't blow my
nose and talk at the same time. It's a physical impossibility. I've got
a wretched cold, you see. I am afraid it's going into influenza."
"Julia Kean, you are keeping something from me. I don't care a rap about
your nose. Isn't Nance coming back?"
Molly almost fell on her knees in the excess of her anxiety. Judy turned
her face away from those appealing blue eyes and coughed a forced
throaty cough.
"Suppose I should say she wasn't coming back, Molly? Would you mind
it?"
"Would I mind it?" repeated Molly, her eyes filling with tears.
Suddenly the closet door was flung open and out rushed Nance.
"Oh, Molly, forgive me," she cried, throwing her arms around her
roommate's neck. "Judy thought it would be a good practical joke, but I
couldn't stand the deception any longer. It was worth it, though, if
only to know you would miss me."
"Miss you?" exclaimed Molly. "I should think I would. Judy, you wretch!"
"I never did say she wasn't coming," replied Judy. "I simply said, 'Is
it possible you haven't heard the news about Nance?' It shows how your
heart rules your head, Molly. You shouldn't take on so until you get at
the real truth. Your impetuous nature needs----"
Here Judy was interrupted by the noise of a headlong rush down the hall.
Then the door was burst open and three girls blew into the room all
laughing and talking at once.
"My goodness, it sounds like a stampede of wild cattle," exclaimed
Judy. "How are you, old pals?"
A general all-round embrace followed.
It was Margaret Wakefield, last year's class president; her chum, Jessie
Lynch; and Sallie Marks, now a senior, but not in the least set up by
her exalted state.
"Where's Mabel Hinton?" someone demanded.
"She's moved over to the Quadrangle into a singleton. She wanted to be
nearer the scene of action, she said, and Queen's was too diverting for
her serious life's work," so Margaret explained.
"I'm sorry," said Molly. "I'm one of those nice comfortable home bodies
that likes the family to keep right on just the same forever, but I
suppose we can't expect everybody to be as fond of this old brown house
as we are. Sit down, everybody," she added, hospitably. "And--oh, yes,
wait a moment--I didn't open this on the train at all."
She fell on her knees and opened her suit case while her friends
exchanged knowing smiles.
"Ruling passion even strong in death," observed Judy.
"Of course it's something good to eat," laughed pretty Jessie.
"Of course," replied Molly, pitching articles of clothing out of her
satchel with all the carelessness of one who pursues a single idea at a
time. "And why not? My sister made them for me the morning I left and
packed them carefully in a tin box with oiled paper."
"Cloudbursts!" they cried ecstatically and pounced on the box without
ceremony, while Molly, who, like most good cooks, had a small appetite,
leaned back in a Morris chair and regarded them with the pleased
satisfaction of a host who has provided satisfactory refreshment for his
guests.
The summer had made few changes in the faces of her last year's friends.
Margaret was a bit taller and more massive, and her handsome face a
little heavier. Already her youthful lines were maturing and she might
easily have been mistaken for a senior.
Nance was as round and plump as a partridge and there was a new
happiness in her face, the happiness of returning to the first place she
had ever known that in any way resembled a home. Nance had lived in a
boarding house ever since she could remember; but Queen's was not like a
boarding house; at least not like the one to which she was accustomed,
where the boarders consisted of two crusty old bachelors; a widow who
was hipped about her health and always talked "symptoms"; a spinster who
had taught school for thirty years; and Nance's parents--that is, one of
them, and at intervals the other. Mrs. Oldham only returned to her
family to rest between club conventions and lecture tours.
Judy had a beautiful creamy tan on her face which went admirably with
her dreamy gray eyes and soft light brown hair. There were times when
she looked much like a boy, and she did at this moment, Molly thought,
with her hair parted on one side and a brilliant Roman scarf knotted
around her rolling Byronic collar.
Jessie, just now engaged in the pleasing occupation of smiling at her
own image in the mirror over the mantel, was as pretty as ever. As for
Sallie Marks, every familiar freckle was in its familiar place, and, as
Judy remarked later, she had changed neither her spots nor her skin. She
had merely added a pair of eye-glasses to her tip-tilted critical nose
and there was, perhaps, an extra spark of dry humor in her pale eyes.
Molly was a little thin. She always "fell-off" after a
ninety-eight-in-the-shade summer; but she was the same old Molly to her
friends, possessed with an indescribable charm and sweetness: the
"nameless charm," it had been called, but there were many who could name
it as being a certain kindly gentleness and unselfishness.
"What's the news, girls?" she demanded, giving a general all-round smile
like that of a famous orator, which seemed to be meant for everybody at
once and no one in particular.
"News is scarce; or should I say 'are'?" replied Margaret. "Epimenides
Antinous Green, 'the handsomest man ever seen,' was offered a chair in
one of the big colleges and refused."
"But why?" cried Molly, round-eyed with amazement.
"Because he has more liberty at Wellington and more time to devote to
his writings."
Molly walked over to the window to hide a smile.
"The comic opera," she thought.
"He's just published a book, you know, on the 'Elizabethan Drama,'" went
on Margaret, "which is to be used as a text book in lots of private
schools. And he's been on a walking trip through England this summer
with George Theodore----"
"How did you know all that?" interrupted Judy.
"Well, to tell you the truth, I came up to Wellington on the train with
Andy McLean and he answered all the questions I asked him," replied
Margaret, laughing. "I also answered all the questions he asked me about
a particular young lady----"
Nance pretended to be very busy at this moment with the contents of her
work bag. The other girls began laughing and she looked up, disclosing
a scarlet countenance.
"Don't you know she never could take a teasing?" cried Judy.
"Who's teasing?" answered Margaret. "No names were mentioned."
"Don't you mind, Nance, dear," said Molly, always tender-hearted when it
came to teasing. "The rest of us haven't had one 'inquiring friend,' as
Ca'line, our cook, used to call them. When I wrote letters for her to
her family in Georgia, she always finished up with 'Now, Miss Molly,
jes' end with love to all inquirin' friends.'"
The dainty little French clock on the mantel, one of Nance's new
possessions, tinkled five times in a subdued, fairy chime and the
friends scattered to their various rooms to unpack. Judy was now in
Frances Andrews' old room, next to the one occupied by Molly and Nance.
"I think I'll take a gimlet and bore a hole through the wall," she
announced as she lingered a moment after the others had gone, "so that
we can communicate without having to walk ten steps--I counted them
this morning--and open two doors."
"Who has your old room, Judy?" inquired Molly.
"You'd never guess in a thousand years, so I'll have to enlighten you,"
answered Judy. "A young Japanese lady."
"For heaven's sake!" cried Molly and Nance in one breath, while Judy,
who loved a climax, sailed from the room without vouchsafing any more
information.