BON VOYAGE.
Mrs. Brown and her daughter Molly were at last safely off on what they
called their "great adventure." They had waved their handkerchiefs until
the dock at Hoboken was nothing more than a blur to them and they felt
sure that the _Laurens_ was little more than a speck to the friends that
had turned up to see them off.
Molly's classmates at Wellington College, Katherine and Edith Williams,
Edith with the nice, new husband whom Molly was overjoyed to meet, had
appeared, bearing books and candy for the trip. Jimmy Lufton, of course,
just to show that there was no hard feeling, as he whispered to Molly,
was there, also, doing everything for their comfort; finding their
luggage; engaging the steamer chairs; seeing to it that the stewardess
understood about the baths before breakfast; and attending to many
things of the importance of which Molly and her mother were ignorant.
Richard Blount, too, had turned up ten minutes before sailing, but he
had managed to get in a word with Molly about Melissa Hathaway.
"She is a queen among women, Miss Molly, and I consider that Edwin Green
is a lucky dog to have the privilege of teaching her. To think of seeing
her day after day and hearing her read poetry with that wonderful voice!
He tells me she is the most remarkable reader he has ever known. I am
too fond of old Ed to hate him, otherwise I should find it easy. By the
way I have left something in care of the steward for you and your mother
as a cure for seasickness. You will find that there is nothing like it!"
"Oh, thank you so much! I feel sure that I shall not be sick, but I am
just as obliged as though I were going to be. Mother may be. You see we
have never been on the ocean in our lives, but we have always felt that
we would like it beyond anything, and that liking it so much would keep
us from being harmed by it," Molly had answered, a little chagrined at
what Richard Blount had had to say about Professor Green and Melissa,
but determined not to show it to that young man or to let herself think
there was anything in it.
Miss Grace Green and dear, good Mary Stewart had been on the steamer
waiting when Molly and her mother came aboard. Their devotion to Molly
was so apparent that they won Mrs. Brown's heart at once, and that
charming lady with her cordial manner and gracious bearing as usual made
Molly's friends hers.
Miss Green had had a little private talk with Molly, giving her messages
from her younger brother, Dodo, and telling her what she knew of
Professor Edwin's disappointment in having to go on with his duties for
the time being at least. Molly had not had a chance to open and read the
steamer letter he had written her, but was forced to postpone it until
the vessel sailed and she could compose herself after the flurry of
good-bys and the bustle of the departure.
There were many letters waiting in the cabin, but the harbor was so
fascinating to these two women who had done so little traveling, that
they could not tear themselves from the deck until they were out of
sight of land.
"Mother, isn't it too lovely and aren't we going to be the happiest pair
on earth? I am glad we are seeing the ocean for the first time together,
because you know exactly how I feel and I know how you feel. The idea of
our being seasick! Richard Blount sent some remedy to the steamer for
us, just in case we were seasick. It was very kind of him but absolutely
unnecessary, I am sure. I never felt better in my life and look, there
is quite a little swell."
"Seasick indeed! I have no more feeling of sickness than I have on the
Ohio River at home," said Mrs. Brown, taking deep breaths of the bracing
salt air. "I suspect it is incumbent upon us to go read our letters now,
but I must say I do not want to miss one moment on deck during our
entire voyage. I feel as though twenty years had dropped off me." And
indeed she looked it, too, with a pretty pink in her cheeks and her wavy
hair blown about her face.
Molly rather wanted to read Professor Green's letter first, but she put
it aside and opened those from Nance Oldham and several other college
mates. Then she discovered a thoroughly characteristic note from Aunt
Clay, dry and dictatorial but enclosing a check for ten dollars on
Monroe & Co., the Paris bankers. "For you and your extravagant mother to
spend on foolishness," wrote that stern lady.
"Oh, Mother! Isn't she hateful? How easy it would have been to send a
pleasant message with the check! Now all the fun of having it is gone
and I have a great mind to send it back!"
"No, my dear, don't do that. Your Aunt Clay does not mean to be as
unkind as she seems. I know she intended this check as a kind of peace
offering to me, and we must take it as she meant it and pay no attention
to her words."
"Mother, you are an angel and I have to hug you right here in the cabin,
even if that black-eyed man over there with the pile of telegrams in
front of him is looking a hole through us."
She suited the action to the word and Mrs. Brown, emerging from the bear
hug that Molly was prone to give, surprised a smile on the dark face of
their fellow traveler. He was seated across from them at the same table
behind a pile of telegrams a foot high, and was very busy opening the
messages, making notes on them as he read. He was an interesting looking
man with dark, fathomless eyes, swarthy complexion and iron gray hair,
but he bore a youthful look that made one feel he had not the right of
years to the gray hair. His expression was gloomy and not altogether
pleasant, but when he smiled he displayed a row of dazzling white teeth
and his eyes lost the sad look and held the smile long after his mouth
had closed with a determined click.
"'Duty before pleasure,' as King Richard said when he killed the old
king before a-smothering of the babies," said Molly as she finished Aunt
Clay's letter and opened Edwin Green's. What a nice letter it was to be
sure! She laughed aloud over his wanting to throw Rosetti at the girl
and blushed with pleasure at the compliment to her reading of the
blessed Damozel, for well she knew whom he had in mind. His praise of
Melissa would have merely pleased her as praise of her friends always
did, had she not already been somewhat disturbed by what Dicky Blount
had said to her of Professor Edwin Green and the beautiful mountain
girl.
"I am a silly girl and intend to put all such foolish notions out of my
head," declared Molly to herself. "Surely Professor Green has as much
right to make friends as I have, and I intend to know as many people and
like as many as I can. I am not the least bit in love with Edwin
Green,--but somehow I don't think he and Melissa are suited to one
another."
As the young girl sat reading over her letter, a feeling of sadness and
loneliness took possession of her and, looking up, she surprised a
furtive tear in her mother's eye. Mrs. Brown was reading a letter from
her married daughter Mildred, then living in Iowa where her husband
Crittenden Rutledge was at work as a bridge engineer.
The cabin had begun to fill with people who were leaving decks and
staterooms to hunt up their letters and belongings and generally prepare
themselves for a ten-day trip on the Atlantic.
"Mother, they say this is a small steamer, but it seems huge to me! Did
you ever see so many strange people? I don't believe we ever shall know
any of them. They all of them look at home and I feel so far from home.
Don't you?"
"Now, Molly, please don't get blue or I shall have to weep outright. Of
course we shall come to know most of the passengers and no doubt will
find many charming persons ready to know and like us. Suppose we hurry
up with our letters and go on deck again."
Just then a young man bounded into the cabin, made a hasty survey of the
crowd and came rapidly over to the dark gentleman seated opposite them.
"Oh, Uncle Tom, how can you stay down in this stuffy cabin? There is a
sunset on the water that is just screaming out to be looked at. As for
that work, you have ten days to attend to those tiresome telegrams and
letters."
"Nonsense, Pierce, I have no idea of waiting ten days for this important
business. You forget the wireless," answered the uncle, looking fondly
at the enthusiastic young fellow, who was so like him except for the
gray hair that it was almost ludicrous.
"Oh, goodness gracious me, where is your holiday to be, with you tied to
your Mother Country with a stringless apron? That is what that old
wireless telegraphy reminds me of," laughed the young man, showing all
his perfect teeth. "Well, I've got your chair and steamer rug all ready
for you and all you have to do is come sit in it."
"Now, Pierce, don't wait on me. Part of having a holiday is to forget
how old I am. When I get these telegrams off, I am going to show you how
skittish I can be and forget all about business. I fancy you will have
to hold me back in my race for a good time. This limerick is to be my
motto:
"Said this long-legged daddy of Troy,
'Although I'm no longer a boy,
I bet I can show
You chaps how to go.'
Which he did to his own savage joy."
Mrs. Brown and Molly could not help overhearing this conversation and at
the above limerick they laughed outright. The young man called Pierce
looked at them with a friendly glance and the uncle smiled another of
his rare smiles, which made the ladies from Kentucky feel that the ocean
was not going to be such a terribly lonesome place after all. They
gathered up their belongings and made their way on deck to view the
sunset that was "screaming to be looked at."
"It really is worth seeing, isn't it, Mother? Somehow, though, I never
do like to be made to look at a sunset. The persons who insist on your
doing it always seem to have a kind of proprietary air. Now that young
man wanted to bulldoze his uncle into coming when--when----" Molly
stopped suddenly, realizing that the two men in great-coats, with the
collars turned up to their ears, who had taken their places at the
railing next to her mother, were no other than the two in question.
"You are perfectly right, madam," said the elder, raising his hat. "This
nephew of mine is always doing it. Now I should much rather come on deck
when the sun is down and see the after-glow. The crepuscule appeals to
me more than the brilliancy of the sunset."
"I fancy my daughter had no complaint to make of the brilliancy of the
color, but of being coerced into looking at it. She likes to be the
discoverer herself and the one to make others come to look. Isn't it so,
Molly?"
"Maybe it is," said Molly blushing. "I did not really mean much of
anything and was just talking for talk's sake."
"Anyhow," spoke the nephew, "this sunset is mine and I think it is
beautiful and all of you have simply got to look at it." Turning to
Molly, "You can have to-morrow's and make us look all you want to, but
this is my discovery."
The ice was broken and Molly and her mother made their first
acquaintances on their travels. Mr. Kinsella introduced himself and his
nephew Pierce and in the course of half an hour they were all good
steamer friends. Everyone must make up his or her mind to be ready to
make friends on a steamer or to have a very stupid, lonesome crossing.
Mrs. Brown and Molly were both too sociable and friendly to be guilty of
such standoffishness and were as pleased at making friends with the two
Kinsellas as those gentlemen were to secure such pleasant companions as
these ladies were proving themselves to be.
"We are all of us to be at the captain's table," said Pierce.
"And how do you know where we are to be?" asked Molly. "I don't know
myself where we are to sit, and how can you know?"
"Oh, that is easy. While you and your mother and Uncle Tom were busy
reading your letters and before I got my sunset ready, I was finding out
things like Rikki-tikki. First I got the steward's list and located the
Kinsellas at mess; then I looked over all the names and where the people
hailed from and decided that Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky sounded kind
of cheerful. And when I knew there was a Mrs. Brown along, too, I
decided that Miss Molly Brown was young enough to have a mother along
and the mother was young enough to be along, and you were more than
likely a pretty nice couple to cultivate. The steward told me you were
to be at the captain's table, too, as you were friends of Miss Mary
Stewart. Her father owns much stock in these nice old tubs of steamers,
and the daughter had made a special request that you should be very well
looked after."
"Isn't that too like Mary? She did not say one word about it. That
accounts for our having such a lovely stateroom to ourselves, too. We
had engaged a stateroom that was supposed to hold three persons. The
company had the privilege of putting someone else in with us, and as the
steamer is quite full, of course we had expected to have a roommate. We
hated the thought of it, too, but it was so much less expensive. And
Mother and I hoped to spend most of our time on deck, anyhow. We could
not understand the number not being the same as that on our tickets, but
thought the officials knew best and if we did not belong there they
would oust us in good time."
"Well, I am jolly glad you have the best stateroom on board. Uncle tried
to get it but had to content himself with second best."
"Are you seasick, as a rule? I do hope not," asked the young man of Mrs.
Brown, who had been conversing with Mr. Kinsella while the nephew and
Molly were making friends.
"No, we don't make it a rule to be any kind of sick; but my daughter and
I are on the ocean for the first time. In fact, we are really seeing the
ocean for the first time and do not know how we are to behave. So far we
feel as well as possible, but I fancy such a smooth sea is no test."
"Only fancy, Uncle Tom, what it must seem to see the ocean for the first
time! I almost wish I had never seen it until now, just for the
sensation."
"There was a superior New York girl at Wellington College who had a
great time trying to tease me because I had never seen the ocean. She
kept it up so long that I began to feel like a 'po' nigger at a frolic',
so I retaliated by asking her if she had ever been to a hanging. I
completely took the wind out of her sails, and then confessed that I
hadn't either," said Molly with a laugh.
"Good for you, Miss Brown, give it to him. New York people are certainly
very superior in their own estimation and need a good taking down every
now and then. They are often more provincial than villagers, with no
excuse for so being," and Mr. Kinsella gave his nephew an affectionate
push.
The air was clear and crisp, with a rising wind that gave promise of a
heavy sea. The passengers had begun to fill the decks, dragging steamer
chairs into sheltered nooks and looking about for desirable places out
of the wind, where they could see the sun set and the moon rise, get out
of the way of the smokestacks, the fog horn and the whistle, and at the
same time be in a good locality to see everything that was going on.
Molly and her mother were much amused at the sight. They were both
inclined to be rather careless of their ease and it had never entered
their heads to hustle and bustle to make themselves comfortable on the
trip.
"Jimmy Lufton has had our chairs placed on deck and lashed to the
railing. He said he knew we would never look out for ourselves, and
unless he saw to it, we would go abroad standing up or sitting on the
floor! He tagged our chairs, too, as our names were on the backs only.
He said there were always some 'chair hogs' who would push the chairs
against the wall with the name out of sight and refuse to budge," said
Molly.
"Where are your chairs?" asked Pierce. "Let's go find them and afterward
we can get Uncle's and mine and have a snug foursome of a chat. Oh, Miss
Brown, how lovely your mother is! I want to paint her; but I should have
to put you in the picture, too, so that I could catch the wonderful
expression on her face. It is when she is looking at _you_ that she is
most lovely."
"Well, don't you think I could be present to inspire the desired
expression without being in the picture?" laughed Molly, delighted by
the praise of her beloved mother. "But can you paint? I have been
wondering what you are and what your uncle is, but I did not like to be
too inquisitive."
"Well, one does not have to be with me long to hear the story of my
life," said the boy. "You ask if I can paint: yes, I can paint; not as
well as I want to by a long shot, but I mean to be a great painter. That
sounds conceited, but it is not. I have talent and there is no use in
being mealy-mouthed over it. To be a great painter means work, work,
work; and I am prepared to do that with every breath I breathe. Painting
isn't work to me; it is joy and life. Besides, I mean to make it up to
Uncle for his disappointment in life, and the only way I can do it is by
succeeding."
Molly was dying to know more about the uncle and what his disappointment
was, but she was too well bred to show her desire and Pierce did not
seem inclined to go on with his family disclosures. He stood looking at
two ladies who had just come on deck, followed by a maid carrying rugs
and cushions. The ladies were a very handsome mother and daughter,
although the mother appeared too young to have such a very
sophisticated, grown-up daughter. They were beautifully dressed in long
fur coats and small toques. "Rather warm for October," thought Molly,
but the rising cold wind soon made her know her mistake.
"There are our chairs," said Molly, starting toward the railing where
the ever handy-man, Jimmy, had lashed the two steamer chairs.
At the same moment the elegant, fur-clad lady rapidly crossed the deck
and placing her hand on the back of the nearest chair, said in a cold
and haughty tone to the maid: "Here, Marie, place the rugs and cushions
in these chairs. They will do quite nicely."
"Excuse me, but these chairs are ours, mine and my mother's," said
Molly. "But we are not going to use them until after supper, I mean
dinner, so you are welcome to them until then."
"Some mistake surely," rejoined the older woman, eying Molly scornfully
through her lorgnette. "You will have to complain to the steward if you
cannot find your chairs, young woman; these are mine, engaged and paid
for." With that, she prepared to seat herself with the help of the maid,
who was blushing furiously, mortified by the flagrant untruth of her
mistress.
Molly was, by nature, easy-going and peace-loving and her inclination
was to leave the haughty dame in possession of the chairs and beat a
hasty retreat; but she remembered Jimmy Lufton's remark about "chair
hogs" and a joking promise she had made him to stand up for her mother
if not for herself, so she braced herself for battle. Despite her
girlish face and figure, Molly Brown could command as much dignity as
any member of the Four Hundred.
With a polite smile and gently modulated voice she said, very calmly and
firmly: "Madam, as I said before, these are my chairs but you are quite
welcome to them until after dinner. If you have any doubt about it, you
will find our names on the backs; but to save you the trouble of moving
to look behind you, if you will be so kind as to glance at these tags
you can verify my statement."
"Oh, I did not dream I was to call forth such a tirade," yawned the
nonplussed woman, reading the tags: "'Mrs. M. Brown, Kentucky; Miss M.
Brown, Kentucky.' If you are not going to use the chairs until after
dinner, my daughter and I will just stay in them until other
arrangements can be made. These small steamers are wretchedly managed. I
can't imagine where our chairs are. Elise," calling to her daughter, "it
seems these are not our chairs, after all."
"Well, I did not think they could be, as these chairs seem real enough
and ours are entirely imaginary," answered the daughter rudely. "Mother,
this is Mr. Kinsella, whom I have known at the Art Students' League. My
mother, Mrs. Huntington, Mr. Kinsella."
"I am so glad to meet you, Mrs. Huntington. Your daughter, Miss O'Brien,
and I have been working in the same costume class at the League. I did
not dream she was to be on this boat and when I saw her come on deck I
thought I was seeing ghosts."
Pierce had come eagerly forward to meet the mother of the interesting
girl he had known and liked at the art school; but Mrs. Huntington
looked as though she, too, were seeing ghosts. She shrank back in her
down pillows and her face became pinched and pale, and it was a moment
before the hardened woman of the world could command her voice to return
the greeting of the young man.
"Kinsella, did you say? Could you be Tom Kinsella's son? You are
strangely like him."
"Thank you, madam, for that. There is no one I want to be like so much
as my Uncle Tom. I am his nephew; my uncle has never married. Did you
know my uncle? He is on board and I know would be glad to renew his
acquaintance with you. But let me introduce Miss Brown to both of you."
The two girls shook hands, and as they looked in each other's eyes,
Molly felt in her heart an instinctive liking for the older girl. There
was something honest and straight about her face despite the rather
sullen expression of her mouth. She was beautiful, besides, and beauty
always appealed to Molly,--almost always, at least, for although Mrs.
Huntington was beautiful, too, Molly felt no leaning toward her. Mother
and daughter looked enough alike to make it not difficult to guess the
relationship at the first glance; but the more one saw of them, the
fainter grew the resemblance. The older woman was smaller, fairer and
plumper; her hair was golden while the daughter's was light brown; her
complexion pink and white, the daughter's rather sallow; her eyes baby
blue, the other's gray green. But the daughter's features were more
pronounced and her well-cut chin and mouth showed character and pride,
while the mother's looked a little petulant.
"I am very glad to meet you, Miss Brown. I believe I have heard of you.
Aren't you Julia Kean's 'Molly'?" And Elise O'Brien gave Molly's hand a
little squeeze.
"Of course I am. To think of your knowing my Judy! You must have met her
at the League. Perhaps you knew her, too, Mr. Kinsella."
"Who? Miss Kean? I should say I did. She was the life of the outdoor
sketch club we got up; and believe me, she has a soul for color. Why,
that little 'postage stamp landscape' she had in the American Artists'
Exhibition was a winner. Did you see a memory sketch she did for the
final exhibition at the League? It was a tall girl in black standing up
singing and a beautiful red-headed girl in diaphanous blue playing an
accompaniment on a guitar, with a background of holly and a great bunch
of mistletoe at one side." Pierce stopped suddenly in the midst of his
description of Judy's picture and, gazing intently at Molly, cried out,
"By the great jumping jingo, if Miss Brown isn't the red-headed girl in
diaphanous blue!"
"Yes, I saw it," exclaimed Elise, "and thought it was wonderfully
clever. Miss Kean got a splendid likeness of you, considering it was
from memory."
"Oh, Judy has sketched me until she says doing me is almost as easy as
writing her name. That must have been the Christmas party at Professor
Green's when Melissa Hathaway was singing 'The Mistletoe Bough.' I
remember Judy sat opposite us and I almost laughed out because she kept
making pictures in the air with her thumb, which is a habit of hers when
anything appeals to her as paintable. Won't it be splendid to see her
again? Are you both going to Paris? You know Judy is there now and my
mother and I are to join her."
"Glorious!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Pierce. "Of course I am going
there; but how about you, Miss O'Brien?"
"Oh, I am to be there for a while, but my art is not considered
seriously enough for me to stick at it long enough to accomplish much.
Mother thinks Paris is nothing but one big shop, and when she has bought
all the clothes we are supposed not to be able to be decent without, we
have to go on. I am going to work while she shops. Thank goodness, she
is so fussy that it takes her twice as long to get an outfit as it would
anyone else, so I shall have time to get in some work," answered the
girl bitterly.
Just then the gong was sounded for dinner. There was a general movement
toward the saloon and the growing darkness prevented Molly from seeing
the resentment on the face of Mrs. Huntington, if resentment she held,
at the daughter's rudeness toward her.
"Such a nice girl," thought Molly, "and so clever and beautiful! But
how, how can she be so horrid to her mother? There is no telling what
provocation she has, though. Her mother was certainly not honest about
the chairs; but then, your mother is your mother. Thank goodness, Aunt
Clay is not mine!"
Molly hastened to her own mother's side and they made their way to the
first meal on board.