THE DEEP SEA.
Such a pleasant bustle, as the passengers came streaming into the cabin!
Everyone seemed to have made or met some friend, with the exception of a
few shy-looking, lonesome persons, and Molly devoutly hoped that these
would find some congenial souls before very long and not be so forlorn.
She and her mother had made such a fine beginning in the way of pleasant
acquaintances that she wished the same good luck to all on board.
Their seats were next to the Captain, with Mr. Kinsella and Pierce
opposite. The Captain was just what a captain ought to be: big and
hearty, blond and bearded, with a booming laugh. "Like a Viking of old,"
whispered Molly to her mother.
"Good sailor, madam?" asked the Captain of Mrs. Brown.
"A Mississippi steamboat is the only test I have given myself so far,
but my daughter and I are hoping we will prove good sailors," answered
his neighbor. "We are evidently expected to be sick by our friends, as
several of them have sent us remedies. Champagne from one, crystallized
ginger from another and a box of big black pills from a third that look
for all the world like shoe buttons."
"Well, don't trust to any of them. If you are sick, get on deck all you
can and don't waste your champagne on seasickness, but get ginger ale,
which is much cheaper and quite as effective," boomed the Captain with a
laugh that made the glasses rattle.
Molly wished they would stop talking about seasickness! The food looked
good. A plate of cream celery soup had just been placed in front of her.
It seemed all that celery soup should be, but a qualm had suddenly
arisen in her soul, (at least she called it her soul,) and she decided
to let the soup go and wait for the next course.
"Uncle Tom, I have met an old friend of yours on board; also an
acquaintance of my own from the Art Students' League," said Pierce as
soon as the business of eating was well under way.
"Is that so? I'll bet on you for nosing around to find out things! Who
is the gentleman?" inquired Mr. Kinsella.
"Gentleman much! It's a lady, and a very beautiful lady at that, who
complimented you greatly by saying you looked like me," laughed the boy.
"Her name is Mrs. Huntington."
"Huntington? I know no one of that name that I can remember. She must be
some casual acquaintance who has slipped from my memory."
"Well, maybe,--anyhow, she called you Tom. Her daughter, Miss Elise
O'Brien, is my friend."
Mr. Kinsella's face flushed and his somber eyes lit up with what Molly
thought an angry light.
"So," he muttered, "she has married again. Yes, yes, my boy, I--I did
know a Miss Lizzie Peck in my youth who married an old friend of mine,
George O'Brien. I have not seen or heard of them for years and did not
know George was dead. I shall take great pleasure in meeting his little
girl."
"Little! She is as tall as Miss Brown, who is certainly not stumpy, and
is some years older, if I am any judge of the fair sex."
"Of course you are a judge of the fair sex, a most competent one, I
should say. What boy of eighteen is not?" teased his uncle. "Where are
your new acquaintances seated?"
"They are at the other end of the next table with their backs to us. You
will have to rubber a little to get a good view of them."
Mr. Kinsella accordingly "rubbered," as his slangy nephew put it, and
satisfied himself of the identity of Mrs. Huntington. Molly was greatly
interested in the occurrence. Mr. Kinsella was different from anyone she
had ever seen before and Pierce's hint of a disappointed life had fired
her imagination, ever ready for a romance. She had a feeling that the
proud, beautiful, inconsiderate woman whose acquaintance she had
recently made was in some way connected with Mr. Kinsella's
disappointment.
Soup was removed and the next course of baked bluefish brought on.
Molly's senses reeled and a drowsy numbness stole over her. "What a
strange feeling! What on earth is the matter with me? I was so hungry
when I came down here and now I can't touch a thing," she said to
herself.
Mr. Kinsella was watching her and finally spoke:
"My dear Miss Brown, let me take you on deck. You will feel much better
in the air."
"Why, my darling daughter, are you sick?" inquired the anxious mother,
who was eating her dinner with the greatest enjoyment.
"I believe I'll go to bed," gasped poor Molly. "But don't you come,
Mother. I'll be better in a minute."
A grim smile went down the Captain's table as Molly beat a hasty and
ignominious retreat. Mrs. Huntington was heard to remark to her daughter
as a white and hollow-eyed Molly flew past their chairs on the way to
her stateroom: "There goes that red-headed girl from Kentucky, who was
so rude to me on deck. I fancy we can occupy her chairs for a while
longer."
"Oh, Mamma, why do we not have chairs of our own? It is so embarrassing
to sponge on other people all the time, and the expense of chairs is not
very great," implored Elise.
"Nonsense, Elise; I have crossed the ocean innumerable times and never
get chairs. There are always enough seasick people who have to stay in
their bunks, and since I abhor waste, I use their chairs. As you say,
the expense is not very great, but if I do not save in small ways I
cannot make ends meet and keep up appearances and that is most
important, until you see fit to catch a husband."
All this was in an aside to her daughter, who seemed accustomed to such
remarks and coolly helped herself to stuffed mangoes without deigning
any reply. But after brooding a few seconds she spoke:
"Do you think that the chair episode on deck before dinner was 'keeping
up appearances' very well?"
"And so you have your eye on young Mr. Kinsella, have you?"
"Not at all, Mamma, and you know I haven't. In the first place, Pierce
Kinsella is years younger than I am, and while he is tremendously clever
with his brush, he is not the intellectual man I must have or do
without."
"Never mind your age. If you do not mind being frank on the subject, you
must have some consideration for me, who am your unwilling mother. No
one will ever believe I was a mere school girl when I married George
O'Brien. If I should not keep up appearances for young Kinsella, who was
it, please? Surely not that Miss Smith!"
"Miss Brown, Mamma, Molly Brown. She is a lovely girl and a perfect
lady; and what will have more weight with you, she is a friend of the
Stewarts. Pierce Kinsella told me it was at Mr. Stewart's request that
she and her mother were put next to the Captain and they have the best
stateroom the ship affords."
"Ah, dead-heads, I surmise."
"Not at all. They had their tickets and stateroom engaged and did not
know of the honor done them until Pierce Kinsella told them himself. I
fancy we are the only dead-heads on board."
"Elise, I will not have you be so cynical. Mr. Stewart is a connection
of mine and I am entitled to some consideration from him," snapped the
mother.
"Yes, I know, a very close connection: Mr. Huntington's first wife's
cousin-in-law. For that reason, you must have transportation free on a
line of steamers Mr. Stewart is interested in; but you had to send me to
ask for the favor, and I'll tell you now what I did not tell you before
for fear of hurting your feelings, that Mr. Stewart said he was glad to
do it for my sake."
The last was a poser for the angry woman, and mother and daughter ceased
their wrangling and devoted themselves to the very good dinner.
Poor Molly got to bed as best she could and stayed there twenty-four
hours. She was sure her seasickness was the worst that had ever been
known, but we all feel that. On the second day she was persuaded to go
on deck by her solicitous mother,--who, by the way, was not
uncomfortable one minute,--and as she dropped limply into her steamer
chair, carefully arranged for her by the Kinsellas, she for the first
time had a desire to live. The ocean was a wonderful color, all pearly
gray with little flecks of pink on top of every wave. The sun was
setting in a mist. The wind had died down and there was a delicious
dampness in the air that smelt of salt.
"Oh, how glad I am to get up here! All of you are so good to me. It
seems a year since I went to my stateroom and I believe it is only a day
and a night. Has anything happened since I disappeared?"
"Nothing," answered Pierce. "The sun and the ship have moved but the
rest of us have just stood still waiting for you to come back. By the
way, this is your sunset, you remember. You forgot to advertise it, so
you have not a very large audience."
"Well, if Miss Brown can get up that good a show without even trying,
what couldn't she accomplish if she put her mind on it? I believe I like
yours better than Pierce's," said Mr. Kinsella. "His was so flamboyant,
while yours has a certain reserve and distinction."
The conversation went gayly on between uncle and nephew while Mrs. Brown
hovered over her daughter, tucking in the rug and shifting the pillows
for more perfect comfort. Molly smiled a little wanly at first but soon
the good air and gay talk got in their perfect work, and before she knew
it she was laughing outright at some of Pierce's sallies. The color
began to come back into her cheeks. A desire for life grew stronger and
stronger. Mr. Kinsella noticed the change in the girl, and while Mrs.
Brown and Pierce were engaged in an animated discussion on Woman's
Suffrage, Pierce taking the Anti side "just for practice," he slipped
away and soon returned with a tray of dainty food.
"Please eat a little something now, Miss Brown. It will put new life in
you and I feel sure you are on the mend and can trust yourself to take
some nourishment. Chicken aspic and dry toast can't hurt you, and I feel
sure it will do you good."
"Why, Mr. Kinsella, you are too good to me! How did you know I was
hungry? I was ashamed to say so, but I felt that a little food was all
that was needed to make me perfectly well." And Molly fell to with an
avidity that surprised her mother, who had not been able to persuade her
to take a mouthful all day.
"I have seen seasick persons before now," laughed Mr. Kinsella, "and
know by experience that there is a crucial moment when food must be
administered, and then the patient gets well immediately. I noticed you
were laughing, and no one with _mal-de-mer_ can laugh! And then your
color came back, and that is a signal for food, too. I am so glad you
like what I brought you."
"Mr. Kinsella, I cannot tell you how grateful I am," said Mrs. Brown. "I
don't wish you to be seasick, but I do wish Molly and I could repay your
kindness in some way."
"My dear lady, I am already in your debt for permitting my scape-grace
nephew and me to know you and your daughter. I have had my nose at the
grindstone of business for so many years that I feared it had grown out
of my power to make new friends; but I begin to see that I have not lost
the knack. Perhaps my somber presence is tolerated because of my gay,
jolly boy," and Mr. Kinsella gazed rather wistfully after Pierce, who
had crossed the deck to meet Elise O'Brien, just emerging from the
cabin.
"Oh, Mr. Kinsella, you must not think that," eagerly implored Molly. "I
always like serious men better than boys, and besides you are not somber
but full of gaiety and jokes. You are not fair to yourself if you think
people like you only on account of Pierce. He is a delightful boy,
but----"
"But what?"
"Don't press her too far, Mr. Kinsella," laughed Mrs. Brown. "She has
already confessed to a penchant to seriousness and finds 'beauty in
extreme old age'," and pinching Molly's blushing cheek, she went over to
join a group of recently made acquaintances who were looking at a
distant sail through an overworked spyglass belonging to one of the
tourists.
"What a tease Mother is! But she looks so like my brother Kent when she
teases me that I don't mind. Kent is always teasing and the only reason
I can stand it is that it makes him look like Mother! You see, Kent is
my special beloved brother and you know what my mother is."
"Yes, I know," answered Mr. Kinsella, who had sunk into the chair
vacated by Mrs. Brown. "Your mother is a rare woman: beautiful and
honest and tolerant, charming and well-bred, broad-minded and cultured.
Eternal youth is in her heart, but she has a character gracefully to
accept the years that Providence has allotted her and that only serve to
make her more lovely. I have no patience with the assumption of extreme
youth in the middle-aged, despite the limerick I have taken for my
motto."
"But, Mr. Kinsella, you are not middle-aged," protested Molly. "I never
even think of Mother as being middle-aged. I think that is the ugliest
word in our language, except, maybe, stout. I'd a great deal rather be
called fat and forty than stout and middle-aged!"
"Well, it will be many a year before you will be called either, and by
that time you may change your mind. 'A rose by any other name would
smell as sweet,' and, after all, it is being stout and middle-aged that
makes the difference, not being called it."
While Molly was having the little chat with Mr. Kinsella, Mrs.
Huntington had come on deck and had approached them from behind. Looking
up, Molly surprised on her face an expression of extreme bitterness, and
she wondered if she had overheard Mr. Kinsella's views on the subject of
the assumption of youth in the middle-aged. "I do hope she didn't,"
thought Molly. "She is so pretty, and it must be hard to give up youth
and to feel your beauty slipping from you. Especially hard when beauty
has been your chief asset in life, as I fancy it has been with Mrs.
Huntington." She gave the older woman a polite bow and smile and Mr.
Kinsella formally offered her his chair but with no great cordiality.
"Oh, thank you, Tom. And how are you, Miss Brown? I do hope you are
feeling better. My daughter has taken such a fancy to you, she has been
quite _désolé_ at your nonappearance all day."
"Oh, I am all well again, thanks to Mr. Kinsella's getting me some food
at the psychological moment when health was returning," answered Molly,
wondering at Mrs. Huntington's change of tactics since the evening
before, when she had been so insolent in her bearing to her. "It is
certainly nicer to have her polite to me than rude, whether she means it
or not," she said to herself. "I do wish I had not been sick all day. I
did want to see her first meeting with Mr. Kinsella. I know she had
something to do with his premature grayness and the disappointment that
Pierce hinted at. How coldly polite he is to her now. If a man like that
had ever loved me and then could be so cold to me, I believe it would
kill me," which shows that Molly was very sentimental and on the lookout
for romance.
The gong rang for dinner and there was a general move toward the cabin.
"Please tell Mother I am all right and will sit here while she is at
dinner, and that she must not hurry. I believe 'discretion would be the
better part of valor' for me and I had better not try to eat anything
more for a while."
After the deck was clear except for a few helplessly, hopelessly sick
persons who lay like mummies in their chairs, ranged along the deck,
Molly decided to get up and walk around a little, feeling anxious to try
her sea legs. Then as the wind had shifted, she determined to move her
chair to a sheltered nook behind one of the life-boats. She bundled
herself up in her rug, pulling the corner of it over her head and lay
for all the world like the rest of the mummies. "Only, thank goodness, I
am no longer sick," she thought gratefully.
Her soul was at peace, after the night and day of agony, and she dropped
off easily into a doze. She dreamed that she was at home in the old
apple tree that they had called "The Castle" and that Kent was gently
shaking the tree, trying to make her get out so Professor Green could
build his bungalow there; and when she refused and declared it was her
Castle and she intended to stay in it, the Professor himself had come,
with his kind brown eyes looking into hers, and said: "But, Miss Molly,
the bungalow is yours, too, and the Orchard is still your home." She
awoke but lay quite still wondering at the reality of her dream.