BOHEMIA.
What fun it was to be moving to their own apartment! Mrs. Pace was the
only drawback to their happiness. She was very lugubrious and was sure
they would find the ground floor damp, although it was explained to her
that there was a good cellar under the studio and you went up several
steps to the entrance. For a week before they left her, she would emit
groans and shake her head sadly, saying: "I know it is a great mistake.
These artists are notoriously careless and the place will be filthy, I
haven't a doubt. And then the expense of keeping house is so great.
Never mind, I shall hold your rooms in readiness for you and you can
come back to them at any time."
"I beg you will do no such thing," said Mrs. Brown. "Of course we shall
stay in the studio for six months, as we have rented it for that time.
As for the dirt we are sure to find: you see Mrs. Bent is not an artist
and she has the cleanest rooms I have ever seen."
But nothing convinced Henrietta Pace. She only knew that she was not to
have the very pleasant boarders, so well connected, too, and so easy to
please and courteous. Of course she blamed it on that very pert Miss
Kean, who had defied her from the beginning; but what could one expect
from a girl brought up in no place in particular, not even born in a
fixed spot, (Julia Kean, you remember, was born at sea,) with a father
who openly boasted of having a gizzard? And Mrs. Pace would give what
Judy called, "one of her black satin sighs."
"Why should she dress in black satin all the time?" exclaimed Judy,
after a particularly dismal dinner where Mrs. Pace had spent the time
telling of all the misguided persons who had left her protecting wing
and of the direful things that had befallen them. "The idea of any one
as huge as she is wearing tight black satin! Why, I noticed two great
square high-lights on her, measuring six inches across, one on her arm
and one on her capacious bosom. In the latter, the whole dinner table
was reflected. She should wear soft, loose things where no accenting
high-lights could find a foothold."
"Oh, Judy, you are too delicious!" laughed Molly. "Who but you would
notice the high-lights on your landlady's bosom, and then even the
reflections in those high-lights? But weren't you amused at the
'unmerciful disaster that followed fast and followed faster' all the
boarders that had not stayed at _Maison Pace_?
"One girl married a worthless art student and had to paint bathtubs for
a living; one girl got lead poisoning in a studio where she was
studying; one lady got her pocket picked on the Bois de Boulogne and one
poor gentleman was lost at sea. Two of these calamities certainly could
not have happened in this place. I'd defy anyone to get married here,
even to a worthless art student, nor could one very well get lost at
sea. I am glad we are to leave to-morrow and also glad that Elise
O'Brien will not come until we are installed in the Rue Brea."
Molly had seen Frances Andrews several times since the recognition at
the Opera, and had found her very agreeable but still peculiar,
passionate and moody. She was extravagant in her affection for Molly and
seemed eager to please Mrs. Brown. On the one occasion in which she had
seen Judy when she called at the _Maison Pace_, she had been embarrassed
and ill at ease with her and a little wistful, Molly thought.
She whispered to Molly on leaving: "I know Miss Kean despises me, but
don't let her influence you. I am not as good as you think I am, but I
am not half so bad as Miss Kean thinks I am. I got in wrong at
Wellington and never could live down that scrape. Breaking the eleventh
commandment is a terrible mistake: getting found out, I mean. I really
did not do anything nearly so bad as lots of the other girls: Judith
Blount, for instance. She did _mean_ things and I never did. I was my
own worst enemy and harmed no one else."
"Well, Judith Blount has 'come through,' as the darkeys say when they
get religion, wonderfully well. It was the best thing that ever happened
for her to become poor; and then she had such a wise little friend,
Madeleine Pettit, who showed her how to work. You know I am your friend,
Frances, and always did like you. You must not think Judy Kean does not,
too. I am sure she has no reason to dislike you," and Molly bade her
good-by with promises to come to call on her and her grandmother very
soon.
But Frances was not mistaken about Judy's feelings for her. That young
woman had a deep-seated dislike to the handsome, dashing Frances. "I
don't trust her, Molly. She certainly did a dishonorable thing at
college, and her eyes, although they are so beautiful, are a little
shifty. I don't want to like her and I don't mean to, so there!"
The Browns' move from Boulevard St. Michael amounted almost to a
flitting in the eyes of Mrs. Pace, as they departed while she was at
market and had to leave their good-bye with Alphonsine for their
respected landlady. The Marquise d'Ochtè sent her limousine to convey
them to their new quarters, and knowing the habits of the redoubtable
Henny, she deliberately had the chauffeur call very early for her
cousins so that they could avoid the stormy good-bye she knew they would
have to undergo.
They found the apartment shining and beautiful, everything swept and
garnished, a fire burning in the big stove in the studio and a wonderful
green bowl of chrysanthemums on the table. A little note was stuck in
the flowers, bidding them welcome from the Bents and wishing them joy in
the apartment where they had been so happy themselves.
"Aren't they the nicest people you ever saw," exclaimed Mrs. Brown. "The
place looks as though it had been arranged for honored guests instead of
just renters. I don't see how they could have slept here last night,
eaten breakfast here, and left everything in such apple pie order. I
almost wish Mrs. Pace could see it, just to keep her from feeling so
sorry for us. Now let's unpack, put away our clothes, and make a list of
what we need in the larder. When we go out for luncheon, we can do our
purchasing."
"Of course we'll have dinner at home to-night. Elise gets in at
four-thirty and Mr. Kinsella says he thinks there will be no doubt about
her coming straight to us. He is to meet them at the station and intends
to put the question immediately to Mrs. Huntington, and if her answer is
favorable, he will bring Elise to us bag and baggage. So Pierce told me
when he stopped in on his way to the art school to see if he could be of
any service to us in the move. Oh, my mother, aren't we going to have a
lovely time in our own little flat and away from that terrible dragon?"
Molly kissed her mother and then flew up the steps of the balcony to the
sleeping quarters that she and Judy were to occupy, just to peep out of
the window into the court. Then she ran to the tiny kitchen. "I am
itching to get to work on that little gas stove and see how it cooks,"
she exclaimed.
"Now, Molly, there is one thing I am going to put my foot down about:
you are not to be working and cooking all the time we are in Paris. If
this housekeeping is going to make you slave constantly, we will give it
up and go back to Mrs. Pace. We will all share the work; the girls must
do their part, too," and Mrs. Brown looked quite serious and determined.
"I promise, Mumsy, not to overwork but please let me do most of the
cooking. I simply love to cook and I know Judy can't brew a cup of tea
or boil an egg, and I fancy Elise has not had the kind of training that
would make her very domestic. Of course, I'll be studying myself before
so very long at the Sorbonne, and then I am afraid you will be the one
to be overworked."
Just then there was a knock at the door: it proved to be the
short-haired female artist from the adjoining studio. "I saw you had
just moved in and I came to offer my assistance in settling you if you
need me," she said in a voice singularly low and sweet for one of her
very mannish appearance.
Her sandy hair was parted on the side and rather tousled, she had a
freckled face and a turned-up nose, and a broad, good-natured, clever
looking mouth. Her clothes were just as near being a man's as the law
allowed: black Turkish trousers and a workman's blouse with paint all
over the back, giving it very much the effect of the Bents' china press.
Mrs. Brown and Molly looked at her wonderingly. She was a new and
strange specimen to them. Their politeness was equal, however, to any
shock and they thanked her for her kindness and asked her to come in.
"My name is Williams, Josephine Williams, commonly known as Jo Bill.
Mrs. Bent told me of you and asked me to look after you until you got on
to the ways of the Quarter and the tricks of the concierge. I thought
I'd begin by asking you to afternoon tea to-morrow. I wish I could have
you to-day but I've got a model posing for me and I must work every
minute of daylight. I am going to get in the Kinsellas, our other
neighbors, and Polly Perkins,--that is the man who lives in the court
with us. He is not nearly such a big fool as he looks and talks."
"Is his name really 'Polly?'" asked Molly.
"Oh, no! He has a perfectly good man's name, but I am blessed if I
remember it. Everybody calls him Polly. He is a cubist painter, you
know; does the weirdest things and now has taken up a kind of cubist
effect in sculpture; but you will see his things for yourself. I'd like
to give him a good shaking and stand him in the corner. The poor fool
can draw; made quite a name for himself at Carlo Rossi's and has a sense
of color that even this crazy cult can't down. Goodness, how I am
rattling on! I must fly back to my model who has rested long enough. You
will come to-morrow, then? Please bring three tea cups with you," and
the strange looking female strode off.
"Mother, isn't she funny? I like her, though, and think it will be grand
to have tea with her and to meet 'Polly'."
"I like her, too," said Mrs. Brown. "She has such a nice, big, honest
mouth. You know I never could stand little mouths. But, Molly, how on
earth does she manage to wipe her paint brush on the back of her blouse
and keep the front so clean? I wonder what kind of an artist she is."
"Maybe she is a futurist or a symbolist. Anyhow, she is very cordial and
kind. I wish Aunt Clay could know that we are to have tea with a woman
in trousers and a long-haired man."
The shops in the Rue Brea proved to be all that could be desired. A
delightful little coffee, tea and chocolate shop was the first to be
visited. It was no bigger than their tiled kitchen, but was lined with
mirrors which gave it quite a spacious effect. The madame who presided
was lovely and looked just like a cocoa advertisement in her cap and
apron. They made their purchases of freshly ground Mocha-and-Java coffee
and chocolate. The tea they had been warned against by the Marquise
d'Ochtè. "Never get tea from a French shop or let a French person make
it for you. Tea is beyond the ken of the French."
Then they went to a creamery, painted white inside and out as are all
the creameries in Paris. There were great pyramids of butter ranged
along the marble counter according to its freshness, with rosy girls
deftly patting off pounds and half pounds, quarter pounds and even two
sous' worth. Molly and her mother followed their noses to the freshest
pyramid. It seemed to be just out of the churn and Molly declared that
it made her homesick for Aunt Mary and the dairy at Chatsworth. They
bought some of the delicious unsalted butter for dinner and left an
order for a fresh pat to be sent in every morning for breakfast, also
milk and cream and eggs.
Next came the grocery where they got their list of dull necessities in
the way of flour, lard, salt, pepper, sugar and what not. Then the
bakery, to order the little crescent rolls, _croissants_, to be sent in
every morning and also to purchase a crusty loaf for dinner.
"Mother, smell that smell!" exclaimed Molly as they left the bakery.
"What can it be? It is a mixture of all good cooking but I can't
distinguish any particular odor."
Next to the bakery was a poultry shop, with every kind of winged
creature hanging from hooks, inside and out: turkeys, ducks, chickens,
geese, guineas, grouse, pigeons, partridges. In the back of the small,
dark shop was a great open fireplace where logs of wood were blazing
brightly, and in front of this fire were a series of spits, one over the
other, stretching across the whole fireplace, all arranged to turn by a
common crank. On these spits were stuck specimens of the different
birds, and a fat, red-faced youth in white cap and blouse turned the
spit and basted the browning fowls from a long, deep trough which caught
all of the drippings. And so it happened that the turkeys borrowed
delicacy from the pigeons; and the chickens, flavor from the wild duck,
etc. And the gravy: Oh that gravy! All the perfumes of Araby could not
equal it. The Browns were carried away by their discovery of this
wonderful place. They immediately purchased a fine fat hen and monsieur,
the proprietor, promised to have it roasted and sent hot to them by
six-thirty.
"And please give us a whole lot of gravy, _beaucoup de jus_," demanded
Molly.
The charming fat boy gave her a beaming smile and determined to take an
extra quantity to the beautiful Americaine if he lost his job as
spitter.
The dinner was a great success. Elise did come directly from the station
as they had hoped she would, and she was so happy at being made one of
the gay little crowd in the Rue Brea and so grateful to Mrs. Brown for
taking her into her fold, that it made all of them glad to have her.
"Isn't it splendid to be able to loosen up and undress for dinner? It is
especially fine when the dinner is so delicious," exclaimed Elise. "I am
going to learn how to cook, if Molly will help me. Mamma never would let
me go near the kitchen, and do you know I have never even seen any
uncooked food except in shop windows and don't know a raw beefsteak from
an old boot leg?"
"Papa says a French chef can cook up a boot leg with a sauce surprise
that you couldn't for the life of you tell from the finest kind of
steak. Now this roast chicken is the best I have ever tasted, with a
gravy that has the squawk of the wild duck and the coo of a pigeon
and----" but here Judy stopped to help herself plentifully to the
wonderful gravy and Molly finished out her speech for her:
"And the gobble of a turkey; and what attribute of the goose?"
The table in the studio, with its bowl of chrysanthemums, strips of
Japanese toweling in lieu of a cloth, and odd blue china was very
attractive. The china was odd in two senses of the word, as not a single
saucer matched its cup and no two plates were of the same size. But what
mattered that? Was not the coffee in the cups of the hottest and
clearest and strongest? Was not the chicken and gravy, on the
miscellaneous plates, food for the gods? Was not the rice, _à la New
Orleans_, a marvel of culinary skill? Where but in Paris could one find
such crusty bread and delicious butter? The _salade Romaine_ was crisp
and fresh and Judy had made the salad dressing. It was her one
accomplishment in the way of preparing food. She did it in great style
and was always much hurt if any one else was given her job.
"Judy reminds me of Garrick and ought to make the dressing, anyhow,"
said Molly. "You remember what Sydney Smith said of him: 'Our Garrick's
a salad, for in him we see, oil, vinegar, pepper, and mustard agree.'"
"Do you know the Spanish recipe for salad dressing?" asked Elise. "'A
spendthrift for oil; a niggard for vinegar; a sane man for salt and a
maniac for beating it.'"
Judy was proving her suitability by beating so vigorously and clicking
so loudly with the fork, that a gentle knock on the door had to be
sharply repeated before they were sure of it. There was a general
scramble from the kimonoed crowd, who were not expecting a visitor at
this hour. But Mrs. Brown, who wore a black China silk wrapper and was
always presentable, went to the door where a small boy in a long white
linen apron and a baker's cap stood with a huge flat basket on his head.
"_Un gâteau pour Madame Brune._"
"But we have not ordered a cake."
But the small boy was sure it was a cake for Mrs. Brown, and when the
great flat basket was lifted from his head, there, in verity, was
reposing a beautiful mocha cake with Mrs. Brown's name and address
distinctly written on a card, but nothing else.
"An anonymous cake for Mumsy," laughed Molly. "Oh, you chaperone!"
There was another knock at the door, which this time turned out to be a
bunch of violets apiece for the four ladies from Mr. Kinsella and a box
of chocolates from Pierce.
"Why, this is a house warming, girls! What next? I wonder who sent the
cake."
Mrs. Brown cut generous slices of that _spécialité_ of Paris, with its
luscious, soft coffee-flavored covering, hardly an icing, as it is too
soft and creamy to be called that.
"_Ah, j'en ai jusque à la_," said Judy, disposing of the last crumb of
cake and making a motion of cutting her throat with her hand, "which in
plain English means 'stuffed'. I am glad we can't eat the violets. Maybe
after we move around a little we can hold some chocolates, but not yet,
not yet!"
Mrs. Brown and Molly began to clear off the table, but they were
forcibly held by Elise and Judy who insisted that the scullions' part
was theirs.
"Mamma tried to make me promise to stand twenty minutes after meals for
form's sake, I mean my own form," said Elise. "And what could be better
than washing dishes for the complexion? A good steaming is what Mamma
has said I need, as she declares I am so sallow, so I shall steam over
the dishpan. Let's make a rule never to leave the dishes, no matter how
tired we are. Mr. Kinsella says that when he and my father were sharing
a studio here in Paris, when they were boys, they used to leave the
dishes until they had used up all their supply; and then they would turn
them over and eat off the bottoms of the plates. He says those careless
ways are what disgust one finally with Bohemia."
"It was certainly kind of Mr. Kinsella to remember me, too, and send me
a bunch of violets," said Judy as she wiped the cups Elise was washing.
"Mr. Kinsella is always kind," said Elise. "There never was such a
thoughtful man. I feel so grateful to him, and I am going to work like a
Trojan to let him see how I appreciate his interest in me." Elise
blushed rather more than mere gratitude called for, and Judy thought
that the dish water steaming was improving her complexion greatly
already. She determined to wash next time herself and let Elise do the
drying!