MR. KINSELLA'S INDIAN SUMMER.
The next morning Molly arranged a tray with a very inviting breakfast
and took it to Elise's room. She found her still in bed, looking very
woebegone and wistful.
"Oh, Molly! You should not spoil me so. I was getting up, at least
thinking about getting up. I did not sleep very well at first and
towards morning went off into such a deep slumber that I could not wake
up," exclaimed the girl.
"I love to spoil people, besides you are always the energetic one and
might for once be allowed a little morning snooze. I hope Judy and I did
not keep you awake. She had so many adventures to tell me that it was
two o'clock before we quieted down. She got into the wrong train at
Versailles and was landed at Chartres with only six sous in her pocket.
With part of this wealth she sent me this postal which has just come,
fearing when she sent it that she might have to spend the night in
Chartres. Only read it and see what a plight she was in," said Molly,
handing the smudgy, pencilled postal to Elise.
"Dearest Molly: Here I am alone in Chartres, where as far as I can see
there is not one friendly soul. Got on the wrong train at Versailles.
Have five sous left after buying this postal but am not discouraged.
Will try to sell my sketch box. Have no jewelry but have enough
gingerbread to keep me from starving. Will sit up all night in station.
Get Pierce to come for me in morning and bring my toothbrush. Will be
home soon as I get some money. Judy."
"Guess whom she met first in Chartres: Frances Andrews and her
grandmother! Then Mr. Kinsella. But before she did anything, she sold
her sketches for enough to get her here third class on the train. She
has made up with Frances and is now as enthusiastic about her as she
used to be down on her. What a Judy she is, anyhow!
"Mr. Kinsella has been here twice this morning to ask if he could see
you. He is afraid you are ill because you are sleeping so late. He told
me to beg you not to go to the art school this morning but to take a
holiday with him. He says this wonderful weather will have to break
soon, as it is too unseasonable to last."
Molly's heart was filled with joy to see the effect her words had on her
friend.
Elise finished the last crumb of _croissant_ and drained the last drop
of coffee. "It does seem best to take advantage of the good weather for
a little outing, and, besides, the model we have is thoroughly
uninteresting this week."
Elise bounced out of bed and Molly noticed that all trace of her bad
night had left her face. Elise did not remember that only the day before
she had thought the model too interesting to think of cutting work for
the day!
Judy, peeping from her balcony where Molly had been spoiling her, too,
with breakfast in bed, saw Mr. Kinsella and Elise start off on their
jaunt.
"Molly, Molly!" she screamed. "I have made a most wonderful discovery:
Elise and Mr. Kinsella are--are--well, seekin'! As they went off just
now there was something in the way he looked at her and she looked at
him that made me know it's so."
"Well, old mole, if you had not been as blind as a bat you would have
seen that all winter. I was dead to tell you, so you would not make
Elise so jealous of you, but mother would not let me. She thought it
would not be fair to Elise. I knew if you knew you would be
careful----" but Judy could not let Molly finish.
"Careful! Elise jealous of me! Uncle Tom and me! Oh, Molly, Molly, how
absurd! Why, Mr. Kinsella has kept close to me to be ready to catch
Pierce by the heels and pull him out, in case I should decide to gobble
him up. I thought everybody knew that. The only reason he decided to go
off on this trip was that I had a heart-to-heart talk with him and told
him that he need not have any fear of me, that I was--was--but never
mind what I told him. Anyhow, he is not afraid I'll make a meal of his
beloved Pierce."
"How about Pierce?" asked Molly. "Is he, too, relieved at his assured
safety?"
"That kid!" sniffed Judy. "He is not in the least in love with anything
but his art. I fancy it would bore him to death if he thought Uncle Tom
and I had had that talk. He likes me just as he would another boy."
Molly felt very happy that the clouds were all clearing away and her
friends were behaving as friends should. She went off to her lecture
hoping that Mr. Kinsella and Elise would quickly come to an
understanding, and glad that she and her beloved Judy were once more on
the old confidential terms.
Mr. Kinsella and Elise did come to an understanding and that
understanding was perfectly satisfactory to both of them. They spent a
wonderful day together, following the trail Judy had taken the day
before, the morning at St. Cloud, with luncheon later on at Versailles.
But they did not dance with the wedding parties they met, nor did they
take the wrong train and go to Chartres instead of back to Paris.
It seemed so marvelous to Mr. Kinsella that this young, handsome,
brilliant girl should find anything in him to care for, middle-aged,
careworn man that he felt himself to be. On the other hand, Elise was
equally astonished that a man of Mr. Kinsella's keen intelligence and
experience could put up with a foolish, silly girl like herself. He
endeavored to make her understand what a remarkable young woman she
really was; and she tried equally hard to explain to him that his age
was one of his chief attractions in her eyes, but that his virtues were
so numerous it was hard to tell which ones made her love him so much.
At any rate, they came back to Paris with a much better opinion of
themselves than they had taken away. Mr. Kinsella looked more than ever
like a gray-haired Pierce. He said he had taken a dip in the fountain of
eternal youth and never intended to get a day older than he was. Elise's
eyes were sparkling and her cheeks all aglow. Her mother could not have
complained that she lacked animation now or that her sallow complexion
needed steaming.
When they returned to the studio in Rue Brea, they found Mrs. Brown,
Molly and Judy trying not to look expectant, but, as Judy said, "ready
to pop with curiosity." Elise ran to Mrs. Brown, and throwing her arms
around her dear chaperone, hid her blushing face on her shoulder; while
Mr. Kinsella, with boyish ingenuousness, said: "Well, what do you think?
Elise and I have gone and done it!"
Enthusiastic congratulations followed and no one asked the question:
"Done what?"
"We thought at first we would not tell for a few days, but keep our
secret; but I have been persuading Elise that there is no use in waiting
for wedding finery. She is beautiful enough in the clothes she has. And
we have determined to go to Rome, where Mrs. Huntington now is, and be
married immediately."
"That will be splendid," declared Mrs. Brown, "but we are sorry not to
have it here, so we can all be present. I hate to give up my girl, but,
of course, she must go straight to her mother."
"The only thing I don't like about it is for me, of all people, to be
the one to interrupt Elise's studies at the art school, after all my
talk about its being so important for her to get in a winter of hard,
continuous work! I am afraid Mrs. Huntington will think I am not very
consistent," laughed the happy fiancé.
Molly was wondering, too, what Mrs. Huntington would think of the match.
She hoped Mr. Kinsella had told Elise of his former attachment to her
mother, and that Elise would be prepared for the more than probable
taunts from that far from considerate lady. Mr. Kinsella was well aware
of the disposition of his prospective mother-in-law, and had prepared
Elise by divulging to her the fact that he had at one time been engaged
to her mother; but he spared her the knowledge of her perfidy. Mrs.
Huntington had already told her daughter of what she designated a
conquest of Tom Kinsella, as she was ever inclined to boast of the
number of scalps of former suitors and to wear them as ornaments.
Mrs. Huntington proved to be very much pleased with the alliance. She
had tried to inform herself of Mr. Kinsella's affairs and had been
delighted to learn that he was really rich. She was too keen an observer
not to know that Mr. Kinsella's interest in Elise was not altogether
because of her father, nor yet her artistic talent. She had predicted to
herself from the first that Tom Kinsella was falling in love with her
daughter, and felt that her wisest course was to take herself off and
not interfere in any way.
Elise, accompanied by her adoring lover and Pierce (Pierce rather dazed
by the rapidity of the proceedings), and chaperoned by a lady produced
by the ever resourceful Marquis d'Ochtè, made her journey to Rome. She
found her mother in a most gracious humor and not even inclined to
object to the marriage being hurried. Elise had rather feared she would
obstruct their plans with a plea for wedding clothes, but her mother
knew very well when it was wise to acquiesce. She gave in very
gracefully and actually consented to Elise's being married in a dress
that was not absolutely new nor of the latest cut.
She felt repaid for her amiability when Mr. Kinsella informed her that
his wife intended, with his entire approval, to make over the bulk of
her fortune to her mother on her twenty-fifth birthday.
"I have enough for all of us, but I know you will be happier if you have
an independent fortune," said the happy bridegroom. "I am so grateful to
you for letting me have Elise that I wish I could do something to show
my appreciation."
"All I can say is that Elise is a very fortunate girl," said Mrs.
Huntington; and there was a glitter in her eye that looked hard but it
was really an unaccustomed tear trying to form itself.
And so Elise and Mr. Kinsella went off on their honeymoon. We will not
even try to find out where they went, but be glad to know that they
found each other more and more delightful and congenial as time passed.
Mr. Kinsella gave the impression more than ever of being a prematurely
gray young man as happiness smoothed out the few lines in his face.
Elise lost altogether the hard, bitter expression that had occasionally
marred her beauty, and quickly blossomed into the sweet, lovely woman
that Mother Nature had planned her to be but that her own mother had
blindly and selfishly tried to nip in the bud.