CHAPTER X.
BOHEMIA.
What fun it was to be moving to their own apartment! Mrs. Pace was theonly drawback to their happiness. She was very lugubrious and was surethey would find the ground floor damp, although it was explained to herthat there was a good cellar under the studio and you went up severalsteps to the entrance. For a week before they left her, she would emitgroans and shake her head sadly, saying: "I know it is a great mistake.These artists are notoriously careless and the place will be filthy, Ihaven'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 cancome back to them at any time."
"I beg you will do no such thing," said Mrs. Brown. "Of course we shallstay 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 artistand she has the cleanest rooms I have ever seen."
But nothing convinced Henrietta Pace. She only knew that she was not tohave the very pleasant boarders, so well connected, too, and so easy toplease and courteous. Of course she blamed it on that very pert MissKean, who had defied her from the beginning; but what could one expectfrom a girl brought up in no place in particular, not even born in afixed spot, (Julia Kean, you remember, was born at sea,) with a fatherwho openly boasted of having a gizzard? And Mrs. Pace would give whatJudy 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 timetelling of all the misguided persons who had left her protecting wingand of the direful things that had befallen them. "The idea of any oneas huge as she is wearing tight black satin! Why, I noticed two greatsquare high-lights on her, measuring six inches across, one on her armand one on her capacious bosom. In the latter, the whole dinner tablewas reflected. She should wear soft, loose things where no accentinghigh-lights could find a foothold."
"Oh, Judy, you are too delicious!" laughed Molly. "Who but you wouldnotice the high-lights on your landlady's bosom, and then even thereflections in those high-lights? But weren't you amused at the'unmerciful disaster that followed fast and followed faster' all theboarders that had not stayed at _Maison Pace_?
"One girl married a worthless art student and had to paint bathtubs fora living; one girl got lead poisoning in a studio where she wasstudying; one lady got her pocket picked on the Bois de Boulogne and onepoor gentleman was lost at sea. Two of these calamities certainly couldnot 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 atsea. I am glad we are to leave to-morrow and also glad that EliseO'Brien will not come until we are installed in the Rue Brea."
Molly had seen Frances Andrews several times since the recognition atthe Opera, and had found her very agreeable but still peculiar,passionate and moody. She was extravagant in her affection for Molly andseemed eager to please Mrs. Brown. On the one occasion in which she hadseen Judy when she called at the _Maison Pace_, she had been embarrassedand ill at ease with her and a little wistful, Molly thought.
She whispered to Molly on leaving: "I know Miss Kean despises me, butdon't let her influence you. I am not as good as you think I am, but Iam not half so bad as Miss Kean thinks I am. I got in wrong atWellington and never could live down that scrape. Breaking the eleventhcommandment is a terrible mistake: getting found out, I mean. I reallydid not do anything nearly so bad as lots of the other girls: JudithBlount, for instance. She did _mean_ things and I never did. I was myown worst enemy and harmed no one else."
"Well, Judith Blount has 'come through,' as the darkeys say when theyget religion, wonderfully well. It was the best thing that ever happenedfor 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 hergood-by with promises to come to call on her and her grandmother verysoon.
But Frances was not mistaken about Judy's feelings for her. That youngwoman had a deep-seated dislike to the handsome, dashing Frances. "Idon't trust her, Molly. She certainly did a dishonorable thing atcollege, and her eyes, although they are so beautiful, are a littleshifty. 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 aflitting in the eyes of Mrs. Pace, as they departed while she was atmarket and had to leave their good-bye with Alphonsine for theirrespected landlady. The Marquise d'Ochte sent her limousine to conveythem to their new quarters, and knowing the habits of the redoubtableHenny, she deliberately had the chauffeur call very early for hercousins so that they could avoid the stormy good-bye she knew they wouldhave to undergo.
They found the apartment shining and beautiful, everything swept andgarnished, a fire burning in the big stove in the studio and a wonderfulgreen bowl of chrysanthemums on the table. A little note was stuck inthe flowers, bidding them welcome from the Bents and wishing them joy inthe apartment where they had been so happy themselves.
"Aren't they the nicest people you ever saw," exclaimed Mrs. Brown. "Theplace looks as though it had been arranged for honored guests instead ofjust renters. I don't see how they could have slept here last night,eaten breakfast here, and left everything in such apple pie order. Ialmost wish Mrs. Pace could see it, just to keep her from feeling sosorry for us. Now let's unpack, put away our clothes, and make a list ofwhat we need in the larder. When we go out for luncheon, we can do ourpurchasing."
"Of course we'll have dinner at home to-night. Elise gets in atfour-thirty and Mr. Kinsella says he thinks there will be no doubt abouther coming straight to us. He is to meet them at the station and intendsto put the question immediately to Mrs. Huntington, and if her answer isfavorable, he will bring Elise to us bag and baggage. So Pierce told mewhen he stopped in on his way to the art school to see if he could be ofany service to us in the move. Oh, my mother, aren't we going to have alovely 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 thesleeping quarters that she and Judy were to occupy, just to peep out ofthe window into the court. Then she ran to the tiny kitchen. "I amitching 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. Ifthis housekeeping is going to make you slave constantly, we will give itup and go back to Mrs. Pace. We will all share the work; the girls mustdo their part, too," and Mrs. Brown looked quite serious and determined.
"I promise, Mumsy, not to overwork but please let me do most of thecooking. I simply love to cook and I know Judy can't brew a cup of teaor boil an egg, and I fancy Elise has not had the kind of training thatwould make her very domestic. Of course, I'll be studying myself beforeso very long at the Sorbonne, and then I am afraid you will be the oneto be overworked."
Just then there was a knock at the door: it proved to be theshort-haired female artist from the adjoining studio. "I saw you hadjust moved in and I came to offer my assistance in settling you if youneed me," she said in a voice singularly low and sweet for one of hervery mannish appearance.
Her sandy hair was parted on the side and rather tousled, she had afreckled face and a turned-up nose, and a broad, good-natured, cleverlooking mouth. Her clothes were just as near being a man's as the lawallowed: black Turkish trousers and a workman's blouse with paint allover 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 andstrange specimen to them. Their politeness was equal, however, to anyshock 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 onto the ways of the Quarter and the tri
cks of the concierge. I thoughtI'd begin by asking you to afternoon tea to-morrow. I wish I could haveyou to-day but I've got a model posing for me and I must work everyminute of daylight. I am going to get in the Kinsellas, our otherneighbors, and Polly Perkins,--that is the man who lives in the courtwith 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 Iremember it. Everybody calls him Polly. He is a cubist painter, youknow; does the weirdest things and now has taken up a kind of cubisteffect in sculpture; but you will see his things for yourself. I'd liketo give him a good shaking and stand him in the corner. The poor foolcan draw; made quite a name for himself at Carlo Rossi's and has a senseof color that even this crazy cult can't down. Goodness, how I amrattling on! I must fly back to my model who has rested long enough. Youwill come to-morrow, then? Please bring three tea cups with you," andthe strange looking female strode off.
"Mother, isn't she funny? I like her, though, and think it will be grandto have tea with her and to meet 'Polly'."
"I like her, too," said Mrs. Brown. "She has such a nice, big, honestmouth. You know I never could stand little mouths. But, Molly, how onearth does she manage to wipe her paint brush on the back of her blouseand 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 andkind. I wish Aunt Clay could know that we are to have tea with a womanin trousers and a long-haired man."
The shops in the Rue Brea proved to be all that could be desired. Adelightful little coffee, tea and chocolate shop was the first to bevisited. It was no bigger than their tiled kitchen, but was lined withmirrors which gave it quite a spacious effect. The madame who presidedwas lovely and looked just like a cocoa advertisement in her cap andapron. They made their purchases of freshly ground Mocha-and-Java coffeeand chocolate. The tea they had been warned against by the Marquised'Ochte. "Never get tea from a French shop or let a French person makeit for you. Tea is beyond the ken of the French."
Then they went to a creamery, painted white inside and out as are allthe creameries in Paris. There were great pyramids of butter rangedalong the marble counter according to its freshness, with rosy girlsdeftly patting off pounds and half pounds, quarter pounds and even twosous' worth. Molly and her mother followed their noses to the freshestpyramid. It seemed to be just out of the churn and Molly declared thatit made her homesick for Aunt Mary and the dairy at Chatsworth. Theybought some of the delicious unsalted butter for dinner and left anorder for a fresh pat to be sent in every morning for breakfast, alsomilk and cream and eggs.
Next came the grocery where they got their list of dull necessities inthe way of flour, lard, salt, pepper, sugar and what not. Then thebakery, to order the little crescent rolls, _croissants_, to be sent inevery 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'tdistinguish any particular odor."
Next to the bakery was a poultry shop, with every kind of wingedcreature 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 blazingbrightly, and in front of this fire were a series of spits, one over theother, stretching across the whole fireplace, all arranged to turn by acommon crank. On these spits were stuck specimens of the differentbirds, and a fat, red-faced youth in white cap and blouse turned thespit and basted the browning fowls from a long, deep trough which caughtall of the drippings. And so it happened that the turkeys borroweddelicacy from the pigeons; and the chickens, flavor from the wild duck,etc. And the gravy: Oh that gravy! All the perfumes of Araby could notequal it. The Browns were carried away by their discovery of thiswonderful place. They immediately purchased a fine fat hen and monsieur,the proprietor, promised to have it roasted and sent hot to them bysix-thirty.
"And please give us a whole lot of gravy, _beaucoup de jus_," demandedMolly.
The charming fat boy gave her a beaming smile and determined to take anextra quantity to the beautiful Americaine if he lost his job asspitter.
The dinner was a great success. Elise did come directly from the stationas they had hoped she would, and she was so happy at being made one ofthe gay little crowd in the Rue Brea and so grateful to Mrs. Brown fortaking 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 isespecially fine when the dinner is so delicious," exclaimed Elise. "I amgoing to learn how to cook, if Molly will help me. Mamma never would letme go near the kitchen, and do you know I have never even seen anyuncooked food except in shop windows and don't know a raw beefsteak froman old boot leg?"
"Papa says a French chef can cook up a boot leg with a sauce surprisethat you couldn't for the life of you tell from the finest kind ofsteak. Now this roast chicken is the best I have ever tasted, with agravy that has the squawk of the wild duck and the coo of a pigeonand----" but here Judy stopped to help herself plentifully to thewonderful 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 ofJapanese toweling in lieu of a cloth, and odd blue china was veryattractive. The china was odd in two senses of the word, as not a singlesaucer matched its cup and no two plates were of the same size. But whatmattered that? Was not the coffee in the cups of the hottest andclearest and strongest? Was not the chicken and gravy, on themiscellaneous plates, food for the gods? Was not the rice, _a la NewOrleans_, a marvel of culinary skill? Where but in Paris could one findsuch crusty bread and delicious butter? The _salade Romaine_ was crispand fresh and Judy had made the salad dressing. It was her oneaccomplishment in the way of preparing food. She did it in great styleand 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'sa salad, for in him we see, oil, vinegar, pepper, and mustard agree.'"
"Do you know the Spanish recipe for salad dressing?" asked Elise. "'Aspendthrift for oil; a niggard for vinegar; a sane man for salt and amaniac for beating it.'"
Judy was proving her suitability by beating so vigorously and clickingso loudly with the fork, that a gentle knock on the door had to besharply repeated before they were sure of it. There was a generalscramble from the kimonoed crowd, who were not expecting a visitor atthis hour. But Mrs. Brown, who wore a black China silk wrapper and wasalways presentable, went to the door where a small boy in a long whitelinen apron and a baker's cap stood with a huge flat basket on his head.
"_Un gateau 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 thegreat flat basket was lifted from his head, there, in verity, wasreposing a beautiful mocha cake with Mrs. Brown's name and addressdistinctly 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 abunch of violets apiece for the four ladies from Mr. Kinsella and a boxof chocolates from Pierce.
"Why, this is a house warming, girls! What next? I wonder who sent thecake."
Mrs. Brown cut generous slices of that _specialite_ of Paris, with itsluscious, soft coffee-flavored covering, hardly an icing, as it is toosoft and creamy to be called that.
"_Ah, j'en ai jusque a la_," said Judy, disposing of the last crumb ofcake and making a motion of cutting her throat with her hand, "which inplain English means 'stuffed'. I am glad we can't eat the violets. Maybeafter 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 wereforcibly held by Elise and Judy who insisted that the scullions' partwas theirs.
"Mamma tried to make me promise to stand twenty minutes after meals forform's sake, I mean my own form," said Elise. "And what could be betterthan washing dishes for the complexion? A good steaming is what Mammahas said I need, as she declares I am so sallow, so I shall steam overthe dishpan. Let's make a rule never to leave the dishes, no matter howtired we are. Mr. Kinsella says that when he and my father were sharinga studio here in Paris, when they were boys, they used to leave thedishes until they had used up all their supply; and then they would turnthem over and eat off the bottoms of the plates. He says those carelessways are what disgust one finally with Bohemia."
"It was certainly kind of Mr. Kinsella to remember me, too, and send mea bunch of violets," said Judy as she wiped the cups Elise was washing.
"Mr. Kinsella is always kind," said Elise. "There never was such athoughtful man. I feel so grateful to him, and I am going to work like aTrojan to let him see how I appreciate his interest in me." Eliseblushed rather more than mere gratitude called for, and Judy thoughtthat the dish water steaming was improving her complexion greatlyalready. She determined to wash next time herself and let Elise do thedrying!