CHAPTER VII.
AN INCIDENT OF THE COFFEE CUPS.
Molly turned up at the Beta Phi House about five o'clock the nextevening. She wore a blue linen so that if any grease sputtered it wouldfall harmlessly on wash goods, and in other ways attired herself as muchlike a maid as possible with white collar and cuffs and a very plaintight arrangement of the hair.
"If I'm to be a servant, I might as well look like one," she thought, asshe marched upstairs and rapped on Judith's door.
"Come in," called the voice of Jennie Wren. "Judith's gone walking withher guests," she explained; "but she left her orders with me, and I'lltransmit them to you," she added rather grandly. "You are to do thecooking. Here are all the things in the ice box, and there's the gasstove on the trunk. Miss Brinton and I will set the table."
Molly gathered that Caroline Brinton, the unbending young woman fromPhiladelphia, had been chosen as her assistant.
The tiny ice box was stuffed full of provisions. There was theinevitable beefsteak, as Sallie had predicted; also canned soup; a headof celery, olives, grape fruits, olive oil, mushrooms, cheese--really,a bewildering display of food stuffs.
"Did Miss Blount decide on the courses?" Molly asked Jennie Wren.
"No; she got the raw material and left the rest entirely with you. 'Tellher to get up a good dinner for six people,' she said. 'I don't care howshe does it, only she must have it promptly at six-fifteen.'"
There were only two holes to the gas stove and likewise only twosaucepans to fit over them, so that it behooved Molly to look alive ifshe were to prepare dinner for six in an hour and a quarter.
"Where's the can opener?" she called.
A calm, experienced cook with the patience of a saint might have feltsome slight irritability if she had been placed in Molly's shoes thatevening. Nothing could be found. There was no can opener, no ice pick,the coffeepot had a limited capacity of four cups, and there wasno broiler for the steak. It had to be cooked in a pan. It must beconfessed also that it was the first time in her life Molly had evercooked an entire meal. She had only made what her grandmother would havecalled "covered dishes," or surprise dishes, and she now found preparinga dinner of four courses for six people rather a bewildering task.
At last there came the sound of voices in the next room. She put on thebeefsteak. Her cheeks were flaming from the heat of the little stove.Her back ached from leaning over, and her head ached with responsibilityand excitement.
"Is everything all right?" demanded Judith, blowing into the room withan air of "if it isn't it will be the worse for you."
"I believe so," answered Molly.
"Why did you put the anchovies on crackers?" demanded the older girlirritably. "They should have been on toast."
"Because there wasn't enough bread for one thing, and because there wasno way to toast it if there had been," answered Molly shortly.
No cook likes to be interfered with at that crucial moment just beforedinner.
"Here are your cap and apron," went on Judith. "You know how to wait,don't you? Always hand things at the left side."
"Water happens to be poured from the right," answered Molly, pinning onthe little muslin cap. She was in no mood to be dictated to by JudithBlount or any other black-eyed vixen.
Judith made no answer. She seemed excited and absent-minded.
Caroline placed the anchovies while Molly poured the soup into cups,there being no plates. The voices of the company floated in to her.Jennie Wren had joined them, making the sixth.
She heard a man's voice exclaim:
"I say, Ju-ju, I call this very luxurious. We never had anything so fineas this at Harvard. You always could hold up the parent and get what youwanted. Now, I never had the nerve. And, by the way, have you got acook, too?"
"Only for to-night," answered Judith. "We usually eat downstairs withthe others."
"You're working some poor little freshman, ten to one," answeredJudith's brother, for that was evidently who it was. Then Molly heardsome one run up a brilliant scale and strike a chord and a good baritonevoice began singing:
"'Oh, I'm a cook and a captain bold, And a mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmatemite, And the crew of the captain's gig.'"
"Why don't you join in, Eddie? But I forgot. It would never do for aProfessor of English Literature at a girls' college to lift his voice inribald song."
Some one laughed. Molly recognized the voice instantly. She knew thatProfessor Edwin Green was dining at Judith's that night, and herinquiring mind reached out even further into the realms of conjecture,and she guessed who was the author of his light opera.
"Cousin Edwin, will you sit there, next to me?" said Judith's voice.
"Cousin?" repeated Molly. "So that's it, is it?"
Then other voices joined in--Mary Stewart, Jennie Wren and MarthaSchaeffer, a rich girl from Chicago, who roomed in that house.
They gobbled down the first course as people usually dispatch relishes,and as Caroline removed the dishes, Molly appeared with the soup. Noneof the girls recognized her, of course, which was perfectly good collegeetiquette, although Mary Stewart smiled when Molly placed her cup ofsoup and whispered:
"Good work."
Molly gave her a grateful look, and Professor Edwin Green, looking up,caught a glimpse of Molly's flushed face, and smiled, too.
"I say, Ju-ju, who's your head waitress?" Molly could not helpoverhearing Richard Blount ask when she had left the room.
"Oh, just a little Southern girl named Smith, or something," answeredJudith carelessly.
"That young lady," said Professor Edwin Green, "is Miss Molly Brown, ofKentucky."
The young freshman's face was crimson when she brought in the steak andplaced it in front of Mr. Blount.
Then she took her stand correctly behind his chair, with a plate in herhand, waiting for him to carve.
Sometimes two members of the same family are so unlike that it is almostimpossible to believe that blood from the same stock runs in theirveins. So it was with Richard Blount and his sister, Judith. She wastall and dark and arrogant, and he was short and blond and full ofgood-humored gayety. He rallied all the girls at the table. He teasedhis Cousin Edwin. He teased his sister, and then he ended by highlypraising the food, looking all the time from one corner of his mild blueeyes at Molly's flushed face.
"Really," he exclaimed, "a French chef must have broiled this steak. Noteven Delmonico, nor Oscar himself at the Waldorf, could have done itbetter. Isn't it the top-notch, Eddie? What's this? Mushroom sauce? ByJupiter, it's wonderful to come out here in the wilds and get suchfood."
Mary Stewart began to laugh. After all, it was just good-naturedraillery.
"Why, Mr. Blount," she said, "there is something to be found here thatis lots better than porter-house steak."
"What is it? Name it, please!" cried Richard. "If I must miss the train,I must have some, whatever it is--cream puffs or chocolate fudge?"
"It's Kentucky ham of the finest, what do you call it--breed? Threeyears old. You've never eaten ham until you've tasted it."
She smiled charmingly at Molly, who pretended to look unconscious whileshe passed the vegetables. Judith endeavored to change the subject.
She was angry with Mary for thus bringing her freshman waitress intoprominence. But Molly was destined to be the heroine of the evening inspite of all efforts against it.
"Old Kentucky ham!" cried Richard Blount, starting from his chair withmock seriousness, "Where is it? I implore you to tell me. My soul criesout for old ham from the dark and bloody battleground of Kentucky!"
Everybody began to laugh, and Judith exclaimed:
"Do hush, Richard. You are so absurd! Did he behave this way at Harvardall the time, Cousin Edwin?"
"Oh, yes; only more so. But tell me more of this wonderful ham, MissStewart."
Molly wondered if Professor Green really understood that it was all ajoke on her when he asked that question.
Sudde
nly she formed a resolution. Following her assistant into the nextroom, she whispered:
"Which would you rather do, Miss Brinton? Go over to Queen's and askNance to give you the rest of my ham or wait on the table while I go?"
"I'd rather get the ham," replied Miss Brinton, whose proud spirit wascrushed by the menial service she had been obliged to undertake thatevening.
The dinner progressed. In a little while Molly had cleared the table andwas preparing to bring on the grape-fruit salad when Caroline appearedwith the remnants of the ham. Molly removed it from its wrappings and,placing it on a dish, bore it triumphantly into the next room.
"What's this?" cried Richard Blount. "Do my eyes deceive me? Am Idreaming? Is it possible----"
"The old ham, or, rather, the attenuated ghost of the old ham!"ejaculated Mary Stewart.
Even Judith joined in the burst of merriment, and Professor Green'slaugh was the gayest of all.
Molly returned with the carving knife and fork, and Richard Blount beganto snip off small pieces.
"'Ham bone am very sweet,'" he sang, one eye on Molly.
"It is certainly wonderful," exclaimed Professor Green, as he tasted thedelicate meat; "but it seems like robbery to deprive the owner of it."
"Now, Edwin, you keep quiet, please," interrupted Richard. "I've heardthat some owners of old hams are just as fond of things sweeter than hambones. A five-pound box ought to be the equivalent of this, eh?"
"Really, Richard, you go too far," put in Judith, frowning at herbrother.
But Richard took not the slightest notice of her, nor did he pause untilhe had cleaned the ham bone of every scrap of meat left on it.
"Aren't you going to catch your train?" asked Judith.
"I think not to-night, Ju-ju," he answered, smiling amiably. "Edwin, canyou put me up? If not, I'll stop at the inn in the village."
"No, indeed, you won't, Dick. You must stop with me. I have an extrabed, solely in hopes you might stay in it some night. And later thisevening we might run over--er--a few notes."
He looked consciously at Richard, then he gave Molly a swift, quizzicalglance, remembering probably that he had confided to her and her alonethat he was the author of the words of a comic opera.
Having cleared the table, Molly now returned with the coffee. The cupsjaggled as she handed them. She was very weary, and her arms ached.When she had reached Professor Edwin Green, Richard Blount, with hisnervous, quick manner, suddenly started from his chair and exclaimed:
"Now, I know whom you remind me of--Ellen Terry at sixteen."
Nobody but Molly realized for a moment that he was talking to her, andshe was so startled that her wrist gave a twist and over went the trayand three full coffee cups straight on to the knees of the augustProfessor of English Literature.
There was a great deal of noise, Molly remembered. She herself was sohorrified and stunned that she stood immovable, clutching the traywildly, as a drowning person clings to a life preserver. She heardJudith cry:
"How stupid! How could you have been so unpardonably awkward!"
At the same moment Mary Stewart said: "It was entirely your fault, Mr.Blount. You frightened the poor child with your wild behavior."
And Professor Green said:
"Don't scold, Judith. I'm to blame. I joggled the tray with my elbow.There's no harm done, at any rate. These gray trousers will be muchimproved by being dyed _cafe au lait_."
Then Richard Blount rose from the table and marched straight over towhere Molly was standing transfixed, still miserably holding to thetray.
"Miss Brown," he said humbly, "I want to apologize. All this must havebeen very trying for you, and you have behaved beautifully. I hope youwill forgive me. My only excuse is that I am always forgetting my littlesister and her friends are not still children. Will you forgive me?"
He looked so manly and good-natured standing there before her with hishand held out, that Molly felt what slight indignation there was in herheart melting away at once. She put her hand in his.
"There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Blount," she said, and the young manwho was a musician pricked up his ears when he heard that soft, musicalvoice.
"And I've robbed you of your ham," he continued.
"It was a pleasure to know you enjoyed it," she said.
Presently Molly began clearing the table. Richard sat down at the piano.It was evident that he never wandered far from his beloved instrument,and the girls gathered around him while he ran over the first act of hisnew opera.
Professor Edwin Green said good night and took himself and hiscoffee-soaked trousers home to his rooms.
"You can follow later, Dickie," he called.
As he passed Molly, standing by the door, he smiled at her again, andMolly smiled back, though she was quite ready to cry.
"The ham was delicious," he said. "Thank you very much."
That night, when Molly had wearily climbed the stairs to her room andflung herself on her couch, Nance, writing at her desk, called over:
"Well, how was the beefsteak?"
"I didn't get any," said Molly. "Even if there had been any left, I wastoo tired to eat anything. I'm afraid I wasn't born to be anybody'scook, Nance, or waitress, either."
And Molly turned her face to the wall and wept silently.
Lest we forget, we will say now that two days after this episode of thecoffee cups, there came, by express for Miss Molly Brown, a five-poundbox of candy without a card, and the girls at Queen's Cottage feastedright royally for almost two evenings.