Molly Brown's College Friends Part 21

Madame Misel came in with the work she had taken home to finish. Never were such neat, wonderful dressings as hers. In the short time she had been at Wellington she had accomplished the work of two women, bringing in great stacks of the accurately-made dressings.

It was difficult for the girls to treat her with the courtesy they knew it was policy to employ. Behind that calm mask they could now detect the lying spy. Her expression was as demure as ever and she spoke with the same hesitation that they felt was a.s.sumed, just as her husband's halting gait was. Why they should have taken up that particular disguise, Molly and her friends were at a loss to know.

Madame Misel was almost a beautiful woman. Animation would have made her quite beautiful, animation and better dressing. Her hair was parted in the middle and brushed as slick as gla.s.s, coiled in a tight k.n.o.b at exactly the wrong angle. She habitually wore an old-fashioned basque of a bygone cut b.u.t.toned up close to the neck with a narrow band of white collar, which but accentuated the severity of her garb. Her shoes were broad and ugly with no heels, her skirt skimpy and badly hung.

Judy studied the countenance of the foreigner as she bent over her work.

The nimble fingers moved very rapidly as she folded the gauze.

"Gee, I'd like to sketch her!" Judy whispered to Molly. "A mixture of Mona Lisa and the Unknown Woman and plain repressed devil!"

She whipped out her sketch book, which was never far from her, and with a few strokes had Madame Misel's pose, then with a skill that was quite wonderful had suggested her features. The model moved uneasily as though conscious of scrutiny, but before she looked up Judy had closed her book and was demurely folding gauze. Madame arose and walked away, standing by the table where Margaret was rolling bandages. Judy again whipped out her book and made a rapid impression of the unstylish figure in its flat shoes and tight basque.

Just then little Mildred and Cho-Cho came screaming from the churchyard where they had been playing happily. Mildred had in her arms the poor little much-petted puppy. Blood was streaming from the creature's leg and he was giving forth pathetic wails.

"A big dog done bitted him all up!" cried Mildred.

"Greatly dog 'ave 'urt little puppee!" said Cho-Cho-San.

"First aid to the injured!" exclaimed Judy, as she took the bleeding canine in her arms. The pile of beautifully made dressings Madame Misel had just brought in was on the corner of the long table. Without a by-your-leave, Judy s.n.a.t.c.hed up one from the top and bound it around the poor gory leg. "There, you poor little precious! You may be part French poodle, anyhow, and surely a wound is a wound."

Madame Misel put out a hand as though to stay her, but before she could say anything Judy had the dressing wrapped around the puppy's little leg.

"Too bad to take one so perfectly made, but I just grabbed the one closest to hand. Now, Mildred, you and Cho-Cho can be Red Cross nurses and little Poilu can be your wounded warrior. Take him out and nurse him carefully. It isn't much of a place and no doubt with good care he will be all well by to-morrow."

"I--think--it--would be--advisable to--apply--iodine to the wound--is it--not so, Madame Brown? I shall be pleased to--go to--my--house--and--procure some," faltered Madame Misel.

"I don't think it is really necessary," insisted Molly. "We shall be going home presently and I can put some on then. You are very kind."

Enemy alien or not, Madame Misel was certainly very thoughtful to want to take the trouble for the pet. Molly, ever ready to see the good in persons, had a feeling that this quiet, pleasant woman could not be shamming. Perhaps Misel was not what he should be, but not this wife, who was so untiring in her labors of mercy.

When they started home, the roly-poly Poilu seemed to have recovered entirely. He did not even limp, so he was spared the ordeal of having the stinging iodine poured on the wounded leg. It was nothing more than a scratch anyhow, Judy declared.

At midnight Edwin returned, letting himself quietly in the front door.

Molly was waiting for him, eaten up with curiosity about what had transpired. He had been closeted with the Secret Service officials, who considered the matter of the gravest importance. Two of the cleverest and most cautious of the detective force were put on the job.

"They were no doubt on the train with me," he said, "but I have no idea what they look like or what disguise they themselves will employ. At least a dozen persons got off the train at Wellington Station and all of them or none of them may have been Sherlock Holmeses."

"I hope your neuralgia is better," laughed Molly.

"Well, the joke of it is, I really did have neuralgia all day, not severe enough to keep me from enjoying a very good luncheon with your brother Kent and Jimmie Lufton at the Press Club, but quite bad enough to keep you from having told a lie."

"Poor dear! I am so sorry for you to have suffered at all, but it is certainly considerate of you to be instrumental in saving my soul. And now, since to-morrow is the wedding day, we had better get all the sleep we can."

CHAPTER XVII

TILL DEATH DOTH US PART

The small home wedding that Nance and Molly had originally planned grew to be quite large. Little by little it seemed impossible to get married without first one person and then the other. Andy had many friends at Exmoor and Wellington; Dr. and Mrs. McLean knew half the country and had a long list to be invited; Nance wanted the whole faculty and some of the girls who were favorites of Molly's; Kent Brown arrived from New York bringing with him Mr. Matsuki, frankly delighted to be included in so honorable an a.s.semblage.

"Surely they can't all of them sleep here," said Edwin to his wife as he put on his wedding garments.

"They can, but they won't," she answered, laughing at his woeful expression. "The house party breaks up after the ceremony. Do I look all right?"

"Beautiful!"

"I mean my dress!"

"But I mean you! I don't know anything about your dress except that it is blue as it should be."

"Can you find your collar b.u.t.tons and is your tie all right?" asked the anxious housewife as she accepted with very good grace the embrace Edwin felt was necessary to his happiness just then.

"Yes! Everything O. K.! I am sorry for the bride because you are so lovely, honey. Nance is a pretty girl but I am afraid n.o.body will see her because of the matron of honor."

"Such a goose! Now I must go look after the flower girls. Katy has them coralled in the nursery where they can't get dirty. They are the sweetest looking creatures you ever saw in your life. Dodo looks like a beautiful cabbage rose himself, his cheeks are so rosy. I wish Mother could see him."

"Why doesn't she come on to the wedding?"

"Sue needs her in Kentucky. The only trouble about Mother is that there is only one of her. I need her more than anything right now. If she were here she would take hold of this wedding breakfast and I would know it would come off right," sighed Molly, who, true to her character, had planned to do enough for two persons. "Thank goodness, Judy is here!"

The ceremony was to be at twelve and then a wedding breakfast served.

This meant Molly was to be very busy. The girls were helping, but at the same time they were more or less fl.u.s.tered trying to get themselves dressed all in one room. They had determined to make this a gay light wedding as to clothes at least. There was a feeling of excitement in every breast, excitement mingled with sadness. Was not this the most momentous day in the life of every true American? War was declared!

Perhaps had they realized just what war meant, those girls could not have donned those gay, bright garments. Would they have had the courage to wish their friend G.o.d-speed so cheerily? I believe they would. They were of the stuff of the mothers of men. On that second of April, 1917, every woman in the United States must have felt somewhat as Molly Brown's college friends felt. It was a feeling of excitement, awe, exhilaration and dread combined.

Nance was gowned in white with a wonderful lace veil Otoyo had brought as her present. It was as filmy as the clouds that rest on Fujiyama, the sacred mountain of Otoyo's country.

"Only suppose she had brought a tea basket like mine! What would that have looked like on your head?" giggled Judy, who was in a strangely hysterical state. She was one girl who very well knew what the war was to mean. Had she not been on the outskirts of war in 1914 when she was stranded in Paris? Had she not seen the soldiers marching off bidding farewell to their nearest and dearest,--sometimes a final farewell? Kent had spent all the time he could in training camps since they had been opened to citizens of the United States, and now he was confident of receiving a commission. Perhaps it would mean that her husband would be in the trenches in a short time. She wanted him to want to go, was proud of him for wanting to,--but oh, the agony of it all!

Almost time for the ceremony now! Molly made her final tour of inspection. Edwin, Kent and Mr. Matsuki were safe in the den where they eagerly discussed politics. Dr. and Mrs. McLean arrived, holding Andy between them as though they might lose him before it was time.

"I meant to help you, Molly, child, but my hea-r-r-t is so joompy I am afraid it will be best for me to compose meself," said the poor mother.

"Don't let Andy know!"

Molly kissed the dear lady and asked Katherine to stay near her.

Katherine's dressing was always a simple matter, as her gowns consisted of shirt-waists and skirts in various materials to suit various occasions. She declared she could dress in the dark and look just as well as though she had had cheval gla.s.ses and a blaze of light.

The other girls were ready and came down to the parlors to help receive the guests. Nance was lovely and looked as fresh and sweet as a white violet as she sat in her room sedately awaiting the hour. A visit to the nursery disclosed the children piously standing with backs to the window and arms held well away from their fluffy skirts, as charming flower girls as one could find.

"I'm so 'appee! I'm so 'appee! I'm Mildred's j.a.panese dollee! She's my kick-up dollee!" sang the little Cho-Cho-San. "All I want is bald spot, and all she wants is stick up hair!"

"Ain't we your little comforts, Muvver?" asked Mildred.

"Indeed you are, my darling! Now when Judy calls, you come running so you can go down the stairs in front of Aunt Nance. Judy will have your wreaths all ready. Where is Katy?"

"She's peeking at the comply."