Molly Brown's Junior Days Part 15

"He won't tell, even if he has seen," Nance rea.s.sured her. "Don't mind, Molly, dear. Come along. I'm not afraid."

"It's not that! It's not that!" sobbed Molly. But then, of course, Nance wouldn't understand what it really was, because she hardly understood it herself. He believed, of course, that she had gone rowing with some Exmoor boys after ten o'clock. He had heard the story of the slipper.

Everybody had heard it. It was the talk of college. For a moment Molly felt a wave of resentment against Judy. Then her anger shifted to Professor Green.

"At least he might have given us a chance to explain," she exclaimed, as she followed Nance along the lake path back to the campus.

As soon as they entered the room, a little while later, they saw by Otoyo's face that something had happened.

"What is it?" they demanded uneasily.

"Oh," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Otoyo, raising both hands with an eloquent gesture, "it was that terrible Mees Heegins. You had but scarcely departing gone when there came to the door a rap-rap-rap--so. I thought it was you returning, and when I open, she push her way in, so."

Otoyo gave an imitation of Minerva forcing her way into the sitting room.

"She say: 'I wish to see Mees Kean on a particular business.' I say: 'Mees Kean has a sickness to her head.' She say: 'Move away, little yellow peril. Don't interfere with me. I wish to inquire after her health.' Then she make great endeavors to remove me from the door."

"And what did you do, Otoyo?" they asked anxiously.

Otoyo's face took on an expression half humorous and half deprecating.

"It will not make you angry with little j.a.panese girl?"

"No, of course not, child."

"I employ jiu jitsu."

The girls both laughed, and Otoyo, relieved, joined in the merriment.

"She receive no bruises, but she receive a shock, because it arrive so suddenlee, you see? So she quietlee walk away and say no more."

"You adorable little j.a.panese girl," cried Molly, embracing her.

Nance opened the door and peeped into Judy's room.

She was sleeping quietly, the slipper clasped in both hands.

CHAPTER X.

A VISIT OF STATE.

Judy still slept the sleep of the exhausted. Her tired forces craved a long rest after the storm that had lashed and beaten them. The girls crept about the room softly and spoke in low voices, and when they went down to the early dinner locked the door and took the key with them.

Later, fearing callers, again they hung out a Busy sign and settled themselves comfortably for a peaceful afternoon. Nance, armed with a dictionary and notebook, was translating "Les Miserables," a penitential task she had set for herself for two hours every Sunday.

Molly was also engaged in a penitential task. She was endeavoring to compose a story on simple and natural lines. It was very difficult. Her mind at this moment seemed to be an avenue for bands of roving and irrelevant thoughts and refused to concentrate on the work at hand. She made several beginnings, as: "One bl.u.s.tering, windy day in March a lonely little figure----" With a contemptuous stroke of her pencil, she drew a line through the words and wrote underneath: "It was a calm, beautiful morning in May----"

Twirling her pencil, she paused to consider this statement.

"No, no, that won't do," she thought. "It's entirely too commonplace."

She glanced absently over at the book Nance was reading. "Victor Hugo would probably have put it this way: 'It was the fifteenth of May, 17--.

A young girl was hurrying along the Rue----. She paused at the house, No. 11.' Oh, dear," pondered Molly, "one has to tell something very important to write in that way. It's like sending a telegram. Just as much as possible expressed in the fewest possible words. Can the professor mean that? Would he mind if I asked him and then at the same time, perhaps----" Again the wandering thoughts broke off. "It's rather hard he should have misunderstood about this morning. Is there no way I can explain without involving Judy? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! How complicated life is, and what a complicated nature is Judy's."

There were two quick raps on the door. Molly and Nance exchanged frightened glances. It was not the masonic tap of their friends, and no one else would have knocked on a door which advertised a Busy sign.

There was, in fact, a note of authority in the double rap. Some instinct prevented Nance from calling out "Come in," a matter later for self-congratulation. She rose and opened the door and President Walker entered. If Miss Walker had ever paid a visit to a student before, the girls had not heard of it. It was, so far as they knew, an entirely unprecedented happening and quite sufficient to make innocent people look guilty and set hearts to pumping blood at double-quick time.

"I saw your Busy sign," said Miss Walker, glancing from one startled face to the other, "but I shall not keep you long. What a pretty room,"

she added, looking about her approvingly.

"Thank heavens, it's straight," thought Nance, groaning mentally.

"Won't you sit down, Miss Walker?" asked Molly, pushing forward one of the easy chairs.

The President sat down. There was a plate of "cloudbursts" on the table.

Would it be disrespectful to offer the President some of this delectable candy? Nance considered it would be, decidedly so. But Molly, a slave to the laws of hospitality, took what might be called a leap in the dark and silently held the plate in front of the President. If this turned out to be a visit of state it was rather a risky thing to do. But Miss Walker helped herself to one piece and then demanded another.

"Delicious," she said. "Did you make it, Miss Brown?"

"Yes, Miss Walker."

It had been purely a stroke of luck with Molly, who had no way to know that Miss Walker had a sweet tooth.

"I must have that recipe. What makes it so light?"

"The whites of eggs beaten very stiff, and the rest of it is just melted brown sugar. It's very easy," added Molly, forming a resolution to make the President a plate of "cloudbursts" without loss of time.

"Who is the third girl who shares this apartment with you?" asked Miss Walker, unexpectedly coming back to business.

"Julia Kean."

"And where is she to-day?"

Nance hesitated.

"She is sick in bed to-day, Miss Walker."

"Ahem! Cold, I suppose?"

"It's more excitement than anything else," put in Molly. "The junior play----"

"Oh, yes. She was 'Viola,' of course," said the President.

"You see she had a bad attack of stage fright," continued Molly, "and Judy is so excitable and sensitive. She exaggerated what happened and it made her ill."

"And what did happen? She forgot her lines, as I recall. But that often occurs. Even professionals have been known to forget their parts. Ellen Terry is quite notorious for her bad memory, but she is a great actress, nevertheless."

The girls were silent. They wondered what in the world Miss Walker was driving at.