Molly Brown's Junior Days Part 27

It was difficult to know what to say. Was it not strange for her, a poor little school girl, to be offering money to a man who had so recently been a millionaire?

"Won't you take this money?" she began again, resolutely. "I don't think anyone will recognize you at the inn. It's just a little country place and you will be quite comfortable there until I find Professor Green. I may get word to him to-night, or to-morrow at any rate."

Mr. Blount eyed the money as a hungry dog eyes a bone. Evidently hunger and fatigue had got the better of his pride. He took the bill and touched it lovingly. Then he put it in his pocket.

"You're a nice girl," he said. "I thank you."

"Would you like to see George Green?" asked Molly timidly.

"No, no, no!" he answered fiercely. "Not that young fool. I don't suppose Judith is here?" he added presently in a tremulous voice.

"No, sir. She's in New York for the holidays."

They shook hands and separated. Mr. Blount took the path down the other side of the lake across the links to the village and Molly followed the path on the college side. As she cut through the pine woods she heard a shout.

"Molly Brown, where have you been? We have had a search for you!" cried Judy, rus.h.i.+ng up, followed by the three boys.

"I reckon I've been a good deal like the pig who thought he was going to Cork when he was really going to Dublin," laughed Molly. "If I hadn't asked the way, I suppose I'd have been almost to Exmoor by this time.

I am a poor person to find my way about. My brother used to tell me to take the direction opposite to the one my instincts told me to take and then I'd be going right."

"In other words, first make sure you're right and then take the other way," said Lawrence Upton, laughing.

"You'd make a good explorer, Miss Molly," remarked Andy McLean. "You might discover the South Pole and think all the time it was the North Pole."

"That would be of great benefit to humanity," answered Molly, "but you may be sure I'd stop and ask a policeman before I reached the equator."

"It's your proper punishment for cutting church this morning," here put in George Green. "I don't know whether it was because it was a good excuse to go sleighing, but a lot of people were at the ten service.

Even old Edwin came in the trail of Alice Fern."

"What a pretty name!" said Molly. "It sounds so woodsy."

"She's a cousin," George went on, "and a winner, too. They've got a jim-dandy place ten miles the other side of Wellington, Fern Grove. We spent last New Year's with them and had a cracker-jack time."

"George Theodore Green!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Judy, "I never heard so much slang.

I wonder you are allowed inside Exmoor."

"Oh, I cut it out there. I only use it when it's safe."

"I regard that as a slight on present company," broke in Andy. "I think you'll just have to take a little dose of punishment for that, Dodo. Get busy, Larrie."

There was a wild scramble in the snow, and finally Dodo, who had developed into a big, strapping fellow, stronger than either of his friends, intrenched himself behind a tree and began throwing s...o...b..a.l.l.s with the unerring aim of the best pitcher on the Exmoor team. Molly hastened on to the Quadrangle, while Judy with true sportsman taste waited to see the fun.

Molly went straight to the telephone booths in the bas.e.m.e.nt corridor. By good fortune, the haughty being who presided at the switchboard was hovering about waiting for a long distance call from a "certain party"

in New York.

That she alone in all the world was concerned in this call and that she wished to have this corner of the globe entirely to herself for the full enjoyment of it were very evident facts when Molly asked for "Fern-16-Wellington."

"I'm not working to-day," announced the operator shortly, arranging her huge Psyche knot at the mirror beside her desk.

Molly looked into the girl's implacable face. No feminine appeal would melt that heart of stone, but perhaps the magic name of man might fix her.

"Would you do it to oblige Professor Green? I have an important message for him."

"I guess that's different," announced the owner of the Psyche knot, with a high nasal accent. "Why didn't you say so at first? I guess Professor Green is about the nicest gent'man around here."

Sitting down at the switchboard, she slipped on the headpiece with a professional flourish. Then, with a hand-quicker-than-the-eye movement, she pushed several organ stops up and down, stuck the end of a green tube into a hole and remarked in a high pitched voice that had great projective powers:

"Wellington Exchange? h.e.l.lo! Yes, I know it's Christmas. On hand for a long distance, are you? Oh, you-u-u. Well, say, listen.

To oblige a certain party--a very attractive gent'man--call up 'Fern-16-Wellington.'"

Then there was a detached monologue about a certain party in you know where--same gent'man that was down Thanksgiving time. Suddenly, with professional alertness, the telephone girl stopped short.

"Fern-16-Wellington? Here's your party. Booth 3," she added to Molly, in a voice so radically different that Molly had a confused feeling that the young person who operated the Wellington switchboard might be a creature of two personalities. She retired timidly to the booth.

"Is this the residence of Miss Alice Fern?" she asked.

"It is," came the voice of a woman from the other end.

"I would like to speak to Professor Edwin Green."

"He's very much engaged just now. Is it important?"

"I think it is," hesitated Molly.

"What name?"

"Now what earthly difference does it make to her what my name is?" Molly reflected with some irritation. "Would you please tell him it's a message from the University?"

"I'll tell him nothing until you tell me your name."

Could this be Miss Alice Fern? Molly was fairly certain it was. Perhaps she also had two personalities.

"It doesn't do any good to tell my name. I have nothing to do with the message. I'm only delivering it for someone else. But if you want to know, it's 'Brown.'"

"Mrs. or Miss Brown?"

Suddenly Molly heard the Professor's voice quite close to the telephone saying:

"Alice, is that someone for me?"

"Yes, an individual of the illuminating name of Brown wishes to speak to you. I don't see why they can't leave you alone for one day in the year."

Molly smiled. Why was it that down deep in the unexplored caverns of her soul there lurked an infinitesimally tiny feeling of relief that Miss Alice Fern was plainly a vixen?

"How do you do, Professor Green? This is Molly Brown."

"How do you do? Is anything the matter?" answered the Professor in rather an anxious tone.

"I wanted to tell you that Mr. Blount is here. Old Mr. Blount."