Molly Brown's Orchard Home Part 22

P. S.--My wife, using a wife's prerogative, has read this over my shoulder and declares that I may be a teacher of English, but as a writer of it I am a failure. She says she can count about a dozen "wives" in this little letter, which is very bad writing. But can you blame me? E. G.

From Caroline Jackson to Mrs. Brown.

Dear Miss Milly:

I takes my pen in hand tow enform you that most of us is enjawen pore health and hopes it finds you the same. This letter is writ for Aunt Mary Morton although the paper and awnvelop is mine, the same what Miss Molly sent me for Christmus come two yers next time.

Aunt Mary wisht me tow say that she is rejicing that her Molly Baby done catch sech a fine man as her teacher pears tow be and she is praying that she will be spared tow greet them both on this side of the ribber.

We have done cleaned up Chatswuth tel you kin see yore face in mos any place you is enclined tow look. Lewis has white washed evything tel it minds me of icecreamcandyandpopcorn. Lewis has also done put in and tended the garden same as ifn you wus here. The bungleboo in the awchard is all finished and vines and flowrs growin on it same as ef it done been there fer yers.

Aunt Mary's grand darter Kizzie lows she is goin tow cook fer Miss Molly. All I kin say is Gawd hep litle Miss Molly, cause that there Kizzie is sho slow tow move and proudified (this las from me and not Aunt Mary).

Miss Sarah Clay is done had twelve cooks sence Christmus and I cyarnt count as high as the house girls run up tow. Miss Sarah is lookin right peaked and not near so buxo as formally. All of us ladies and gentlemen of African scent is rejicing that you will soon go down into the deep waters and return again once more to Kaintucky. No more at present. Plese excuse blots and a bad pen.

Lewis wushes me tow add that he done furnished the stamp fer this here pistle.

Aunt Mary lows she aint long fer this here world but I knows she is still got the strenth tow make other colord folks work.

With umblest respecks,

CAROLINE JACKSON.

From Miss Julia Kean to Mrs. Edwin Green.

Molly Darling:

All day I sing: "What's this dark world to me? Molly's not here."

When the wedding breakfast was over and you and your Edwin were really gone, we all of us collapsed like busted balloons. Polly Perkins was cheerful beside the rest of us. He says he always cries at weddings. I believe he is thinking of Josephine Williams and weeps because he knows she never will marry him. I don't blame Jo, but I do feel sorry for Polly.

Your Mother and I are plunged into getting the Bents' studio in order for them. We are determined that they shall find it as s.h.i.+ning as they left it. What a place it has been for us and how we have enjoyed it!

The d'Ochtes will soon go back to Normandy. They have asked Kent and me to visit them during the summer. Won't that be grand?

I have seen Frances Andrews several times. I never did see any one improve as she has. I think it is your influence but I know you will say it is the angle at which I am looking at her. I believe Philippe d'Ochte is really becoming very much interested in her. I wonder what Cousin Sally will think. I fancy she will think poor Frances a far cry from her choice for her son, namely: our own Molly. I still think it is a pity we can't keep La Roche Craie in the family, but I see no way to do it.

Pierce Kinsella is painting like mad on a portrait of your mother.

He says he has been crazy to paint her from the moment he laid eyes on her on the steamer. She says she rather likes posing because it means she can sit still and think. We have been in such a whirl that it might be some comfort to sit still, but I fancy I'd get enough of it in a half hour sitting.

Pierce demands only one thing of Mrs. Brown and that is that she thinks about you. He declares her expression is different.

Speaking of parents, my own are leaving Turkey to-day. Why I should keep it to the end of my letter, I don't know. I am wild with delight. It seems years since I saw them and I can hardly wait. I wish they could have got here for the wedding. Bobby always whoops things up so.

Give my best love to that most fortunate man alive; and tell him that matrimony does not mean eternal monopilization. Write to me soon at the American Girls' Club. They say it is fine and homelike there, but it will surely be some comedown after Rue Brea.

Your ever devoted,

JUDY.

Jimmy Lufton to Molly.

Press Club, New York.

My dear Mrs. Green:

Ah me! I have swallowed the bitter pill and now I am gasping for breath. I mean I have actually called you _Mrs. Green_. I did not know I was man enough to do it. One never can tell what he can do until put to the test. Anyhow, I want to congratulate both you and the Professor with all my heart. If I have to call you Mrs.

Anything I believe I'd rather it would be Mrs. Green. Did you ever hear this saying?

"Change the name and not the letter, Change for worse and not for better.

Change the name and colour, too, Change for good and never rue."

I am sure you will "never rue" and will be as happy as you deserve, which is saying a great deal. With kindest regards to your husband (I feel myself to be a giant among men now, actually to have spoken of the Prof. as your husband!) and hoping I shall be allowed the pleasure of seeing you when you pa.s.s through New York on the way to your home in Kentucky,

I am very sincerely your friend,

JIMMY LUFTON.

From Miss Josephine Williams to Mrs. Edwin Green.

Rue Brea, Paris.

My dear Molly Brown Green:

The Bents are good friends of mine, but I must say I'll be sorry to see them back in their studio, for it will mean the departure of your wonderful mother. I truly think she has done real social settlement work in this quarter of Paris. Her influence is felt wherever she goes. For instance, I cite myself as an example. I wear trousers still, but only when I am actually at work, and I find skirts not so bad after all. As for Polly Perkins, he has actually acquired backbone enough to propose to me. I am sure your mother was at the bottom of it.

The winter bids fair to be a hard one for American artists in Paris, so I have decided that it would be wise to economize in rent. Therefore, I have consented to share a studio with Polly.

Your mother is at the bottom of this move, too. Of course we have got to live, and two can live together more cheaply than they can separately. Economy of rent and fuel and light is to be considered, to say nothing of the fact that it is an impossibility to make one cup of tea or coffee. I always have a lot left in the pot and Polly might just as well have it as not. All these reasons to explain why I have said "Yes"!

Mrs. Pace bought her own portrait and has been the means of another order for poor Polly. She has also arranged to have him give some talks at her _pension_ on the new movement in Art. Polly is quite s.p.u.n.ked up and has actually had his hair cut.

The portrait of Mrs. Pace is on the whole rather interesting. I have to confess that the Cubist way of looking at her was the only way to do her justice. I think Polly was rather remarkable to see the possibilities in her.

We miss you more than I can tell you. Rue Brea seemed very lonesome at first and it took us several days to get back in our ruts.

I see a lot of your splendid young brother. I think he has been a good influence for Polly, too. He seemed to take Polly seriously and that always does a fellow good.

Pierce Kinsella is doing a wonderful portrait of your mother. It will be a sure Salon success and I bet anything will get a Mention.

It has some of the qualities of Whistler's Mother. I think Pierce is one of the coming giants.

As you know by experience how difficult it is for foreigners to be married in Paris, I need not tell you of the trouble we are having to get all of my certificates from California. Polly and I can't begin our economies for several weeks yet. I should not be astonished if by that time my hair will be long enough to tuck up.

Another one of your mother's touches--I'm letting it grow. Regards to the man, most blessed on earth.