Molly Browns Orchard Home | Page 2

absurd.
She does not want us to go to Paris and is furious at the idea of Kent's
"stopping work," as she calls it. She has got out this injunction just to
keep us from going, I believe, as she is intelligent enough to know
there is no use in trying to get ahead of a mighty Trust, and they will
have to win in the end; but she had an idea that we would not go unless
we had plenty of money to have a good time on. She little knows our
Mother, in spite of being her sister.
Mother says she believes it will be more fun and easier to economize in
Paris than in Kentucky; and she is as gay as a lark over the prospect.
Kent may be able to come later and take that much talked of and longed
for course in Architecture at the Beaux Arts. In the meantime, he is
very busy and, as he says, "making good with his boss." Mother refuses
to discuss Aunt Clay's behavior and actually goes to see her as though
nothing had happened; but I know she has had many a sleepless night,
brooding over her sister's unsisterly act.
I am longing to see you, dearest Nance, and wish you could manage to
meet me in New York before we sail, but if you can't, be sure to have a
letter on the steamer for me. We are going on a slow boat to Antwerp.
We think the long sea trip will be good for Mother, who is tired out
with all this worry and the work of getting Chatsworth in condition to
leave; and besides, the slow boats are much cheaper. Laurens is the
name of our boat, sailing from Hoboken. I will write you from Paris,
where Julia Kean is already installed and hard at work on her beloved
art.

I am afraid you will think I am horrid about Aunt Clay. Mother says
she is the only person she ever knew me to feel bitter about. So she is,
but then she is the only person who was ever mean to my beloved
Mother. Maybe when my hair turns gray I can be as much of a lady as
Mother is, but so far I am too red-headed to be a perfect lady.
I am going to miss you, Nance, more than I can tell you. We have been
roommates for five years at college, and never once did we have a
shadow of a disagreement. Of course we occasionally got in a kind of
penumbra. Once I remember when I was touchy because you called
Professor Edwin Green an oldish person, but my pettishness only lasted
"like a cloud's flying shadow," and that ought not to count.
I think you are splendid to make such a happy home for your father and
I know you are a wonderful housekeeper. Please give him my kindest
regards. Kent drove Mother and me into Louisville to hear your mother
speak at the Equal Suffrage Convention. She was simply overpowering
in her arguments, and converted Kent in five minutes. I wish Aunt Clay,
who is such an ardent Anti, had heard her. We were so sorry Mrs.
Oldham could not come out to Chatsworth to visit us, but she did not
have the time. I must stop. I have written two stamps' worth already.
Ever your devoted friend and roommate in heart,
MOLLY BROWN.
* * * * *
To Miss Molly Brown, Chatsworth, Kentucky,
From Miss Julia Kean, Paris, France.
71 Boulevard St. Michel, Paris.
Molly dear:
The news that you and your mother are to sail in a few weeks threw me
into the seventh heaven of happiness,--I am already on the seventh

floor of a pension with not much more of an elevator than the tower of
Babel had. Mamma and Papa brought me here and installed me and
then shot off to Turkey, Papa like a comet and Mamma like the tail of
one, to finish up the bridge that has kept them so busy for the last year.
This pension is kept by an American lady and is full of Americans. It is
rather fun to be here for a while, but I am longing for the time to come
when you will be with me and we can go apartment hunting, that is, if
your mother still thinks it will be wiser for us to keep house and not try
to board. Of course you will come here first and we can take our time
about getting settled for the winter. Mrs. Pace, the landlady, (but you
had better not call her that to her face, as she is very much the grande
dame, with so much blue blood she finds it difficult