THE KENTUCKY SPREAD.
"Molly, you look a little worried," observed Nance Oldham, two days before the famous spread was to take place, it having been set for Friday evening.
Molly was seated on her bed, in the midst of a conglomerate ma.s.s of books and clothes, chewing the end of a pencil while she knitted her brows over a list of names.
"Not exactly worried," she replied. "But, you know, Nance, giving a party is exactly like some kind of strong stimulant with me. It goes to my head, and I seem to get intoxicated on invitations. Once I get started to inviting, I can"t seem to stop."
"Molly Brown," put in Nance severely, "I believe you"ve just about invited the whole of Wellington College to come here Friday night. And because you are already such a famous person, everybody has accepted."
"I think I can about remember how many I asked," she replied penitently.
"There are all the girls in the house, of course."
"Frances Andrews?"
Molly nodded.
"And all the girls who were at Miss Stewart"s the other night."
"What, even that girl who makes catty speeches. That black-eyed Blount person?"
"Yes, even so," continued Molly sadly. "I really hadn"t intended to ask her, Nance, but I do love to heap coals of fire on people"s heads, and besides, I just told you, when I get started, I can"t seem to stop. When I was younger, I"ve been known to bring home as many as six strange little girls to dinner at once."
"The next time you give a party," put in Nance, "we"d better make out the list beforehand, and then you must give me your word of honor not to add one name to it."
"I"ll try to," replied Molly with contrition, "but it"s awfully hard to take the pledge when it comes to asking people to meals, even spreads."
The two girls examined the list together, and Molly racked her brains to try and remember any left-outs, as she called them.
"I"m certain that"s all," she said at last. "That makes twenty, doesn"t it? Oh, Nance, I tremble for the old ham and the hickory nut cake. Do you think they"ll go round? Aunty, she"s my G.o.dmother, is sending me another box of beaten biscuits. She has promised to keep me supplied.
You know, I have never eaten cold light bread in my life at breakfast, and I"d just as soon choke down cold potatoes as the soggy bread they give us here. But beaten biscuit and ham and home-made pickles won"t be enough, even with hickory nut cake," she continued doubtfully.
"I have a chafing dish. We can make fudge; then there"s tea, you know.
We can borrow cups and saucers from the others. But we"ll have to do something else for their amus.e.m.e.nt besides feed them. Have you thought of anything?"
"Lillie and Millie," these were two soph.o.m.ores at Queen"s, "have a stunt they have promised to give. It"s to be a surprise. And Jennie Wren has promised to bring her guitar and oblige us with a few selections, but, oh, Nance, except for the eatin", I"m afraid it won"t be near such a fine party as Mary Stewart"s was."
"Eatin"s the main thing, child. Don"t let that worry you," replied Nance consolingly. "I think I have an idea of something which would interest the company, but I"m not going to tell even you what it is."
Nance had a provoking way of keeping choice secrets and then springing them when she was entirely ready, and wild horses could not drag them out of her before that propitious moment.
On Friday evening the girls began to arrive early, for, as has been said, Molly was already an object of interest at Wellington College, and the fame of her beaten biscuits and old ham had spread abroad. Some of the guests, like Mary Stewart, came because they were greatly attracted toward the young freshman; and others, like Judith Blount, felt only an amused curiosity in accepting the invitation. As a general thing, Judith was a very exclusive person, but she felt she could safely show her face where Mary Stewart was.
"This looks pretty fine to me," observed that nice, unaffected young woman herself, shaking hands with Molly and Nance.
"It"s good of you to say so," replied Molly. "Your premises would make two of our"s, I"m thinking."
"But, look at your grand buffet. How clever of you! One of you two children must have a genius for arrangement."
The study tables had been placed at one end of the room close together, their crudities covered with a white cloth borrowed from Mrs. Murphy, and on these were piled the viands in a manner to give the illusion of great profusion and plenty.
"It"s Molly," laughed Nance; "she"s a natural entertainer."
"Not at all," put in Molly. "I come of a family of cooks."
"And did your cook relatives marry butlers?" asked Judith.
Molly stifled a laugh. Somehow Judith couldn"t say things like other girls. There was always a tinge of spite in her speeches.
"Where I come from," she said gravely, "the cooks and butlers are colored people, and the old ones are almost like relatives, they are so loyal and devoted. But there are not many of those left now."
The room was gradually filling, and presently every guest had arrived, except Frances Andrews.
"We won"t wait for her," said Molly to Lillie and Millie, the two inseparable soph.o.m.ores, who now quietly slipped out. Presently, Nance, major domo for the evening, shoved all the guests back onto the divans and into the corners until a circle was formed in the centre of the room. She then hung a placard on the k.n.o.b of the door which read:
MAHOMET, THE c.o.c.k OF THE EAST,
_vs._
CHANTECLER, THE c.o.c.k OF THE WEST.
There was a sound of giggling and scuffling, the door opened and two enormous, man-sized c.o.c.ks entered the room. Both fowls had white bodies made by putting the feet through the sleeves of a nightgown, which was drawn up around the neck and over the arms, the fullness gathered into the back and tied into a rakish tail. A Persian kimono was draped over Mahomet to represent wings and a tightly fitting white cap with a point over the forehead covered his head. His face was powdered to a ghastly pallor with talc.u.m and his mouth had been painted with red finger-nail salve into a cruel red slash across his countenance. Chantecler was of a more engaging countenance. A small red felt bedroom slipper formed his comb and a red silk handkerchief covered his back hair. The two c.o.c.ks crowed and flapped their wings and the fight began, amid much laughter and cheering. Twice Chantecler was almost spurred to death, but it was Mahomet"s lot to die that evening, and presently he expired with a terrible groan, while the c.o.c.k of the West placed his foot on Mahomet"s chest and crowed a mighty crow, for the West had conquered the East.
That was really the great stunt of the evening, and it occupied a good deal of time. Molly began carving the ham, which she had refused to do earlier, because a ham, properly served, should appear first in all its splendid shapely wholeness before being sliced into nothingness.
Therefore she now proceeded to cut off thin portions, which crumbled into bits under the edge of the carving knife borrowed from Mrs. Murphy.
But the young hostess composedly heaped it upon the plates with pickle and biscuit, and it was eaten so quickly that she had scarcely finished the last serving before the plates were back again for a second allowance.
During the hot fudge and hickory nut cake course, the door opened and a Scotch laddie, kilted and belted in the most approved manner entered the room. His knees were bare, he wore a little Scotch cap, a black velvet jacket and a plaidie thrown over one shoulder. But the most perfect part of his get-up was his miniature bagpipe, which he blew on vigorously, and presently he paused and sang a Scotch song.
"Nance!" cried several of the Queen"s Cottage girls, for it was difficult to recognize the quiet young girl from Vermont in this rakish disguise.
In the midst of the uproar there was a loud knock on the door.
"Come in," called Molly, a little frightened, thinking, perhaps, the kindly matron had for once rebelled at the noise they were making.
Slowly the door opened and an old hag stepped into the room. She was really a terrible object, and some of the girls shrieked and fell back as she advanced toward the jolly circle. Her nose was of enormous length, and almost rested on her chin, like a staff, like the nose of "The Last Leaf on the Tree." Also, she had a crooked back and leaned heavily on a stick. On her head was a high pointed witch"s cap. She wore black goggles, and had only two front teeth. The witch produced a pack of cards which she dexterously shuffled with her black gloved hands.
Then she sat down on the floor, beckoning to the girls to come nearer.
"Half-a-minute fortune for each one," she observed in a m.u.f.fled, disguised voice, but it was a very fulsome minute, as Judy remarked afterward, for what little she said was strictly to the point.
To Judith Blount she said:
"English literature is your weak point. Look out for danger ahead."
This seemed simple enough advice, but Judith flushed darkly, and several of the girls exchanged glances. Molly, for some reason, recalled what Judith had said about Professor Edwin Green.
Many of the other girls came in for knocks, but they were very skillful ones, deftly hidden under the guise of advice. To Jennie Wren the witch said: