CHAPTER V.--DODO'S SURPRISE PARTY.

The old red brick house, where Professor Green had his bachelor quarters, had been put in good order for his sister's regime, and with the furniture that had been in storage for many years since the death of their parents was made most attractive. It was designed for parties, seemingly, as the whole lower floor could be turned practically into one room. It had begun to snow, which made the glowing fire in the big hall even more cheerful by contrast.

"Whew! aren't we festive?" exclaimed Dodo, bursting in at the front door with Lawrence Upton, whom he had picked up at Exmoor. "Looks to me like a ball, with all of this holly and the bare floors ready for dancing. Andy and his little Jap are coming around this evening to see you, Gracey, and I wish we could get some girls to have a bit of a dance. I have been learning to dance along with my other arduous tasks at the University, and I'd like to trip the light fantastic toe with some real flesh and blood. I have had nothing but a rocking chair to practice with for ever so long. I've got a little broken sofa that is great to 'turkey trot' with."

"How about the old tune, 'Waltzing 'Round with Sophy, Sophy Just Seventeen,' for that dance of yours?" laughed his older brother. "I declare, Dodo, we ought to do better than that for you at a girls' college, even in holiday time. Let's wait and see if young Andy comes, and then with his help maybe we can scare up a girl or so."

Miss Grace thanked Edwin with an appreciative pat for keeping up the game of surprise party. Just then Richard Blount came blowing in from New York, and they all went in to supper, where the greedy Edwin permitted them to have a try at his ham.

"What a girl that Miss Brown is!" declared Dicky. "She seems to me to be the most attractive blonde I have ever seen." Richard, being very fair, of course, had a leaning toward brunettes. "We were talking about her the other evening at the Stewarts', and we agreed that when all was told she was about the best bred person we knew."

Miss Fern, to whom praise of Molly seemed to be bitterness and gall, gave a sniff of her aristocratic nose and remarked: "There must have been some question of Miss Brown's breeding for you to have been discussing it. I have always thought breeding was something taken for granted."

"So it should be," said Professor Green, laconically.

"Do you know, it is a strange thing to me, but the only two persons in the world that I know of who don't like Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky are our two cousins on different sides of the house--Judith Blount and you, Cousin Alice."

This from Dodo, enfant terrible. Edwin turned the color of his old ham and looked sternly at Dodo, who was entirely unconscious of having said anything amiss. Miss Grace and Lawrence Upton giggled shamefully, while Richard Blount hastened to say, "I think you are mistaken about Judith. On the contrary, she now speaks very highly of Miss Brown, and looks upon her as a very good friend."

"As for me," said Alice, "I have never given Miss Brown a thought one way or the other. I do not know her well enough to dislike her. She impresses me as being rather pushing."

At this Miss Grace made a sign for them to rise, as she was anxious to get the dining-room in readiness for the entertainment.

"All of you boys had better put on your dress suits if there is a chance of scaring up some dancers," she tactfully suggested, so there was a general rush for their rooms, and she was left in peace to get everything ready for the surprise party.

The guests, as had been agreed upon, arrived together. The old house was suddenly filled with dancers enough to satisfy the eager Dodo, and dear Mrs. McLean, ready to play dance music until they dropped. Dodo was astonished enough to delight his sister, and the fun began.

Dr. McLean and Mr. Oldham found much to talk about, so Nance felt that her father was going to have a pleasant evening, and with a glad sigh gave herself up to having a good time with the rest. Young Andy was not long in attaching himself to her side, and they picked up conversation where they had dropped it the year before and seemed to find each other as agreeable as ever.

All the girls looked lovely, as girls should when they have an evening of fun ahead of them and plenty of partners to make things lively. Several more young men came over from Exmoor, in response to a secret invitation sent by Miss Grace through young Andy, so, as Judy put it, "There were beaux to burn."

Judy was going in very much for the picturesque in dress, as is the usual thing with art students, so she was very aesthetically attired in a clinging green Liberty silk. Molly wore her bridesmaid blue organdy, which was very becoming. Nance,--who always had the proper thing to wear on every occasion without having to scrape around and take stitches and let down hems, and find a petticoat to match, and for that reason had time to do those necessary things for the other girls,--wore a pretty little evening gown of white chiffon, and she looked so pretty herself that Dr. McLean whispered to his wife that he took it all back about young Andy's having picked out a plain lassie. Little Otoyo had on the handsomest dress of the evening, a rose pink silk embroidered in cherry blossoms. The clever child had bought the dress in New York at a swell shop and taken it to Japan with her, and there had the wonderful embroidery put on it. Melissa was a revelation to herself and her friends. The black Seco silk fitted her so well that Nance was really elated over her success as a mantuamaker. Melissa had never gone decollete in her life, and at first the girls could hardly persuade her to wear the low-necked dress; but when she saw Molly she was content.

"Whatever Molly does is always right, and if she wears low neck then I will, too," said the artless girl.

Her hair was rolled at the sides and done in a low knot on her neck. As she came into the parlor Richard Blount, who was going over some music at the piano, did not see her at first. Looking up to speak to Edwin about a song he was to sing, he was struck dumb by her beauty. Clutching Edwin he managed to gasp out, "Great Caesar! who is she?"

"She is not Medusa, my dear Dick. Don't stand as though you had turned to stone. It is Miss Hathaway, a friend of Miss Brown's, and a very interesting and original young woman, also from Kentucky, but from the mountains. I will introduce you with pleasure."

Edwin Green did introduce him, and if Richard Blount took his eyes from Melissa once during the evening he did it when no one was looking.

Mr. Seshu, young Andy's friend, proved to be a charming, educated young man, who understood English perfectly and spoke with only an occasional blunder. He made himself very agreeable to Molly, who was eager to talk with him, hoping to find out if he were worthy of their little Otoyo. The girls were almost certain that he had come to Wellington with the idea of viewing Otoyo and passing on her as a possible wife. Otoyo had let drop two or three remarks that made them feel that this was the case. She was very much excited, and her little hands were like ice when Molly took them in hers to tell her how sweet she looked and how beautiful and becoming her dress was. It was a trying ordeal for any girl, and Molly wondered that the little thing could go through with it, but honorable father had thus decreed it and it must be borne.

"I fancy it is better than having the marriage broker putting his finger in, which is what would have happened if the Sens and Seshus had not 'hugged the Christian faith' and come to America," whispered Molly to Nance as they took off their wraps.

"I'd see myself being pranced out like a colt, honorable father or not," said Nance. "I fancy he is very nice, however, or Andy would not be so chummy with him."

Molly was amused at the farce of telling Mr. Seshu that one of his country women was a student at Wellington, and she hoped to have the pleasure of introducing them. He received the information with a polite bow, and no more expression than a stone image, but with volubly expressed thanks and eagerness for the introduction.

"Our little Otoyo is very precious to us," said Molly, "and we are very proud of her progress in her studies. She takes a fine place with her class, and will graduate this year with flying colors. She writes perfect English, but there are times in conversation when adverbs are too many for her. She is excited to-night over coming to a dance, having but recently added dancing to her many accomplishments, and her adverbs may get the better of her." Molly was determined that the seeker for a wife should not take the poor little thing's excitement to himself.

Mr. Seshu seemed more anxious to talk about Otoyo than to meet her.

"And so you are trying to pump me about my little friend, are you, you wily young Jap? Well, you have come to the right corner. I'll tell you all I can, and you shall hear such good things of Otoyo that you will think I am a veritable marriage broker," said Molly to herself.

"Is Mees Sen of kindly heart and temper good, you say?"

"She has the kindest heart in the world and a good temper, but she is well able to stand up for herself when it is necessary."

"He shall not think he is getting nothing but a good family horse, but I am going to try to let him understand that our little Otoyo has a high spirit and is fit for something besides the plow," added Molly to herself.

After much talk, in which Molly felt that she had been most diplomatic, Mr. Seshu was finally presented to Miss Sen. Poor little Otoyo was not as embarrassed as she would have been had she not learned to converse with honorable gentlemen quite like American maidens. The practice she had had with young Andy and Professor Green came in very well now, and her anxious friends were delighted to see that she was holding her own with her polished countryman, and that he seemed much interested in her chatter. At the instigation of Molly and Nance, Andy McLean soon came up and claimed Otoyo for a dance. She looked very coquettishly at her Japanese suitor and immediately accepted, and Mr. Seshu was as disconsolate as any other young man would have been to have a pleasant companion snatched from him.

"We'll teach him a thing or two," said our girls. "And just look how well Otoyo is 'step twoing,' as she calls it, with Andy!"

"While the dancers are resting we will have some music," said the gracious hostess. "I am going to ask you, Miss Hathaway, to sing for us."

Melissa looked astonished that she should be chosen, but, with that poise and dignity that years in society cannot give some persons, she agreed to sing what she could if Molly would accompany her on the guitar.

"Sing 'Lord Ronald and Fair Eleanor,'" whispered Molly. "I want Professor Green to hear it."

The two Kentucky girls made a wonderfully charming picture as they took their places to do their part toward entertaining the guests--Molly so fair and slender in her pretty blue dress, with her hair "making sunshine in a shady place," seated with the guitar, while Melissa, tall and stately, with figure more developed, in her clinging black dress stood near her. Judy was so overcome at the picturesque effect that she began to make rapid sketching movements in the air as was her wont.

"Oh, what don't we see when we haven't got a gun! I'd give anything for a piece of charcoal and some paper."

"I don't know all of this song, but I shall sing all I do. I learned it from my grandmother, and she learned it from hers. This is all Granny knows, but she says her grandmother had many more verses," said Melissa as Molly struck the opening chords of the accompaniment.

"So she dressed herself in scarlet red, And she dressed her maid in green, And every town that they went through They took her to be some queen, queen, queen, They took her to be some queen.

"'Lord Ronald, Lord Ronald, is this your bride That seems so plaguey brown? And you might have married as fair skinned a girl As ever the sun shone on, on, on, As ever the sun shone on.'

"The little brown girl, she had a penknife, It was both long and sharp; She stuck it in fair Eleanor's side And it entered at the heart, heart, heart, It entered at the heart.

"Lord Ronald, he took her by her little brown hand And led her across the hall; And with his sword cut off her head, And kicked it against the wall, wall, wall, And kicked it against the wall.

"'Mother, dear mother, come dig my grave; Dig it both wide and deep. By my side fair Eleanor put, And the little brown girl at my feet, feet, feet, And the little brown girl at my feet.'"

* * * * *

As the beautiful girl finished the plaintive air there was absolute stillness for a few seconds. The audience was too deeply moved to speak. Melissa's voice was sweet and full and came with no more effort than the song of the mocking bird heard in her own valleys at dawn. She took high note or low with the same ease that she had stooped and lifted her little hair trunk at Wellington station.

* * * * *

The song in itself was very remarkable, being one of the few original ballads evidently brought to America by an early settler, and handed down from mother to daughter through the centuries. Edwin Green recognized it, and noted the changes from the original from time to time. Richard Blount was the first to find his tongue, although he was the one most deeply moved by the performance.

"My, that was fine!" was all he could say, but he broke the spell of silence, and there was a storm of applause. Melissa bowed and smiled, pleased that she met with their approval, but with no airs or affectation.

"She has the stage manner of a great artist who is above caring for what the gallery thinks, but has sung for Art's sake, and, as an artist, knows her work is good," said Richard to Professor Green. "Miss Hathaway, you will sing again for us, please. I can't remember having such a treat as you have just given us, and I have been to every opera in New York for six years."

The demand was general, so Melissa graciously complied. This time she gave "The Mistletoe Bough."

"The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, And the holly branch shone on the old oak wall; And all within were blithe and gay, Keeping their Christmas holiday. Oh, the mistletoe bough, Oh, the mistletoe bough."

And so on, through the many stanzas of the fine old ballad, telling of the bride who cried, "I'll hide, I'll hide," and then of the search and how they never found the beautiful bride until years had passed away, and then, on opening the old chest in the attic, her bones were discovered and the wedding veil.

When the applause subsided, Miss Grace asked Richard Blount to sing.

"I'll do it, Cousin Grace, but I have never felt more modest about my little accomplishments. Miss Hathaway has taken all the wind out of my sails. I am going to sing a little thing that I clipped out of a newspaper and put to music. 'It is a poor thing, but mine own.' I think it is appropriate for this party, and hope you will agree with me."

"Now, Dicky, you know we love your singing, and because Miss Hathaway has charmed us is no reason why you cannot charm us all over. Caruso can sing, as well as Sembrich," said Miss Grace.

Richard Blount had a good baritone voice, and sang with a great deal of taste; and he played on the piano with real genius. With a few brilliant runs he settled down to the simple, sweet air he had composed for the little bit of fugitive verse, and then began to sing:

"The holly is a soldier bold, Arrayed in tunic green, His slender sword is never sheathed, But always bared and keen. He stands amid the winter snows A sentry in the wood,-- The scarlet berries on his boughs Are drops of frozen blood.

"The mistletoe's a maiden fair, Enchanted by the oak, Who holds her in his hoary arms, And hides her in his cloak. She knows her soldier lover waits Among the leafless trees, And, weeping in the bitter cold, Her tears to jewels freeze.

"But at the holy Christmas-tide, Blessed time of all the year, The evil spirits lose their power, And angels reappear. They meet beside some friendly hearth, While softly falls the snow-- The soldier Holly and his bride, The mystic Mistletoe."

Richard had been delighted by Melissa's performance, and now she returned the compliment by being so carried away by his singing and the song that she forgot all shyness and reserve and openly congratulated him, praising his music with so much real appreciation and fervor that the young man was persuaded to sing again. He sang the beautiful Indian song of Cadman's, "The Moon Hangs Low," and was beginning the opening chords to "The Land of Sky-blue Water," when there came a sharp ringing of the bell, followed by some confusion in the hall as the door was opened and a gust of wind blew in the fast falling snow. Then a man's voice was heard inquiring for Professor Green.