But nothing convinced Henrietta Pace. She only knew that she was not to have the very pleasant boarders, so well connected, too, and so easy to please and courteous. Of course she blamed it on that very pert Miss Kean, who had defied her from the beginning; but what could one expect from a girl brought up in no place in particular, not even born in a fixed spot, (Julia Kean, you remember, was born at sea,) with a father who openly boasted of having a gizzard? And Mrs. Pace would give what Judy called, "one of her black satin sighs."
"Why should she dress in black satin all the time?" exclaimed Judy, after a particularly dismal dinner where Mrs. Pace had spent the time telling of all the misguided persons who had left her protecting wing and of the direful things that had befallen them. "The idea of any one as huge as she is wearing tight black satin! Why, I noticed two great square high-lights on her, measuring six inches across, one on her arm and one on her capacious bosom. In the latter, the whole dinner table was reflected. She should wear soft, loose things where no accenting high-lights could find a foothold."
"Oh, Judy, you are too delicious!" laughed Molly. "Who but you would notice the high-lights on your landlady's bosom, and then even the reflections in those high-lights? But weren't you amused at the 'unmerciful disaster that followed fast and followed faster' all the boarders that had not stayed at Maison Pace?
"One girl married a worthless art student and had to paint bathtubs for a living; one girl got lead poisoning in a studio where she was studying; one lady got her pocket picked on the Bois de Boulogne and one poor gentleman was lost at sea. Two of these calamities certainly could not have happened in this place. I'd defy anyone to get married here, even to a worthless art student, nor could one very well get lost at sea. I am glad we are to leave to-morrow and also glad that Elise O'Brien will not come until we are installed in the Rue Brea."
Molly had seen Frances Andrews several times since the recognition at the Opera, and had found her very agreeable but still peculiar, passionate and moody. She was extravagant in her affection for Molly and seemed eager to please Mrs. Brown. On the one occasion in which she had seen Judy when she called at the Maison Pace, she had been embarrassed and ill at ease with her and a little wistful, Molly thought.
She whispered to Molly on leaving: "I know Miss Kean despises me, but don't let her influence you. I am not as good as you think I am, but I am not half so bad as Miss Kean thinks I am. I got in wrong at Wellington and never could live down that scrape. Breaking the eleventh commandment is a terrible mistake: getting found out, I mean. I really did not do anything nearly so bad as lots of the other girls: Judith Blount, for instance. She did mean things and I never did. I was my own worst enemy and harmed no one else."
"Well, Judith Blount has 'come through,' as the darkeys say when they get religion, wonderfully well. It was the best thing that ever happened for her to become poor; and then she had such a wise little friend, Madeleine Pettit, who showed her how to work. You know I am your friend, Frances, and always did like you. You must not think Judy Kean does not, too. I am sure she has no reason to dislike you," and Molly bade her good-by with promises to come to call on her and her grandmother very soon.
But Frances was not mistaken about Judy's feelings for her. That young woman had a deep-seated dislike to the handsome, dashing Frances. "I don't trust her, Molly. She certainly did a dishonorable thing at college, and her eyes, although they are so beautiful, are a little shifty. I don't want to like her and I don't mean to, so there!"
The Browns' move from Boulevard St. Michael amounted almost to a flitting in the eyes of Mrs. Pace, as they departed while she was at market and had to leave their good-bye with Alphonsine for their respected landlady. The Marquise d'Ochtè sent her limousine to convey them to their new quarters, and knowing the habits of the redoubtable Henny, she deliberately had the chauffeur call very early for her cousins so that they could avoid the stormy good-bye she knew they would have to undergo.
They found the apartment shining and beautiful, everything swept and garnished, a fire burning in the big stove in the studio and a wonderful green bowl of chrysanthemums on the table. A little note was stuck in the flowers, bidding them welcome from the Bents and wishing them joy in the apartment where they had been so happy themselves.