“She knows how to sit still, and waits until she has something to say before she says anything,” thought the analytical Nance. “I believe I am going to like Molly’s ‘lame duck’ this time; and, goodness me, how beautiful she is!”
Melissa was glad to get her tea, having been in a day coach all night with nothing but a cold lunch to keep body and soul together until she got to Wellington. Nance noticed that she knew how to hold her cup properly and ate like a lady; her English, too, was good as a rule, with occasional lapses into the mountain vernacular. The girls were curious about her, but did not like to question her, and she said nothing about herself.
Tea over, they went to call on the president, leaving Nance to go on with her “feminine touches,” as Judy used to call her arrangements.
Miss Walker was very glad to see Molly, kissing her fondly and calling her “Molly.” “It is good, indeed, to have you back. Every Wellington girl who comes back for the postgraduate course gives me a compliment better than a gift of jewels. And this is Miss Melissa Hathaway? I have been expecting you, and to think that you should have fallen to the care of Molly Brown on your very first day at college! You are to be congratulated, Miss Hathaway. Molly Brown’s friendship keeps one from all harm, like the kiss of a good fairy on one’s brow. Molly, if you will excuse me, I shall take Miss Hathaway into my office first and have a talk with her and shall see you later.”
Molly was blushing with pleasure over the praise from Prexy, and was glad to sit in the quiet room awaiting her turn.
Melissa was closeted for some time with the president, and in the meantime the waiting-room began to fill with students, some of them newcomers tremblingly awaiting the ordeal of an interview with the august head of Wellington; others, like Molly, looking forward with pleasure to a chat with an old friend. Melissa came back alone with a message for Molly to come in to Miss Walker, and told her that she was to wait, as the president wished Molly to show the stranger her room.
“Molly Brown, how did you happen to be the one to look after this girl? It seems providential.”
“Well, Mr. Murphy attributes it to himself, and declares it is the direct answer to his prayers,” laughed Molly, and told Miss Walker of the little calf trunk and the old baggage master’s sentimentality about it.
“I am going to read you part of a letter concerning Melissa Hathaway, and that will explain her and her being at Wellington better than any words of mine. This letter is from an old graduate, a splendid woman who has for years been doing a kind of social settlement work in the mountains of Virginia and Kentucky.
“‘I am sending you the first ripe fruit from the orchard that I planted at least ten years ago in this mountain soil. You must not think it is a century plant I am tending. I gather flowers every day that fully repay me for my labor here, but, alas, flowers do not always come to fruit. Melissa Hathaway is without doubt one of the most remarkable young women I have ever known, and has repaid me for the infinite pains I have taken with her, and will repay every one by being a success. She comes from surroundings that the people of cities could hardly dream of, in spite of the slums that are, of course, worse because of their crowded condition and lack of air. But in these mountain cabins you find a desolation and ignorance that is appalling, but at the same time a rectitude and intelligence that astonish you; and unbounded hospitality.