"Well, I fancy we would not have dared to go had we really believed in ghosts. As for drying ourselves by the library fire I think we had much better go off to bed. We might rouse the household. Cousin Sally is not to know of our escapade, as you say she has a dread of this old story getting started up again," said Molly.

The two bade their young host good-night and crept quietly to their room.

"My, don't dry clothes and warm covers feel good!" exclaimed Judy, snuggling down in the lavender-scented linen sheets. "Molly, I was never more frightened in my life than when that figure appeared behind the altar! My not really believing in ghosts did not help me one bit. Did you ever see anything in the way of a mere man quite so excruciatingly handsome as Philippe when he threw back his cowl and stood bareheaded peering into the darkness?"

"Oh, Judy, what a girl you are! How could you take note of all that when you were in a little heap on the floor sobbing out your soul?"

"I peeped through my fingers. People don't sob with their eyes. What a picture he would make!" and Judy began to draw in the air. "Golden hair and beard, with the black peaked hood half off and that expression of looking into the future that he had when he spoke to ask who was there!

'The Young Prophet,' must be the t.i.tle. He seems to have a latent imagination, after all. I believe I have done him an injustice. An awful pity one of us can't marry him! Somehow we ought to keep him in the family. I bet you I know why your Cousin Sally hates to have the ghost talked about! I just know she has made a trip to the chapel in a spirit of adventure and got good and scared."

But Molly was breathing so quietly that Judy realized she was talking to the air, making no more impression than her imaginary brush had made when she painted the wonderful picture of "The Young Prophet."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PRESCRIPTION.

Paris was as pleasant to return to as it had been to leave. The change and rest in the country had put new life in all of the marchioness's guests, and they were ready to go back to their duties with renewed interest and vigor.

They found on their arrival, however, interruptions to their work more potent than plain spring fever:--Professor Edwin Green and Kent Brown had reached Paris the day before, intending to surprise their friends, and had been themselves both surprised and disappointed to find the apartment in Rue Brea closed. Miss Josephine Williams had come to the fore with information and kindly offers of tea and _brioche_. Professor Green was thrown into the depths of despair when he learned that the absent ones were visiting the d'Ochtes in Normandy, and Kent could not conceal his misery when Jo let out that Pierce Kinsella was one of the party.

That young woman, with a feminine instinct that belied her masculine attire, understood the two men, and divining that they were both in love and jealous, one of Philippe and the other of Pierce, exercised the greatest tact and succeeded in sending them off to their hotel in a much better frame of mind. She did a great deal of quiet talking about how boyish Pierce Kinsella was, and what a pet to the whole community, being years younger than any of the girls. As for Philippe she touched lightly on his evident admiration for Elise O'Brien before her marriage and hinted that he seemed equally pleased with Frances Andrews now that Elise was off the carpet.

As the young men walked toward their student hotel on the Boulevarde Mont Parnesse, they agreed that Jo Bill was a pretty nice sort. They had been so impressed by the quality of her tea and _brioche_ and her kindly tact in telling them exactly what they wanted to hear about their lady loves and their feared rivals, that they had forgotten to notice her trousers and her tousled red hair and spoke only of her honest mouth and good teeth, friendly eyes and shapely feet.

Professor Green had been threatened with a nervous breakdown and President Walker had at the eleventh hour been able to procure a subst.i.tute. The wise President understood very well that there was a cure to his nervous breakdown, but that it had to be taken on the other side of the Atlantic; so she was delighted to hasten his departure.

Edwin had telegraphed Kent of his intended sailing, and that young man had joyously made preparations to join him in New York. He had the great pleasure of paying a visit of condolence to his Aunt Sarah Clay, who had at last lost her suit against the Oil Trust. He also had the pleasure of depositing in the safety vault a goodly number of bonds for his beloved mother, enough to insure a comfortable income to her and the certainty that her financial worries were over forever.

"This is what I call an anticlimax," said Edwin to Kent the next morning as they lounged on the Pont Carrousel. "We got ourselves ready for the excitement of surprising the ladies yesterday and nothing came off, and now this hanging around waiting has taken all the life out of me. Miss Williams insisted we could not miss them if we guarded the Pont Carrousel, and of course this would be the natural way for them to come from the Gare du Nord; but things don't seem to be happening in the natural way here, lately."

Kent looked narrowly at his friend. He did look tired and depressed, but the voyage had done him good. He was better than he had been at Wellington when Dr. McLean had given him a thorough going over and, after a consultation with his wise partner (Mrs. McLean), had prescribed an immediate sea trip as the only cure for his malady.

"Oh, buck up, old man, the worst is yet to come!" Kent gave him an affectionate push just as a taxicab came lumbering on the far end of the bridge and he saw a blue scarf floating in the breezes, a blue scarf that could belong to no one but his dear sister Molly. "What did I tell you? There they are now. Now get ready for the anticlimax that you so scorn. I bet it will out-climax the climax!"

Judy was the first to see the young men. "Stop, stop!" she called to the chauffeur.

"Extra charge if I stop, Mademoiselle," warned the man, slowing down his car.

"Oh, these Frenchies!" wailed the excited girl. "They part mother and son for three sous; and--and----" but she did not finish about whom else they would part.

Edwin and Kent crowded in on the front seat with the greedy chauffeur, and the happy crowd was quickly taken to the Rue Brea.

As Professor Green gazed over his shoulder into the sweet eyes of Molly Brown, he knew that the sea trip was just exactly what he needed to restore his failing health and that his old friend Dr. McLean was a wise physician.

Molly, on the back seat with her mother and Judy, felt very happy. Had she not cause to feel so? Was not her beloved brother on the seat in front of her after being parted from them for months and months? Was not her mother's face a picture of maternal joy to be once again near her boy? Did not her dear friend Julia Kean frankly show her delight at Kent's proximity? And last, and Molly tried to make herself think it the least reason, was not her friend Professor Green rattling along in the taxi with them with an expression in his kind eyes as they gazed into hers that made her drop her own, fearing that hers might have the same telltale look to him that his had to her?

Kent overpaid the chauffeur in spite of Judy's protestations and then Professor Green came back and gave him an extra _pourboire_.

"Let us squander our hard-earned wealth if we want to, Miss Judy,"

begged Kent. "When I saw that man's round, red face looming up in front of Molly and mother and you, it seemed to me that he looked like a veritable cupid; and I should like to give him a good big tip just for bringing us all together again."

"All right, but Fate ought to be tipped instead of that red-faced, avaricious old Frenchy," laughed Judy.

What a talk they did have when they got themselves settled comfortably in the studio, which the kindly Jo Williams and Polly Perkins had aired and freshened up for their arrival!

Kent had to tell all the Kentucky news first, as Mrs. Brown and Molly were eager to hear every detail concerning the loved ones at home. The report was a good one: John and Paul were doing well in their chosen professions; Sue was happy as a lark with her Cyrus, who was having the "muddy lane" macadamized; a recent letter from Ernest said that he would take his holiday in August, provided his mother and Molly would have returned to Kentucky by that time; Aunt Clay was in a pleasant, chastened mood, seeming rather reconciled to losing her suit; Aunt Mary, the dear old cook, was lonesome and forlorn with "Ole Miss and Molly Baby done gone so fer away. Looks lak I ain't got the heart to put a livin' thing inter a pie sence they done gone an' lef' me. I cyarn't eat fer a thinkin' what kind er messes they is puttin' in they own innerds; an I cyarn't sleep fer thinkin' of the deep waters a rollin' betwixt us." Mrs. Brown and Molly had to wipe their eyes at Kent's description of the dear old darkey.

"Speaking of innerds," laughed Kent, "where are we to have luncheon?

This constant change of climate is giving me a powerful good appet.i.te.

My only regret in regard to our crossing was that we did not come on a German line. The French line is good enough except that they have only four meals a day, while I am told the German has six."

"Oh, you greedy!" said Molly, giving him a little extra hug for luck.

"How would you like to have a spread in the studio? Judy and I will gladly show you what we can do. I'll go forage right now."

"The very thing!" exclaimed Judy. "You attend to the meat and dessert, and I'll hold up the salad end. Now, Mrs. Brown, you must rest and not do one thing but entertain the gentlemen, while Molly and I hustle around."

"I think the gentlemen had much better go with you and Molly and help forage. I will lie down and take a real rest while all of you are gone,"

said Mrs. Brown with a whimsical smile.

As they went out, Kent said to Judy: "What a brick Mumsy is, anyhow!"

Edwin Green said nothing, but he thought: "Mrs. Brown's tact and kindness are never failing."

He was eager to see Molly alone, but when they were alone he found he had not the courage to say to her the words that were in his heart. They talked of Wellington and their mutual friends. He had news to tell of Richard Blount and Melissa Hathaway which gave Molly great delight.

"The mountain would not go to Mohammed, so Mohammed is going to the mountain. There is an excellent opening for Richard in a Kentucky mountain town, Pineville, as a railroad lawyer, and he has accepted.

Melissa has been appointed supervisor of the schools for the district, and Miss Allfriend a.s.sures Melissa she can do more good to her beloved mountains in this way than by merely teaching, so she has accepted. Miss Allfriend is very happy at this outcome. She has seen her own youth go in the uphill work and is so glad to know that Melissa is to have a life of her own. Melissa and Richard are to be married in June."

"How splendid!" exclaimed Molly, clasping her hands and thinking what a silly girl she had been to fancy that Professor Green might care for the beautiful mountain girl otherwise than as a friend. "I know they will be very happy, and I believe Melissa will not let matrimony interfere with what she considers her life work."

"d.i.c.ky Blount declares he will never be jealous of such small things as mountains. That is rather complimentary to me, as he did me the honor to be jealous of me," laughed the professor.

"Why, how ridiculous!" and Molly plunged into the poultry shop, where the blazing fire accounted to her companion for her heightened color.

The proprietor had an extra pullet on the spit roasting for a chance customer. He p.r.o.nounced it "_charmante et tendre_," and the hungry crowd declared he was right.

The luncheon was perfect. Everyone was happy and so much talk was the order of the day that Jo Williams poked her head in to see what the row was about, and they made her stay to dessert; and then Polly Perkins came to see where Jo was, and they invited him to stay to coffee.

"You have had a very successful winter, have you not?" said Edwin Green to Mrs. Brown, while Molly and Judy cleared the table and Kent went over to Polly's studio to see the portrait of Mrs. Pace.

"Yes, indeed, most delightful. I have been much disappointed in not having Kent with us, and now that he has come, I must soon leave him here and go back to all the others. They need me, especially old Aunt Mary. I could never forgive myself if anything should happen to the old woman while I am away. She is getting very feeble. I fancy Kent will do well enough without me. He makes friends so easily and then dear Judy is to be here for another year at least."

As Judy leaned over her to arrange the bowl of flowers on the table, Mrs. Brown smiled on her as though she were already her daughter.

CHAPTER XIX.