A Complete Story

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 16, 6 May 1925, Page 9

A Complete Story

(By Rose Martin, in the Boston Pilot.)

MOLLY OF THE GOOD HEART

!This is Mollie Maloy's story, told me with the suggestion that I "make a story of it," but when I tried to do so, there Were difficulties, in the seeming absence of reason, . moral, or plot. Could I centre the story on the/fact of Mollie's good heartand give the erroneous impression that a good heart is the one thing necessary? Or on the unwisdom of having a bad temper? Mollie's temper .did not matter in the end. Answered prayer ? A suggestion of moral here, but there is nothing original, or out of the ordinary about that. All prayer is answered; and then I found Mollie Maloy was herself the centre and reason of the whole narra- /'./. tive. ' - - ■'■.. /-'■'; Mollie was a small slip of a girl, when she came across—literally speaking, with her mother; and all her life she has had. very •••■;,.." red hair, and cheeks, and very blue eyes.: Mrs. Maloy started a boarding house, and as the years passed, Mollie became its most attractive feature; but she kept the young .;; men at a proper distance, with her sharp tongue, or a withering look, as occasion de- '. _ manded. / :/ Perhaps Mollie was at her best, in loveliness and charm, when she was twenty-two. It was then the Browns came: Dr. Dick, , studying up some special work at one of the hospitals, and his brother Jack, attending college. It was he who immediately became Mollie's slave. She was always kind to shy or homesick people, and the boy, very much - of a boy, though near Mollie's age—was both. Presently Dick also capitulated, and it became apparent to all the world that Mollie ~ and the Doctor loved each other. Now and then ;Mollie's quick temper showed itself, and there was a quarrel; but as a general thing' she was angelically amiable. Mollie's friends and acquaintances were greatly |p pleased and somewhat relieved they had railways i. known the girl had . a good heart, 0j but who could ever tell whether heart or '\ongue. would be given full - play? i Now /in marrying this well-to-do young man her life ——arid;. tempermust be smoothed.' jNo one was surprised when the engagement . was Z r announced./; -"■■''■ ■ : -..-[ -~ ';: ';/..• \'."_ "'■'. ~

- The wedding was to take place as soon as Mollie could be ready. She and her motner were good sewers, and the trousseau pro-; ceeded briskly, and. boarders capable of holding a needle delighting to help. All the world, Indeed, loves a lover, yet more,. I think, it loves ' a bride. Her clothes were lovely, and the wedding dress, a dream come true. Jack was to be best man, and if he found things unsatisfactory he did not show -it, even saying manfully he was glad they were going to have Mollie in the family. A girl who had been Mollie's chum in school days', was to come from another; town to spend a few days with Mollie before the . wedding, and be bridesmaid. • ~f There a theatre party, and Dick was rather attentive to Helen, the visitor. I believe, at that time, Dick Brown had no . thought of disloyalty to Mollie —had no other thought, indeed, than of being properly nice to Mollie's guest; but that night Mollie called him sharply to task. There was a quarrel, and on the next occasion of assembly by the wedding party dinner it was cloud obviously hovered between future bride and groom. Then Mollie realised • her folly; when she saw Dick alone she told him she had been a goose— he please forgive her ? And be friends again ? . Doubtless /Mollie's sudden• change surprised Dick and her request must have dis .concerted him—but he said why, yes, he for gave her, and of courseif she wished it—they were friends. *~ 'v-/.--Everything went gaily, smoothly- at th< r-r wedding rehearsal; then the day itself cam« —but./ not; Dick. Such an old plot, isn'i it? Let us hurry on. Mollie was radiant beautiful, when v dressed as a bride she came downstairs; then she looked around at tin - assembled household and asked: "Where i /Helen?" ■■-; "' ..''.■;■;" ;<;- - .;"o : / .// ■ .' .\ At that moment a wild-eyed best man ar rived/ (he and his brother had been staying /properly; at a hotel)' 1 with /a/ note which Did V had left for Mollie. "Helen/and I love eacl other, and have gone to be married," i read. Jack, who had ■ guessed the/ content of the note, stoodj a/fc^^ side, prepare*

to have her faint —instead, he met her eyes, blue flames of wrath. There will be no wedding," was all she said, as she turned and went' back to her room. ■ No one ever saw. the wedding dress again, Mollie tore it /;j into shreds. From outside (they; could* hear her restless pacing-up and down, but she would allow ho one to enter, she? must face and conquer certain things alone. - The next day Mollie ; seemed /almost.:, as usual, bat from that time she was sharper of • tongue, more inclined to tell people what - she thought of them if they deserved cen- ; sure,] yet. kinder to any in 'heed,... and very V thoughtful of the old « and' infirm. She became 6 an ardent' church-goer. The boarders said ruefully she would leave anything g/at;-., sound of a church bell, whether it were a ' coffee-pot boiling on r the stove or a month's rent, flung carelessly on the table. She went •---. too far, or perhaps did not manage well, './. hut let us be thankful : if .there are some who go far service of the Lord instead of - the devil. ' ; . ;",';'••■■ - "■ _ r / V:v~- , i ; When Mrs. Maloy died,, people wondered what Mollie would do. It was before the > days - when you studied something ''... or other for a few months and then' : pronounced yourself an efficiency expert; but without any ; discussion Mollie simply became'sole manager | of the boarding house. The result was more ( or less satisfactory. . Certainly she could clean • and cook and keep people in order; but any-.' one with a hard luck story could impose on her kindness, and might remain indefinitely " at her house without paying. She did not hesitate to reprimand boarders who were remiss about going to churchor for other misconduct, which many resented. For Mollie was no longer young now, there; was less/ tolerance shown her quick temper ;> people / said "She was old enough to know better—- ' though, of course, she did have a good> heart." * :.■ ..-..* ggS During the World's Fair, Mollie was rather prosperous. She lived near the church, and when people inquired ;of . the '■■ priests - for a reasonable boarding house in that neigh--; borhood, Miss Maloy was recommended.'- But when the applicants were - : priests .or religious, not a cent would Mollie charge, to their -very/great embarrassment. T In her reverent Irish heart every priest was "an- ! other Christ," could she take- pay of > Him? As for religious, F it was a privilege /to have any in her house, and would bring a bless- • ing upon it. A pitiful, pleading letter came oneV day; ' from Helen. She and Dick had settled in her home town. ; She ■ wanted Mollie's for- ; v giveness before she died—of cancer. She ! was ; sorry she could not ask ft in person 5 : Mollie was sweeping the - front hall when » the postman handed her the , letter. She! s read it at once, leaning thoughtfully on her \ btoom<-as; she considered ; its contents Yes, 5 she ..would ; write v at once and tell Helen she 7 forgave her. : She supposed- she did, at least - ; she . had been trying /to these v many/ years. ; /dancer—it. was a terrible thing—and people c disliked being hear anyone who had it. How i;. Helen—so fastidious : - always.. ';- How \ dainty t/ She had looked ; in her pink chiffon dressfaE s the dinner party . She fell to sweeping fur--1 ibusly. Yes, she would write: ■■) it ' was £ : not

right :to probe old wounds. Then suddenly she had decided—she left the broom and the sweeping just as it was— the boarders to tSfce care of themselves— she went

to Helen, remaining till the end. Jack was with his brother, but absorbed in caring for Helen, Mollie scarcely noticed the two men.

Afterward Mollie went back to her boarding house and lean, wearisome years foltowed,- of skimping, drudging,\ striving /■ to make ends meet. Her location ceased to be desirable— her best-paying boarders left, | necessitating less expensive food. The house, heavily mortgaged, was at- last sold over Her head. In four weeks she must give possession, when she would be penniless as - well as homeless; But confidently, fervently, Mollie prayed to the Sacred Heart of Jesus that she would find work before the month ended. She was strong, she knew there was plenty of work she was capable of, if only she could find it. But alas, —no one really wanted Mollie now,, for the simple reason that she was old. Desperately she wondered if the Little Sisters of the Poor would be her fate. Well, hadn’t she always admired the Sisters and held their lives as Heaven on earth.?

Jack Brown’s letter came just in time to save her. Would she be his .housekeeper He lived with his mother, who had now become .an invalid; already incompetent housekeepers had tried his patience severely. There was a cook, so Mollie would not find the work too strenuous— she cared to come ho would, of course, pay her fare. Was ever clearer, more direct • answer to prayer? Jack known nothing of Mollie’s difficulties; it would not have occurred to him to associate such unpleasant affairs with the strong, capable character he.believed her; he had simply turned do her because he knew she would take proper cafe of his beloved home. It was a beautiful, old-fashioned country house over which Mollie was given full charge. She loved it at once, slipping into her place as housekeeper as though into something made especially for her. Jack was well pleased, for he was saved from all tftose worrisome trifles which before had irked him severely.

■ , It was some weeks after Mollie’s arrival. Jack Brown, having finished a particularly satisfactory breakfast, put aside the morning paper with an air of decision, and went outside where Mollie was trimming the roses. : “Miss Maloy,” he said with cheerful unpreparedness, “I’ve been wondering if you’d care to marry me?” - ' /

He could see she was startled, and he went on hurriedly and wistfully: “You must know I’ve always liked —and you’ve always been friendly to me. Why shouldn’t we marry, then?” * . v:

/ Mollie hesitated, her pensive glance taking in all her surroundings the rose gardenjjthe m big trees, the rambling old-fash-ioned house. At a word from her these precould become her own, become home that was the word of all others which held most allurement for Mollie. Then she shook, her head. “We are too. old, Mr. Brown.”

“But we are not very old,” he maintained obstinately, “and as my wife, your position would be much better, socially,”

‘Yes,” she' acknowledged, “but that is no reason for marriage.” / - "

“You mean, I take it, for marrying me,” he said bitterly, “if it were Dick your answer would L- be different.” All ' these years he had restrained, his ,jealousy ; of . Dick, but now he was giving it full playX “I believe you are still fofid' of him— prefer him to me!” ■■ - /: .•,/./,

Mollie, being one of the. kindest people in the world, did not smile as she contemplated the irate, bald-headed old bachelor, inclined to stoutness and . shortness of breath, yet behaving like an exceptionally foolish young lover. Instead ' she ' spoke very gently, desiring that he understand just how things were with her. “No, .Mr. Brown, I do not prefer your brother, to you. Once I was very fond of him but of late years I seem to care only for tl?e good God, and any of His creatures in need of help or kindness.”

So they shook hands and things went on as before. Shortly after, the letter came from Ireland, telling of .Mollie’s legacy, some forgotten relative had left her “a little something”—three thousand dollarsand Mollie’s joy was boundless. She was rich nowor would be, till .she could spend the money. She had made friends in the small country town near the Brown home —among them a kind-hearted lawyer, who at once endeavored to rescue . Mollie’s moneyfrom herself r It was her patriotic duty to take, some government bonds; also she must allow them to mature. If she attempted to dispose of them before maturity she would embarass the government by depreciating the bonds’ value. “You owe something to this country,” the lawyer assured her gravely, “as you have made, a good living here for many years.” / '

Mollie agreed enthusiastically, thrilled and delighted that she could thus personally uphold the United States, —but she kept a thousand dollars just to, spend. ’

“Investing in bonds, Miss Maloy f; will have something saved when she gets too old for ’ active work,” the lawyer explained to Jack Brown, . ‘‘though it’s likely some “down and out’ , may yet entice the money from Her.”. ’ v . y

Mr. Brown nodded. “Yes, she ought to hold on to it, though I have provided for her in my willif I die first she will be all right.” i

-One day Mollie. Maloy, radiant, pleased as a child with a new toy, having obtained leave of absence from Mr. Bro.wn, went back to the big city whence; she had . come, to spend her thousand dollars. She needed some new clothes—indeed she had prepared a long list of clothes and other things she must buybut they were not all for herself. First she looked up the O’Neill family, former neighbors of hers; the children were, provided with new shoes and a warm shawl bought ; for the. old grandmother. The Burkes for once in their lives had a square meal. It was a thrilling experience, this having of: a purse, full to the brim, and with dollars rather than cents, as basis for spending; yet .it went with lightning swiftness. Almost in a panic, Mollie Remembered her intention of buying ■ something for herCll * i i ' . . • . • . i self. She must get a pretty waist at least otherwise she could not face Mr. -Brown.

Arrived at a department store, Mollie was directed to the floor kept exclusively fot “blouses.” ' The word alarmed Mollie somewhat. Blouses to her meant cute little wide-collared waists worn by small boys. Had inexorable fashion decreed that all the wdrld wear them now ? Soon she was undeceived a blouse meant a waist, of any kind, from the severe tailored style to . ? , shimmering sleeveless drapery. With a ’sigh of happiness she found them on all sides of her. Mollie explained to an attentive salesgirl that she * wanted a waist suitable for evening. “Something light, but not too gay,” she said firmly, even as her eyes dwelt hungrily on a blue georgette creation, embroidered in tiny pink rosebuds. “We have that pattern in white,” the girl- said. “I’ll show it to you—it will just suit your type.”

She opened a box and the white one fascinated Mollie would it stand any washing? The girl acknowledged it would not, and suggested dry cleaning. “You’d look lovely in it,” she said, and held the waist against Mollie, experimentally. Miss Maloy put it at arm’s length,- viewing it critically. Then her eyes rested on a black satin, further down the line. Would that be more suitable for a person of her age? I believe I’ll look at some others before deciding,” she told the salesgirl, and forthwith viewed the black blouse at all angles, only to decide it was too sombre for evening. As she turned away the girl of the georgettes approached. “Did you decide to take the white blouse?”, she asked.

“Not quite,” Mollie returned, “I see a grey over there I want to look at.”

“If you decide on the white one you will let me know?” the girl suggested, a shade of anxiety in her tone. . -

“0 certainly,” Mollie returned, but., .slip had met her fate in the grey—pretty, and not so perishable as the georgettes. As she turned from the counter; after arranging to have the “blouse” sent parcel post, the first salesgirl again approached. “You decided on the white?” she said pleasantly. “Shall I have it wrapped for, you?” * \'P. “Why,t no,” .Mollie ■ faltered. Evidently the sale meant something to this girl, but she simply could not buy. two waists, and she walked toward the door in some haste. The girl walked , with her. Mollie was puzzled as she became aware that some of the other girls seemed to be observing her * with exaggerated interest. Were they exceptionally curious, or friendly? It must bo the latter. At the door she turned and beamed on them all. “Good-bye, girls,” she ■ said. It was impossible to doubt Mollie’s honesty. The girl at her side giggled/ “You have the white blouse on your arm,” she told her, and a v gale of merriment swept? the whole department at Mollie’s surprised discomfiture. Then she laughed . heartily herself. Let us leave, you now, Mollie Maloy of the good hearth-making friends of ! these .girls leave you in happiness, comfort, your joy in giving, spendingwhile - the clouds have lifted, the storm abated, and the sun shines brightly on your life as you deserve. v’ T