The Four Corners

"Don't want to yet," replied Nan, smiling.

Her lively effort had the effect she wished and she was wide awake even when Aunt Sarah came up to bed. She waited till she was sure all was still in the house, putting out her light and watching till the crack of light coming from the room across the hall was no longer shining under the door. Then she lighted her own candle and cautiously unlocked a door leading from the room she was in to the unused wing of the house. She left the door open and stepped out into the dark empty hall. It appeared strange and uncanny. A sudden squeak and a scuttling sound suggested mice, and the whir of wings and the quick swoop of a bat's wing scared her so that she nearly dropped her candle. The peculiarly musty smell which comes from a house which has long been shut up greeted her as she stood for a moment irresolute. Was it worth while to continue the adventure?

"I just will have something to eat," she decided plucking up courage to cross the hallway and go down the stairs which led to the lower rooms. Her heart beat like a trip-hammer as she continued her way, and she was thankful when she reached the door leading to the occupied rooms. It was never locked, for the key was lost. Jack had disposed of it in some mysterious way. This Nan remembered when her eye fell on the key in the door up-stairs.

Once safe in the living-room, it was easy to find her way into the kitchen and to the cupboard where she knew she would find any remains of supper. To her satisfaction she discovered a small pitcher of milk, a few pieces of bread, a little dish of stewed peaches and a section of apple pie. These she carried over to the table and sat down to make a hearty supper. The lateness of the hour, for it was after eleven o'clock, put an extra edge upon her appetite and she ate heartily, stopping to wash the dishes and pile them up neatly on the table.

Lady Gray, who occupied the kitchen at night, that she might scare away any mice, arose from her box and came purring toward her. "I will take you back with me; you'll be lots of company," said Nan, "and you can sleep at the foot of my bed; you'll love to do that."

She lifted the cat, who put her paws over the girl's shoulder contentedly. She had been used to this method of being carried about from the time she was a kitten and was quite satisfied. All went well till the door of the living-room was closed after them, and Nan was mounting the stairs on her way back to her room. She was more than half way up when the sudden appearance of a mouse darting across the hall was too much for Lady Gray's equanimity. She gave a bound from Nan's arms, the suddenness of the spring sending the candle to the ground, and causing Nan to miss her footing on the stair. There was a scream, a fall, and then all was still while Nan lay huddled up in an unconscious heap at the foot of the stairway.

CHAPTER X

THE RED CLOTH

The sound of the fall startled Aunt Sarah from a sound sleep. She sat up in bed and listened. All was quiet. "I couldn't have been dreaming," she murmured. "Mary Lee, Mary Lee," she called, "did you hear anything?"

"Huh?" said Mary Lee sleepily.

"Did you hear something fall? I thought I heard a scream and a fall. Is Jean in bed with you?"

Mary Lee was now awake. "Yes, Aunt Sarah, she's here," she answered. "I don't know whether I heard anything or not, I was so sound asleep."

Miss Sarah lay down again, but her ears were open to the slightest noise and in a little while she heard a plaintive meow. Again she sat up. "I hear a cat," she said. "It's somewhere near-by, and I shut Lady Gray in the kitchen myself."

"Maybe it's on the porch roof," said Mary Lee, drowsily.

Miss Sarah arose and went to the window which overlooked the porch. "Scat!" she said, putting out her head. She waited a few moments but there was no sound from this quarter. When she drew in her head the meowing sounded more plainly than ever.

"It certainly is in the house," said Miss Sarah. She went to the door leading out into the hall and discovered that the sound seemed to come from one of the rooms opposite. In one of these slept the boys; the other was where she had turned the key upon Nan. Slipping on a dressing gown and slippers, and taking a candle, she went forth to investigate. She stopped first at the door where the Gordon boys slept; all was still. At Nan's door she listened. It was plain that the meowing came from there. Lady Gray having failed of catching the mouse had found her way into the room which Nan had left and was trying to make it known that she wished to be let out.

Miss Sarah opened the door and was met with every evidence of satisfaction by Lady Gray. "How in the world did you get up here?" asked Miss Sarah in surprise. But just then a curious damply smelling air arrested her attention and she perceived the door standing ajar. "Of all things!" she exclaimed and went on with her candle. "Nan," she called, "Nan, what prank is this? I wonder if that willful child really has run off to her grandmother's." She cautiously went on to the stairs, shading her candle with one hand and peering down into the dark hallway. A white heap at the foot of the stairs caught her eye. She hurried down to find Nan, pale and still, lying there.

"Oh, dear, dear, dear," cried Miss Sarah, "what has happened? Nan! Nan!" but Nan did not stir.

Unable to carry both Nan and the candle, Miss Sarah hastened back to her room. "Mary Lee, Mary Lee!" she called, "get up quick and bring a candle! Hurry!"

At this peremptory summons, Mary Lee leaped from her bed. "What is the matter? What is it?" she cried.

"Nan has fallen down the stairs. Come right along. Here, take both candles and I'll carry her."

Trembling, Mary Lee followed apprehensively, and lighted the way for her aunt to bear the helpless burden up-stairs to the room from which the girl had escaped. As Mary Lee caught sight of the white face and limp form, she burst into tears. "Oh, is she dead? Is she dead?" she cried.

"I don't know," said Miss Sarah, her lips quivering. "Run get me some camphor, or hartshorn or smelling salts, or, better yet, there is a little brandy in the medicine closet; bring that."

"I'll bring them all," answered Mary Lee, rushing away and coming back laden with bottles. "Oh, Aunt Sarah," she said, anxiously watching her aunt force the brandy between the shut lips, "suppose she is dead! Suppose she is, and I called her an angle-worm. Oh, my dear Nan! My poor Nan! What will mother say?"

"Hush up," cried Aunt Sarah, tortured beyond forbearance. "I reckon you're not the only one who is feeling distressed. She's coming around, Mary Lee," she said presently, "but I can't tell whether there are any bones broken or not. We'd better get the doctor at once. Her right arm looks queer to me. Call Randolph and send him for Dr. Woods."

Aroused by the confusion, Jack came pattering to the door. "What is the matter?" she called as she heard Mary Lee knocking on the boys' door.

"Nan's fallen down the stairs," said Mary Lee, concisely.

"Is she dreadfully hurt? Oh, Mary Lee, is she?"

"We don't know, but we are going to send for the doctor."

Jack rushed across to where Nan was lying. "Go right back to bed," commanded Aunt Sarah. "I don't want a case of croup. I've got about as much as I can manage right here."

"I want to see my Nan."

"Go to bed," ordered Miss Sarah, and Jack sobbingly obeyed.

Mary Lee returned with the report that Randolph would go instantly. She poured out some of the brandy and came close to the bed to see Nan opening her eyes.

"She was stunned," said Aunt Sarah. "No, she mustn't have any liquor; it will be bad for her now. She is gaining consciousness."

Nan gave a weak moan. "What's the matter?" she said faintly. "My arm hurts so. Where's mother?"

Aunt Sarah's chin quivered and her eyes filled as she answered, "You've had a fall, child. Keep quiet till the doctor comes."

Nan closed her eyes and lay still for a moment. Presently she said: "I was hungry and I went down to get something to eat." Then she fainted again and Aunt Sarah was busy with restoratives when the doctor came. He was a bluff, hearty, middle-aged man who had known Nan all her life.

"What's all this?" he said. "Tumbling down stairs in the dead of night? Walking like a ghost in shut up places? What does this mean, Miss Nan?"

Nan tried to smile but felt herself slipping off into an unreal world while the doctor looked her over. "Nothing worse than a broken arm," he decided, "only a simple fracture, fortunately." The bone was slipped into place, causing a moment of exquisite agony, and after leaving a soothing potion, the doctor said, "She will be feverish and possibly a little delirious after her fall. I will come again in the morning." He departed leaving Miss Sarah to a solitary vigil while Nan moaned and wandered off again into the world of unreality.

Toward morning she began to mutter about strange things of which Aunt Sarah had never heard: the Poppy Fairy and Giant Pumpkin-Head, the Place o' Pines and the red cloth. Then she tried to sing a little song beginning: "A little child goes wandering by." At this the tears started to Aunt Sarah's eyes and she busied herself in putting iced cloths on the burning head.

Sunday morning dawned softly bright, a dim haze over the purple mountains and a faint mist enveloping the valley. Mary Lee awoke with the realization that something distressful had happened. She told the twins to keep very quiet for Nan was very sick, and it was a sober little group which gathered around the breakfast table.

Randolph and Ashby tiptoed about cautiously. Jean took refuge with Unc' Landy and Jack established herself just outside the door of the room where Nan lay. Mary Lee rushed down to Cousin Mag's with the woeful tale and Cousin Mag hurried back with her offers of help. She insisted upon taking Aunt Sarah's place and allowing her to rest, but this Aunt Sarah would not permit.

"I reckon I am more responsible for this than any one else is, Margaret," she said. "I was in a perfect pepper-jig of a temper because Nan went over to Uplands, and when she answered me back pretty saucily I was madder at that than anything, so I made her go without her supper and locked her up into the bargain. We're both of us pretty well punished and I reckon it's going to be my only consolation to nurse her."

Cousin Mag then declared that the twins should stay at her house a few days and she would see to it that the housekeeping went on smoothly at the Corners'. "You'll have to take some rest," she declared, "and I will come over every day to see that you get it."

So began the long siege for Aunt Sarah and Nan, each of whom was receiving a punishment not anticipated. Because she felt herself partly to blame, Aunt Sarah was tenderness itself, and for the same reason Nan was a docile patient.

Jean was perfectly willing to spend a week at Cousin Mag's and rather liked the idea, but Jack at first rebelled, and only after receiving the promise that she should see Nan every day was she willing to go. So every afternoon a wistful little face appeared at Nan's door.

It was on the third day that Nan first noticed her. After her fever and delirium, she lay weak and exhausted, but she gave a faint smile of welcome to her little sister. Aunt Sarah had stepped from the room for a minute and Jack ventured inside. "Can't I do something for you? May I kiss you just once, Nannie?" she said softly.

"Yes indeed," said Nan, and Jack dropped a gentle kiss upon her cheek.

"Have you seen the red cloth?" asked Nan with as much anxiety in her voice as her weakness would allow.

"Oh, I haven't looked," said Jack, "but I will." Aunt Sarah's footsteps were heard in the hall and Jack slipped out. "I kissed her," she said facing Aunt Sarah at the door, "but I didn't make her worse." Aunt Sarah smiled but made no reply.