The Four Corners

A little expression of pain passed over Mrs. Corner's face and she sighed. "Never let yourself be a wicked old woman, Nancy, to want your own way. Be willing to share what you possess with others. Never be jealous and suspicious and envious. Try not to pity yourself too much and don't think your rights are superior to those of other persons. You will be very unhappy if you do not learn your lesson early. The book of life holds many hard pages and it will be handed back to you over and over again till you have learned by heart what is meant you should know."

"Now, mother," put in Miss Helen, "you are entirely too grave and preachy. Don't spoil Nan's first visit by giving her the impression that she is in a lecture-room."

"You are right, Helen; I should not allow myself to be carried away to the past from the present. Forgive me, Nancy, for being prosy and serious; your coming awakened so many memories of things I have tried to forget. Tell me about your mother while Helen gets out some things I brought you from Italy."

Nan's eyes sparkled. "Brought me? How good of you," she exclaimed. She wondered what the gifts could be and was quite overpowered when Miss Helen came in with her arms piled high with all sorts of packages. There were soft silks from Sorrento, corals from Naples, strings of beads from Venice, odd bits of jewelry from Florence, scarfs and sashes from Rome, a quaint little hat from Milan, embroideries, laces, knickknacks of all kinds.

Nan looked at them in delighted amazement. She had never seen so many pretty things together before. "They're not all for me," she said.

"All for you, my dear," said her grandmother with a pleased smile.

"But," Nan spoke earnestly, "it would be dreadfully selfish for me to be piggy and not give the others anything, my sisters, you know. They'd think I was the proud sister sure enough." Nan looked toward her aunt and back at her grandmother. Then she saw the mild expression disappear and the look of the portrait came over Mrs. Corner's face.

"I wish you to have them all," she said haughtily. "Not one of the others has thought it worth while to come to see me; but you, Nancy," her face softened, "you sent me a kiss before you saw me."

"Oh, but," Nan's eyes grew starry, "you know I am the eldest and I met Aunt Helen and they didn't; besides, they don't understand; the twins are too young and Mary Lee, well – she hadn't seen Aunt Helen, you know. I thank you a thousand times, grandmother, for being so lovely as to bring me these things, but indeed, I'll have to be honest and say I can't keep them all for my own self."

"Put them away, Helen," said Mrs. Corner wearily. "It is only one more disappointment. I hoped my granddaughter would be pleased."

The tears came to Nan's eyes. "I am pleased. I can't tell you how much. I never saw such lovely things, and I'm just crazy for them, but I should feel such a mean, meany, piggish thing to keep them all."

"Never mind," said Mrs. Corner with an air of resignation, "perhaps you will change your mind, Nancy, after you have thought it over."

Nan knew perfectly well that she never would, but she said nothing, and had the discomfort of seeing Miss Helen carry away the things as Mrs. Corner insisted that she should do. "She might have left out one little string of beads," thought Nan. But not so much as a tiny pin was allowed her and she began to realize something of the spirit which had antagonized her mother and which had given her father such distress. However, she was too proud to show her disappointment and did not leave at once; instead she chatted pleasantly and even kissed her grandmother good-bye.

Miss Helen followed her to the door. "You must not mind mother's ways too much, Nancy," she said. "She will think better of it yet, and you must consider that all she has brought you will be really yours to do with as you like after a while. Be patient with her, darling, if you love your Aunt Helen. Thank you so much for coming over and for being so dear and sweet to mother. She appreciates even when she does not confess it. You will come again soon, won't you?"

"Oh, yes," returned Nan, not quite so heartily as she would like to have spoken. She was disappointed, really bitterly disappointed, she confessed to herself. Her grandmother was no queen, but only a faulty woman. A sad and sorrowful one, it was true, and one willing to make an effort in many directions to compensate for her hardness and bitterness of former years, yet she still clung to her imperious ways and was not ready to give up her own way nor to allow any one to thwart her will.

Nan drew a long sigh as she went down-hill. It was not going to be as easy as she had hoped to love her grandmother. What a delight it would have been to display all those lovely things to the family, to give Mary Lee that string of beautiful blue beads and the striped Roman sash; to let Jean and Jack choose what they liked best, and to give even Aunt Sarah something from the splendid mass of things, while to her mother Nan would have sent the very best of whatever seemed suitable. It certainly was tantalizing to have things happen this way. However, there was still the possibility of future possession her Aunt Helen had promised her, and she would take comfort in that.

Jack was the only one who had curiosity enough to ask questions when Nan returned. No doubt but Miss Sarah would like to have had a full account of Nan's visit, but she scorned to show any interest and Mary Lee took her cue from her. "Well, you're back again," was the only remark she made as Nan passed through the room.

"Yes, here I am," returned Nan. She felt that she would rather not discuss her visit with either Mary Lee or Aunt Sarah. Jack waylaid her as she was on her way up-stairs. "Did you see our grandmother, Nan?" she asked, "and is she a horrid old witch?"

"No, she isn't that," replied Nan, "though she is different from what I expected. She was very kind at first, but she showed the iron hand in the velvet glove before I came away."

Jack looked as if she understood. She was always quick to take Nan's allusions.

"If you won't say anything to anybody, I'll tell you all about it," said Nan.

Jack nodded. She could be relied upon to keep a secret if she gave a promise, but was a very expansive person when there was no reason for silence. As Nan expatiated upon the glories of the gifts that were withheld Jack grew deeply interested.

"And you were going to give me some, weren't you?" she said.

"Of course," replied Nan.

"I think you were very proud and very good not to take them," remarked Jack, meditatively, all the while forming her own plans. "Was she so very cross, Nan?" she asked presently.

"Not exactly cross, only bound to have her own way, like some other people I know."

Jack laughed. "I don't suppose you listened to her if she did say things you didn't like. That's the way I do. I always think of something nice, like eating ice cream or having a new doll, when any one scolds me; it makes it lots easier," she said philosophically. She saw no reason now why she should not go to her grandmother's. She reasoned that it was because no one but Nan had been to see her that she refused gifts to the rest, and if there was any way, not too difficult, in which she could get a string of those beautiful beads which Nan had described, Jack meant to do it.

She spent much time that afternoon laboriously writing in her very best hand, her name upon a card. The next day, dressed in her best, she started to make a formal call at Uplands. She meant to be very polite and ingratiating, and, if all went well, she would induce Jean to go. She felt that at this first interview it would be best that no one but herself and her grandmother should be present, for Jean did not know things and might say something she should not. Although the beads were the largest object of her motive in going, there was besides a desire to gain for Nan those things which Jack felt she ought to have.

At the door, she handed the maid the card upon which was unevenly written: "Miss Jacqueline Corner." "I have come to call on Mrs. Corner," she said gravely, and walked into the drawing-room where she seated herself expectantly.

Curiosity, amusement and a real desire to see the child brought Mrs. Corner down. Miss Helen was not at home. Jacqueline arose to meet her grandmother with her best company manners. "I am very much pleased to meet you, Mrs. Corner," she said. "I hope you are very well."

"Not so very well, though better than yesterday," replied the lady, seating herself.

"You ought to take Junipy Tar," said Jack, solicitously; "that is what Unc' Landy takes when he isn't well." She supposed this a remedy specially fitted to the needs of the aged.

Mrs. Corner thanked her, smilingly, her amusement increasing.

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" asked Jack, racking her brain for a proper subject.

"You mean across the ocean? Only fairly so. I am not a very good sailor."

Jack looked at her in surprise. "Oh," she said, "I didn't know ladies ever were sailors, and I am sure they would never make good ones; their skirts must get so in the way when they climb the ropes. I suppose you never went up as far as the main-top-gallant mast."

"No, never," returned Mrs. Corner, laughing outright. Jack could not understand her amusement and changed the subject.

"Do you like dogs?" she asked.

"Very much."

"We have one; his name is Trouble. We like him but Ran says he wouldn't take a prize at a bench show. I don't see why dogs should take prizes at bench shows; I should think it would be only benches, the biggest bench or the prettiest bench or the one made by the youngest child like they give prizes at the fair. Don't you love fairs? I do. I like the pink lemonade best of all and the prize packages of candy. Once I got a real sure enough diamond ring, but it was too big for me and I lost it. Jean likes the pop-corn and the gingerbread the best. What do you like?"

"I think," said Mrs. Corner, "that I like seeing the people as well as anything."

"I do sometimes, but I don't always. Once we all went to the circus and Jean dropped her hat between the benches. I crawled under to get it, and every time I tried to get out some one stepped on my head; I thought I'd have to stay there forever. It was awful."

"It must have been."

"Is it ten minutes yet? I don't suppose I ought to stay more than ten minutes at a first call, ought I? Cousin Polly says that is long enough."

"I think persons often do stay longer." Mrs. Corner was too greatly entertained to want to get rid of her guest. "I am sure I shall be delighted if you will stay," she went on as she rose to ring the bell. "Bring some cake and some of that currant shrub that Mrs. Southall sent me," she told the maid, and Jack was glad she had mentioned the pink lemonade. "I want to offer you some refreshment, Miss Jacqueline," said her grandmother.

"Thank you," said Jack, promptly sitting down again. "Nobody ever calls me Jacqueline; it's always Jack. When Nan and I are grown we are going to call ourselves Nannette and Jacqueline, not Nan and Jack, but mother says she wants me always to be called Jack after my father. He was your son, wasn't he?"

The amused look faded from Mrs. Corner's eyes. "He was my only son and no one can take his place. No one knows how terribly I miss him."

"Well," said Jack, forgetting to be propitiatory, and somehow resenting this speech, "I'm sure we couldn't ever get a new father any more than you could get a new son, and I reckon my mother misses him as much as you do."

Mrs. Corner looked startled. "I suppose so; I suppose so," she murmured. "It is true that others have claims."

Jack did not quite take this in but she followed up her speech by adding: "I suppose you missed your husband when he died, didn't you?"