The Four Corners

"Dirty," laughed Polly.

"It can be cleaned easily enough. Now, Cousin Polly, why will you laugh at it? Isn't it a fine idea?" Nan was aggrieved.

"It certainly is, Nan," returned her cousin. "I won't make fun, I really won't. What does Aunt Sarah say about it?"

"Oh, she won't care. We spoke of using our living-room first, you know, but she put her foot down, and when Aunt Sarah does put her foot down, she puts it down hard. You know there are four rooms in the wing beside the attic; we can use the two largest rooms for the tables and keep the supplies in the others."

Polly nodded. "We really could serve supper, or have a loan exhibit," she said reflectively, "and we might then be able to make quite a sum, but I reckon we'd better not attempt too much. Maybe some other time we can do that. Yes, Nan, the wing will be just the place. Now, let me see. You and Betty Selden can have the eatables and I will have Mary Lee with me at the fancy table. Jack and Jean can be flower girls and Ran can take the money at the door."

"Where can we get flowers at this time of year?" asked Mary Lee. "We don't want to buy them, do we?"

"Oh, everybody has a few house plants," returned Polly, "and there are still chrysanthemums in bloom out of doors. We can make up some very small bouquets and sell them for five cents apiece."

"What I want to know is exactly what we are going to do with the money," said Nan. "People ask me and I can't tell them."

"Why, it's for Daniella," said her cousin.

"Yes, I know; but she wouldn't take any when you offered it to her."

"Then we'll spend it for her in whatever way seems best. Where are you off to now?"

"We must tell Aunt Sarah what we have decided to do, and we have lots to do to get ready in time. I think I'll begin to clean the rooms at once," said Nan, eager for the fray.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Polly. "I'll come over to-morrow with old Achsah and get them in order. I'll have to see about tables. I suppose some long boards supported on boxes would do."

"There's the joggle-board," said Nan, "we could use that." The joggle-board was a useful possession; it had been put up for the children's amusement in the first place, and was a very long, very tough, very limber board, the two ends of which securely rested on uprights. It gave in the middle to the weight of the body and as younger children, the Corners delighted to joggle on it; even now Jack and Jean sometimes entertained themselves by its springing motion, though it was more often used as a repository for anything that came handy. The milk pans sunned there, pies were set upon it to cool, tomatoes were placed there for ripening, seeds were spread out for drying.

Polly thought rather favorably of the joggle-board. "We'll try it," she said, "if it isn't too long to go in those rooms. I'll ask father where we can get some other boards. We can cover them with table-cloths and they will do very well."

"There are no other boards at our house," remarked Mary Lee. "Unc' Landy uses up every bit and end to fix up the fences and roofs."

"We'll get some somewhere," said Polly.

The two girls ran home, eager to view the possibilities of the wing. They flung open the windows of the deserted rooms, discussed their size, advantages and disadvantages.

"It will be as cold as charity," declared Mary Lee.

"Then we'll have to have fires, open fires will be cheerful, and we'll make the place as pretty as possible."

"My, how dusty the windows are; it's going to be a sight of work," said Mary Lee.

However, this matter was taken off their hands by Polly who pressed her friends into service and by the last day of the month all was ready. Pine branches and autumn leaves decorated the mantel; curtains were hung at the windows; the long tables up-stairs presented articles pretty, useful and dainty, while down-stairs was shown such an array of goodies that every schoolboy dived into his pocket the moment he entered the door. Packages of panuchee tied up in Japanese napkins were in great demand; caramels were scarcely less favored, and cakes disappeared bodily in no time. Jack and Jean disposed of every bunch of flowers, and up-stairs, though the fancy articles went less slowly, they met a steady sale and very few were left by the end of the evening. These were sold by auction. Colonel Lewis undertook the office of auctioneer, serving so successfully that while every buyer thought he or she had a bargain, the articles really brought a fair price.

When all was over, and the last visitor had departed, the money was counted, the three boys, Ran, Phil and Ashby willingly undertaking to do this. "Twenty-seven dollars and forty-five cents," they announced.

"My, haven't we done well!" exclaimed the girls.

"I thought if we made twenty or twenty-five it would be a lot," said Nan. "I almost wish I were a mountain girl myself to have a bazaar held for me."

Jean looked quite shocked at this remark, but Jack agreed with Nan that it would not be a bad thing for one.

Polly was appointed guardian of the fund and it was agreed that an expedition to the mountain cabin should be made that they might learn what Daniella required and to what use it were best to put the money.

During this time the little maid of the mountain never dreamed of what was going on in the valley below, where the town whose spires she could see, seemed a far, unknown and mysterious place. If she had imagined that she was the constant thought of a little group of girls, or if she had known that their keen sympathies and tender desires went out toward her, she would have been less desolate than she was, sitting in the cabin alone with her feeble old grandfather whose mind was like that of a little child.

For two days these two had been there alone, Daniella watching, waiting by the tiny window, watching and waiting for the return of her mother who had gone to town to get a few things that she felt they could no longer do without.

A long time old Daniel Boggs and his son's wife had lived on the mountain. Here little Daniella had been born a month after her father's death. Here the child had thriven like an early spring flower not afraid of chill winds and lack of sunshine. Old Daniel had his little patch of corn, his wood lot, a few rows of potatoes, and a couple of pigs. If his revenues were increased by any other means, his family did not know it. They had enough and were content till in course of time Daniel became more of a child than his little granddaughter, and of late had lapsed into almost a helpless state. He had to be constantly watched lest he do some mischief, and he had become unable to do any work so now though the corn had been gathered and the potatoes unearthed by Daniella and her mother, the wood-pile was low and the winter was coming which would find them wanting many things. To get these Daniella's mother had gone to town taking with her a dozen rabbits which they had trapped, and which she hoped to sell.

For two days, Daniella had kept up the fire, had fed her grandfather, had looked after her chickens and the pigs and now was anxiously wondering why her mother did not come. Did it take so long to sell a dozen rabbits? In the small square window her anxious little face was framed as a party of young people came up the road. Daniella recognized them at once. There was the young lady who had promised her the red jacket and with her were two younger girls one of whom she had seen before. Daniella stood watching them. They came straight to the cabin and knocked on the door. Daniella opened to them.

"May we come in?" said Polly. "I have brought your red jacket."

Daniella's dark eyes sparkled, and she stepped aside that her visitors might enter. "Maw done gone to town," she said. "Tain't nobody hyah 'scusin' me an' grandad sence day 'fo' yessaday mawnin'." She had been so long with only the doddering old man in the corner that she was ready to talk.

"When do you expect your mother?" asked Polly.

"I dunno. She say when she done sell her rabbits she come back. Hit take a pow'ful time to sell rabbits, don't it?"

"It ought not to," answered Polly a little uneasily. She was wondering if the woman had deserted her daughter or if any ill could have befallen her. "Aren't you afraid to stay here alone?" she asked.

"No'm. Grandad jest lak a baby an' I kin cook the wittles, but I wisht maw'd git back."

The old man in the chimney corner stirred and looked vacantly toward the visitors. "Fine day," he said, wagging his head, then he added in a confidential whisper, "but they won't find it."

"Now, grandad," chided Daniella, "jest you quit talkin'."

The old man turned again to the fire and mumbled something about no one's ever finding out anything from him. Meanwhile the girls looked around the room. It was fairly clean, though dingy. A four post bedstead over which was a patchwork quilt, stood in one corner; in another was a sort of bunk over which was thrown a hairy robe of skins sewed together; two hickory chairs, a rude stool, a bench, a table made up the rest of the furniture. On a shelf was a pile of dishes and against the wall hung a few cooking utensils. It was by far the simplest establishment the girls had ever been in.

Polly produced the red jacket, known in common parlance by the unpleasant name of "sweater," and Daniella gave an exclamation of pleasure. "Try it on," said Polly, holding it out, and Daniella thrust her arms into the sleeves. She gave no thanks, but her evident delight was sufficient.

"Ef I had a pair of shoes I'd go hunt up maw," she said. "Leastways, I'd go if I could leave the old man."

"The shoes are here, too," said Polly, as she drew from her bag both shoes and stockings.

Daniella straightway plumped down on the floor to try them on. "Shoes never feels good," she said, "but these is the nicest feelin' I ever had. Oh, I wisht maw would come. Do you reckon she could take all this time to sell rabbits? She had twelve of 'em. We trapped 'em, her an' me. She was goin' to take 'em to the sto' and git things fo' 'em, an' then she was comin' back."

"She ought to be here then," said Polly.

"I wisht I could go hunt her up," said Daniella, anxiously. "You don't reckon nothin' could have ketched her, do you?"

"No, I don't see why anything should," Polly tried to reassure her. She gave a glance at the others, a glance which Daniella read with alarm.

"Yuh-alls thinks somethin's went wrong with my maw," she cried. Daniella looked helplessly at the old man. "I dassent leave him, I dassent, an' I wants to fin' my maw."

Without a word to the others, Nan stepped forward. "I'll stay with your grandfather," she said. "You go to town with my cousin and my sister and hunt up your mother. I'll stay till you can come back."

"Oh, Nan!" Mary Lee gave a low ejaculation.