The Four Corners

"Oh, how perfectly delicious," cried Nan, her imagination all afire. "I'd love that. Where is the sunset tree? It is such a lovely name for it."

The lady pointed to a huge oak just across the brook. "It is called that because one can see the sunset so finely from there. Have you never been up to look at the sun go down behind the hills? There is one little notch between the mountains over there and at a certain season of the year the sun drops right down into it."

"I have never seen it," said Nan, regretfully. "I wonder why no one ever told me about it. I think sunset tree is such a lovely name and it is just the spot for a trysting place. It would be a lovely secret, but I never had a real important one from mother before. I shall have to tell her about going up there; not right away, but some day. It always comes out sooner or later and I would rather tell just mother, if you don't mind."

"So you may. I'm glad you feel that way about it. Little girls should never have secrets they cannot tell their mothers. In three days you may tell her, if you think it would be right to keep silence that long."

"Oh, that will not be very long. I could keep the secret longer if you said so."

"That will be long enough. Now, shut your eyes while you count one hundred slowly or the queen of the fairies will not let me appear again. The spell will be broken if you so much as peep, or if you do not count aloud."

Nan closed her eyes very tight and began to count. She gave a little interrupting gasp as she felt a light kiss on her cheek, but she kept steadily on till she had reached the desired number. Then she opened her eyes and looked around. There was no one in sight. The afternoon sun was sinking behind the trees, and the cows were returning home along the county road. With the weight of such a secret as she had never before carried, Nan ran home in a happy tumult of excited expectation. At the back of the house she came upon Mary Lee and Phil still absorbed in their polywogs.

"Come see," cried Mary Lee, "they are too funny for anything, Nan. They are the interestingest things I ever saw."

Nan went up to look. "What is so wonderful about polywogs?" she asked.

"You'd think yourself wonderful," said Phil indignantly, "if you could change yourself from a swimming beast into a hopping one and be as awfully amphibious as they are."

Nan laughed and drew her finger slowly through the water in the cask. "They aren't half so wonderful as fairies," she said. "They can change themselves into all sorts of things."

"Oh, pshaw! Everybody knows that there are no real fairies. These can really change before your very eyes; we've watched them from day to day, haven't we, Mary Lee?"

"Yes, we have," was the answer. "Nan always likes foolish make-believe things, but we like the real ones."

"Fairy godmothers are real," Nan answered back over her shoulder as she left the pair discussing the proper treatment of their present pets. They paid no attention to her speech and she laughed to herself, exulting in her secret. Before she reached the house she heard a wail from the direction of the orchard, and perceived Jean sitting on the ground under a tree. As Nan approached, she whimpered softly.

"What's the matter, kitten?" asked Nan.

"Jack was pretending I was a calf," said Jean, mournfully, "and she hobbled me to the tree so I couldn't get to my mother, and now she's gone off and I can't get the rope untied."

"Poor little calf, and the cows all coming home, too. Never mind, I'll untie you. Where is Jack?"

"She was going for her cows, but I reckon she's done forgot it."

"Don't say done forgot; that sounds like Mitty and Unc' Landy."

Jean hung her head. She was used to these chidings from her eldest sister. She had a curious babyish way of speaking, not being easily able to make the sounds of th or qu. "I know it isn't crite right," she said, "but I forget sometimes."

Nan put her arms around her. "Of course you do. We all forget some things sometimes. Come with me and let us hunt up Jack. I'll venture to say she's in some mischief."

She was not far wrong in her conjectures, for after a half hour's diligent searching, Jack was found. She had discovered a can of white paint, supplied by Aunt Sarah for the betterment of the front fence which Landy had proudly commenced to adorn with a shining coat of whiteness. He had been called away when he had made but little progress and Jack had taken up the job with great glee. She was in the height of her enjoyment, daubing on great masses of white which dribbled down the palings wastefully. The child herself was smeared from hair ribbon to shoe-strings and was a sight to behold.

"Jack Corner!" exclaimed Nan. "You dreadful child! Just look at you, and, oh, dear, how you are wasting paint. It won't begin to be enough to finish the fence the way you have been using it. Unc' Landy will give you Jesse."

"Some one's always giving me Jesse," complained Jack. "You all keep saying Unc' Landy has so much to do and I am only helping him."

"Pretty help, using up the paint and ruining your clothes. March yourself straight into the house, miss." Nan took hold of Jack's shoulder which was twitched away, and with a vicious fling of the dripping brush directly at Nan, Jack turned and fled.

"She is the most trying child," said Nan, deftly dodging the brush, though not without receiving some drops upon her frock. "I declare, there isn't a day when she doesn't do something dreadful."

"She just fought she was helping," put in Jean, always ready to defend her twin by imputing worthy motives to her performances.

"Maybe she did, but it's pretty poor help," said Nan, stooping to pick a plantain leaf with which to wipe off the worst spots from her skirt. "Aunt Sarah was so good as to buy the paint. I know she went without something to do it, and now for Jack to do her so mean as to play this scurvy trick is too bad. I'm all done out with Jack. It's lucky we found her when we did or there wouldn't have been even as much paint as there is. I must go tell Unc' Landy at once. Maybe he can scrape off some of this before it dries. Help indeed! It gives him double work." Her last words were spoken to thin air, for Jean had hurried off to comfort Jack and Nan was left to break the news to Unc' Landy.

CHAPTER III

NAN'S SECRET

When Nan opened her eyes the next morning it was with a consciousness that something pleasantly exciting was to happen, and she lost no time in hurrying down-stairs and, after breakfast, in getting through her prescribed duties with more than usual haste. Her mother smiled to see that she was so eager and businesslike and that her moodiness of the day before had departed, while Aunt Sarah said: "I hope your fancy will not lead you to try the tune the old cow died of to-day, Nannie."

Nan smiled but made no reply. What matter if Aunt Sarah did cast slurs upon her musical attempts? There were persons in the world who took them seriously, and she felt a thrill of satisfaction as she thought of the soft white hair and blue eyes of her fairy godmother.

It was with some difficulty that she was able to reach the sunset tree without being seen. Jack, in penitential mood, and Jean looking for sympathy, followed her everywhere, and it was not till she had robbed a rose bush of its red berry-like seeds and had constructed a wonderful set of dishes, a lamp, and a whole family of people from the berries, that the reward of her ingenuity came to her in the delight of the children over these novel toys and in their content with a corner of the porch for a playroom. After seeing them well established, Nan set off.

"I've dusted the living-room, made my bed, picked up after Jack, and I believe that is all," she told herself. "There's Phil coming, I am thankful to say, so Mary Lee will not tag me." She paid no heed to the question, "Where are you going?" which Mary Lee called after her, but kept on till the barn hid her from sight. She hoped she had not kept her friend waiting and that she would not become impatient and leave, for it was after ten. But as she came up to the tree she saw the sombre little figure sitting quietly there. "I was so afraid you couldn't wait," said Nan breathlessly. "The children were so tiresome and wanted all sorts of things done for them so I couldn't get away before."

"There's plenty of time," replied her friend. "Sit down and cool off; you've come too fast in the hot sun. Tell me about the children."

"Jean is a dear, and Jack can be perfectly fascinating when she chooses. They are the twins, you know. Jack's name is Jacqueline. Aunt Sarah says she was mixed together with more original sin than any of us, and if there hadn't been a lot of angel used in her make up she doesn't know what would become of her. She is simply dear this morning, but yesterday afternoon!" And Nan gave an account of Jack's muddle with the paint.

Her companion laughed. "She must keep you in hot water," she said. "Tell me about Mary Lee."

"Oh, do you know there is a Mary Lee?" said Nan in surprise. "But of course everybody knows us. She is named for our mother, and I am named for papa's sister Nancy Weston who died. We called Jack and Jean after papa. His name was John and Jean is the French for John, only we give it the Scotch pronunciation. Papa was always called Jack and so Jacqueline is called that."

"Yes, I know – I mean I see," returned her companion. "Come, now, shall we go on? Are you ready to be conducted to the place of your desires? You must go blindfolded."

"How lovely! That makes it so deliciously mysterious. I hope I shall not fall and bump my nose."

"I'll take care that you do not. Let me tie this ever your eyes." She drew a soft silken scarf from a bag she held, and made it fast over Nan's eyes. "Can you see?" she asked.

"No, indeed, I can't. Not the leastest little bit."

"Now give me your hands. There, I'll put them around my waist and you will walk just behind me."

Their way was made very cautiously and slowly and at last Nan set foot upon a board floor. "Now I can lead you," said her guide. "One step up, please."

Nan was led along the floor for some distance making one sharp turn, and then was gently forced to a seat. "There," said her guide. "Sit here perfectly still till you hear a bell ring; then you may untie your scarf, but you must not leave the room till I come for you."

Nan sat very still. Presently she heard a light footstep cross the floor, then a door closed and after a few minutes a bell in the distance tinkled softly. Up went her hands and the scarf was withdrawn in a jiffy. She found herself sitting before an open piano. On each side of her were set lighted candles in tall brass candlesticks. Into the room no gleam of daylight made its way. In the shadowy corners were sheeted chairs and sofas and on the wall were covered pictures. Nan recognized the place at once. It was the drawing-room of her grandmother's house and over the mantel must be the very portrait she had once gazed upon with such delight. Now it was screened from view. "I just wonder who in the world she is," exclaimed Nan thinking of her guide. "I'd like to know how she got in here and all about it. Perhaps she is some of our kinsfolk who has come down here to look after something for grandmother. I'm going to ask her."

Having made this decision, she turned her attention to the piano. In spite of long disuse it gave forth mellow and delightful tones as she touched it softly. It seemed very big and important after the little melodeon, but soon the girl gained confidence and became absorbed in writing down her little song which she did note by note, calling each aloud. "I am not sure that it is just right," she said as she concluded her task, "but it is as right as I can make it."

She arose from her seat and tiptoed around the room, lifting the covers from the shrouded furniture and getting glimpses of dim brocade and silky plush. Then she went back to the piano. All was so still in the house that Nan felt the absolute freedom of one without an audience. She touched the keys gently at first, but, gaining confidence and inspiration, went on playing by ear snatches of this and that, becoming perfectly absorbed in the happiness of making melody.

She was so carried away by her performance that she neither saw nor heard the door open and was not aware of any one's presence till a soft voice said: "I declare, the blessed child really has talent."

"Oh!" Nan sprang to her feet. "Were you listening?"