The Four Corners

He was a gentle looking man, with iron-gray hair, rather an unseeing expression, and an absent manner; but, when he was talking of music, his face lighted up, and his eyes lost their dreamy look. He greeted Nan kindly, holding her hand a moment and patting it. Then he went to the piano, and for an hour Nan sat spellbound.

Into what regions of delight was she plunged. She followed marching armies, she danced with fairies; she wept over lost lovers; she watched fleeting shadows; she trod a land of spring-time and flowers. Mrs. Corner had purposely placed her where she could watch her, and within the musician's line of vision. Once in a while he gave a glance at the rapt countenance and nodded significantly at Miss Helen. Finally when the last note of the "Moonlight Sonata" had ceased to vibrate, Mr. Harmer turned to Nan. "Now," he said, "I want to hear this little girl play."

Nan almost jumped from her seat in surprise. "Me?" she exclaimed, with a startled look from one to another.

"Yes, you, my dear," said her grandmother. "I am very anxious that Mr. Harmer should hear what you can do. You are able to use your arm freely now. I'd like you, too, to show Mr. Harmer the little song you have written."

There was something in Mrs. Corner's manner that admitted no denial of her wishes, though Nan faltered out that she had never taken lessons, that she knew only a very, very little about notes and time.

"We all know that," said Mrs. Corner. "We do not expect wonders, Nancy."

So Nan got up. As she passed her Aunt Helen, she detained her, whispering, "Play that little air you were trying that day I first heard you."

Nan nodded. Her hands were cold, her face flushed, never had she gone through such an ordeal. Yet she knew she must do her best and somehow the mere pleasure of making music took from her all fear after the first few weak notes. She played through the little air her aunt had heard, with taste and expression. A soft clapping of hands rewarded her.

Mr. Harmer nodded approvingly at Mrs. Corner. "Come here, my dear," he said to Nan. He took her hand and looked at the long, slim fingers. "Do you love music well enough to work very hard, to give up play when you ought to practice dull exercises, to study patiently and long?"

"I think so. I know so," said Nan, earnestly. "I'd do anything to be able to play as you do."

Mr. Harmer smiled. "I think you needn't hesitate, Mrs. Corner," he said. "Now, where's that song you were telling me of?" Nan reluctantly brought it. Mr. Harmer looked it over without a comment. "Do you make many tunes?" he said.

"Oh, yes," returned Nan. "I make them all the time. Sometimes I forget them very soon, and sometimes they stay in my head and come back again and again."

Mr. Harmer nodded. "Thank you, my dear. It is a pleasure to meet such a little music lover."

He went back to the piano and was playing a wonderful nocturne when Ran called to take Nan home. Her grandmother kissed her good-night with unusual warmth, her Aunt Helen hugged her and Mr. Harmer shook hands cordially, saying he hoped to live to see her a fine pianist. So Nan went home with a glow in her heart and a faint little hope that her grandmother would let her come there sometimes to play.

The question of presents for her grandmother and Aunt Helen remained unsettled till the very day before Christmas, but as the children had been very industrious with their other presents and the box to their mother had been sent, there was little left for them to do but to trim the tree, which the boys had cut the day before, and which was standing in its spicy greenness in the corner of the living-room. "If we only had the things, we could make a fine cake," said Nan. "We have eggs enough, but Aunt Sarah says we can't afford the butter; it is so high this time of year. I have decided to take Aunt Helen my palm. It is looking fine."

"Oh, but Nan, you are so fond of it, and Mrs. Wise sent it to you," said Jack.

"I know, but I must give her something I am very fond of, for she has been so perfectly dear to me." It was quite true that the palm was dear to Nan. It represented a sort of tropical luxuriance in which she delighted. She loved the outline of its shadows, the tracery of the pointed leaves against the window curtain, and its general aspect as it stood in one of the front windows of the living-room. To give it up was really a sacrifice, but one she made willingly.

At this moment Mary Lee came in. "Cousin Polly wants to know if you have time to come over there for a few minutes," she said to Nan.

"Of course I have," was the reply. "I'm so glad we were not lazy over making our things for Christmas, for now they are all done and even tied up, so it makes me feel so free and ready to get excited wondering what I will get myself." She ran singing down the walk, the red golf cape around her. "Heigho, Polly!" she cried as she went in. "Busy?"

"Oh, my dear, I'm up to my eyes, and I did so want to make some panuchee for father; he simply loves the kind with peanuts in it, but I haven't time to make it; I don't suppose you have either."

"Why yes, I have. We've really nothing to do but trim the tree, and that we are going to do to-night, we older ones, though I should like mighty well to make a cake for grandmother. It would be mighty nice if we four girls could do each a part, but alas, butter is high. We went without for a week so as to have some for our panuchee, we had the nuts and Aunt Sarah gave us the sugar, but cake is a little beyond our means. One day's going without butter wouldn't make even one cupful."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Polly stopping her work for a moment. "If you will make my panuchee, I'll give you all the materials for your cake."

"Done!" cried Nan. "It's a bargain. Shall I make it here or at home?"

"I don't care so long as it is done."

"Then I'll do it at home, for I am more used to our own pots and pans. I suppose," she added, "you won't mind if I use the scrapings for wages, that's what we generally do."

"What do you mean, Nan Corner?"

"Why, we get the twins to shell the peanuts and pay them for it with the scrapings and the raggedy pieces when the stuff is done."

"You are quite welcome to that and a good fat piece for each of you besides. Tell me what you want for your cake, and I'll send Phil over with your materials and mine."

"I'd like to make a lady cake; grandmother is such a lady, and then, too, the egg yolks can be used for something else, so it will be more economical."

"You are a regular old woman with your economical ways," said Polly, going to the pantry. "I'll send everything, Nan, even the flavoring extract and mother's recipe which can't be beat. It's the baking that is the most important part, remember."

"Oh, Aunt Sarah will help with that even if it is for grandmother. She would never be happy to see good materials spoiled." And Nan went off well pleased with her bargain.

The candy was first made and then they set to work on the cake. Mary Lee beat the eggs, Jack and Jean creamed the butter and sugar together, Nan added the other ingredients and all gave a final stir, and, in spite of the saying that "too many cooks spoil the broth," the cake turned out beautifully. Aunt Sarah showed them how to ice it and to stick walnut meats on top, so that it was a most delectable piece of cookery when it was done, and Daniella, who took a great interest in the performance, looked at it with great admiration.

All these Christmas preparations were a novelty to the little mountain girl, but they celebrated but one event in her mind and that was the recovery of her mother, for Mrs. Boggs was to leave the hospital the next day and take dinner with the Corners.

"I know what we can take Aunt Helen," said Jack, as they were hanging wreaths in the living-room; "we'll make some wreaths to take to her; we've such a lot of greens and she'll like them."

The rest agreed that this was a very good suggestion, and they set to work on them, Daniella helping them, so that a half dozen pretty wreaths with cheerful red holly berries set in them, were soon ready and the big tree in the corner alone needed the attention of their busy fingers.

"Daniella has never seen a Christmas tree," said Mary Lee, "and she mustn't help. Wait till to-morrow morning, Daniella, and you will see how pretty we've made it. You don't mind waiting, do you? Jack and Jean aren't going to help either."

"I don't mind nothin' – anythin', I mean," said Daniella, who was improving under association and direction. "I'm real happy even if po' ole grandad ain't hyah. He's havin' a better time'n we could give him, maw says, an' he got so foolish an' helpless, maw says he lef' us long ago."

"I reckon that's true," said Nan, soberly, "and you can't help being thankful and glad when you have your mother. I only wish our dear blessed mother was here. I can't bear to think of Christmas without her, and I just plunge along into whatever comes without stopping to think."

"I'm glad there's going to be one mother here," remarked Jack.

If upon Christmas morning, something was missed by the four Corners, it was a time of wonder and delight to Daniella. Never in all her after life did she forget the odor of the burning candles mixed with the fragrance of the fir tree and the sweet, appetizing, spicy smell of the gingerbread man, the nutty candies and the orange she found in her stocking. Never did she forget how they all stood around the tree in the semi-darkened room whose only light came from the candles, and sang, "Hark the herald angels sing." Never did she forget the wonder and pleasure on her mother's pale face that day at dinner. She surprised her friends with gifts. To Nan was given the little pig, to each of the others a hen and to Miss Sarah's share fell the one rooster. "I want you-alls to hev somethin' to remember me by," she said a little shamefacedly.

"We'll never forget you," said the girls in chorus. "And you'd better not forget us," added Jack.

Daniella gave her one look. "I ain't likely," she said.

If Daniella was made happy, Nan's Christmas joy exceeded that of any one else, for shortly after breakfast a wagon stopped at the gate.

"Here comes the expressman," sang out Jean, "and the wagon's coming in the gate. They hardly ever do that. Oh, Nan, what a great big box."

Nan came to the window daintily nibbling a chocolate from the box Ran had given her. He had supplied each of the girls with delicious candies. "It is a big box," she said. "I wonder what is in it, and where it is going. I'll go to the door and take the package."

"So'll I go," declared Jean who was anxious to see.

"It isn't express after all," said Nan; "it's the wagon that brings freight."

"Miss Nancy Corner?" said the man. "Here's your way-bill."

Nan took the paper the man held out. "Where's the package?" she asked.

"Where is it? You'd better ask. You've got the biggest present in town this day. It takes four of us to handle it. Where'll you have it?"