The four Corners

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"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.