The four Corners

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"We'll take Macaulay's History of England," said Mary Lee; "it will be the most useful."

The two girls were on their knees before the old bookcase which held mostly old standard works, and few modern books.

"We must have some maps and dictionaries and things," said Nan, clapping the covers of a volume together to beat out the dust. So with maps and books of reference, they established themselves in a quiet corner upon two or three consecutive Saturdays, but at the end of the third Saturday, they found themselves always starting with a sentence which read: "The king had no standing army." Beyond this, they never seemed able to go, mainly because the book to girls of their age meant simply a very dry record, and they found it more interesting to read some anecdote from one of the books of reference, and to talk about what their aunt had told them of England of the present day. Therefore, at last Macaulay was laid aside, and the only fact they remembered reading from the book was that the king had no standing army.

Although Miss Sarah had never set foot across the brook, she tacitly permitted the intercourse between the two families, and even admitted that Miss Helen was not to be included in the censure which she so sweepingly bestowed upon her mother. Of the children's grandmother, she would never speak, and only by a toss of the head and a sarcastic smile did they know that she had not altered her opinion of the elder Mrs. Corner. Every attention or gift the girls received was attributed to the influence of Miss Helen, and Miss Sarah honestly believed that in her opinion she was right.

As for Miss Helen, she never came to her sister-in-law's house. "I am biding my time," she told her mother. "When Mary comes back, I think we shall have matters on a different footing."

"I'm afraid I can never bring myself to going there," sighed Mrs. Corner. "I'm too old to give up all my prejudices, Helen, but I shall try to meet my son's wife half way."

"If I know Mary Gordon Lee," said Helen, "you will not have to go even half way."

And indeed there was no going half way for anybody, as an occurrence soon changed everything for those who lived at Uplands. It took place one night when the winds of March were sweeping through the mountain forests, sighing through the pines in Nan's summer retreat, and uncovering the young pushing blades, already started from the ground down by the brook.

Nan, who was a light sleeper, was startled from her slumbers by the dashing by of engines, and by hearing cries of "Fire!" She slipped out of bed and drew aside the curtains to look out, wondering if the barn on their own place could have caught, but it was beyond the brook that the sky was red and the flames were mounting high. In an instant, she realized where the danger was. She rushed to the boys' door. "Ran, Ran," she cried, banging on the door, "Uplands is on fire!" She stopped to pound on her Aunt Sarah's door. "Uplands is on fire!" she cried. Then she ran back to her own room and slipped on her clothes.

In a few minutes the bolt rattled at Ran's door and he went flying down-stairs, two steps at a time. Then Aunt Sarah appeared in her dressing gown. "What was it you were saying, Nan?" she asked.