The four Corners

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"Just doing some steps," replied Mary Lee, expertly executing her double shuffle.

"You might have been better employed," returned Aunt Sarah. "It would have been just as well, Mary Lee, if you had been giving some attention to darning your stockings. There is a fine large hole in the knee of one where you scraped it against a tree you were climbing, I suppose. And, Nan, it wouldn't do any harm if you were to see where you left the shirt-waist you took off this morning. We are not Japanese to hang up things on the floor."

"I wish we were," answered Nan. "I'd like to wear kimonos and shoes that slip up and down at the heel, and I'd not mind living in a house made of paper screens."

"Poor protection they'd be to you," replied Aunt Sarah, "for you would punch a hole in every one before a day was over."

Nan was not destructive and considered this an unjust imputation, so she stalked off with her head in the air. She didn't believe but that she had hung up the shirt-waist and that it had slipped down. Aunt Sarah was so particular and was always dinging at her about leaving bureau drawers and closet doors unclosed. When one is in a hurry, how is it possible always to see that everything is just so?

She found the waist not on the floor of the closet, but by the chair where she had laid her clothes the night before. There were some of Jack's belongings, too, strewed around the room, but Mary Lee's and Jean's were carefully put away. Nan hung up the waist and then sat down by the window. Suppose the things in the big house at Uplands had been allowed to lie around helter-skelter, she didn't believe it would look so attractive as she imagined. This brought a new train of thought which she carried out, leaning her arms on the sill, her chin resting upon them till Aunt Sarah's entrance aroused her from her reverie.

"Up in the clouds, I suppose," she exclaimed. "You ought to live in a balloon or a sky-scraper, Nan, you so seldom want to come down to earth. I want you to find Jack and Jean and tell them to come in and get ready for supper."

Nan departed on her errand, smiling to herself in the thought that she had a secret from them all. She was out of sorts with everybody in the house, but to-morrow would be the sunset-tree and Aunt Helen.

She was promptly on hand at the trysting-place the next morning, though finding some difficulty in getting there in time as it seemed that Aunt Sarah had a hundred things for her to do. That she did not dream over them goes without the saying, and Aunt Sarah congratulated herself upon the seeming improvement under her reproofs. Promptly, as Nan appeared, the little figure of her Aunt Helen was seen approaching her. She did not wait for Nan to come up but ran toward her and clasped her in her arms, and Nan gave her as close a hug. Her imagination was strongly appealed to by this relative, so little known and who had chosen such fascinating methods of becoming acquainted.