CHAPTER XVI PARTY FROCKS
Thanksgiving Day went by quietly; there was little made of it here in Virginia, and the girls would scarcely have remembered it if their mother had not written asking each one to tell her what she was most thankful for. The answers were very characteristic.
Jean wrote: "I am thankful that the wildcat didn't get Phil and Mary Lee, and that Daniella is here. I am thankful that her mother and my mother are both getting better."
Jack wrote: "I am thankful that I don't like rice pudding and that I do like molasses on my batter cakes. I am thankful that old clothes don't last as long as new ones, and that people don't make such a fuss when you get spots on them or tear them. I am thankful I don't get into quite so many scrapes in winter as I do in summer."
Mary Lee's thankfulness was expressed in these words: "I am thankful that little wild creatures have warm holes and nests to creep into. I am thankful that birds can fly south where it is warm.I am thankful we have enough to eat and to keep us comfortable, and I am thankful we do not have to live in a little cabin on the mountain, and dear mother, I am very thankful you are getting better."
Said Nan: "I am thankful, you dearest of mothers, for so many things I don't know how to choose, but first and foremost I am thankful for you. I might as well say, too, that I am thankful for all my kinsfolk, for I am even thankful now for Aunt Sarah, since I had to cook that supper for the boys and since she nursed me so patiently when I broke my arm. I certainly am thankful for Aunt Helen. She is such a dear. You know she is teaching Daniella, and, yes, I am thankful for grandmother, if she is cranky. I am thankful for the whole world, for music, for books, for pictures, for trees and flowers and sky, and even the snow on the ground. It looks so perfectly pure and clean and makes me think of white souls. I am thankful for all these things, but oh, mother, I shall be thankfuller, thankfullest when you get home."
Though the letters eased the mother's loneliness, they brought a rain of tears to her eyes, and filled her with longing to see her four girls. "They are so like them," she murmured. "Each one has written herself so plainly."
Daniella's becoming a part of the household madeless of a change than the girls had expected, for Aunt Sarah managed well, and spread out her economies so that they covered all meals very slightly, and the extras were little missed. When one has rice pudding once a week instead of once in ten days, or when griddle-cakes are served only on Saturdays instead of Wednesdays and Saturdays, it really makes little difference.
However a time did come when the sacrifice loomed up more largely and for a time there were four rather unhappy little girls. It was just after a neat maid left at the door four small white envelopes which, when opened, were discovered to be invitations to a party given by Betty Wise, a little girl who was not an intimate acquaintance, but whom each of the four Corners admired greatly. Betty lived in such a beautiful old house, two hundred years old, and was considered to belong to one of the best families in the county. The grounds around the house were always in beautiful order; Betty herself was the most daintily clad of little maidens, and in church the four girls who sat in a row in the pew behind her gave many a thought to Betty Wise's pretty hats, handsome coats, and the delicate ribbons she always wore on her hair. To be invited to Judge Wise's house was an honor not to be underrated and the four Corners clutchedtheir envelopes and looked at each other with shining eyes.
"Isn't it splendid?" said Nan. "A real sure enough party. I expect it will be perfectly beautiful. It was so perfectly lovely of Betty to invite all four of us."
"It certainly was lovely," sighed Mary Lee, "but, Nan, what are we going to wear?"
Nan's face fell. What indeed? She hastily made an inventory of her last summer's white frocks. Not one that would do. "We can manage something for Jack and Jean, I am sure," she said, "though there isn't one of us has a decent sash, and as for slippers, Jean is the only one who has a pair that will do."
Deep gloom fell upon the little group. The silence was broken by Mary Lee. "We can't ask Aunt Sarah, for we promised that we would not have a single thing new this winter if she would let us have Daniella. I almost wish we had never gone up that old mountain."
"Oh, don't say that, Mary Lee," said Nan. "Just think what would have become of Daniella if we hadn't gone. She might have perished by this time."
"Oh, of course, I don't exactly mean that, but I wish, I almost wish, we had not insisted upon keepingher here." It was so nearly the actual wish at that moment of the other three that no one said a word.
After a pause, Nan drew a long sigh. "Well," she said, "you and I can't possibly go, but perhaps we can fix up the twins. Jean is all right and there is a frock of yours that would do on a pinch for Jack if we can manage slippers. We can look over the stock. She may have grown up to some of our castaways, and even if we should find a pair a little too large, we can stuff cotton in the toes. As for sashes we'll have to look over everything and see what we come across."
"I don't want to go if you don't, so there," said Jack.
"Neither do I," chimed in Jean.
"Oh, but some of us must go. We couldn't be so rude as to decline for all four of us," said Nan. "Besides, I shall want to hear all about it even if I can't go. It is ten days off so I am not going to decline till I have to."
"I suppose there is no use in saying anything to Aunt Sarah about it," said Mary Lee with a glimmer of hope.
Nan shook her head. "No, we must not act as if we were trying to slide out of our promise. I was just thinking that perhaps Cousin Polly couldlend us one or two sashes, and perhaps a pair of slippers; she has such little feet, but she couldn't provide for all of us. She is generous enough but she hasn't enough to go around."
"She could let us have two pairs of slippers if she were a craudruped," said Jean.
"You'd better tell her that," said Nan, laughing.
"Invitations came for Ran and Ashby, too," Mary Lee remarked, "and I suppose Phil has one." Deeper gloom fell upon the group especially when Nan said solemnly: "And the boys will have to know why we can't go."
For the next two or three days, the girls avoided the subject of the party when those of their schoolmates who had received invitations spoke of it. Neither was it mentioned in the presence of the boys. Once in a while one or the other of the four sisters made to the rest some tragic statement such as: "Flossy Garrett is going to wear white China silk." "Lizzie Carter has a new Roman sash," or "Nell Page's sister is going to lend her a lovely locket and chain." Deep sighs and mournful countenances always attended these statements.
With a feeling of proud reserve, Nan never referred to the party when talking to her Aunt Helen. Not for worlds would she so much as hint that she might go if properly costumed; not when thatstore of pretty things still lay untouched and unbestowed.
Jack, however, had no such scruples, and with a distinct purpose and a defiant front, she went one afternoon to Uplands. Seating herself directly in front of her grandmother she observed her solemnly and thoughtfully.
"You seem to be in a brown study this afternoon, Jack," said Mrs. Corner. "What are you thinking about?"
Jack gave a long sigh. "I was thinking how nice it would be if there were really fairies or if there were really enchanted lamps and things like Nan loves to talk about. Anyhow, I wish we could sometimes change places with people."
"And with whom would you change places?" asked her grandmother, ready to encourage her to talk.
"With you," returned Jack.
"With me?" Mrs. Corner looked perfectly astounded, then she sighed. "You'd soon want to change back again, little Jack."
"Oh, I know that. I shouldn't care to be a grandmother for more than an hour."
"But why wish to be a grandmother at all?" Mrs. Corner's curiosity was aroused. She wondered what the little girl's fancy could be. "Do listen tothe child, Helen," she said. "She would like to be her own grandmother."
"Oh, I'd like to be Nan's and Mary Lee's and Jean's, too," Jack told her.
"But why?"
"If I were a grandmother and had four nice little girl grandchildren," Jack went on, "I'd do something or other so they could go to the party at Judge Wise's."
"And why can't they go? What's to prevent?" Mrs. Corner asked.
"No frocks, no sashes, no slippers, no money to buy them with," said Jack, and having delivered herself of this laconic confession, she faced her grandmother with a set expression of countenance. The worst was said.
Mrs. Corner's delicate fingers trembled in the wool she was crocheting.
"Who is giving the party?" said Miss Helen gently. "Tell me all about it, Jack."
"It's to be at Judge Wise's. Betty is going to have it and it certainly will be fine. Maybe Jean and I can go if Cousin Polly's slippers will fit and she will lend us two sashes, but Nan says she and Mary Lee are just obliged and compelled to stay at home because they wouldn't be seen in dowdy old frocks and old high shoes."
A little pink flush burned on Mrs. Corner's cheeks. "Mary Lee has never been near her grandmother," she said. "You could hardly expect me to forget that."
"I wasn't saying anything about your doing things," said Jack ingenuously. "I was only saying what I would do if I were a grandmother and had lovely things put away, and had granddaughters just crazy to go to a party. I shouldn't mind when three of them had been polite if one wouldn't be, and I don't see why they all would have to be done mean on account of one."
Jack sat thoughtfully considering the matter. "I reckon," she said, "Mary Lee is something like you. She wouldn't come here unless you specially asked her, and you wouldn't go to see her unless she specially asked you. If mother were at home she would do something, 'cause mother can do anything; she is as near a fairy that way as any one can be, but you know mother isn't here, and we can't do things ourselves and Aunt Sarah won't. You know," she added, "it's all on account of Daniella. We promised Aunt Sarah if she let us keep Daniella at our house, we wouldn't ask for anything new this winter, and we would wear our old clothes. So, of course, when we promised, we can't change our minds."
"Why did your aunt exact such a promise from you?" asked Mrs. Corner, a little haughtily.
"Oh, because she couldn't afford to have her unless we did. Mother needs all the boys' board money, and Aunt Sarah does as well as she can, Nan says. We have rice pudding only once a week and that really isn't very often."
"Miss Dent is a wonderfully self-sacrificing woman," said Miss Helen in a low voice. "It is entirely due to her willingness to take charge of six children that Mary is able to stay at Saranac."
Mrs. Corner's fingers shook even more as she fingered the wool. Presently she burst out passionately: "I suppose I am an obdurate old woman to let one little child's indifference prevent me from giving happiness to my other grandchildren, but I am made so, Helen; I can't help it. I have yielded in many directions. I have accepted the other three when I said I never would, and I shall meet their mother half way if she ever allows me." She burst into a fit of nervous sobbing, and Jack, scared and awed, slipped away, feeling that she had made matters even worse.
She made no mention to her sisters of her visit to Uplands that day, but it had its effect, as was shown the next morning when a man left at the house a small trunk addressed to Nan. When the girlscame home from school, it stood in the big room they occupied. They gathered around it in astonishment. "Where did it come from? Who brought it? What's in it? Who sent it?" The questions came thick and fast. A key hung by a string to the handle. Nan jerked it off fumbling at the lock in her eagerness. "Do hurry, Nan," cried Jack, impatiently.
"I am hurrying," returned Nan, "and that is just what's the matter." The lock at last yielded and Nan raised the lid amid breathless silence. Over the tray lay a white cloth; upon this a note was pinned. Nan opened it and read it aloud. It was from her Aunt Helen.
"Dear Nan," it read, "mother sends you the gifts which she regrets having withheld from you so long. She really meant to send them at Christmas, but you will not mind if they come earlier. She wishes you to use your own judgment in disposing of them and makes but one proviso, and that is that you willallcome over to Uplands and show yourselves in your party costumes."
Theallwas underscored. Nan looked at Mary Lee. "I'll go," said Mary Lee shortly.
It was a small concession to make, she considered, when the contents of the trunk were displayed and all the dainty fabrics were examined. Such an oh-ingand ah-ing as came from the four delighted girls brought Aunt Sarah from her room, and to her the whole story was told. She made but few remarks but it was evident that she was pleased, and she took almost as great an interest in the pretty things as the girls themselves. At the very bottom of the trunk were two boxes, one marked Nan, the other Jack. One slip of paper read: "To my granddaughter Nancy Weston in recognition of her sweet spirit of forgiveness." The other read: "To brave little Jack who reminded her grandmother of her duty."
"What have you been doing, Jack?" asked Nan, before she removed the lid of her box.
"Nothing," replied Jack in an injured tone, "except to tell her what I would do if I were a grandmother to four nice little girls."
"Oh, Jack, Jack," laughed Nan, shaking her head while her fingers eagerly removed the soft cotton which lay on the top of the box. Then she breathed a delighted "Oh!" as she held up to view a long delicate chain of exquisite pink corals. A squeal from Jack revealed the fact that she had reached her gift which proved to be a slender gold chain with a pendant heart of gold set with turquoises.
Such an Oh-ing and Ah-ing as Came From the Four Delighted Girls
Jack speedily clasped it around her neck. The chain was just long enough for her to be able to see the little heart as it lay against her breast. "Inever, never believed I should ever have anything so dear," she exclaimed. Then she turned and caught her twin sister's hand. "But I won't wear it," she said, "unless you have something, too."
This something, too, was settled upon later when among the strands of Venetian beads was found a string of glistening, opalescent ones which won Jean's heart. Mary Lee's desires went out toward a similar string of blue and silver. As was natural with children, the ornaments were the first things they decided upon, and then they picked out their frocks, Aunt Sarah helping them. Nan chose a soft, silky, creamy fabric daintily embroidered. Mary Lee selected a blue of similar material. For the twins it was decided that pure white would be best. There were ribbons and sashes enough for all, and, to cap the climax, there were several pairs of silk stockings.
Nan rocked back and forth in ecstasy as she sat on the floor surrounded by the stuffs. "It's like a dream," she said. "I can't believe I am awake. Oh, I want to tell mother right away. I feel just like a fairy, I am so light."
"How are we to get the things made?" said Mary Lee, bringing her sister suddenly down to earth.
"Oh, dear, I hadn't thought of that. CousinPolly will help us, I know, and so will Aunt Sarah, and we can do a lot ourselves, like pulling out bastings, and I can stitch on the machine as well as the next."
"We must go right over to Cousin Polly's, then. There isn't a minute to lose."
"You go," said Nan, "and bring her over here. She will be ever so much more interested if she sees everything and I'll leave them all out till she comes."
Not only did Cousin Polly come, but Cousin Mag thought she must see the glories of the trunkful of pretty things. Their enthusiasm was all that the girls could wish, and after ribbons and laces, trinkets and treasures were thoroughly examined, there was grave discussion as to the best way to make up the stuffs, Aunt Sarah entering into it as heartily as any one. Cousin Polly volunteered to make Nan's frock; Cousin Mag said she would undertake Mary Lee's. Aunt Sarah thought she could accomplish one of the others.
"And I am sure Belle Brockenborough will love to do the other," said Polly. "She hasn't a thing on earth to do. I'll ask her to come and stay a week with me and we can sew and chatter and have a good time. Anybody would love to work on such beautiful goods as these."
"Oh, you dear," cried Nan. "I just knew ifanybody could help us, it would be Cousin Polly. Aren't we beautifully supplied with everything?"
"All but slippers," came from Mary Lee.
"Oh, I forgot slippers. I wish we could go in our stocking feet and show off our silk stockings."
"We'll manage slippers somehow," said Polly. "I am sure you can wear mine."
"But you have such little feet," said Nan.
"So have you, and I have one pair a little too large for me, that you are quite welcome to if the others are too small."
In due course of time, all were provided for. The "little too large" pair of slippers exactly fitted Nan. Jean's would do very well as they were. A pair of Mary Lee's which she had grown out of it was found Jack had grown into, and for Mary Lee, Nan's ingenuity at last came to the rescue, for a pair of discolored white kid slippers which had once been her mother's, Nan suggested should be painted blue to match her sister's frock.
The boys wondered at the sudden interest taken in Betty Wise's party, for nothing else was talked of for a week. "You didn't say a word about it at first," said Ran. "What makes you all so wild about it all of a sudden?"
"Oh, we didn't know what we were going towear," Nan remarked nonchalantly, and the others giggled.
However, they could not keep the presents a secret, as Phil knew about them, and finally Nan told Ran the whole story, ending with: "We're just like girls in a book, aren't we?"
"You're the nicest girl in a book or out of it," returned Ran, gallantly. "I'm going to the party with you, Nan, and I want you to dance with me a lot."
"All right," said Nan, delighted at the compliment and pleased at the thought that she and her sisters would not be outdone by any of the girls in matters of dress or attention.
The last stitch was set the day before the party, and in full regalia the four sisters went to display themselves to their grandmother. There was a little embarrassment as Mary Lee came forward and Nan said: "This is Mary Lee, grandmother."
But Mary Lee, full of a realizing sense of her grandmother's generosity and completely happy in her pretty clothes, smiled sweetly and said: "I am very glad to see you, grandmother. You were very kind to send us all those lovely things."
Mrs. Corner responded quite graciously. She was proud and pleased when she viewed the four "nice little girls" who certainly did her credit and whosedelight in her gifts was so very obvious. Their appreciation and pleasure gave her a warm glow of satisfaction, and she was never more delightfully entertaining. To add to the success of their visit, Miss Helen took a photograph of each one, promising them prints to send to their mother.
The party was all that their fancy had painted. Not any one was better dressed than the Corners. No one had a better time. Betty made a charming hostess; the great old house was a bower of beauty; the music was inspiring, the refreshments delicious and prettily served.
"It was the very grandest party I ever dreamed of," said Nan at breakfast, and all agreed with her, even Ran who had been to more parties than the rest and was supposed to know.
Although the girls, in after years, went to many more sumptuous and brilliant entertainments, all their lives long they looked back upon Betty Wise's party as the one which stood out from all the rest. "There was just one thing wanting," sighed Nan to her Aunt Helen. "If only mother could have seen us, I should have been perfectly happy. What in the world shall we do without her at Christmas?"
CHAPTER XVII CHRISTMAS GIFTS
A new world had opened to Daniella Boggs. Every day of her stay with the Corners some strange and surprising fact became known to her. The girls were a revelation in themselves, and their appearance when they were dressed for the party gave her a glimpse into scenes of which she had never even dreamed. She was taught more than words and figures by Miss Helen, and her young mind was daily expanding, so that she became more and more interesting to her teacher as well as her friends. Mrs. Boggs was slowly recovering from her hurts, and the doctor thought in a few weeks she would be able to leave the hospital. Old Daniel Boggs, however, failed visibly. Just what his daughter-in-law would do in the event of his death gave every one concern. It was learned that Mrs. Boggs had a brother in Texas and to him Colonel Lewis had written. All Daniella's friends were interested to know what answer would be made to this letter.
"Christmas is very near," said Nan the Saturday after the party. "We shall have to make everythingthis year, but fortunately there are plenty of materials yet in grandmother's trunk."
"And there are the photographs," said Mary Lee.
"Yes, and I mean to frame those," Nan told her. "That can be my Christmas gift to mother. You sew so nicely, Mary Lee, you can make her a set of collars and cuffs."
"And what shall I make?" asked Jean.
"Why, kitty, let me see. You can make a pretty little work-bag. It will be easy to make and there's a lovely piece of silk in the trunk."
Jack was sitting with folded hands thinking deeply. After a while she drew a long breath of relief. "I'm going to give her my locket and chain," she announced.
"Why, ducky dear," said Nan. "She couldn't wear it for it would be too small for her, and, besides, one shouldn't give away a particular present like that."
"But it's the prettiest thing I've got," persisted Jack, "and she can look at it, anyhow."
"But mother wouldn't want you to give it to her," Nan went on. "She'd much rather you'd make something for her. Let me see—suppose you make a——"
"I don't think I'll make anything," interruptedJack. "If I can't send her the chain I'll send her my silk stockings."
"You ridiculous child! What on earth could mother do with them?"
"She could look at them."
"You're a goosey goose," said Nan, affectionately, drawing Jack to her. "You must give her something appropriate, not anything like that. Oh, I know what you can do. It will be fine. I almost wish I had thought of it for myself. You can give her one of those calendars like Aunt Helen has. It will be just the thing. All you have to do is to get three hundred and sixty-five sheets of paper and take a certain number to each person whom you select; then the person writes a verse, or a selection or a—a—thought and signs her name. You tie them all together and put a cover on and it makes the nicest thing in the world for any one away from her friends."
"Where shall I get the paper?" said Jack.
Nan had not thought of this part. "Why, I think maybe there is some in one of the boxes in the attic," she said reflectively; "I will look."
The idea of a calendar pleased Jack. The taking around of the slips was just what she would like to do. "What shall we have on the cover?" she asked presently.
Nan's ingenuity again came to fill the breach. "A photograph of this house would be fine. Ran took a real good one, and I know he'd be glad to give a print for the calendar. Now we have got to plan for everybody else; there are so many this year."
"There is Aunt Sarah," said Jean.
"And Daniella," put in Mary Lee.
"And Mrs. Boggs," Jack reminded them.
"And the boys." Jean mentioned these.
"And Cousin Polly," added Nan. "She was so lovely about the party frocks that we ought to give her something very nice."
"Miss Belle Brockenborough was, too," said Jean.
"Of course, we must remember her and Cousin Mag. Do you suppose we'd better make something for grandmother and Aunt Helen?" Nan asked with an air of gravity.
"Not from the things they sent," said Mary Lee.
"No, but we could make some little things; we must do it. Then there is Unc' Landy and Mitty besides the Sunday-school teachers and——"
"Miss Lawrence," put in Jean.
Jack made a face at this last suggestion.
"Now, Jack," Nan reproved her.
"If she hadn't such big ears, I wouldn't mind so much," said Jack, "but they stick out so and shehas a way with her mouth that always makes me mad."
"Never mind; she is very good to you and has stood much more than most teachers would. I'll tell you what, Mary Lee, we'll make a lot of panuchee and take a box to each of the teachers. Every one says our black walnut panuchee is the best they ever ate."
"Miss Lawrence asked me for the recipe," said Mary Lee; "I hope I got it just right: a pound and a half of brown sugar, three quarters of a cup of milk, about a quarter of a pound of butter, and a lot of chopped nuts. Melt the sugar and milk; let it boil twenty minutes, add the butter and nuts, beat for about five minutes till it gets real sugary and then pour in pans or make it into little cakes by dropping from a spoon. Is that right?"
"That is it," Nan told her. "We might make two or three kinds. I like peanut myself."
"Now have we thought of everybody?" asked Mary Lee.
"We haven't thought of each other," said Jack.
Nan laughed. "That makes three more apiece. How they do count up. We can leave one another till the last minute because we are right in the house. What shall you give Daniella, Mary Lee?"
"I thought maybe we could find a hair ribbon inthe trunk. She has never had one and thinks they are so fine. They cost too much when you have to buy them."
Nan approved of this. "I want to give her something real frivolous that no one else would give her," she said. "I know lots of people will think of her and will send her useful things. Let's look over what's in the trunk and pick out what we will use. Maybe I can find something there, too."
This suggestion was met with universal approval, and the four clattered up-stairs. This was the time of day when Daniella went to see her mother at the hospital and when Aunt Sarah was busy in the kitchen. The four sisters gathered around the little trunk which still held many pretty odds and ends as yet unused. Nan did the rummaging.
"There, Jean," she said, tossing out a piece of flowered silk; "that will do for mother's bag."
"Isn't it a lovely craulity?" said Jean, smoothing out the silk.
"Here are some ends of ribbon that will do for the strings," said Nan, dragging out some lengths of lavender. "Oh, oh, this is exactly what I will give to Daniella; these red beads. She will love them, and we have plenty. There are more here. We can give a string to Cousin Polly, these queer-looking ones will just do for her; she loves easternylooking things. And oh, Mary Lee, we can use some of this Florentine orris and make a sachet for Miss Belle. Here is some perfectly lovely lace. What shall we do with it?"
"Make some sort of stock or something for Aunt Sarah, and if there is enough, one for Cousin Mag."
"Just the ticket," cried Nan; "you're a dabster, Mary Lee. Suppose you get a paper and pencil and put down the things and the person's names as we make up our minds about them; then we won't forget what is for each."
Mary Lee liked to make lists and she was quick to follow out this plan. "Three boxes of panuchee for the three teachers," she read off. "Stocks of lace for Aunt Sarah and Cousin Mag; beads, Polly; beads, Daniella; sachet, Miss Belle. I think mother ought to have a lace collar and cuffs, Nan; she ought to have the best."
"Of course. Well, here's this narrower lace; we could sew it on some thin stuff and make the collars for the others and give mother the handsome lace. Oh, dear, every one's present to mother will be better than mine. Maybe I can think of something else for her. I think each of us should give Aunt Sarah something, and I believe I will make a work-bag out of this." She spread out a piece of silk on her lap. "Now, what next? Here areseveral hat-pins, six of them; we could give this amethyst looking one to Aunt Sarah, Jean can give that and Jack can give her—can give her——" Nan went on rummaging, "this dear little box. I'd like it myself but I'll give it up to Aunt Sarah. It has Sorrento on it, so it must have come from there. This trunk is like somebody's bag—who was it that had a purse or a bag or whatever it was, that never failed?"
"Fortunatus, you mean." Mary Lee gave the information.
"Yes, he is the person. Who is left on the list, Mary Lee?"
"Let me see. Mrs. Boggs, the boys, Mitty and Unc' Landy, ourselves, Aunt Helen and grandmother, if you say so."
Nan swept something from the trunk and hid it behind her. "I've something for you," she sang out.
"That's not fair," said Mary Lee, in an aggrieved tone. "You are right there and can pick out anything."
"Well," spoke up Jack, "grandmother sent it all to her."
"That's so, I forgot that," said Mary Lee, abashed.
"You know perfectly well that I wouldn't takeanything unless the rest of you had share and share alike," said Nan, "and I'll tell you what we'll do; each one shall have a pick in turn: three grabs apiece and if we can't find anything we like we shall have to make something. How will that do?"
All agreed that this was not only fair but generous and one after another was sent out of the room while the choice for her was being made, and at last Nan shut the trunk and shoved it under the bed. "Hasn't it been fun?" she said. "I do feel so grateful to grandmother for sending over that trunk. Think what has come out of it. We never in the world could have given half the Christmas gifts nor nearly such nice ones. What shall we give the boys, Mary Lee?"
"I suppose they'd as soon have panuchee as anything."
"We can't all give them panuchee; they'll be ill if we do."
"Then we'll have to think up something; we've done enough planning for one day."
"I'm more bothered about Aunt Helen and grandmother than any one just now, to tell you the truth."
"One of them can have panuchee."
"Oh, Mary Lee, we aren't going to set up a candy factory."
"I know, but two or three goes of it will make enough to give a lot of people and everybody likes it."
"Well, as you say, we have done enough planning for one day. I am going over to see Aunt Helen now. I want to tell her what fun we had over the trunk and besides I know she will have some ideas for Christmas."
Each girl carried off her treasures and Nan set out for Uplands, but, before she had gone far, she came rushing back, rummaged for paper and pencil and started forth again wearing what was called the family cloak. This was a dark red golf cape which was worn indiscriminately by all the members of the family from Aunt Sarah down. The pointed hood upon it could be taken off, by unbuttoning it, and made a convenient pouch for the wearer who wished to bring home any chance spoils gathered by the way, so the cloak was always in demand.
It was a brisk winter's day, but too cold for a stop at Place o' Pines, though Nan turned aside to peep into her old shelter. As she turned from the spot, she gave a gleeful skip. "Joy, joy," she cried, "I have an idea!"
"So glad," said some one near her. "Where are you going, West Corner?" This was Ran'sfavorite name for her and it was he as she well knew.
"I am going to Uplands, but I came around this way to look for some little wee pine cones."
Ran appeared from behind a tree where he had been in hiding. "What are you going to do with little pine cones?" he asked.
"I want to use them on a picture frame for mother's Christmas gift. I have seen real pretty frames made of them. We shall have to get mother's Christmas box ready first and we have none too much time. We have been having lots of fun, Ran, planning out the presents we shall give. It will be rather a forlorn Christmas, I am afraid, with all we can do, for there will be no mother and you boys will not be here."
"That's where you are mistaken," said Ran soberly. "We shall be here. We are not going home after all."
"You're not? Oh, dear, I'm so sorry for you, though I am glad we shall be able to keep you; the more the merrier, you know. What is the matter at home, Ran?"
"My little sister, Leila, has scarlet fever, and, as soon as she is well enough, they are going to take her to Florida. That lets us out of any holiday at home either way. Father and mother wouldn'twant us to be exposed to the danger of taking the fever, and, if Leila gets well before Christmas, they will leave anyhow."
"Isn't it just too bad? Well, we must try to have as jolly a time as we can. We are in something the same box, for we must do without our mother, too. There will be all sorts of parties and things going on in town, so maybe you will enjoy yourselves more than you think; still I am very sorry for you. Christmas anywhere except in one's own home and with one's own family can't help being sort of dreary."
Such sweet sympathy was consoling and Ran helped her to look for the pine cones which she put in the hood of her cloak to carry away. He promised to help her with the wooden framework upon which she was to glue the cones, and suggested a quadruple frame which would look more important than four small ones.
"But the glass will be harder to get," said Nan. "I have some old photograph plates that I was going to clean off and use for the small frames. Ammonia cleans them beautifully."
"I'll attend to getting the glass for you," promised Ran. "I know where there is a piece of glass that will just do." The glass was at the one frame-maker's in town and Ran meant to buy it, but hedid not tell Nan so, knowing she would object. Nan told him about Jack's calendar and he offered not only to furnish the photograph they wanted but to take several more of interiors which could be scattered through the pages to give comfort and pleasure to the absent mother.
Never before had Ran been so kind and interested and when he left her at her grandmother's door Nan said: "I always wanted an older brother, Ran, to do just the things for me that you are going to do. It is a real comfort to know you are going to be here all through the holidays."
Her Aunt Helen gave her the warm greeting with which she always met this niece for whom she daily felt a deeper affection. Nan was so graciously appreciative, so winsomely enthusiastic, so spontaneously affectionate, that her aunt felt that of all her nieces she must always love her best. Nan first told of the pleasure they had been having in looking over and dividing the remaining articles of the trunk, and then she said, "There are two or three things I want to consult you about, Aunt Helen. We ought and want to give something to the boys, but boys are so hard to get things for, and when one has no money——" She stopped short with a blush. Never, except by accident, did she refer to this fact in the presence of her aunt and grandmother."I mean," she went on, "it is much nicer to make something unless you can really buy something worth while, as mother says. There are four of us and there are two boys; that makes eight presents, you see."
"Truly that is quite a number to think of," said her aunt.
"Yes, it is. Mary Lee is going to give each of them a box of panuchee—I don't know what we should do this year if we didn't know how to make it—so that leaves six."
"We shall have to put on our thinking-caps," said Miss Helen, meditatively. "You could make a twine ball, for one thing; that is cheap and easy and boys always are glad of string."
"But it takes a ball of twine."
"I have several and shall be pleased to present you with a couple."
"But——"
"No buts, please, dear; it is such a very little thing."
"Oh, very well," Nan replied weakly, seeing it would hurt her aunt to refuse.
"Then I am sure there must be a silk handkerchief in that trunk."
"Of course there is. I never thought of that,and I saw it only to-day. Why that is half the eight already."
"Then—let me see—did you ever see a devil penwiper made from a wishbone? I'll show you how to make one. It costs nothing and that makes five, you see. I think a blotter always does very well to give a schoolboy."
Nan sighed. There would be blotting paper to be bought. Her aunt read her thought and did not insist upon this. "A burnt match-receiver can be easily made," she went on, "and it is nice to give things for a boy's room when he is away from home. There is a kind that is made by crocheting a cover over a goblet from which the stem has been broken."
"I am sure we can get that easily enough," laughed Nan. "I suppose worsted will do for the crocheted part, and I have some of that."
"Worsted is the proper thing. It will make a nice, useful present."
"There are only two more and they can be something very simple for the twins to give."
"Then a couple of little calendars will do. Two or three have come to us from advertising houses. We'll take off the advertisement and put the calendars on pretty cards. There are some in the trunk,aren't there? So now you have every one supplied."
"I knew you would help us out, you dearest Aunt Helen. Now, there is one thing more, and this is my own secret. I am going to give mother the photographs in a frame that I am going to make myself, though Ran will help me, but the others have so much nicer things and I would like to send her something that comes right from myself, from my inside heart, so"—she hesitated a moment. "You know," she went on shyly, "you said long ago you thought my little tune wasn't so bad and I thought I'd try to write some words that would go with the tune. Would you mind very much helping me a little to get it all right?"
"Why, darling girl, of course I shall be delighted to give you any help within my power, and it is a lovely thought, one I am sure your mother will appreciate."
"I thought of the beginning while I was coming over here, and I went back to get a paper and pencil, but Ran came along and I didn't have a chance to write it down."
"Should you like to do it now? You can come right up into my room, if you like. Not a soul will disturb you, and, unless you would rather bealone, I will sit there and you can consult me or not as you like."
"Oh, I'd like to consult you; that is what I really want to do; and I'm sure to be able to write what I want when I am in your lovely room."
"Let us go up then."
For some time Nan scribbled away while Miss Helen busied herself with some embroidery. Once or twice the writer asked a question. "Doesazurerhyme withto her, Aunt Helen?"
"Scarcely," was the reply.
"Then I won't try to make it." And Nan went on, "Do you spell scanned with onenor two?" she asked after a while.
"With two, dear."
Nan set to work again. After a time she looked up anxiously. "Doescheapsound very badly in a poem?"
"It depends. I can tell better when I see."
"I'll have to leave it," said Nan. "There isn't any other word that will rhyme and make sense. There, that's the very best I can do." She brought her paper to her aunt who read the following: