"Not so very well, though better than yesterday," replied the lady, seating herself.
"You ought to take Junipy Tar," said Jack, solicitously; "that is what Unc' Landy takes when he isn't well." She supposed this a remedy specially fitted to the needs of the aged.
Mrs. Corner thanked her, smilingly, her amusement increasing.
"Did you have a pleasant journey?" asked Jack, racking her brain for a proper subject.
"You mean across the ocean? Only fairly so. I am not a very good sailor."
Jack looked at her in surprise. "Oh," she said, "I didn't know ladies ever were sailors, and I am sure they would never make good ones; their skirts must get so in the way when they climb the ropes. I suppose you never went up as far as the main-top-gallant mast."
"No, never," returned Mrs. Corner, laughing outright. Jack could not understand her amusement and changed the subject.
"Do you like dogs?" she asked.
"Very much."
"We have one; his name is Trouble. We like him but Ran says he wouldn't take a prize at a bench show. I don't see why dogs should take prizes at bench shows; I should think it would be only benches, the biggest bench or the prettiest bench or the one made by the youngest child like they give prizes at the fair. Don't you love fairs? I do. I like the pink lemonade best of all and the prize packages of candy. Once I got a real sure enough diamond ring, but it was too big for me and I lost it. Jean likes the pop-corn and the gingerbread the best. What do you like?"
"I think," said Mrs. Corner, "that I like seeing the people as well as anything."
"I do sometimes, but I don't always. Once we all went to the circus and Jean dropped her hat between the benches. I crawled under to get it, and every time I tried to get out some one stepped on my head; I thought I'd have to stay there forever. It was awful."
"It must have been."
"Is it ten minutes yet? I don't suppose I ought to stay more than ten minutes at a first call, ought I? Cousin Polly says that is long enough."
"I think persons often do stay longer." Mrs. Corner was too greatly entertained to want to get rid of her guest. "I am sure I shall be delighted if you will stay," she went on as she rose to ring the bell. "Bring some cake and some of that currant shrub that Mrs. Southall sent me," she told the maid, and Jack was glad she had mentioned the pink lemonade. "I want to offer you some refreshment, Miss Jacqueline," said her grandmother.
"Thank you," said Jack, promptly sitting down again. "Nobody ever calls me Jacqueline; it's always Jack. When Nan and I are grown we are going to call ourselves Nannette and Jacqueline, not Nan and Jack, but mother says she wants me always to be called Jack after my father. He was your son, wasn't he?"
The amused look faded from Mrs. Corner's eyes. "He was my only son and no one can take his place. No one knows how terribly I miss him."
"Well," said Jack, forgetting to be propitiatory, and somehow resenting this speech, "I'm sure we couldn't ever get a new father any more than you could get a new son, and I reckon my mother misses him as much as you do."
Mrs. Corner looked startled. "I suppose so; I suppose so," she murmured. "It is true that others have claims."
Jack did not quite take this in but she followed up her speech by adding: "I suppose you missed your husband when he died, didn't you?"
"Oh, child, child, what are you saying?" said her grandmother in a tremulous voice.
Jack regretted this remark seeing her grandmother's agitation. "I don't suppose I ought to have said that. Was it impolite?" she asked. "I wanted to be very polite."
"Why?"
"Oh, because I – " she hesitated. "I must go now. I have finished the party; it was very nice indeed."
Mrs. Corner looked at her with sudden suspicion. "Did Nancy send you over here?" she said.
"Nobody sent me. I didn't tell any one I was coming."
"Why did you come then?"
"Why to see you. Didn't the servant tell you? Didn't she give you my card?"
"Oh, yes." Mrs. Corner's face cleared. "I am glad you came of your own accord. I have enjoyed your call immensely."
"Thank you. Ought I to say Mrs. Corner or grandmother?"
"Grandmother would please me best."
"Then, good-bye, grandmother. I've had a charming time."
"Then, please come again."
"I'd be delighted, I'm sure." Her company manners were in full swing, and she went out after a gracious smile and bow.
"The droll little creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Corner. "I must tell Helen about her. I want to know them all. They interest me." So Jack's call was not without effect.
CHAPTER XII
NUTS
With her usual compliance, Jean consented to go to call upon her grandmother though Mary Lee obstinately refused to make any overtures. Children often have very strong prejudices and are even more determined in their refusal to give them up than are their elders. Mary Lee felt quite virtuous in her decision not to make friends with her relatives and often berated Nan for having no backbone and for influencing Jack. Jean, however, had been won over by her twin who descanted upon the deliciousness of the refreshments offered her and upon the pretty things their grandmother might give them.
"You see," said Jack to Jean in arguing the matter, "we must be polite to our elders, Aunt Sarah says, and I think we ought to be very, very nice to our grandmother because she is old. I shouldn't wonder if she were the oldest person we know."
"Not as old as Unc' Landy," said Jean.
"No, of course not; he is older than anybody, but he doesn't count," returned Jack.
"I think we might take grandmother one of the kittens," said Jean with sudden inspiration. Lady Gray had recently given them the surprise of a family of four lovely kittens. Aunt Sarah had said most positively that they could keep only one, although they had all insisted that one apiece would exactly agree to the number, but Aunt Sarah was firm and the two elder girls had given way to the younger ones who had each selected the one she preferred and now it was a matter of continual dispute as to which was to be finally kept. A third kitten was promised to Phil, and Mitty had declared that she knew of a good home for the fourth.
"You see," said Jean, "if the kitten lived at Uplands we could see it often. We could even borrow it sometimes to play with ours."
"We'll take them both over," decided Jack, "and let her choose one, then we won't have to quarrel any more over them, for that will settle it."
They started off each with a wee, mewing kitten, and were duly announced as Miss Jacqueline and Miss Jean Corner, though this time their Aunt Helen was at home and they were not ushered into the drawing-room but into the library, and from thence were conducted up-stairs to their grandmother's room.
"Well, young ladies," said Mrs. Corner, "I am glad to see you. So this is Jean. She looks more like the Lees than Nancy and Jack. What have you there, my dears?"
"We have brought you a kitten," spoke up Jack. "We brought two so you could take your choice, for it is really very hard to tell which of them all is the prettiest. We let Phil take his choice first and we left the ugliest for Mitty, though that one is really very pretty, but not quite so lovely as these."
"It is very kind of you to want me to have the best," said Mrs. Corner. "Which do you consider the prettier?"
"I like this one," said Jack, displaying a furry gray ball from which issued a protesting mew as Jack held it up.
"And I like this," said Jean, more discreetly holding her kitten in her lap. "It has white feet and a white shirt front. Jack's is all gray. Mine is named Rubaiyat; we call it Ruby."
"And mine," said Jack gravely, "is Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz. It's a Bible name. Baz ought to be very good."
"What extraordinary names!" exclaimed Mrs. Corner.
"Ruby is named after the 'Rubaiyat of a Persian Kitten,' for Lady Gray is a Persian, you know. Ran named them and he said we could call Jean's, Ruby, and mine Baz. He says that Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz just suits a cat for he found out what it means and it means 'the spoil hastens; the prey speeds.'"
"Helen, did you ever know such droll children?" said Mrs. Corner laughing.
"Would you like to look at them closer?" said Jack. "Their claws are very briery like blackberry bushes, but they really don't scratch unless you don't know how to hold them. I'll put them in your lap and you can see how sweet and dear they are."
"They certainly are beauties," said Mrs. Corner, admiringly. "Don't you think we would enjoy having one, Helen?"
"Most decidedly," said Miss Helen, "and of the two I think Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz charms me the most. He is a darling."
Jack gave a long sigh. "I just knew you'd say that."
"Would you rather keep this one, then?" asked Miss Helen.
"Oh, yes," said Jack.
"Oh, no," said Jean.
The ladies laughed. "Then suppose you don't give either away," said Mrs. Corner.
"We can't keep but one, you know. Aunt Sarah said so," Jean told them. "And we'd rather you'd have one than anybody."
"Then we'll take the gray one gladly and are very much obliged to you for thinking of bringing us such a beautiful and valuable pet," Mrs. Corner told them. "Haven't we some cake or something for these little girls, Helen?" she asked.
Miss Helen thought so and they were presently regaled upon delicious cake and some sort of curious drink that tasted like currant jelly and mint. It was a beautiful red color and Jack thought it was better than the pink lemonade at the County Fair.
While they were eating and drinking, Miss Helen left them to bring back to each some odd little green dishes which she said she had found in Holland. The children were delighted with the curiously shaped pots and pans, the pitchers and tea-pots, and bore them off in triumph, Jack feeling less regret at leaving her kitten since in return she had these queer little dishes.
She displayed them in high glee to Nan who was surprised and pleased that such an interest had been shown in her little sisters. If only Mary Lee would not be so offish, all might be pleasant between the two households, she thought, and – though this she only secretly admitted – they might still share the delights of those beautiful withheld gifts.
Place o' Pines was too chilly a spot to be visited these November days, but the woods up the mountainside attracted both girls and boys one Saturday afternoon after the first frost, for Phil and Mary Lee knew a place where nuts were plentiful, so they all piled into the Lewis's carryall and went to where the road ended, fastening the horses there and going the rest of the way on foot. It was wildly beautiful in this mountain forest. The distant call of a bird, the rustle of leaves as some creature of the woods sped from sight, or the trickle of some little mountain brook was all that could be heard until the merry laughter of the young people rang out upon the air.
Nan sat down upon a log and was soon lost in a dream. The boys fell to gathering nuts; Jack and Jean ran here and there excited by the freedom and wildness of the spot; Phil and Mary Lee soon discovered a mutual interest in the lair of a Molly Cotton-Tail and her babies and next gave chase to a squirrel.
"We might find out where he lives," said Phil. "I'd like to get a young one and train him. There he goes, Mary Lee. Come on," and Mary Lee followed over fallen logs, through heaps of dead leaves and broken branches till finally Master Squirrel was lost from view and they were a long distance from where they started.
Meanwhile several bags of nuts were stowed away under the seat of the carryall and Randolph discovered that it was time to start back. "The days are so short," he said, "that we haven't time to more than get back before dark. Call them all in, Ashby."
Ashby gave a long mountain call. Jack and Jean came running and Nan appeared from where she had been picking up a last hoard of nuts. "Where are the others?" asked Ran.
"Don't know," returned Nan.
"I saw them go off that way." Jack waved her hand toward the west. Ran went a short distance and gave the call. Then he waited. There was utter silence save for the trickling of the little stream. Again he called but there was no response. "Where can they be?" he said impatiently. "They ought to know better than to act so. I suppose they think it is funny to pretend they don't hear." But in a little while, he feared that it was not pretense, and that they were really not only out of sight but out of hearing. He did not voice his alarm to the girls, however, but, after whistling softly for a few minutes, he walked away, calling to his brother.
"See here, Ashby," he said, "I'm afraid those two have strayed away and have lost their bearings. Because they have been up here a number of times, they think they can find their way anywhere. Now, don't express any surprise when I propose that you drive the others home. I'm going to stay here and you go back and tell Colonel Lewis what I fear. Get fresh horses and come back. I'll wait here in case Phil and Mary Lee find their way back. It will be all right."
Ashby agreed and the two came back to where the others were waiting. "Phil's playing us a nice trick," said Ran in assumed contempt, "and it's time you girls were starting home. I'm going to send you back with Ashby and I'll wait here for the others. I'll hide so they can't see me. Won't they be good and scared?"
"But how will you all get back?" asked Nan.
"Oh, Ashby's coming back for us. It isn't much of a drive and Miss Sarah will be worrying. As soon as it gets a little darker, Phil and Mary Lee will hurry out to the road fast enough."
"You don't – " Nan glanced at the twins who had clambered into the carriage. "You don't think," she repeated in a low whisper, "that they could be lost."
"Nonsense," returned Ran. "They'll be here in a minute, only it isn't worth while to wait for them and they deserve a good scare."
Nan looked at him steadily. She was not quite sure that he was not alarmed for the safety of the missing two, but he smiled confidently.
"It's all right," he insisted.
"If you stay, I will," said Nan decidedly.
"No, you mustn't," returned Ran.
"Why not?"
"I don't want you," he answered bluntly.
"Oh, well then," said Nan, somewhat offended, "of course, I'll not stay, but I must say you're polite."
Ran turned away. He had gained his point at the risk of being rude, but that was of little moment just then. He could make his apologies later. And so the three girls drove off with Ashby as attendant and left Randolph to keep a lonely watch on the mountain.
Aunt Sarah was on the lookout for the nutting party. "Where are the others?" was her first question.
Nan explained. "Ran thought we'd better come on," she said. "He's waiting for Phil and Mary Lee. Ashby is going back for them."
"Gracious!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah and sought out Ashby.
When she returned Nan was quick to read the anxiety in her face. "You don't think they could really be lost," she said in alarm.
"We'll wait and see," returned Aunt Sarah in her most non-committal manner.
But as the hours wore on, she made no secret of her fears. Jean went to bed weeping. Jack's eyes had a scared look in them. Just suppose there should be bears and wildcats in the woods. She put her question to Nan. "Aren't there wild animals on the mountain?" she asked. "Landy says so."
"Of course, there are wild animals; foxes and rabbits and chipmunks," Nan answered lightly, trying to allay her fears.
"I don't mean those. I mean real tearing, scratching, eating animals," said Jack.
"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," returned Nan, ready to break down herself. "Don't think about it, Jack. Go to sleep and in the morning you will see Mary Lee safe and sound in bed asleep."
"Please stay with me then till I go to sleep," said Jack. "I see all sorts of things in the dark." And Nan stayed.
About nine o'clock Aunt Sarah put on her wraps. "I'm going over to Mag's," she said. "I can't stand this."
"Please let me go, too," pleaded Nan.
Aunt Sarah waited a moment before she consented, and the two set off together, leaving Mitty and Unc' Landy to keep a sleepy watch in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, night had descended upon the mountain. Feeling that danger actually threatened his little son, Colonel Lewis provided himself with lanterns, warm wraps, food and a bottle of spirits, and then started with Ashby to the spot where Ran waited.
It was dark by the time the carriage appeared and Ran called out: "That you, Ashby?"
"Colonel Lewis and I," replied Ashby. "Are you all there, Ran?"
"I'm all here, but nobody else," returned Ran not meaning to be jocular.
"They haven't come?" Colonel Lewis asked making his way quickly to the spot.
"No, sir. Don't you think it would be a good plan to build a fire? They might see it, or they might see the smoke."
"If there is no danger of the woods catching we can do it."
"There's a big rocky place further on where I think it would be safe," Ran told him. "I have kept up a constant calling, but haven't heard a sound except from an owl."
To build the fire was the first step and Ashby was left to watch it while the other two set out, lanterns in hand, taking the direction in which the wanderers had disappeared. "I always carry a small compass," said Colonel Lewis, "and I have hunted in these mountains since I was a boy. We'll keep an eye on the smoke and then if we can only find those children, I shall have no fears about our getting back to the fire. You're not afraid, Ashby?" he called back.
"No, sir," came the prompt reply.
"Keep up a good fire and a good heart," called Ran.
"All right, I will," and little Ashby had his turn of loneliness. It must be confessed that he did feel a sinking of heart as he saw the two disappear into the darkness of the forest.
Darker, more lonesome, more awful did that forest seem to the two children who, wearied at last from unsuccessful attempts to find their way back, sat down upon a log to rest. "It's no use trying any more," said Phil. "We're tuckered out and we can't see a yard ahead of us anyhow. It wasn't right for me to bring you way off here, Mary Lee, and I wish I hadn't done it."
"It wasn't your fault any more than mine," said she. "We both started to follow the squirrel."
"Yes, but I said I wanted to try to catch a young one, and so you went to accommodate me. If I hadn't said that you wouldn't have gone."
"We might have gone after something else just the same," said the girl. "It is awfully dark, isn't it, Phil?"
"Father always carries a compass." Phil was busy with his own thoughts. "I wish we knew the direction we came, then I could find the North star and go by that."
"But we can scarcely see the stars in here."
"Anyhow I ought to have noticed the direction. Father says that is what one ought always to do when he is in a strange place, especially in the woods."
"It's getting very cold," said Mary Lee, plaintively. "Do you suppose we could kindle a fire by rubbing two sticks together as the Indians do?"
"It wouldn't do to have a fire here if we had matches. We might set the woods on fire. We ought to get out into some open place to do that."
"Couldn't we find one?"
"It's warmer here, more sheltered, you know. Are you very cold, Mary Lee? Take my coat."
"I'll do no such thing," Mary Lee refused determinedly. "It's no colder for me than for you."
"Then let's sit close." So the two cousins snuggled together, each feeling comfort from the nearness of the other.
"I wish we had something to eat," sighed Mary Lee after a silence. "It will be a long time before morning. Shall you dare to go to sleep, Phil?"
"I – don't know."
"Do you suppose they will try to find us?"
"My father will, I know."
"What are you thinking about?" said Mary Lee after another long pause.
"I'm trying to puzzle out about directions. Of course, the mountain is west of the town, for the sun sets behind it, so we ought to go east to get back, and we must go down-hill instead of up."
"But we might go down-hill and go north or south."
"When the sun rises, we can see that and travel toward the east."
"We can do that unless – " Mary Lee's courage was beginning to ooze out and she gave a little frightened sob.
"What, Mary Lee?" Phil began to stroke her hand in boyish fashion.
"Unless the bears or wildcats get us before then," she sobbed outright.
Phil had thought of this, but had not mentioned it. "They shall not get us," he declared. "They are not going to. Father will find us before long."
"How can he?"
"He can, and he will," said Phil confidently. "Father can do anything he sets out to do."
This was somewhat comforting, though it did not keep out the cold which was growing more and more evident every moment and presently both children were shivering.
"Do you suppose," said Mary Lee, "that if we covered ourselves with leaves like the Babes in the Woods that we would be warmer?"
"We might try it," said Phil. "The leaves are good and dry and there are lots around us right here."
They began to feel around them and to scrape up the fallen leaves, the exercise helping them to keep warm. They kept close together, fearing lest one should be separated from the other and not be able to find the way back. They sat down in their nest of leaves and pulled them high around them.
"I know now how the woodsy things feel," said Mary Lee, cheered by the warmth. "They sleep under a blanket of leaves all winter and peep out again in the spring. I'm getting sleepy, Phil." She rested her head against the log and was soon asleep.
Phil piled the leaves over her till she was almost hidden by them, but for him there was no sleep, for afar off the wailing cry of a wildcat he heard and recognized. Presently, it sounded nearer and the boy in terror, crouched down in the leaves by his sleeping companion.