AN EVENING OF MUSIC
The Christmas preparations went on famously under Aunt Helen's
directions by which all of the girls profited, and though they
worked very hard, at last they viewed their array of gifts with much
complacency. Nan had kept the making of her song a secret, yet probably
nothing gave her such complete pleasure, and when it was all ready,
words and music neatly written with Aunt Helen's skilful help, Nan
would like to have gazed a dozen times a day at the page. At the top
was "A Song" done in ornamental letters. Under this was "To my Mother,"
and then came "Words and Music by Nancy Weston Corner." Miss Helen kept
the precious sheet in her charge lest some one should discover it.
"You won't mind your grandmother's seeing it, will you?" she asked Nan.
"She will be so pleased and proud." And Nan, remembering the little
trunk, could not refuse. If she had known then and there the result she
would have had no misgivings.
"I wish you could see what Nan has done," said Miss Helen, knowing
well how to arouse her mother's interest. "She is making a secret of
what she is going to give her mother at Christmas, but she has given me
leave to show it to you. I am keeping it safe for her."
"Let me see it, Helen," said Mrs. Corner with real eagerness. And Miss
Helen produced the sheet of music. Mrs. Corner scanned it interestedly.
"It seems to me the child has real talent," she remarked.
"Yes, I think she has. I hadn't the heart to suggest any alterations,
and I know her mother would rather the whole thing should come to her
without. You have not heard Nan at the piano, mother, for that disabled
arm has prevented her attempts. She has a pretty touch and plays really
delightfully by ear. I wish you could hear her. I think now that her
arm seems quite well again, I shall lure her up here to play for us
some time soon."
"Mr. Harmer said he would be coming this way about Christmas time,"
said Mrs. Corner, thoughtfully. "He will surely stop to see us."
"He will be here this week, I am sure. I am expecting a telegram any
time."
"I'd like him to meet Nancy. Such an old friend as he is can be relied
upon to tell us whether the child really has talent or not. Does she
take music lessons, Helen?"
"They have no piano, you know, and I don't think Mary's means allow of
Nan's having lessons. I'd like to teach her myself, and shall propose
to after Christmas, for my little Daniella will be going then and I
shall miss my occupation."
"They have heard from her uncle then?"
"Yes, Mrs. Boggs had a letter yesterday. He has a ranch in Texas and
offers to give them a home with him. His wife is dead and he seems
greatly pleased at discovering his sister. So they will go out to him
as soon as the money can be raised. Miss Polly Lewis is collecting
contributions to pay their expenses and has already quite a little
fund. Old Daniel Boggs cannot live the week out, the doctor says."
"You may offer Miss Lewis five dollars from me, toward the fund," said
Mrs. Corner.
"She will be glad to have it," said Miss Helen, simply. She was pleased
to see her mother taking more interest in the things around her, in
extending her sympathies and in being willing to get in touch with her
old acquaintances.
A telegram the next day from Mr. Harmer announced that he would arrive
that same evening. "We must have Nancy over," said Mrs. Corner. "Send
for her, Helen."
So a note was dispatched which caused great excitement when Nan read
it. She flew to her Aunt Sarah. "Just think," she cried, "there is
going to be a real musician, a really great one, over at grandmother's
and they have invited me over to hear him play this evening. I may go,
mayn't I? You know I never did hear any one like that."
"And you do love music so," added Miss Sarah with a twinkle.
"You know I do."
"To-night, did you say? How will you get home?"
"They will send some one with me or I could stay all night, I suppose."
"You'd better come home. I'll send Ran over about half-past nine. Go
'long, then."
Nan arrayed herself in her best, which, after all, was not so very
fine, and she bewailed the fact that it was not a real party for
which she had all the necessary outfit. However, the dark blue serge
was becoming, and the corals were an addition. Nan decided that her
grandmother would be pleased if she wore them and would overlook the
shabbiness of her frock. Few, though, would have seen beyond the
expressive face and starry eyes, and it is certain that Mr. Harmer gave
no thought to her frock.
He was a gentle looking man, with iron-gray hair, rather an unseeing
expression, and an absent manner; but, when he was talking of music,
his face lighted up, and his eyes lost their dreamy look. He greeted
Nan kindly, holding her hand a moment and patting it. Then he went to
the piano, and for an hour Nan sat spellbound.
Into what regions of delight was she plunged. She followed marching
armies, she danced with fairies; she wept over lost lovers; she watched
fleeting shadows; she trod a land of spring-time and flowers. Mrs.
Corner had purposely placed her where she could watch her, and within
the musician's line of vision. Once in a while he gave a glance at the
rapt countenance and nodded significantly at Miss Helen. Finally when
the last note of the "Moonlight Sonata" had ceased to vibrate, Mr.
Harmer turned to Nan. "Now," he said, "I want to hear this little girl
play."
Nan almost jumped from her seat in surprise. "Me?" she exclaimed, with
a startled look from one to another.
"Yes, you, my dear," said her grandmother. "I am very anxious that Mr.
Harmer should hear what you can do. You are able to use your arm freely
now. I'd like you, too, to show Mr. Harmer the little song you have
written."
There was something in Mrs. Corner's manner that admitted no denial of
her wishes, though Nan faltered out that she had never taken lessons,
that she knew only a very, very little about notes and time.
"We all know that," said Mrs. Corner. "We do not expect wonders, Nancy."
So Nan got up. As she passed her Aunt Helen, she detained her,
whispering, "Play that little air you were trying that day I first
heard you."
Nan nodded. Her hands were cold, her face flushed, never had she gone
through such an ordeal. Yet she knew she must do her best and somehow
the mere pleasure of making music took from her all fear after the
first few weak notes. She played through the little air her aunt had
heard, with taste and expression. A soft clapping of hands rewarded her.
Mr. Harmer nodded approvingly at Mrs. Corner. "Come here, my dear," he
said to Nan. He took her hand and looked at the long, slim fingers. "Do
you love music well enough to work very hard, to give up play when you
ought to practice dull exercises, to study patiently and long?"
"I think so. I know so," said Nan, earnestly. "I'd do anything to be
able to play as you do."
Mr. Harmer smiled. "I think you needn't hesitate, Mrs. Corner," he
said. "Now, where's that song you were telling me of?" Nan reluctantly
brought it. Mr. Harmer looked it over without a comment. "Do you make
many tunes?" he said.
"Oh, yes," returned Nan. "I make them all the time. Sometimes I forget
them very soon, and sometimes they stay in my head and come back again
and again."
Mr. Harmer nodded. "Thank you, my dear. It is a pleasure to meet such a
little music lover."
He went back to the piano and was playing a wonderful nocturne when Ran
called to take Nan home. Her grandmother kissed her good-night with
unusual warmth, her Aunt Helen hugged her and Mr. Harmer shook hands
cordially, saying he hoped to live to see her a fine pianist. So Nan
went home with a glow in her heart and a faint little hope that her
grandmother would let her come there sometimes to play.
The question of presents for her grandmother and Aunt Helen remained
unsettled till the very day before Christmas, but as the children had
been very industrious with their other presents and the box to their
mother had been sent, there was little left for them to do but to trim
the tree, which the boys had cut the day before, and which was standing
in its spicy greenness in the corner of the living-room. "If we only
had the things, we could make a fine cake," said Nan. "We have eggs
enough, but Aunt Sarah says we can't afford the butter; it is so high
this time of year. I have decided to take Aunt Helen my palm. It is
looking fine."
"Oh, but Nan, you are so fond of it, and Mrs. Wise sent it to you,"
said Jack.
"I know, but I must give her something I am very fond of, for she has
been so perfectly dear to me." It was quite true that the palm was
dear to Nan. It represented a sort of tropical luxuriance in which she
delighted. She loved the outline of its shadows, the tracery of the
pointed leaves against the window curtain, and its general aspect as it
stood in one of the front windows of the living-room. To give it up was
really a sacrifice, but one she made willingly.
At this moment Mary Lee came in. "Cousin Polly wants to know if you
have time to come over there for a few minutes," she said to Nan.
"Of course I have," was the reply. "I'm so glad we were not lazy over
making our things for Christmas, for now they are all done and even
tied up, so it makes me feel so free and ready to get excited wondering
what I will get myself." She ran singing down the walk, the red golf
cape around her. "Heigho, Polly!" she cried as she went in. "Busy?"
"Oh, my dear, I'm up to my eyes, and I did so want to make some
panuchee for father; he simply loves the kind with peanuts in it, but I
haven't time to make it; I don't suppose you have either."
"Why yes, I have. We've really nothing to do but trim the tree, and
that we are going to do to-night, we older ones, though I should like
mighty well to make a cake for grandmother. It would be mighty nice if
we four girls could do each a part, but alas, butter is high. We went
without for a week so as to have some for our panuchee, we had the
nuts and Aunt Sarah gave us the sugar, but cake is a little beyond our
means. One day's going without butter wouldn't make even one cupful."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Polly stopping her work for a
moment. "If you will make my panuchee, I'll give you all the materials
for your cake."
"Done!" cried Nan. "It's a bargain. Shall I make it here or at home?"
"I don't care so long as it is done."
"Then I'll do it at home, for I am more used to our own pots and pans.
I suppose," she added, "you won't mind if I use the scrapings for
wages, that's what we generally do."
"What do you mean, Nan Corner?"
"Why, we get the twins to shell the peanuts and pay them for it with
the scrapings and the raggedy pieces when the stuff is done."
"You are quite welcome to that and a good fat piece for each of you
besides. Tell me what you want for your cake, and I'll send Phil over
with your materials and mine."
"I'd like to make a lady cake; grandmother is such a lady, and then,
too, the egg yolks can be used for something else, so it will be more
economical."
"You are a regular old woman with your economical ways," said Polly,
going to the pantry. "I'll send everything, Nan, even the flavoring
extract and mother's recipe which can't be beat. It's the baking that
is the most important part, remember."
"Oh, Aunt Sarah will help with that even if it is for grandmother. She
would never be happy to see good materials spoiled." And Nan went off
well pleased with her bargain.
The candy was first made and then they set to work on the cake. Mary
Lee beat the eggs, Jack and Jean creamed the butter and sugar together,
Nan added the other ingredients and all gave a final stir, and, in
spite of the saying that "too many cooks spoil the broth," the cake
turned out beautifully. Aunt Sarah showed them how to ice it and to
stick walnut meats on top, so that it was a most delectable piece of
cookery when it was done, and Daniella, who took a great interest in
the performance, looked at it with great admiration.
All these Christmas preparations were a novelty to the little mountain
girl, but they celebrated but one event in her mind and that was the
recovery of her mother, for Mrs. Boggs was to leave the hospital the
next day and take dinner with the Corners.
"I know what we can take Aunt Helen," said Jack, as they were hanging
wreaths in the living-room; "we'll make some wreaths to take to her;
we've such a lot of greens and she'll like them."
The rest agreed that this was a very good suggestion, and they set
to work on them, Daniella helping them, so that a half dozen pretty
wreaths with cheerful red holly berries set in them, were soon ready
and the big tree in the corner alone needed the attention of their busy
fingers.
"Daniella has never seen a Christmas tree," said Mary Lee, "and she
mustn't help. Wait till to-morrow morning, Daniella, and you will see
how pretty we've made it. You don't mind waiting, do you? Jack and Jean
aren't going to help either."
"I don't mind nothin'--anythin', I mean," said Daniella, who was
improving under association and direction. "I'm real happy even if po'
ole grandad ain't hyah. He's havin' a better time'n we could give him,
maw says, an' he got so foolish an' helpless, maw says he lef' us long
ago."
"I reckon that's true," said Nan, soberly, "and you can't help being
thankful and glad when you have your mother. I only wish our dear
blessed mother was here. I can't bear to think of Christmas without
her, and I just plunge along into whatever comes without stopping to
think."
"I'm glad there's going to be one mother here," remarked Jack.
If upon Christmas morning, something was missed by the four Corners,
it was a time of wonder and delight to Daniella. Never in all her
after life did she forget the odor of the burning candles mixed with
the fragrance of the fir tree and the sweet, appetizing, spicy smell
of the gingerbread man, the nutty candies and the orange she found
in her stocking. Never did she forget how they all stood around the
tree in the semi-darkened room whose only light came from the candles,
and sang, "Hark the herald angels sing." Never did she forget the
wonder and pleasure on her mother's pale face that day at dinner. She
surprised her friends with gifts. To Nan was given the little pig,
to each of the others a hen and to Miss Sarah's share fell the one
rooster. "I want you-alls to hev somethin' to remember me by," she said
a little shamefacedly.
"We'll never forget you," said the girls in chorus. "And you'd better
not forget us," added Jack.
Daniella gave her one look. "I ain't likely," she said.
If Daniella was made happy, Nan's Christmas joy exceeded that of any
one else, for shortly after breakfast a wagon stopped at the gate.
"Here comes the expressman," sang out Jean, "and the wagon's coming in
the gate. They hardly ever do that. Oh, Nan, what a great big box."
Nan came to the window daintily nibbling a chocolate from the box
Ran had given her. He had supplied each of the girls with delicious
candies. "It is a big box," she said. "I wonder what is in it, and
where it is going. I'll go to the door and take the package."
"So'll I go," declared Jean who was anxious to see.
"It isn't express after all," said Nan; "it's the wagon that brings
freight."
"Miss Nancy Corner?" said the man. "Here's your way-bill."
Nan took the paper the man held out. "Where's the package?" she asked.
"Where is it? You'd better ask. You've got the biggest present in town
this day. It takes four of us to handle it. Where'll you have it?"
A half suspicion was forming in Nan's brain. She began to tremble.
"I--I--don't know," she faltered.
"Better have it here in the hall," said the man, "and when it's
unpacked you can move it where you like." And the huge box was brought
in and set near the door of the living-room.
The men went out and Nan stood gazing helplessly at the box while Jean
ran calling: "Aunt Sarah, Mary Lee, Jack, come see what Nan's got. Ran,
Ashby, come see."
Presently the man came back. "I forgot this here was to go with it," he
said, taking a note from his cap.
Nan received it mechanically. She still stood gazing at the box.
Ran was the first to arrive on the scene. "Ho!" he exclaimed. "I reckon
I know what that is."
Nan clutched him excitedly. "What!" she whispered, hoarsely.
"A piano, of course."
"I don't believe it, I don't. It couldn't be."
"Of course, that is just what it is. Ours looked exactly that way when
it came, and if you'll come here and look on this side of the box you
will see the name of the manufacturer stamped on it."
Nan sank down on the floor and covered her face with her hands. "I
won't believe it, I won't, I won't," she said. "Nobody would do such a
thing for me. Nobody would."
"Here, let me get a hatchet and I'll soon show you," said Ran, going
toward the kitchen.
"What is the matter, Nan? Have you hurt yourself?" asked Miss Sarah,
coming out into the hall.
"I'm so excited it hurts," she replied, looking up with the unopened
note clasped close to her breast.
Ran returned with the hatchet and they all gathered around. One by one
the boards fell away, then the packing was revealed, and then, indeed,
the shining surface of a dear little upright piano came to view.
At sight of it Nan sobbed hysterically, as she looked from one to
another. "Is it mine? Are you sure it is mine?" she asked.
"Why don't you read what's in that note and find out?" said Aunt Sarah.
Nan opened the note and read: "A merry Christmas to you, my dear
granddaughter. May you enjoy the piano as much as I enjoy giving it. We
have some little presents for you all, so come over, every one of you,
and get them."
"Your loving grandmother,
"GRACE HELENA CORNER."
"It is! It is!" cried Nan ecstatically. "Grandmother has sent it to me,
and she wants us all to come over and get more presents."
"Where's the cake?" cried Jack.
"Get the wreaths," said Jean.
"Here, here," said Aunt Sarah, "get this stuff cleared away first.
Come, all of you. We must get this piano out of the hall." So they
tarried long enough to see the piano in place and then with the cake in
a basket, the wreaths on their arms and the palm carefully protected
from the too sharp winds, they trooped forth to Uplands.
Nan was the first to rush into the house. She fell on her knees before
her grandmother and buried her head in her lap. "How could you, how
could you do such a lovely thing?" she gasped out. "I don't deserve it.
Oh, grandmother, if you had searched the world over, you couldn't have
given me anything I wanted more."
"That's what I thought," said Mrs. Corner.
"I can't thank you," said Nan. "There aren't enough words in the
Century Dictionary to do it."
Her grandmother laughed. "Take this excitable, grateful creature into
the other room, Helen," she said. "You'll have to chain her down, I'm
afraid, or she'll take wings. She is ready to fly now." Nan followed
her aunt to where the other children had been already summoned. For
each, except Nan, her Aunt Helen had a pretty book such as she knew
would most appeal to the various tastes. For each, except Nan their
grandmother had stuff for a new frock. The material for Nan's came
instead of a book from her Aunt Helen.
Then the cake was presented receiving all the praise it deserved.
"It was a sweet, thoughtful thing for you to do," said Mrs. Corner
evidently gratified. "And it is my favorite cake. Did you know that?"
"Jack found out that it was," Nan told her.
The wreaths then were hung up and the palm given to Aunt Helen.
"But, Nan, darling," said her aunt, "I know you have given me your own
palm, and that you are very fond of it, for you have often spoken of it
to me."
"Do you think I would give you something I didn't like when I love you
so much?" said Nan, indignantly, and Aunt Helen said not another word
of protest.
After the children had gone, Mrs. Corner sat looking thoughtfully into
the fire, a smile upon her face. "Next year," she said, "I shall have
all my grandchildren here to dinner. Mary will come too. She will,
won't she, Helen?"
"I am sure she will," said Miss Helen.
"It will be a great pleasure to have all Jack's family at Uplands,"
continued Mrs. Corner sighing. "I am glad we came back, Helen."
[Illustration: CHAPTER XIX
FIRE!]