Read Ebook: The four Corners in California by Blanchard Amy Ella Smith Wuanita Illustrator

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Ebook has 1853 lines and 74619 words, and 38 pages

Up and down the parade passed in review

The good priest gave many interesting accounts

"I shall love to sit and look at her"

Mary Lee had lost all faith in the burro

A little Scotch air brought bunny to his shoulder

The Four Corners in California

GOING FORTH

There was great commotion in the home of the Corners one day in October. Nan was flying up and down-stairs "like a hen on a hot griddle," Aunt Sarah said. Mary Lee, less excitable, was, nevertheless, nervously putting in and taking out various articles from a leather satchel. Jean was trying to sop up some ink her twin sister, Jack, had spilt on the floor and over her precious self. "I was just going to write a card so as it would be all ready to put on Aunt Helen's trunk," wailed Jack, "and the ink bottle slipped before I could catch it."

"Never mind, never mind," comforted Jean. "It's coming out a little bit, Jack, and there's plenty of time. Unc' Landy has something that will take it out real crick. Now, do be criet and I'll go ask him for it."

Somewhat pacified, Jack's sobs ceased, though she sat mournfully contemplating the spot on the floor. Fortunately the carpet was old, patched and darned in places, so the damage done was less remarked than if it had been a new one. There had been other overturnings of ink, of water, of various other things, in days gone by, so its color was dingy and uncertain. Jack turned her gaze from the carpet to her own stained fingers saturated to the tips with the inky fluid. "They'll look dreadful to travel with," she said ruefully as Jean returned, "and Aunt Helen says ladies never have black fingernails."

"Oh, well, we aren't ladies yet," returned Jean consolingly. "Of course we'll not have when we are ladies, because we'll have time then to sit and use all those little things Aunt Helen has: files and scissors and things. Here's the stuff, Jack. Unc' Landy says this is hosally-assy, and it is very strong; you have to use only a few grains of it in some water."

"I wonder what it's made of," remarked Jack, as Jean carefully poured a few crystals into her hand from the small vial she held.

"I asked him," returned Jean, "and he said he reckoned it was made of horses and mules, like glue. He said the Bible calls mules asses; you remember Balaam's ass that spoke. Unc' Landy said he didn't know what the ally meant, but there was the hoss and the ass. He said they make lots of things out of animals. Rennet is made from the stomachs of calves, and then there's ox-gall, he said, for setting colors."

"He's right knowing for an old darky," returned Jack, wetting her finger and carefully touching a crystal.

"That's not the way to do it," said Jean hastily. "You must put it in water."

"I don't see why this way isn't just as good," returned Jack. "It is coming out, Jean. See, that little spot is nearly clean."

"It would be just as well to do it the right way," persisted Jean. She went over to the washstand, procured a mug half full of water into which she poured some grains of the oxalic acid, and brought it to Jack who plunged her fingers in it and sat comfortably soaking them while Jean attended to the carpet.

They were absorbed in this occupation when Mary Lee came in. "What are you two doing?" she asked.

"Why, Jack spilled some ink and we are getting it all out," replied Jean.

"I should think you were," said Mary Lee, viewing the basin of discolored water. "What is the matter with your hands, Jack? Have you burned them?"

"No, I am soaking off the ink with hossally-assy that Unc' Landy gave me."

"Not hossally, goosey; it's oxalic."

"Oh, then it's oxes and mules, Jean," she said in an undertone to her twin sister.

"It is a good thing mother made you wear that old frock till the very last minute," remarked Mary Lee, opening a closet door and running her eye over the contents. "I believe we have left nothing here that we shall want. You children had better hurry up; Nan wants us to form a procession to make the good-byes. We're going right away." She came and stood near her little sisters. "I don't believe you can get any more out, Jean; it's an old faded carpet, anyhow, and very likely we shall have a new one when we get back. I wouldn't bother over it. Come on down. Time is flying and we must say the good-byes."

Thus admonished the twins arose from the floor, Jack carefully examining her fingers. "They're not crite so bad," said Jean.

"I think they're much better," declared Jack with conviction. "When they're dry they will do very well."

"I promised Unc' Landy that I would take the bottle right back to him," Jean said.

"And tell him it is oxes, not horses," said Jack emptying the contents of the mug. "Wait a minute and I'll go with you, Jean. We shall have to go to the stable to say good-bye to Pete and the cow and chickens. There's Nan calling now."

They ran down to find their two elder sisters waiting for them. "Come on," said Nan. "We shall have to dress pretty soon, and there is no time to lose. We are going to the stable first and the gardens last. Mary Lee has some food for the chickens and I have an apple for Pete."

They started out, Nan leading the procession. At the stable they found Unc' Landy looking glum and unresponsive. It was a sore day for him which saw his "fambly" depart for California.

He shook his head as the children went through the ceremony of making their adieux to the old mule, Pete. "Lak as not yuh-all's don' see dat ol' mewl agin," he remarked, "an' mebbe I git called to glory mahse'f fo' yuh gits back, yuh gwine stay so long."

"Why, aren't you well, Unc' Landy?" chorused the four girls.

"I got tur'ble mis'ry in mah back," he said, "an' I only tollable these days. Lak as not I don' las' th'ough de wintah."

This was distressing, but the practical Mary Lee remembered that Unc' Landy prophesied this calamity at the beginning of each season. In the spring it was a "mis'ry in de haid" which would prevent his living till autumn. In the summer he was "so plumb wo' out" he didn't expect to see another Christmas. In the winter he was "dat oneasy in de jints" he wasn't to be expected to leave his bed again by spring. Yet the prophecies never came true, Mary Lee reflected, so she said cheerfully: "It would be a real low-down trick, Unc' Landy, for you not to wait till we get back. I don't believe you could do us so mean as not to have us here to see to your funeral."

At which speech Unc' Landy chuckled and wagged his head, and when they took up the line of march after having parted from their stable pets he followed in their wake. Before long four others had fallen into line. The first of them was Phil Lewis, then came the Gordon boys, Ashby and Randolph, and lastly came Trouble, the old mongrel dog who had shared many an experience of the Corner family's. As for Phil, he was a "double cousin" because he was related to both the Lees and the Corners. The Gordon boys were cousins, too, though less nearly related. They were going to school in the town and were boarding at the Corners' house which was now overlooked by Aunt Sarah Dent.

"We don't mean to echo your good-byes," said Randolph, as he came up, "but we want your company when you are going to leave us so soon."

Mary Lee turned to Phil. "You will have an eye to poor old Trouble, won't you?" she said. "Doctor him up if anything happens to him. Then the chickens and the ducks and all, I depend on you, Phil, not to let anything happen to them."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Nan. "You certainly are giving Phil a weight of responsibility. As if he could run after the chickens and ducks all day."

"Oh, he knows I don't expect him to do that, but that I hope he will take a general supervision of them." Phil promised to do his best and Mary Lee knew he would not fail her.

Jack slipped her hand into Randolph's. He was a tall, fine looking boy who towered up above the little lass, but who was quite chummy with her. "Won't you sometimes let Baz in when he is shut out in the cold?" she whispered. Baz was her cat of whom she was very fond. "Everybody pays attention to Lady Grey," she went on, "but Baz will get neglected if I am not here."

Ran smiled down at her. "Shall I get a bell for his neck so I can tell when he is around?"

"Oh, no, he wouldn't like that. You named him Maher-shaleel-hash-baz, you know."

"And so as a sort of sponsor I must be responsible for him and try to keep him from picking and stealing, I suppose. I am afraid I can't answer for his misdemeanors, Jack, but I will try to give him a warm corner in my room when I am there."

Jack gave his hand a squeeze. "Oh, thank you," she said. "I knew you would."

Randolph turned to Nan. "And what shall we do for you?" he inquired.

Nan looked sober. "I think I will speak a word for Aunt Sarah. She is going to miss us awfully, and she will get very lonely on Sundays, I'm afraid."

Randolph gave the girl a quick look. He knew that in days gone by Aunt Sarah Dent and Nan had not been the best of friends. "It is good of you to think of Miss Sarah before any one else," he said. "I know you and she weren't always nick-ups."

"Oh, but we are now. Ever since she nursed me last year we have been."

"Well," said Ran, "if she is good enough to come here to keep house and look after the comfort of us boys, I reckon the least we can do is to make her as little trouble as possible and to think of her comfort sometimes."

"Spoken like a true Southern gentleman," returned Nan laughing.

From stable to hen-house; from hen-house to garden; from garden to orchard they had taken their way. Many were the charges Unc' Landy received concerning this hen, that duck; this crop of vegetables, that yield of fruit, and now the final spot was reached and they returned solemnly to the house, a little cast down as they considered how long it would be before they saw each familiar place again.

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