The Four Corners Abroad

by Amy Ella Blanchard

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE FAIRY PLAY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

  AS the time for the fairy play approached the children grew more andmore eager. Even the elder members of the party were going; the Hoyts,too, had taken tickets.

  "Do let us have our own tickets, mother," begged Jack before theystarted. "It seems so nice to really own them, and so much moreimportant than if some one else gave them in. We will take good care ofthem. I'll put mine in my pocketbook, and I'll promise not to lose it."

  "It will be to your own sorrow if you do," her mother told her."Here it is. Perhaps it is a good plan to let you have this muchresponsibility, for it will give you a chance of depending upon yourown wits."

  Jack stowed away her ticket safely, giving only stealthy peeps at itonce in a while during the time they were on the street-cars whichwould take them to the Gaertnerplatz theatre. At the last moment beforethey entered she looked to see if it were there, and held it tightly asshe was about to follow the others. Miss Helen was in front, the oldergirls came next, Jean was just ahead of Jack. Suddenly Jack's eye fellupon a forlorn little figure by the door, wistfully watching the facesof the many happy children who were entering the door. Jack paused,and gave a long look at the child to make sure she was the same theyhad seen in the cemetery on All Saints day. She had not met her sincethe morning she saw her talking to the switch-tender, but she was verysure that she was not mistaken in believing her to be the one in whomshe and Jean were interested. She stood smiling at the little girl andreceived a timid smile in return.

  "_Gehen zie_ in theatre?" asked Jack in her best German.

  "_Nein_," answered the child.

  "_Warum?_" inquired Jack.

  "_Ich habe kein billet._"

  Jack hesitated but a moment before she thrust her ticket into the handof the child who looked astounded. "Here," said Jack, and then sherushed tumultuously away leaving the child gazing from the ticket tothe fast disappearing figure of the little girl who hurried off.

  Jack had a good bump of locality and knew exactly what car to take inorder to return home, and thither she went, not without some regretsat her impetuous generosity, it must be confessed, but on the wholequite satisfied with herself. It seemed a very long afternoon, but shewent bravely through it, occupying the time by writing to her friendCarter Barnwell, and by doing such things as were not encouraged whenher elders were at home. It was a fine opportunity to pick out tuneson the piano, for example, and to leap from chair to chair pretendingthat there was only water between. She could also rummage and dressup, choosing Nan's frocks for the latter performance, since thesewould trail further on the ground. She put a suit of Mary Lee's on apillow and pretended it was another person while she, herself, was thePrincess Herzlieb, so after all the time did not go slowly.

  She was standing by the window watching when the family returned.

  "Jack Corner, you are the most surprising child I ever saw," began Nan.

  "Oh, but you missed it," cried Jean. "You never saw anything so lovely."

  "Hush, Jean," said Mrs. Corner. "Jack, dear, I want to know how ithappened the little girl had your place."

  "We were so surprised when she came in," said Mary Lee. "We thought youwere right behind us, and that the little girl had taken the wrong seatfor there were two empty just the other side, though they were filledlater, but no indeed, there was the number all right. You never sawsuch an amazed child as she was in all your life. I don't suppose shehad ever been in such a place before."

  "Tell us about it, Jack," said her mother taking the child's hands inhers.

  "I saw her standing on the steps watching the people go in, and shelooked so poor and miserable, and I thought of the candle and theflowers and that maybe she never did have any good times, so I askedher if she were going in and she said no, she hadn't any ticket, so Isaid here, and I gave her mine and ran."

  "You impulsive little child," said her mother. "Why, dearie, ratherthan have had you give, up the play I would gladly have let you take myplace. Indeed, as soon as we had inquired of the little girl how shecame to have the ticket I did go out to find you, but you were nowhereto be seen."

  Jack looked a little regretful. "What did the little girl say?" sheasked. "What did you all talk to her about?"

  "Your Aunt Helen asked if she had found the ticket, for she thoughtyou must have dropped it. But the little girl said, no, a _maedchen_, a_gnaediges fraeulein_ gave it to her, and then we knew."

  Jack turned eagerly to Jean. "Did you ask her name, Jean, and where shelived?"

  "I forgot. I was so excited about the play, but Aunt Helen asked,didn't she, mother?"

  "Yes, her name is Bertha Metzger, and she lives over the other side ofthe market. Did I understand you to say, Jack, that you had seen herbefore?"

  "Why, yes, didn't Jean tell you? She is the little girl we saw in thecemetery that Sunday, the one who had only a little candle and such ameasly tiny bunch of flowers."

  "And that is why you felt like doing this for her, I see."

  "Of course that was it."

  "Oh, Jack," exclaimed Jean again rapturously, "it was so lovely. ThePrincess Herzlieb was bee-yutiful, and the prince so handsome. It waslike a real fairy-land with roses and things, and the fairy godmotherlived in a cunning house, and had the dearest boy pigeons to carry hermessages. They would flap their wings just like real pigeons, only theywere people dressed up to look like pigeons. Then there was a funny fatold cook that made everybody laugh; you ought to have seen him, he wasso ridiculous."

  "I don't care," said Jack with pretended indifference.

  "And the brother of the princess was changed into stone because he wasa very bad boy, and the princess could break the spell only by goinginto the king's kitchen and working like a servant for a year, and inall that time she couldn't speak a word; if she did there would beno chance of her freeing her brother from the spell. Oh, it was soexciting I was so afraid she would have to speak."

  "I don't care," said Jack, not quite so bravely.

  "And," Jean went on still intent upon her tale, "there was a great bigChristmas tree at the last and the king and the king's brother--he wasthe prince who loved the princess--and a lot of the court were allthere, then afterward the prince found the princess and she had servedher time as a servant so she could free her brother, so she did, andoh, it was fine. There were so many lovely things. There was a fairywho appeared and disappeared like magic, and--oh, yes, I forgot, therewas such a funny dance----"

  "I--don't care," said Jack in a broken voice and rushing from the room.After all, her sacrifice had not seemed to mean much. Every one hadbeen entertained and had not missed her greatly. Even Jean, her owntwin, had not said she was sorry that her little sister was not there,but seemed, on the contrary, rather to triumph over her. They had notsaid much about Bertha, and--well the tears began to run down hercheeks as she stood alone in the dark by the window of the room whereshe and Jean slept.

  Presently the door opened softly and some one came in. "Is that youhere in the dark, Jacksie?" It was Nan who spoke. "I am so sorry youmissed the play. I couldn't half enjoy it for thinking about you. But,honey, you did the loveliest thing for little Bertha, and you are areal little Princess Herzlieb yourself, because poor Bertha is shut outfrom everything, from all the lovely things and the comforts you haveand you broke the spell by making a sacrifice, just as the PrincessHerzlieb did in the play."

  "Oh, Nan, did I?"

  "Of course, for you gave her such a wonderful pleasure. I wish youcould have seen her great eyes and her happy little face. She willremember this afternoon all her life, I am sure. Aunt Helen and Italked to her as we were coming out, and we are going to find out moreabout her. Her mother is dead and she doesn't know where her father is.She lives with an aunt who has a great many children and I think mustbe very poor."

  "Maybe she is the switch woman."

  "Very likely. At any rate we shall find out soon, and we are goingto see about a jolly good Christmas for them all.
Do you rememberlast year and little Christine? You did that, too, little PrincessHeartlove. Your old Nan understands, doesn't she? I know you can't helpbeing half sorry, but when you see how it will all turn out for Bertha,you will be glad you served without speaking."

  "You are so nice, Nan," said Jack, giving her sister a close hug. "Youalways do understand, and you never think I am half as bad as otherpeople think."

  "You are anything but bad. Sometimes you do thoughtless things, but youdon't really mean to be naughty."

  "I forget."

  "I know you do, and after a while you will learn to remember. You don'tdo half as many wrong things as you used to. I know something else; Iknow if you hadn't spent your money for Jean's doll you would have hadenough to buy a ticket for Bertha and could have kept your own."

  "How did you know?" said Jack a little embarrassed.

  "Because I know what your allowance is, and I know you had only a tinybit left after you bought the doll."

  "I had just car fare to take me home."

  "Exactly what I thought. Any one of us older ones would have been gladto help you out, but like the reckless little body that you are, yourushed off and didn't give us a chance. If you had waited a few minutesyou might have known we'd come out to hunt you up."

  "I wanted Bertha to have the ticket and I thought I'd better go, so shewouldn't try to give it back to me."

  "Oh, of course, I know exactly why you did it, but next time give therest of us a chance too. We could all have chipped in and have boughther a ticket, that is supposing there were any to be had. They werevery cheap, anyhow, so you could both have had your fun."

  Jack gave a little sigh. She realized that she had rather oversteppedthe mark in her effort to be generous, but now she did not regret it,for Jean had only seen a Princess Herzlieb, and Nan had said she wasone herself; that was much better, and Nan had missed her, whether anyone else did or not. It was worth while to have done something that noone else had thought of doing, and for which Nan had praised her.

  True to their word Miss Helen and Nan did go to hunt up Bertha Metzger,and found that she really did live with the switch-tender in a littleback street. The place was poor but respectable enough. Frau Pfeffer,the aunt, worked very hard to support her five small children andBertha, too, and it was hard to earn enough for food and clothing forall. Bertha's father had suddenly disappeared, and had not been heardof for a long time. He had been nearly crazed by the loss of his wife,and about the same time had lost his place in a factory. Frau Pfeffer,herself, had come from the country after the death of her husband andhad tried to find her brother, whom she believed to be in Munich, buthad not been able to learn anything about him. He had gone away to lookfor work, his neighbors said, and had promised to return for his littlegirl whom he had sent to her aunt.

  There was nothing of the whining beggar about Frau Pfeffer. She toldher tale simply as a matter of course, and did not hint at her needs.She worked hard, but not so hard as many others, for she could sit downmuch of the time, and though it was often cold, still that was nothingwhen one was used to it, and she considered herself very fortunateto have the work to do. Bertha could help a great deal. She was tobe relied upon, and did not let the children get into any harm. Thefather's name was Hans Metzger, and she was sure if he were alive hewould come back.

  The conversation was not carried on without some difficulty, for FrauPfeffer's Bavarian dialect was hard to understand, and Miss Helen wasnot very proficient in German. Nan had a better command of the languageand was very quick, but even she found herself at a loss for a wordvery often, and oftener still, could not distinguish what Frau Pfefferwas saying.

  Miss Helen and Nan walked home together after their visit, comingthrough an old part of the city, and happening upon various curiouscorners where old painted houses faced them, and where the crookedstreets would have misled them if they had not carried a map. As theywent along they planned what they should do for the Pfeffer family.Every Christmas for several years the Corners had tried to help someone who needed assistance, and they had been most fortunate in theirefforts. The sad little picture of a forlorn child offering one meagrecandle and a few broken flowers as a decoration for her mother's graveon All Saints day had moved them, although it was Jack who had reallydone the most to awaken the interest of the others. Jack, whom onewould never suspect of such things, and who had given her family moreanxiety and care than all the rest put together, yet it was she who,the year before, had given her Christmas stocking to a little lame girlin New York, for with all her thoughtlessness and her capacity forgetting into scrapes, hers was the warmest heart of all.

  That same day Dr. Woods came in, and was told the story which was atthe moment the most interesting theme of conversation. He, too, thoughtit a case which should be given attention. "What we want to do," Nantold him, "is to find the father. Frau Pfeffer is quite sure he willreturn, but he may not be alive, though she firmly believes he is."

  "Perhaps I can help there," said the doctor. "What is his name?"

  "Hans Metzger."

  "Where was he last seen?" Dr. Woods took out his note-book.

  "He left Munich to find work."

  "Do you know where he intended to go?"

  "No, but perhaps his neighbors would know."

  "I will inquire. Can you tell me what was his last address?"

  "I can give you his sister's. No doubt she will know where he livedlast."

  "That will do. All right. I will start up a line of investigation atonce. Perhaps among us all, we may get hold of a clue. And how goes theGerman, Nan?"

  "It is a fearsome language," said Nan solemnly. "I wish you could haveheard me trying to make Frau Pfeffer understand me, though I think Istruggled harder, if anything, to understand her. Such a dialect! Idon't see how they make it out themselves, and I don't see, either,how they master the German pure and--no, I can't say simple, for it isexactly the opposite."

  "I admit it is pretty hard, and if I hadn't tackled it early, I wouldbe in a regular fuddle now. But I took my grasp young, and have managedto hold on, as you will do."

  "I don't know. I like French, or any of the Latin languages better."

  "Yet there is a sort of rugged dignity about German which is veryattractive. Its literature is very rich."

  "I suppose so, and I may find its attractions later, but not when I amstumbling into pitfalls caused by declensions and constructions."

  "If I can help you out at any time, don't fail to press me intoservice."

  "I may keep you to that offer."

  The other girls, including Juliet Hoyt, considered Dr. Paul much tooelderly to be interesting, and at his appearance generally betookthemselves to the Hoyts' rooms, where the more frivolous company ofschoolboys suited their tastes. Nan, therefore, was often left todo the honors if her mother and aunt were not at hand, and Nan, beit said, did not consider it a hardship, for she liked Dr. Paul, andoften when Mrs. Corner and Miss Helen returned from an early concertthey would find the two laughing and talking together most happily.Nan liked the Hoyts and enjoyed the nonsense which went on in theirsitting-room where there were seldom less than two or three boys, buther love of music was too real for her not wanting to escape from aseries of dances banged out to rag-time measure.

  "It is more than I can stand," she told Dr. Paul. "A little rag-time isjolly enough, and I am not so superior as to despise it altogether, buta whole evening of it is more than I can stand."

  "Yet even that is better than some other kinds," responded Dr. Paul."There happens to be a man at our _pension_ who at home has thereputation of being an accomplished musician because he professes toplay classical music. He comes from some small town, and his companionsare evidently not among the elect. He does play execrably. I wish youcould hear him."

  "I don't," interrupted Nan laughing. "I know the kind. I suppose hewill keep right on for the rest of his life as he has begun, varyinghis performance sometimes by bringing in a bit of improvisation,terrible improvisation whic
h has no rhyme, reason, melody or anythingelse. I know such a person who blandly told me she sometimes alteredChopin and Beethoven to suit herself. Fancy! Oh, I know your man willcheerfully keep on, not knowing the difference between good music andbad, and because he has always associated with rag-time people whothink any one who plays anything heavier than Hiawatha must have astandard so high that ordinary mortals cannot venture to criticise theperformance."

  "I perceive you are acquainted with the species. Yet, after all, Isometimes think it is a pity to know too much about music, for onecertainly has a narrower range of enjoyment."

  "But think of the quality of it."

  "I wonder if it is really more than that of a man I used to know atcollege who would say, 'Give me a bag of peanuts and an interestingbook and I'll enjoy myself.' Why, I read half of 'Les Miserables' atone sitting."

  "For peanuts read candy, and you will have about the speech of aschoolmate of mine."

  "Are you going to take up counterpoint and thorough-bass?" asked thedoctor.

  "Dear me, no. I don't aspire to composition. If I overcome techniqueand get in a little harmony I shall be doing well. I am doing intricateBach things now, but I have an inspiring teacher and I don't mind thehard work. You should hear her play. Talk of temperament! I never sawanything like her."

  "And I fancy Miss Nan Corner is not lacking in that particular."

  "I believe Mr. Harmer used to think so, but I feel like a veryautomaton compared to Frau Burg-Schmidt."

  "I haven't heard you play since you were at home last winter, but----"

  "Then you wouldn't let me practice; you told me to frivol, I remember."

  "You needed to frivol then. That is where it was a time to quench thefires of genius."

  "I believe I have felt years older since that experience," said Nanthoughtfully, "and I am sure it is why mother does not want to leave usalone again. I believe you had something to say to that, too, Dr. Paul."

  "You mustn't expect me to give away the secrets of my profession."

  "Then it is about the only thing you aren't willing to give away,"returned Nan laughing.

  "Do you like stingy people?"

  "Ask a Virginian that? Dear me, what are you thinking of? No, I supposeI am lacking in a proper admiration for thrift when I say that I wouldrather that a person were too extravagant than parsimonious."

  "I shall never be a rich man, I am afraid," said the doctor with a halfsigh.

  "Comfort yourself with thinking about the deceitfulness of riches, andkeep on being the generous man your father is, and you will be allright. Listen to my grandmotherly advice and remember that I have threeyounger sisters to deal with."

  "And I have none."

  "Then consider that Nan Corner is ready to be as sisterly as she knowshow, for any better big brother than you are to us all, I do not careto see. Here come mother and Aunt Helen."

  "And you have not played for me."

  "You must wait till my joints are so limber that I can make my fingersform a right angle with the back of my hand; that is what I am aimingat now."

  Then Mrs. Corner and Miss Helen came in and the doctor went forward tomeet them.

  CHAPTER XIV

  "STILLE NACHT"]