The Four Corners in Japan

by Amy Ella Blanchard

  CHAPTER XVIII

  JACK'S EYES ARE OPENED

  Mary Lee's opportunity came sooner than she expected and in a mannershe had not looked for. Jack brought a pile of mail to her one morningand then went off to distribute other letters, but she had espied oneletter whose contents she much desired to know, although she did notshow the least curiosity at the moment. Later in the day she took painsto seek out Mary Lee at a moment when she knew she would be alone inher room. "Well," began Jack, "what did the mail bring you to-day?"

  "Oh, a lot of letters," returned Mary Lee. "One from Jo, and CousinMag's usual nice fat one, and one from Rita; she doesn't often write tome because Nan is generally the favored one."

  Jack waited, but Mary Lee did not mention the correspondent in whom shewas specially interested.

  "Rita say anything of Rob Powell?" queried Jack to make conversation.

  "No, not to me; she may have mentioned him to Nan. I notice that Nanhad a letter, too."

  "What do you think Mr. Harding asked me the other day?" said Jacksuddenly. "He wanted to know if Nan were engaged."

  "What did you tell him?" Mary Lee asked quickly.

  "I told him I didn't know. I knew there was some one greatly interestedin her and in whom we thought she was interested, but she had nevertold any of us that she was actually engaged."

  "Why did you tell him that?"

  "Oh, because I wanted to let him know that blessed old Nan could haveattention even if she were getting on."

  "Oh, Jack, you ridiculous little goose; as if a girl only twenty-threecould be said to be getting on. Nan is a mere child."

  "Oh, Mary Lee, she doesn't seem so to me."

  "She does to every one who has any sense. Just because she is theeldest you have fallen into the habit of thinking of her as an elderlyperson; the sooner you get out of it the better. Did Mr. Harding ask ifyou were engaged?"

  "No."

  "What would you have told him if he had asked?"

  "I would have hedged."

  Mary Lee determined to press the question home this time. "But aren'tyou?" she asked.

  "Has Cart been telling you anything?" queried Jack with a quick glanceat the pile of letters on the table by her sister's side.

  "I know what his feelings are without his telling me. Is theresomething to tell, then?" she asked diplomatically.

  "Nothing for him to tell, nothing he has any right to. If he shouldtell, there would cease to be anything existing to tell."

  "What a very mystical remark. Japan has laid its spell upon you. Ifthere were anything he should not tell it oughtn't to exist, of course.I can make that much out."

  "Oh, there is nothing so very dreadful about it, only----" Jack paused.

  "About what, Jack? You might tell your own sister."

  Jack shut her lips resolutely and shook her head.

  "Poor old Cart," said Mary Lee reaching for the letter which lay on topof the heap.

  "Why 'poor'?" jerked out Jack.

  "I've just had a letter from him."

  "It's more than I have had, then," returned Jack.

  "I imagine he believes you don't care for one. When did you write tohim last, Jack?"

  Jack answered reluctantly. "Not since we left San Francisco to comehere."

  "Why, Jack Corner, I think that is cruelty to animals. Why haven't youwritten?" Mary Lee spoke indignantly.

  "Oh, just because."

  "That's no reason. Have you quarreled with Carter?"

  "Not exactly. He is so tiresome about some things."

  "What special thing?"

  "Oh, just a soft, silly thing."

  "Well, I think you ought to write. He is mightily discouraged. He isill and wretched, poor boy."

  Jack leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the letter which Mary Lee didnot offer her. "It isn't--it isn't--his old trouble, is it?" shequestioned, a note of anxiety in her voice.

  "No, I don't think so, but he seems tired and heart-sick, somehow as ifthe world were all awry. I never had such a doleful letter from him,and Nan's is about like it. It isn't Carter's way at all to be bitterand talk of giving up and going to the uttermost parts of the earth."

  "Very likely he doesn't mean it," said Jack regaining her hard manner.

  "We might think so if Mrs. Roberts hadn't written to Aunt Helen thatCarter was looking wretchedly and that he had overworked and they wereurging him to go abroad, and to spend next winter in Egypt."

  Jack made no reply but left the room and a moment later was at her AuntHelen's door. "May I see Mrs. Roberts' letter, Aunt Helen?" she asked."Mary Lee said you had heard from her."

  "Why, yes," was the answer, "you can see it, of course."

  Jack took the missive which her aunt hunted up and went over to thewindow, keeping her back turned. She stood some time pretending to bestill reading when she had really come to the end of the last page,but the truth was, her eyes were full of tears. She did not see a bodyof gallant troops go marching bravely by, nor did she notice a band ofpilgrims carrying staves, girt about the loins, and wearing great strawhats. She presently wiped one eye in a manner as if a mote were in it,then after a while she furtively did the same to the other, and whenshe considered that all undue moisture must be removed, she handed backthe letter saying cheerfully, "She writes quite a newsy letter, doesn'tshe? Too bad Cart isn't feeling up to the mark." She made a few morelight remarks and then went back to Mary Lee.

  "Do you mind my seeing Cart's letter?" she asked meekly.

  "Certainly you can see it," Mary Lee responded. "I would have offeredit to you before but I didn't gather from your manner that it wouldinterest you."

  Spunky Jack made no reply to this, but took the letter and sat down.Once or twice Mary Lee glanced at her, and noticed that by degrees Jackhad swung her chair around so that her face was almost hidden. "Shecares a lot more than she pretends," Mary Lee commented inwardly.

  After a while Jack returned the letter with a backward movement of herarm, her face being more turned away.

  Mary Lee got up to take it but did not stop there. She came aroundto face her younger sister, whose eyes were wet and whose lips weretrembling. "Jack," said she, "suppose you should never see Carteragain."

  Jack started up with a cry and pushed her sister from her. "Don't,don't," she said fiercely. "How can you say such cruel things?"

  "But if you don't care, Jack, and if you make Carter think you donot, it is you who are cruel." Then her voice became very gentle andsad as she went on. "Jack, you poor little child, you don't knowwhat it means to lose one you love very dearly. I do know, and so Ican tell you this that it is my greatest comfort to remember all theloving things that were said to me, and to feel that Phil knew that Iloved him as dearly as he loved me. If he had died without knowing, Icouldn't have stood it. We were separated all those last months but hisletters to me are my life now and I know mine were the greatest joyto him. I was no older than you when he told me what I was to him. Wekept it a secret because we were so young, but, oh, Jack, think what Ishould have lost if I hadn't my memories."

  By this time Jack was crying softly, but with no effort at concealment,her head buried in her sister's lap as she sat on the floor. "I amall you say, a wicked, cruel girl," she sobbed. "I do love him, and Itold him I would marry him when I was through college, but I wouldn'tlet him mention it again because he wanted to kiss me. That was whatmade me mad, and this last time he wanted to kiss me good-bye and Ididn't write just to punish him for it. The first time it was because Ithought he took too much for granted, and the last time it was becauseI wanted to show him he couldn't break the compact."

  "What was the compact?"

  "He was not to say a word of love to me or mention that I had made himany promise. If he did, I said I wouldn't marry him."

  "And has he?"

  "No, but he did ask me to kiss him good-bye."

  "I think it has been pretty hard on him, for it gave you a chance to doas you please and yet it bound him."

  "I kno
w, and I was very selfish, but I didn't want it known, Mary Lee."

  "No, of course not, and it needn't be known now, although I wish youwould tell Nan."

  "Why?"

  "Because she thinks you like Mr. Harding, and I am pretty sure if itwere not that she believes she must not stand in your way, she wouldlike him mightily herself."

  Jack lifted her tear-stained face.

  "Oh, Mary Lee, have I been twice a selfish pig? Poor, dear old Nan.I never once thought of her in the matter. I was mad because Carterdidn't write and I told myself I would have a good time and I would goback and tell him about it. I never thought of hurting Nan. Of course Iwill tell her, and what is more I will tell him, if you say I ought."

  "I don't think you need do that, but I do think you ought to show thesame grace Nan has shown you whenever you walked off with Mr. Harding."

  "You don't think then that it is Rob Powell whom Nan likes?"

  "No, I am pretty sure she doesn't care a rap for him except as afriend."

  "What a blundering idiot I have been, to be sure. Well, I will make upfor it to Carter, and to Nan, too, if I can. Thank you, Mary Lee, forbringing me to my senses. You don't really think I shall never see Cartagain, do you?"

  "I hope you will, and I think the very best way to cure him will be foryou to write him a letter such as you know he is longing for."

  "I will, I really will, and what is more I will do it this minute."

  Jack never did anything by halves, though it must be confessed thatshe made it an excuse to write that she wanted to interest Carter andthe Robertses in Toku. She wanted him trained as a good servant sothat when she had her own home he could live with her. What did Carterthink of that? Wasn't she far-seeing? They had been telling her that hewas not well. He must hurry and chirk up for her sake. She was lookingforward to seeing him on her return and then----The rest was leftto the imagination, but at the end of the letter there was a funnylittle scalloped character which was not explained at all, and awaydown in one corner of the page was written in very fine letters, almostmicroscopic, "If you love me you may tell me so once when you nextwrite." Altogether it was a very Jack-like document, yet never beforehad Carter received one which gave him such assurance of Jack's realfeeling for him.

  Her letter finished, Jack proceeded to hunt up Nan whom she found quitealone in the garden. "I've just been writing to Carter," she announcedcheerfully. "Why didn't you show me his letter, Nan?"

  "Because it was so dispirited and I didn't want to spoil your goodtimes," returned Nan.

  "Poor old Cart," said Jack. "Do you think he is really ill, Nan?"

  "I think he is more heart-sick than body sick."

  "All because of wicked me, do you reckon? I am a beast, Nan. I am freeto confess it, but I am not going to be so any more. When Carter and Iare married, I am going to have Toku for our very best servant."

  "When Carter and you are married?" exclaimed Nan. "I thought that wasall over and done with, Jack, that it was only a childish idea."

  "It isn't," returned Jack with decision. "I shall never marry any onebut Carter, and he knows it, or he will know it by the time he has readmy letter. I know I seem like a skittish, heartless creature, and I dolike to jolly around with the boys, but Carter is my single steady andalways will be. I wanted you to know, Nan, because I know Carter writesto you oftener than to any of the others, and I don't want you to tellhim things that are simply figments of your brain, as I might give youreason to do sometimes if you didn't know the bona fide truth. Youmustn't always trust appearances, you know. They are deceptive. Are youglad, Nan, you old dear?" She looked at her sister mischievously, sothat Nan checked her impulse to hug her.

  "Of course I am glad," she returned. "You know that Cart is alreadyjust like a brother, and I have felt so awfully sorry for him of latethat I could almost have cried. I did want you to be happy," she saidwistfully, "even if Carter were sacrificed, but it seemed pretty hardon him."

  "You blessed old thing," cried Jack, herself giving the caress Nan hadwithheld. "You are about the most loyal and faithful darling out. Idon't deserve such sisters."

  With this remark she walked off, leaving Nan uplifted and yet at thesame time strangely apprehensive of facing her own future. She haddriven Neal Harding from her by her coolness and indifference. Would heever return? Had he not already learned to prefer Jack? She shook offthese doubts at last and went back to the house with a determinationnot to interfere with fate again.

  In the meantime, Jack had continued on with her performance of duty.She had met Mr. Harding, and had asked if he didn't want to go with herto mail a very important letter. He acquiesced, of course, and on theway she let it be known that the letter was to an especial somebody whomust have it by the very earliest outgoing mail, and then craftily shelet him know that Nan was sending no such letters, and that she, Jack,had discovered that Nan's interest in a certain individual was purelya friendly one. Then with a virtuous feeling of having done all thatcould possibly be expected of her, Jack returned to the hotel not evenhinting at such a proposition as extending the walk.

  "You won't say anything to Eleanor, will you?" said Jack to hersisters. "It is a family secret, remember. Of course I shall tellmother and Jean as soon as I see them. I suppose I ought to have toldthem before, for it isn't nice to have even one secret from yourbestest mother and your own twin."

  "Yes, you must tell them," agreed her sisters, Mary Lee adding, "Motherwas the only one I told when I had my secret, and she never so much ashinted it to any one."

  Jack sighed. "I think we'd better be getting back to those two prettysoon, and I don't care how soon we sail for the States." Her sistersunderstood that she could not reach California too soon, and that shewould not mind in the least a little delay there before starting forher own home.

  "You'll not tell Eleanor," she repeated.

  "Oh, no," promised the others, "but we cannot help her forming her ownconclusions."

  What these conclusions were, Mary Lee found out that very evening whenEleanor enticed her off into the garden. "I have tried to pump Neal,"she said, "but he is mute as a clam, and I can get nothing from him butthat he has no right to poach on another's preserves."

  "He knows there is no other and that there is a free way to thepreserves," Mary Lee told her.

  "What do you mean?" cried Eleanor.

  "Jack has taken it upon her contrary little self to inform him thatnobody has any claim on Nan."

  "What made her do it?"

  "Oh, she took the notion after my having impressed it upon her thatNan was not thinking about Rob. To give Jack credit she assumed thatNan was, and moreover," Mary Lee laughed, "she thought Nan quite tooantique to form any new attachments."

  Eleanor laughed too. "The point of view of eighteen. Isn't it funny?"

  "I don't suppose she would have looked upon Nan as such a fossil if shewere not the eldest of the Corners," Mary Lee went on, "but all herlife Jack has been accustomed to look up to Nan and to have it dingedinto her that she must regard her eldest sister as second only to hermother."

  "I see, and what do you suppose will happen now?"

  "Don't know. It is getting a trifle exciting, isn't it?"

  "I shall lose all my respect for Neal if he doesn't take advantage ofhis opportunities," Eleanor went on. "We must consent to that walk toSakusa to-morrow if we fall by the way, for it will be such a greatchance for confidences. I want to tell you something, Mary Lee. Mr.Montell is coming to-night."

  "He is? Aha, my young miss, so there will be chances for more thanthose other two."

  "Oh, I didn't mean that," said Eleanor in confusion. "Don't allow yourunbridled fancies to roam too far afield."

  Mary Lee shook her head sagely. "I think my own thoughts," she remarked.

  She and Jack contrived to interest Miss Helen in such a way that Nanwas not missed that evening. Jack made her confession which Miss Helenreceived as they knew she would. She was very fond of Carter who wasthe son of one of her old school
friends, and she had long ago formedher own opinion of the affair.

  "I couldn't ask for a dearer nephew than Carter Barnwell," she toldJack, "but you are nothing but a baby yet, Jack."

  "I have been so informed more than once to-day," returned Jack. "I knewyou would all think I was too young, and indeed, Aunt Helen, I haven'ta notion of being married till I have left college. I wouldn't havetold only Mary Lee thought I ought."

  "You certainly ought if there is really an understanding between you,"said her aunt.

  "I suppose there is," Jack responded, "though I had intended to keepCart guessing for some time yet, but now that he is so miserableI can't do it. I had to give him just a wee little twinkling ofencouragement in thinking I meant what I said, but it must be a deadsecret to all but the family."

  In spite of her cheerful exterior, Jack was the least happy of thegroup that night, for while Nan lay blissfully making plans for themorrow and Eleanor was beginning to ask herself searching questionswhich her evening with Mr. Montell had created, Jack was wondering ifCarter were really ill and would he be worse before her letter reachedhim. Alas! that it took so long for the mail to span the distancebetween them. If she could but visit him in spirit to whisper all thather heart would say. That night Jack's chickens came home to roost ifthey never had before, and of all who were to make the pilgrimage tothe sacred grove on the morrow no wish more fervent than hers would beoffered up at the shrine for lovers.

  CHAPTER XIXVOTIVE OFFERINGS]