The Four Corners Abroad

"I hope he doesn't think all American girls are ready to make chance acquaintances in that way. All you say is quite true, Mary Lee, and for that very reason I don't want to discuss it with any one but mother or Aunt Helen. They know all about Jo and can make allowances. I will write to-night."

"I thought you had a lot of work to do and that was why you couldn't go this afternoon with us."

Nan sighed. "Yes, I have a lot, but I can get up early and finish it."

"It is pitch dark till nearly eight in the morning."

"I can get a lamp and go into the sitting-room."

Mary Lee was so used to leaving such matters to her elder sister that she didn't at once think of protesting. Moreover she was not quite so unselfish as Nan; she did love her morning nap and was not ready to give up an evening's fun with the Hoyts. But at last she said, a little reluctantly: "Couldn't I write the letter, Nan?"

"No, thanks, I reckon I'd better do it," said Nan lightly, and Mary Lee felt relieved not only that she had made the offer but that it had not been accepted.

But after all, Nan did not have to write the letter that evening, for Dr. Paul came in early. He generally stopped for a few minutes every day to see that all was right with his wards, as he called the girls. Jo had come home late, when the others were already seated at the supper table. She gave Mary Lee a top-loftical glance but carried on a conversation principally with Juliet and Maurice.

"She doesn't like it because I wouldn't stay with her and meet that creature," Mary Lee whispered to Nan as they left the dining-room.

"I'm glad you had the good sense not to," said Nan. "Did he come home with her?"

"I suppose so, though I don't know any more about it than you do."

Jo had not tarried with the girls, but had gone directly to the Hoyts' room, to which Mary Lee declared her intention of going also.

"That letter has got to be written, I plainly see," said Nan.

She was about to settle herself to her task, the others having congregated around Mrs. Hoyt, when Dr. Paul came in. Nan greeted him in a preoccupied way.

"Am I interrupting some important study?" he asked.

"No," replied Nan. "I was just beginning a letter to mother; that was all."

"Everything all right?"

"Ye-es." She spoke a little doubtfully, the shadow of Jo's affair still upon her.

Dr. Paul looked at her fixedly, his keen eye noticing the trouble in her face. "Look here, Nan," he said. "I don't believe everything is all right."

Nan recovered herself and smiled. "Oh, yes, it is. You'll not find a Corner who hasn't a clear conscience and a clean bill of health."

"That's good. Then I've no prescriptions to write, no advice to give you this time?"

Nan shook her head. "No, you'll have to look out for other patients."

"Then I'll not keep you from that letter. I know how precious time is just now. Where are the rest?"

"Where they generally are; over in Mrs. Hoyt's room 'ca'y'in on' as Mitty would say."

The doctor picked up his hat. "After all, it was only that the girl was thinking about her work," he told himself. He knew she was practicing for a musicale which was to be given by Frau Burg-Schmidt's pupils, and that she had much to do. He was about to go when he turned back. "Listen, Nan," he said. "Who is the German youth with the green cap I saw skating with your friend Jo, this afternoon?"

"Were you out there? Oh, he is a friend of Jo's." She tried to speak lightly.

"Do you know him?"

Nan was silent, but the question was too direct to avoid. "No," she answered truthfully, then hurriedly, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't believe he is the kind you all want to know."

"What makes you think so?"

"Well, I'll tell you the whole thing. I was standing with a fellow student watching the skaters when Miss Jo swung along with Green-Cap. She saw me and I bowed. I don't think she saw my friend who was just behind me. 'Who is that?' said he. 'A young compatriot of ours,' I told him. 'Nice girl.' 'Humph!' he said. 'I wonder where she picked up that fellow.' 'What's the matter with him?' I asked. 'He is a bad lot,' said my friend. 'I shouldn't like a sister of mine to be seen with him.' Later on I happened to be coming home directly behind the couple. They were laughing and talking in great shape. I noticed that none of you were along, and I wondered; that's all."

Nan stood leaning on the back of a chair, listening thoughtfully. "Sit down, Dr. Paul," she said. "I don't believe I shall have to write that letter to-night, for you happen to bring up the very subject I was going to write about. No, we don't know that young man. He is a chance acquaintance whom Jo has picked up without realizing it was anything out of the way. He asked if he might skate with her, and she, thinking it the custom, accepted his invitation. Mary Lee, whom you know is always a most proper and discreet young person, came away and left Jo. Mrs. Hoyt believing him to be a friend of ours hasn't inquired about him. She is an awfully jolly sort of somebody, and is really particular, but I think she doesn't want to appear fussy, and of course doesn't dream but that we all know this person. So, Jo has been going her own gait, and I am awfully bothered about it. I don't want to tell tales to Mrs. Hoyt, and have her annoyed with Jo. I don't want to tell Fräulein Bauer, for fear she would say Jo could not stay here, for the Fräulein is a great stickler of proprieties, and I could see nothing to do but to write to mother, though I hate to bother her."

The doctor looked down at her with a sympathetic expression in his dark eyes. "You are always shouldering somebody's burdens, Nan," he said. "I haven't forgotten last year."

"Oh, that was quite a different thing."

"If I remember right, Miss Jo was mixed up in that."

"Yes, in a way," Nan admitted. "Though she hadn't the least idea that she was, and as soon as she found out, you know she went straight to Miss Barnes and told her all about it."

"And this time she is going into an affair with her eyes open."

"Not exactly. You know she is a Western girl who has not had much care at home. Her mother died before Jo was big enough to remember her, and though the stepmother is a kind enough sort of person, she has no thought beyond her family of little children and Jo has had to hoe her own row always. Her father is away from home a good deal and absorbed in business so Jo has not had much chance."

"I see, and you think that all the more she should be warned. Have you said anything to her on the subject?"

"No, but Mary Lee has, and she thinks she is prudish."

"Well, I tell you you are not to think of this any more. I will settle it. You must leave it all to me."

"But you will not – " Nan began in alarm.

The doctor smiled. "I am not going to do anything rash, and Miss Jo shall not know that I know anything about her cuttings up. I have a scheme which I hope will work out all right and rid you all of the undesirable acquaintance. Do you trust me?"

"Indeed I do. You are always such a rock of defense, Dr. Paul," said Nan gratefully. "I don't know what I should do without you."

"I'd be a pretty sort of cad if I didn't look out for you," he said vehemently. "I'd like to bring young Bingham with me to call, if I may. He is a nice fellow, I can assure you. Your Fräulein will not object?"

"Oh, no, though she is a very good watchdog. So long as he comes with you he will be admitted. I am not so sure but that she would growl and show her teeth if he came alone."

"All right, I will stop in or will telephone to-morrow and tell you when to expect us. Now, remember, no more anxiety over Miss Jo and Herr Green-Cap. You promise?"

"I promise." Nan held out her hand, and as the door closed after the doctor she felt a distinct sense of relief that he should have taken her burden on his own shoulders. She could not resist going over to call Mary Lee out into the hall for a whispered conversation before going back to her studies, for which, after all, she would not have to rise before daylight.

Just what the doctor meant to do the girls could not imagine, and they were very curious to discover. True to his word, he called Nan up over the telephone the next day and said that he and Mr. Bingham would call that evening, if convenient.

"I'll ask the Fräulein," said Nan, and presently that lady herself came to the 'phone. Of course any friend of the Herr doctor would be acceptable. Yes, she would be pleased to receive them. Therefore when evening came she was established in the place of honor, the sofa, some time before the two visitors arrived. The Hoyts were out, the twins had gone to bed, therefore there was no excuse for Jo not to be present. She had rather avoided being alone with the girls, and was relieved when company came. She felt the unspoken disapproval in the manner of both Mary Lee and Nan, and resented it, though, in her heart of hearts, she could not help knowing there was reason for it.

Mr. Bingham was a pleasant, ruddy-faced young man, who, as he hailed from the West, was looked upon with favor by Jo. As was natural the talk fell upon student life. Mr. Bingham, being a university man, was good authority, for he had been in Munich two years.

"Do you know many of the students?" he asked Nan.

"Not one," she replied, "unless you can call Dr. Woods a student. We know a number of Dr. Mann's schoolboys, but you're the first real student we have met. I am glad you haven't let them slash your face."

"There is a law against dueling," Mr. Bingham told her. "But in some way the men manage to avoid it."

"They are very proud of their scars, I am told," remarked Jo.

"Yes, one of the men just out of the hospital told me proudly this morning that he had forty scars."

"Silly creature!" said Mary Lee scornfully.

"I never saw so many colored caps in all my life, but I suppose you don't sport one of those either," said Jo.

"No, I'm not a German, you see, and I don't join any of the societies which are strictly local affairs."

"Do you make friends with many of the German students?" asked Mary Lee; "and are they nice?"

"I know a number of very nice fellows. Of course there are all sorts, and as is the case everywhere there are some the better men don't care to know. Some of them are a pretty tough set. There is one in particular I happen to know about, who is sure to be sent up if he doesn't look out."

"Sent up where? This is interesting," said Jo.

"Well, you see there are certain rules, and if a man breaks them and gets found out he is liable to imprisonment for ten days. The university attends to all its own cases without recourse to the police."

"Oh, dear! Tell us some more. Do you know the man? Is he very wicked?" Mary Lee asked.

"He is simply a worthless, reckless nobody. He calls himself the son of a countess, and likes people to believe he will inherit a title himself. His mother did marry a count for her second husband, though her first husband, this fellow's father, was little more than a peasant. She herself is a mere adventuress from whom the count parted years ago, having found out her character. She is a handsome woman, they say, and quite fascinating; the son resembles her, I am told, not only in looks but in character."

The Corner girls did not dare to look at Jo, whose face was scarlet. All three were listening intently.

"Go on," said Nan with more than usual eagerness. "Tell us some more about him. It is quite like a story-book."

"His mother managed to get him into the university," Mr. Bingham went on, "but I imagine he has about run his career, for his escapades are becoming known to the faculty, and, moreover, his reputation has become such that none of the decent fellows want to be seen with him. He is tricky at cards and has done a number of shady things."

"I suppose you couldn't tell his name," said Nan. "We want to avoid him, you see," she added with a slight laugh.

"Oh, every one knows him. I am divulging no secret," replied Mr. Bingham. "His name is Karl Hofer."

Dr. Paul's scheme had worked well so far as Jo was concerned. She went from red to white and sat looking straight ahead. A sudden silence fell, broken presently by Dr. Paul, who had been talking to Fräulein Bauer and who now joined the others. "Have you dared to sit on a sofa lately?" he asked Nan. He turned to Mr. Bingham. "Miss Nan made the fatal error of taking her place on a sofa the very first time she called on a German household."

"Yes," said Nan glad of the change of subject, "and you should have seen the awful glance an old German dowager gave me. She came in just behind me. It was her proper place, of course. She quite forgave me, however, when she learned that I was a barbarous American and didn't know the customs. Since that time I have always taken the most unassuming chair in the room. But come, let's get Fräulein Bauer to tell us some German tales. She is very entertaining, really, Mr. Bingham, and she looks quite out in the cold sitting over there by herself with her knitting. She doesn't speak English, you know, but we can all understand enough German to get on all right."

They moved the chairs nearer the seat of state and the subject of students was left behind.

But after the visitors had departed and the girls were in bed with the lights all out from the corner where Jo's bed stood came a voice: "Girls, I have been making a perfectly silly ass of myself, but I've had my lesson. Please never mention green caps to me again, and do say that you do not utterly despise me."

"Of course we don't, Jo," came promptly from the other beds. And there the matter ended so far as Jo was concerned, though Nan had a word with the doctor later.

"Oh, you sly boots," she said. "How well you managed, and Jo never suspected. There you sat talking so sweetly to Fräulein and all the time – "

They both laughed. "Bingham and I thought it was worth a little manœuvering," said the doctor, "even at the risk of offending Miss Jo, but she took it just as we hoped she would, and no one is the wiser except ourselves. Bingham is the soul of honor and as chivalrous as an American gentleman should be, so our secret is safe."

CHAPTER XVII

GOOD-BYE MUNICH

For the rest of the time things went smoothly enough, the greatest excitement being the letter which was finally received from Hans Metzger. Frau Pfeffer gave Nan the news one day when she stopped to make inquiries of the switch-tender. The man had written to his sister before leaving the country, had told her of his illness in Dresden, but this letter Frau Pfeffer had never received. Now he wrote that he had a good place, better than he had ever dared think he could have, and would soon be able to send for his family.

"His family," exclaimed Mary Lee when Nan told her. "Is the whole outfit going? Frau Pfeffer and all those children?"

"I imagine so. Frau Pfeffer could not remember the name of the place where he is, but she says she will send the letter to us to read."

Bertha appeared the next day, her little thin face beaming. She looked very neat and clean, her cheeks fairly shining from soap and water, and her light hair drawn tightly back in two braids. The gracious ladies would please read the letter and she would wait to take it back again, for it was very precious.

Nan and Mary Lee sat down, their heads together. Nan was more proficient in deciphering German script than her sister and was the first to recognize a certain name which was prominent on the page. She gave a little scream of surprise. "Of all things! Mary Lee, do see."

"What?" Mary Lee did not quite take in what was meant.

"Why, look here, the man with whom Hans went over to America is Mr. Pinckney's superintendent, Mr. Wheeler. You know he came over to consult Mr. Pinckney on business matters and it is Mr. Pinckney's big place in New Jersey that Hans has gone to. Did you ever know anything so strange?"

"I truly never did. Are you sure, Nan, that it is the same?"

"Why of course it is. There is the name of the place at the head of the paper." She turned over the sheet and pointed out the heading. "I didn't think to look at it at first. Mr. St. Nick's place is named 'The Cedars' and there is the same post-office address. I know perfectly well, for we wrote to Miss Dolores when she was there one time. I should think you would remember that, Mary Lee."

"I do remember, of course, only I couldn't make out the name in that queer writing. It can't help being the same place. We must write to Mr. St. Nick and tell him all about it. He will be so interested, and I shouldn't wonder but he would ship the whole family right off; you know how he did about Christine and her grandfather. Let's tell Bertha."

They explained as well as they could, telling the little girl that her father was in a fine place and that they would all meet in America. As they had expected, Mr. Pinckney was greatly interested and there came a day not long after when Frau Pfeffer turned her last switch, discarded her green hat, picked up her feather bed and with her children set sail for America to the great satisfaction of the Corners, Jack and Jean being specially pleased that they had a hand in the matter.

A last walk in the Englischer Garten, a last look in the windows of the toy shops, a final farewell to the pigeons on the Odeonsplatz, one more promenade on the Parada and they said good-bye to Munich, to kind Fräulein Bauer, to the Hoyts, to the flock of schoolboys with whom they had had so many jolly times. Dr. Paul took the five damsels as far as Innsbruck and there delivered them into the hands of Miss Helen, who came thus far to meet them. Mrs. Corner had gone on to Verona, where they would make their next stop. The Hoyts, with a perfect phalanx of boys, stood on the platform to see them off, the boys sending a wild mountain cry after them to the scandal of the gatekeeper who frowned at the savage Americans.

Innsbruck was a fascinating enough place to call for a stop of twenty-four hours and Dr. Paul lingered with them during that time.

"I don't know how we are going to get along without you," declared Nan when he had put them all on the train for Verona and the time had come to part. "Aunt Helen, he has been such a comfort; just like a nice big brother, he is always looking out for us. We shall certainly miss you, Dr. Paul."

"Perhaps you don't think I shall miss you all," he said, "but I shall keep telling myself that it will not be so very long before we all shall meet again. Why couldn't we be fellow passengers across the sea? I shall be sailing from Genoa and you from Naples about the same time. Have you taken passage yet, Miss Helen?"

"Yes, we sail from Naples on the first of June by the North German Lloyd. Our steamer is the König Albert, I believe."

"I'll look up my own passage then and see if I can book for the same trip, and we'll call this simply auf wiedersehn." So they parted, he to return to Munich, which would seem sadly empty now, and they to go on to the delights of Italy.

At the hotel in Verona there was a glad meeting with their mutter, from whom they had been separated for all these weeks. There was so much to tell, that at first there was no desire to go out sightseeing, but the second day they began to wake up to the fact that the city held sights for them, and then they went forth to behold them.

"What is there to see here, Miss Helen?" Jo asked.

"A number of things. The Piazza delle Erbe, where used to be the old forum, is one of the most picturesque squares in Italy. You know that it was this city which received Dante after he was banished from Florence. You will see here many of the pictures of Pablo Caltari, the last really great master of the Venetian school; you all will know him better as Paul Veronese. And of course you know this was the home of Romeo and Juliet. A tomb is shown which is said to be Juliet's, though it is doubtful if it really is, and the house of her parents is pointed out."

"Were they real people? I never knew that," said Jo.

"The play is said to be founded on fact, and we are told that it was in the fourteenth century that the two lovers lived and died. It may not be absolutely true, but tradition says that there were actual happenings in Verona which resembled those of which Shakespeare wrote. I think we can spend a couple of days here very pleasantly, for it is a handsome city as well as an interesting one."

"And then for San Marco and the gondolas," cried Nan.

"Where shall we go in Venice, to a hotel or a pension?" Mary Lee asked.

"We are going to a pleasant place on the Riva degli Schiavoni where we shall have rooms and breakfast with whatever other meals we choose to have served. We shall sometimes be at too great a distance to get back promptly to meals, so we can always have our midday meal, at least, wherever we choose."

"I like that way of doing things," declared Jo. "One doesn't have to break one's neck in order to get back in time and there is a sort of excitement in the uncertainty of what you are going to get and the kind of place you will strike."

For two days they wandered about Verona, looking at the old painted houses, the palaces, the churches, and then the expectant hearts of at least three of the girls beat high as they neared Venice.

"I see a red sail," cried Mary Lee, looking from the car window.

"And there is a yellow one," announced Jean. "Oh, look, there are lots and lots of boats and more colored sails."

"Are we going in a gondola first thing?" asked Jack. "If the streets are all water we shall have to, shan't we?"

"Yes," her mother told her. "The gondolas are the cabs of Venice and will take us anywhere we want to go."

"I'm just crivering," said Jean as they stepped aboard the black craft which Mrs. Corner had selected.

"Sit down with your crivers," directed Nan. "Isn't it too delicious for anything? I foresee where all my spending money goes; hiring gondolas and just drifting up and down between these old palaces."

"But you must buy beads. You promised half a dozen girls to bring them some," Mary Lee reminded her.

"Don't talk to me of beads yet. Look at that red cloth hanging out from that balcony, Jo. Now I know we are in Venice. It looks exactly like the pictures. I am sure that church we are coming to is the Santa Maria della Salute."

"Where are the pigeons?" asked Jean.

"They are on the Piazza San Marco; we haven't come to that yet," Nan told her. "Do we turn off here? What is that place over there, Aunt Helen?"

"That is the little island and church of San Giorgio Maggiore, and next to it across that broad canal is the island of Giudecca. The canal has the same name; the church is called the Redentore."

The gondola turned out of the Grand Canal into the canal of San Marco and soon its passengers alighted in front of a house on the Riva degli Schiavoni where they were expected and where they found letters waiting for them.

"When can we go to the glass factory? When can we go to the bead shop? How soon are you going to take us to feed the pigeons? When shall we be ready for another ride in a gondola?" were the questions showered on Miss Helen by her nieces as soon as they had looked their rooms over and had decided where they would put their belongings.

"We can't do all those things at once, you badgering youngsters. Let me see what time it is. No bead shop and no glass factory, anyhow, to-day. If it isn't too late we will walk over to the Piazza and if the pigeons are there they shall be fed. As for the gondola, we'll see about that later."

The light had not left the sky when they stood on the Piazza San Marco. The rich mosaics of the beautiful church caught the rays of the setting sun, the pigeons were wheeling about overhead, and settling down in crowds upon the pavement.

"It beats anything I have ever seen yet," said Jo admiringly. "Just look at those great horses over the church door. Where did they come from? Tell us, Miss Helen."

Miss Helen turned over the leaves of her Baedeker. "They are five feet high and are among the finest of ancient bronzes. They probably once adorned the triumphal arch of Nero and after of Trajan. Constantine sent them to Constantinople. The Doge Dandolo brought them to Venice in 1204. In 1797 Napoleon carried them to Paris where later they adorned the triumphal arch in the Place du Carousel. In 1815 they were restored to Venice and set up where you now see them."