# The Black Cat (magazine)/Volume 2/Number 10/A Geometrical Design

A Geometrical Design.
by Mary Foote Arnold.
At the time of her death Aunt Ellen was old, wealthy, and eccentric; how eccentric we did not fully realize until we had learned, through her will, of the strange conditions which prevented us from at once entering upon our inheritance.
As mother had been quite ill at the time Aunt Ellen died, none of us had attended the funeral. But a week later, when the package arrived containing a copy of the will and Aunt Ellen's letter, mother was well enough to appear at the breakfast table.
Of course, the will received our first attention, Caroline reading it aloud. Like all documents of the kind, it was written in legal form and was properly signed, witnessed, and attested. The paragraphs which especially interested us were as follows:—
"I, Ellen Weathersby, being of sound mind and memory, do will and bequeath my entire estate to that one of my three nieces, named, respectively, Caroline Weathersby, Ellen Ann Weathersby, and Mary Weathersby, daughters of my brother, the late William Weathersby, who shall find the proofs of said estate during the year following the date of my death. Said proofs are in a small iron box, and consist of deeds to my real estate, bonds, mortgages, certificates of stock in various mining and manufacturing concerns, the family jewels, and a sum of gold.
"Furthermore, I will and decree that said nieces with their mother, Mary Ann Weathersby, shall reside, rent free, in my furnished house in Strangetown for one year, beginning with the ​date of my death , in order that my nieces shall have abundant opportunity to search for said proofs in said box. If, at the end of said year, no one of my nieces shall have found such proofs, then Caroline, Ellen Ann, and Mary Weathersby, and their mother, Mary Ann Weathersby, shall move out of my house and relinquish all claim to my estate.
"In such case, a second will made by me, and left with Cyrus Clifford, president of the First National Bank of Strangetown, shall be opened, and my estate settled according to its provisions.
"Furthermore, I decree that the contents of this will shall be known only to my three nieces, their mother, the two witnesses, and the executor herein named, until after the expiration of one year from the date of my death. Otherwise this will shall become null and void, the second will becoming the true will.
"I hereby appoint Cyrus Clifford executor under both wills, he to furnish customary bond."
The explanatory letter, which was addressed to mother, and which accompanied this unique document, was characteristic of Aunt Ellen, showing, as it did, her hatred and distrust of men, her petty economies, and her firm belief that her way was the only way.
Caroline read:—
Dear Sister-in-law:—The time has come when I cannot reasonably expect to live much longer, therefore I have made such disposal of my estate as will enable me to die with a clear conscience and a peaceful heart.
I have made two wills, both of which are held in trust by Cyrus Clifford, whom I selected as executor, because I am convinced that he is too cowardly to be otherwise than upright, he being a prominent Methodist, and afraid to follow those impulses natural to all men.
I have thought of leaving my worldly goods to some noble charity; but after all, "blood is thicker than water," and as I near the end my heart turns to my next of kin. Would they were worthy of my beneficence!
Doubtless you can recall, Mary Ann, that during my annual visits to your home in the past, I have sometimes criticized the methods by which you have brought up your family. It is not all of life to be musical, literary, and society favorites. It pains me to write it, but your daughters have no practical knowledge of ordinary affairs, and, more deplorable yet, none of that good old commodity—sound common sense.
A woman who is not ashamed to use her hands in any honest employment will retain the respect of all right-thinking people. To this end, I once advised you to keep a cow, suggesting that Caroline should do the milking, and thus enable you to add to your narrow income by the sale of the milk. ​But no, Caroline must keep her hands in good condition to practise her music; and the other girls had a horror of cows!
Equally trivial was Ellen Ann's excuse, when I suggested that she should collect the remnants which are going to waste in your scrap bags, and piece a quilt with which to eke out your bedding. Ellen Ann was preparing for college, and had to study her Greek and Latin. (I doubt her ability; she is too much like you, Mary Ann, whose book learning was always superficial.)
You may remember, also, that Mary (foolishly nicknamed Molly) once flatly refused to trim the grass borders of the path with sheep shears, though I carefully explained to her that by so doing she would save a laborer's hire, and that "a penny saved is a penny earned." But Mary will never do any thing but laugh, and talk, and have a good time.
I could cite other instances, but these are enough to illustrate my point. I forgive my nieces for their past misdoings, and offer them one more chance.
For they are Weathersbys.
The iron box is in a safe place, and will not easily be found, if I know your daughters, and I think I do. However, should one of them be smart enough to find it, the box and all that is in it and pertains to it shall be hers to do with as she pleases.
The hiding place of the box will be marked by a sign. That sign is a circle within a circle.
The key is with Cyrus Clifford, though he does not know the whereabouts of the box it unlocks. No man should be trusted too far.
It is only proper to state that I have deposited a sum of money with an attorney named Otis (who appears honest, though there is no telling—at least, he does not smoke cigarettes), with which he is to pay all insurance and taxes due on my houses and lands, in advance for one year, beginning with the date of my death. He will also collect all rentals pertaining to said houses and lands, and deposit the funds therefrom in the First National Bank with Cyrus Clifford, who will hold them in trust until the expiration of the year.
Mr. Otis and my servant, Amanda Cummins, are the witnesses to the first will. Amanda can be trusted to hold her tongue. I know not about Mr. Otis, he being a man.
No one except my three nieces shall participate in the search, nor shall they receive advice upon the subject from any one.
Good-by to all, and good luck to one of you.
Affectionately,
ELLEN WEATHERSBY.
By the time Caroline had finished reading this frank and ingenuous epistle we were all bordering on that state of mind vulgarly described as being "knocked silly." We were amused, indignant, and disappointed by turns. We stared at one another mistily.
"So my year abroad to study the great masters turns out to be a myth of the first quality,” said Caroline, trying to speak lightly.
​"And I shall have the pleasure of working my way through college after all," said Ellen Ann, with quivering lip.
I (nicknamed Molly) swallowed something in my throat and burst out: "Girls, we m-must find that box if we h-have to b-bl-ow the h-house up to do it," then broke down completely.
All of which but showed the sad straits we were in, and that each had secretly nourished a hope that Aunt Ellen's will would bring us succor. For if ever there was a family of four dilapidated women in need of money, we were that family.
We moved to Strangetown.
Being young, we soon were more hopeful, and came to regard this queer episode in our lives in the nature of a prolonged lark which might terminate at any minute in something quite splendid. An acute sense of the ridiculous, coupled with our love of mystery, did much to bring about this state of affairs. Then, too, our pride was aroused. It was clearly our duty to disprove Aunt Ellen's accusations, and only when the prize had been found and divided (for, of course, we expected to share it equally) could we feel that this had been done.
The homestead was spacious, comfortable, and well furnished in the fashion of fifty years ago. The grounds surrounding it were large and well kept. Years before we bad heard tales of secret drawers and closets in this very house, and of Aunt Ellen's habit of keeping large sums of money concealed in the house and about her person. Already our wits were sharpening and a delightful expectancy pervaded our every action.
One night about a week after our arrival in Strangetown, Ellen Ann and I were awakened by Caroline. She stood at our bedside in her nightgown, a tall candle shedding its rays upon her excited features. "Get up , girls, I've found the sign," she whispered.
Half dazed, we followed her to where an ancient chiffonier stood against the wall. Caroline placed a trembling finger on the quaint carving which embellished its old sides. Sure enough, there, faintly outlined between a dragon's claws, was a circle within a circle!
We became very wide awake, indeed. We had hardly expected to find the treasure so soon, yet here we were just on the verge of its discovery. At first, we thought of calling mother to ​share the fun of unearthing it; then concluded that, after all, it would be pleasanter to surprise her with it at the breakfast table. How we worked! We removed drawers, measured partitions, examined corners and peered into crevices. Our teeth chattered with the cold; our heads ached with the excitement. At dawn we crept back to bed with our spirits at zero.
At dinner the next evening we again discovered the sign in the carved legs of the old black walnut table at which we sat. Later, the sign appeared on chairs, bookcases, bureaus, and wardrobes. In fact, nearly every article of furniture in the house seemed to have been carved after the same pattern. We carefully examined each in turn, until we became convinced that no iron box could possibly be hidden within it.
Then we attacked the walls. Two rooms were newly papered, the design being trailing vines festooned in circles, one within the other. We examined every inch of those walls, first with a mallet to detect hollow places, then with a magnifying glass to bring to light otherwise invisible cracks.
After that up came the carpets, some of which were replete with that pattern which now recurred with sickening frequency. Under the carpets and on the board floors were circles painted in dual hues; black within white and red within yellow. We invested in a tool chest and took turns in sawing. We removed sections of the floors and poked long sticks between the joists, listening meanwhile for the sound of clanking iron. This we kept up for a week, then stopped to rest. Old Amanda, who had stayed with us for a song, cleared up the muss, smiling grimly.
The conviction was growing within us that there was method in Aunt Ellen's madness. She had gained one point,—she had made us work at last. Instead of devoting six hours a day to her music, Caroline now practised by fits and starts, and Ellen Ann read Greek only as a diversion. As for me, though my body sometimes lagged, my spirits never did.
The necessity for secrecy about the occupation in which we spent our days sometimes made it awkward for us when the young people of the neighborhood became over-curious. For that reason Mr. Otis, the young attorney who had found favor in Aunt Ellen's eyes, made an especially agreeable companion. For he was in the ​secret, and we could talk freely before him. And though he could not advise us, he listened to the recitals of our experiences and the reiterations of our hopes and fears with remarkable fortitude. He was quite handsome, with dark, sympathetic eyes, and a friendly smile. We took to him immediately, and it came to be quite a matter of course that Mr. Otis should appear in our drawing room (or rather, the drawing room which we fondly hoped would some day be ours) several times a week.
I sometimes fancied, though, for all his apparent interest in our one absorbing topic, that somehow Mr. Otis disapproved of it, and even, occasionally, avoided talking about it. At such times he would listen to Caroline's music, or read Browning and Ruskin with Ellen Ann, or even talk nonsense with me.
In this pleasant way winter slipped into spring, and the hiding place of the iron box still remained a mystery. One morning, Ellen Ann appeared before us, her clothing covered with dust, and a zigzag line of soot running from chin to eyebrow.
"The sign is in the cellar; hurry up!" she exclaimed.
We hurried up—and down. There in plain sight, laid on end in the hard cement floor, were two circles of bricks, one within the other. We looked and looked again. To be sure; how blind we had been!
Then three young women who had once refused, respectively, to milk a cow, to piece a quilt, and to cut grass with shears, now took hammer, chisel, crowbar, and spade, and pried up those bricks and dug the earth out from under them. After two days of this, we collapsed and took to our beds.
Before that mother had maintained a position of strict neutrality; she now asserted her authority and said such foolishness must stop. We must use reason or give up the search altogether.
"Mr. Otis called this evening," she added, "and I was forced to invent excuses for you. I was ashamed to give the true reason why none of you could receive him."
Our answer to that was one dismal, triple groan.
However, we received mother's admonitions with becoming meekness and refrained from further research for a time. Meanwhile a judicious use of liniment restored our muscles to their normal condition.
​As spring advanced, the crocuses came up in rings of two; the tulips and daffodils followed suit; and circles of lilies of the valley peeped forth from wreaths of fern. In truth, the whole place presented a tantalizing arrangement of circles within circles.
A mania for transplanting seized upon us. More "horticultural atrocities" were perpetrated that summer than were ever dreamed of in Aunt Ellen's philosophy. Old ladies calling on mother remarked that her daughters seemed so fond of gardening, and callow youths looking over the back fence asked our reasons for transplanting asparagus into the pansy bed.
When we found the sign carved into the bark of the different shade trees, and chiseled into the stone foundation of the house (with a hand pointing downward), we realized that Aunt Ellen's sense of humor had been greatly underrated by us. She had evidently spent months, if not years, in preparing this cruel joke. Discouraged and humiliated, we resumed the duties of our former life, which now seemed stale and unprofitable.
About this time life, to me, assumed a singular aspect. I seemed to lose interest in everything, even in the iron box, and liked best of all to sit quite still and look into space. I became absent-minded, lost my appetite, had strange forebodings of some calamity about to befall me, and felt as if I had buried all my friends. Above all, I hated to hear Caroline sing to Mr. Otis. Mother said I had malaria, and gave me quinine, which I swallowed without a murmur, and had visions—which I shall not record. For even I did not recognize the malady which had laid me low.
Mr. Otis, too, seemed changed in some unaccountable way. He no longer chatted with me, but evinced a feverish desire to sing duets with Caroline, or to discuss psychology with Ellen Ann. Yet often when he was in the midst of a song or a discussion, I would find his melancholy eyes fixed upon me with so inscrutable an expression as to send my pulse fluttering high into the nineties. More curious still, he who had hitherto been, apparently, so indifferent to the hiding place of the iron box now became painfully anxious as to its whereabouts. Not a day passed but he asked each of us in turn if we were any nearer the solution of the ​mystery. The sickening thought came to me that perhaps he wanted to marry one of my sisters, but waited to see which one should win the prize; then I cast the thought from me. I would not believe that he was so mercenary.
Our year of probation was almost over; only two more days remained. We held a family conclave that morning, and agreed that we might as well abandon the search. That we might break the will did not occur to us; besides, we recognized Aunt Ellen's right to do as she pleased with her own.
That evening Ellen Ann attended a meeting of the Shakespeare Club, and Caroline went to choir rehearsal. Mother kept her room with a nervous headache. (Heartless as it sounds, I shall never cease to be thankful that the poor dear was so ill that night.) I was idly drumming on the piano when who should come but Mr. Otis! I was intensely surprised to see him, but, of course, tried to be polite. I offered him a chair; then we said nothing for several minutes. When at last I looked up, there were those eyes gazing at me with that melancholy expression which I knew so well, and which seemed to read my very soul.
"You have not found the box yet, I suppose?" he asked.
That box again! Like the sting of a whip lash, it brought me to myself.
"Mr. Otis," said I, with great dignity, "to relieve your mind, I will say that we have not found the box, nor do we expect to find it. I, myself, have given up the search. Like Pandora's box, it is more trouble than it is worth."
But my chilling manner seemed only to make him glad. He came to the sofa and sit down beside me.
"Do you mean that, Molly?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Otis," I answered.
"Say 'Oliver,'" said he softly.
I said "Oliver"; his eyes blazed so that I dared not refuse.
Then he took my hand and held it; and out of respect to his mood I did not take it away. Which was quite improper, I know, but what can a girl do when a man acts that way?
"Molly," he again said very softly, "are you sure that you cannot find the box?"
​"Yes!" said I, so emphatically that he almost dropped my hand (but not quite).
"Then, Molly, I must tell you that I love you."
With that I looked into his face, our eyes met, and—I really can not write it.
But we came to a perfect understanding; those strange forebodings and that vague unrest left me, and I became singularly calm. I knew now that life was worth living, box or no box.
It seems that Oliver had loved me from the very first, though he had not intended to tell me so until after the search bad ended. For he did not believe we would find the box, and he did not want my family to think he was a fortune hunter. (The very idea!) But finding me alone that evening and the time so nearly up, he threw caution to the winds—and there we were.
Gratitude welled within me that I had been spared the discovery of the box. Then the startling thought came, suppose I had found it! What then? I solemnly propounded this question to Oliver. But before he could reply my sisters came in, and to this day I do not know what his answer would have been.
The next morning mother was still quite miserable, and sent word that she did not wish to be disturbed. The girls came to breakfast with red eyes and an aversion to cheerful subjects of conversation. They realized, poor things, that this was to be the last day in the dear old house. I tried my best to be solemn, too, but the joy within would bubble up.
An hour after breakfast I slipped out to take a walk towards the business part of the town. I said that I wanted to buy some thread, then tried to feel sorry as I thought of the time coming when even thread would be considered a luxury by my family.
To buy the thread I was obliged to pass a certain office; of course I did not dream of seeing Oliver, and to preclude such a possibility I kept on the opposite side of the street. But when I got just opposite the office, I timidly raised my eyes to see the place where my beloved passed so many hours each day.
There I saw something which first turned me to stone, and then ​sent the blood racing through my veins like mad. This is what I saw painted in gold above the office door:—
| OLIVER TIS | Attorney at Law |
I dashed across the street, flew up the steps, and fell like a whirlwind upon Oliver Otis, attorney at law, seated at his desk.
"Give me the iron box," I gasped.
Oliver went white, then red. Without a word he rose, twisted the knob to the great safe, took out the iron box, and placed it in my hands. It was so heavy that I let it slide to the floor, then I sat down upon it, and seizing Oliver Otis's hand, kissed it, to his utter confusion, and the amusement of the office boy.
Oliver lifted me to my feet, and putting me into a chair, explained how Aunt Ellen had insisted upon leaving the box in his care; and how, though objecting, he finally gave in. Also, how sorry he became when he got to know us and realized the injustice being done to us; for then he was bound by the conditions of the will, and was obliged to let events shape our futures.
Which they did to my entiresatisfaction.
The second will? Everything was to go towards founding an institution for the Discipline of Refractory Children. The document was even more awe inspiring than the first one, with where ases and wherefores to throw to the birds; a sad waste of red tape, in my opinion.
Yes, Caroline is going abroad with mother, Ellen Ann is going to college, and I am going to be married.
And we all hope to live long and happily.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1930, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 93 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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