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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Women, by Louisa M. Alcott
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
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-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Little Women or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy
-
-Author: Louisa M. Alcott
-
-Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill
-
-Release Date: August 16, 2011 [eBook #37106]
-[Most recently updated: May 22, 2023]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: David Edwards, Ernest Schaal, Robert Homa, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37106 ***
 
 
 
@@ -22490,353 +22467,4 @@ Girls. These works were subsequently published separately in small
 volumes, generally less than 100 pages, in The Children's Friend Series. 
 
 
-
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-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***
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+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37106 ***
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+++ b/37106-h/37106-h.htm
@@ -1,12 +1,10 @@
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-"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
-<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
 <head>
-<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
-<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
-<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Women, by Louisa M. Alcott</title>
-<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.png" />
-<style type="text/css">
+<meta charset="utf-8">
+<title>Little Women | Project Gutenberg</title>
+<link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
+<style>
 
 body {
  margin-left: 10%;
@@ -328,42 +326,24 @@ div#alcottLittleWomen li {font-size:1.1em;}
     </style>
   </head>
 <body>
-
-<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Women, by Louisa M. Alcott</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Little Women or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Louisa M. Alcott</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 16, 2011 [eBook #37106]<br />
-[Most recently updated: May 22, 2023]</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Edwards, Ernest Schaal, Robert Homa, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37106 ***</div>
 
 <h1>LITTLE WOMEN.</h1>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b001.png" id="b001.png"></a>
+<a id="b001.png"></a>
 <img class="border" src="images/b001.png"
 alt="They all drew to the fire"
-title="They all drew to the fire" /><br />
+title="They all drew to the fire"><br >
 <span class="caption">
 &quot;They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair, with Beth at her feet&quot;</span>
 </div>
 
 <p class="right">(See page 9) <span class="smc">Frontispiece</span></p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <p class="h1">LITTLE WOMEN</p>
 
@@ -371,29 +351,29 @@ title="They all drew to the fire" /><br />
 
 <p class="h2a">Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy</p>
 
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="cnobmargin">BY</p>
 
 <p class="h2a">LOUISA M. ALCOTT</p>
 
-<p class="cnotmargin">AUTHOR OF "LITTLE MEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL"<br />
+<p class="cnotmargin">AUTHOR OF "LITTLE MEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL"<br >
 "SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES," ETC.</p>
 
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="book-description">
 <i>With more than 200 illustrations by Frank T. Merrill
 and a picture of the Home of the Little Women
 by Edmund H. Garrett</i></p>
 
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><br ><br ><br ></p>
 
 
-<p class="center">BOSTON<br />
+<p class="center">BOSTON<br >
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <p class="cnobmargin">
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the years 1868 and 1869, by</p>
@@ -406,18 +386,18 @@ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the years 1868 and 1869, by</p>
 <p class="cnobmargin"><i>Copyright, 1896</i>,</p>
 <p class="cnotmargin"><span class="smc">By JOHN S. P. ALCOTT.</span></p>
 
-<p><br /><br /></p>
+<p><br ><br ></p>
 
 <p class="cnobmargin">BOSTON</p>
 <p class="cnotmargin"><span class="smc">Alfred Mudge &amp; Son Inc. Printers</span></p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b002.png" id="b002.png"></a>
+<a id="b002.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b002.png"
 alt="Preface"
-title="Preface" />
+title="Preface">
 </div>
 
 <div class="poem1 italic">
@@ -448,15 +428,15 @@ Along the ways which saintly feet have trod."</p>
 </div>
 <p class="right max-width30">Adapted from <span class="smc">John Bunyan</span>.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <h2>Contents</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b003.png" id="b003.png"></a>
+<a id="b003.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b003.png"
 alt="Contents"
-title="Contents" />
+title="Contents">
 </div>
 
 
@@ -470,7 +450,7 @@ title="Contents" />
 </thead>
 <tbody>
 <tr>
-   <td><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>I.</td> 
+   <td><a id="contents"></a>I.</td> 
 	 <td><a href="#I">Playing Pilgrims</a></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
@@ -514,7 +494,7 @@ title="Contents" />
 	 <td><a href="#XI">Experiments</a></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
-   <td><a name="contents1b" id="contents1b"></a>XII.</td>
+   <td><a id="contents1b"></a>XII.</td>
 	 <td><a href="#XII">Camp Laurence</a></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
@@ -562,7 +542,7 @@ title="Contents" />
 	 <td><a href="#XXIII">Aunt March settles the Question</a></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
-   <td colspan="3"><a name="contents2" id="contents2"></a>Part Second.</td>
+   <td colspan="2"><a id="contents2"></a>Part Second.</td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
    <td>XXIV.</td>
@@ -609,7 +589,7 @@ title="Contents" />
 	 <td><a href="#XXXIV">A Friend</a></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
-   <td><a name="contents2b" id="contents2b"></a>XXXV.</td>
+   <td><a id="contents2b"></a>XXXV.</td>
 	 <td><a href="#XXXV">Heartache</a></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
@@ -665,30 +645,29 @@ title="Contents" />
 
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b004.png" id="b004.png"></a>
+<a id="b004.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b004.png"
 alt="Tail-piece to Contents"
-title="Tail-piece to Contents" />
+title="Tail-piece to Contents">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <h2>Illustrations</h2>
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b005.png" id="b005.png"></a>
+<a id="b005.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b005.png"
 alt="List of illustrations."
-title="List of illustrations." />
+title="List of illustrations.">
 </div>
 
-<table class="illustrations" summary="table of illustrations">
+<table class="illustrations">
 <caption>[The Illustrations, designed by <span class="smc">Frank T. Merrill</span>, drawn, engraved, and printed under
 the supervision of <span class="smc">George T. Andrew</span>.]</caption>
 <tbody>
 <tr>
    <td><a href="#b001.png">They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair, 
 	 with Beth at her feet</a></td>
-	 <td></td>
 </tr>
 <tr>
    <td><a href="#b002.png">Preface</a></td>
@@ -1303,24 +1282,24 @@ the supervision of <span class="smc">George T. Andrew</span>.]</caption>
 </table>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b006.png" id="b006.png"></a>
+<a id="b006.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b006.png"
 alt="Tail-piece to Illustrations"
-title="Tail-piece to Illustrations" />
+title="Tail-piece to Illustrations">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>I. Playing Pilgrims.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b007.png" id="b007.png"></a>
+<a id="b007.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b007.png"
 alt="Christmas won&#39;t be Christmas without any presents"
-title="Christmas won&#39;t be Christmas without any presents" />
+title="Christmas won&#39;t be Christmas without any presents">
 </div>
 
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="I" id="I"></a><a href="#contents">I.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="I"></a><a href="#contents">I.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">PLAYING PILGRIMS.</p>
 
@@ -1517,10 +1496,10 @@ she sat up to hold the slippers
 nearer to the blaze.</p>
 
 <div class="figright">
-<a name="b008.png" id="b008.png"></a>
+<a id="b008.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b008.png"
 alt="Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm"
-title="Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm" />
+title="Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm">
 </div>
 
 <p>"They are quite worn out;
@@ -1561,10 +1540,10 @@ the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our
 birthdays?" answered Jo.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft">
-<a name="b009.png" id="b009.png"></a>
+<a id="b009.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b009.png"
 alt="I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair"
-title="I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair" />
+title="I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I used to be <i>so</i> frightened
@@ -1606,10 +1585,10 @@ chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by
 the villain of the piece.</p>
 
 <div class="figright">
-<a name="b010.png" id="b010.png"></a>
+<a id="b010.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b010.png"
 alt="Do it this way, clasp your hands so"
-title="Do it this way, clasp your hands so" />
+title="Do it this way, clasp your hands so">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Do it this way; clasp your
@@ -1735,10 +1714,10 @@ fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home.
 </p>
 
 <div class="figright">
-<a name="b011.png" id="b011.png"></a>
+<a id="b011.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b011.png"
 alt="It was a cheerful, hopeful letter"
-title="It was a cheerful, hopeful letter" />
+title="It was a cheerful, hopeful letter">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Give them all my dear
@@ -1777,10 +1756,10 @@ the year brought round the happy coming
 home.</p>
 
 <div class="figright">
-<a name="b012.png" id="b012.png"></a>
+<a id="b012.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b012.png"
 alt="How you used to play Pilgrim&#39;s Progress"
-title="How you used to play Pilgrim&#39;s Progress" />
+title="How you used to play Pilgrim&#39;s Progress">
 </div>
 
 <p>Mrs. March broke the silence that
@@ -1867,10 +1846,10 @@ they talked about the different countries as they stitched their way
 through them.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b013.png" id="b013.png"></a>
+<a id="b013.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b013.png"
 alt="No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano"
-title="No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano" />
+title="No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano">
 </div>
 
 <p>At nine they stopped work, and sung, as usual, before they went
@@ -1893,23 +1872,23 @@ the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that
 familiar lullaby.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b014.png" id="b014.png"></a>
+<a id="b014.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b014.png"
 alt="At nine they stopped work and sung as usual"
-title="At nine they stopped work and sung as usual" />
+title="At nine they stopped work and sung as usual">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>II. A Merry Christmas.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b015.png" id="b015.png"></a>
+<a id="b015.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b015.png"
 alt="A Merry Christmas"
-title="A Merry Christmas" />
+title="A Merry Christmas">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="II" id="II"></a><a href="#contents">II.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="II"></a><a href="#contents">II.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">A MERRY CHRISTMAS.</p>
 
@@ -2057,10 +2036,10 @@ was early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw
 them, and no one laughed at the queer party.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b016.png" id="b016.png"></a>
+<a id="b016.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b016.png"
 alt="The procession set out"
-title="The procession set out" />
+title="The procession set out">
 </div>
 
 <p>A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire,
@@ -2190,10 +2169,10 @@ with a commanding
 need thee!"</p>
 
 <div class="figleft">
-<a name="b017.png" id="b017.png"></a>
+<a id="b017.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b017.png"
 alt="Out came Meg with gray horse-hair hanging about her face"
-title="Out came Meg with gray horse-hair hanging about her face" />
+title="Out came Meg with gray horse-hair hanging about her face">
 </div>
 
 <p>Out came Meg, with
@@ -2251,10 +2230,10 @@ head. Waving a wand, it sang,—</p>
 
 
 <div class="figright">
-<a name="b018.png" id="b018.png"></a>
+<a id="b018.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b018.png"
 alt="A little figure in cloudy white"
-title="A little figure in cloudy white" />
+title="A little figure in cloudy white">
 </div>
 
 <p class="noindent">And, dropping a small, gilded bottle
@@ -2352,10 +2331,10 @@ the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing in attitudes of the
 most romantic grace.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b019.png" id="b019.png"></a>
+<a id="b019.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b019.png"
 alt="The lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro&#39;s blessing"
-title="The lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro&#39;s blessing" />
+title="The lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro&#39;s blessing">
 </div>
 
 <p>Tumultuous applause followed, but received an unexpected check;
@@ -2423,10 +2402,10 @@ know him some day; for he needs fun, I'm sure he does," said Jo
 decidedly.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b020.png" id="b020.png"></a>
+<a id="b020.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b020.png"
 alt="We talked over the fence"
-title="We talked over the fence" />
+title="We talked over the fence">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman; so I've
@@ -2451,23 +2430,23 @@ my bunch to father. I'm afraid he isn't having such a merry Christmas
 as we are."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b021.png" id="b021.png"></a>
+<a id="b021.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b021.png"
 alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+title="Tail-piece">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>III. The Laurence Boy.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b022.png" id="b022.png"></a>
+<a id="b022.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b022.png"
 alt="Eating apples and crying over the &quot;Heir of Redclyffe&quot;"
-title="Eating apples and crying over the &quot;Heir of Redclyffe&quot;" />
+title="Eating apples and crying over the &quot;Heir of Redclyffe&quot;">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="III" id="III"></a><a href="#contents">III.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="III"></a><a href="#contents">III.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">THE LAURENCE BOY.</p>
 
@@ -2560,10 +2539,10 @@ pervaded the house. Meg wanted a few curls about her face, and Jo
 undertook to pinch the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b023.png" id="b023.png"></a>
+<a id="b023.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b023.png"
 alt="Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks"
-title="Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks" />
+title="Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Ought they to smoke like that?" asked Beth, from her perch on
@@ -2646,10 +2625,10 @@ to any one: it isn't the thing."</p>
 music gay?"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b024.png" id="b024.png"></a>
+<a id="b024.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b024.png"
 alt="Mrs. Gardiner greeted them"
-title="Mrs. Gardiner greeted them" />
+title="Mrs. Gardiner greeted them">
 </div>
 
 <p>Down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they seldom went to
@@ -2676,10 +2655,10 @@ the same refuge; for, as the curtain fell behind her, she found herself
 face to face with the "Laurence boy."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b025.png" id="b025.png"></a>
+<a id="b025.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b025.png"
 alt="Face to face with the Laurence boy"
-title="Face to face with the Laurence boy" />
+title="Face to face with the Laurence boy">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Dear me, I didn't know any one was here!" stammered Jo,
@@ -2870,10 +2849,10 @@ where she found her on a sofa, holding her foot, and looking
 pale.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b026.png" id="b026.png"></a>
+<a id="b026.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b026.png"
 alt="They sat down on the stairs"
-title="They sat down on the stairs" />
+title="They sat down on the stairs">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I've sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel turned, and gave
@@ -3018,23 +2997,23 @@ and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to
 wear them." And I think Jo was quite right.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b027.png" id="b027.png"></a>
+<a id="b027.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b027.png"
 alt="Tell about the party"
-title="Tell about the party" />
+title="Tell about the party">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>IV. Burdens.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b028.png" id="b028.png"></a>
+<a id="b028.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b028.png"
 alt="The kitten stuck like a burr just out of reach"
-title="The kitten stuck like a burr just out of reach" />
+title="The kitten stuck like a burr just out of reach">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="IV" id="IV"></a><a href="#contents">IV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="IV"></a><a href="#contents">IV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">BURDENS.</p>
 
@@ -3229,10 +3208,10 @@ paradise to wind yarn, wash the poodle, or read Belsham's Essays by
 the hour together.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b029.png" id="b029.png"></a>
+<a id="b029.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b029.png"
 alt="Curling herself up in the big chair"
-title="Curling herself up in the big chair" />
+title="Curling herself up in the big chair">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo's ambition was to do something very splendid; what it was she
@@ -3364,10 +3343,10 @@ asked me what I meant by opening my mouth wide enough to take
 the whole book in at once.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b030.png" id="b030.png"></a>
+<a id="b030.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b030.png"
 alt="Reading that everlasting Belsham"
-title="Reading that everlasting Belsham" />
+title="Reading that everlasting Belsham">
 </div>
 
 <p>"'I wish I could, and be done with it,' said I, trying not to be
@@ -3435,10 +3414,10 @@ led her to the recitation platform, and made her stand there half
 an hour, holding that slate so every one could see."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b031.png" id="b031.png"></a>
+<a id="b031.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b031.png"
 alt="He took her by the ear! by the ear!"
-title="He took her by the ear! by the ear!" />
+title="He took her by the ear! by the ear!">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Didn't the girls laugh at the picture?" asked Jo, who relished the
@@ -3469,10 +3448,10 @@ Oh, she did look so funny, hugging the big, slippery fish, and hoping
 Mr. Laurence's bed in heaven would be 'aisy.'"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b032.png" id="b032.png"></a>
+<a id="b032.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b032.png"
 alt="Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish"
-title="Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish" />
+title="Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish">
 </div>
 
 <p>When they had laughed at Beth's story, they asked their mother for
@@ -3559,23 +3538,21 @@ the life of her, help getting a morsel of fun out of the little sermon,
 though she took it to heart as much as any of them.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b033.png" id="b033.png"></a>
+<a id="b033.png"></a>
 <img src="images/b033.png"
 alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+title="Tail-piece">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>V. Being Neighborly.</h2>
-<p class="h2"><a name="V" id="V"></a><a href="#contents">V.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="V"></a><a href="#contents">V.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">BEING NEIGHBORLY.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;">
-<a name="b034.png" id="b034.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b034.png" width="200" height="355"
-alt="Being Neighborly"
-title="Being Neighborly" />
+<a id="b034.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b034.png" alt="Being Neighborly" title="Being Neighborly" style="width: 200px; height: 355px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -3665,10 +3642,8 @@ called out,—</p>
 sick?"</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 311px;">
-<a name="b035.png" id="b035.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b035.png" width="311" height="700"
-alt="Laurie opened the window"
-title="Laurie opened the window" />
+<a id="b035.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b035.png" alt="Laurie opened the window" title="Laurie opened the window" style="width: 311px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Laurie opened the window,
@@ -3882,10 +3857,8 @@ popped her head in to
 see what was the matter.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b036.png" id="b036.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b036.png" width="400" height="524"
-alt="Poll tweaked off his wig"
-title="Poll tweaked off his wig" />
+<a id="b036.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b036.png" alt="Poll tweaked off his wig" title="Poll tweaked off his wig" style="width: 400px; height: 524px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Oh! that does me no end of good. Tell on, please," he said,
@@ -3997,10 +3970,8 @@ was proud to be his
 friend."</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b037.png" id="b037.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b037.png" width="400" height="577"
-alt="Putting his finger under her chin"
-title="Putting his finger under her chin" />
+<a id="b037.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b037.png" alt="Putting his finger under her chin" title="Putting his finger under her chin" style="width: 400px; height: 577px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Thank you, sir;"
@@ -4094,10 +4065,8 @@ then he tied them up, saying, with the happy look Jo liked to see,
 she sent me very much."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 467px;">
-<a name="b038.png" id="b038.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b038.png" width="467" height="400"
-alt="Please give these to your mother"
-title="Please give these to your mother" />
+<a id="b038.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b038.png" alt="Please give these to your mother" title="Please give these to your mother" style="width: 467px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>They found Mr. Laurence standing before the fire in the great
@@ -4225,16 +4194,14 @@ things, is going to be our Palace Beautiful."</p>
 liked the prospect.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 259px;">
-<a name="b039.png" id="b039.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b039.png" width="259" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b039.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b039.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 259px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>VI. Beth finds the Palace Beautiful.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="VI" id="VI"></a><a href="#contents">VI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="VI"></a><a href="#contents">VI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL.</p>
 
@@ -4328,10 +4295,8 @@ face full of gratitude, as she said, in her earnest yet timid way,—</p>
 <p>"O sir, they do care, very, very much!"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b040.png" id="b040.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b040.png" width="400" height="413"
-alt="O sir, they do care very much"
-title="O sir, they do care very much" />
+<a id="b040.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b040.png" alt="O sir, they do care very much" title="O sir, they do care very much" style="width: 400px; height: 413px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Are you the musical girl?" he asked, without any startling "Hey!"
@@ -4376,10 +4341,8 @@ had no appetite, and could only sit and smile upon every one in a
 general state of beatitude.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b041.png" id="b041.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b041.png" width="400" height="649"
-alt="Mr. Laurence often opened his study door"
-title="Mr. Laurence often opened his study door" />
+<a id="b041.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b041.png" alt="Mr. Laurence often opened his study door" title="Mr. Laurence often opened his study door" style="width: 400px; height: 649px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -4473,7 +4436,7 @@ and Beth hid her face in Jo's apron, quite upset by her present.</p>
 saw were,—</p>
 
 <blockquote>
-<p>"<span class="smc">Miss March</span>:<br />
+<p>"<span class="smc">Miss March</span>:<br >
 <span class="left-margin2em">"<i>Dear Madam</i>,—"</span></p>
 </blockquote>
 
@@ -4547,10 +4510,8 @@ little girl he loved, she put both arms round his neck, and kissed
 him.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;">
-<a name="b042.png" id="b042.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b042.png" width="420" height="400"
-alt="She put both arms around his neck and kissed him"
-title="She put both arms around his neck and kissed him" />
+<a id="b042.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b042.png" alt="She put both arms around his neck and kissed him" title="She put both arms around his neck and kissed him" style="width: 420px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>If the roof of the house had suddenly flown off, the old gentleman
@@ -4571,18 +4532,16 @@ way of expressing her satisfaction; Amy nearly fell out of the window
 in her surprise; and Meg exclaimed, with uplifted hands, "Well, I do
 believe the world is coming to an end!"</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>VII. Amy's Valley of Humiliation.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="VII" id="VII"></a><a href="#contents">VII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="VII"></a><a href="#contents">VII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">AMY'S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;">
-<a name="b043.png" id="b043.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b043.png" width="200" height="422"
-alt="The Cyclops"
-title="The Cyclops" />
+<a id="b043.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b043.png" alt="The Cyclops" title="The Cyclops" style="width: 200px; height: 422px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -4779,10 +4738,8 @@ had been struck; and the disgrace, in her eyes, was as deep as if he
 had knocked her down.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;">
-<a name="b044.png" id="b044.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b044.png" width="411" height="400"
-alt="Amy bore without flinching several tingling blows"
-title="Amy bore without flinching several tingling blows" />
+<a id="b044.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b044.png" alt="Amy bore without flinching several tingling blows" title="Amy bore without flinching several tingling blows" style="width: 411px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"You will now stand on the platform till recess," said Mr. Davis,
@@ -4884,10 +4841,8 @@ hid her face in the sofa-cushion, quite overcome by such an unexpected
 discovery.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 512px;">
-<a name="b045.png" id="b045.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b045.png" width="512" height="400"
-alt="You do know her"
-title="You do know her" />
+<a id="b045.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b045.png" alt="You do know her" title="You do know her" style="width: 512px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo let Laurie win the game, to pay for that praise of her Beth, who
@@ -4919,17 +4874,15 @@ them," said Mrs. March.</p>
 and ribbons at once, that folks may know you've got them," added
 Jo; and the lecture ended in a laugh.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>VIII. Jo Meets Apollyon.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;">
-<a name="b046.png" id="b046.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b046.png" width="516" height="400"
-alt="Girls, where are you going?"
-title="Girls, where are you going?" />
+<a id="b046.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b046.png" alt="Girls, where are you going?" title="Girls, where are you going?" style="width: 516px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a><a href="#contents">VIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="VIII"></a><a href="#contents">VIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">JO MEETS APOLLYON.</p>
 
@@ -5072,10 +5025,8 @@ again," cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.</p>
 <p>"I burnt it up."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 437px;">
-<a name="b047.png" id="b047.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b047.png" width="437" height="400"
-alt="I burnt it up"
-title="I burnt it up" />
+<a id="b047.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b047.png" alt="I burnt it up" title="I burnt it up" style="width: 437px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"What! my little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and
@@ -5237,10 +5188,8 @@ Jo dragged a rail from the fence, and together they got the child out,
 more frightened than hurt.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 503px;">
-<a name="b048.png" id="b048.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b048.png" width="503" height="400"
-alt="Held Amy up by his arms and hockey"
-title="Held Amy up by his arms and hockey" />
+<a id="b048.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b048.png" alt="Held Amy up by his arms and hockey" title="Held Amy up by his arms and hockey" style="width: 503px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Now then, we must walk her home as fast as we can; pile our
@@ -5432,17 +5381,15 @@ a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, but
 they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything
 was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>IX. Meg goes to Vanity Fair.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 434px;">
-<a name="b049.png" id="b049.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b049.png" width="434" height="400"
-alt="Packing the go abroady trunk"
-title="Packing the go abroady trunk" />
+<a id="b049.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b049.png" alt="Packing the go abroady trunk" title="Packing the go abroady trunk" style="width: 434px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="IX" id="IX"></a><a href="#contents">IX.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="IX"></a><a href="#contents">IX.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR.</p>
 
@@ -5663,10 +5610,8 @@ good excuse for offering a decent one."</p>
 and we'll have fun about it afterward."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 437px;">
-<a name="b050.png" id="b050.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b050.png" width="437" height="400"
-alt="Meg&#39;s partner appeared"
-title="Meg&#39;s partner appeared" />
+<a id="b050.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b050.png" alt="Meg&#39;s partner appeared" title="Meg&#39;s partner appeared" style="width: 437px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Here Meg's partner appeared, to find her looking much flushed
@@ -5846,10 +5791,8 @@ of them, and be sure you don't trip," returned Sallie, trying not to
 care that Meg was prettier than herself.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 442px;">
-<a name="b051.png" id="b051.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b051.png" width="442" height="400"
-alt="Asked to be introduced"
-title="Asked to be introduced" />
+<a id="b051.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b051.png" alt="Asked to be introduced" title="Asked to be introduced" style="width: 442px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Keeping that warning carefully in mind, Margaret got safely down
@@ -6018,10 +5961,8 @@ a brotherly sort of right to watch over the Marches, and fight their
 battles whenever a defender was needed.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b052.png" id="b052.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b052.png" width="400" height="434"
-alt="I wouldn&#39;t, Meg"
-title="I wouldn&#39;t, Meg" />
+<a id="b052.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b052.png" alt="I wouldn&#39;t, Meg" title="I wouldn&#39;t, Meg" style="width: 400px; height: 434px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"You'll have a splitting headache to-morrow, if you drink much of
@@ -6180,10 +6121,8 @@ of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said,
 in her serious yet cheery way,—</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b053.png" id="b053.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b053.png" width="400" height="428"
-alt="Holding a hand of each, Mrs. March said, &amp;c."
-title="Holding a hand of each, Mrs. March said, &amp;c." />
+<a id="b053.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b053.png" alt="Holding a hand of each, Mrs. March said, &amp;c." title="Holding a hand of each, Mrs. March said, &amp;c." style="width: 400px; height: 428px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good;
@@ -6224,10 +6163,10 @@ single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives."</p>
 <p>"We will, Marmee, we will!" cried both, with all their hearts, as
 she bade them good-night.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>X. The P. C. and P. O.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="X" id="X"></a><a href="#contents">X.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="X"></a><a href="#contents">X.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">THE P. C. AND P. O.</p>
 
@@ -6273,10 +6212,8 @@ local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly
 reminded each other of their faults and short-comings.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b054.png" id="b054.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b054.png" width="400" height="481"
-alt="Mr. Pickwick"
-title="Mr. Pickwick" />
+<a id="b054.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b054.png" alt="Mr. Pickwick" title="Mr. Pickwick" style="width: 400px; height: 481px">
 </div>
 
 <p>On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without
@@ -6284,21 +6221,21 @@ any glasses, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and, having stared hard
 at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged
 himself properly, began to read:—</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <p class="h2 cursive">"The Pickwick Portfolio."</p>
 
 <p class="center">MAY 20, 18—</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p class="center"><span class="cursive">Poet's Corner.</span></p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p class="center">ANNIVERSARY ODE.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <div class="poem1">
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
@@ -6309,7 +6246,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    Our fifty-second anniversary,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       In Pickwick Hall, to-night.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    We all are here in perfect health,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -6318,7 +6255,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    Again we see each well-known face,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       And press each friendly hand.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Our Pickwick, always at his post,</p>
@@ -6328,7 +6265,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    As, spectacles on nose, he reads</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       Our well-filled weekly sheet.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Although he suffers from a cold,</p>
@@ -6338,7 +6275,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    For words of wisdom from him fall,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
    In spite of croak or squeak.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,</p>
@@ -6348,7 +6285,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    And beams upon the company,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       With brown and jovial face.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Poetic fire lights up his eye,</p>
@@ -6358,7 +6295,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    Behold ambition on his brow,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       And on his nose a blot!</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Next our peaceful Tupman comes,</p>
@@ -6368,7 +6305,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    Who chokes with laughter at the puns,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       And tumbles off his seat.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Prim little Winkle too is here,</p>
@@ -6378,7 +6315,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    A model of propriety,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       Though he hates to wash his face.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    The year is gone, we still unite</p>
@@ -6388,7 +6325,7 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
    And tread the path of literature</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       That doth to glory lead.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Long may our paper prosper well,</p>
@@ -6402,13 +6339,13 @@ himself properly, began to read:—</p>
 
 <p class="sig">A. Snodgrass.</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p class="center">THE MASKED MARRIAGE.</p>
 
 <p class="center sm">A TALE OF VENICE.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p>Gondola after gondola swept up to the
 marble steps, and left its lovely load to
@@ -6504,15 +6441,15 @@ marriage."</p>
 
 <p class="right smc">S. Pickwick.</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p>Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel?
 It is full of unruly members.</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 <p class="center">THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p>Once upon a time a farmer planted a little
 seed in his garden, and after a while it
@@ -6535,7 +6472,7 @@ named March.</p>
 
 <p class="right"><span class="smc">T. Tupman.</span></p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p><span class="smc">Mr. Pickwick</span>, <i>Sir</i>:—</p>
 
@@ -6562,11 +6499,11 @@ acknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If
 our young friend studied punctuation, it
 would be well.]</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p class="center">A SAD ACCIDENT.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p>On Friday last, we were startled by a
 violent shock in our basement, followed by
@@ -6587,12 +6524,12 @@ happy to add, is now doing well.</p>
 <p class="right">
 <span class="smc">Ed.</span></p>
 
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <div class="bbox">
 <p class="center bold">THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p>It is our painful duty to record the
 sudden and mysterious disappearance of
@@ -6615,7 +6552,7 @@ to her basket, set aside her dish, and
 weep for her as one lost to us forever.</p>
 </div>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p>A sympathizing friend sends the following
 gem:—</p>
@@ -6624,7 +6561,7 @@ gem:—</p>
 
 <p class="center sm">FOR S.&nbsp;B. PAT PAW.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 
 <div class="poem1">
@@ -6636,7 +6573,7 @@ gem:—</p>
    For never more by the fire she'll sit,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       Nor play by the old green gate.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    The little grave where her infant sleeps,</p>
@@ -6646,7 +6583,7 @@ gem:—</p>
    But o'er <i>her</i> grave we may not weep,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       We know not where it may be.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Her empty bed, her idle ball,</p>
@@ -6656,7 +6593,7 @@ gem:—</p>
    No gentle tap, no loving purr</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
    Is heard at the parlor-door.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Another cat comes after her mice,</p>
@@ -6666,7 +6603,7 @@ gem:—</p>
    But she does not hunt as our darling did,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       Nor play with her airy grace.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    Her stealthy paws tread the very hall</p>
@@ -6676,7 +6613,7 @@ gem:—</p>
    But she only spits at the dogs our pet</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       So gallantly drove away.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    She is useful and mild, and does her best,</p>
@@ -6691,12 +6628,12 @@ gem:—</p>
 <p class="sig">A. S.</p>
 
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p class="center bold">ADVERTISEMENTS.</p>
 
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 
 <p><span class="smc">Miss Oranthy Bluggage</span>, the accomplished
@@ -6706,14 +6643,14 @@ and Her Position</span>," at Pickwick Hall,
 next Saturday Evening, after the usual
 performances.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p><span class="smc">A Weekly Meeting</span> will be held at
 Kitchen Place, to teach young ladies how
 to cook. Hannah Brown will preside; and
 all are invited to attend.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p><span class="smc">The Dustpan Society</span> will meet
 on Wednesday next, and parade in
@@ -6721,14 +6658,14 @@ the upper story of the Club House. All
 members to appear in uniform and shoulder
 their brooms at nine precisely.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p><span class="smc">Mrs. Beth Bouncer</span> will open her
 new assortment of Doll's Millinery next
 week. The latest Paris Fashions have
 arrived, and orders are respectfully solicited.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p><span class="smc">A New Play</span> will appear at the
 Barnville Theatre, in the course of a few
@@ -6737,7 +6674,7 @@ seen on the American stage. "<span class="smc">The
 Greek Slave</span>, or Constantine the Avenger,"
 is the name of this thrilling drama!!!</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 
 <p class="center">HINTS.</p>
 
@@ -6748,17 +6685,17 @@ the street. T. T. please don't forget Amy's
 napkin. N. W. must not fret because his
 dress has not nine tucks.</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p class="center">WEEKLY REPORT.</p>
 
 <p class="noindent">
-Meg—Good.<br />
-Jo—Bad.<br />
-Beth—Very good.<br />
+Meg—Good.<br >
+Jo—Bad.<br >
+Beth—Very good.<br >
 Amy—Middling.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <p>
 As the President finished reading the paper (which I beg leave to
@@ -6821,10 +6758,8 @@ open the door of the closet, and displayed Laurie sitting on a rag-bag,
 flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b055.png" id="b055.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b055.png" width="400" height="504"
-alt="Jo threw open the door of the closet"
-title="Jo threw open the door of the closet" />
+<a id="b055.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b055.png" alt="Jo threw open the door of the closet" title="Jo threw open the door of the closet" style="width: 400px; height: 504px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"You rogue! you traitor! Jo, how could you?" cried the three
@@ -6902,17 +6837,15 @@ sent a love-letter to Jo's care. How they laughed when the secret
 came out, never dreaming how many love-letters that little post-office
 would hold in the years to come!</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XI. Experiments.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 617px;">
-<a name="b056.png" id="b056.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b056.png" width="617" height="400"
-alt="Jo spent the morning on the river"
-title="Jo spent the morning on the river" />
+<a id="b056.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b056.png" alt="Jo spent the morning on the river" title="Jo spent the morning on the river" style="width: 617px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XI" id="XI"></a><a href="#contents">XI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XI"></a><a href="#contents">XI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">EXPERIMENTS.</p>
 
@@ -6987,10 +6920,8 @@ says. Fun forever, and no grubbing!" cried Jo, rising, glass in hand,
 as the lemonade went round.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b057.png" id="b057.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b057.png" width="400" height="519"
-alt="Amy sat down to draw"
-title="Amy sat down to draw" />
+<a id="b057.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b057.png" alt="Amy sat down to draw" title="Amy sat down to draw" style="width: 400px; height: 519px">
 </div>
 
 <p>They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging
@@ -7185,10 +7116,8 @@ left. O Pip! O Pip! how could I be so cruel to you?" cried
 Beth, taking the poor thing in her hands, and trying to restore him.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 466px;">
-<a name="b058.png" id="b058.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b058.png" width="466" height="400"
-alt="O Pip! O Pip!"
-title="O Pip! O Pip!" />
+<a id="b058.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b058.png" alt="O Pip! O Pip!" title="O Pip! O Pip!" style="width: 466px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo peeped into his half-open eye, felt his little heart, and finding him
@@ -7272,10 +7201,8 @@ eyes would mark all failures, and whose tattling tongue would report
 them far and wide.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b059.png" id="b059.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b059.png" width="400" height="537"
-alt="Miss Crocker made a wry face"
-title="Miss Crocker made a wry face" />
+<a id="b059.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b059.png" alt="Miss Crocker made a wry face" title="Miss Crocker made a wry face" style="width: 400px; height: 537px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -7451,24 +7378,20 @@ success, in spite of poverty."</p>
 <p>"We'll remember, mother!" and they did.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 310px;">
-<a name="b060.png" id="b060.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b060.png" width="310" height="200"
-alt="We&#39;ll work like bees"
-title="We&#39;ll work like bees" />
+<a id="b060.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b060.png" alt="We&#39;ll work like bees" title="We&#39;ll work like bees" style="width: 310px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XII. Camp Laurence</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XII" id="XII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">CAMP LAURENCE.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;">
-<a name="b061.png" id="b061.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b061.png" width="200" height="335"
-alt="Beth was post-mistress"
-title="Beth was post-mistress" />
+<a id="b061.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b061.png" alt="Beth was post-mistress" title="Beth was post-mistress" style="width: 200px; height: 335px">
 </div>
 
 <p><span class="smc">Beth</span>
@@ -7562,7 +7485,7 @@ dashing hand, Laurie wrote,—</p>
 
 
 <p class="letter-head1">
-     "<span class="smc">Dear Jo</span>,<br />
+     "<span class="smc">Dear Jo</span>,<br >
       What ho!
 </p>
 
@@ -7580,7 +7503,7 @@ everything else,—only do come, there's a good fellow!</p>
 
 
 <p class="letter-trail1">
-     "In a tearing hurry,<br />
+     "In a tearing hurry,<br >
       Yours ever, <span class="smc">Laurie</span>."
 </p>
 
@@ -7649,10 +7572,8 @@ that Jo woke up, and roused all her sisters by a hearty laugh at Amy's
 ornament.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 560px;">
-<a name="b062.png" id="b062.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b062.png" width="560" height="400"
-alt="Amy capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose"
-title="Amy capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose" />
+<a id="b062.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b062.png" alt="Amy capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose" title="Amy capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose" style="width: 560px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Sunshine and laughter were good omens for a pleasure party, and
@@ -7723,10 +7644,8 @@ girl several times, Miss Kate decided that she was "odd, but rather
 clever," and smiled upon her from afar.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 577px;">
-<a name="b063.png" id="b063.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b063.png" width="577" height="400"
-alt="Mr. Laurence waving his hat"
-title="Mr. Laurence waving his hat" />
+<a id="b063.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b063.png" alt="Mr. Laurence waving his hat" title="Mr. Laurence waving his hat" style="width: 577px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Meg, in the other boat, was delightfully situated, face to face
@@ -7776,10 +7695,8 @@ on the right side.</p>
 cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;">
-<a name="b064.png" id="b064.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b064.png" width="475" height="400"
-alt="Now, Miss Jo, I&#39;ll settle you"
-title="Now, Miss Jo, I&#39;ll settle you" />
+<a id="b064.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b064.png" alt="Now, Miss Jo, I&#39;ll settle you" title="Now, Miss Jo, I&#39;ll settle you" style="width: 475px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"You pushed it; I saw you; it's my turn now," said Jo sharply.</p>
@@ -7861,10 +7778,8 @@ dog barked at them from the other side of the river with all his might
 and main.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 593px;">
-<a name="b065.png" id="b065.png"></a>
-<img class="border" src="images/b065.png" width="593" height="400"
-alt="A very merry lunch it was"
-title="A very merry lunch it was" /><br />
+<a id="b065.png"></a>
+<img class="border" src="images/b065.png" alt="A very merry lunch it was" title="A very merry lunch it was" style="width: 593px; height: 400px"><br >
 <span class="caption">&quot;A very merry lunch it was.&quot;—Page 156.</span>
 
 </div>
@@ -7910,10 +7825,8 @@ obediently began the story, with the handsome brown eyes steadily
 fixed upon the sunshiny river.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;">
-<a name="b066.png" id="b066.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b066.png" width="350" height="700"
-alt="He went prancing down a quiet street"
-title="He went prancing down a quiet street" />
+<a id="b066.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b066.png" alt="He went prancing down a quiet street" title="He went prancing down a quiet street" style="width: 350px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Once on a time, a knight went out into the world to seek his fortune,
@@ -7962,17 +7875,13 @@ these thrilling words he rushed away, and flinging open the door of the
 mauve salon, was about to enter, when he received—"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b067.png" id="b067.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b067.png" width="400" height="461"
-alt="&quot;Oh, rise,&quot; she said"
-title="&quot;Oh, rise,&quot; she said" />
+<a id="b067.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b067.png" alt="&quot;Oh, rise,&quot; she said" title="&quot;Oh, rise,&quot; she said" style="width: 400px; height: 461px">
 </div>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b067a.png" id="b067a.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b067a.png" width="400" height="421"
-alt="A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon"
-title="A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon" />
+<a id="b067a.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b067a.png" alt="A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon" title="A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon" style="width: 400px; height: 421px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow
@@ -8011,10 +7920,8 @@ plucked him back, and waved
 threateningly before him a—"</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b068.png" id="b068.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b068.png" width="400" height="473"
-alt="He sneezed"
-title="He sneezed" />
+<a id="b068.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b068.png" alt="He sneezed" title="He sneezed" style="width: 400px; height: 473px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Snuff-box," said Jo, in a sepulchral
@@ -8043,10 +7950,8 @@ Of course the British beat; they always do."</p>
 <p>"No, they don't!" cried Jo, aside.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b069.png" id="b069.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b069.png" width="400" height="415"
-alt="The Portuguese walked the plank"
-title="The Portuguese walked the plank" />
+<a id="b069.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b069.png" alt="The Portuguese walked the plank" title="The Portuguese walked the plank" style="width: 400px; height: 415px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -8091,10 +7996,8 @@ were lost, and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and
 screamed—"</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 311px;">
-<a name="b070.png" id="b070.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b070.png" width="311" height="700"
-alt="Will you give me a rose?"
-title="Will you give me a rose?" />
+<a id="b070.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b070.png" alt="Will you give me a rose?" title="Will you give me a rose?" style="width: 311px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -8337,10 +8240,8 @@ teach."</p>
 tableau before her, shut her sketch-book, saying, with condescension,—</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b071.png" id="b071.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b071.png" width="400" height="466"
-alt="Miss Kate put up her glass"
-title="Miss Kate put up her glass" />
+<a id="b071.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b071.png" alt="Miss Kate put up her glass" title="Miss Kate put up her glass" style="width: 400px; height: 466px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"You've a nice accent, and, in time, will be a clever reader. I
@@ -8402,10 +8303,8 @@ laughing.</p>
 <p>"Tell me about Ellen Tree; is it a donkey?" asked Grace curiously.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 524px;">
-<a name="b072.png" id="b072.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b072.png" width="524" height="400"
-alt="Ellen Tree"
-title="Ellen Tree" />
+<a id="b072.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b072.png" alt="Ellen Tree" title="Ellen Tree" style="width: 524px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Why, you see, Jo is crazy about horses, and so am I, but we've
@@ -8532,23 +8431,19 @@ very nice when one knows them."</p>
 <p>"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Brooke.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 565px;">
-<a name="b073.png" id="b073.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b073.png" width="565" height="400"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b073.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b073.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 565px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XIII. Castles in the Air.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 501px;">
-<a name="b074.png" id="b074.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b074.png" width="501" height="400"
-alt="Swinging to and fro in his hammock"
-title="Swinging to and fro in his hammock" />
+<a id="b074.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b074.png" alt="Swinging to and fro in his hammock" title="Swinging to and fro in his hammock" style="width: 501px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XIII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">CASTLES IN THE AIR.</p>
 
@@ -8619,10 +8514,8 @@ looked up, espied the wistful face behind the birches, and beckoned
 with a reassuring smile.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 533px;">
-<a name="b075.png" id="b075.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b075.png" width="533" height="400"
-alt="It was rather a pretty little picture"
-title="It was rather a pretty little picture" />
+<a id="b075.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b075.png" alt="It was rather a pretty little picture" title="It was rather a pretty little picture" style="width: 533px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"May I come in, please? or shall I be a bother?" he asked, advancing
@@ -8779,10 +8672,8 @@ should enjoy it! for I wouldn't be idle, but do good, and make
 every one love me dearly."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b076.png" id="b076.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b076.png" width="400" height="412"
-alt="Waved a brake before her face"
-title="Waved a brake before her face" />
+<a id="b076.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b076.png" alt="Waved a brake before her face" title="Waved a brake before her face" style="width: 400px; height: 412px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Wouldn't you have a master for your castle in the air?" asked
@@ -8948,10 +8839,8 @@ briskly; if you have plagued him, he's sober and walks slowly, as if
 he wanted to go back and do his work better."</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b077.png" id="b077.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b077.png" width="400" height="572"
-alt="I see him bow and smile"
-title="I see him bow and smile" />
+<a id="b077.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b077.png" alt="I see him bow and smile" title="I see him bow and smile" style="width: 400px; height: 572px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Well, I like that! So you keep an account of my good and bad
@@ -9016,23 +8905,19 @@ go, and stay with the dear old gentleman while he needs me, for I am
 all he has."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 435px;">
-<a name="b078.png" id="b078.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b078.png" width="435" height="400"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b078.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b078.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 435px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XIV. Secrets.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 461px;">
-<a name="b079.png" id="b079.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b079.png" width="461" height="400"
-alt="Jo was very busy"
-title="Jo was very busy" />
+<a id="b079.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b079.png" alt="Jo was very busy" title="Jo was very busy" style="width: 461px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a><a href="#contents1b">XIV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XIV"></a><a href="#contents1b">XIV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">SECRETS.</p>
 
@@ -9249,10 +9134,8 @@ know how you do it, but you are a born wheedler."</p>
 give his answer next week," whispered Jo, in her confidant's ear.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 320px;">
-<a name="b080.png" id="b080.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b080.png" width="320" height="700"
-alt="Hurrah for Miss March"
-title="Hurrah for Miss March" />
+<a id="b080.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b080.png" alt="Hurrah for Miss March" title="Hurrah for Miss March" style="width: 320px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Hurrah for Miss March, the celebrated American authoress!"
@@ -9358,10 +9241,8 @@ me, and you'll be all right,"
 suggested Laurie.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b081.png" id="b081.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b081.png" width="400" height="551"
-alt="Jo darted away"
-title="Jo darted away" />
+<a id="b081.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b081.png" alt="Jo darted away" title="Jo darted away" style="width: 400px; height: 551px">
 </div>
 
 <p>No one was in sight; the
@@ -9464,10 +9345,8 @@ feel unusually elegant and ladylike.</p>
 to read.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b082.png" id="b082.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b082.png" width="700" height="384"
-alt="Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read"
-title="Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read" />
+<a id="b082.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b082.png" alt="Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read" title="Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read" style="width: 700px; height: 384px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Have you anything interesting there?" asked Meg, with condescension.</p>
@@ -9549,18 +9428,16 @@ and earn the praise of those she loved were the dearest
 wishes of her heart, and this seemed to be the first step toward that
 happy end.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XV. A Telegram.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XV" id="XV"></a><a href="#contents1b">XV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XV"></a><a href="#contents1b">XV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">A TELEGRAM.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 280px;">
-<a name="b083.png" id="b083.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b083.png" width="280" height="700"
-alt="November is the most disagreeable month in the year"
-title="November is the most disagreeable month in the year" />
+<a id="b083.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b083.png" alt="November is the most disagreeable month in the year" title="November is the most disagreeable month in the year" style="width: 280px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -9651,10 +9528,8 @@ with a letter.</p>
 it as if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 391px;">
-<a name="b084.png" id="b084.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b084.png" width="391" height="700"
-alt="One of them horrid telegraph things"
-title="One of them horrid telegraph things" />
+<a id="b084.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b084.png" alt="One of them horrid telegraph things" title="One of them horrid telegraph things" style="width: 391px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>At the word "telegraph," Mrs.
@@ -9765,10 +9640,8 @@ one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she came suddenly upon
 Mr. Brooke.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 454px;">
-<a name="b085.png" id="b085.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b085.png" width="454" height="400"
-alt="She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke"
-title="She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke" />
+<a id="b085.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b085.png" alt="She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke" title="She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke" style="width: 454px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I'm very sorry to hear of this, Miss March," he said, in the kind,
@@ -9898,10 +9771,8 @@ things make strangers feel, don't they? She talked away all the time
 the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 431px;">
-<a name="b086.png" id="b086.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b086.png" width="431" height="400"
-alt="The man clipped"
-title="The man clipped" />
+<a id="b086.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b086.png" alt="The man clipped" title="The man clipped" style="width: 431px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Didn't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?" asked Meg,
@@ -9988,23 +9859,19 @@ face, which seemed to whisper in the silence, "Be comforted, dear
 soul! There is always light behind the clouds."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b087.png" id="b087.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b087.png" width="700" height="367"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b087.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b087.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 700px; height: 367px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XVI. Letters.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b088.png" id="b088.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b088.png" width="700" height="366"
-alt="Letters"
-title="Letters" />
+<a id="b088.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b088.png" alt="Letters" title="Letters" style="width: 700px; height: 366px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a><a href="#contents1b">XVI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XVI"></a><a href="#contents1b">XVI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">LETTERS.</p>
 
@@ -10076,10 +9943,8 @@ them, like a body-guard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful Hannah, and devoted
 Laurie.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
-<a name="b089.png" id="b089.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b089.png" width="509" height="400"
-alt="She rolled away"
-title="She rolled away" />
+<a id="b089.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b089.png" alt="She rolled away" title="She rolled away" style="width: 509px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"How kind every one is to us!" she said, turning to find fresh
@@ -10238,7 +10103,7 @@ times for your</p>
 <p class="right smc">"Topsy-Turvy Jo."</p>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p class="center">"A SONG FROM THE SUDS.</p>
 
@@ -10255,7 +10120,7 @@ times for your</p>
     Then out in the free fresh air they swing,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        Under the sunny sky.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    "I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -10268,7 +10133,7 @@ times for your</p>
     Then on the earth there would be indeed</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        A glorious washing-day!</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "Along the path of a useful life,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -10281,7 +10146,7 @@ times for your</p>
      And anxious thoughts may be swept away,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        As we bravely wield a broom.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "I am glad a task to me is given,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -10297,10 +10162,8 @@ times for your</p>
 </div>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 356px;">
-<a name="b090.png" id="b090.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b090.png" width="356" height="700"
-alt="I wind the clock"
-title="I wind the clock" />
+<a id="b090.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b090.png" alt="I wind the clock" title="I wind the clock" style="width: 356px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -10321,7 +10184,7 @@ to your loving</p>
 <p class="right smc">"Little Beth."</p>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <blockquote>
 <p class="noindent smc">"Ma Chere Mamma,—</p>
@@ -10363,10 +10226,8 @@ heaps of love to Papa.</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b091.png" id="b091.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b091.png" width="400" height="427"
-alt="Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet"
-title="Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet" />
+<a id="b091.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b091.png" alt="Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet" title="Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet" style="width: 400px; height: 427px">
 </div>
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -10408,7 +10269,7 @@ March, and hope he's seen the last of his Pewmonia.</p>
 <p class="right smc">"Hannah Mullet."</p>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <blockquote>
 <p class="noindent smc">
@@ -10427,7 +10288,7 @@ which he is heartily joined by</p>
 <p class="right">"<span class="smc">Colonel Teddy.</span>"</p>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <blockquote>
 <p class="noindent">"<span class="smc">Dear Madam</span>,—</p>
@@ -10444,16 +10305,14 @@ want anything. Thank God he is mending.</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 570px;">
-<a name="b092.png" id="b092.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b092.png" width="570" height="400"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b092.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b092.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 570px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XVII. Little Faithful.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XVII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XVII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XVII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">LITTLE FAITHFUL.</p>
 
@@ -10572,10 +10431,8 @@ feet, and Lotty gave it some milk, but it didn't stir, and I knew it
 was dead."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b093.png" id="b093.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b093.png" width="400" height="403"
-alt="It didn&#39;t stir, and I knew it was dead"
-title="It didn&#39;t stir, and I knew it was dead" />
+<a id="b093.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b093.png" alt="It didn&#39;t stir, and I knew it was dead" title="It didn&#39;t stir, and I knew it was dead" style="width: 400px; height: 403px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Don't cry, dear! What did you do?"</p>
@@ -10661,10 +10518,8 @@ and we'll have capital times. Won't that be better than moping
 here?"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 501px;">
-<a name="b094.png" id="b094.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b094.png" width="501" height="400"
-alt="He sat down beside her"
-title="He sat down beside her" />
+<a id="b094.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b094.png" alt="He sat down beside her" title="He sat down beside her" style="width: 501px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I don't wish to be sent off as if I was in the way," began Amy,
@@ -10779,10 +10634,8 @@ spectacles, while the parrot, sitting on the back of her chair, called
 out,—</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b095.png" id="b095.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b095.png" width="400" height="414"
-alt="What do you want now?"
-title="What do you want now?" />
+<a id="b095.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b095.png" alt="What do you want now?" title="What do you want now?" style="width: 400px; height: 414px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Go away. No boys allowed here."</p>
@@ -10824,18 +10677,16 @@ left alone with Aunt March.</p>
 <p>"Get along, you fright!" screamed Polly; and at that rude speech
 Amy could not restrain a sniff.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XVIII. Dark Days.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XVIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XVIII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XVIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">DARK DAYS.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 383px;">
-<a name="b096.png" id="b096.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b096.png" width="383" height="700"
-alt="Beth did have the fever"
-title="Beth did have the fever" />
+<a id="b096.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b096.png" alt="Beth did have the fever" title="Beth did have the fever" style="width: 383px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p><span class="smc">Beth</span> did have the fever, and
@@ -10971,10 +10822,8 @@ his throat,—</p>
 to me, Jo, dear!"</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 361px;">
-<a name="b097.png" id="b097.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b097.png" width="361" height="700"
-alt="Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do"
-title="Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do" />
+<a id="b097.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b097.png" alt="Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do" title="Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do" style="width: 361px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>She could not speak,
@@ -11217,17 +11066,15 @@ stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight.</p>
 Hannah, and then Laurie's voice saying, in a joyful whisper, "Girls,
 she's come! she's come!"</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XIX. Amy's Will.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 547px;">
-<a name="b098.png" id="b098.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b098.png" width="547" height="400"
-alt="Amy&#39;s Will"
-title="Amy&#39;s Will" />
+<a id="b098.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b098.png" alt="Amy&#39;s Will" title="Amy&#39;s Will" style="width: 547px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a><a href="#contents1b">XIX.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XIX"></a><a href="#contents1b">XIX.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">AMY'S WILL.</p>
 
@@ -11253,10 +11100,8 @@ which carried dismay to Amy's soul, and made her feel like a
 fly in the web of a very strict spider.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 470px;">
-<a name="b099.png" id="b099.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b099.png" width="470" height="400"
-alt="Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot"
-title="Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot" />
+<a id="b099.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b099.png" alt="Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot" title="Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot" style="width: 470px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>She had to wash the cups every morning, and polish up the old-fashioned
@@ -11304,10 +11149,8 @@ the old coachman deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took any
 notice of the young lady.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b100.png" id="b100.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b100.png" width="700" height="322"
-alt="On his back, with all his legs in the air"
-title="On his back, with all his legs in the air" />
+<a id="b100.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b100.png" alt="On his back, with all his legs in the air" title="On his back, with all his legs in the air" style="width: 700px; height: 322px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Esther was a Frenchwoman, who had lived with "Madame," as
@@ -11337,10 +11180,8 @@ now for her fat finger, but put carefully away, like the most precious
 jewel of them all.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 492px;">
-<a name="b101.png" id="b101.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b101.png" width="492" height="400"
-alt="I should choose this"
-title="I should choose this" />
+<a id="b101.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b101.png" alt="I should choose this" title="I should choose this" style="width: 492px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?" asked
@@ -11464,10 +11305,8 @@ and occasionally stopping to laugh or exclaim, "Ain't we fine? Get
 along, you fright! Hold your tongue! Kiss me, dear! Ha! ha!"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b102.png" id="b102.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b102.png" width="400" height="478"
-alt="Gravely promenaded to and fro"
-title="Gravely promenaded to and fro" />
+<a id="b102.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b102.png" alt="Gravely promenaded to and fro" title="Gravely promenaded to and fro" style="width: 400px; height: 478px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment, lest it
@@ -11519,10 +11358,8 @@ me if it is legal and right. I felt that I ought to do it, for life is uncertain
 and I don't want any ill-feeling over my tomb."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b103.png" id="b103.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b103.png" width="400" height="495"
-alt="Amy&#39;s Will"
-title="Amy&#39;s Will" />
+<a id="b103.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b103.png" alt="Amy&#39;s Will" title="Amy&#39;s Will" style="width: 400px; height: 495px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker,
@@ -11585,11 +11422,11 @@ day of Nov. Anni Domino 1861.</p>
 
 
 
-<table class="witness" summary="witnesses to the will and testament">
+<table class="witness">
 <tr>
   <td>"Witnesses:</td>
   <td>{</td>
-	<td>Estelle Valnor,<br />
+	<td>Estelle Valnor,<br >
       Theodore Laurence."
   </td>
 </tr>
@@ -11643,23 +11480,19 @@ feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the
 loss of her gentle little sister.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 205px;">
-<a name="b104.png" id="b104.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b104.png" width="205" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b104.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b104.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 205px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XX. Confidential.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 469px;">
-<a name="b105.png" id="b105.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b105.png" width="469" height="400"
-alt="Mrs. March would not leave Beth&#39;s side"
-title="Mrs. March would not leave Beth&#39;s side" />
+<a id="b105.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b105.png" alt="Mrs. March would not leave Beth&#39;s side" title="Mrs. March would not leave Beth&#39;s side" style="width: 469px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XX" id="XX"></a><a href="#contents1b">XX.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XX"></a><a href="#contents1b">XX.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">CONFIDENTIAL.</p>
 
@@ -11952,23 +11785,19 @@ went away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret,
 "She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 239px;">
-<a name="b106.png" id="b106.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b106.png" width="239" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b106.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b106.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 239px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXI. Laurie makes Mischief, and Jo makes Peace.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 484px;">
-<a name="b107.png" id="b107.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b107.png" width="484" height="400"
-alt="Letters"
-title="Letters" />
+<a id="b107.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b107.png" alt="Letters" title="Letters" style="width: 484px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a><a href="#contents1b">XXI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXI"></a><a href="#contents1b">XXI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE.</p>
 
@@ -12045,10 +11874,8 @@ so rude, so mean, and cruel to us both?"</p>
 which was written in a peculiar hand.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b108.png" id="b108.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b108.png" width="400" height="463"
-alt="Jo and her mother were reading the note"
-title="Jo and her mother were reading the note" />
+<a id="b108.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b108.png" alt="Jo and her mother were reading the note" title="Jo and her mother were reading the note" style="width: 400px; height: 463px">
 </div>
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -12235,10 +12062,8 @@ to make it up, and can't go away till I have."</p>
 reply to her petition.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b109.png" id="b109.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b109.png" width="400" height="472"
-alt="Get up and don&#39;t be a goose"
-title="Get up and don&#39;t be a goose" />
+<a id="b109.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b109.png" alt="Get up and don&#39;t be a goose" title="Get up and don&#39;t be a goose" style="width: 400px; height: 472px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Thank you; I will. Could I ask what's the matter? You don't
@@ -12346,10 +12171,8 @@ came here to moralize, not to hear about things that make me skip
 to think of."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;">
-<a name="b110.png" id="b110.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b110.png" width="417" height="400"
-alt="&quot;Hold your tongue!&quot; cried Jo, covering her ears"
-title="&quot;Hold your tongue!&quot; cried Jo, covering her ears" />
+<a id="b110.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b110.png" alt="&quot;Hold your tongue!&quot; cried Jo, covering her ears" title="&quot;Hold your tongue!&quot; cried Jo, covering her ears" style="width: 417px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I know Meg would wet-blanket such a proposal, but I thought
@@ -12416,10 +12239,8 @@ on the steps, and he stood at the foot, a lion in the path, so she had
 to stay and brave it out.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b111.png" id="b111.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b111.png" width="400" height="538"
-alt="He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path"
-title="He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path" />
+<a id="b111.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b111.png" alt="He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path" title="He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path" style="width: 400px; height: 538px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Indeed, sir, I cannot tell; mother forbade it. Laurie has confessed,
@@ -12555,18 +12376,16 @@ over with the words, "Mrs. John Brooke;" whereat she groaned
 tragically, and cast it into the fire, feeling that Laurie's prank had
 hastened the evil day for her.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <h2>XXII. Pleasant Meadows.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 643px;">
-<a name="b112.png" id="b112.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b112.png" width="643" height="400"
-alt="Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day"
-title="Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day" />
+<a id="b112.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b112.png" alt="Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day" title="Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day" style="width: 643px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XXII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XXII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">PLEASANT MEADOWS.</p>
 
@@ -12609,10 +12428,8 @@ round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her
 lips, on a pink paper streamer:—</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;">
-<a name="b113.png" id="b113.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b113.png" width="460" height="400"
-alt="The Jungfrau"
-title="The Jungfrau" />
+<a id="b113.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b113.png" alt="The Jungfrau" title="The Jungfrau" style="width: 460px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p class="center">"THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH.</p>
@@ -12626,7 +12443,7 @@ title="The Jungfrau" />
     But health and peace and happiness</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
        Be yours, this Christmas Day.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent15">
    "Here's fruit to feed our busy bee,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
@@ -12635,7 +12452,7 @@ title="The Jungfrau" />
     Here's music for her pianee,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
        An Afghan for her toes.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent15">
    "A portrait of Joanna, see,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
@@ -12644,7 +12461,7 @@ title="The Jungfrau" />
     Who labored with great industry</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        To make it fair and true.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent15">
    "Accept a ribbon red, I beg,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
@@ -12653,7 +12470,7 @@ title="The Jungfrau" />
     And ice-cream made by lovely Peg,—</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
        A Mont Blanc in a pail.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent15"> 
     "Their dearest love my makers laid</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
@@ -12883,7 +12700,7 @@ fitting song for her:—</p>
     He that is humble ever shall</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
        Have God to be his guide.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent15">
     "I am content with what I have,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
@@ -12892,7 +12709,7 @@ fitting song for her:—</p>
      And, Lord! contentment still I crave,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
         Because Thou savest such.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p class="indent30 left-indent15">
     "Fulness to them a burden is,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent15">
@@ -12903,29 +12720,25 @@ fitting song for her:—</p>
         Is best from age to age!"</p>
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b114.png" id="b114.png"></a>
-<img class="border" src="images/b114.png" width="568" height="400"
-alt="He sat in the big chair"
-title="He sat in the big chair" /><br />
+<a id="b114.png"></a>
+<img class="border" src="images/b114.png" alt="He sat in the big chair" title="He sat in the big chair" style="width: 568px; height: 400px"><br >
 <span class="caption">
 &quot;He sat in the big chair by Beth&#39;s sofa with the other three close by.&quot;—Page 277.</span>
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXIII. Aunt March settles the Question.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XXIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXIII"></a><a href="#contents1b">XXIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 290px;">
-<a name="b115.png" id="b115.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b115.png" width="290" height="700"
-alt="Popping in her head now and then"
-title="Popping in her head now and then" />
+<a id="b115.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b115.png" alt="Popping in her head now and then" title="Popping in her head now and then" style="width: 290px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p><span class="smc">Like</span> bees swarming after their
@@ -13068,10 +12881,8 @@ and said gratefully,—</p>
 only wish I could thank you for it."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b116.png" id="b116.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b116.png" width="400" height="411"
-alt="Shall I tell you how?"
-title="Shall I tell you how?" />
+<a id="b116.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b116.png" alt="Shall I tell you how?" title="Shall I tell you how?" style="width: 400px; height: 411px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Shall I tell you how?" asked Mr. Brooke, holding the small hand
@@ -13168,10 +12979,8 @@ surprise two of them so much that Meg started as if she had seen a
 ghost, and Mr. Brooke vanished into the study.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b117.png" id="b117.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b117.png" width="400" height="585"
-alt="Bless me, what&#39;s all this?"
-title="Bless me, what&#39;s all this?" />
+<a id="b117.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b117.png" alt="Bless me, what&#39;s all this?" title="Bless me, what&#39;s all this?" style="width: 400px; height: 585px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -13399,10 +13208,8 @@ relief, as the front door banged, "Here comes Laurie. Now we shall
 have a little sensible conversation."</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b118.png" id="b118.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b118.png" width="400" height="586"
-alt="For Mrs. John Brooke"
-title="For Mrs. John Brooke" />
+<a id="b118.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b118.png" alt="For Mrs. John Brooke" title="For Mrs. John Brooke" style="width: 400px; height: 586px">
 </div>
 
 <p>But Jo was mistaken; for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with
@@ -13489,38 +13296,36 @@ Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her
 curly head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the
 long glass which reflected them both.</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p>So grouped, the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether
 it ever rises again, depends upon the reception given to the first act of
 the domestic drama called "<span class="smc">Little Women</span>."</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b118a.png" id="b118a.png"></a>
+<a id="b118a.png"></a>
 <img class="border" src="images/b118a.png"
 alt="Home of the Little Women"
-title="Home of the Little Women" /><br />
+title="Home of the Little Women"><br >
 <span class="caption">Home of the Little Women</span>
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXIV. Gossip.</h2>
 
 <p class="cursivecenter">The Second Part</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b119.png" id="b119.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b119.png" width="591" height="400"
-alt="The Dove Cote"
-title="The Dove Cote" /><br />
+<a id="b119.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b119.png" alt="The Dove Cote" title="The Dove Cote" style="width: 591px; height: 400px"><br >
 <span class="caption">The Dove-Cote</span>
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a><a href="#contents2">XXIV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXIV"></a><a href="#contents2">XXIV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">GOSSIP.</p>
 
@@ -13861,10 +13666,8 @@ observed Laurie, as a watchman's rattle appeared, amid the laughter
 of the girls.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 528px;">
-<a name="b120.png" id="b120.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b120.png" width="528" height="400"
-alt="A small watchman&#39;s rattle"
-title="A small watchman&#39;s rattle" />
+<a id="b120.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b120.png" alt="A small watchman&#39;s rattle" title="A small watchman&#39;s rattle" style="width: 528px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Any time when John is away, and you get frightened, Mrs. Meg,
@@ -14022,23 +13825,19 @@ them in a long low whistle, and the fearful prediction, as they parted
 at the gate, "Mark my words, Jo, you'll go next."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 324px;">
-<a name="b121.png" id="b121.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b121.png" width="324" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b121.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b121.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 324px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXV. The First Wedding.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 522px;">
-<a name="b122.png" id="b122.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b122.png" width="522" height="400"
-alt="The First Wedding"
-title="The First Wedding" />
+<a id="b122.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b122.png" alt="The First Wedding" title="The First Wedding" style="width: 522px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a><a href="#contents2">XXV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXV"></a><a href="#contents2">XXV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">THE FIRST WEDDING.</p>
 
@@ -14305,17 +14104,15 @@ tender pride, as she walked away, leaning on her husband's arm, with
 her hands full of flowers, and the June sunshine brightening her happy
 face,—and so Meg's married life began.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXVI. Artistic Attempts.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 530px;">
-<a name="b123.png" id="b123.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b123.png" width="530" height="400"
-alt="Artistic Attempts"
-title="Artistic Attempts" />
+<a id="b123.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b123.png" alt="Artistic Attempts" title="Artistic Attempts" style="width: 530px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a><a href="#contents2">XXVI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXVI"></a><a href="#contents2">XXVI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS.</p>
 
@@ -14357,10 +14154,8 @@ a tomato-colored splash in the middle, which might be the sun or a
 buoy, a sailor's shirt or a king's robe, as the spectator pleased.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b124.png" id="b124.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b124.png" width="400" height="651"
-alt="Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster"
-title="Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster" />
+<a id="b124.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b124.png" alt="Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster" title="Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster" style="width: 400px; height: 651px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Charcoal portraits came next; and the entire family hung in a row,
@@ -14676,10 +14471,8 @@ preparing to hand out the basket after the old lady.</p>
 nearly as red as her fish.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px;">
-<a name="b125.png" id="b125.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b125.png" width="525" height="400"
-alt="Please don&#39;t, it&#39;s mine"
-title="Please don&#39;t, it&#39;s mine" />
+<a id="b125.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b125.png" alt="Please don&#39;t, it&#39;s mine" title="Please don&#39;t, it&#39;s mine" style="width: 525px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Oh, really, I beg pardon; it's an uncommonly fine one, isn't
@@ -14787,23 +14580,19 @@ a general smile, and Laurie's birthday gift to Amy was a tiny
 coral lobster in the shape of a charm for her watch-guard.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;">
-<a name="b126.png" id="b126.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b126.png" width="407" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b126.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b126.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 407px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXVII. Literary Lessons.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 456px;">
-<a name="b127.png" id="b127.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b127.png" width="456" height="400"
-alt="Literary Lessons"
-title="Literary Lessons" />
+<a id="b127.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b127.png" alt="Literary Lessons" title="Literary Lessons" style="width: 456px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXVII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXVII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXVII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">LITERARY LESSONS.</p>
 
@@ -14929,10 +14718,8 @@ hardly dared expect, she would be very glad to receive any sum it
 might be considered worth.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b128.png" id="b128.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b128.png" width="400" height="480"
-alt="A check for one hundred dollars"
-title="A check for one hundred dollars" />
+<a id="b128.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b128.png" alt="A check for one hundred dollars" title="A check for one hundred dollars" style="width: 400px; height: 480px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to
@@ -15126,23 +14913,19 @@ myself with that; and when I'm ready, I'll up again and take
 another."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 286px;">
-<a name="b129.png" id="b129.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b129.png" width="286" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b129.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b129.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 286px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXVIII. Domestic Experiences.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b130.png" id="b130.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b130.png" width="700" height="381"
-alt="Domestic Experiences"
-title="Domestic Experiences" />
+<a id="b130.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b130.png" alt="Domestic Experiences" title="Domestic Experiences" style="width: 700px; height: 381px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXVIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXVIII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXVIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES.</p>
 
@@ -15419,10 +15202,8 @@ of life. Neither spoke; both looked quite "calm and firm,"
 and both felt desperately uncomfortable.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 511px;">
-<a name="b131.png" id="b131.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b131.png" width="511" height="400"
-alt="Both felt desperately uncomfortable"
-title="Both felt desperately uncomfortable" />
+<a id="b131.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b131.png" alt="Both felt desperately uncomfortable" title="Both felt desperately uncomfortable" style="width: 511px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Oh dear," thought Meg, "married life is very trying, and does
@@ -15531,10 +15312,8 @@ feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after
 her.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 560px;">
-<a name="b132.png" id="b132.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b132.png" width="560" height="400"
-alt="A bargain, I assure you, ma&#39;am"
-title="A bargain, I assure you, ma&#39;am" />
+<a id="b132.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b132.png" alt="A bargain, I assure you, ma&#39;am" title="A bargain, I assure you, ma&#39;am" style="width: 560px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by
@@ -15701,10 +15480,8 @@ Hannah, and John caused him to open them the next minute, to find
 himself invested with two babies instead of one.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 470px;">
-<a name="b133.png" id="b133.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b133.png" width="470" height="400"
-alt="Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms"
-title="Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms" />
+<a id="b133.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b133.png" alt="Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms" title="Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms" style="width: 470px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>No wonder they laughed, for the expression of his face was droll
@@ -15770,18 +15547,16 @@ cried Jo, clapping her hands.</p>
 <p>Teddy certainly had done it that time, for the babies were
 "Daisy" and "Demi" to the end of the chapter.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXIX. Calls.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a><a href="#contents2">XXIX.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXIX"></a><a href="#contents2">XXIX.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">CALLS.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b134.png" id="b134.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b134.png" width="400" height="672"
-alt="Calls"
-title="Calls" />
+<a id="b134.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b134.png" alt="Calls" title="Calls" style="width: 400px; height: 672px">
 </div>
 
 <p><span class="smc">"Come,</span> Jo, it's time."</p>
@@ -16007,10 +15782,8 @@ rowed it over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the
 barn to the utter amazement of the old man!"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 523px;">
-<a name="b135.png" id="b135.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b135.png" width="523" height="400"
-alt="She took the saddle to the horse"
-title="She took the saddle to the horse" />
+<a id="b135.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b135.png" alt="She took the saddle to the horse" title="She took the saddle to the horse" style="width: 523px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Did she ride the horse?"</p>
@@ -16133,10 +15906,8 @@ for Jo, fervently hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found
 in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 644px;">
-<a name="b136.png" id="b136.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b136.png" width="644" height="400"
-alt="It might have been worse"
-title="It might have been worse" />
+<a id="b136.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b136.png" alt="It might have been worse" title="It might have been worse" style="width: 644px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad; for Jo sat
@@ -16290,10 +16061,8 @@ and that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at
 Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 595px;">
-<a name="b137.png" id="b137.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b137.png" width="595" height="400"
-alt="The call at Aunt March&#39;s"
-title="The call at Aunt March&#39;s" />
+<a id="b137.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b137.png" alt="The call at Aunt March&#39;s" title="The call at Aunt March&#39;s" style="width: 595px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the
@@ -16373,23 +16142,19 @@ Carrol to reply decidedly, "I certainly will, if her father and mother
 consent."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 309px;">
-<a name="b138.png" id="b138.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b138.png" width="309" height="200"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b138.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b138.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 309px; height: 200px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXX. Consequences.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 504px;">
-<a name="b139.png" id="b139.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b139.png" width="504" height="400"
-alt="You shall have another table"
-title="You shall have another table" />
+<a id="b139.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b139.png" alt="You shall have another table" title="You shall have another table" style="width: 504px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a><a href="#contents2">XXX.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXX"></a><a href="#contents2">XXX.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">CONSEQUENCES.</p>
 
@@ -16673,10 +16438,8 @@ to the conclusion, about that time, that virtue <i>was</i> its own
 reward, after all.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 530px;">
-<a name="b140.png" id="b140.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b140.png" width="530" height="400"
-alt="Bought up the bouquets"
-title="Bought up the bouquets" />
+<a id="b140.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b140.png" alt="Bought up the bouquets" title="Bought up the bouquets" style="width: 530px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo behaved herself with exemplary propriety; and when Amy was
@@ -16908,23 +16671,19 @@ the happy-hearted girl, who waved her hand to them till they could
 see nothing but the summer sunshine dazzling on the sea.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
-<a name="b141.png" id="b141.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b141.png" width="200" height="290"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b141.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b141.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 200px; height: 290px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXI. Our Foreign Correspondent.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
-<a name="b142.png" id="b142.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b142.png" width="450" height="400"
-alt="Flo and I ordered a hansom-cab"
-title="Flo and I ordered a hansom-cab" />
+<a id="b142.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b142.png" alt="Flo and I ordered a hansom-cab" title="Flo and I ordered a hansom-cab" style="width: 450px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXI"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT.</p>
 
@@ -16950,10 +16709,8 @@ they would smoke themselves to death, I'm afraid.</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b143.png" id="b143.png"></a>
-<img class="border" src="images/b143.png" width="583" height="400"
-alt="Every one was very kind"
-title="Every one was very kind" /><br />
+<a id="b143.png"></a>
+<img class="border" src="images/b143.png" alt="Every one was very kind" title="Every one was very kind" style="width: 583px; height: 400px"><br >
 <span class="caption">
 &quot;Every one was very kind, especially the officers.&quot;—Page 378.</span>
 </div>
@@ -17100,7 +16857,7 @@ it, that's impossible—so I'll only say it was sublime! This
 evening we are going to see Fechter, which will be an appropriate
 end to the happiest day of my life.</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p class="right">"<span class="smc">Midnight.</span></p>
 
@@ -17131,7 +16888,7 @@ and in spite of my nonsense am, as ever, your loving</p>
 <p class="right smc">Amy."</p>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <blockquote>
 <div class="complicatedformatting">
@@ -17195,10 +16952,8 @@ behind.</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 496px;">
-<a name="b144.png" id="b144.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b144.png" width="496" height="400"
-alt="I&#39;ve seen the imperial family several times"
-title="I&#39;ve seen the imperial family several times" />
+<a id="b144.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b144.png" alt="I&#39;ve seen the imperial family several times" title="I&#39;ve seen the imperial family several times" style="width: 496px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -17232,7 +16987,7 @@ these scribbles.</p>
 </div>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -17329,10 +17084,8 @@ one might guess from his bonnie
 blue eyes.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 350px;">
-<a name="b145.png" id="b145.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b145.png" width="350" height="583"
-alt="Trying to sketch the gray-stone lion&#39;s head on the wall"
-title="Trying to sketch the gray-stone lion&#39;s head on the wall" />
+<a id="b145.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b145.png" alt="Trying to sketch the gray-stone lion&#39;s head on the wall" title="Trying to sketch the gray-stone lion&#39;s head on the wall" style="width: 350px; height: 583px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Well, last evening we went up to
@@ -17385,10 +17138,10 @@ for a good talk, Marmee. Love and trust me.</p>
 </div>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXII. Tender Troubles.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">TENDER TROUBLES.</p>
 
@@ -17471,10 +17224,8 @@ on the dull, autumnal landscape. Suddenly some one passed below,
 whistling like an operatic blackbird, and a voice called out,—</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b146.png" id="b146.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b146.png" width="400" height="523"
-alt="She leaned her head upon her hands"
-title="She leaned her head upon her hands" />
+<a id="b146.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b146.png" alt="She leaned her head upon her hands" title="She leaned her head upon her hands" style="width: 400px; height: 523px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"All serene! Coming in to-night."</p>
@@ -17605,10 +17356,8 @@ Laurie exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction,—</p>
 <p>"Now, <i>this</i> is filling at the price."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 579px;">
-<a name="b147.png" id="b147.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b147.png" width="579" height="400"
-alt="Now, this is filling at the price"
-title="Now, this is filling at the price" />
+<a id="b147.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b147.png" alt="Now, this is filling at the price" title="Now, this is filling at the price" style="width: 579px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"No slang," snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was
@@ -17736,10 +17485,8 @@ of bonnie Dundee," she slipped away, to return no more till the
 young gentleman had departed in high dudgeon.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b148.png" id="b148.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b148.png" width="400" height="545"
-alt="Up with the Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee"
-title="Up with the Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee" />
+<a id="b148.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b148.png" alt="Up with the Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee" title="Up with the Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee" style="width: 400px; height: 545px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo lay long awake that night, and was just dropping off when the
@@ -17953,17 +17700,15 @@ looked at her so queerly.</p>
 won't do a bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you; so mind what you do,
 or I'll come and bring you home."</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXIII. Jo's Journal.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 486px;">
-<a name="b149.png" id="b149.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b149.png" width="486" height="400"
-alt="I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat"
-title="I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat" />
+<a id="b149.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b149.png" alt="I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat" title="I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat" style="width: 486px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXIII"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">JO'S JOURNAL.</p>
 
@@ -18040,7 +17785,7 @@ the big work-basket, and had a quiet evening chatting with my new
 friend. I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week; so
 good-night, and more to-morrow."</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p class="right">"<i>Tuesday Eve.</i></p>
 
@@ -18085,10 +17830,8 @@ and running to meet him.</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b150.png" id="b150.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b150.png" width="400" height="665"
-alt="Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer"
-title="Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer" />
+<a id="b150.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b150.png" alt="Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer" title="Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer" style="width: 400px; height: 665px">
 </div>
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -18187,7 +17930,7 @@ than some people have, judging from the remarks of the elegant
 beings who clattered away, smoking like bad chimneys. I hate ordinary
 people!"</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p class="right">"<i>Thursday.</i></p>
 
@@ -18231,10 +17974,8 @@ that delighted the little
 wretches.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b151.png" id="b151.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b151.png" width="400" height="490"
-alt="He waved his hand, sock and all"
-title="He waved his hand, sock and all" />
+<a id="b151.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b151.png" alt="He waved his hand, sock and all" title="He waved his hand, sock and all" style="width: 400px; height: 490px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I promised I
@@ -18265,7 +18006,7 @@ also, to think of the poor man having to mend his own clothes. The
 German gentlemen embroider, I know; but darning hose is another
 thing, and not so pretty."</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p class="right">"<i>Saturday.</i></p>
 
@@ -18290,10 +18031,8 @@ roared and ramped in cages built of chairs.</p>
 hair.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b152.png" id="b152.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b152.png" width="700" height="388"
-alt="Dis is mine effalunt"
-title="Dis is mine effalunt" />
+<a id="b152.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b152.png" alt="Dis is mine effalunt" title="Dis is mine effalunt" style="width: 700px; height: 388px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"'Mamma always allows us to do what we like Saturday afternoon,
@@ -18336,7 +18075,7 @@ but I am always interested in odd people, and I really had nothing
 else to write about. Bless you!"</p>
 </blockquote>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <blockquote>
 
@@ -18476,7 +18215,7 @@ naughtiness. Read him bits of my letters. I haven't time to
 write much, and that will do just as well. Thank Heaven Beth continues
 so comfortable."</p>
 
-<hr class="tiny" />
+<hr class="tiny" >
 
 <p class="right">"<span class="smc">January.</span></p>
 
@@ -18499,10 +18238,8 @@ marked. Thank you all, heaps and heaps!</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 546px;">
-<a name="b153.png" id="b153.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b153.png" width="546" height="400"
-alt="I sat down upon the floor and read and looked and ate"
-title="I sat down upon the floor and read and looked and ate" />
+<a id="b153.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b153.png" alt="I sat down upon the floor and read and looked and ate" title="I sat down upon the floor and read and looked and ate" style="width: 546px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <blockquote>
@@ -18569,23 +18306,19 @@ Bless you all! Ever your loving</p>
 </blockquote>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
-<a name="b154.png" id="b154.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b154.png" width="300" height="304"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b154.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b154.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 300px; height: 304px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXIV. A Friend.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 502px;">
-<a name="b155.png" id="b155.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b155.png" width="502" height="400"
-alt="In the presence of three gentlemen"
-title="In the presence of three gentlemen" />
+<a id="b155.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b155.png" alt="In the presence of three gentlemen" title="In the presence of three gentlemen" style="width: 502px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXIV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXIV"></a><a href="#contents2">XXXIV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">A FRIEND.</p>
 
@@ -18866,10 +18599,8 @@ with her, one night, to a select symposium, held in honor of several
 celebrities.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 576px;">
-<a name="b156.png" id="b156.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b156.png" width="576" height="400"
-alt="A select symposium"
-title="A select symposium" />
+<a id="b156.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b156.png" alt="A select symposium" title="A select symposium" style="width: 576px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo went prepared to bow down and adore the mighty ones whom
@@ -18962,10 +18693,8 @@ and his head-gear, for he was going to read her the "Death of
 Wallenstein."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b157.png" id="b157.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b157.png" width="400" height="577"
-alt="He doesn&#39;t prink at his glass before coming"
-title="He doesn&#39;t prink at his glass before coming" />
+<a id="b157.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b157.png" alt="He doesn&#39;t prink at his glass before coming" title="He doesn&#39;t prink at his glass before coming" style="width: 400px; height: 577px">
 </div>
 
 <p>She said nothing at first, for she liked to hear him laugh out his
@@ -19080,10 +18809,8 @@ got hold of them?"</p>
 stove, nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 552px;">
-<a name="b158.png" id="b158.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b158.png" width="552" height="400"
-alt="Jo stuffed the whole bundle into the stove"
-title="Jo stuffed the whole bundle into the stove" />
+<a id="b158.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b158.png" alt="Jo stuffed the whole bundle into the stove" title="Jo stuffed the whole bundle into the stove" style="width: 552px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Yes, that's the best place for such inflammable nonsense; I'd
@@ -19230,17 +18957,15 @@ keep her company, and, best of all, the happy thought,—</p>
 fortune; but I've made a friend worth having, and I'll try to keep
 him all my life."</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXV. Heartache.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 521px;">
-<a name="b159.png" id="b159.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b159.png" width="521" height="400"
-alt="He put the sisters into the carriage"
-title="He put the sisters into the carriage" />
+<a id="b159.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b159.png" alt="He put the sisters into the carriage" title="He put the sisters into the carriage" style="width: 521px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXV"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">HEARTACHE.</p>
 
@@ -19359,10 +19084,8 @@ for him; so he just laid his head down on the mossy post, and stood
 so still that Jo was frightened.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 539px;">
-<a name="b160.png" id="b160.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b160.png" width="539" height="400"
-alt="He laid his head down on the mossy post"
-title="He laid his head down on the mossy post" />
+<a id="b160.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b160.png" alt="He laid his head down on the mossy post" title="He laid his head down on the mossy post" style="width: 539px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -19731,10 +19454,8 @@ his short appeal both eloquent and pathetic.</p>
 <p>"O Jo, can't you?"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b161.png" id="b161.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b161.png" width="400" height="634"
-alt="O Jo, can&#39;t you?"
-title="O Jo, can&#39;t you?" />
+<a id="b161.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b161.png" alt="O Jo, can&#39;t you?" title="O Jo, can&#39;t you?" style="width: 400px; height: 634px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Teddy, dear, I wish I could!"</p>
@@ -19749,16 +19470,14 @@ a look behind him, she knew that the boy Laurie never would come
 again.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
-<a name="b162.png" id="b162.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b162.png" width="300" height="242"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b162.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b162.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 300px; height: 242px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXVI. Beth's Secret.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXVI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXVI"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXVI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">BETH'S SECRET.</p>
 
@@ -19809,10 +19528,8 @@ when she lay on the warm rocks, with her head in Jo's lap, while the
 winds blew healthfully over her, and the sea made music at her feet.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 579px;">
-<a name="b163.png" id="b163.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b163.png" width="579" height="400"
-alt="With her head in Jo&#39;s lap, while the wind blew healthfully over her"
-title="With her head in Jo&#39;s lap, while the wind blew healthfully over her" />
+<a id="b163.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b163.png" alt="With her head in Jo&#39;s lap, while the wind blew healthfully over her" title="With her head in Jo&#39;s lap, while the wind blew healthfully over her" style="width: 579px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>One day Beth told her. Jo thought she was asleep, she lay so still;
@@ -19993,23 +19710,19 @@ out her arms as if for help, and Jo went to comfort her without a
 word.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 592px;">
-<a name="b164.png" id="b164.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b164.png" width="592" height="400"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b164.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b164.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 592px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXVII. New Impressions.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 582px;">
-<a name="b165.png" id="b165.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b165.png" width="582" height="400"
-alt="He hurried forward to meet her"
-title="He hurried forward to meet her" />
+<a id="b165.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b165.png" alt="He hurried forward to meet her" title="He hurried forward to meet her" style="width: 582px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXVII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXVII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXVII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">NEW IMPRESSIONS.</p>
 
@@ -20289,10 +20002,8 @@ handing her a delicate nosegay, in a holder that she had long
 coveted as she daily passed it in Cardiglia's window.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 478px;">
-<a name="b166.png" id="b166.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b166.png" width="478" height="400"
-alt="Here are your flowers"
-title="Here are your flowers" />
+<a id="b166.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b166.png" alt="Here are your flowers" title="Here are your flowers" style="width: 478px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"How kind you are!" she exclaimed gratefully. "If I'd known
@@ -20501,17 +20212,15 @@ of the evening, in the most delightful manner; but the impulse that
 wrought this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions
 which both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXVIII. On the Shelf.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 648px;">
-<a name="b167.png" id="b167.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b167.png" width="648" height="400"
-alt="Demi and Daisy"
-title="Demi and Daisy" />
+<a id="b167.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b167.png" alt="Demi and Daisy" title="Demi and Daisy" style="width: 648px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXVIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXVIII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXVIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">ON THE SHELF.</p>
 
@@ -20824,10 +20533,8 @@ over that canvas," said Meg, answering the
 call.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 255px;">
-<a name="b168.png" id="b168.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b168.png" width="255" height="500"
-alt="Mornin&#39; now"
-title="Mornin&#39; now" />
+<a id="b168.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b168.png" alt="Mornin&#39; now" title="Mornin&#39; now" style="width: 255px; height: 500px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Mornin' now," announced Demi, in a
@@ -20995,10 +20702,8 @@ aloud,—</p>
 <p>"That's very pretty; is it what you call a breakfast-cap?"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 523px;">
-<a name="b169.png" id="b169.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b169.png" width="523" height="400"
-alt="My dear man, it&#39;s a bonnet"
-title="My dear man, it&#39;s a bonnet" />
+<a id="b169.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b169.png" alt="My dear man, it&#39;s a bonnet" title="My dear man, it&#39;s a bonnet" style="width: 523px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"My dear man, it's a bonnet! My very best go-to-concert-and-theatre
@@ -21069,29 +20774,23 @@ her highest honor the art of ruling it, not as a queen, but a wise wife
 and mother.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b170.png" id="b170.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b170.png" width="400" height="248"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b170.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b170.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 400px; height: 248px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XXXIX. Lazy Laurence.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 589px;">
-<a name="b171.png" id="b171.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b171.png" width="589" height="254"
-alt="Sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped"
-title="Sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped" />
+<a id="b171.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b171.png" alt="Sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped" title="Sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped" style="width: 589px; height: 254px">
 </div>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 246px;">
-<img src="images/b171b.png" width="246" height="453"
-alt="Laurie threw himself down on the turf"
-title="Laurie threw himself down on the turf" />
+<img src="images/b171b.png" alt="Laurie threw himself down on the turf" title="Laurie threw himself down on the turf" style="width: 246px; height: 453px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXIX.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XXXIX"></a><a href="#contents2b">XXXIX.</a></p>
 <p class="h2a">LAZY LAURENCE.</p>
 
 <p><span class="smc">Laurie</span> went to Nice intending to stay a
@@ -21322,10 +21021,8 @@ sun; come and lie on the grass here, and 'let us be friendly,' as Jo
 used to say when we got in the sofa-corner and told secrets."</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 497px;">
-<a name="b172.png" id="b172.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b172.png" width="497" height="400"
-alt="Laurie threw himself down on the turf"
-title="Laurie threw himself down on the turf" />
+<a id="b172.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b172.png" alt="Laurie threw himself down on the turf" title="Laurie threw himself down on the turf" style="width: 497px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Laurie obediently threw himself down on the turf, and began to
@@ -21687,10 +21384,8 @@ the little lesson she had given him. That satisfied her; and, without
 waiting for him to speak, she said, in her sprightly way,—</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 419px;">
-<a name="b173.png" id="b173.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b173.png" width="419" height="400"
-alt="A rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse"
-title="A rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse" />
+<a id="b173.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b173.png" alt="A rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse" title="A rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse" style="width: 419px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Don't you remember the day you played Rarey with Puck, and
@@ -21758,17 +21453,15 @@ smile; the next minute her face fell as she glanced about the empty
 room, adding, with an involuntary sigh,—</p>
 <p>"Yes, I <i>am</i> glad, but how I shall miss him!"</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XL. The Valley of the Shadow.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 546px;">
-<a name="b174.png" id="b174.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b174.png" width="546" height="400"
-alt="The Valley of the Shadow"
-title="The Valley of the Shadow" />
+<a id="b174.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b174.png" alt="The Valley of the Shadow" title="The Valley of the Shadow" style="width: 546px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XL" id="XL"></a><a href="#contents2b">XL.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XL"></a><a href="#contents2b">XL.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.</p>
 
@@ -21885,7 +21578,7 @@ shows me all her things, and I don't think she'll mind if I look at
 this," thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the
 rug, with the tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log
 fell apart.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="center">"MY BETH.</p>
 
@@ -21907,7 +21600,7 @@ fell apart.</p>
     Of the deep and solemn river</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        Where her willing feet now stand.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "O my sister, passing from me,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -21925,7 +21618,7 @@ fell apart.</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        In its prison-house of pain.</p>
 
-<br />
+<br >
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "Give me, for I need it sorely,</p>
@@ -21943,7 +21636,7 @@ fell apart.</p>
 		 Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake—</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        Meek heart, forgive me mine!</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "Thus our parting daily loseth</p>
@@ -21961,7 +21654,7 @@ fell apart.</p>
      Give to life new aspirations,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        A new trust in the unseen.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "Henceforth, safe across the river,</p>
@@ -22052,23 +21745,19 @@ peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and
 thanked God that Beth was well at last.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 598px;">
-<a name="b175.png" id="b175.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b175.png" width="598" height="400"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b175.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b175.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 598px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLI. Learning to Forget.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;">
-<a name="b176.png" id="b176.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b176.png" width="509" height="400"
-alt="Sat staring up at the busts"
-title="Sat staring up at the busts" />
+<a id="b176.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b176.png" alt="Sat staring up at the busts" title="Sat staring up at the busts" style="width: 509px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLI" id="XLI"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLI"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">LEARNING TO FORGET.</p>
 
@@ -22262,10 +21951,8 @@ with affliction, this seemed a more proper way to spend the
 rest of the day than in writing letters to charming young ladies.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b177.png" id="b177.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b177.png" width="400" height="487"
-alt="Turning the ring thoughtfully upon his finger"
-title="Turning the ring thoughtfully upon his finger" />
+<a id="b177.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b177.png" alt="Turning the ring thoughtfully upon his finger" title="Turning the ring thoughtfully upon his finger" style="width: 400px; height: 487px">
 </div>
 
 <p>The letter went very soon, however, and was promptly answered,
@@ -22388,10 +22075,8 @@ tone of unmistakable love and longing,—</p>
 <p>"O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you'd come to me!"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 505px;">
-<a name="b178.png" id="b178.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b178.png" width="505" height="400"
-alt="O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you&#39;d come"
-title="O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you&#39;d come" />
+<a id="b178.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b178.png" alt="O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you&#39;d come" title="O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you&#39;d come" style="width: 505px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>I think everything was said and settled then; for, as they stood
@@ -22544,10 +22229,8 @@ she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the
 boat went smoothly through the water.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 534px;">
-<a name="b179.png" id="b179.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b179.png" width="534" height="400"
-alt="How well we pull together"
-title="How well we pull together" />
+<a id="b179.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b179.png" alt="How well we pull together" title="How well we pull together" style="width: 534px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"How well we pull together, don't we?" said Amy, who objected
@@ -22562,10 +22245,10 @@ you, Amy?" very tenderly.</p>
 little <i>tableau</i> of human love and happiness to the dissolving views
 reflected in the lake.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLII. All Alone.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLII" id="XLII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">ALL ALONE.</p>
 
@@ -22629,10 +22312,8 @@ falter in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he, too, needed
 help, and did not fear to ask it.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 451px;">
-<a name="b180.png" id="b180.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b180.png" width="451" height="400"
-alt="Jo and her father"
-title="Jo and her father" />
+<a id="b180.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b180.png" alt="Jo and her father" title="Jo and her father" style="width: 451px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Jo told her
@@ -22890,10 +22571,8 @@ fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag-bag, and cried,
 as if in opposition to the rain pattering on the roof.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 621px;">
-<a name="b181.png" id="b181.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b181.png" width="621" height="400"
-alt="Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried"
-title="Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried" />
+<a id="b181.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b181.png" alt="Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried" title="Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried" style="width: 621px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -22901,17 +22580,15 @@ Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? or was it the waking
 up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer?
 Who shall say?</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLIII. Surprises</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 495px;">
-<a name="b182.png" id="b182.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b182.png" width="495" height="400"
-alt="A substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her"
-title="A substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her" />
+<a id="b182.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b182.png" alt="A substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her" title="A substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her" style="width: 495px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLIII" id="XLIII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLIII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLIII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLIII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">SURPRISES.</p>
 
@@ -23331,10 +23008,8 @@ small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much
 as it delighted his boyish soul.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;">
-<a name="b183.png" id="b183.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b183.png" width="417" height="400"
-alt="The tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew"
-title="The tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew" />
+<a id="b183.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b183.png" alt="The tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew" title="The tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew" style="width: 417px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Blest if she ain't in silk from head to foot? Ain't it a relishin' sight
@@ -23402,10 +23077,8 @@ as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get
 him in.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b184.png" id="b184.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b184.png" width="400" height="463"
-alt="O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you"
-title="O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you" />
+<a id="b184.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b184.png" alt="O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you" title="O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you" style="width: 400px; height: 463px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"And I to see Miss Marsch,—but no, you haf a party—" and
@@ -23560,10 +23233,8 @@ where Jo stood, saying,—</p>
 <p>"You will sing with me? We go excellently well together."</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b185.png" id="b185.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b185.png" width="400" height="637"
-alt="Mr. Bhaer sang heartily"
-title="Mr. Bhaer sang heartily" />
+<a id="b185.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b185.png" alt="Mr. Bhaer sang heartily" title="Mr. Bhaer sang heartily" style="width: 400px; height: 637px">
 </div>
 
 <p>A pleasing fiction, by the way; for Jo had no more idea of music
@@ -23649,17 +23320,15 @@ who appeared to be gazing darkly into futurity, it might have thrown
 some light upon the subject, especially when he turned off the gas,
 and kissed the picture in the dark.</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLIV. My Lord and Lady.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 429px;">
-<a name="b186.png" id="b186.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b186.png" width="429" height="400"
-alt="Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother&#39;s lap"
-title="Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother&#39;s lap" />
+<a id="b186.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b186.png" alt="Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother&#39;s lap" title="Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother&#39;s lap" style="width: 429px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLIV" id="XLIV"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLIV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLIV"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLIV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">MY LORD AND LADY.</p>
 
@@ -23811,10 +23480,8 @@ they began to pace up and down the long drawing-room, arm-in-arm,
 as they were fond of doing, in memory of the chateau garden.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b187.png" id="b187.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b187.png" width="400" height="497"
-alt="They began to pace up and down"
-title="They began to pace up and down" />
+<a id="b187.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b187.png" alt="They began to pace up and down" title="They began to pace up and down" style="width: 400px; height: 497px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Jo would find us out, and spoil it all; she is very proud of him,
@@ -23896,16 +23563,14 @@ more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember
 those less blest than they.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
-<a name="b188.png" id="b188.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b188.png" width="300" height="375"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b188.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b188.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 300px; height: 375px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLV. Daisy and Demi.</h2>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLV" id="XLV"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLV.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLV"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLV.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">DAISY AND DEMI.</p>
 
@@ -23963,10 +23628,8 @@ relented, and baby-lovers
 became faithful worshippers.</p>
 
 <div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b189.png" id="b189.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b189.png" width="400" height="544"
-alt="Me loves evvybody"
-title="Me loves evvybody" />
+<a id="b189.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b189.png" alt="Me loves evvybody" title="Me loves evvybody" style="width: 400px; height: 544px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Me loves evvybody," she
@@ -23997,10 +23660,8 @@ which the precocious pupil occasionally posed his teacher, to the undisguised
 satisfaction of the womenfolk.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 416px;">
-<a name="b190.png" id="b190.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b190.png" width="416" height="400"
-alt="What makes my legs go, dranpa?"
-title="What makes my legs go, dranpa?" />
+<a id="b190.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b190.png" alt="What makes my legs go, dranpa?" title="What makes my legs go, dranpa?" style="width: 416px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"What makes my legs go, dranpa?" asked the young philosopher,
@@ -24149,10 +23810,8 @@ took the shape of a pair of compasses, and the intelligent pupil triumphantly
 shouted, "It's a We, dranpa, it's a We!"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 531px;">
-<a name="b191.png" id="b191.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b191.png" width="531" height="400"
-alt="Dranpa, it&#39;s a We"
-title="Dranpa, it&#39;s a We" />
+<a id="b191.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b191.png" alt="Dranpa, it&#39;s a We" title="Dranpa, it&#39;s a We" style="width: 531px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"He's a born Weller," laughed Jo, as her parent gathered himself
@@ -24207,23 +23866,19 @@ of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi
 puzzled his small wits, and was forced to leave unsolved forever.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
-<a name="b192.png" id="b192.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b192.png" width="200" height="270"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b192.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b192.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 200px; height: 270px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLVI. Under the Umbrella.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b193.png" id="b193.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b193.png" width="700" height="333"
-alt="Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades"
-title="Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades" />
+<a id="b193.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b193.png" alt="Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades" title="Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades" style="width: 700px; height: 333px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLVI" id="XLVI"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLVI.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLVI"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLVI.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">UNDER THE UMBRELLA.</p>
 
@@ -24349,10 +24004,8 @@ above the unprotected bonnet, attracted her attention; and, looking
 up, she saw Mr. Bhaer looking down.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b194.png" id="b194.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b194.png" width="400" height="408"
-alt="Looking up she saw Mr. Bhaer"
-title="Looking up she saw Mr. Bhaer" />
+<a id="b194.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b194.png" alt="Looking up she saw Mr. Bhaer" title="Looking up she saw Mr. Bhaer" style="width: 400px; height: 408px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under
@@ -24531,10 +24184,8 @@ color, quite chaste and genteel," he said, shaking out a comfortable
 gray shawl, and throwing it over Jo's shoulders.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 466px;">
-<a name="b195.png" id="b195.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b195.png" width="466" height="400"
-alt="Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?"
-title="Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" />
+<a id="b195.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b195.png" alt="Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" title="Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" style="width: 466px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
 <p>"Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" she asked, turning her back
@@ -24687,7 +24338,7 @@ him; I will see that you go not in the wet."</p>
 
 <p>Jo obeyed, and hastily skimmed through the lines which she had
 christened—</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 
 <p class="center">"IN THE GARRET.</p>
 
@@ -24725,7 +24376,7 @@ christened—</p>
      That came and went on the roof aloft,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
         In the falling summer rain.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
     "'Meg' on the first lid, smooth and fair.</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -24758,7 +24409,7 @@ christened—</p>
     Lullabies ever soft and low</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       In the falling summer rain.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    "'Jo' on the next lid, scratched and worn,</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -24791,7 +24442,7 @@ christened—</p>
     'Be worthy love, and love will come,'</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       In the falling summer rain.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    "My Beth! the dust is always swept</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
@@ -24824,7 +24475,7 @@ christened—</p>
     Forever are they sweetly blent</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
       With the falling summer rain.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
    "Upon the last lid's polished field—</p>
@@ -24858,7 +24509,7 @@ christened—</p>
     The silver sound of bridal bells</p>
 <p class="indent15 left-indent10">
        In the falling summer rain.</p>
-<br />
+<br >
 
 
 <p class="indent30 left-indent10">
@@ -24969,10 +24620,8 @@ to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor,
 quite overcome.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b196.png" id="b196.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b196.png" width="400" height="519"
-alt="Under the umbrella"
-title="Under the umbrella" />
+<a id="b196.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b196.png" alt="Under the umbrella" title="Under the umbrella" style="width: 400px; height: 519px">
 </div>
 
 <p>
@@ -24989,23 +24638,19 @@ light and warmth and peace waiting to receive them, with a
 glad "Welcome home!" Jo led her lover in, and shut the door.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<a name="b197.png" id="b197.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b197.png" width="400" height="464"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b197.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b197.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 400px; height: 464px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>XLVII. Harvest Time.</h2>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 638px;">
-<a name="b198.png" id="b198.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b198.png" width="638" height="400"
-alt="Harvest time"
-title="Harvest time" />
+<a id="b198.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b198.png" alt="Harvest time" title="Harvest time" style="width: 638px; height: 400px">
 </div>
 
-<p class="h2"><a name="XLVII" id="XLVII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLVII.</a></p>
+<p class="h2"><a id="XLVII"></a><a href="#contents2b">XLVII.</a></p>
 
 <p class="h2a">HARVEST TIME.</p>
 
@@ -25271,10 +24916,8 @@ sketched the various groups, and watched over one pale lad, who sat
 adoring her with his little crutch beside him.</p>
 
 <div class="figleft" style="width: 229px;">
-<a name="b199.png" id="b199.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b199.png" width="229" height="700"
-alt="Teddy bore a charmed life"
-title="Teddy bore a charmed life" />
+<a id="b199.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b199.png" alt="Teddy bore a charmed life" title="Teddy bore a charmed life" style="width: 229px; height: 700px">
 </div>
 
 <p>Jo was in her element that day, and rushed about, with her gown
@@ -25361,10 +25004,8 @@ of all.</p>
 and her daughters under the festival tree.</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter">
-<a name="b200.png" id="b200.png"></a>
-<img class="border" src="images/b200.png" width="554" height="400"
-alt="Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree"
-title="Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree" /><br />
+<a id="b200.png"></a>
+<img class="border" src="images/b200.png" alt="Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree" title="Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree" style="width: 554px; height: 400px"><br >
 <span class="caption">
 &quot;Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree.&quot;—Page 583</span>
 </div>
@@ -25471,26 +25112,22 @@ face and voice full of motherly love, gratitude, and humility,—</p>
 greater happiness than this!"</p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
-<a name="b201.png" id="b201.png"></a>
-<img src="images/b201.png" width="700" height="230"
-alt="Tail-piece"
-title="Tail-piece" />
+<a id="b201.png"></a>
+<img src="images/b201.png" alt="Tail-piece" title="Tail-piece" style="width: 700px; height: 230px">
 </div>
 
-<p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br ></p>
 
 <div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
-<img src="images/b202.png" width="200" height="174"
-alt="Little Brown Logo"
-title="Little Brown Logo" />
+<img src="images/b202.png" alt="Little Brown Logo" title="Little Brown Logo" style="width: 200px; height: 174px">
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <h2>The Works of Louisa May Alcott</h2>
 <p class="h2">Louisa M. Alcott's Writings</p>
 
-<hr class="hr3" />
+<hr class="hr3" >
 <div id="alcottContents">
 <ul>
 <li><span class="title">THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES.</span>
@@ -25580,20 +25217,20 @@ Series. With 36 full-page plates by well-known artists. 4 vols. Crown
 
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr3"  />
+<hr class="hr3"  >
 
 <p class="h2a">LITTLE, BROWN, &amp; COMPANY</p>
 
 <p class="center"><i>Publishers</i>, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <h3>The Little Women Series</h3>
 <p class="h3">
-    The Little Women Series<br />
+    The Little Women Series<br >
     By LOUISA M. ALCOTT</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div id="alcottLittleWomen">
 
@@ -25645,7 +25282,7 @@ jolly narrative.</p>
 </ol>
 
 <p><span class="smc">the above eight volumes, uniformly bound, in box, $12.00</span></p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 <p><i>Uniform with "The Little Women Series."</i></p>
 <dl>
 <dt>COMIC TRAGEDIES</dt>
@@ -25658,13 +25295,13 @@ portraits, etc. 16mo. $1.50.</dd>
 
 </div>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 
 <h3>Other Alcott Collections.</h3>
 <p class="h3">
    Other Stories by LOUISA M. ALCOTT</p>
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div id="alcottCollections">
 <ul>
@@ -25682,7 +25319,7 @@ in the girls those virtues which fit them for filling a woman's place in the hom
 </ol>
 
 <p>The above four volumes, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, $5.00.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 </li>
 <li><span class="title">AUNT JO'S SCRAP BAG</span>
 
@@ -25707,7 +25344,7 @@ life. Told so as to attract children, and all showing the spirit of cheerful acc
 in the face of discouragements.</p>
 
 <p>Three volumes. Each, $1.00. The set, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, $3.00.</p>
-<p><br /></p>
+<p><br ></p>
 </li>
 
 <li><span class="title">MISS ALCOTT'S NOVELS</span>
@@ -25730,13 +25367,13 @@ in the face of discouragements.</p>
 
 </div>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <h3>The Children's Friend Series.</h3>
 <p class="h3">
    Other Stories by LOUISA M. ALCOTT</p>
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 
 <div id="alcottStories">
 <dl>
@@ -25798,7 +25435,7 @@ people. They will prove a source of limitless delight.</dd>
 </dl>
 </div>
 
-<hr class="hr3"  />
+<hr class="hr3"  >
 
 <p class="h2a">LITTLE, BROWN, &amp; COMPANY, Publishers</p>
 
@@ -25806,13 +25443,13 @@ people. They will prove a source of limitless delight.</dd>
 
 
 
-<hr class="hr2" />
+<hr class="hr2" >
 <h2>Transcriber's Notes</h2>
 <div class="tnote">
 
 <p class="h2a">Transcriber's Notes:</p>
 
-<hr />
+<hr >
 
 <p><span class="smc">Project Gutenberg</span> has two versions of
 Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.</p>
@@ -26116,447 +25753,6 @@ separately in small volumes, generally less than 100 pages, in
 </p>
 </div>
 
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***</div>
-<div style='text-align:left'>
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+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37106 ***</div>
 </body>
 </html>
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@@ -1,22870 +0,0 @@
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Women, by Louisa M. Alcott
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Little Women
-       or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy
-
-Author: Louisa M. Alcott
-
-Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill
-
-Release Date: August 16, 2011 [EBook #37106]
-Last Update:  August 8, 2017
-
-Language: English
-
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Edwards, Ernest Schaal, Robert Homa and the 
-Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
-(This file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-                      [Illustration: LITTLE WOMEN
-                         MEG, JO, BETH, AND AMY
-                           LOUISA M. ALCOTT]
-
-
-
-
-                              LITTLE WOMEN.
-
-
-[Illustration: "They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair, with
-Beth at her feet"
-                                              (See page 9) FRONTISPIECE]
-
-
-
-
-                              LITTLE WOMEN
-                                   OR
-                         Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy
-
-
-                                   BY
-                            LOUISA M. ALCOTT
-
-            AUTHOR OF "LITTLE MEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL"
-                     "SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES," ETC.
-
-
-         _With more than 200 illustrations by Frank T. Merrill
-             and a picture of the Home of the Little Women
-                         by Edmund H. Garrett_
-
-
-                                 BOSTON
-                     LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
-
-
-
-
-  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the years 1868 and 1869, by
-                           LOUISA M. ALCOTT,
-                      In the Clerk's office of the
-            District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
-
-
-                           _Copyright, 1880_,
-                          BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
-
-                           _Copyright, 1896_,
-                         BY JOHN S. P. ALCOTT.
-
-
-                                 BOSTON
-                    ALFRED MUDGE & SON INC. PRINTERS
-
-
-
-
-                         [Illustration: Preface]
-
-
-              "_Go then, my little Book, and show to all
-              That entertain and bid thee welcome shall,
-              What thou dost keep close shut up in thy breast;
-              And wish what thou dost show them may be blest
-              To them for good, may make them choose to be
-              Pilgrims better, by far, than thee or me.
-              Tell them of Mercy; she is one
-              Who early hath her pilgrimage begun.
-              Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize
-              The world which is to come, and so be wise;
-              For little tripping maids may follow God
-              Along the ways which saintly feet have trod._"
-
-                                     Adapted from JOHN BUNYAN.
-
-
-
-
-                        [Illustration: Contents]
-
-
-                              Part First.
-
-            CHAPTER                                         PAGE
-
-         I. PLAYING PILGRIMS                                   1
-
-        II. A MERRY CHRISTMAS                                 15
-
-       III. THE LAURENCE BOY                                  29
-
-        IV. BURDENS                                           43
-
-         V. BEING NEIGHBORLY                                  58
-
-        VI. BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL                   73
-
-       VII. AMY'S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION                       82
-
-      VIII. JO MEETS APOLLYON                                 91
-
-        IX. MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR                          104
-
-         X. THE P. C. AND P. O.                              124
-
-        XI. EXPERIMENTS                                      134
-
-       XII. CAMP LAURENCE                                    147
-
-      XIII. CASTLES IN THE AIR                               172
-
-       XIV. SECRETS                                          184
-
-        XV. A TELEGRAM                                       195
-
-       XVI. LETTERS                                          206
-
-      XVII. LITTLE FAITHFUL                                  216
-
-     XVIII. DARK DAYS                                        225
-
-       XIX. AMY'S WILL                                       234
-
-        XX. CONFIDENTIAL                                     246
-
-       XXI. LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE        254
-
-      XXII. PLEASANT MEADOWS                                 269
-
-     XXIII. AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION                  277
-
-
-                              Part Second.
-
-      XXIV. GOSSIP                                           293
-
-       XXV. THE FIRST WEDDING                                306
-
-      XXVI. ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS                                313
-
-     XXVII. LITERARY LESSONS                                 325
-
-    XXVIII. DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES                             334
-
-      XXIX. CALLS                                            350
-
-       XXX. CONSEQUENCES                                     365
-
-      XXXI. OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT                        378
-
-     XXXII. TENDER TROUBLES                                  389
-
-    XXXIII. JO'S JOURNAL                                     403
-
-     XXXIV. A FRIEND                                         418
-
-      XXXV. HEARTACHE                                        435
-
-     XXXVI. BETH'S SECRET                                    448
-
-    XXXVII. NEW IMPRESSIONS                                  454
-
-   XXXVIII. ON THE SHELF                                     466
-
-     XXXIX. LAZY LAURENCE                                    480
-
-        XL. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW                         495
-
-       XLI. LEARNING TO FORGET                               502
-
-      XLII. ALL ALONE                                        516
-
-     XLIII. SURPRISES                                        525
-
-      XLIV. MY LORD AND LADY                                 543
-
-       XLV. DAISY AND DEMI                                   550
-
-      XLVI. UNDER THE UMBRELLA                               558
-
-     XLVII. HARVEST TIME                                     575
-
-                   [Illustration: Tail-piece to Contents]
-
-
-
-
-                   [Illustration: List of illustrations.]
-
-
-   [The Illustrations, designed by FRANK T. MERRILL, drawn, engraved,
-        and printed under the supervision of GEORGE T. ANDREW.]
-
-                                                                PAGE
-
-    They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair, with
-    Beth at her feet
-                                                     _Frontispiece._
-
-    Titlepage                                                    iii
-
-    Preface                                                        v
-
-    Contents                                                     vii
-
-    Tail-piece to Contents                                        ix
-
-    List of Illustrations                                         xi
-
-    Tail-piece to Illustrations                                  xvi
-
-    Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents              1
-
-    Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm                       5
-
-    I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in
-    the big chair                                                  6
-
-    Do it this way, clasp your hands so                            7
-
-    It was a cheerful, hopeful letter                             10
-
-    How you used to play Pilgrim's Progress                       11
-
-    No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano     13
-
-    At nine they stopped work and sung as usual                   14
-
-    Merry Christmas                                               15
-
-    The procession set out                                        19
-
-    Out came Meg with gray horse-hair hanging about her face      22
-
-    A little figure in cloudy white                               23
-
-    The lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing           25
-
-    We talked over the fence                                      27
-
-    Tail-piece                                                    28
-
-    Eating apples and crying over the "Heir of Redclyffe"         29
-
-    Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks                       31
-
-    Mrs. Gardiner greeted them                                    34
-
-    Face to face with the Laurence boy                            35
-
-    They sat down on the stairs                                   39
-
-    Tell about the party                                          42
-
-    The kitten stuck like a burr just out of reach                43
-
-    Curling herself up in the big chair                           48
-
-    Reading that everlasting Belsham                              52
-
-    He took her by the ear! by the ear!                           54
-
-    Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish                             55
-
-    Tail-piece                                                    57
-
-    Being neighborly                                              58
-
-    Laurie opened the window                                      60
-
-    Poll tweaked off his wig                                      64
-
-    Putting his finger under her chin                             67
-
-    Please give these to your mother                              69
-
-    Tail-piece                                                    72
-
-    O sir, they do care very much                                 75
-
-    Mr. Laurence often opened his study door                      77
-
-    She put both arms around his neck and kissed him              81
-
-    The Cyclops                                                   82
-
-    Amy bore without flinching several tingling blows             86
-
-    You do know her                                               89
-
-    Girls, where are you going?                                   91
-
-    I burnt it up                                                 95
-
-    Held Amy up by his arms and hockey                            99
-
-    Packing the go abroady trunk                                 104
-
-    Meg's partner appeared                                       110
-
-    Asked to be introduced                                       114
-
-    I wouldn't, Meg                                              118
-
-    Holding a hand of each, Mrs. March said, &c.                 122
-
-    Mr. Pickwick                                                 125
-
-    Jo threw open the door of the closet                         131
-
-    Jo spent the morning on the river                            134
-
-    Amy sat down to draw                                         136
-
-    O Pip! O Pip!                                                140
-
-    Miss Crocker made a wry face                                 143
-
-    We'll work like bees                                         146
-
-    Beth was post-mistress                                       147
-
-    Amy capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose   151
-
-    Mr. Laurence waving his hat                                  153
-
-    Now, Miss Jo, I'll settle you                                155
-
-    A very merry lunch it was                                    156
-
-    He went prancing down a quiet street                         158
-
-    "Oh, rise," she said                                         159
-
-    A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon                   159
-
-    He sneezed                                                   160
-
-    The Portuguese walked the plank                              161
-
-    Will you give me a rose?                                     162
-
-    Miss Kate put up her glass                                   167
-
-    Ellen Tree                                                   168
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   171
-
-    Swinging to and fro in his hammock                           172
-
-    It was rather a pretty little picture                        174
-
-    Waved a brake before her face                                178
-
-    I see him bow and smile                                      181
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   183
-
-    Jo was very busy                                             184
-
-    Hurrah for Miss March                                        189
-
-    Jo darted away                                               190
-
-    Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read             193
-
-    November is the most disagreeable month in the year          195
-
-    One of them horrid telegraph things                          197
-
-    She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke                            199
-
-    The man clipped                                              203
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   205
-
-    Letters                                                      206
-
-    She rolled away                                              208
-
-    I wind the clock                                             213
-
-    Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet                              214
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   215
-
-    It didn't stir, and I knew it was dead                       218
-
-    He sat down beside her                                       221
-
-    What do you want now?                                        224
-
-    Beth did have the fever                                      225
-
-    Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do            228
-
-    Amy's Will                                                   234
-
-    Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot               235
-
-    On his back, with all his legs in the air                    236
-
-    I should choose this                                         237
-
-    Gravely promenaded to and fro                                241
-
-    Amy's Will                                                   243
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   245
-
-    Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side                       246
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   253
-
-    Letters                                                      254
-
-    Jo and her mother were reading the note                      256
-
-    Get up and don't be a goose                                  261
-
-    "Hold your tongue!" cried Jo, covering her ears              263
-
-    He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path                265
-
-    Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day          269
-
-    The Jungfrau                                                 271
-
-    Popping in her head now and then                             277
-
-    He sat in the big chair by Beth's sofa with the other
-    three close by                                               277
-
-    Shall I tell you how?                                        280
-
-    Bless me, what's all this?                                   282
-
-    For Mrs. John Brooke                                         288
-
-    Home of the Little Women                                     290
-
-    The Dove Cote                                                293
-
-    A small watchman's rattle                                    302
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   305
-
-    The First Wedding                                            306
-
-    Artistic Attempts                                            313
-
-    Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster                    315
-
-    Please don't, it's mine                                      322
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   324
-
-    Literary Lessons                                             325
-
-    A check for one hundred dollars                              329
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   333
-
-    Domestic Experiences                                         334
-
-    Both felt desperately uncomfortable                          341
-
-    A bargain, I assure you, ma'am                               344
-
-    Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put
-    into his arms                                                348
-
-    Calls                                                        350
-
-    She took the saddle to the horse                             355
-
-    It might have been worse                                     359
-
-    The call at Aunt March's                                     362
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   364
-
-    You shall have another table                                 365
-
-    Bought up the bouquets                                       372
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   377
-
-    Flo and I ordered a hansom-cab                               378
-
-    Every one was very kind, especially the officers             378
-
-    I've seen the imperial family several times                  384
-
-    Trying to sketch the gray-stone lion's head on the wall      387
-
-    She leaned her head upon her hands                           391
-
-    Now, this is filling at the price                            395
-
-    Up with the Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee                         398
-
-    I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over
-    the seat                                                     403
-
-    Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer                                     406
-
-    He waved his hand, sock and all                              409
-
-    Dis is mine effalunt                                         410
-
-    I sat down upon the floor and read and looked and ate        415
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   417
-
-    In the presence of three gentlemen                           418
-
-    A select symposium                                           425
-
-    He doesn't prink at his glass before coming                  428
-
-    Jo stuffed the whole bundle into the stove                   431
-
-    He put the sisters into the carriage                         435
-
-    He laid his head down on the mossy post                      438
-
-    O Jo, can't you?                                             446
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   447
-
-    With her head in Jo's lap, while the wind blew
-    healthfully over her                                         449
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   453
-
-    He hurried forward to meet her                               454
-
-    Here are your flowers                                        461
-
-    Demi and Daisy                                               466
-
-    Mornin' now                                                  473
-
-    My dear man, it's a bonnet                                   477
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   479
-
-    Sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped                480
-
-    Laurie threw himself down on the turf                        485
-
-    A rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse                      493
-
-    The Valley of the Shadow                                     495
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   501
-
-    Sat staring up at the busts                                  502
-
-    Turning the ring thoughtfully upon his finger                507
-
-    O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you'd come                          511
-
-    How well we pull together                                    515
-
-    Jo and her father                                            518
-
-    Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried          524
-
-    A substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her                525
-
-    The tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the
-    small nephew                                                 534
-
-    O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you                         537
-
-    Mr. Bhaer sang heartily                                      541
-
-    Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother's lap                    543
-
-    They began to pace up and down                               547
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   549
-
-    Me loves evvybody                                            551
-
-    What makes my legs go, dranpa?                               552
-
-    Dranpa, it's a We                                            556
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   557
-
-    Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades                    558
-
-    Looking up she saw Mr. Bhaer                                 561
-
-    Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?                               565
-
-    Under the umbrella                                           573
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   574
-
-    Harvest time                                                 575
-
-    Teddy bore a charmed life                                    582
-
-    Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival
-    tree                                                         583
-
-    Tail-piece                                                   586
-
-              [Illustration: Tail-piece to Illustrations]
-
-
-
-
-   [Illustration: Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents]
-
-                                   I.
-
-                           PLAYING PILGRIMS.
-
-
-"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying
-on the rug.
-
-"It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her old
-dress.
-
-"I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things,
-and other girls nothing at all," added little Amy, with an injured
-sniff.
-
-"We've got father and mother and each other," said Beth contentedly,
-from her corner.
-
-The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the
-cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly,--
-
-"We haven't got father, and shall not have him for a long time." She
-didn't say "perhaps never," but each silently added it, thinking of
-father far away, where the fighting was.
-
-Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone,--
-
-"You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents this
-Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for every one; and
-she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men are
-suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can make our little
-sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't;" and Meg
-shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she
-wanted.
-
-"But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've
-each got a dollar, and the army wouldn't be much helped by our giving
-that. I agree not to expect anything from mother or you, but I do want
-to buy Undine and Sintram for myself; I've wanted it _so_ long," said
-Jo, who was a bookworm.
-
-"I planned to spend mine in new music," said Beth, with a little sigh,
-which no one heard but the hearth-brush and kettle-holder.
-
-"I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing-pencils; I really need them,"
-said Amy decidedly.
-
-"Mother didn't say anything about our money, and she won't wish us to
-give up everything. Let's each buy what we want, and have a little fun;
-I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it," cried Jo, examining the heels
-of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.
-
-"I know _I_ do,--teaching those tiresome children nearly all day, when
-I'm longing to enjoy myself at home," began Meg, in the complaining tone
-again.
-
-"You don't have half such a hard time as I do," said Jo. "How would you
-like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps
-you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till you're ready to
-fly out of the window or cry?"
-
-"It's naughty to fret; but I do think washing dishes and keeping things
-tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross; and my hands get
-so stiff, I can't practise well at all;" and Beth looked at her rough
-hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.
-
-"I don't believe any of you suffer as I do," cried Amy; "for you don't
-have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if you don't
-know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if
-he isn't rich, and insult you when your nose isn't nice."
-
-"If you mean _libel_, I'd say so, and not talk about _labels_, as if
-papa was a pickle-bottle," advised Jo, laughing.
-
-"I know what I mean, and you needn't be _statirical_ about it. It's
-proper to use good words, and improve your _vocabilary_," returned Amy,
-with dignity.
-
-"Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the money
-papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! how happy and good we'd be,
-if we had no worries!" said Meg, who could remember better times.
-
-"You said the other day, you thought we were a deal happier than the
-King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in
-spite of their money."
-
-"So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are; for, though we do have to work,
-we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say."
-
-"Jo does use such slang words!" observed Amy, with a reproving look at
-the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her
-hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.
-
-"Don't, Jo; it's so boyish!"
-
-"That's why I do it."
-
-"I detest rude, unlady-like girls!"
-
-"I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!"
-
-"'Birds in their little nests agree,'" sang Beth, the peace-maker, with
-such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and the
-"pecking" ended for that time.
-
-"Really, girls, you are both to be blamed," said Meg, beginning to
-lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. "You are old enough to leave off
-boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It didn't matter so much
-when you were a little girl; but now you are so tall, and turn up your
-hair, you should remember that you are a young lady."
-
-"I'm not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two
-tails till I'm twenty," cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking down
-a chestnut mane. "I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss
-March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster! It's bad
-enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys' games and work and
-manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it's
-worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with papa, and I can
-only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman!" And Jo shook the
-blue army-sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball
-bounded across the room.
-
-"Poor Jo! It's too bad, but it can't be helped; so you must try to be
-contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us
-girls," said Beth, stroking the rough head at her knee with a hand that
-all the dish-washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in
-its touch.
-
-"As for you, Amy," continued Meg, "you are altogether too particular and
-prim. Your airs are funny now; but you'll grow up an affected little
-goose, if you don't take care. I like your nice manners and refined ways
-of speaking, when you don't try to be elegant; but your absurd words are
-as bad as Jo's slang."
-
-"If Jo is a tom-boy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?" asked Beth,
-ready to share the lecture.
-
-"You're a dear, and nothing else," answered Meg warmly; and no one
-contradicted her, for the "Mouse" was the pet of the family.
-
-As young readers like to know "how people look," we will take this
-moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat
-knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly
-without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable
-old room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain; for
-a good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses,
-chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a
-pleasant atmosphere of home-peace pervaded it.
-
-Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being
-plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet
-mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old
-Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she
-never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very
-much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp,
-gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce,
-funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it
-was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders
-had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the
-uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a
-woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth--or Beth, as every one called
-her--was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy
-manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom
-disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name
-suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her
-own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy,
-though the youngest, was a most important person,--in her own opinion at
-least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling
-on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a
-young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four
-sisters were we will leave to be found out.
-
-The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair
-of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good
-effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened
-to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out
-of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was
-as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.
-
-        [Illustration: Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm]
-
-"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."
-
-"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.
-
-"No, I shall!" cried Amy.
-
-"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided--
-
-"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and _I_ shall provide the
-slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was
-gone."
-
-"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something
-for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."
-
-"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.
-
-Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the
-idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give
-her a nice pair of gloves."
-
-"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.
-
-"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.
-
-"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost
-much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.
-
-"How will we give the things?" asked Meg.
-
-"Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles.
-Don't you remember how we used to do on our birthdays?" answered Jo.
-
-        [Illustration: I used to be so frightened when it was my
-                     turn to sit in the big chair]
-
-"I used to be _so_ frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big
-chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the
-presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was
-dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles," said
-Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea, at the same time.
-
-"Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise
-her. We must go shopping to-morrow afternoon, Meg; there is so much to
-do about the play for Christmas night," said Jo, marching up and down,
-with her hands behind her back and her nose in the air.
-
-"I don't mean to act any more after this time; I'm getting too old for
-such things," observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever about
-"dressing-up" frolics.
-
-"You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown
-with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are the best
-actress we've got, and there'll be an end of everything if you quit the
-boards," said Jo. "We ought to rehearse to-night. Come here, Amy, and do
-the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that."
-
-"I can't help it; I never saw any one faint, and I don't choose to make
-myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down
-easily, I'll drop; if I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be
-graceful; I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol," returned
-Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power, but was chosen because she
-was small enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the piece.
-
-          [Illustration: Do it this way, clasp your hands so]
-
-"Do it this way; clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room,
-crying frantically, 'Roderigo! save me! save me!'" and away went Jo,
-with a melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling.
-
-Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked
-herself along as if she went by machinery; and her "Ow!" was more
-suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave
-a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread
-burn as she watched the fun, with interest.
-
-"It's no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the
-audience laugh, don't blame me. Come on, Meg."
-
-Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of
-two pages without a single break; Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful
-incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect;
-Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of
-remorse and arsenic, with a wild "Ha! ha!"
-
-"It's the best we've had yet," said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and
-rubbed his elbows.
-
-"I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You're
-a regular Shakespeare!" exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her
-sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things.
-
-"Not quite," replied Jo modestly. "I do think 'The Witch's Curse, an
-Operatic Tragedy,' is rather a nice thing; but I'd like to try Macbeth,
-if we only had a trap-door for Banquo. I always wanted to do the killing
-part. 'Is that a dagger that I see before me?'" muttered Jo, rolling her
-eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do.
-
-"No, it's the toasting fork, with mother's shoe on it instead of the
-bread. Beth's stage-struck!" cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a
-general burst of laughter.
-
-"Glad to find you so merry, my girls," said a cheery voice at the door,
-and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady, with a
-"can-I-help-you" look about her which was truly delightful. She was not
-elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and the girls thought the
-gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in
-the world.
-
-"Well, dearies, how have you got on to-day? There was so much to do,
-getting the boxes ready to go to-morrow, that I didn't come home to
-dinner. Has any one called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look
-tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby."
-
-While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off,
-her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy-chair, drew Amy to
-her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls
-flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg
-arranged the tea-table; Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping,
-overturning, and clattering everything she touched; Beth trotted to and
-fro between parlor and kitchen, quiet and busy; while Amy gave
-directions to every one, as she sat with her hands folded.
-
-As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly
-happy face, "I've got a treat for you after supper."
-
-A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped
-her hands, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her
-napkin, crying, "A letter! a letter! Three cheers for father!"
-
-"Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through
-the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving
-wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls," said Mrs.
-March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there.
-
-"Hurry and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger, and simper
-over your plate, Amy," cried Jo, choking in her tea, and dropping her
-bread, butter side down, on the carpet, in her haste to get at the
-treat.
-
-Beth ate no more, but crept away, to sit in her shadowy corner and brood
-over the delight to come, till the others were ready.
-
-"I think it was so splendid in father to go as a chaplain when he was
-too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier," said Meg
-warmly.
-
-"Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a _vivan_--what's its name? or a
-nurse, so I could be near him and help him," exclaimed Jo, with a groan.
-
-"It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of
-bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug," sighed Amy.
-
-"When will he come home, Marmee?" asked Beth, with a little quiver in
-her voice.
-
-"Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his
-work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him back a
-minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter."
-
-They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair with Beth at her
-feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on
-the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter
-should happen to be touching.
-
-Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not
-touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little
-was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the
-homesickness conquered; it was a cheerful, hopeful letter, full of
-lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news; and only
-at the end did the writer's heart overflow with fatherly love and
-longing for the little girls at home.
-
-           [Illustration: It was a cheerful, hopeful letter]
-
-"Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by
-day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection
-at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, but
-remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days
-need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that
-they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully,
-fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so
-beautifully, that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder
-than ever of my little women."
-
-Everybody sniffed when they came to that part; Jo wasn't ashamed of the
-great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded
-the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder
-and sobbed out, "I _am_ a selfish girl! but I'll truly try to be better,
-so he mayn't be disappointed in me by and by."
-
-"We all will!" cried Meg. "I think too much of my looks, and hate to
-work, but won't any more, if I can help it."
-
-"I'll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman,' and not be
-rough and wild; but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere
-else," said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much
-harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.
-
-Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army-sock, and
-began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that
-lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all
-that father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy
-coming home.
-
-        [Illustration: How you used to play Pilgrim's Progress]
-
-Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her
-cheery voice, "Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrim's Progress
-when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me
-tie my piece-bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks
-and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the
-cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the house-top,
-where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a
-Celestial City."
-
-"What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and
-passing through the Valley where the hobgoblins were!" said Jo.
-
-"I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled down stairs,"
-said Meg.
-
-"My favorite part was when we came out on the flat roof where our
-flowers and arbors and pretty things were, and all stood and sung for
-joy up there in the sunshine," said Beth, smiling, as if that pleasant
-moment had come back to her.
-
-"I don't remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar
-and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the
-top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it
-over again," said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things
-at the mature age of twelve.
-
-"We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are
-playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our
-road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the
-guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace
-which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you
-begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get
-before father comes home."
-
-"Really, mother? Where are our bundles?" asked Amy, who was a very
-literal young lady.
-
-"Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth; I rather
-think she hasn't got any," said her mother.
-
-"Yes, I have; mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice
-pianos, and being afraid of people."
-
-Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh; but
-nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much.
-
-"Let us do it," said Meg thoughtfully. "It is only another name for
-trying to be good, and the story may help us; for though we do want to
-be good, it's hard work, and we forget, and don't do our best."
-
-"We were in the Slough of Despond to-night, and mother came and pulled
-us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions,
-like Christian. What shall we do about that?" asked Jo, delighted with
-the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her
-duty.
-
-"Look under your pillows, Christmas morning, and you will find your
-guide-book," replied Mrs. March.
-
-They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table; then
-out came the four little work-baskets, and the needles flew as the girls
-made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but to-night no
-one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into
-four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America,
-and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the
-different countries as they stitched their way through them.
-
-   [Illustration: No one but Beth could get much music out of the old
-                                 piano]
-
-At nine they stopped work, and sung, as usual, before they went to bed.
-No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano; but she had a
-way of softly touching the yellow keys, and making a pleasant
-accompaniment to the simple songs they sung. Meg had a voice like a
-flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a
-cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always
-coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoilt the
-most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could
-lisp
-
-        "Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar,"
-
-and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer.
-The first sound in the morning was her voice, as she went about the
-house singing like a lark; and the last sound at night was the same
-cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar
-lullaby.
-
-      [Illustration: At nine they stopped work and sung as usual]
-
-
-
-
-                   [Illustration: A Merry Christmas]
-
-                                   II.
-
-                           A MERRY CHRISTMAS.
-
-
-Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No
-stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much
-disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because
-it was so crammed with goodies. Then she remembered her mother's
-promise, and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little
-crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful
-old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true
-guide-book for any pilgrim going the long journey. She woke Meg with a
-"Merry Christmas," and bade her see what was under her pillow. A
-green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few
-words written by their mother, which made their one present very
-precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke, to rummage and find
-their little books also,--one dove-colored, the other blue; and all sat
-looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the
-coming day.
-
-In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and pious nature,
-which unconsciously influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her
-very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given.
-
-"Girls," said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to
-the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond, "mother wants us to
-read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once. We used
-to be faithful about it; but since father went away, and all this war
-trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you
-please; but _I_ shall keep my book on the table here, and read a little
-every morning as soon as I wake, for I know it will do me good, and help
-me through the day."
-
-Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round
-her, and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression
-so seldom seen on her restless face.
-
-"How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let's do as they do. I'll help you with the
-hard words, and they'll explain things if we don't understand,"
-whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters'
-example.
-
-"I'm glad mine is blue," said Amy; and then the rooms were very still
-while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to
-touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting.
-
-"Where is mother?" asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for
-their gifts, half an hour later.
-
-"Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter come a-beggin', and your ma went
-straight off to see what was needed. There never _was_ such a woman for
-givin' away vittles and drink, clothes and firin'," replied Hannah, who
-had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them
-all more as a friend than a servant.
-
-"She will be back soon, I think; so fry your cakes, and have everything
-ready," said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a
-basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time.
-"Why, where is Amy's bottle of cologne?" she added, as the little flask
-did not appear.
-
-"She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put a ribbon on
-it, or some such notion," replied Jo, dancing about the room to take the
-first stiffness off the new army-slippers.
-
-"How nice my handkerchiefs look, don't they? Hannah washed and ironed
-them for me, and I marked them all myself," said Beth, looking proudly
-at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labor.
-
-"Bless the child! she's gone and put 'Mother' on them instead of 'M.
-March.' How funny!" cried Jo, taking up one.
-
-"Isn't it right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg's
-initials are 'M. M.,' and I don't want any one to use these but Marmee,"
-said Beth, looking troubled.
-
-"It's all right, dear, and a very pretty idea,--quite sensible, too, for
-no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, I know," said
-Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.
-
-"There's mother. Hide the basket, quick!" cried Jo, as a door slammed,
-and steps sounded in the hall.
-
-Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters
-all waiting for her.
-
-"Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?" asked Meg,
-surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so
-early.
-
-"Don't laugh at me, Jo! I didn't mean any one should know till the time
-came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave
-_all_ my money to get it, and I'm truly trying not to be selfish any
-more."
-
-As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap
-one; and looked so earnest and humble in her little effort to forget
-herself that Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jo pronounced her "a
-trump," while Beth ran to the window, and picked her finest rose to
-ornament the stately bottle.
-
-"You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about
-being good this morning, so I ran round the corner and changed it the
-minute I was up: and I'm _so_ glad, for mine is the handsomest now."
-
-Another bang of the street-door sent the basket under the sofa, and the
-girls to the table, eager for breakfast.
-
-"Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books; we read
-some, and mean to every day," they cried, in chorus.
-
-"Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope
-you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far
-away from here lies a poor woman with a little new-born baby. Six
-children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have
-no fire. There is nothing to eat over there; and the oldest boy came to
-tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give
-them your breakfast as a Christmas present?"
-
-They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a
-minute no one spoke; only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously,--
-
-"I'm so glad you came before we began!"
-
-"May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?" asked
-Beth, eagerly.
-
-"_I_ shall take the cream and the muffins," added Amy, heroically giving
-up the articles she most liked.
-
-Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one
-big plate.
-
-"I thought you'd do it," said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. "You
-shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and
-milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinner-time."
-
-They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was
-early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw them, and
-no one laughed at the queer party.
-
-                 [Illustration: The procession set out]
-
-A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire,
-ragged bed-clothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale,
-hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm.
-
-How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in!
-
-"Ach, mein Gott! it is good angels come to us!" said the poor woman,
-crying for joy.
-
-"Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them laughing.
-
-In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work
-there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the
-broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother
-tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she
-dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The
-girls, meantime, spread the table, set the children round the fire, and
-fed them like so many hungry birds,--laughing, talking, and trying to
-understand the funny broken English.
-
-"Das ist gut!" "Die Engel-kinder!" cried the poor things, as they ate,
-and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze.
-
-The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it
-very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a "Sancho" ever
-since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast, though they didn't
-get any of it; and when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think
-there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry
-little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves
-with bread and milk on Christmas morning.
-
-"That's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it," said
-Meg, as they set out their presents, while their mother was upstairs
-collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.
-
-Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of love done up in
-the few little bundles; and the tall vase of red roses, white
-chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave
-quite an elegant air to the table.
-
-"She's coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for
-Marmee!" cried Jo, prancing about, while Meg went to conduct mother to
-the seat of honor.
-
-Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and Meg enacted
-escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched;
-and smiled with her eyes full as she examined her presents, and read the
-little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a new
-handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy's
-cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were
-pronounced a "perfect fit."
-
-There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the
-simple, loving fashion which makes these home-festivals so pleasant at
-the time, so sweet to remember long afterward, and then all fell to
-work.
-
-The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of
-the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities. Being
-still too young to go often to the theatre, and not rich enough to
-afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their
-wits to work, and--necessity being the mother of invention,--made
-whatever they needed. Very clever were some of their
-productions,--pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned
-butter-boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton,
-glittering with tin spangles from a pickle factory, and armor covered
-with the same useful diamond-shaped bits, left in sheets when the lids
-of tin preserve-pots were cut out. The furniture was used to being
-turned topsy-turvy, and the big chamber was the scene of many innocent
-revels.
-
-No gentlemen were admitted; so Jo played male parts to her heart's
-content, and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet-leather boots
-given her by a friend, who knew a lady who knew an actor. These boots,
-an old foil, and a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some
-picture, were Jo's chief treasures, and appeared on all occasions. The
-smallness of the company made it necessary for the two principal actors
-to take several parts apiece; and they certainly deserved some credit
-for the hard work they did in learning three or four different parts,
-whisking in and out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides.
-It was excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, and
-employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or
-spent in less profitable society.
-
-On Christmas night, a dozen girls piled on to the bed which was the
-dress-circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a
-most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling
-and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp-smoke, and an
-occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the
-excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew
-apart, and the Operatic Tragedy began.
-
-"A gloomy wood," according to the one play-bill, was represented by a
-few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor, and a cave in the
-distance. This cave was made with a clothes-horse for a roof, bureaus
-for walls; and in it was a small furnace in full blast, with a black pot
-on it, and an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark, and the
-glow of the furnace had a fine effect, especially as real steam issued
-from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed
-for the first thrill to subside; then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with
-a clanking sword at his side, a slouched hat, black beard, mysterious
-cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he
-struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain, singing of his
-hatred to Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to
-kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, with an
-occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, were very impressive,
-and the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with
-the air of one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern, and
-ordered Hagar to come forth with a commanding "What ho, minion! I need
-thee!"
-
-[Illustration: Out came Meg with gray horse-hair hanging about her face]
-
-Out came Meg, with gray horse-hair hanging about her face, a red and
-black robe, a staff, and cabalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded
-a potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in
-a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up the
-spirit who would bring the love philter:--
-
-        "Hither, hither, from thy home,
-         Airy sprite, I bid thee come!
-         Born of roses, fed on dew,
-         Charms and potions canst thou brew?
-         Bring me here, with elfin speed,
-         The fragrant philter which I need;
-         Make it sweet and swift and strong,
-         Spirit, answer now my song!"
-
-            [Illustration: A little figure in cloudy white]
-
-A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave
-appeared a little figure in cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden
-hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Waving a wand, it sang,--
-
-         "Hither I come,
-          From my airy home,
-        Afar in the silver moon.
-          Take the magic spell,
-          And use it well,
-        Or its power will vanish soon!"
-
-And, dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch's feet, the spirit
-vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition,--not a
-lovely one; for, with a bang, an ugly black imp appeared, and, having
-croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo, and disappeared with a
-mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his
-boots, Hugo departed; and Hagar informed the audience that, as he had
-killed a few of her friends in times past, she has cursed him, and
-intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain
-fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits
-of the play.
-
-A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again; but when
-it became evident what a masterpiece of stage-carpentering had been got
-up, no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb! A tower rose to
-the ceiling; half-way up appeared a window, with a lamp burning at it,
-and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver
-dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap,
-red cloak, chestnut love-locks, a guitar, and the boots, of course.
-Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones.
-Zara replied, and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came
-the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced a rope-ladder, with five
-steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she
-crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoulder, and was
-about to leap gracefully down, when, "Alas! alas for Zara!" she forgot
-her train,--it caught in the window; the tower tottered, leaned forward,
-fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins!
-
-A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the
-wreck, and a golden head emerged, exclaiming, "I told you so! I told you
-so!" With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed
-in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty aside,--
-
-"Don't laugh! Act as if it was all right!"--and, ordering Roderigo up,
-banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly
-shaken by the fall of the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old
-gentleman, and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara: she
-also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons
-of the castle. A stout little retainer came in with chains, and led them
-away, looking very much frightened, and evidently forgetting the speech
-he ought to have made.
-
-Act third was the castle hall; and here Hagar appeared, having come to
-free the lovers and finish Hugo. She hears him coming, and hides; sees
-him put the potions into two cups of wine, and bid the timid little
-servant "Bear them to the captives in their cells, and tell them I shall
-come anon." The servant takes Hugo aside to tell him something, and
-Hagar changes the cups for two others which are harmless. Ferdinando,
-the "minion," carries them away, and Hagar puts back the cup which holds
-the poison meant for Roderigo. Hugo, getting thirsty after a long
-warble, drinks it, loses his wits, and, after a good deal of clutching
-and stamping, falls flat and dies; while Hagar informs him what she has
-done in a song of exquisite power and melody.
-
-This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought
-that the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long hair rather marred
-the effect of the villain's death. He was called before the curtain, and
-with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing was
-considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put
-together.
-
-Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing
-himself, because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as
-the dagger is at his heart, a lovely song is sung under his window,
-informing him that Zara is true, but in danger, and he can save her, if
-he will. A key is thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in a spasm of
-rapture he tears off his chains, and rushes away to find and rescue his
-lady-love.
-
-Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He
-wishes her to go into a convent, but she won't hear of it; and, after a
-touching appeal, is about to faint, when Roderigo dashes in and demands
-her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and
-gesticulate tremendously, but cannot agree, and Roderigo is about to
-bear away the exhausted Zara, when the timid servant enters with a
-letter and a bag from Hagar, who has mysteriously disappeared. The
-latter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth to the young
-pair, and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he doesn't make them happy. The
-bag is opened, and several quarts of tin money shower down upon the
-stage, till it is quite glorified with the glitter. This entirely
-softens the "stern sire": he consents without a murmur, all join in a
-joyful chorus, and the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive
-Don Pedro's blessing in attitudes of the most romantic grace.
-
-  [Illustration: The lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing]
-
-Tumultuous applause followed, but received an unexpected check; for the
-cot-bed, on which the "dress-circle" was built, suddenly shut up, and
-extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to
-the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though many were speechless
-with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided, when Hannah appeared,
-with "Mrs. March's compliments, and would the ladies walk down to
-supper."
-
-This was a surprise, even to the actors; and, when they saw the table,
-they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It was like Marmee to
-get up a little treat for them; but anything so fine as this was
-unheard-of since the departed days of plenty. There was
-ice-cream,--actually two dishes of it, pink and white,--and cake and
-fruit and distracting French bonbons, and, in the middle of the table,
-four great bouquets of hot-house flowers!
-
-It quite took their breath away; and they stared first at the table and
-then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely.
-
-"Is it fairies?" asked Amy,
-
-"It's Santa Claus," said Beth.
-
-"Mother did it"; and Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray beard
-and white eyebrows.
-
-"Aunt March had a good fit, and sent the supper," cried Jo, with a
-sudden inspiration.
-
-"All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it," replied Mrs. March.
-
-"The Laurence boy's grandfather! What in the world put such a thing into
-his head? We don't know him!" exclaimed Meg.
-
-"Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party. He is an
-odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my father, years ago;
-and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would
-allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending
-them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse; and so you
-have a little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk
-breakfast."
-
-"That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He's a capital fellow,
-and I wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if he'd like to know us;
-but he's bashful, and Meg is so prim she won't let me speak to him when
-we pass," said Jo, as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt
-out of sight, with "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" of satisfaction.
-
-"You mean the people who live in the big house next door, don't you?"
-asked one of the girls. "My mother knows old Mr. Laurence; but says he's
-very proud, and doesn't like to mix with his neighbors. He keeps his
-grandson shut up, when he isn't riding or walking with his tutor, and
-makes him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he didn't
-come. Mother says he's very nice, though he never speaks to us girls."
-
-"Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the
-fence, and were getting on capitally,--all about cricket, and so
-on,--when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. I mean to know him some
-day; for he needs fun, I'm sure he does," said Jo decidedly.
-
-                [Illustration: We talked over the fence]
-
-"I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman; so I've no
-objection to your knowing him, if a proper opportunity comes. He brought
-the flowers himself; and I should have asked him in, if I had been sure
-what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away,
-hearing the frolic, and evidently having none of his own."
-
-"It's a mercy you didn't, mother!" laughed Jo, looking at her boots.
-"But we'll have another play, some time, that he _can_ see. Perhaps
-he'll help act; wouldn't that be jolly?"
-
-"I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!" And Meg
-examined her flowers with great interest.
-
-"They _are_ lovely! But Beth's roses are sweeter to me," said Mrs.
-March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt.
-
-Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, "I wish I could send my
-bunch to father. I'm afraid he isn't having such a merry Christmas as we
-are."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-  [Illustration: Eating apples and crying over the "Heir of Redclyffe"]
-
-                                  III.
-
-                           THE LAURENCE BOY.
-
-
-"Jo! Jo! where are you?" cried Meg, at the foot of the garret stairs.
-
-"Here!" answered a husky voice from above; and, running up, Meg found
-her sister eating apples and crying over the "Heir of Redclyffe,"
-wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny
-window. This was Jo's favorite refuge; and here she loved to retire with
-half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society
-of a pet rat who lived near by, and didn't mind her a particle. As Meg
-appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her
-cheeks, and waited to hear the news.
-
-"Such fun! only see! a regular note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for
-to-morrow night!" cried Meg, waving the precious paper, and then
-proceeding to read it, with girlish delight.
-
-"'Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a
-little dance on New-Year's Eve.' Marmee is willing we should go; now
-what _shall_ we wear?"
-
-"What's the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins,
-because we haven't got anything else?" answered Jo, with her mouth full.
-
-"If I only had a silk!" sighed Meg. "Mother says I may when I'm
-eighteen, perhaps; but two years is an everlasting time to wait."
-
-"I'm sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us.
-Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn and the tear in mine.
-Whatever shall I do? the burn shows badly, and I can't take any out."
-
-"You must sit still all you can, and keep your back out of sight; the
-front is all right. I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, and Marmee
-will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and
-my gloves will do, though they aren't as nice as I'd like."
-
-"Mine are spoilt with lemonade, and I can't get any new ones, so I shall
-have to go without," said Jo, who never troubled herself much about
-dress.
-
-"You _must_ have gloves, or I won't go," cried Meg decidedly. "Gloves
-are more important than anything else; you can't dance without them, and
-if you don't I should be _so_ mortified."
-
-"Then I'll stay still. I don't care much for company dancing; it's no
-fun to go sailing round; I like to fly about and cut capers."
-
-"You can't ask mother for new ones, they are so expensive, and you are
-so careless. She said, when you spoilt the others, that she shouldn't
-get you any more this winter. Can't you make them do?" asked Meg
-anxiously.
-
-"I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will know how stained
-they are; that's all I can do. No! I'll tell you how we can manage--each
-wear one good one and carry a bad one; don't you see?"
-
-"Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glove
-dreadfully," began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her.
-
-"Then I'll go without. I don't care what people say!" cried Jo, taking
-up her book.
-
-"You may have it, you may! only don't stain it, and do behave nicely.
-Don't put your hands behind you, or stare, or say 'Christopher
-Columbus!' will you?"
-
-"Don't worry about me; I'll be as prim as I can, and not get into any
-scrapes, if I can help it. Now go and answer your note, and let me
-finish this splendid story."
-
-So Meg went away to "accept with thanks," look over her dress, and sing
-blithely as she did up her one real lace frill; while Jo finished her
-story, her four apples, and had a game of romps with Scrabble.
-
-On New-Year's Eve the parlor was deserted, for the two younger girls
-played dressing-maids, and the two elder were absorbed in the
-all-important business of "getting ready for the party." Simple as the
-toilets were, there was a great deal of running up and down, laughing
-and talking, and at one time a strong smell of burnt hair pervaded the
-house. Meg wanted a few curls about her face, and Jo undertook to pinch
-the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs.
-
-        [Illustration: Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks]
-
-"Ought they to smoke like that?" asked Beth, from her perch on the bed.
-
-"It's the dampness drying," replied Jo.
-
-"What a queer smell! it's like burnt feathers," observed Amy, smoothing
-her own pretty curls with a superior air.
-
-"There, now I'll take off the papers and you'll see a cloud of little
-ringlets," said Jo, putting down the tongs.
-
-She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared, for the
-hair came with the papers, and the horrified hair-dresser laid a row of
-little scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim.
-
-"Oh, oh, oh! what _have_ you done? I'm spoilt! I can't go! My hair, oh,
-my hair!" wailed Meg, looking with despair at the uneven frizzle on her
-forehead.
-
-"Just my luck! you shouldn't have asked me to do it; I always spoil
-everything. I'm so sorry, but the tongs were too hot, and so I've made a
-mess," groaned poor Jo, regarding the black pancakes with tears of
-regret.
-
-"It isn't spoilt; just frizzle it, and tie your ribbon so the ends come
-on your forehead a bit, and it will look like the last fashion. I've
-seen many girls do it so," said Amy consolingly.
-
-"Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I'd let my hair alone,"
-cried Meg petulantly.
-
-"So do I, it was so smooth and pretty. But it will soon grow out again,"
-said Beth, coming to kiss and comfort the shorn sheep.
-
-After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the
-united exertions of the family Jo's hair was got up and her dress on.
-They looked very well in their simple suits,--Meg in silvery drab, with
-a blue velvet snood, lace frills, and the pearl pin; Jo in maroon, with
-a stiff, gentlemanly linen collar, and a white chrysanthemum or two for
-her only ornament. Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one
-soiled one, and all pronounced the effect "quite easy and fine." Meg's
-high-heeled slippers were very tight, and hurt her, though she would not
-own it, and Jo's nineteen hair-pins all seemed stuck straight into her
-head, which was not exactly comfortable; but, dear me, let us be elegant
-or die!
-
-"Have a good time, dearies!" said Mrs. March, as the sisters went
-daintily down the walk. "Don't eat much supper, and come away at eleven,
-when I send Hannah for you." As the gate clashed behind them, a voice
-cried from a window,--
-
-"Girls, girls! _have_ you both got nice pocket-handkerchiefs?"
-
-"Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers," cried Jo, adding,
-with a laugh, as they went on, "I do believe Marmee would ask that if we
-were all running away from an earthquake."
-
-"It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a real lady
-is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief," replied Meg,
-who had a good many little "aristocratic tastes" of her own.
-
-"Now don't forget to keep the bad breadth out of sight, Jo. Is my sash
-right? and does my hair look _very_ bad?" said Meg, as she turned from
-the glass in Mrs. Gardiner's dressing-room, after a prolonged prink.
-
-"I know I shall forget. If you see me doing anything wrong, just remind
-me by a wink, will you?" returned Jo, giving her collar a twitch and her
-head a hasty brush.
-
-"No, winking isn't lady-like; I'll lift my eyebrows if anything is
-wrong, and nod if you are all right. Now hold your shoulders straight,
-and take short steps, and don't shake hands if you are introduced to any
-one: it isn't the thing."
-
-"How _do_ you learn all the proper ways? I never can. Isn't that music
-gay?"
-
-             [Illustration: Mrs. Gardiner greeted them]
-
-Down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they seldom went to parties,
-and, informal as this little gathering was, it was an event to them.
-Mrs. Gardiner, a stately old lady, greeted them kindly, and handed them
-over to the eldest of her six daughters. Meg knew Sallie, and was at her
-ease very soon; but Jo, who didn't care much for girls or girlish
-gossip, stood about, with her back carefully against the wall, and felt
-as much out of place as a colt in a flower-garden. Half a dozen jovial
-lads were talking about skates in another part of the room, and she
-longed to go and join them, for skating was one of the joys of her life.
-She telegraphed her wish to Meg, but the eyebrows went up so alarmingly
-that she dared not stir. No one came to talk to her, and one by one the
-group near her dwindled away, till she was left alone. She could not
-roam about and amuse herself, for the burnt breadth would show, so she
-stared at people rather forlornly till the dancing began. Meg was asked
-at once, and the tight slippers tripped about so briskly that none would
-have guessed the pain their wearer suffered smilingly. Jo saw a big
-red-headed youth approaching her corner, and fearing he meant to engage
-her, she slipped into a curtained recess, intending to peep and enjoy
-herself in peace. Unfortunately, another bashful person had chosen the
-same refuge; for, as the curtain fell behind her, she found herself face
-to face with the "Laurence boy."
-
-           [Illustration: Face to face with the Laurence boy]
-
-"Dear me, I didn't know any one was here!" stammered Jo, preparing to
-back out as speedily as she had bounced in.
-
-But the boy laughed, and said pleasantly, though he looked a little
-startled,--
-
-"Don't mind me; stay, if you like."
-
-"Sha'n't I disturb you?"
-
-"Not a bit; I only came here because I don't know many people, and felt
-rather strange at first, you know."
-
-"So did I. Don't go away, please, unless you'd rather."
-
-The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps, till Jo said, trying to
-be polite and easy,--
-
-"I think I've had the pleasure of seeing you before; you live near us,
-don't you?"
-
-"Next door"; and he looked up and laughed outright, for Jo's prim manner
-was rather funny when he remembered how they had chatted about cricket
-when he brought the cat home.
-
-That put Jo at her ease; and she laughed too, as she said, in her
-heartiest way,--
-
-"We did have such a good time over your nice Christmas present."
-
-"Grandpa sent it."
-
-"But you put it into his head, didn't you, now?"
-
-"How is your cat, Miss March?" asked the boy, trying to look sober,
-while his black eyes shone with fun.
-
-"Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence; but I am not Miss March, I'm only Jo,"
-returned the young lady.
-
-"I'm not Mr. Laurence, I'm only Laurie."
-
-"Laurie Laurence,--what an odd name!"
-
-"My first name is Theodore, but I don't like it, for the fellows called
-me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead."
-
-"I hate my name, too--so sentimental! I wish every one would say Jo,
-instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora?"
-
-"I thrashed 'em."
-
-"I can't thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bear it"; and
-Jo resigned herself with a sigh.
-
-"Don't you like to dance, Miss Jo?" asked Laurie, looking as if he
-thought the name suited her.
-
-"I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and every one is
-lively. In a place like this I'm sure to upset something, tread on
-people's toes, or do something dreadful, so I keep out of mischief, and
-let Meg sail about. Don't you dance?"
-
-"Sometimes; you see I've been abroad a good many years, and haven't been
-into company enough yet to know how you do things here."
-
-"Abroad!" cried Jo. "Oh, tell me about it! I love dearly to hear people
-describe their travels."
-
-Laurie didn't seem to know where to begin; but Jo's eager questions soon
-set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vevay, where
-the boys never wore hats, and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for
-holiday fun went walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.
-
-"Don't I wish I'd been there!" cried Jo. "Did you go to Paris?"
-
-"We spent last winter there."
-
-"Can you talk French?"
-
-"We were not allowed to speak any thing else at Vevay."
-
-"Do say some! I can read it, but can't pronounce."
-
-"Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?" said Laurie
-good-naturedly.
-
-"How nicely you do it! Let me see,--you said, 'Who is the young lady in
-the pretty slippers,' didn't you?"
-
-"Oui, mademoiselle."
-
-"It's my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is
-pretty?"
-
-"Yes; she makes me think of the German girls, she looks so fresh and
-quiet, and dances like a lady."
-
-Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, and
-stored it up to repeat to Meg. Both peeped and criticised and chatted,
-till they felt like old acquaintances. Laurie's bashfulness soon wore
-off; for Jo's gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him at his ease, and
-Jo was her merry self again, because her dress was forgotten, and nobody
-lifted their eyebrows at her. She liked the "Laurence boy" better than
-ever, and took several good looks at him, so that she might describe him
-to the girls; for they had no brothers, very few male cousins, and boys
-were almost unknown creatures to them.
-
-"Curly black hair; brown skin; big, black eyes; handsome nose; fine
-teeth; small hands and feet; taller than I am; very polite, for a boy,
-and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is?"
-
-It was on the tip of Jo's tongue to ask; but she checked herself in
-time, and, with unusual tact, tried to find out in a roundabout way.
-
-"I suppose you are going to college soon? I see you pegging away at your
-books,--no, I mean studying hard"; and Jo blushed at the dreadful
-"pegging" which had escaped her.
-
-Laurie smiled, but didn't seem shocked, and answered, with a shrug,--
-
-"Not for a year or two; I won't go before seventeen, anyway."
-
-"Aren't you but fifteen?" asked Jo, looking at the tall lad, whom she
-had imagined seventeen already.
-
-"Sixteen, next month."
-
-"How I wish I was going to college! You don't look as if you liked it."
-
-"I hate it! Nothing but grinding or skylarking. And I don't like the way
-fellows do either, in this country."
-
-"What do you like?"
-
-"To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way."
-
-Jo wanted very much to ask what his own way was; but his black brows
-looked rather threatening as he knit them; so she changed the subject by
-saying, as her foot kept time, "That's a splendid polka! Why don't you
-go and try it?"
-
-"If you will come too," he answered, with a gallant little bow.
-
-"I can't; for I told Meg I wouldn't, because--" There Jo stopped, and
-looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh.
-
-"Because what?" asked Laurie curiously.
-
-"You won't tell?"
-
-"Never!"
-
-"Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire, and so I burn my
-frocks, and I scorched this one; and, though it's nicely mended, it
-shows, and Meg told me to keep still, so no one would see it. You may
-laugh, if you want to; it is funny, I know."
-
-But Laurie didn't laugh; he only looked down a minute, and the
-expression of his face puzzled Jo, when he said very gently,--
-
-"Never mind that; I'll tell you how we can manage: there's a long hall
-out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us. Please
-come?"
-
-Jo thanked him, and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloves, when
-she saw the nice, pearl-colored ones her partner wore. The hall was
-empty, and they had a grand polka; for Laurie danced well, and taught
-her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full of swing and spring.
-When the music stopped, they sat down on the stairs to get their breath;
-and Laurie was in the midst of an account of a students' festival at
-Heidelberg, when Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned, and
-Jo reluctantly followed her into a side-room, where she found her on a
-sofa, holding her foot, and looking pale.
-
-              [Illustration: They sat down on the stairs]
-
-"I've sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel turned, and gave me a sad
-wrench. It aches so, I can hardly stand, and I don't know how I'm ever
-going to get home," she said, rocking to and fro in pain.
-
-"I knew you'd hurt your feet with those silly shoes. I'm sorry. But I
-don't see what you can do, except get a carriage, or stay here all
-night," answered Jo, softly rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke.
-
-"I can't have a carriage, without its costing ever so much. I dare say I
-can't get one at all; for most people come in their own, and it's a long
-way to the stable, and no one to send."
-
-"I'll go."
-
-"No, indeed! It's past nine, and dark as Egypt. I can't stop here, for
-the house is full. Sallie has some girls staying with her. I'll rest
-till Hannah comes, and then do the best I can."
-
-"I'll ask Laurie; he will go," said Jo, looking relieved as the idea
-occurred to her.
-
-"Mercy, no! Don't ask or tell any one. Get me my rubbers, and put these
-slippers with our things. I can't dance any more; but as soon as supper
-is over, watch for Hannah, and tell me the minute she comes."
-
-"They are going out to supper now. I'll stay with you; I'd rather."
-
-"No, dear, run along, and bring me some coffee. I'm so tired, I can't
-stir!"
-
-So Meg reclined, with rubbers well hidden, and Jo went blundering away
-to the dining-room, which she found after going into a china-closet, and
-opening the door of a room where old Mr. Gardiner was taking a little
-private refreshment. Making a dart at the table, she secured the coffee,
-which she immediately spilt, thereby making the front of her dress as
-bad as the back.
-
-"Oh, dear, what a blunderbuss I am!" exclaimed Jo, finishing Meg's glove
-by scrubbing her gown with it.
-
-"Can I help you?" said a friendly voice; and there was Laurie, with a
-full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in the other.
-
-"I was trying to get something for Meg, who is very tired, and some one
-shook me; and here I am, in a nice state," answered Jo, glancing
-dismally from the stained skirt to the coffee-colored glove.
-
-"Too bad! I was looking for some one to give this to. May I take it to
-your sister?"
-
-"Oh, thank you! I'll show you where she is. I don't offer to take it
-myself, for I should only get into another scrape if I did."
-
-Jo led the way; and, as if used to waiting on ladies, Laurie drew up a
-little table, brought a second instalment of coffee and ice for Jo, and
-was so obliging that even particular Meg pronounced him a "nice boy."
-They had a merry time over the bonbons and mottoes, and were in the
-midst of a quiet game of "Buzz," with two or three other young people
-who had strayed in, when Hannah appeared. Meg forgot her foot, and rose
-so quickly that she was forced to catch hold of Jo, with an exclamation
-of pain.
-
-"Hush! Don't say anything," she whispered, adding aloud, "It's nothing.
-I turned my foot a little, that's all"; and limped up-stairs to put her
-things on.
-
-Hannah scolded, Meg cried, and Jo was at her wits' end, till she
-decided to take things into her own hands. Slipping out, she ran down,
-and, finding a servant, asked if he could get her a carriage. It
-happened to be a hired waiter, who knew nothing about the neighborhood;
-and Jo was looking round for help, when Laurie, who had heard what she
-said, came up, and offered his grandfather's carriage, which had just
-come for him, he said.
-
-"It's so early! You can't mean to go yet?" began Jo, looking relieved,
-but hesitating to accept the offer.
-
-"I always go early,--I do, truly! Please let me take you home? It's all
-on my way, you know, and it rains, they say."
-
-That settled it; and, telling him of Meg's mishap, Jo gratefully
-accepted, and rushed up to bring down the rest of the party. Hannah
-hated rain as much as a cat does; so she made no trouble, and they
-rolled away in the luxurious close carriage, feeling very festive and
-elegant. Laurie went on the box; so Meg could keep her foot up, and the
-girls talked over their party in freedom.
-
-"I had a capital time. Did you?" asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, and
-making herself comfortable.
-
-"Yes, till I hurt myself. Sallie's friend, Annie Moffat, took a fancy to
-me, and asked me to come and spend a week with her, when Sallie does.
-She is going in the spring, when the opera comes; and it will be
-perfectly splendid, if mother only lets me go," answered Meg, cheering
-up at the thought.
-
-"I saw you dancing with the red-headed man I ran away from. Was he
-nice?"
-
-"Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red; and he was very polite, and I
-had a delicious redowa with him."
-
-"He looked like a grasshopper in a fit, when he did the new step. Laurie
-and I couldn't help laughing. Did you hear us?"
-
-"No; but it was very rude. What _were_ you about all that time, hidden
-away there?"
-
-Jo told her adventures, and, by the time she had finished, they were at
-home. With many thanks, they said "Good night," and crept in, hoping to
-disturb no one; but the instant their door creaked, two little
-night-caps bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cried out,--
-
-"Tell about the party! tell about the party!"
-
-With what Meg called "a great want of manners," Jo had saved some
-bonbons for the little girls; and they soon subsided, after hearing the
-most thrilling events of the evening.
-
-"I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady, to come home
-from the party in a carriage, and sit in my dressing-gown, with a maid
-to wait on me," said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot with arnica, and
-brushed her hair.
-
-"I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we
-do, in spite of our burnt hair, old gowns, one glove apiece, and tight
-slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them."
-And I think Jo was quite right.
-
-                  [Illustration: Tell about the party]
-
-
-
-
-     [Illustration: The kitten stuck like a burr just out of reach]
-
-                                  IV.
-
-                                BURDENS.
-
-
-"Oh dear, how hard it does seem to take up our packs and go on," sighed
-Meg, the morning after the party; for, now the holidays were over, the
-week of merry-making did not fit her for going on easily with the task
-she never liked.
-
-"I wish it was Christmas or New-Year all the time; wouldn't it be fun?"
-answered Jo, yawning dismally.
-
-"We shouldn't enjoy ourselves half so much as we do now. But it does
-seem so nice to have little suppers and bouquets, and go to parties, and
-drive home, and read and rest, and not work. It's like other people,
-you know, and I always envy girls who do such things; I'm so fond of
-luxury," said Meg, trying to decide which of two shabby gowns was the
-least shabby.
-
-"Well, we can't have it, so don't let us grumble, but shoulder our
-bundles and trudge along as cheerfully as Marmee does. I'm sure Aunt
-March is a regular Old Man of the Sea to me, but I suppose when I've
-learned to carry her without complaining, she will tumble off, or get so
-light that I sha'n't mind her."
-
-This idea tickled Jo's fancy, and put her in good spirits; but Meg
-didn't brighten, for her burden, consisting of four spoilt children,
-seemed heavier than ever. She hadn't heart enough even to make herself
-pretty, as usual, by putting on a blue neck-ribbon, and dressing her
-hair in the most becoming way.
-
-"Where's the use of looking nice, when no one sees me but those cross
-midgets, and no one cares whether I'm pretty or not?" she muttered,
-shutting her drawer with a jerk. "I shall have to toil and moil all my
-days, with only little bits of fun now and then, and get old and ugly
-and sour, because I'm poor, and can't enjoy my life as other girls do.
-It's a shame!"
-
-So Meg went down, wearing an injured look, and wasn't at all agreeable
-at breakfast-time. Every one seemed rather out of sorts, and inclined to
-croak. Beth had a headache, and lay on the sofa, trying to comfort
-herself with the cat and three kittens; Amy was fretting because her
-lessons were not learned, and she couldn't find her rubbers; Jo _would_
-whistle and make a great racket getting ready; Mrs. March was very busy
-trying to finish a letter, which must go at once; and Hannah had the
-grumps, for being up late didn't suit her.
-
-"There never _was_ such a cross family!" cried Jo, losing her temper
-when she had upset an inkstand, broken both boot-lacings, and sat down
-upon her hat.
-
-"You're the crossest person in it!" returned Amy, washing out the sum,
-that was all wrong, with the tears that had fallen on her slate.
-
-"Beth, if you don't keep these horrid cats down cellar I'll have them
-drowned," exclaimed Meg angrily, as she tried to get rid of the kitten,
-which had scrambled up her back, and stuck like a burr just out of
-reach.
-
-Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, and Amy wailed, because she
-couldn't remember how much nine times twelve was.
-
-"Girls, girls, do be quiet one minute! I _must_ get this off by the
-early mail, and you drive me distracted with your worry," cried Mrs.
-March, crossing out the third spoilt sentence in her letter.
-
-There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who stalked in, laid two
-hot turn-overs on the table, and stalked out again. These turn-overs
-were an institution; and the girls called them "muffs," for they had no
-others, and found the hot pies very comforting to their hands on cold
-mornings. Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how busy or grumpy
-she might be, for the walk was long and bleak; the poor things got no
-other lunch, and were seldom home before two.
-
-"Cuddle your cats, and get over your headache, Bethy. Good-by, Marmee;
-we are a set of rascals this morning, but we'll come home regular
-angels. Now then, Meg!" and Jo tramped away, feeling that the pilgrims
-were not setting out as they ought to do.
-
-They always looked back before turning the corner, for their mother was
-always at the window, to nod and smile, and wave her hand to them.
-Somehow it seemed as if they couldn't have got through the day without
-that; for, whatever their mood might be, the last glimpse of that
-motherly face was sure to affect them like sunshine.
-
-"If Marmee shook her fist instead of kissing her hand to us, it would
-serve us right, for more ungrateful wretches than we are were never
-seen," cried Jo, taking a remorseful satisfaction in the snowy walk and
-bitter wind.
-
-"Don't use such dreadful expressions," said Meg, from the depths of the
-vail in which she had shrouded herself like a nun sick of the world.
-
-"I like good strong words, that mean something," replied Jo, catching
-her hat as it took a leap off her head, preparatory to flying away
-altogether.
-
-"Call yourself any names you like; but _I_ am neither a rascal nor a
-wretch, and I don't choose to be called so."
-
-"You're a blighted being, and decidedly cross to-day because you can't
-sit in the lap of luxury all the time. Poor dear, just wait till I make
-my fortune, and you shall revel in carriages and ice-cream and
-high-heeled slippers and posies and red-headed boys to dance with."
-
-"How ridiculous you are, Jo!" but Meg laughed at the nonsense, and felt
-better in spite of herself.
-
-"Lucky for you I am; for if I put on crushed airs, and tried to be
-dismal, as you do, we should be in a nice state. Thank goodness, I can
-always find something funny to keep me up. Don't croak any more, but
-come home jolly, there's a dear."
-
-Jo gave her sister an encouraging pat on the shoulder as they parted for
-the day, each going a different way, each hugging her little warm
-turn-over, and each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry weather,
-hard work, and the unsatisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth.
-
-When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help an unfortunate
-friend, the two oldest girls begged to be allowed to do something toward
-their own support, at least. Believing that they could not begin too
-early to cultivate energy, industry, and independence, their parents
-consented, and both fell to work with the hearty good-will which in
-spite of all obstacles, is sure to succeed at last. Margaret found a
-place as nursery governess, and felt rich with her small salary. As she
-said, she _was_ "fond of luxury," and her chief trouble was poverty. She
-found it harder to bear than the others, because she could remember a
-time when home was beautiful, life full of ease and pleasure, and want
-of any kind unknown. She tried not to be envious or discontented, but it
-was very natural that the young girl should long for pretty things, gay
-friends, accomplishments, and a happy life. At the Kings' she daily saw
-all she wanted, for the children's older sisters were just out, and Meg
-caught frequent glimpses of dainty ball-dresses and bouquets, heard
-lively gossip about theatres, concerts, sleighing parties, and
-merry-makings of all kinds, and saw money lavished on trifles which
-would have been so precious to her. Poor Meg seldom complained, but a
-sense of injustice made her feel bitter toward every one sometimes, for
-she had not yet learned to know how rich she was in the blessings which
-alone can make life happy.
-
-Jo happened to suit Aunt March, who was lame, and needed an active
-person to wait upon her. The childless old lady had offered to adopt one
-of the girls when the troubles came, and was much offended because her
-offer was declined. Other friends told the Marches that they had lost
-all chance of being remembered in the rich old lady's will; but the
-unworldly Marches only said,--
-
-"We can't give up our girls for a dozen fortunes. Rich or poor, we will
-keep together and be happy in one another."
-
-The old lady wouldn't speak to them for a time, but happening to meet Jo
-at a friend's, something in her comical face and blunt manners struck
-the old lady's fancy, and she proposed to take her for a companion. This
-did not suit Jo at all; but she accepted the place since nothing better
-appeared, and, to every one's surprise, got on remarkably well with her
-irascible relative. There was an occasional tempest, and once Jo had
-marched home, declaring she couldn't bear it any longer; but Aunt March
-always cleared up quickly, and sent for her back again with such urgency
-that she could not refuse, for in her heart she rather liked the peppery
-old lady.
-
-I suspect that the real attraction was a large library of fine books,
-which was left to dust and spiders since Uncle March died. Jo remembered
-the kind old gentleman, who used to let her build railroads and bridges
-with his big dictionaries, tell her stories about the queer pictures in
-his Latin books, and buy her cards of gingerbread whenever he met her in
-the street. The dim, dusty room, with the busts staring down from the
-tall book-cases, the cosy chairs, the globes, and, best of all, the
-wilderness of books, in which she could wander where she liked, made the
-library a region of bliss to her. The moment Aunt March took her nap, or
-was busy with company, Jo hurried to this quiet place, and, curling
-herself up in the easy-chair, devoured poetry, romance, history,
-travels, and pictures, like a regular book-worm. But, like all
-happiness, it did not last long; for as sure as she had just reached the
-heart of the story, the sweetest verse of the song, or the most perilous
-adventure of her traveller, a shrill voice called, "Josy-phine!
-Josy-phine!" and she had to leave her paradise to wind yarn, wash the
-poodle, or read Belsham's Essays by the hour together.
-
-          [Illustration: Curling herself up in the big chair]
-
-Jo's ambition was to do something very splendid; what it was she had no
-idea, as yet, but left it for time to tell her; and, meanwhile, found
-her greatest affliction in the fact that she couldn't read, run, and
-ride as much as she liked. A quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless
-spirit were always getting her into scrapes, and her life was a series
-of ups and downs, which were both comic and pathetic. But the training
-she received at Aunt March's was just what she needed; and the thought
-that she was doing something to support herself made her happy, in spite
-of the perpetual "Josy-phine!"
-
-Beth was too bashful to go to school; it had been tried, but she
-suffered so much that it was given up, and she did her lessons at home,
-with her father. Even when he went away, and her mother was called to
-devote her skill and energy to Soldiers' Aid Societies, Beth went
-faithfully on by herself, and did the best she could. She was a
-housewifely little creature, and helped Hannah keep home neat and
-comfortable for the workers, never thinking of any reward but to be
-loved. Long, quiet days she spent, not lonely nor idle, for her little
-world was peopled with imaginary friends, and she was by nature a busy
-bee. There were six dolls to be taken up and dressed every morning, for
-Beth was a child still, and loved her pets as well as ever. Not one
-whole or handsome one among them; all were outcasts till Beth took them
-in; for, when her sisters outgrew these idols, they passed to her,
-because Amy would have nothing old or ugly. Beth cherished them all the
-more tenderly for that very reason, and set up a hospital for infirm
-dolls. No pins were ever stuck into their cotton vitals; no harsh words
-or blows were ever given them; no neglect ever saddened the heart of the
-most repulsive: but all were fed and clothed, nursed and caressed, with
-an affection which never failed. One forlorn fragment of _dollanity_ had
-belonged to Jo; and, having led a tempestuous life, was left a wreck in
-the rag-bag, from which dreary poorhouse it was rescued by Beth, and
-taken to her refuge. Having no top to its head, she tied on a neat
-little cap, and, as both arms and legs were gone, she hid these
-deficiencies by folding it in a blanket, and devoting her best bed to
-this chronic invalid. If any one had known the care lavished on that
-dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, even while they
-laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets; she read to it, took it out to
-breathe the air, hidden under her coat; she sung it lullabys, and never
-went to bed without kissing its dirty face, and whispering tenderly, "I
-hope you'll have a good night, my poor dear."
-
-Beth had her troubles as well as the others; and not being an angel, but
-a very human little girl, she often "wept a little weep," as Jo said,
-because she couldn't take music lessons and have a fine piano. She loved
-music so dearly, tried so hard to learn, and practised away so patiently
-at the jingling old instrument, that it did seem as if some one (not to
-hint Aunt March) ought to help her. Nobody did, however, and nobody saw
-Beth wipe the tears off the yellow keys, that wouldn't keep in tune,
-when she was all alone. She sang like a little lark about her work,
-never was too tired to play for Marmee and the girls, and day after day
-said hopefully to herself, "I know I'll get my music some time, if I'm
-good."
-
-There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners
-till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the
-sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the
-sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.
-
-If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she
-would have answered at once, "My nose." When she was a baby, Jo had
-accidentally dropped her into the coal-hod, and Amy insisted that the
-fall had ruined her nose forever. It was not big, nor red, like poor
-"Petrea's"; it was only rather flat, and all the pinching in the world
-could not give it an aristocratic point. No one minded it but herself,
-and it was doing its best to grow, but Amy felt deeply the want of a
-Grecian nose, and drew whole sheets of handsome ones to console herself.
-
-"Little Raphael," as her sisters called her, had a decided talent for
-drawing, and was never so happy as when copying flowers, designing
-fairies, or illustrating stories with queer specimens of art. Her
-teachers complained that, instead of doing her sums, she covered her
-slate with animals; the blank pages of her atlas were used to copy maps
-on; and caricatures of the most ludicrous description came fluttering
-out of all her books at unlucky moments. She got through her lessons as
-well as she could, and managed to escape reprimands by being a model of
-deportment. She was a great favorite with her mates, being
-good-tempered, and possessing the happy art of pleasing without effort.
-Her little airs and graces were much admired, so were her
-accomplishments; for beside her drawing, she could play twelve tunes,
-crochet, and read French without mispronouncing more than two thirds of
-the words. She had a plaintive way of saying, "When papa was rich we did
-so-and-so," which was very touching; and her long words were considered
-"perfectly elegant" by the girls.
-
-Amy was in a fair way to be spoilt; for every one petted her, and her
-small vanities and selfishnesses were growing nicely. One thing,
-however, rather quenched the vanities; she had to wear her cousin's
-clothes. Now Florence's mamma hadn't a particle of taste, and Amy
-suffered deeply at having to wear a red instead of a blue bonnet,
-unbecoming gowns, and fussy aprons that did not fit. Everything was
-good, well made, and little worn; but Amy's artistic eyes were much
-afflicted, especially this winter, when her school dress was a dull
-purple, with yellow dots, and no trimming.
-
-"My only comfort," she said to Meg, with tears in her eyes, "is, that
-mother don't take tucks in my dresses whenever I'm naughty, as Maria
-Parks' mother does. My dear, it's really dreadful; for sometimes she is
-so bad, her frock is up to her knees, and she can't come to school. When
-I think of this _deggerredation_, I feel that I can bear even my flat
-nose and purple gown, with yellow sky-rockets on it."
-
-Meg was Amy's confidant and monitor, and, by some strange attraction of
-opposites, Jo was gentle Beth's. To Jo alone did the shy child tell her
-thoughts; and over her big, harum-scarum sister, Beth unconsciously
-exercised more influence than any one in the family. The two older girls
-were a great deal to one another, but each took one of the younger into
-her keeping, and watched over her in her own way; "playing mother" they
-called it, and put their sisters in the places of discarded dolls, with
-the maternal instinct of little women.
-
-"Has anybody got anything to tell? It's been such a dismal day I'm
-really dying for some amusement," said Meg, as they sat sewing together
-that evening.
-
-"I had a queer time with aunt to-day, and, as I got the best of it, I'll
-tell you about it," began Jo, who dearly loved to tell stories. "I was
-reading that everlasting Belsham, and droning away as I always do, for
-aunt soon drops off, and then I take out some nice book, and read like
-fury till she wakes up. I actually made myself sleepy; and, before she
-began to nod, I gave such a gape that she asked me what I meant by
-opening my mouth wide enough to take the whole book in at once.
-
-            [Illustration: Reading that everlasting Belsham]
-
-"'I wish I could, and be done with it,' said I, trying not to be saucy.
-
-"Then she gave me a long lecture on my sins, and told me to sit and
-think them over while she just 'lost' herself for a moment. She never
-finds herself very soon; so the minute her cap began to bob, like a
-top-heavy dahlia, I whipped the 'Vicar of Wakefield' out of my pocket,
-and read away, with one eye on him, and one on aunt. I'd just got to
-where they all tumbled into the water, when I forgot, and laughed out
-loud. Aunt woke up; and, being more good-natured after her nap, told me
-to read a bit, and show what frivolous work I preferred to the worthy
-and instructive Belsham. I did my very best, and she liked it, though
-she only said,--
-
-"'I don't understand what it's all about. Go back and begin it, child.'
-
-"Back I went, and made the Primroses as interesting as ever I could.
-Once I was wicked enough to stop in a thrilling place, and say meekly,
-'I'm afraid it tires you, ma'am; sha'n't I stop now?'
-
-"She caught up her knitting, which had dropped out of her hands, gave me
-a sharp look through her specs, and said, in her short way,--
-
-"'Finish the chapter, and don't be impertinent, miss.'"
-
-"Did she own she liked it?" asked Meg.
-
-"Oh, bless you, no! but she let old Belsham rest; and, when I ran back
-after my gloves this afternoon, there she was, so hard at the Vicar that
-she didn't hear me laugh as I danced a jig in the hall, because of the
-good time coming. What a pleasant life she might have, if she only
-chose. I don't envy her much, in spite of her money, for after all rich
-people have about as many worries as poor ones, I think," added Jo.
-
-"That reminds me," said Meg, "that I've got something to tell. It isn't
-funny, like Jo's story, but I thought about it a good deal as I came
-home. At the Kings to-day I found everybody in a flurry, and one of the
-children said that her oldest brother had done something dreadful, and
-papa had sent him away. I heard Mrs. King crying and Mr. King talking
-very loud, and Grace and Ellen turned away their faces when they passed
-me, so I shouldn't see how red their eyes were. I didn't ask any
-questions, of course; but I felt so sorry for them, and was rather glad
-I hadn't any wild brothers to do wicked things and disgrace the family."
-
-"I think being disgraced in school is a great deal try_inger_ than
-anything bad boys can do," said Amy, shaking her head, as if her
-experience of life had been a deep one. "Susie Perkins came to school
-to-day with a lovely red carnelian ring; I wanted it dreadfully, and
-wished I was her with all my might. Well, she drew a picture of Mr.
-Davis, with a monstrous nose and a hump, and the words, 'Young ladies,
-my eye is upon you!' coming out of his mouth in a balloon thing. We were
-laughing over it, when all of a sudden his eye _was_ on us, and he
-ordered Susie to bring up her slate. She was _parry_lized with fright,
-but she went, and oh, what _do_ you think he did? He took her by the
-ear, the ear! just fancy how horrid!--and led her to the recitation
-platform, and made her stand there half an hour, holding that slate so
-every one could see."
-
-          [Illustration: He took her by the ear! by the ear!]
-
-"Didn't the girls laugh at the picture?" asked Jo, who relished the
-scrape.
-
-"Laugh? Not one! They sat as still as mice; and Susie cried quarts, I
-know she did. I didn't envy her then; for I felt that millions of
-carnelian rings wouldn't have made me happy, after that. I never, never
-should have got over such a agonizing mortification." And Amy went on
-with her work, in the proud consciousness of virtue, and the successful
-utterance of two long words in a breath.
-
-"I saw something that I liked this morning, and I meant to tell it at
-dinner, but I forgot," said Beth, putting Jo's topsy-turvy basket in
-order as she talked. "When I went to get some oysters for Hannah, Mr.
-Laurence was in the fish-shop; but he didn't see me, for I kept behind a
-barrel, and he was busy with Mr. Cutter, the fish-man. A poor woman came
-in, with a pail and a mop, and asked Mr. Cutter if he would let her do
-some scrubbing for a bit of fish, because she hadn't any dinner for her
-children, and had been disappointed of a day's work. Mr. Cutter was in a
-hurry, and said 'No,' rather crossly; so she was going away, looking
-hungry and sorry, when Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish with the
-crooked end of his cane, and held it out to her. She was so glad and
-surprised, she took it right in her arms, and thanked him over and over.
-He told her to 'go along and cook it,' and she hurried off, so happy!
-Wasn't it good of him? Oh, she did look so funny, hugging the big,
-slippery fish, and hoping Mr. Laurence's bed in heaven would be 'aisy.'"
-
-           [Illustration: Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish]
-
-When they had laughed at Beth's story, they asked their mother for one;
-and, after a moment's thought, she said soberly,--
-
-"As I sat cutting out blue flannel jackets to-day, at the rooms, I felt
-very anxious about father, and thought how lonely and helpless we should
-be, if anything happened to him. It was not a wise thing to do; but I
-kept on worrying, till an old man came in, with an order for some
-clothes. He sat down near me, and I began to talk to him; for he looked
-poor and tired and anxious.
-
-"'Have you sons in the army?' I asked; for the note he brought was not
-to me.
-
-"'Yes, ma'am. I had four, but two were killed, one is a prisoner, and
-I'm going to the other, who is very sick in a Washington hospital,' he
-answered quietly.
-
-"'You have done a great deal for your country, sir,' I said, feeling
-respect now, instead of pity.
-
-"'Not a mite more than I ought, ma'am. I'd go myself, if I was any use;
-as I ain't, I give my boys, and give 'em free.'
-
-"He spoke so cheerfully, looked so sincere, and seemed so glad to give
-his all, that I was ashamed of myself. I'd given one man, and thought it
-too much, while he gave four, without grudging them. I had all my girls
-to comfort me at home; and his last son was waiting, miles away, to say
-'good by' to him, perhaps! I felt so rich, so happy, thinking of my
-blessings, that I made him a nice bundle, gave him some money, and
-thanked him heartily for the lesson he had taught me."
-
-"Tell another story, mother,--one with a moral to it, like this. I like
-to think about them afterwards, if they are real, and not too preachy,"
-said Jo, after a minute's silence.
-
-Mrs. March smiled, and began at once; for she had told stories to this
-little audience for many years, and knew how to please them.
-
-"Once upon a time, there were four girls, who had enough to eat and
-drink and wear, a good many comforts and pleasures, kind friends and
-parents, who loved them dearly, and yet they were not contented." (Here
-the listeners stole sly looks at one another, and began to sew
-diligently.) "These girls were anxious to be good, and made many
-excellent resolutions; but they did not keep them very well, and were
-constantly saying, 'If we only had this,' or 'If we could only do that,'
-quite forgetting how much they already had, and how many pleasant things
-they actually could do. So they asked an old woman what spell they could
-use to make them happy, and she said, 'When you feel discontented, think
-over your blessings, and be grateful.'" (Here Jo looked up quickly, as
-if about to speak, but changed her mind, seeing that the story was not
-done yet.)
-
-"Being sensible girls, they decided to try her advice, and soon were
-surprised to see how well off they were. One discovered that money
-couldn't keep shame and sorrow out of rich people's houses; another
-that, though she was poor, she was a great deal happier, with her youth,
-health, and good spirits, than a certain fretful, feeble old lady, who
-couldn't enjoy her comforts; a third that, disagreeable as it was to
-help get dinner, it was harder still to have to go begging for it; and
-the fourth, that even carnelian rings were not so valuable as good
-behavior. So they agreed to stop complaining, to enjoy the blessings
-already possessed, and try to deserve them, lest they should be taken
-away entirely, instead of increased; and I believe they were never
-disappointed, or sorry that they took the old woman's advice."
-
-"Now, Marmee, that is very cunning of you to turn our own stories
-against us, and give us a sermon instead of a romance!" cried Meg.
-
-"I like that kind of sermon. It's the sort father used to tell us," said
-Beth thoughtfully, putting the needles straight on Jo's cushion.
-
-"I don't complain near as much as the others do, and I shall be more
-careful than ever now; for I've had warning from Susie's downfall," said
-Amy morally.
-
-"We needed that lesson, and we won't forget it. If we do, you just say
-to us, as old Chloe did in 'Uncle Tom,' 'Tink ob yer marcies, chillen!
-tink ob yer marcies!'" added Jo, who could not, for the life of her,
-help getting a morsel of fun out of the little sermon, though she took
-it to heart as much as any of them.
-
-                     [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                                   V.
-
-                           BEING NEIGHBORLY.
-
-
-                    [Illustration: Being neighborly]
-
-"What in the world are you going to do now, Jo?" asked Meg, one snowy
-afternoon, as her sister came tramping through the hall, in rubber
-boots, old sack and hood, with a broom in one hand and a shovel in the
-other.
-
-"Going out for exercise," answered Jo, with a mischievous twinkle in her
-eyes.
-
-"I should think two long walks this morning would have been enough! It's
-cold and dull out; and I advise you to stay, warm and dry, by the fire,
-as I do," said Meg, with a shiver.
-
-"Never take advice! Can't keep still all day, and, not being a pussycat,
-I don't like to doze by the fire. I like adventures, and I'm going to
-find some."
-
-Meg went back to toast her feet and read "Ivanhoe"; and Jo began to dig
-paths with great energy. The snow was light, and with her broom she soon
-swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to walk in when the sun came
-out; and the invalid dolls needed air. Now, the garden separated the
-Marches' house from that of Mr. Laurence. Both stood in a suburb of the
-city, which was still country-like, with groves and lawns, large
-gardens, and quiet streets. A low hedge parted the two estates. On one
-side was an old, brown house, looking rather bare and shabby, robbed of
-the vines that in summer covered its walls, and the flowers which then
-surrounded it. On the other side was a stately stone mansion, plainly
-betokening every sort of comfort and luxury, from the big coach-house
-and well-kept grounds to the conservatory and the glimpses of lovely
-things one caught between the rich curtains. Yet it seemed a lonely,
-lifeless sort of house; for no children frolicked on the lawn, no
-motherly face ever smiled at the windows, and few people went in and
-out, except the old gentleman and his grandson.
-
-To Jo's lively fancy, this fine house seemed a kind of enchanted palace,
-full of splendors and delights, which no one enjoyed. She had long
-wanted to behold these hidden glories, and to know the "Laurence boy,"
-who looked as if he would like to be known, if he only knew how to
-begin. Since the party, she had been more eager than ever, and had
-planned many ways of making friends with him; but he had not been seen
-lately, and Jo began to think he had gone away, when she one day spied a
-brown face at an upper window, looking wistfully down into their garden,
-where Beth and Amy were snow-balling one another.
-
-"That boy is suffering for society and fun," she said to herself. "His
-grandpa does not know what's good for him, and keeps him shut up all
-alone. He needs a party of jolly boys to play with, or somebody young
-and lively. I've a great mind to go over and tell the old gentleman so!"
-
-The idea amused Jo, who liked to do daring things, and was always
-scandalizing Meg by her queer performances. The plan of "going over" was
-not forgotten; and when the snowy afternoon came, Jo resolved to try
-what could be done. She saw Mr. Laurence drive off, and then sallied out
-to dig her way down to the hedge, where she paused, and took a survey.
-All quiet,--curtains down at the lower windows; servants out of sight,
-and nothing human visible but a curly black head leaning on a thin hand
-at the upper window.
-
-"There he is," thought Jo, "poor boy! all alone and sick this dismal
-day. It's a shame! I'll toss up a snow-ball, and make him look out, and
-then say a kind word to him."
-
-Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a
-face which lost its listless look in a minute, as the big eyes
-brightened and the mouth began to smile. Jo nodded and laughed, and
-flourished her broom as she called out,--
-
-"How do you do? Are you sick?"
-
-                [Illustration: Laurie opened the window]
-
-Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven,--
-
-"Better, thank you. I've had a bad cold, and been shut up a week."
-
-"I'm sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?"
-
-"Nothing; it's as dull as tombs up here."
-
-"Don't you read?"
-
-"Not much; they won't let me."
-
-"Can't somebody read to you?"
-
-"Grandpa does, sometimes; but my books don't interest him, and I hate to
-ask Brooke all the time."
-
-"Have some one come and see you, then."
-
-"There isn't any one I'd like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head
-is weak."
-
-"Isn't there some nice girl who'd read and amuse you? Girls are quiet,
-and like to play nurse."
-
-"Don't know any."
-
-"You know us," began Jo, then laughed, and stopped.
-
-"So I do! Will you come, please?" cried Laurie.
-
-"I'm not quiet and nice; but I'll come, if mother will let me. I'll go
-ask her. Shut that window, like a good boy, and wait till I come."
-
-With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house, wondering
-what they would all say to her. Laurie was in a flutter of excitement at
-the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready; for, as Mrs.
-March said, he was "a little gentleman," and did honor to the coming
-guest by brushing his curly pate, putting on a fresh collar, and trying
-to tidy up the room, which, in spite of half a dozen servants, was
-anything but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, then a decided
-voice, asking for "Mr. Laurie," and a surprised-looking servant came
-running up to announce a young lady.
-
-"All right, show her up, it's Miss Jo," said Laurie, going to the door
-of his little parlor to meet Jo, who appeared, looking rosy and kind and
-quite at her ease, with a covered dish in one hand and Beth's three
-kittens in the other.
-
-"Here I am, bag and baggage," she said briskly. "Mother sent her love,
-and was glad if I could do anything for you. Meg wanted me to bring some
-of her blanc-mange; she makes it very nicely, and Beth thought her cats
-would be comforting. I knew you'd laugh at them, but I couldn't refuse,
-she was so anxious to do something."
-
-It so happened that Beth's funny loan was just the thing; for, in
-laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his bashfulness, and grew sociable
-at once.
-
-"That looks too pretty to eat," he said, smiling with pleasure, as Jo
-uncovered the dish, and showed the blanc-mange, surrounded by a garland
-of green leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy's pet geranium.
-
-"It isn't anything, only they all felt kindly, and wanted to show it.
-Tell the girl to put it away for your tea: it's so simple, you can eat
-it; and, being soft, it will slip down without hurting your sore throat.
-What a cosy room this is!"
-
-"It might be if it was kept nice; but the maids are lazy, and I don't
-know how to make them mind. It worries me, though."
-
-"I'll right it up in two minutes; for it only needs to have the hearth
-brushed, so,--and the things made straight on the mantel-piece so,--and
-the books put here, and the bottles there, and your sofa turned from the
-light, and the pillows plumped up a bit. Now, then, you're fixed."
-
-And so he was; for, as she laughed and talked, Jo had whisked things
-into place, and given quite a different air to the room. Laurie watched
-her in respectful silence; and when she beckoned him to his sofa, he sat
-down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying gratefully,--
-
-"How kind you are! Yes, that's what it wanted. Now please take the big
-chair, and let me do something to amuse my company."
-
-"No; I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?" and Jo looked
-affectionately toward some inviting books near by.
-
-"Thank you; I've read all those, and if you don't mind, I'd rather
-talk," answered Laurie.
-
-"Not a bit; I'll talk all day if you'll only set me going. Beth says I
-never know when to stop."
-
-"Is Beth the rosy one, who stays at home a good deal, and sometimes goes
-out with a little basket?" asked Laurie, with interest.
-
-"Yes, that's Beth; she's my girl, and a regular good one she is, too."
-
-"The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is Amy, I believe?"
-
-"How did you find that out?"
-
-Laurie colored up, but answered frankly, "Why, you see, I often hear you
-calling to one another, and when I'm alone up here, I can't help looking
-over at your house, you always seem to be having such good times. I beg
-your pardon for being so rude, but sometimes you forget to put down the
-curtain at the window where the flowers are; and when the lamps are
-lighted, it's like looking at a picture to see the fire, and you all
-round the table with your mother; her face is right opposite, and it
-looks so sweet behind the flowers, I can't help watching it. I haven't
-got any mother, you know;" and Laurie poked the fire to hide a little
-twitching of the lips that he could not control.
-
-The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to Jo's warm heart.
-She had been so simply taught that there was no nonsense in her head,
-and at fifteen she was as innocent and frank as any child. Laurie was
-sick and lonely; and, feeling how rich she was in home-love and
-happiness, she gladly tried to share it with him. Her face was very
-friendly and her sharp voice unusually gentle as she said,--
-
-"We'll never draw that curtain any more, and I give you leave to look as
-much as you like. I just wish, though, instead of peeping, you'd come
-over and see us. Mother is so splendid, she'd do you heaps of good, and
-Beth would sing to you if _I_ begged her to, and Amy would dance; Meg
-and I would make you laugh over our funny stage properties, and we'd
-have jolly times. Wouldn't your grandpa let you?"
-
-"I think he would, if your mother asked him. He's very kind, though he
-does not look so; and he lets me do what I like, pretty much, only he's
-afraid I might be a bother to strangers," began Laurie, brightening more
-and more.
-
-"We are not strangers, we are neighbors, and you needn't think you'd be
-a bother. We _want_ to know you, and I've been trying to do it this ever
-so long. We haven't been here a great while, you know, but we have got
-acquainted with all our neighbors but you."
-
-"You see grandpa lives among his books, and doesn't mind much what
-happens outside. Mr. Brooke, my tutor, doesn't stay here, you know, and
-I have no one to go about with me, so I just stop at home and get on as
-I can."
-
-"That's bad. You ought to make an effort, and go visiting everywhere you
-are asked; then you'll have plenty of friends, and pleasant places to go
-to. Never mind being bashful; it won't last long if you keep going."
-
-Laurie turned red again, but wasn't offended at being accused of
-bashfulness; for there was so much good-will in Jo, it was impossible
-not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant.
-
-"Do you like your school?" asked the boy, changing the subject, after a
-little pause, during which he stared at the fire, and Jo looked about
-her, well pleased.
-
-"Don't go to school; I'm a business man--girl, I mean. I go to wait on
-my great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too," answered Jo.
-
-Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question; but remembering just in
-time that it wasn't manners to make too many inquiries into people's
-affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable. Jo liked his good
-breeding, and didn't mind having a laugh at Aunt March, so she gave him
-a lively description of the fidgety old lady, her fat poodle, the parrot
-that talked Spanish, and the library where she revelled. Laurie enjoyed
-that immensely; and when she told about the prim old gentleman who came
-once to woo Aunt March, and, in the middle of a fine speech, how Poll
-had tweaked his wig off to his great dismay, the boy lay back and
-laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and a maid popped her head
-in to see what was the matter.
-
-                [Illustration: Poll tweaked off his wig]
-
-"Oh! that does me no end of good. Tell on, please," he said, taking his
-face out of the sofa-cushion, red and shining with merriment.
-
-Much elated with her success, Jo did "tell on," all about their plays
-and plans, their hopes and fears for father, and the most interesting
-events of the little world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to
-talking about books; and to Jo's delight, she found that Laurie loved
-them as well as she did, and had read even more than herself.
-
-"If you like them so much, come down and see ours. Grandpa is out, so
-you needn't be afraid," said Laurie, getting up.
-
-"I'm not afraid of anything," returned Jo, with a toss of the head.
-
-"I don't believe you are!" exclaimed the boy, looking at her with much
-admiration, though he privately thought she would have good reason to be
-a trifle afraid of the old gentleman, if she met him in some of his
-moods.
-
-The atmosphere of the whole house being summer-like, Laurie led the way
-from room to room, letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her fancy;
-and so at last they came to the library, where she clapped her hands,
-and pranced, as she always did when especially delighted. It was lined
-with books, and there were pictures and statues, and distracting little
-cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and sleepy-hollow chairs, and
-queer tables, and bronzes; and, best of all, a great open fireplace,
-with quaint tiles all round it.
-
-"What richness!" sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velvet chair,
-and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction. "Theodore
-Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world," she added
-impressively.
-
-"A fellow can't live on books," said Laurie, shaking his head, as he
-perched on a table opposite.
-
-Before he could say more, a bell rung, and Jo flew up, exclaiming with
-alarm, "Mercy me! it's your grandpa!"
-
-"Well, what if it is? You are not afraid of anything, you know,"
-returned the boy, looking wicked.
-
-"I think I am a little bit afraid of him, but I don't know why I should
-be. Marmee said I might come, and I don't think you're any the worse for
-it," said Jo, composing herself, though she kept her eyes on the door.
-
-"I'm a great deal better for it, and ever so much obliged. I'm only
-afraid you are very tired talking to me; it was _so_ pleasant, I
-couldn't bear to stop," said Laurie gratefully.
-
-"The doctor to see you, sir," and the maid beckoned as she spoke.
-
-"Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I suppose I must see him,"
-said Laurie.
-
-"Don't mind me. I'm as happy as a cricket here," answered Jo.
-
-Laurie went away, and his guest amused herself in her own way. She was
-standing before a fine portrait of the old gentleman, when the door
-opened again, and, without turning, she said decidedly, "I'm sure now
-that I shouldn't be afraid of him, for he's got kind eyes, though his
-mouth is grim, and he looks as if he had a tremendous will of his own.
-He isn't as handsome as _my_ grandfather, but I like him."
-
-"Thank you, ma'am," said a gruff voice behind her; and there, to her
-great dismay, stood old Mr. Laurence.
-
-Poor Jo blushed till she couldn't blush any redder, and her heart began
-to beat uncomfortably fast as she thought what she had said. For a
-minute a wild desire to run away possessed her; but that was cowardly,
-and the girls would laugh at her: so she resolved to stay, and get out
-of the scrape as she could. A second look showed her that the living
-eyes, under the bushy gray eyebrows, were kinder even than the painted
-ones; and there was a sly twinkle in them, which lessened her fear a
-good deal. The gruff voice was gruffer than ever, as the old gentleman
-said abruptly, after that dreadful pause, "So you're not afraid of me,
-hey?"
-
-"Not much, sir."
-
-"And you don't think me as handsome as your grandfather?"
-
-"Not quite, sir."
-
-"And I've got a tremendous will, have I?"
-
-"I only said I thought so."
-
-"But you like me, in spite of it?"
-
-"Yes, I do, sir."
-
-That answer pleased the old gentleman; he gave a short laugh, shook
-hands with her, and, putting his finger under her chin, turned up her
-face, examined it gravely, and let it go, saying, with a nod, "You've
-got your grandfather's spirit, if you haven't his face. He _was_ a fine
-man, my dear; but, what is better, he was a brave and an honest one, and
-I was proud to be his friend."
-
-           [Illustration: Putting his finger under her chin]
-
-"Thank you, sir;" and Jo was quite comfortable after that, for it suited
-her exactly.
-
-"What have you been doing to this boy of mine, hey?" was the next
-question, sharply put.
-
-"Only trying to be neighborly, sir;" and Jo told how her visit came
-about.
-
-"You think he needs cheering up a bit, do you?"
-
-"Yes, sir; he seems a little lonely, and young folks would do him good
-perhaps. We are only girls, but we should be glad to help if we could,
-for we don't forget the splendid Christmas present you sent us," said Jo
-eagerly.
-
-"Tut, tut, tut! that was the boy's affair. How is the poor woman?"
-
-"Doing nicely, sir;" and off went Jo, talking very fast, as she told all
-about the Hummels, in whom her mother had interested richer friends than
-they were.
-
-"Just her father's way of doing good. I shall come and see your mother
-some fine day. Tell her so. There's the tea-bell; we have it early, on
-the boy's account. Come down, and go on being neighborly."
-
-"If you'd like to have me, sir."
-
-"Shouldn't ask you, if I didn't;" and Mr. Laurence offered her his arm
-with old-fashioned courtesy.
-
-"What _would_ Meg say to this?" thought Jo, as she was marched away,
-while her eyes danced with fun as she imagined herself telling the story
-at home.
-
-"Hey! Why, what the dickens has come to the fellow?" said the old
-gentleman, as Laurie came running down stairs, and brought up with a
-start of surprise at the astonishing sight of Jo arm-in-arm with his
-redoubtable grandfather.
-
-"I didn't know you'd come, sir," he began, as Jo gave him a triumphant
-little glance.
-
-"That's evident, by the way you racket down stairs. Come to your tea,
-sir, and behave like a gentleman;" and having pulled the boy's hair by
-way of a caress, Mr. Laurence walked on, while Laurie went through a
-series of comic evolutions behind their backs, which nearly produced an
-explosion of laughter from Jo.
-
-The old gentleman did not say much as he drank his four cups of tea, but
-he watched the young people, who soon chatted away like old friends, and
-the change in his grandson did not escape him. There was color, light,
-and life in the boy's face now, vivacity in his manner, and genuine
-merriment in his laugh.
-
-"She's right; the lad _is_ lonely. I'll see what these little girls can
-do for him," thought Mr. Laurence, as he looked and listened. He liked
-Jo, for her odd, blunt ways suited him; and she seemed to understand the
-boy almost as well as if she had been one herself.
-
-If the Laurences had been what Jo called "prim and poky," she would not
-have got on at all, for such people always made her shy and awkward; but
-finding them free and easy, she was so herself, and made a good
-impression. When they rose she proposed to go, but Laurie said he had
-something more to show her, and took her away to the conservatory, which
-had been lighted for her benefit. It seemed quite fairylike to Jo, as
-she went up and down the walks, enjoying the blooming walls on either
-side, the soft light, the damp sweet air, and the wonderful vines and
-trees that hung above her,--while her new friend cut the finest flowers
-till his hands were full; then he tied them up, saying, with the happy
-look Jo liked to see, "Please give these to your mother, and tell her I
-like the medicine she sent me very much."
-
-            [Illustration: Please give these to your mother]
-
-They found Mr. Laurence standing before the fire in the great
-drawing-room, but Jo's attention was entirely absorbed by a grand piano,
-which stood open.
-
-"Do you play?" she asked, turning to Laurie with a respectful
-expression.
-
-"Sometimes," he answered modestly.
-
-"Please do now. I want to hear it, so I can tell Beth."
-
-"Won't you first?"
-
-"Don't know how; too stupid to learn, but I love music dearly."
-
-So Laurie played, and Jo listened, with her nose luxuriously buried in
-heliotrope and tea-roses. Her respect and regard for the "Laurence boy"
-increased very much, for he played remarkably well, and didn't put on
-any airs. She wished Beth could hear him, but she did not say so; only
-praised him till he was quite abashed, and his grandfather came to the
-rescue. "That will do, that will do, young lady. Too many sugar-plums
-are not good for him. His music isn't bad, but I hope he will do as well
-in more important things. Going? Well, I'm much obliged to you, and I
-hope you'll come again. My respects to your mother. Good-night, Doctor
-Jo."
-
-He shook hands kindly, but looked as if something did not please him.
-When they got into the hall, Jo asked Laurie if she had said anything
-amiss. He shook his head.
-
-"No, it was me; he doesn't like to hear me play."
-
-"Why not?"
-
-"I'll tell you some day. John is going home with you, as I can't."
-
-"No need of that; I am not a young lady, and it's only a step. Take care
-of yourself, won't you?"
-
-"Yes; but you will come again, I hope?"
-
-"If you promise to come and see us after you are well."
-
-"I will."
-
-"Good-night, Laurie!"
-
-"Good-night, Jo, good-night!"
-
-When all the afternoon's adventures had been told, the family felt
-inclined to go visiting in a body, for each found something very
-attractive in the big house on the other side of the hedge. Mrs. March
-wanted to talk of her father with the old man who had not forgotten him;
-Meg longed to walk in the conservatory; Beth sighed for the grand piano;
-and Amy was eager to see the fine pictures and statues.
-
-"Mother, why didn't Mr. Laurence like to have Laurie play?" asked Jo,
-who was of an inquiring disposition.
-
-"I am not sure, but I think it was because his son, Laurie's father,
-married an Italian lady, a musician, which displeased the old man, who
-is very proud. The lady was good and lovely and accomplished, but he did
-not like her, and never saw his son after he married. They both died
-when Laurie was a little child, and then his grandfather took him home.
-I fancy the boy, who was born in Italy, is not very strong, and the old
-man is afraid of losing him, which makes him so careful. Laurie comes
-naturally by his love of music, for he is like his mother, and I dare
-say his grandfather fears that he may want to be a musician; at any
-rate, his skill reminds him of the woman he did not like, and so he
-'glowered,' as Jo said."
-
-"Dear me, how romantic!" exclaimed Meg.
-
-"How silly!" said Jo. "Let him be a musician, if he wants to, and not
-plague his life out sending him to college, when he hates to go."
-
-"That's why he has such handsome black eyes and pretty manners, I
-suppose. Italians are always nice," said Meg, who was a little
-sentimental.
-
-"What do you know about his eyes and his manners? You never spoke to
-him, hardly," cried Jo, who was _not_ sentimental.
-
-"I saw him at the party, and what you tell shows that he knows how to
-behave. That was a nice little speech about the medicine mother sent
-him."
-
-"He meant the blanc-mange, I suppose."
-
-"How stupid you are, child! He meant you, of course."
-
-"Did he?" and Jo opened her eyes as if it had never occurred to her
-before.
-
-"I never saw such a girl! You don't know a compliment when you get it,"
-said Meg, with the air of a young lady who knew all about the matter.
-
-"I think they are great nonsense, and I'll thank you not to be silly,
-and spoil my fun. Laurie's a nice boy, and I like him, and I won't have
-any sentimental stuff about compliments and such rubbish. We'll all be
-good to him, because he hasn't got any mother, and he _may_ come over
-and see us, mayn't he, Marmee?"
-
-"Yes, Jo, your little friend is very welcome, and I hope Meg will
-remember that children should be children as long as they can."
-
-"I don't call myself a child, and I'm not in my teens yet," observed
-Amy. "What do you say, Beth?"
-
-"I was thinking about our 'Pilgrim's Progress,'" answered Beth, who had
-not heard a word. "How we got out of the Slough and through the Wicket
-Gate by resolving to be good, and up the steep hill by trying; and that
-maybe the house over there, full of splendid things, is going to be our
-Palace Beautiful."
-
-"We have got to get by the lions, first," said Jo, as if she rather
-liked the prospect.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                                  VI.
-
-                    BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL.
-
-
-The big house did prove a Palace Beautiful, though it took some time for
-all to get in, and Beth found it very hard to pass the lions. Old Mr.
-Laurence was the biggest one; but after he had called, said something
-funny or kind to each one of the girls, and talked over old times with
-their mother, nobody felt much afraid of him, except timid Beth. The
-other lion was the fact that they were poor and Laurie rich; for this
-made them shy of accepting favors which they could not return. But,
-after a while, they found that he considered them the benefactors, and
-could not do enough to show how grateful he was for Mrs. March's
-motherly welcome, their cheerful society, and the comfort he took in
-that humble home of theirs. So they soon forgot their pride, and
-interchanged kindnesses without stopping to think which was the greater.
-
-All sorts of pleasant things happened about that time; for the new
-friendship flourished like grass in spring. Every one liked Laurie, and
-he privately informed his tutor that "the Marches were regularly
-splendid girls." With the delightful enthusiasm of youth, they took the
-solitary boy into their midst, and made much of him, and he found
-something very charming in the innocent companionship of these
-simple-hearted girls. Never having known mother or sisters, he was quick
-to feel the influences they brought about him; and their busy, lively
-ways made him ashamed of the indolent life he led. He was tired of
-books, and found people so interesting now that Mr. Brooke was obliged
-to make very unsatisfactory reports; for Laurie was always playing
-truant, and running over to the Marches.
-
-"Never mind; let him take a holiday, and make it up afterwards," said
-the old gentleman. "The good lady next door says he is studying too
-hard, and needs young society, amusement, and exercise. I suspect she is
-right, and that I've been coddling the fellow as if I'd been his
-grandmother. Let him do what he likes, as long as he is happy. He can't
-get into mischief in that little nunnery over there; and Mrs. March is
-doing more for him than we can."
-
-What good times they had, to be sure! Such plays and tableaux, such
-sleigh-rides and skating frolics, such pleasant evenings in the old
-parlor, and now and then such gay little parties at the great house. Meg
-could walk in the conservatory whenever she liked, and revel in
-bouquets; Jo browsed over the new library voraciously, and convulsed the
-old gentleman with her criticisms; Amy copied pictures, and enjoyed
-beauty to her heart's content; and Laurie played "lord of the manor" in
-the most delightful style.
-
-But Beth, though yearning for the grand piano, could not pluck up
-courage to go to the "Mansion of Bliss," as Meg called it. She went once
-with Jo; but the old gentleman, not being aware of her infirmity, stared
-at her so hard from under his heavy eyebrows, and said "Hey!" so loud,
-that he frightened her so much her "feet chattered on the floor," she
-told her mother; and she ran away, declaring she would never go there
-any more, not even for the dear piano. No persuasions or enticements
-could overcome her fear, till, the fact coming to Mr. Laurence's ear in
-some mysterious way, he set about mending matters. During one of the
-brief calls he made, he artfully led the conversation to music, and
-talked away about great singers whom he had seen, fine organs he had
-heard, and told such charming anecdotes that Beth found it impossible to
-stay in her distant corner, but crept nearer and nearer, as if
-fascinated. At the back of his chair she stopped, and stood listening,
-with her great eyes wide open, and her cheeks red with the excitement of
-this unusual performance. Taking no more notice of her than if she had
-been a fly, Mr. Laurence talked on about Laurie's lessons and teachers;
-and presently, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he said to Mrs.
-March,--
-
-"The boy neglects his music now, and I'm glad of it, for he was getting
-too fond of it. But the piano suffers for want of use. Wouldn't some of
-your girls like to run over, and practise on it now and then, just to
-keep it in tune, you know, ma'am?"
-
-Beth took a step forward, and pressed her hands tightly together to keep
-from clapping them, for this was an irresistible temptation; and the
-thought of practising on that splendid instrument quite took her breath
-away. Before Mrs. March could reply, Mr. Laurence went on with an odd
-little nod and smile,--
-
-"They needn't see or speak to any one, but run in at any time; for I'm
-shut up in my study at the other end of the house, Laurie is out a great
-deal, and the servants are never near the drawing-room after nine
-o'clock."
-
-Here he rose, as if going, and Beth made up her mind to speak, for that
-last arrangement left nothing to be desired. "Please tell the young
-ladies what I say; and if they don't care to come, why, never mind."
-Here a little hand slipped into his, and Beth looked up at him with a
-face full of gratitude, as she said, in her earnest yet timid way,--
-
-"O sir, they do care, very, very much!"
-
-             [Illustration: O sir, they do care very much]
-
-"Are you the musical girl?" he asked, without any startling "Hey!" as he
-looked down at her very kindly.
-
-"I'm Beth. I love it dearly, and I'll come, if you are quite sure nobody
-will hear me--and be disturbed," she added, fearing to be rude, and
-trembling at her own boldness as she spoke.
-
-"Not a soul, my dear. The house is empty half the day; so come, and drum
-away as much as you like, and I shall be obliged to you."
-
-"How kind you are, sir!"
-
-Beth blushed like a rose under the friendly look he wore; but she was
-not frightened now, and gave the big hand a grateful squeeze, because
-she had no words to thank him for the precious gift he had given her.
-The old gentleman softly stroked the hair off her forehead, and,
-stooping down, he kissed her, saying, in a tone few people ever heard,--
-
-"I had a little girl once, with eyes like these. God bless you, my dear!
-Good day, madam;" and away he went, in a great hurry.
-
-Beth had a rapture with her mother, and then rushed up to impart the
-glorious news to her family of invalids, as the girls were not at home.
-How blithely she sung that evening, and how they all laughed at her,
-because she woke Amy in the night by playing the piano on her face in
-her sleep. Next day, having seen both the old and young gentleman out of
-the house, Beth, after two or three retreats, fairly got in at the
-side-door, and made her way, as noiselessly as any mouse, to the
-drawing-room, where her idol stood. Quite by accident, of course, some
-pretty, easy music lay on the piano; and, with trembling fingers, and
-frequent stops to listen and look about, Beth at last touched the great
-instrument, and straightway forgot her fear, herself, and everything
-else but the unspeakable delight which the music gave her, for it was
-like the voice of a beloved friend.
-
-She stayed till Hannah came to take her home to dinner; but she had no
-appetite, and could only sit and smile upon every one in a general state
-of beatitude.
-
-After that, the little brown hood slipped through the hedge nearly every
-day, and the great drawing-room was haunted by a tuneful spirit that
-came and went unseen. She never knew that Mr. Laurence often opened his
-study-door to hear the old-fashioned airs he liked; she never saw Laurie
-mount guard in the hall to warn the servants away; she never suspected
-that the exercise-books and new songs which she found in the rack were
-put there for her especial benefit; and when he talked to her about
-music at home, she only thought how kind he was to tell things that
-helped her so much. So she enjoyed herself heartily, and found, what
-isn't always the case, that her granted wish was all she had hoped.
-Perhaps it was because she was so grateful for this blessing that a
-greater was given her; at any rate, she deserved both.
-
-        [Illustration: Mr. Laurence often opened his study door]
-
-"Mother, I'm going to work Mr. Laurence a pair of slippers. He is so
-kind to me, I must thank him, and I don't know any other way. Can I do
-it?" asked Beth, a few weeks after that eventful call of his.
-
-"Yes, dear. It will please him very much, and be a nice way of thanking
-him. The girls will help you about them, and I will pay for the making
-up," replied Mrs. March, who took peculiar pleasure in granting Beth's
-requests, because she so seldom asked anything for herself.
-
-After many serious discussions with Meg and Jo, the pattern was chosen,
-the materials bought, and the slippers begun. A cluster of grave yet
-cheerful pansies, on a deeper purple ground, was pronounced very
-appropriate and pretty; and Beth worked away early and late, with
-occasional lifts over hard parts. She was a nimble little needle-woman,
-and they were finished before any one got tired of them. Then she wrote
-a very short, simple note, and, with Laurie's help, got them smuggled on
-to the study-table one morning before the old gentleman was up.
-
-When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen. All
-that day passed, and a part of the next, before any acknowledgment
-arrived, and she was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety
-friend. On the afternoon of the second day, she went out to do an
-errand, and give poor Joanna, the invalid doll, her daily exercise. As
-she came up the street, on her return, she saw three, yes, four, heads
-popping in and out of the parlor windows, and the moment they saw her,
-several hands were waved, and several joyful voices screamed,--
-
-"Here's a letter from the old gentleman! Come quick, and read it!"
-
-"O Beth, he's sent you--" began Amy, gesticulating with unseemly energy;
-but she got no further, for Jo quenched her by slamming down the window.
-
-Beth hurried on in a flutter of suspense. At the door, her sisters
-seized and bore her to the parlor in a triumphal procession, all
-pointing, and all saying at once, "Look there! look there!" Beth did
-look, and turned pale with delight and surprise; for there stood a
-little cabinet-piano, with a letter lying on the glossy lid, directed,
-like a sign-board, to "Miss Elizabeth March."
-
-"For me?" gasped Beth, holding on to Jo, and feeling as if she should
-tumble down, it was such an overwhelming thing altogether.
-
-"Yes; all for you, my precious! Isn't it splendid of him? Don't you
-think he's the dearest old man in the world? Here's the key in the
-letter. We didn't open it, but we are dying to know what he says," cried
-Jo, hugging her sister, and offering the note.
-
-"You read it! I can't, I feel so queer! Oh, it is too lovely!" and Beth
-hid her face in Jo's apron, quite upset by her present.
-
-Jo opened the paper, and began to laugh, for the first words she saw
-were,--
-
-    "MISS MARCH:
-
-        "_Dear Madam_,--"
-
-"How nice it sounds! I wish some one would write to me so!" said Amy,
-who thought the old-fashioned address very elegant.
-
-    "'I have had many pairs of slippers in my life, but I never had
-    any that suited me so well as yours,'" continued Jo.
-    "'Heart's-ease is my favorite flower, and these will always
-    remind me of the gentle giver. I like to pay my debts; so I
-    know you will allow "the old gentleman" to send you something
-    which once belonged to the little granddaughter he lost. With
-    hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain,
-
-    "'Your grateful friend and humble servant,
-
-                                        "'JAMES LAURENCE.'"
-
-"There, Beth, that's an honor to be proud of, I'm sure! Laurie told me
-how fond Mr. Laurence used to be of the child who died, and how he kept
-all her little things carefully. Just think, he's given you her piano.
-That comes of having big blue eyes and loving music," said Jo, trying to
-soothe Beth, who trembled, and looked more excited than she had ever
-been before.
-
-"See the cunning brackets to hold candles, and the nice green silk,
-puckered up, with a gold rose in the middle, and the pretty rack and
-stool, all complete," added Meg, opening the instrument and displaying
-its beauties.
-
-"'Your humble servant, James Laurence'; only think of his writing that
-to you. I'll tell the girls. They'll think it's splendid," said Amy,
-much impressed by the note.
-
-"Try it, honey. Let's hear the sound of the baby-pianny," said Hannah,
-who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows.
-
-So Beth tried it; and every one pronounced it the most remarkable piano
-ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie
-order; but, perfect as it was, I think the real charm of it lay in the
-happiest of all happy faces which leaned over it, as Beth lovingly
-touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright
-pedals.
-
-"You'll have to go and thank him," said Jo, by way of a joke; for the
-idea of the child's really going never entered her head.
-
-"Yes, I mean to. I guess I'll go now, before I get frightened thinking
-about it." And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth
-walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the
-Laurences' door.
-
-"Well, I wish I may die if it ain't the queerest thing I ever see! The
-pianny has turned her head! She'd never have gone in her right mind,"
-cried Hannah, staring after her, while the girls were rendered quite
-speechless by the miracle.
-
-They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did
-afterward. If you will believe me, she went and knocked at the
-study-door before she gave herself time to think; and when a gruff voice
-called out, "Come in!" she did go in, right up to Mr. Laurence, who
-looked quite taken aback, and held out her hand, saying, with only a
-small quaver in her voice, "I came to thank you, sir, for--" But she
-didn't finish; for he looked so friendly that she forgot her speech,
-and, only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, she put
-both arms round his neck, and kissed him.
-
-    [Illustration: She put both arms around his neck and kissed him]
-
-If the roof of the house had suddenly flown off, the old gentleman
-wouldn't have been more astonished; but he liked it,--oh, dear, yes, he
-liked it amazingly!--and was so touched and pleased by that confiding
-little kiss that all his crustiness vanished; and he just set her on his
-knee, and laid his wrinkled cheek against her rosy one, feeling as if he
-had got his own little granddaughter back again. Beth ceased to fear him
-from that moment, and sat there talking to him as cosily as if she had
-known him all her life; for love casts out fear, and gratitude can
-conquer pride. When she went home, he walked with her to her own gate,
-shook hands cordially, and touched his hat as he marched back again,
-looking very stately and erect, like a handsome, soldierly old
-gentleman, as he was.
-
-When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig, by way of
-expressing her satisfaction; Amy nearly fell out of the window in her
-surprise; and Meg exclaimed, with uplifted hands, "Well, I do believe
-the world is coming to an end!"
-
-
-
-
-                                  VII.
-
-                      AMY'S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION.
-
-
-                      [Illustration: The Cyclops]
-
-"That boy is a perfect Cyclops, isn't he?" said Amy, one day, as Laurie
-clattered by on horseback, with a flourish of his whip as he passed.
-
-"How dare you say so, when he's got both his eyes? and very handsome
-ones they are, too," cried Jo, who resented any slighting remarks about
-her friend.
-
-"I didn't say anything about his eyes, and I don't see why you need fire
-up when I admire his riding."
-
-"Oh, my goodness! that little goose means a centaur, and she called him
-a Cyclops," exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter.
-
-"You needn't be so rude; it's only a 'lapse of lingy,' as Mr. Davis
-says," retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin. "I just wish I had a
-little of the money Laurie spends on that horse," she added, as if to
-herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear.
-
-"Why?" asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laugh at Amy's
-second blunder.
-
-"I need it so much; I'm dreadfully in debt, and it won't be my turn to
-have the rag-money for a month."
-
-"In debt, Amy? What do you mean?" and Meg looked sober.
-
-"Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes, and I can't pay them, you
-know, till I have money, for Marmee forbade my having anything charged
-at the shop."
-
-"Tell me all about it. Are limes the fashion now? It used to be pricking
-bits of rubber to make balls;" and Meg tried to keep her countenance,
-Amy looked so grave and important.
-
-"Why, you see, the girls are always buying them, and unless you want to
-be thought mean, you must do it, too. It's nothing but limes now, for
-every one is sucking them in their desks in school-time, and trading
-them off for pencils, bead-rings, paper dolls, or something else, at
-recess. If one girl likes another, she gives her a lime; if she's mad
-with her, she eats one before her face, and don't offer even a suck.
-They treat by turns; and I've had ever so many, but haven't returned
-them; and I ought, for they are debts of honor, you know."
-
-"How much will pay them off, and restore your credit?" asked Meg, taking
-out her purse.
-
-"A quarter would more than do it, and leave a few cents over for a treat
-for you. Don't you like limes?"
-
-"Not much; you may have my share. Here's the money. Make it last as long
-as you can, for it isn't very plenty, you know."
-
-"Oh, thank you! It must be so nice to have pocket-money! I'll have a
-grand feast, for I haven't tasted a lime this week. I felt delicate
-about taking any, as I couldn't return them, and I'm actually suffering
-for one."
-
-Next day Amy was rather late at school; but could not resist the
-temptation of displaying, with pardonable pride, a moist brown-paper
-parcel, before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk.
-During the next few minutes the rumor that Amy March had got twenty-four
-delicious limes (she ate one on the way), and was going to treat,
-circulated through her "set," and the attentions of her friends became
-quite overwhelming. Katy Brown invited her to her next party on the
-spot; Mary Kingsley insisted on lending her her watch till recess; and
-Jenny Snow, a satirical young lady, who had basely twitted Amy upon her
-limeless state, promptly buried the hatchet, and offered to furnish
-answers to certain appalling sums. But Amy had not forgotten Miss Snow's
-cutting remarks about "some persons whose noses were not too flat to
-smell other people's limes, and stuck-up people, who were not too proud
-to ask for them;" and she instantly crushed "that Snow girl's" hopes by
-the withering telegram, "You needn't be so polite all of a sudden, for
-you won't get any."
-
-A distinguished personage happened to visit the school that morning, and
-Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise, which honor to her foe
-rankled in the soul of Miss Snow, and caused Miss March to assume the
-airs of a studious young peacock. But, alas, alas! pride goes before a
-fall, and the revengeful Snow turned the tables with disastrous success.
-No sooner had the guest paid the usual stale compliments, and bowed
-himself out, than Jenny, under pretence of asking an important question,
-informed Mr. Davis, the teacher, that Amy March had pickled limes in her
-desk.
-
-Now Mr. Davis had declared limes a contraband article, and solemnly
-vowed to publicly ferrule the first person who was found breaking the
-law. This much-enduring man had succeeded in banishing chewing-gum after
-a long and stormy war, had made a bonfire of the confiscated novels and
-newspapers, had suppressed a private post-office, had forbidden
-distortions of the face, nicknames, and caricatures, and done all that
-one man could do to keep half a hundred rebellious girls in order. Boys
-are trying enough to human patience, goodness knows! but girls are
-infinitely more so, especially to nervous gentlemen, with tyrannical
-tempers, and no more talent for teaching than Dr. Blimber. Mr. Davis
-knew any quantity of Greek, Latin, Algebra, and ologies of all sorts, so
-he was called a fine teacher; and manners, morals, feelings, and
-examples were not considered of any particular importance. It was a most
-unfortunate moment for denouncing Amy, and Jenny knew it. Mr. Davis had
-evidently taken his coffee too strong that morning; there was an east
-wind, which always affected his neuralgia; and his pupils had not done
-him the credit which he felt he deserved: therefore, to use the
-expressive, if not elegant, language of a school-girl, "he was as
-nervous as a witch and as cross as a bear." The word "limes" was like
-fire to powder; his yellow face flushed, and he rapped on his desk with
-an energy which made Jenny skip to her seat with unusual rapidity.
-
-"Young ladies, attention, if you please!"
-
-At the stern order the buzz ceased, and fifty pairs of blue, black,
-gray, and brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awful countenance.
-
-"Miss March, come to the desk."
-
-Amy rose to comply with outward composure, but a secret fear oppressed
-her, for the limes weighed upon her conscience.
-
-"Bring with you the limes you have in your desk," was the unexpected
-command which arrested her before she got out of her seat.
-
-"Don't take all," whispered her neighbor, a young lady of great presence
-of mind.
-
-Amy hastily shook out half a dozen, and laid the rest down before Mr.
-Davis, feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relent when
-that delicious perfume met his nose. Unfortunately, Mr. Davis
-particularly detested the odor of the fashionable pickle, and disgust
-added to his wrath.
-
-"Is that all?"
-
-"Not quite," stammered Amy.
-
-"Bring the rest immediately."
-
-With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed.
-
-"You are sure there are no more?"
-
-"I never lie, sir."
-
-"So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two, and throw them
-out of the window."
-
-There was a simultaneous sigh, which created quite a little gust, as the
-last hope fled, and the treat was ravished from their longing lips.
-Scarlet with shame and anger, Amy went to and fro six dreadful times;
-and as each doomed couple--looking oh! so plump and juicy--fell from her
-reluctant hands, a shout from the street completed the anguish of the
-girls, for it told them that their feast was being exulted over by the
-little Irish children, who were their sworn foes. This--this was too
-much; all flashed indignant or appealing glances at the inexorable
-Davis, and one passionate lime-lover burst into tears.
-
-As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr. Davis gave a portentous "Hem!"
-and said, in his most impressive manner,--
-
-"Young ladies, you remember what I said to you a week ago. I am sorry
-this has happened, but I never allow my rules to be infringed, and I
-_never_ break my word. Miss March, hold out your hand."
-
-Amy started, and put both hands behind her, turning on him an imploring
-look which pleaded for her better than the words she could not utter.
-She was rather a favorite with "old Davis," as, of course, he was
-called, and it's my private belief that he _would_ have broken his word
-if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had not found vent in
-a hiss. That hiss, faint as it was, irritated the irascible gentleman,
-and sealed the culprit's fate.
-
-"Your hand, Miss March!" was the only answer her mute appeal received;
-and, too proud to cry or beseech, Amy set her teeth, threw back her
-head defiantly, and bore without flinching several tingling blows on her
-little palm. They were neither many nor heavy, but that made no
-difference to her. For the first time in her life she had been struck;
-and the disgrace, in her eyes, was as deep as if he had knocked her
-down.
-
-   [Illustration: Amy bore without flinching several tingling blows]
-
-"You will now stand on the platform till recess," said Mr. Davis,
-resolved to do the thing thoroughly, since he had begun.
-
-That was dreadful. It would have been bad enough to go to her seat, and
-see the pitying faces of her friends, or the satisfied ones of her few
-enemies; but to face the whole school, with that shame fresh upon her,
-seemed impossible, and for a second she felt as if she could only drop
-down where she stood, and break her heart with crying. A bitter sense of
-wrong, and the thought of Jenny Snow, helped her to bear it; and, taking
-the ignominious place, she fixed her eyes on the stove-funnel above what
-now seemed a sea of faces, and stood there, so motionless and white that
-the girls found it very hard to study, with that pathetic figure before
-them.
-
-During the fifteen minutes that followed, the proud and sensitive little
-girl suffered a shame and pain which she never forgot. To others it
-might seem a ludicrous or trivial affair, but to her it was a hard
-experience; for during the twelve years of her life she had been
-governed by love alone, and a blow of that sort had never touched her
-before. The smart of her hand and the ache of her heart were forgotten
-in the sting of the thought,--
-
-"I shall have to tell at home, and they will be so disappointed in me!"
-
-The fifteen minutes seemed an hour; but they came to an end at last, and
-the word "Recess!" had never seemed so welcome to her before.
-
-"You can go, Miss March," said Mr. Davis, looking, as he felt,
-uncomfortable.
-
-He did not soon forget the reproachful glance Amy gave him, as she went,
-without a word to any one, straight into the ante-room, snatched her
-things, and left the place "forever," as she passionately declared to
-herself. She was in a sad state when she got home; and when the older
-girls arrived, some time later, an indignation meeting was held at
-once. Mrs. March did not say much, but looked disturbed, and comforted
-her afflicted little daughter in her tenderest manner. Meg bathed the
-insulted hand with glycerine and tears; Beth felt that even her beloved
-kittens would fail as a balm for griefs like this; Jo wrathfully
-proposed that Mr. Davis be arrested without delay; and Hannah shook her
-fist at the "villain," and pounded potatoes for dinner as if she had him
-under her pestle.
-
-No notice was taken of Amy's flight, except by her mates; but the
-sharp-eyed demoiselles discovered that Mr. Davis was quite benignant in
-the afternoon, also unusually nervous. Just before school closed, Jo
-appeared, wearing a grim expression, as she stalked up to the desk, and
-delivered a letter from her mother; then collected Amy's property, and
-departed, carefully scraping the mud from her boots on the door-mat, as
-if she shook the dust of the place off her feet.
-
-"Yes, you can have a vacation from school, but I want you to study a
-little every day, with Beth," said Mrs. March, that evening. "I don't
-approve of corporal punishment, especially for girls. I dislike Mr.
-Davis's manner of teaching, and don't think the girls you associate with
-are doing you any good, so I shall ask your father's advice before I
-send you anywhere else."
-
-"That's good! I wish all the girls would leave, and spoil his old
-school. It's perfectly maddening to think of those lovely limes," sighed
-Amy, with the air of a martyr.
-
-"I am not sorry you lost them, for you broke the rules, and deserved
-some punishment for disobedience," was the severe reply, which rather
-disappointed the young lady, who expected nothing but sympathy.
-
-"Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the whole school?"
-cried Amy.
-
-"I should not have chosen that way of mending a fault," replied her
-mother; "but I'm not sure that it won't do you more good than a milder
-method. You are getting to be rather conceited, my dear, and it is quite
-time you set about correcting it. You have a good many little gifts and
-virtues, but there is no need of parading them, for conceit spoils the
-finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness
-will be overlooked long; even if it is, the consciousness of possessing
-and using it well should satisfy one, and the great charm of all power
-is modesty."
-
-"So it is!" cried Laurie, who was playing chess in a corner with Jo. "I
-knew a girl, once, who had a really remarkable talent for music, and she
-didn't know it; never guessed what sweet little things she composed when
-she was alone, and wouldn't have believed it if any one had told her."
-
-"I wish I'd known that nice girl; maybe she would have helped me, I'm so
-stupid," said Beth, who stood beside him, listening eagerly.
-
-"You do know her, and she helps you better than any one else could,"
-answered Laurie, looking at her with such mischievous meaning in his
-merry black eyes, that Beth suddenly turned very red, and hid her face
-in the sofa-cushion, quite overcome by such an unexpected discovery.
-
-                    [Illustration: You do know her]
-
-Jo let Laurie win the game, to pay for that praise of her Beth, who
-could not be prevailed upon to play for them after her compliment. So
-Laurie did his best, and sung delightfully, being in a particularly
-lively humor, for to the Marches he seldom showed the moody side of his
-character. When he was gone, Amy, who had been pensive all the evening,
-said suddenly, as if busy over some new idea,--
-
-"Is Laurie an accomplished boy?"
-
-"Yes; he has had an excellent education, and has much talent; he will
-make a fine man, if not spoilt by petting," replied her mother.
-
-"And he isn't conceited, is he?" asked Amy.
-
-"Not in the least; that is why he is so charming, and we all like him so
-much."
-
-"I see; it's nice to have accomplishments, and be elegant; but not to
-show off, or get perked up," said Amy thoughtfully.
-
-"These things are always seen and felt in a person's manner and
-conversation, if modestly used; but it is not necessary to display
-them," said Mrs. March.
-
-"Any more than it's proper to wear all your bonnets and gowns and
-ribbons at once, that folks may know you've got them," added Jo; and the
-lecture ended in a laugh.
-
-
-
-
-              [Illustration: Girls, where are you going?]
-
-                                 VIII.
-
-                           JO MEETS APOLLYON.
-
-
-"Girls, where are you going?" asked Amy, coming into their room one
-Saturday afternoon, and finding them getting ready to go out, with an
-air of secrecy which excited her curiosity.
-
-"Never mind; little girls shouldn't ask questions," returned Jo sharply.
-
-Now if there _is_ anything mortifying to our feelings, when we are
-young, it is to be told that; and to be bidden to "run away, dear," is
-still more trying to us. Amy bridled up at this insult, and determined
-to find out the secret, if she teased for an hour. Turning to Meg, who
-never refused her anything very long, she said coaxingly, "Do tell me! I
-should think you might let me go, too; for Beth is fussing over her
-piano, and I haven't got anything to do, and am _so_ lonely."
-
-"I can't, dear, because you aren't invited," began Meg; but Jo broke in
-impatiently, "Now, Meg, be quiet, or you will spoil it all. You can't
-go, Amy; so don't be a baby, and whine about it."
-
-"You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are; you were
-whispering and laughing together, on the sofa, last night, and you
-stopped when I came in. Aren't you going with him?"
-
-"Yes, we are; now do be still, and stop bothering."
-
-Amy held her tongue, but used her eyes, and saw Meg slip a fan into her
-pocket.
-
-"I know! I know! you're going to the theatre to see the 'Seven
-Castles!'" she cried; adding resolutely, "and I _shall_ go, for mother
-said I might see it; and I've got my rag-money, and it was mean not to
-tell me in time."
-
-"Just listen to me a minute, and be a good child," said Meg soothingly.
-"Mother doesn't wish you to go this week, because your eyes are not well
-enough yet to bear the light of this fairy piece. Next week you can go
-with Beth and Hannah, and have a nice time."
-
-"I don't like that half as well as going with you and Laurie. Please let
-me; I've been sick with this cold so long, and shut up, I'm dying for
-some fun. Do, Meg! I'll be ever so good," pleaded Amy, looking as
-pathetic as she could.
-
-"Suppose we take her. I don't believe mother would mind, if we bundle
-her up well," began Meg.
-
-"If _she_ goes _I_ sha'n't; and if I don't, Laurie won't like it; and it
-will be very rude, after he invited only us, to go and drag in Amy. I
-should think she'd hate to poke herself where she isn't wanted," said Jo
-crossly, for she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child,
-when she wanted to enjoy herself.
-
-Her tone and manner angered Amy, who began to put her boots on, saying,
-in her most aggravating way, "I _shall_ go; Meg says I may; and if I pay
-for myself, Laurie hasn't anything to do with it."
-
-"You can't sit with us, for our seats are reserved, and you mustn't sit
-alone; so Laurie will give you his place, and that will spoil our
-pleasure; or he'll get another seat for you, and that isn't proper, when
-you weren't asked. You sha'n't stir a step; so you may just stay where
-you are," scolded Jo, crosser than ever, having just pricked her finger
-in her hurry.
-
-Sitting on the floor, with one boot on, Amy began to cry, and Meg to
-reason with her, when Laurie called from below, and the two girls
-hurried down, leaving their sister wailing; for now and then she forgot
-her grown-up ways, and acted like a spoilt child. Just as the party was
-setting out, Amy called over the banisters, in a threatening tone,
-"You'll be sorry for this, Jo March; see if you ain't."
-
-"Fiddlesticks!" returned Jo, slamming the door.
-
-They had a charming time, for "The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake"
-were as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish. But, in spite of
-the comical red imps, sparkling elves, and gorgeous princes and
-princesses, Jo's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it; the fairy
-queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy; and between the acts she
-amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her
-"sorry for it." She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course
-of their lives, for both had quick tempers, and were apt to be violent
-when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo, and Jo irritated Amy, and
-semi-occasional explosions occurred, of which both were much ashamed
-afterward. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had
-hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting
-her into trouble; her anger never lasted long, and, having humbly
-confessed her fault, she sincerely repented, and tried to do better. Her
-sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury,
-because she was such an angel afterward. Poor Jo tried desperately to be
-good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her;
-and it took years of patient effort to subdue it.
-
-When they got home, they found Amy reading in the parlor. She assumed an
-injured air as they came in; never lifted her eyes from her book, or
-asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered
-resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire, and receive a glowing
-description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's
-first look was toward the bureau; for, in their last quarrel, Amy had
-soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down on the
-floor. Everything was in its place, however; and after a hasty glance
-into her various closets, bags, and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had
-forgiven and forgotten her wrongs.
-
-There Jo was mistaken; for next day she made a discovery which produced
-a tempest. Meg, Beth, and Amy were sitting together, late in the
-afternoon, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited, and demanding
-breathlessly, "Has any one taken my book?"
-
-Meg and Beth said "No," at once, and looked surprised; Amy poked the
-fire, and said nothing. Jo saw her color rise, and was down upon her in
-a minute.
-
-"Amy, you've got it?"
-
-"No, I haven't."
-
-"You know where it is, then?"
-
-"No, I don't."
-
-"That's a fib!" cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders, and looking
-fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy.
-
-"It isn't. I haven't got it, don't know where it is now, and don't
-care."
-
-"You know something about it, and you'd better tell at once, or I'll
-make you," and Jo gave her a slight shake.
-
-"Scold as much as you like, you'll never see your silly old book again,"
-cried Amy, getting excited in her turn.
-
-"Why not?"
-
-"I burnt it up."
-
-                     [Illustration: I burnt it up]
-
-"What! my little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to
-finish before father got home? Have you really burnt it?" said Jo,
-turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy
-nervously.
-
-"Yes, I did! I told you I'd make you pay for being so cross yesterday,
-and I have, so--"
-
-Amy got no farther, for Jo's hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy
-till her teeth chattered in her head; crying, in a passion of grief and
-anger,--
-
-"You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again, and I'll never
-forgive you as long as I live."
-
-Meg flew to rescue Amy, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside
-herself; and, with a parting box on her sister's ear, she rushed out of
-the room up to the old sofa in the garret, and finished her fight alone.
-
-The storm cleared up below, for Mrs. March came home, and, having heard
-the story, soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her
-sister. Jo's book was the pride of her heart, and was regarded by her
-family as a literary sprout of great promise. It was only half a dozen
-little fairy tales, but Jo had worked over them patiently, putting her
-whole heart into her work, hoping to make something good enough to
-print. She had just copied them with great care, and had destroyed the
-old manuscript, so that Amy's bonfire had consumed the loving work of
-several years. It seemed a small loss to others, but to Jo it was a
-dreadful calamity, and she felt that it never could be made up to her.
-Beth mourned as for a departed kitten, and Meg refused to defend her
-pet; Mrs. March looked grave and grieved, and Amy felt that no one would
-love her till she had asked pardon for the act which she now regretted
-more than any of them.
-
-When the tea-bell rung, Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable
-that it took all Amy's courage to say meekly,--
-
-"Please forgive me, Jo; I'm very, very sorry."
-
-"I never shall forgive you," was Jo's stern answer; and, from that
-moment, she ignored Amy entirely.
-
-No one spoke of the great trouble,--not even Mrs. March,--for all had
-learned by experience that when Jo was in that mood words were wasted;
-and the wisest course was to wait till some little accident, or her own
-generous nature, softened Jo's resentment, and healed the breach. It was
-not a happy evening; for, though they sewed as usual, while their mother
-read aloud from Bremer, Scott, or Edgeworth, something was wanting, and
-the sweet home-peace was disturbed. They felt this most when
-singing-time came; for Beth could only play, Jo stood dumb as a stone,
-and Amy broke down, so Meg and mother sung alone. But, in spite of their
-efforts to be as cheery as larks, the flute-like voices did not seem to
-chord as well as usual, and all felt out of tune.
-
-As Jo received her good-night kiss, Mrs. March whispered gently,--
-
-"My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger; forgive each other,
-help each other, and begin again to-morrow."
-
-Jo wanted to lay her head down on that motherly bosom, and cry her grief
-and anger all away; but tears were an unmanly weakness, and she felt so
-deeply injured that she really _couldn't_ quite forgive yet. So she
-winked hard, shook her head, and said, gruffly because Amy was
-listening,--
-
-"It was an abominable thing, and she don't deserve to be forgiven."
-
-With that she marched off to bed, and there was no merry or confidential
-gossip that night.
-
-Amy was much offended that her overtures of peace had been repulsed, and
-began to wish she had not humbled herself, to feel more injured than
-ever, and to plume herself on her superior virtue in a way which was
-particularly exasperating. Jo still looked like a thunder-cloud, and
-nothing went well all day. It was bitter cold in the morning; she
-dropped her precious turn-over in the gutter, Aunt March had an attack
-of fidgets, Meg was pensive, Beth _would_ look grieved and wistful when
-she got home, and Amy kept making remarks about people who were always
-talking about being good, and yet wouldn't try, when other people set
-them a virtuous example.
-
-"Everybody is so hateful, I'll ask Laurie to go skating. He is always
-kind and jolly, and will put me to rights, I know," said Jo to herself,
-and off she went.
-
-Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient
-exclamation,--
-
-"There! she promised I should go next time, for this is the last ice we
-shall have. But it's no use to ask such a cross-patch to take me."
-
-"Don't say that; you _were_ very naughty, and it _is_ hard to forgive
-the loss of her precious little book; but I think she might do it now,
-and I guess she will, if you try her at the right minute," said Meg. "Go
-after them; don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie,
-then take a quiet minute, and just kiss her, or do some kind thing, and
-I'm sure she'll be friends again, with all her heart."
-
-"I'll try," said Amy, for the advice suited her; and, after a flurry to
-get ready, she ran after the friends, who were just disappearing over
-the hill.
-
-It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached
-them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back; Laurie did not see, for he
-was carefully skating along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm
-spell had preceded the cold snap.
-
-"I'll go on to the first bend, and see if it's all right, before we
-begin to race," Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young
-Russian, in his fur-trimmed coat and cap.
-
-Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing her
-fingers, as she tried to put her skates on; but Jo never turned, and
-went slowly zigzagging down the river, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of
-satisfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till
-it grew strong, and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and
-feelings always do, unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend,
-he shouted back,--
-
-"Keep near the shore; it isn't safe in the middle."
-
-Jo heard, but Amy was just struggling to her feet, and did not catch a
-word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was
-harboring said in her ear,--
-
-"No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself."
-
-Laurie had vanished round the bend; Jo was just at the turn, and Amy,
-far behind, striking out toward the smoother ice in the middle of the
-river. For a minute Jo stood still, with a strange feeling at her heart;
-then she resolved to go on, but something held and turned her round,
-just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with the sudden
-crash of rotten ice, the splash of water, and a cry that made Jo's heart
-stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone;
-she tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in
-them; and, for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring, with
-a terror-stricken face, at the little blue hood above the black water.
-Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie's voice cried out,--
-
-"Bring a rail; quick, quick!"
-
-How she did it, she never knew; but for the next few minutes she worked
-as if possessed, blindly obeying Laurie, who was quite self-possessed,
-and, lying flat, held Amy up by his arm and hockey till Jo dragged a
-rail from the fence, and together they got the child out, more
-frightened than hurt.
-
-           [Illustration: Held Amy up by his arms and hockey]
-
-"Now then, we must walk her home as fast as we can; pile our things on
-her, while I get off these confounded skates," cried Laurie, wrapping
-his coat round Amy, and tugging away at the straps, which never seemed
-so intricate before.
-
-Shivering, dripping, and crying, they got Amy home; and, after an
-exciting time of it, she fell asleep, rolled in blankets, before a hot
-fire. During the bustle Jo had scarcely spoken; but flown about, looking
-pale and wild, with her things half off, her dress torn, and her hands
-cut and bruised by ice and rails, and refractory buckles. When Amy was
-comfortably asleep, the house quiet, and Mrs. March sitting by the bed,
-she called Jo to her, and began to bind up the hurt hands.
-
-"Are you sure she is safe?" whispered Jo, looking remorsefully at the
-golden head, which might have been swept away from her sight forever
-under the treacherous ice.
-
-"Quite safe, dear; she is not hurt, and won't even take cold, I think,
-you were so sensible in covering and getting her home quickly," replied
-her mother cheerfully.
-
-"Laurie did it all; I only let her go. Mother, if she _should_ die, it
-would be my fault"; and Jo dropped down beside the bed, in a passion of
-penitent tears, telling all that had happened, bitterly condemning her
-hardness of heart, and sobbing out her gratitude for being spared the
-heavy punishment which might have come upon her.
-
-"It's my dreadful temper! I try to cure it; I think I have, and then it
-breaks out worse than ever. O mother, what shall I do? what shall I do?"
-cried poor Jo, in despair.
-
-"Watch and pray, dear; never get tired of trying; and never think it is
-impossible to conquer your fault," said Mrs. March, drawing the blowzy
-head to her shoulder, and kissing the wet cheek so tenderly that Jo
-cried harder than ever.
-
-"You don't know, you can't guess how bad it is! It seems as if I could
-do anything when I'm in a passion; I get so savage, I could hurt any
-one, and enjoy it. I'm afraid I _shall_ do something dreadful some day,
-and spoil my life, and make everybody hate me. O mother, help me, do
-help me!"
-
-"I will, my child, I will. Don't cry so bitterly, but remember this day,
-and resolve, with all your soul, that you will never know another like
-it. Jo, dear, we all have our temptations, some far greater than yours,
-and it often takes us all our lives to conquer them. You think your
-temper is the worst in the world; but mine used to be just like it."
-
-"Yours, mother? Why, you are never angry!" and, for the moment, Jo
-forgot remorse in surprise.
-
-"I've been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in
-controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo; but I have
-learned not to show it; and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though
-it may take me another forty years to do so."
-
-The patience and the humility of the face she loved so well was a better
-lesson to Jo than the wisest lecture, the sharpest reproof. She felt
-comforted at once by the sympathy and confidence given her; the
-knowledge that her mother had a fault like hers, and tried to mend it,
-made her own easier to bear and strengthened her resolution to cure it;
-though forty years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray, to a
-girl of fifteen.
-
-"Mother, are you angry when you fold your lips tight together, and go
-out of the room sometimes, when Aunt March scolds, or people worry
-you?" asked Jo, feeling nearer and dearer to her mother than ever
-before.
-
-"Yes, I've learned to check the hasty words that rise to my lips; and
-when I feel that they mean to break out against my will, I just go away
-a minute, and give myself a little shake, for being so weak and wicked,"
-answered Mrs. March, with a sigh and a smile, as she smoothed and
-fastened up Jo's dishevelled hair.
-
-"How did you learn to keep still? That is what troubles me--for the
-sharp words fly out before I know what I'm about; and the more I say the
-worse I get, till it's a pleasure to hurt people's feelings, and say
-dreadful things. Tell me how you do it, Marmee dear."
-
-"My good mother used to help me--"
-
-"As you do us--" interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss.
-
-"But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, and for years
-had to struggle on alone, for I was too proud to confess my weakness to
-any one else. I had a hard time, Jo, and shed a good many bitter tears
-over my failures; for, in spite of my efforts, I never seemed to get on.
-Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be
-good. But by and by, when I had four little daughters round me, and we
-were poor, then the old trouble began again; for I am not patient by
-nature, and it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything."
-
-"Poor mother! what helped you then?"
-
-"Your father, Jo. He never loses patience,--never doubts or
-complains,--but always hopes, and works and waits so cheerfully, that
-one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me,
-and showed me that I must try to practise all the virtues I would have
-my little girls possess, for I was their example. It was easier to try
-for your sakes than for my own; a startled or surprised look from one of
-you, when I spoke sharply, rebuked me more than any words could have
-done; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the
-sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would
-have them copy."
-
-"O mother, if I'm ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied," cried
-Jo, much touched.
-
-"I hope you will be a great deal better, dear; but you must keep watch
-over your 'bosom enemy,' as father calls it, or it may sadden, if not
-spoil your life. You have had a warning; remember it, and try with heart
-and soul to master this quick temper, before it brings you greater
-sorrow and regret than you have known to-day."
-
-"I will try, mother; I truly will. But you must help me, remind me, and
-keep me from flying out. I used to see father sometimes put his finger
-on his lips, and look at you with a very kind, but sober face, and you
-always folded your lips tight or went away: was he reminding you then?"
-asked Jo softly.
-
-"Yes; I asked him to help me so, and he never forgot it, but saved me
-from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look."
-
-Jo saw that her mother's eyes filled and her lips trembled, as she
-spoke; and, fearing that she had said too much, she whispered anxiously,
-"Was it wrong to watch you, and to speak of it? I didn't mean to be
-rude, but it's so comfortable to say all I think to you, and feel so
-safe and happy here."
-
-"My Jo, you may say anything to your mother, for it is my greatest
-happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me, and know how
-much I love them."
-
-"I thought I'd grieved you."
-
-"No, dear; but speaking of father reminded me how much I miss him, how
-much I owe him, and how faithfully I should watch and work to keep his
-little daughters safe and good for him."
-
-"Yet you told him to go, mother, and didn't cry when he went, and never
-complain now, or seem as if you needed any help," said Jo, wondering.
-
-"I gave my best to the country I love, and kept my tears till he was
-gone. Why should I complain, when we both have merely done our duty and
-will surely be the happier for it in the end? If I don't seem to need
-help, it is because I have a better friend, even than father, to comfort
-and sustain me. My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are
-beginning, and may be many; but you can overcome and outlive them all if
-you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as
-you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the
-nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power
-and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken
-from you, but may become the source of life-long peace, happiness, and
-strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little
-cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as
-you come to your mother."
-
-Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close, and, in the silence which
-followed, the sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart
-without words; for in that sad, yet happy hour, she had learned not only
-the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial
-and self-control; and, led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to
-the Friend who welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of
-any father, tenderer than that of any mother.
-
-Amy stirred, and sighed in her sleep; and, as if eager to begin at once
-to mend her fault, Jo looked up with an expression on her face which it
-had never worn before.
-
-"I let the sun go down on my anger; I wouldn't forgive her, and to-day,
-if it hadn't been for Laurie, it might have been too late! How could I
-be so wicked?" said Jo, half aloud, as she leaned over her sister,
-softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow.
-
-As if she heard, Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a
-smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, but they
-hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was
-forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.
-
-
-
-
-              [Illustration: Packing the go abroady trunk]
-
-                                  IX.
-
-                        MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR.
-
-
-"I do think it was the most fortunate thing in the world that those
-children should have the measles just now," said Meg, one April day, as
-she stood packing the "go abroady" trunk in her room, surrounded by her
-sisters.
-
-"And so nice of Annie Moffat not to forget her promise. A whole
-fortnight of fun will be regularly splendid," replied Jo, looking like a
-windmill, as she folded skirts with her long arms.
-
-"And such lovely weather; I'm so glad of that," added Beth, tidily
-sorting neck and hair ribbons in her best box, lent for the great
-occasion.
-
-"I wish I was going to have a fine time, and wear all these nice
-things," said Amy, with her mouth full of pins, as she artistically
-replenished her sister's cushion.
-
-"I wish you were all going; but, as you can't, I shall keep my
-adventures to tell you when I come back. I'm sure it's the least I can
-do, when you have been so kind, lending me things, and helping me get
-ready," said Meg, glancing round the room at the very simple outfit,
-which seemed nearly perfect in their eyes.
-
-"What did mother give you out of the treasure-box?" asked Amy, who had
-not been present at the opening of a certain cedar chest, in which Mrs.
-March kept a few relics of past splendor, as gifts for her girls when
-the proper time came.
-
-"A pair of silk stockings, that pretty carved fan, and a lovely blue
-sash. I wanted the violet silk; but there isn't time to make it over, so
-I must be contented with my old tarlatan."
-
-"It will look nicely over my new muslin skirt, and the sash will set it
-off beautifully. I wish I hadn't smashed my coral bracelet, for you
-might have had it," said Jo, who loved to give and lend, but whose
-possessions were usually too dilapidated to be of much use.
-
-"There is a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure-box; but
-mother said real flowers were the prettiest ornament for a young girl,
-and Laurie promised to send me all I want," replied Meg. "Now, let me
-see; there's my new gray walking-suit--just curl up the feather in my
-hat, Beth,--then my poplin, for Sunday, and the small party,--it looks
-heavy for spring, doesn't it? The violet silk would be so nice; oh,
-dear!"
-
-"Never mind; you've got the tarlatan for the big party, and you always
-look like an angel in white," said Amy, brooding over the little store
-of finery in which her soul delighted.
-
-"It isn't low-necked, and it doesn't sweep enough, but it will have to
-do. My blue house-dress looks so well, turned and freshly trimmed, that
-I feel as if I'd got a new one. My silk sacque isn't a bit the fashion,
-and my bonnet doesn't look like Sallie's; I didn't like to say
-anything, but I was sadly disappointed in my umbrella. I told mother
-black, with a white handle, but she forgot, and bought a green one, with
-a yellowish handle. It's strong and neat, so I ought not to complain,
-but I know I shall feel ashamed of it beside Annie's silk one with a
-gold top," sighed Meg, surveying the little umbrella with great
-disfavor.
-
-"Change it," advised Jo.
-
-"I won't be so silly, or hurt Marmee's feelings, when she took so much
-pains to get my things. It's a nonsensical notion of mine, and I'm not
-going to give up to it. My silk stockings and two pairs of new gloves
-are my comfort. You are a dear, to lend me yours, Jo. I feel so rich,
-and sort of elegant, with two new pairs, and the old ones cleaned up for
-common;" and Meg took a refreshing peep at her glove-box.
-
-"Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her night-caps; would you put
-some on mine?" she asked, as Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins,
-fresh from Hannah's hands.
-
-"No, I wouldn't; for the smart caps won't match the plain gowns, without
-any trimming on them. Poor folks shouldn't rig," said Jo decidedly.
-
-"I wonder if I shall _ever_ be happy enough to have real lace on my
-clothes, and bows on my caps?" said Meg impatiently.
-
-"You said the other day that you'd be perfectly happy if you could only
-go to Annie Moffat's," observed Beth, in her quiet way.
-
-"So I did! Well, I _am_ happy, and I _won't_ fret; but it does seem as
-if the more one gets the more one wants, doesn't it? There, now, the
-trays are ready, and everything in but my ball-dress, which I shall
-leave for mother to pack," said Meg, cheering up, as she glanced from
-the half-filled trunk to the many-times pressed and mended white
-tarlatan, which she called her "ball-dress," with an important air.
-
-The next day was fine, and Meg departed, in style, for a fortnight of
-novelty and pleasure. Mrs. March had consented to the visit rather
-reluctantly, fearing that Margaret would come back more discontented
-than she went. But she had begged so hard, and Sallie had promised to
-take good care of her, and a little pleasure seemed so delightful after
-a winter of irksome work, that the mother yielded, and the daughter went
-to take her first taste of fashionable life.
-
-The Moffats _were_ very fashionable, and simple Meg was rather daunted,
-at first, by the splendor of the house and the elegance of its
-occupants. But they were kindly people, in spite of the frivolous life
-they led, and soon put their guest at her ease. Perhaps Meg felt,
-without understanding why, that they were not particularly cultivated or
-intelligent people, and that all their gilding could not quite conceal
-the ordinary material of which they were made. It certainly was
-agreeable to fare sumptuously, drive in a fine carriage, wear her best
-frock every day, and do nothing but enjoy herself. It suited her
-exactly; and soon she began to imitate the manners and conversation of
-those about her; to put on little airs and graces, use French phrases,
-crimp her hair, take in her dresses, and talk about the fashions as well
-as she could. The more she saw of Annie Moffat's pretty things, the more
-she envied her, and sighed to be rich. Home now looked bare and dismal
-as she thought of it, work grew harder than ever, and she felt that she
-was a very destitute and much-injured girl, in spite of the new gloves
-and silk stockings.
-
-She had not much time for repining, however, for the three young girls
-were busily employed in "having a good time." They shopped, walked,
-rode, and called all day; went to theatres and operas, or frolicked at
-home in the evening; for Annie had many friends, and knew how to
-entertain them. Her older sisters were very fine young ladies, and one
-was engaged, which was extremely interesting and romantic, Meg thought.
-Mr. Moffat was a fat, jolly old gentleman, who knew her father; and Mrs.
-Moffat, a fat, jolly old lady, who took as great a fancy to Meg as her
-daughter had done. Every one petted her; and "Daisy," as they called
-her, was in a fair way to have her head turned.
-
-When the evening for the "small party" came, she found that the poplin
-wouldn't do at all, for the other girls were putting on thin dresses,
-and making themselves very fine indeed; so out came the tarlatan,
-looking older, limper, and shabbier than ever beside Sallie's crisp new
-one. Meg saw the girls glance at it and then at one another, and her
-cheeks began to burn, for, with all her gentleness, she was very proud.
-No one said a word about it, but Sallie offered to dress her hair, and
-Annie to tie her sash, and Belle, the engaged sister, praised her white
-arms; but in their kindness Meg saw only pity for her poverty, and her
-heart felt very heavy as she stood by herself, while the others laughed,
-chattered, and flew about like gauzy butterflies. The hard, bitter
-feeling was getting pretty bad, when the maid brought in a box of
-flowers. Before she could speak, Annie had the cover off, and all were
-exclaiming at the lovely roses, heath, and fern within.
-
-"It's for Belle, of course; George always sends her some, but these are
-altogether ravishing," cried Annie, with a great sniff.
-
-"They are for Miss March, the man said. And here's a note," put in the
-maid, holding it to Meg.
-
-"What fun! Who are they from? Didn't know you had a lover," cried the
-girls, fluttering about Meg in a high state of curiosity and surprise.
-
-"The note is from mother, and the flowers from Laurie," said Meg simply,
-yet much gratified that he had not forgotten her.
-
-"Oh, indeed!" said Annie, with a funny look, as Meg slipped the note
-into her pocket, as a sort of talisman against envy, vanity, and false
-pride; for the few loving words had done her good, and the flowers
-cheered her up by their beauty.
-
-Feeling almost happy again, she laid by a few ferns and roses for
-herself, and quickly made up the rest in dainty bouquets for the
-breasts, hair, or skirts of her friends, offering them so prettily that
-Clara, the elder sister, told her she was "the sweetest little thing she
-ever saw;" and they looked quite charmed with her small attention.
-Somehow the kind act finished her despondency; and when all the rest
-went to show themselves to Mrs. Moffat, she saw a happy, bright-eyed
-face in the mirror, as she laid her ferns against her rippling hair, and
-fastened the roses in the dress that didn't strike her as so _very_
-shabby now.
-
-She enjoyed herself very much that evening, for she danced to her
-heart's content; every one was very kind, and she had three compliments.
-Annie made her sing, and some one said she had a remarkably fine voice;
-Major Lincoln asked who "the fresh little girl, with the beautiful
-eyes," was; and Mr. Moffat insisted on dancing with her, because she
-"didn't dawdle, but had some spring in her," as he gracefully expressed
-it. So, altogether, she had a very nice time, till she overheard a bit
-of a conversation, which disturbed her extremely. She was sitting just
-inside the conservatory, waiting for her partner to bring her an ice,
-when she heard a voice ask, on the other side of the flowery wall,--
-
-"How old is he?"
-
-"Sixteen or seventeen, I should say," replied another voice.
-
-"It would be a grand thing for one of those girls, wouldn't it? Sallie
-says they are very intimate now, and the old man quite dotes on them."
-
-"Mrs M. has made her plans, I dare say, and will play her cards well,
-early as it is. The girl evidently doesn't think of it yet," said Mrs.
-Moffat.
-
-"She told that fib about her mamma, as if she did know, and colored up
-when the flowers came, quite prettily. Poor thing! she'd be so nice if
-she was only got up in style. Do you think she'd be offended if we
-offered to lend her a dress for Thursday?" asked another voice.
-
-"She's proud, but I don't believe she'd mind, for that dowdy tarlatan is
-all she has got. She may tear it to-night, and that will be a good
-excuse for offering a decent one."
-
-"We'll see. I shall ask young Laurence, as a compliment to her, and
-we'll have fun about it afterward."
-
-                 [Illustration: Meg's partner appeared]
-
-Here Meg's partner appeared, to find her looking much flushed and rather
-agitated. She _was_ proud, and her pride was useful just then, for it
-helped her hide her mortification, anger, and disgust at what she had
-just heard; for, innocent and unsuspicious as she was, she could not
-help understanding the gossip of her friends. She tried to forget it,
-but could not, and kept repeating to herself, "Mrs. M. has made her
-plans," "that fib about her mamma," and "dowdy tarlatan," till she was
-ready to cry, and rush home to tell her troubles and ask for advice. As
-that was impossible, she did her best to seem gay; and, being rather
-excited, she succeeded so well that no one dreamed what an effort she
-was making. She was very glad when it was all over, and she was quiet in
-her bed, where she could think and wonder and fume till her head ached
-and her hot cheeks were cooled by a few natural tears. Those foolish,
-yet well-meant words, had opened a new world to Meg, and much disturbed
-the peace of the old one, in which, till now, she had lived as happily
-as a child. Her innocent friendship with Laurie was spoilt by the silly
-speeches she had overheard; her faith in her mother was a little shaken
-by the worldly plans attributed to her by Mrs. Moffat, who judged others
-by herself; and the sensible resolution to be contented with the simple
-wardrobe which suited a poor man's daughter, was weakened by the
-unnecessary pity of girls who thought a shabby dress one of the greatest
-calamities under heaven.
-
-Poor Meg had a restless night, and got up heavy-eyed, unhappy, half
-resentful toward her friends, and half ashamed of herself for not
-speaking out frankly, and setting everything right. Everybody dawdled
-that morning, and it was noon before the girls found energy enough even
-to take up their worsted work. Something in the manner of her friends
-struck Meg at once; they treated her with more respect, she thought;
-took quite a tender interest in what she said, and looked at her with
-eyes that plainly betrayed curiosity. All this surprised and flattered
-her, though she did not understand it till Miss Belle looked up from her
-writing, and said, with a sentimental air,--
-
-"Daisy, dear, I've sent an invitation to your friend, Mr. Laurence, for
-Thursday. We should like to know him, and it's only a proper compliment
-to you."
-
-Meg colored, but a mischievous fancy to tease the girls made her reply
-demurely,--
-
-"You are very kind, but I'm afraid he won't come."
-
-"Why not, _chérie_?" asked Miss Belle.
-
-"He's too old."
-
-"My child, what do you mean? What is his age, I beg to know!" cried Miss
-Clara.
-
-"Nearly seventy, I believe," answered Meg, counting stitches, to hide
-the merriment in her eyes.
-
-"You sly creature! Of course we meant the young man," exclaimed Miss
-Belle, laughing.
-
-"There isn't any; Laurie is only a little boy," and Meg laughed also at
-the queer look which the sisters exchanged as she thus described her
-supposed lover.
-
-"About your age," Nan said.
-
-"Nearer my sister Jo's; _I_ am seventeen in August," returned Meg,
-tossing her head.
-
-"It's very nice of him to send you flowers, isn't it?" said Annie,
-looking wise about nothing.
-
-"Yes, he often does, to all of us; for their house is full, and we are
-so fond of them. My mother and old Mr. Laurence are friends, you know,
-so it is quite natural that we children should play together;" and Meg
-hoped they would say no more.
-
-"It's evident Daisy isn't out yet," said Miss Clara to Belle, with a
-nod.
-
-"Quite a pastoral state of innocence all round," returned Miss Belle,
-with a shrug.
-
-"I'm going out to get some little matters for my girls; can I do
-anything for you, young ladies?" asked Mrs. Moffat, lumbering in, like
-an elephant, in silk and lace.
-
-"No, thank you, ma'am," replied Sallie. "I've got my new pink silk for
-Thursday, and don't want a thing."
-
-"Nor I,--" began Meg, but stopped, because it occurred to her that she
-_did_ want several things, and could not have them.
-
-"What shall you wear?" asked Sallie.
-
-"My old white one again, if I can mend it fit to be seen; it got sadly
-torn last night," said Meg, trying to speak quite easily, but feeling
-very uncomfortable.
-
-"Why don't you send home for another?" said Sallie, who was not an
-observing young lady.
-
-"I haven't got any other." It cost Meg an effort to say that, but Sallie
-did not see it, and exclaimed, in amiable surprise,--
-
-"Only that? How funny--" She did not finish her speech, for Belle shook
-her head at her, and broke in, saying kindly,--
-
-"Not at all; where is the use of having a lot of dresses when she isn't
-out? There's no need of sending home, Daisy, even if you had a dozen,
-for I've got a sweet blue silk laid away, which I've outgrown, and you
-shall wear it, to please me, won't you, dear?"
-
-"You are very kind, but I don't mind my old dress, if you don't; it does
-well enough for a little girl like me," said Meg.
-
-"Now do let me please myself by dressing you up in style. I admire to do
-it, and you'd be a regular little beauty, with a touch here and there. I
-sha'n't let any one see you till you are done, and then we'll burst upon
-them like Cinderella and her godmother, going to the ball," said Belle,
-in her persuasive tone.
-
-Meg couldn't refuse the offer so kindly made, for a desire to see if she
-would be "a little beauty" after touching up, caused her to accept, and
-forget all her former uncomfortable feelings towards the Moffats.
-
-On the Thursday evening, Belle shut herself up with her maid; and,
-between them, they turned Meg into a fine lady. They crimped and curled
-her hair, they polished her neck and arms with some fragrant powder,
-touched her lips with coralline salve, to make them redder, and Hortense
-would have added "a _soupçon_ of rouge," if Meg had not rebelled. They
-laced her into a sky-blue dress, which was so tight she could hardly
-breathe, and so low in the neck that modest Meg blushed at herself in
-the mirror. A set of silver filagree was added, bracelets, necklace,
-brooch, and even ear-rings, for Hortense tied them on, with a bit of
-pink silk, which did not show. A cluster of tea-rosebuds at the bosom,
-and a _ruche_, reconciled Meg to the display of her pretty white
-shoulders, and a pair of high-heeled blue silk boots satisfied the last
-wish of her heart. A laced handkerchief, a plumy fan, and a bouquet in a
-silver holder finished her off; and Miss Belle surveyed her with the
-satisfaction of a little girl with a newly dressed doll.
-
-"Mademoiselle is charmante, très jolie, is she not?" cried Hortense,
-clasping her hands in an affected rapture.
-
-"Come and show yourself," said Miss Belle, leading the way to the room
-where the others were waiting.
-
-As Meg went rustling after, with her long skirts trailing, her ear-rings
-tinkling, her curls waving, and her heart beating, she felt as if her
-"fun" had really begun at last, for the mirror had plainly told her that
-she _was_ "a little beauty." Her friends repeated the pleasing phrase
-enthusiastically; and, for several minutes, she stood, like the jackdaw
-in the fable, enjoying her borrowed plumes, while the rest chattered
-like a party of magpies.
-
-"While I dress, do you drill her, Nan, in the management of her skirt,
-and those French heels, or she will trip herself up. Take your silver
-butterfly, and catch up that long curl on the left side of her head,
-Clara, and don't any of you disturb the charming work of my hands," said
-Belle, as she hurried away, looking well pleased with her success.
-
-"I'm afraid to go down, I feel so queer and stiff and half-dressed,"
-said Meg to Sallie, as the bell rang, and Mrs. Moffat sent to ask the
-young ladies to appear at once.
-
-"You don't look a bit like yourself, but you are very nice. I'm nowhere
-beside you, for Belle has heaps of taste, and you're quite French, I
-assure you. Let your flowers hang; don't be so careful of them, and be
-sure you don't trip," returned Sallie, trying not to care that Meg was
-prettier than herself.
-
-                 [Illustration: Asked to be introduced]
-
-Keeping that warning carefully in mind, Margaret got safely down stairs,
-and sailed into the drawing-rooms, where the Moffats and a few early
-guests were assembled. She very soon discovered that there is a charm
-about fine clothes which attracts a certain class of people, and secures
-their respect. Several young ladies, who had taken no notice of her
-before, were very affectionate all of a sudden; several young gentlemen,
-who had only stared at her at the other party, now not only stared, but
-asked to be introduced, and said all manner of foolish but agreeable
-things to her; and several old ladies, who sat on sofas, and criticised
-the rest of the party, inquired who she was, with an air of interest.
-She heard Mrs. Moffat reply to one of them,--
-
-"Daisy March--father a colonel in the army--one of our first families,
-but reverses of fortune, you know; intimate friends of the Laurences;
-sweet creature, I assure you; my Ned is quite wild about her."
-
-"Dear me!" said the old lady, putting up her glass for another
-observation of Meg, who tried to look as if she had not heard, and been
-rather shocked at Mrs. Moffat's fibs.
-
-The "queer feeling" did not pass away, but she imagined herself acting
-the new part of fine lady, and so got on pretty well, though the tight
-dress gave her a side-ache, the train kept getting under her feet, and
-she was in constant fear lest her ear-rings should fly off, and get lost
-or broken. She was flirting her fan and laughing at the feeble jokes of
-a young gentleman who tried to be witty, when she suddenly stopped
-laughing and looked confused; for, just opposite, she saw Laurie. He was
-staring at her with undisguised surprise, and disapproval also, she
-thought; for, though he bowed and smiled, yet something in his honest
-eyes made her blush, and wish she had her old dress on. To complete her
-confusion, she saw Belle nudge Annie, and both glance from her to
-Laurie, who, she was happy to see, looked unusually boyish and shy.
-
-"Silly creatures, to put such thoughts into my head! I won't care for
-it, or let it change me a bit," thought Meg, and rustled across the room
-to shake hands with her friend.
-
-"I'm glad you came, I was afraid you wouldn't," she said, with her most
-grown-up air.
-
-"Jo wanted me to come, and tell her how you looked, so I did;" answered
-Laurie, without turning his eyes upon her, though he half smiled at her
-maternal tone.
-
-"What shall you tell her?" asked Meg, full of curiosity to know his
-opinion of her, yet feeling ill at ease with him, for the first time.
-
-"I shall say I didn't know you; for you look so grown-up, and unlike
-yourself, I'm quite afraid of you," he said, fumbling at his
-glove-button.
-
-"How absurd of you! The girls dressed me up for fun, and I rather like
-it. Wouldn't Jo stare if she saw me?" said Meg, bent on making him say
-whether he thought her improved or not.
-
-"Yes, I think she would," returned Laurie gravely.
-
-"Don't you like me so?" asked Meg.
-
-"No, I don't," was the blunt reply.
-
-"Why not?" in an anxious tone.
-
-He glanced at her frizzled head, bare shoulders, and fantastically
-trimmed dress, with an expression that abashed her more than his answer,
-which had not a particle of his usual politeness about it.
-
-"I don't like fuss and feathers."
-
-That was altogether too much from a lad younger than herself; and Meg
-walked away, saying petulantly,--
-
-"You are the rudest boy I ever saw."
-
-Feeling very much ruffled, she went and stood at a quiet window, to cool
-her cheeks, for the tight dress gave her an uncomfortably brilliant
-color. As she stood there, Major Lincoln passed by; and, a minute after,
-she heard him saying to his mother,--
-
-"They are making a fool of that little girl; I wanted you to see her,
-but they have spoilt her entirely; she's nothing but a doll, to-night."
-
-"Oh, dear!" sighed Meg; "I wish I'd been sensible, and worn my own
-things; then I should not have disgusted other people, or felt so
-uncomfortable and ashamed myself."
-
-She leaned her forehead on the cool pane, and stood half hidden by the
-curtains, never minding that her favorite waltz had begun, till some one
-touched her; and, turning, she saw Laurie, looking penitent, as he said,
-with his very best bow, and his hand out,--
-
-"Please forgive my rudeness, and come and dance with me."
-
-"I'm afraid it will be too disagreeable to you," said Meg, trying to
-look offended, and failing entirely.
-
-"Not a bit of it; I'm dying to do it. Come, I'll be good; I don't like
-your gown, but I do think you are--just splendid;" and he waved his
-hands, as if words failed to express his admiration.
-
-Meg smiled and relented, and whispered, as they stood waiting to catch
-the time,--
-
-"Take care my skirt don't trip you up; it's the plague of my life, and I
-was a goose to wear it."
-
-"Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful," said Laurie,
-looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of.
-
-Away they went, fleetly and gracefully; for, having practised at home,
-they were well matched, and the blithe young couple were a pleasant
-sight to see, as they twirled merrily round and round, feeling more
-friendly than ever after their small tiff.
-
-"Laurie, I want you to do me a favor; will you?" said Meg, as he stood
-fanning her, when her breath gave out, which it did very soon, though
-she would not own why.
-
-"Won't I!" said Laurie, with alacrity.
-
-"Please don't tell them at home about my dress to-night. They won't
-understand the joke, and it will worry mother."
-
-"Then why did you do it?" said Laurie's eyes, so plainly that Meg
-hastily added,--
-
-"I shall tell them, myself, all about it, and ''fess' to mother how
-silly I've been. But I'd rather do it myself; so you'll not tell, will
-you?"
-
-"I give you my word I won't; only what shall I say when they ask me?"
-
-"Just say I looked pretty well, and was having a good time."
-
-"I'll say the first, with all my heart; but how about the other? You
-don't look as if you were having a good time; are you?" and Laurie
-looked at her with an expression which made her answer, in a whisper,--
-
-"No; not just now. Don't think I'm horrid; I only wanted a little fun,
-but this sort doesn't pay, I find, and I'm getting tired of it."
-
-"Here comes Ned Moffat; what does he want?" said Laurie, knitting his
-black brows, as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a
-pleasant addition to the party.
-
-"He put his name down for three dances, and I suppose he's coming for
-them. What a bore!" said Meg, assuming a languid air, which amused
-Laurie immensely.
-
-He did not speak to her again till supper-time, when he saw her drinking
-champagne with Ned and his friend Fisher, who were behaving "like a pair
-of fools," as Laurie said to himself, for he felt a brotherly sort of
-right to watch over the Marches, and fight their battles whenever a
-defender was needed.
-
-                    [Illustration: I wouldn't, Meg]
-
-"You'll have a splitting headache to-morrow, if you drink much of that.
-I wouldn't Meg; your mother doesn't like it, you know," he whispered,
-leaning over her chair, as Ned turned to refill her glass, and Fisher
-stooped to pick up her fan.
-
-"I'm not Meg, to-night; I'm 'a doll,' who does all sorts of crazy
-things. To-morrow I shall put away my 'fuss and feathers,' and be
-desperately good again," she answered, with an affected little laugh.
-
-"Wish to-morrow was here, then," muttered Laurie, walking off,
-ill-pleased at the change he saw in her.
-
-Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did;
-after supper she undertook the German, and blundered through it, nearly
-upsetting her partner with her long skirt, and romping in a way that
-scandalized Laurie, who looked on and meditated a lecture. But he got no
-chance to deliver it, for Meg kept away from him till he came to say
-good-night.
-
-"Remember!" she said, trying to smile, for the splitting headache had
-already begun.
-
-"Silence à la mort," replied Laurie, with a melodramatic flourish, as he
-went away.
-
-This little bit of by-play excited Annie's curiosity; but Meg was too
-tired for gossip, and went to bed, feeling as if she had been to a
-masquerade, and hadn't enjoyed herself as much as she expected. She was
-sick all the next day, and on Saturday went home, quite used up with her
-fortnight's fun, and feeling that she had "sat in the lap of luxury"
-long enough.
-
-"It does seem pleasant to be quiet, and not have company manners on all
-the time. Home _is_ a nice place, though it isn't splendid," said Meg,
-looking about her with a restful expression, as she sat with her mother
-and Jo on the Sunday evening.
-
-"I'm glad to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid home would seem
-dull and poor to you, after your fine quarters," replied her mother, who
-had given her many anxious looks that day; for motherly eyes are quick
-to see any change in children's faces.
-
-Meg had told her adventures gayly, and said over and over what a
-charming time she had had; but something still seemed to weigh upon her
-spirits, and, when the younger girls were gone to bed, she sat
-thoughtfully staring at the fire, saying little, and looking worried. As
-the clock struck nine, and Jo proposed bed, Meg suddenly left her chair,
-and, taking Beth's stool, leaned her elbows on her mother's knee, saying
-bravely,--
-
-"Marmee, I want to ''fess.'"
-
-"I thought so; what is it, dear?"
-
-"Shall I go away?" asked Jo discreetly.
-
-"Of course not; don't I always tell you everything? I was ashamed to
-speak of it before the children, but I want you to know all the dreadful
-things I did at the Moffat's."
-
-"We are prepared," said Mrs. March, smiling, but looking a little
-anxious.
-
-"I told you they dressed me up, but I didn't tell you that they powdered
-and squeezed and frizzled, and made me look like a fashion-plate. Laurie
-thought I wasn't proper; I know he did, though he didn't say so, and one
-man called me 'a doll.' I knew it was silly, but they flattered me, and
-said I was a beauty, and quantities of nonsense, so I let them make a
-fool of me."
-
-"Is that all?" asked Jo, as Mrs. March looked silently at the downcast
-face of her pretty daughter, and could not find it in her heart to blame
-her little follies.
-
-"No; I drank champagne and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether
-abominable," said Meg self-reproachfully.
-
-"There is something more, I think;" and Mrs. March smoothed the soft
-cheek, which suddenly grew rosy, as Meg answered slowly,--
-
-"Yes; it's very silly, but I want to tell it, because I hate to have
-people say and think such things about us and Laurie."
-
-Then she told the various bits of gossip she had heard at the Moffats;
-and, as she spoke, Jo saw her mother fold her lips tightly, as if ill
-pleased that such ideas should be put into Meg's innocent mind.
-
-"Well, if that isn't the greatest rubbish I ever heard," cried Jo
-indignantly. "Why didn't you pop out and tell them so, on the spot?"
-
-"I couldn't, it was so embarrassing for me. I couldn't help hearing, at
-first, and then I was so angry and ashamed, I didn't remember that I
-ought to go away."
-
-"Just wait till _I_ see Annie Moffat, and I'll show you how to settle
-such ridiculous stuff. The idea of having 'plans,' and being kind to
-Laurie, because he's rich, and may marry us by and by! Won't he shout,
-when I tell him what those silly things say about us poor children?" and
-Jo laughed, as if, on second thoughts, the thing struck her as a good
-joke.
-
-"If you tell Laurie, I'll never forgive you! She mustn't, must she,
-mother?" said Meg, looking distressed.
-
-"No; never repeat that foolish gossip, and forget it as soon as you
-can," said Mrs. March gravely. "I was very unwise to let you go among
-people of whom I know so little,--kind, I dare say, but worldly,
-ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people. I am more
-sorry than I can express for the mischief this visit may have done you,
-Meg."
-
-"Don't be sorry, I won't let it hurt me; I'll forget all the bad, and
-remember only the good; for I did enjoy a great deal, and thank you very
-much for letting me go. I'll not be sentimental or dissatisfied, mother;
-I know I'm a silly little girl, and I'll stay with you till I'm fit to
-take care of myself. But it _is_ nice to be praised and admired, and I
-can't help saying I like it," said Meg, looking half ashamed of the
-confession.
-
-"That is perfectly natural, and quite harmless, if the liking does not
-become a passion, and lead one to do foolish or unmaidenly things. Learn
-to know and value the praise which is worth having, and to excite the
-admiration of excellent people by being modest as well as pretty, Meg."
-
-Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind
-her, looking both interested and a little perplexed; for it was a new
-thing to see Meg blushing and talking about admiration, lovers, and
-things of that sort; and Jo felt as if, during that fortnight, her
-sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a
-world where she could not follow.
-
-"Mother, do you have 'plans,' as Mrs. Moffat said?" asked Meg bashfully.
-
-"Yes, my dear, I have a great many; all mothers do, but mine differ
-somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect. I will tell you some of them,
-for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and
-heart of yours right, on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but
-not too young to understand me; and mothers' lips are the fittest to
-speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time,
-perhaps, so listen to my 'plans,' and help me carry them out, if they
-are good."
-
-Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they
-were about to join in some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each,
-and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her
-serious yet cheery way,--
-
-      [Illustration: Holding a hand of each, Mrs. March said, &c.]
-
-"I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be
-admired, loved, and respected; to have a happy youth, to be well and
-wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care
-and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen
-by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a
-woman; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience.
-It is natural to think of it, Meg; right to hope and wait for it, and
-wise to prepare for it; so that, when the happy time comes, you may
-feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I _am_
-ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world,--marry
-rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which
-are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious
-thing,--and, when well used, a noble thing,--but I never want you to
-think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you
-poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on
-thrones, without self-respect and peace."
-
-"Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put
-themselves forward," sighed Meg.
-
-"Then we'll be old maids," said Jo stoutly.
-
-"Right, Jo; better be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly
-girls, running about to find husbands," said Mrs. March decidedly.
-"Don't be troubled, Meg; poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of
-the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so
-love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these
-things to time; make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes
-of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are
-not. One thing remember, my girls: mother is always ready to be your
-confidant, father to be your friend; and both of us trust and hope that
-our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort
-of our lives."
-
-"We will, Marmee, we will!" cried both, with all their hearts, as she
-bade them good-night.
-
-
-
-
-                                   X.
-
-                          THE P. C. AND P. O.
-
-
-As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the
-lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sorts.
-The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the
-little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, "I'd know
-which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny;" and so
-she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters.
-Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange-tree in it.
-Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying
-experiments; this year it was to be a plantation of sun-flowers, the
-seeds of which cheerful and aspiring plant were to feed "Aunt
-Cockle-top" and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned, fragrant
-flowers in her garden,--sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks,
-pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the bird, and catnip for
-the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers,--rather small and earwiggy, but
-very pretty to look at,--with honeysuckles and morning-glories hanging
-their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it; tall,
-white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants
-as would consent to blossom there.
-
-Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower-hunts employed the fine
-days; and for rainy ones, they had house diversions,--some old, some
-new,--all more or less original. One of these was the "P. C."; for, as
-secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one;
-and, as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the
-Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a
-year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which
-occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in
-a row before a table, on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with
-a big "P. C." in different colors on each, and the weekly newspaper,
-called "The Pickwick Portfolio," to which all contributed something;
-while Jo, who revelled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven
-o'clock, the four members ascended to the club-room, tied their badges
-round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as
-the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick; Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus
-Snodgrass; Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy,
-who was always trying to do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel Winkle.
-Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original
-tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which
-they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and
-short-comings.
-
-                      [Illustration: Mr. Pickwick]
-
-On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any
-glasses, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and, having stared hard at Mr.
-Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged himself
-properly, began to read:--
-
-
-                        The Pickwick Portfolio.
-
-                              MAY 20, 18--
-
-                             Poet's Corner.
-
-                            ANNIVERSARY ODE.
-
-        Again we meet to celebrate
-          With badge and solemn rite,
-        Our fifty-second anniversary,
-          In Pickwick Hall, to-night.
-
-        We all are here in perfect health,
-          None gone from our small band;
-        Again we see each well-known face,
-          And press each friendly hand.
-
-        Our Pickwick, always at his post,
-          With reverence we greet,
-        As, spectacles on nose, he reads
-          Our well-filled weekly sheet.
-
-        Although he suffers from a cold,
-          We joy to hear him speak,
-        For words of wisdom from him fall,
-          In spite of croak or squeak.
-
-        Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,
-          With elephantine grace,
-        And beams upon the company,
-          With brown and jovial face.
-
-        Poetic fire lights up his eye,
-          He struggles 'gainst his lot.
-        Behold ambition on his brow,
-          And on his nose a blot!
-
-        Next our peaceful Tupman comes,
-          So rosy, plump, and sweet.
-        Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
-          And tumbles off his seat.
-
-        Prim little Winkle too is here,
-          With every hair in place,
-        A model of propriety,
-          Though he hates to wash his face.
-
-        The year is gone, we still unite
-          To joke and laugh and read,
-        And tread the path of literature
-          That doth to glory lead.
-
-        Long may our paper prosper well,
-          Our club unbroken be,
-        And coming years their blessings pour
-          On the useful, gay "P. C."
-
-                               A. SNODGRASS.
-
-
-                          THE MASKED MARRIAGE.
-
-                           A TALE OF VENICE.
-
-    Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its
-    lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the
-    stately halls of Count de Adelon. Knights and ladies, elves and
-    pages, monks and flower-girls, all mingled gayly in the dance.
-    Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air; and so with mirth
-    and music the masquerade went on.
-
-    "Has your Highness seen the Lady Viola to-night?" asked a
-    gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall
-    upon his arm.
-
-    "Yes; is she not lovely, though so sad! Her dress is well
-    chosen, too, for in a week she weds Count Antonio, whom she
-    passionately hates."
-
-    "By my faith, I envy him. Yonder he comes, arrayed like a
-    bridegroom, except the black mask. When that is off we shall see
-    how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though
-    her stern father bestows her hand," returned the troubadour.
-
-    "'Tis whispered that she loves the young English artist who
-    haunts her steps, and is spurned by the old count," said the
-    lady, as they joined the dance.
-
-    The revel was at its height when a priest appeared, and,
-    withdrawing the young pair to an alcove hung with purple velvet,
-    he motioned them to kneel. Instant silence fell upon the gay
-    throng; and not a sound, but the dash of fountains or the rustle
-    of orange-groves sleeping in the moonlight, broke the hush, as
-    Count de Adelon spoke thus:--
-
-    "My lords and ladies, pardon the ruse by which I have gathered
-    you here to witness the marriage of my daughter. Father, we wait
-    your services."
-
-    All eyes turned toward the bridal party, and a low murmur of
-    amazement went through the throng, for neither bride nor groom
-    removed their masks. Curiosity and wonder possessed all hearts,
-    but respect restrained all tongues till the holy rite was over.
-    Then the eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding an
-    explanation.
-
-    "Gladly would I give it if I could; but I only know that it was
-    the whim of my timid Viola, and I yielded to it. Now, my
-    children, let the play end. Unmask, and receive my blessing."
-
-    But neither bent the knee; for the young bridegroom replied, in
-    a tone that startled all listeners, as the mask fell, disclosing
-    the noble face of Ferdinand Devereux, the artist lover; and,
-    leaning on the breast where now flashed the star of an English
-    earl, was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty.
-
-    "My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your daughter when I
-    could boast as high a name and vast a fortune as the Count
-    Antonio. I can do more; for even your ambitious soul cannot
-    refuse the Earl of Devereux and De Vere, when he gives his
-    ancient name and boundless wealth in return for the beloved hand
-    of this fair lady, now my wife."
-
-    The count stood like one changed to stone; and, turning to the
-    bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with a gay smile of triumph,
-    "To you, my gallant friends, I can only wish that your wooing
-    may prosper as mine has done; and that you may all win as fair a
-    bride as I have, by this masked marriage."
-
-                                                        S. PICKWICK.
-
-                   *       *       *       *       *
-
-    Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel? It is full of unruly
-    members.
-
-                   *       *       *       *       *
-
-                        THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH.
-
-    Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed in his garden,
-    and after a while it sprouted and became a vine, and bore many
-    squashes. One day in October, when they were ripe, he picked one
-    and took it to market. A grocer-man bought and put it in his
-    shop. That same morning, a little girl, in a brown hat and blue
-    dress, with a round face and snub nose, went and bought it for
-    her mother. She lugged it home, cut it up, and boiled it in the
-    big pot; mashed some of it, with salt and butter, for dinner;
-    and to the rest she added a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons
-    of sugar, nutmeg, and some crackers; put it in a deep dish, and
-    baked it till it was brown and nice; and next day it was eaten
-    by a family named March.
-                                                          T. TUPMAN.
-
-                   *       *       *       *       *
-
-    MR. PICKWICK, _Sir_:--
-
-    I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner I mean is a man
-    named Winkle who makes trouble in his club by laughing and
-    sometimes won't write his piece in this fine paper I hope you
-    will pardon his badness and let him send a French fable because
-    he can't write out of his head as he has so many lessons to do
-    and no brains in future I will try to take time by the fetlock
-    and prepare some work which will be all _commy la fo_ that means
-    all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time
-
-    Yours respectably,                                    N. WINKLE.
-
-    [The above is a manly and handsome acknowledgment of past
-    misdemeanors. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would
-    be well.]
-
-
-                              A SAD ACCIDENT.
-
-    On Friday last, we were startled by a violent shock in our
-    basement, followed by cries of distress. On rushing, in a body,
-    to the cellar, we discovered our beloved President prostrate
-    upon the floor, having tripped and fallen while getting wood for
-    domestic purposes. A perfect scene of ruin met our eyes; for in
-    his fall Mr. Pickwick had plunged his head and shoulders into a
-    tub of water, upset a keg of soft soap upon his manly form, and
-    torn his garments badly. On being removed from this perilous
-    situation, it was discovered that he had suffered no injury but
-    several bruises; and, we are happy to add, is now doing well.
-                                                                 ED.
-
-    ***************************************************************
-    *                                                             *
-    *                     THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT.                 *
-    *                                                             *
-    * It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious  *
-    * disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs. Snowball Pat    *
-    * Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large     *
-    * circle of warm and admiring friends; for her beauty         *
-    * attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues endeared her to  *
-    * all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole        *
-    * community.                                                  *
-    *                                                             *
-    * When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the   *
-    * butcher's cart; and it is feared that some villain, tempted *
-    * by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed, but no  *
-    * trace of her has been discovered; and we relinquish all     *
-    * hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, *
-    * and weep for her as one lost to us forever.                 *
-    *                                                             *
-    ***************************************************************
-
-                   *       *       *       *       *
-
-    A sympathizing friend sends the following gem:--
-
-
-                                A LAMENT
-
-                           FOR S. B. PAT PAW.
-
-        We mourn the loss of our little pet,
-          And sigh o'er her hapless fate,
-        For never more by the fire she'll sit,
-          Nor play by the old green gate.
-
-        The little grave where her infant sleeps,
-          Is 'neath the chestnut tree;
-        But o'er _her_ grave we may not weep,
-          We know not where it may be.
-
-        Her empty bed, her idle ball,
-          Will never see her more;
-        No gentle tap, no loving purr
-          Is heard at the parlor-door.
-
-        Another cat comes after her mice,
-          A cat with a dirty face;
-        But she does not hunt as our darling did,
-          Nor play with her airy grace.
-
-        Her stealthy paws tread the very hall
-          Where Snowball used to play,
-        But she only spits at the dogs our pet
-          So gallantly drove away.
-
-        She is useful and mild, and does her best,
-          But she is not fair to see;
-        And we cannot give her your place, dear,
-          Nor worship her as we worship thee.
-                                            A. S.
-
-
-                            ADVERTISEMENTS.
-
-    MISS ORANTHY BLUGGAGE, the accomplished Strong-Minded Lecturer,
-    will deliver her famous Lecture on "WOMAN AND HER POSITION," at
-    Pickwick Hall, next Saturday Evening, after the usual
-    performances.
-
-    A WEEKLY MEETING will be held at Kitchen Place, to teach young
-    ladies how to cook. Hannah Brown will preside; and all are
-    invited to attend.
-
-    THE DUSTPAN SOCIETY will meet on Wednesday next, and parade in
-    the upper story of the Club House. All members to appear in
-    uniform and shoulder their brooms at nine precisely.
-
-    MRS. BETH BOUNCER will open her new assortment of Doll's
-    Millinery next week. The latest Paris Fashions have arrived, and
-    orders are respectfully solicited.
-
-    A NEW PLAY will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course
-    of a few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen on the
-    American stage. "THE GREEK SLAVE, or Constantine the Avenger,"
-    is the name of this thrilling drama!!!
-
-
-                                 HINTS.
-
-    If S. P. didn't use so much soap on his hands, he wouldn't
-    always be late at breakfast. A. S. is requested not to whistle
-    in the street. T. T. please don't forget Amy's napkin. N. W.
-    must not fret because his dress has not nine tucks.
-
-
-                             WEEKLY REPORT.
-
-        Meg--Good.
-        Jo--Bad.
-        Beth--Very good.
-        Amy--Middling.
-
-
-As the President finished reading the paper (which I beg leave to assure
-my readers is a _bona fide_ copy of one written by _bona fide_ girls
-once upon a time), a round of applause followed, and then Mr. Snodgrass
-rose to make a proposition.
-
-"Mr. President and gentlemen," he began, assuming a parliamentary
-attitude and tone, "I wish to propose the admission of a new
-member,--one who highly deserves the honor, would be deeply grateful for
-it, and would add immensely to the spirit of the club, the literary
-value of the paper, and be no end jolly and nice. I propose Mr. Theodore
-Laurence as an honorary member of the P. C. Come now, do have him."
-
-Jo's sudden change of tone made the girls laugh; but all looked rather
-anxious, and no one said a word, as Snodgrass took his seat.
-
-"We'll put it to vote," said the President. "All in favor of this motion
-please to manifest it by saying 'Ay.'"
-
-A loud response from Snodgrass, followed, to everybody's surprise, by a
-timid one from Beth.
-
-"Contrary minded say 'No.'"
-
-Meg and Amy were contrary minded; and Mr. Winkle rose to say, with great
-elegance, "We don't wish any boys; they only joke and bounce about. This
-is a ladies' club, and we wish to be private and proper."
-
-"I'm afraid he'll laugh at our paper, and make fun of us afterward,"
-observed Pickwick, pulling the little curl on her forehead, as she
-always did when doubtful.
-
-Up rose Snodgrass, very much in earnest. "Sir, I give you my word as a
-gentleman, Laurie won't do anything of the sort. He likes to write, and
-he'll give a tone to our contributions, and keep us from being
-sentimental, don't you see? We can do so little for him, and he does so
-much for us, I think the least we can do is to offer him a place here,
-and make him welcome if he comes."
-
-This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman to his feet,
-looking as if he had quite made up his mind.
-
-"Yes, we ought to do it, even if we _are_ afraid. I say he _may_ come,
-and his grandpa, too, if he likes."
-
-This spirited burst from Beth electrified the club, and Jo left her
-seat to shake hands approvingly. "Now then, vote again. Everybody
-remember it's our Laurie, and say 'Ay!'" cried Snodgrass excitedly.
-
-"Ay! ay! ay!" replied three voices at once.
-
-"Good! Bless you! Now, as there's nothing like 'taking time by the
-_fetlock_,' as Winkle characteristically observes, allow me to present
-the new member;" and, to the dismay of the rest of the club, Jo threw
-open the door of the closet, and displayed Laurie sitting on a rag-bag,
-flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter.
-
-          [Illustration: Jo threw open the door of the closet]
-
-"You rogue! you traitor! Jo, how could you?" cried the three girls, as
-Snodgrass led her friend triumphantly forth; and, producing both a chair
-and a badge, installed him in a jiffy.
-
-"The coolness of you two rascals is amazing," began Mr. Pickwick, trying
-to get up an awful frown, and only succeeding in producing an amiable
-smile. But the new member was equal to the occasion; and, rising, with a
-grateful salutation to the Chair, said, in the most engaging manner,
-"Mr. President and ladies,--I beg pardon, gentlemen,--allow me to
-introduce myself as Sam Weller, the very humble servant of the club."
-
-"Good! good!" cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the old warming-pan
-on which she leaned.
-
-"My faithful friend and noble patron," continued Laurie, with a wave of
-the hand, "who has so flatteringly presented me, is not to be blamed for
-the base stratagem of to-night. I planned it, and she only gave in after
-lots of teasing."
-
-"Come now, don't lay it all on yourself; you know I proposed the
-cupboard," broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the joke amazingly.
-
-"Never you mind what she says. I'm the wretch that did it, sir," said
-the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. "But on my
-honor, I never will do so again, and henceforth _dewote_ myself to the
-interest of this immortal club."
-
-"Hear! hear!" cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warming-pan like a
-cymbal.
-
-"Go on, go on!" added Winkle and Tupman, while the President bowed
-benignly.
-
-"I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitude for the
-honor done me, and as a means of promoting friendly relations between
-adjoining nations, I have set up a post-office in the hedge in the lower
-corner of the garden; a fine, spacious building, with padlocks on the
-doors, and every convenience for the mails,--also the females, if I may
-be allowed the expression. It's the old martin-house; but I've stopped
-up the door, and made the roof open, so it will hold all sorts of
-things, and save our valuable time. Letters, manuscripts, books, and
-bundles can be passed in there; and, as each nation has a key, it will
-be uncommonly nice, I fancy. Allow me to present the club key; and,
-with many thanks for your favor, take my seat."
-
-Great applause as Mr. Weller deposited a little key on the table, and
-subsided; the warming-pan clashed and waved wildly, and it was some time
-before order could be restored. A long discussion followed, and every
-one came out surprising, for every one did her best; so it was an
-unusually lively meeting, and did not adjourn till a late hour, when it
-broke up with three shrill cheers for the new member.
-
-No one ever regretted the admittance of Sam Weller, for a more devoted,
-well-behaved, and jovial member no club could have. He certainly did add
-"spirit" to the meetings, and "a tone" to the paper; for his orations
-convulsed his hearers, and his contributions were excellent, being
-patriotic, classical, comical, or dramatic, but never sentimental. Jo
-regarded them as worthy of Bacon, Milton, or Shakespeare; and remodelled
-her own works with good effect, she thought.
-
-The P. O. was a capital little institution, and flourished wonderfully,
-for nearly as many queer things passed through it as through the real
-office. Tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden-seeds and long
-letters, music and gingerbread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings and
-puppies. The old gentleman liked the fun, and amused himself by sending
-odd bundles, mysterious messages, and funny telegrams; and his gardener,
-who was smitten with Hannah's charms, actually sent a love-letter to
-Jo's care. How they laughed when the secret came out, never dreaming how
-many love-letters that little post-office would hold in the years to
-come!
-
-
-
-
-           [Illustration: Jo spent the morning on the river]
-
-                                  XI.
-
-                              EXPERIMENTS.
-
-
-"The first of June! The Kings are off to the seashore to-morrow, and I'm
-free. Three months' vacation,--how I shall enjoy it!" exclaimed Meg,
-coming home one warm day to find Jo laid upon the sofa in an unusual
-state of exhaustion, while Beth took off her dusty boots, and Amy made
-lemonade for the refreshment of the whole party.
-
-"Aunt March went to-day, for which, oh, be joyful!" said Jo. "I was
-mortally afraid she'd ask me to go with her; if she had, I should have
-felt as if I ought to do it; but Plumfield is about as gay as a
-churchyard, you know, and I'd rather be excused. We had a flurry getting
-the old lady off, and I had a fright every time she spoke to me, for I
-was in such a hurry to be through that I was uncommonly helpful and
-sweet, and feared she'd find it impossible to part from me. I quaked
-till she was fairly in the carriage, and had a final fright, for, as it
-drove off, she popped out her head, saying, 'Josy-phine, won't you--?'
-I didn't hear any more, for I basely turned and fled; I did actually
-run, and whisked round the corner, where I felt safe."
-
-"Poor old Jo! she came in looking as if bears were after her," said
-Beth, as she cuddled her sister's feet with a motherly air.
-
-"Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?" observed Amy, tasting
-her mixture critically.
-
-"She means _vampire_, not sea-weed; but it doesn't matter; it's too warm
-to be particular about one's parts of speech," murmured Jo.
-
-"What shall you do all your vacation?" asked Amy, changing the subject,
-with tact.
-
-"I shall lie abed late, and do nothing," replied Meg, from the depths of
-the rocking-chair. "I've been routed up early all winter, and had to
-spend my days working for other people; so now I'm going to rest and
-revel to my heart's content."
-
-"No," said Jo; "that dozy way wouldn't suit me. I've laid in a heap of
-books, and I'm going to improve my shining hours reading on my perch in
-the old apple-tree, when I'm not having l------"
-
-"Don't say 'larks!'" implored Amy, as a return snub for the "samphire"
-correction.
-
-"I'll say 'nightingales,' then, with Laurie; that's proper and
-appropriate, since he's a warbler."
-
-"Don't let us do any lessons, Beth, for a while, but play all the time,
-and rest, as the girls mean to," proposed Amy.
-
-"Well, I will, if mother doesn't mind. I want to learn some new songs,
-and my children need fitting up for the summer; they are dreadfully out
-of order, and really suffering for clothes."
-
-"May we, mother?" asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing, in
-what they called "Marmee's corner."
-
-"You may try your experiment for a week, and see how you like it. I
-think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as
-bad as all work and no play."
-
-"Oh, dear, no! it will be delicious, I'm sure," said Meg complacently.
-
-"I now propose a toast, as my 'friend and pardner, Sairy Gamp,' says.
-Fun forever, and no grubbing!" cried Jo, rising, glass in hand, as the
-lemonade went round.
-
-They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging for the
-rest of the day. Next morning, Meg did not appear till ten o'clock; her
-solitary breakfast did not taste nice, and the room seemed lonely and
-untidy; for Jo had not filled the vases, Beth had not dusted, and Amy's
-books lay scattered about. Nothing was neat and pleasant but "Marmee's
-corner," which looked as usual; and there Meg sat, to "rest and read,"
-which meant yawn, and imagine what pretty summer dresses she would get
-with her salary. Jo spent the morning on the river, with Laurie, and the
-afternoon reading and crying over "The Wide, Wide World," up in the
-apple-tree. Beth began by rummaging everything out of the big closet,
-where her family resided; but, getting tired before half done, she left
-her establishment topsy-turvy, and went to her music, rejoicing that she
-had no dishes to wash. Amy arranged her bower, put on her best white
-frock, smoothed her curls, and sat down to draw, under the honeysuckles,
-hoping some one would see and inquire who the young artist was. As no
-one appeared but an inquisitive daddy-long-legs, who examined her work
-with interest, she went to walk, got caught in a shower, and came home
-dripping.
-
-                  [Illustration: Amy sat down to draw]
-
-At tea-time they compared notes, and all agreed that it had been a
-delightful, though unusually long day. Meg, who went shopping in the
-afternoon, and got a "sweet blue muslin," had discovered, after she had
-cut the breadths off, that it wouldn't wash, which mishap made her
-slightly cross. Jo had burnt the skin off her nose boating, and got a
-raging headache by reading too long. Beth was worried by the confusion
-of her closet, and the difficulty of learning three or four songs at
-once; and Amy deeply regretted the damage done her frock, for Katy
-Brown's party was to be the next day; and now, like Flora McFlimsey, she
-had "nothing to wear." But these were mere trifles; and they assured
-their mother that the experiment was working finely. She smiled, said
-nothing, and, with Hannah's help, did their neglected work, keeping home
-pleasant, and the domestic machinery running smoothly. It was
-astonishing what a peculiar and uncomfortable state of things was
-produced by the "resting and revelling" process. The days kept getting
-longer and longer; the weather was unusually variable, and so were
-tempers; an unsettled feeling possessed every one, and Satan found
-plenty of mischief for the idle hands to do. As the height of luxury,
-Meg put out some of her sewing, and then found time hang so heavily that
-she fell to snipping and spoiling her clothes, in her attempts to
-furbish them up à la Moffat. Jo read till her eyes gave out, and she was
-sick of books; got so fidgety that even good-natured Laurie had a
-quarrel with her, and so reduced in spirits that she desperately wished
-she had gone with Aunt March. Beth got on pretty well, for she was
-constantly forgetting that it was to be _all play, and no work_, and
-fell back into her old ways now and then; but something in the air
-affected her, and, more than once, her tranquillity was much disturbed;
-so much so, that, on one occasion, she actually shook poor dear Joanna,
-and told her she was "a fright." Amy fared worst of all, for her
-resources were small; and when her sisters left her to amuse and care
-for herself, she soon found that accomplished and important little self
-a great burden. She didn't like dolls, fairy-tales were childish, and
-one couldn't draw all the time; tea-parties didn't amount to much,
-neither did picnics, unless very well conducted. "If one could have a
-fine house, full of nice girls, or go travelling, the summer would be
-delightful; but to stay at home with three selfish sisters and a
-grown-up boy was enough to try the patience of a Boaz," complained Miss
-Malaprop, after several days devoted to pleasure, fretting, and _ennui_.
-
-No one would own that they were tired of the experiment; but, by Friday
-night, each acknowledged to herself that she was glad the week was
-nearly done. Hoping to impress the lesson more deeply, Mrs. March, who
-had a good deal of humor, resolved to finish off the trial in an
-appropriate manner; so she gave Hannah a holiday, and let the girls
-enjoy the full effect of the play system.
-
-When they got up on Saturday morning, there was no fire in the kitchen,
-no breakfast in the dining-room, and no mother anywhere to be seen.
-
-"Mercy on us! what _has_ happened?" cried Jo, staring about her in
-dismay.
-
-Meg ran upstairs, and soon came back again, looking relieved, but rather
-bewildered, and a little ashamed.
-
-"Mother isn't sick, only very tired, and she says she is going to stay
-quietly in her room all day, and let us do the best we can. It's a very
-queer thing for her to do, she doesn't act a bit like herself; but she
-says it has been a hard week for her, so we mustn't grumble, but take
-care of ourselves."
-
-"That's easy enough, and I like the idea; I'm aching for something to
-do--that is, some new amusement, you know," added Jo quickly.
-
-In fact it _was_ an immense relief to them all to have a little work,
-and they took hold with a will, but soon realized the truth of Hannah's
-saying, "Housekeeping ain't no joke." There was plenty of food in the
-larder, and, while Beth and Amy set the table, Meg and Jo got breakfast,
-wondering, as they did so, why servants ever talked about hard work.
-
-"I shall take some up to mother, though she said we were not to think of
-her, for she'd take care of herself," said Meg, who presided, and felt
-quite matronly behind the teapot.
-
-So a tray was fitted out before any one began, and taken up, with the
-cook's compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelette
-scorched, and the biscuits speckled with saleratus; but Mrs. March
-received her repast with thanks, and laughed heartily over it after Jo
-was gone.
-
-"Poor little souls, they will have a hard time, I'm afraid; but they
-won't suffer, and it will do them good," she said, producing the more
-palatable viands with which she had provided herself, and disposing of
-the bad breakfast, so that their feelings might not be hurt,--a motherly
-little deception, for which they were grateful.
-
-Many were the complaints below, and great the chagrin of the head cook
-at her failures. "Never mind, I'll get the dinner, and be servant; you
-be mistress, keep your hands nice, see company, and give orders," said
-Jo, who knew still less than Meg about culinary affairs.
-
-This obliging offer was gladly accepted; and Margaret retired to the
-parlor, which she hastily put in order by whisking the litter under the
-sofa, and shutting the blinds, to save the trouble of dusting. Jo, with
-perfect faith in her own powers, and a friendly desire to make up the
-quarrel, immediately put a note in the office, inviting Laurie to
-dinner.
-
-"You'd better see what you have got before you think of having company,"
-said Meg, when informed of the hospitable but rash act.
-
-"Oh, there's corned beef and plenty of potatoes; and I shall get some
-asparagus, and a lobster, 'for a relish,' as Hannah says. We'll have
-lettuce, and make a salad. I don't know how, but the book tells. I'll
-have blanc-mange and strawberries for dessert; and coffee, too, if you
-want to be elegant."
-
-"Don't try too many messes, Jo, for you can't make anything but
-gingerbread and molasses candy, fit to eat. I wash my hands of the
-dinner-party; and, since you have asked Laurie on your own
-responsibility, you may just take care of him."
-
-"I don't want you to do anything but be civil to him, and help to the
-pudding. You'll give me your advice if I get in a muddle, won't you?"
-asked Jo, rather hurt.
-
-"Yes; but I don't know much, except about bread, and a few trifles. You
-had better ask mother's leave before you order anything," returned Meg
-prudently.
-
-"Of course I shall; I'm not a fool," and Jo went off in a huff at the
-doubts expressed of her powers.
-
-"Get what you like, and don't disturb me; I'm going out to dinner, and
-can't worry about things at home," said Mrs. March, when Jo spoke to
-her. "I never enjoyed housekeeping, and I'm going to take a vacation
-to-day, and read, write, go visiting, and amuse myself."
-
-The unusual spectacle of her busy mother rocking comfortably, and
-reading, early in the morning, made Jo feel as if some natural
-phenomenon had occurred, for an eclipse, an earthquake, or a volcanic
-eruption would hardly have seemed stranger.
-
-"Everything is out of sorts, somehow," she said to herself, going down
-stairs. "There's Beth crying; that's a sure sign that something is wrong
-with this family. If Amy is bothering, I'll shake her."
-
-Feeling very much out of sorts herself, Jo hurried into the parlor to
-find Beth sobbing over Pip, the canary, who lay dead in the cage, with
-his little claws pathetically extended, as if imploring the food for
-want of which he had died.
-
-"It's all my fault--I forgot him--there isn't a seed or a drop left. O
-Pip! O Pip! how could I be so cruel to you?" cried Beth, taking the poor
-thing in her hands, and trying to restore him.
-
-                     [Illustration: O Pip! O Pip!]
-
-Jo peeped into his half-open eye, felt his little heart, and finding him
-stiff and cold, shook her head, and offered her domino-box for a coffin.
-
-"Put him in the oven, and maybe he will get warm and revive," said Amy
-hopefully.
-
-"He's been starved, and he sha'n't be baked, now he's dead. I'll make
-him a shroud, and he shall be buried in the garden; and I'll never have
-another bird, never, my Pip! for I am too bad to own one," murmured
-Beth, sitting on the floor with her pet folded in her hands.
-
-"The funeral shall be this afternoon, and we will all go. Now, don't
-cry, Bethy; it's a pity, but nothing goes right this week, and Pip has
-had the worst of the experiment. Make the shroud, and lay him in my box;
-and, after the dinner-party, we'll have a nice little funeral," said Jo,
-beginning to feel as if she had undertaken a good deal.
-
-Leaving the others to console Beth, she departed to the kitchen, which
-was in a most discouraging state of confusion. Putting on a big apron,
-she fell to work, and got the dishes piled up ready for washing, when
-she discovered that the fire was out.
-
-"Here's a sweet prospect!" muttered Jo, slamming the stove-door open,
-and poking vigorously among the cinders.
-
-Having rekindled the fire, she thought she would go to market while the
-water heated. The walk revived her spirits; and, flattering herself that
-she had made good bargains, she trudged home again, after buying a very
-young lobster, some very old asparagus, and two boxes of acid
-strawberries. By the time she got cleared up, the dinner arrived, and
-the stove was red-hot. Hannah had left a pan of bread to rise, Meg had
-worked it up early, set it on the hearth for a second rising, and
-forgotten it. Meg was entertaining Sallie Gardiner in the parlor, when
-the door flew open, and a floury, crocky, flushed, and dishevelled
-figure appeared, demanding tartly,--
-
-"I say, isn't bread 'riz' enough when it runs over the pans?"
-
-Sallie began to laugh; but Meg nodded, and lifted her eyebrows as high
-as they would go, which caused the apparition to vanish, and put the
-sour bread into the oven without further delay. Mrs. March went out,
-after peeping here and there to see how matters went, also saying a word
-of comfort to Beth, who sat making a winding-sheet, while the dear
-departed lay in state in the domino-box. A strange sense of helplessness
-fell upon the girls as the gray bonnet vanished round the corner; and
-despair seized them, when, a few minutes later, Miss Crocker appeared,
-and said she'd come to dinner. Now, this lady was a thin, yellow
-spinster, with a sharp nose and inquisitive eyes, who saw everything,
-and gossiped about all she saw. They disliked her, but had been taught
-to be kind to her, simply because she was old and poor, and had few
-friends. So Meg gave her the easy-chair, and tried to entertain her,
-while she asked questions, criticised everything, and told stories of
-the people whom she knew.
-
-Language cannot describe the anxieties, experiences, and exertions which
-Jo underwent that morning; and the dinner she served up became a
-standing joke. Fearing to ask any more advice, she did her best alone,
-and discovered that something more than energy and good-will is
-necessary to make a cook. She boiled the asparagus for an hour, and was
-grieved to find the heads cooked off and the stalks harder than ever.
-The bread burnt black; for the salad-dressing so aggravated her, that
-she let everything else go till she had convinced herself that she could
-not make it fit to eat. The lobster was a scarlet mystery to her, but
-she hammered and poked, till it was unshelled, and its meagre
-proportions concealed in a grove of lettuce-leaves. The potatoes had to
-be hurried, not to keep the asparagus waiting, and were not done at
-last. The blanc-mange was lumpy, and the strawberries not as ripe as
-they looked, having been skilfully "deaconed."
-
-"Well, they can eat beef, and bread and butter, if they are hungry; only
-it's mortifying to have to spend your whole morning for nothing,"
-thought Jo, as she rang the bell half an hour later than usual, and
-stood, hot, tired, and dispirited, surveying the feast spread for
-Laurie, accustomed to all sorts of elegance, and Miss Crocker, whose
-curious eyes would mark all failures, and whose tattling tongue would
-report them far and wide.
-
-Poor Jo would gladly have gone under the table, as one thing after
-another was tasted and left; while Amy giggled, Meg looked distressed,
-Miss Crocker pursed up her lips, and Laurie talked and laughed with all
-his might, to give a cheerful tone to the festive scene. Jo's one strong
-point was the fruit, for she had sugared it well, and had a pitcher of
-rich cream to eat with it. Her hot cheeks cooled a trifle, and she drew
-a long breath, as the pretty glass plates went round, and every one
-looked graciously at the little rosy islands floating in a sea of cream.
-Miss Crocker tasted first, made a wry face, and drank some water
-hastily. Jo, who had refused, thinking there might not be enough, for
-they dwindled sadly after the picking over, glanced at Laurie, but he
-was eating away manfully, though there was a slight pucker about his
-mouth, and he kept his eye fixed on his plate. Amy, who was fond of
-delicate fare, took a heaping spoonful, choked, hid her face in her
-napkin, and left the table precipitately.
-
-              [Illustration: Miss Crocker made a wry face]
-
-"Oh, what is it?" exclaimed Jo trembling.
-
-"Salt instead of sugar, and the cream is sour," replied Meg, with a
-tragic gesture.
-
-Jo uttered a groan, and fell back in her chair; remembering that she had
-given a last hasty powdering to the berries out of one of the two boxes
-on the kitchen table, and had neglected to put the milk in the
-refrigerator. She turned scarlet, and was on the verge of crying, when
-she met Laurie's eyes, which _would_ look merry in spite of his heroic
-efforts; the comical side of the affair suddenly struck her, and she
-laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. So did every one else, even
-"Croaker," as the girls called the old lady; and the unfortunate dinner
-ended gayly, with bread and butter, olives and fun.
-
-"I haven't strength of mind enough to clear up now, so we will sober
-ourselves with a funeral," said Jo, as they rose; and Miss Crocker made
-ready to go, being eager to tell the new story at another friend's
-dinner-table.
-
-They did sober themselves, for Beth's sake; Laurie dug a grave under the
-ferns in the grove, little Pip was laid in, with many tears, by his
-tender-hearted mistress, and covered with moss, while a wreath of
-violets and chickweed was hung on the stone which bore his epitaph,
-composed by Jo, while she struggled with the dinner:--
-
-        "Here lies Pip March,
-           Who died the 7th of June;
-         Loved and lamented sore,
-           And not forgotten soon."
-
-At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room, overcome
-with emotion and lobster; but there was no place of repose, for the beds
-were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged by beating up
-pillows and putting things in order. Meg helped Jo clear away the
-remains of the feast, which took half the afternoon, and left them so
-tired that they agreed to be contented with tea and toast for supper.
-Laurie took Amy to drive, which was a deed of charity, for the sour
-cream seemed to have had a bad effect upon her temper. Mrs. March came
-home to find the three older girls hard at work in the middle of the
-afternoon; and a glance at the closet gave her an idea of the success of
-one part of the experiment.
-
-Before the housewives could rest, several people called, and there was a
-scramble to get ready to see them; then tea must be got, errands done;
-and one or two necessary bits of sewing neglected till the last minute.
-As twilight fell, dewy and still, one by one they gathered in the porch
-where the June roses were budding beautifully, and each groaned or
-sighed as she sat down, as if tired or troubled.
-
-"What a dreadful day this has been!" begun Jo, usually the first to
-speak.
-
-"It has seemed shorter than usual, but _so_ uncomfortable," said Meg.
-
-"Not a bit like home," added Amy.
-
-"It can't seem so without Marmee and little Pip," sighed Beth, glancing,
-with full eyes, at the empty cage above her head.
-
-"Here's mother, dear, and you shall have another bird to-morrow, if you
-want it."
-
-As she spoke, Mrs. March came and took her place among them, looking as
-if her holiday had not been much pleasanter than theirs.
-
-"Are you satisfied with your experiment, girls, or do you want another
-week of it?" she asked, as Beth nestled up to her, and the rest turned
-toward her with brightening faces, as flowers turn toward the sun.
-
-"I don't!" cried Jo decidedly.
-
-"Nor I," echoed the others.
-
-"You think, then, that it is better to have a few duties, and live a
-little for others, do you?"
-
-"Lounging and larking doesn't pay," observed Jo, shaking her head. "I'm
-tired of it, and mean to go to work at something right off."
-
-"Suppose you learn plain cooking; that's a useful accomplishment, which
-no woman should be without," said Mrs. March, laughing inaudibly at the
-recollection of Jo's dinner-party; for she had met Miss Crocker, and
-heard her account of it.
-
-"Mother, did you go away and let everything be, just to see how we'd get
-on?" cried Meg, who had had suspicions all day.
-
-"Yes; I wanted you to see how the comfort of all depends on each doing
-her share faithfully. While Hannah and I did your work, you got on
-pretty well, though I don't think you were very happy or amiable; so I
-thought, as a little lesson, I would show you what happens when every
-one thinks only of herself. Don't you feel that it is pleasanter to help
-one another, to have daily duties which make leisure sweet when it
-comes, and to bear and forbear, that home may be comfortable and lovely
-to us all?"
-
-"We do, mother, we do!" cried the girls.
-
-"Then let me advise you to take up your little burdens again; for though
-they seem heavy sometimes, they are good for us, and lighten as we learn
-to carry them. Work is wholesome, and there is plenty for every one; it
-keeps us from _ennui_ and mischief, is good for health and spirits, and
-gives us a sense of power and independence better than money or
-fashion."
-
-"We'll work like bees, and love it too; see if we don't!" said Jo. "I'll
-learn plain cooking for my holiday task; and the next dinner-party I
-have shall be a success."
-
-"I'll make the set of shirts for father, instead of letting you do it,
-Marmee. I can and I will, though I'm not fond of sewing; that will be
-better than fussing over my own things, which are plenty nice enough as
-they are," said Meg.
-
-"I'll do my lessons every day, and not spend so much time with my music
-and dolls. I am a stupid thing, and ought to be studying, not playing,"
-was Beth's resolution; while Amy followed their example by heroically
-declaring, "I shall learn to make button-holes, and attend to my parts
-of speech."
-
-"Very good! then I am quite satisfied with the experiment, and fancy
-that we shall not have to repeat it; only don't go to the other extreme,
-and delve like slaves. Have regular hours for work and play; make each
-day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of
-time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will
-bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite of
-poverty."
-
-"We'll remember, mother!" and they did.
-
-                  [Illustration: We'll work like bees]
-
-
-
-
-                                  XII.
-
-                             CAMP LAURENCE.
-
-
-                 [Illustration: Beth was post-mistress]
-
-Beth was post-mistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it
-regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door
-and distributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands full,
-and went about the house leaving letters and parcels, like the penny
-post.
-
-"Here's your posy, mother! Laurie never forgets that," she said, putting
-the fresh nosegay in the vase that stood in "Marmee's corner," and was
-kept supplied by the affectionate boy.
-
-"Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove," continued Beth, delivering the
-articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands.
-
-"Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one," said Meg, looking
-at the gray cotton glove.
-
-"Didn't you drop the other in the garden?"
-
-"No, I'm sure I didn't; for there was only one in the office."
-
-"I hate to have odd gloves! Never mind, the other may be found. My
-letter is only a translation of the German song I wanted; I think Mr.
-Brooke did it, for this isn't Laurie's writing."
-
-Mrs. March glanced at Meg, who was looking very pretty in her gingham
-morning-gown, with the little curls blowing about her forehead, and very
-womanly, as she sat sewing at her little work-table, full of tidy white
-rolls; so unconscious of the thought in her mother's mind as she sewed
-and sung, while her fingers flew, and her thoughts were busied with
-girlish fancies as innocent and fresh as the pansies in her belt, that
-Mrs. March smiled, and was satisfied.
-
-"Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered
-the whole post-office, stuck outside," said Beth, laughing, as she went
-into the study, where Jo sat writing.
-
-"What a sly fellow Laurie is! I said I wished bigger hats were the
-fashion, because I burn my face every hot day. He said, 'Why mind the
-fashion? Wear a big hat, and be comfortable!' I said I would if I had
-one, and he has sent me this, to try me. I'll wear it, for fun, and show
-him I _don't_ care for the fashion;" and, hanging the antique broad-brim
-on a bust of Plato, Jo read her letters.
-
-One from her mother made her cheeks glow and her eyes fill, for it said
-to her,--
-
-    "MY DEAR:
-
-    "I write a little word to tell you with how much satisfaction I
-    watch your efforts to control your temper. You say nothing about
-    your trials, failures, or successes, and think, perhaps, that no
-    one sees them but the Friend whose help you daily ask, if I may
-    trust the well-worn cover of your guide-book. _I_, too, have
-    seen them all, and heartily believe in the sincerity of your
-    resolution, since it begins to bear fruit. Go on, dear,
-    patiently and bravely, and always believe that no one
-    sympathizes more tenderly with you than your loving
-
-                                                           "MOTHER."
-
-"That does me good! that's worth millions of money and pecks of praise.
-O Marmee, I do try! I will keep on trying, and not get tired, since I
-have you to help me."
-
-Laying her head on her arms, Jo wet her little romance with a few happy
-tears, for she _had_ thought that no one saw and appreciated her efforts
-to be good; and this assurance was doubly precious, doubly encouraging,
-because unexpected, and from the person whose commendation she most
-valued. Feeling stronger than ever to meet and subdue her Apollyon, she
-pinned the note inside her frock, as a shield and a reminder, lest she
-be taken unaware, and proceeded to open her other letter, quite ready
-for either good or bad news. In a big, dashing hand, Laurie wrote,--
-
-                "DEAR JO,
-                 What ho!
-
-    Some English girls and boys are coming to see me to-morrow and
-    I want to have a jolly time. If it's fine, I'm going to pitch
-    my tent in Longmeadow, and row up the whole crew to lunch and
-    croquet,--have a fire, make messes, gypsy fashion, and all
-    sorts of larks. They are nice people, and like such things.
-    Brooke will go, to keep us boys steady, and Kate Vaughn will
-    play propriety for the girls. I want you all to come; can't let
-    Beth off, at any price, and nobody shall worry her. Don't
-    bother about rations,--I'll see to that, and everything
-    else,--only do come, there's a good fellow!
-
-                "In a tearing hurry,
-                 Yours ever, LAURIE."
-
-"Here's richness!" cried Jo, flying in to tell the news to Meg.
-
-"Of course we can go, mother? it will be such a help to Laurie, for I
-can row, and Meg see to the lunch, and the children be useful in some
-way."
-
-"I hope the Vaughns are not fine, grown-up people. Do you know anything
-about them, Jo?" asked Meg.
-
-"Only that there are four of them. Kate is older than you, Fred and
-Frank (twins) about my age, and a little girl (Grace), who is nine or
-ten. Laurie knew them abroad, and liked the boys; I fancied, from the
-way he primmed up his mouth in speaking of her, that he didn't admire
-Kate much."
-
-"I'm so glad my French print is clean; it's just the thing, and so
-becoming!" observed Meg complacently. "Have you anything decent, Jo?"
-
-"Scarlet and gray boating suit, good enough for me. I shall row and
-tramp about, so I don't want any starch to think of. You'll come,
-Bethy?"
-
-"If you won't let any of the boys talk to me."
-
-"Not a boy!"
-
-"I like to please Laurie; and I'm not afraid of Mr. Brooke, he is so
-kind; but I don't want to play, or sing, or say anything. I'll work
-hard, and not trouble any one; and you'll take care of me, Jo, so I'll
-go."
-
-"That's my good girl; you do try to fight off your shyness, and I love
-you for it. Fighting faults isn't easy, as I know; and a cheery word
-kind of gives a lift. Thank you, mother," and Jo gave the thin cheek a
-grateful kiss, more precious to Mrs. March than if it had given back the
-rosy roundness of her youth.
-
-"I had a box of chocolate drops, and the picture I wanted to copy," said
-Amy, showing her mail.
-
-"And I got a note from Mr. Laurence, asking me to come over and play to
-him to-night, before the lamps are lighted, and I shall go," added Beth,
-whose friendship with the old gentleman prospered finely.
-
-"Now let's fly round, and do double duty to-day, so that we can play
-to-morrow with free minds," said Jo, preparing to replace her pen with a
-broom.
-
-When the sun peeped into the girls' room early next morning, to promise
-them a fine day, he saw a comical sight. Each had made such preparation
-for the fête as seemed necessary and proper. Meg had an extra row of
-little curl-papers across her forehead, Jo had copiously anointed her
-afflicted face with cold cream, Beth had taken Joanna to bed with her to
-atone for the approaching separation, and Amy had capped the climax by
-putting a clothes-pin on her nose, to uplift the offending feature. It
-was one of the kind artists use to hold the paper on their
-drawing-boards, therefore quite appropriate and effective for the
-purpose to which it was now put. This funny spectacle appeared to amuse
-the sun, for he burst out with such radiance that Jo woke up, and
-roused all her sisters by a hearty laugh at Amy's ornament.
-
-  [Illustration: Amy capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her
-                                 nose]
-
-Sunshine and laughter were good omens for a pleasure party, and soon a
-lively bustle began in both houses. Beth, who was ready first, kept
-reporting what went on next door, and enlivened her sisters' toilets by
-frequent telegrams from the window.
-
-"There goes the man with the tent! I see Mrs. Barker doing up the lunch
-in a hamper and a great basket. Now Mr. Laurence is looking up at the
-sky, and the weathercock; I wish he would go, too. There's Laurie,
-looking like a sailor,--nice boy! Oh, mercy me! here's a carriage full
-of people--a tall lady, a little girl, and two dreadful boys. One is
-lame; poor thing, he's got a crutch. Laurie didn't tell us that. Be
-quick, girls! it's getting late. Why, there is Ned Moffat, I do declare.
-Look, Meg, isn't that the man who bowed to you one day, when we were
-shopping?"
-
-"So it is. How queer that he should come. I thought he was at the
-Mountains. There is Sallie; I'm glad she got back in time. Am I all
-right, Jo?" cried Meg, in a flutter.
-
-"A regular daisy. Hold up your dress and put your hat straight; it looks
-sentimental tipped that way, and will fly off at the first puff. Now,
-then, come on!"
-
-"O Jo, you are not going to wear that awful hat? It's too absurd! You
-shall _not_ make a guy of yourself," remonstrated Meg, as Jo tied down,
-with a red ribbon, the broad-brimmed, old-fashioned Leghorn Laurie had
-sent for a joke.
-
-"I just will, though, for it's capital,--so shady, light, and big. It
-will make fun; and I don't mind being a guy if I'm comfortable." With
-that Jo marched straight away, and the rest followed,--a bright little
-band of sisters, all looking their best, in summer suits, with happy
-faces under the jaunty hat-brims.
-
-Laurie ran to meet, and present them to his friends, in the most cordial
-manner. The lawn was the reception-room, and for several minutes a
-lively scene was enacted there. Meg was grateful to see that Miss Kate,
-though twenty, was dressed with a simplicity which American girls would
-do well to imitate; and she was much flattered by Mr. Ned's assurances
-that he came especially to see her. Jo understood why Laurie "primmed up
-his mouth" when speaking of Kate, for that young lady had a
-stand-off-don't-touch-me air, which contrasted strongly with the free
-and easy demeanor of the other girls. Beth took an observation of the
-new boys, and decided that the lame one was not "dreadful," but gentle
-and feeble, and she would be kind to him on that account. Amy found
-Grace a well-mannered, merry little person; and after staring dumbly at
-one another for a few minutes, they suddenly became very good friends.
-
-Tents, lunch, and croquet utensils having been sent on beforehand, the
-party was soon embarked, and the two boats pushed off together, leaving
-Mr. Laurence waving his hat on the shore. Laurie and Jo rowed one boat;
-Mr. Brooke and Ned the other; while Fred Vaughn, the riotous twin, did
-his best to upset both by paddling about in a wherry like a disturbed
-water-bug. Jo's funny hat deserved a vote of thanks, for it was of
-general utility; it broke the ice in the beginning, by producing a
-laugh; it created quite a refreshing breeze, flapping to and fro, as she
-rowed, and would make an excellent umbrella for the whole party, if a
-shower came up, she said. Kate looked rather amazed at Jo's proceedings,
-especially as she exclaimed "Christopher Columbus!" when she lost her
-oar; and Laurie said, "My dear fellow, did I hurt you?" when he tripped
-over her feet in taking his place. But after putting up her glass to
-examine the queer girl several times, Miss Kate decided that she was
-"odd, but rather clever," and smiled upon her from afar.
-
-              [Illustration: Mr. Laurence waving his hat]
-
-Meg, in the other boat, was delightfully situated, face to face with the
-rowers, who both admired the prospect, and feathered their oars with
-uncommon "skill and dexterity." Mr. Brooke was a grave, silent young
-man, with handsome brown eyes and a pleasant voice. Meg liked his quiet
-manners, and considered him a walking encyclopædia of useful knowledge.
-He never talked to her much; but he looked at her a good deal, and she
-felt sure that he did not regard her with aversion. Ned, being in
-college, of course put on all the airs which Freshmen think it their
-bounden duty to assume; he was not very wise, but very good-natured, and
-altogether an excellent person to carry on a picnic. Sallie Gardiner was
-absorbed in keeping her white piqué dress clean, and chattering with the
-ubiquitous Fred, who kept Beth in constant terror by his pranks.
-
-It was not far to Longmeadow; but the tent was pitched and the wickets
-down by the time they arrived. A pleasant green field, with three
-wide-spreading oaks in the middle, and a smooth strip of turf for
-croquet.
-
-"Welcome to Camp Laurence!" said the young host, as they landed, with
-exclamations of delight.
-
-"Brooke is commander-in-chief; I am commissary-general; the other
-fellows are staff-officers; and you, ladies, are company. The tent is
-for your especial benefit, and that oak is your drawing-room; this is
-the mess-room, and the third is the camp-kitchen. Now, let's have a game
-before it gets hot, and then we'll see about dinner."
-
-Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game played by the
-other eight. Mr. Brooke chose Meg, Kate, and Fred; Laurie took Sallie,
-Jo, and Ned. The Englishers played well; but the Americans played
-better, and contested every inch of the ground as strongly as if the
-spirit of '76 inspired them. Jo and Fred had several skirmishes, and
-once narrowly escaped high words. Jo was through the last wicket, and
-had missed the stroke, which failure ruffled her a good deal. Fred was
-close behind her, and his turn came before hers; he gave a stroke, his
-ball hit the wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was
-very near; and running up to examine, he gave it a sly nudge with his
-toe, which put it just an inch on the right side.
-
-"I'm through! Now, Miss Jo, I'll settle you, and get in first," cried
-the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow.
-
-             [Illustration: Now, Miss Jo, I'll settle you]
-
-"You pushed it; I saw you; it's my turn now," said Jo sharply.
-
-"Upon my word, I didn't move it; it rolled a bit, perhaps, but that is
-allowed; so stand off, please, and let me have a go at the stake."
-
-"We don't cheat in America, but you can, if you choose," said Jo
-angrily.
-
-"Yankees are a deal the most tricky, everybody knows. There you go!"
-returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away.
-
-Jo opened her lips to say something rude, but checked herself in time,
-colored up to her forehead, and stood a minute, hammering down a wicket
-with all her might, while Fred hit the stake, and declared himself out
-with much exultation. She went off to get her ball, and was a long time
-finding it, among the bushes; but she came back, looking cool and quiet,
-and waited her turn patiently. It took several strokes to regain the
-place she had lost; and, when she got there, the other side had nearly
-won, for Kate's ball was the last but one, and lay near the stake.
-
-"By George, it's all up with us! Good-by, Kate. Miss Jo owes me one, so
-you are finished," cried Fred excitedly, as they all drew near to see
-the finish.
-
-"Yankees have a trick of being generous to their enemies," said Jo, with
-a look that made the lad redden, "especially when they beat them," she
-added, as, leaving Kate's ball untouched, she won the game by a clever
-stroke.
-
-Laurie threw up his hat; then remembered that it wouldn't do to exult
-over the defeat of his guests, and stopped in the middle of a cheer to
-whisper to his friend,--
-
-"Good for you, Jo! He did cheat, I saw him; we can't tell him so, but he
-won't do it again, take my word for it."
-
-Meg drew her aside, under pretence of pinning up a loose braid, and said
-approvingly,--
-
-"It was dreadfully provoking; but you kept your temper, and I'm so glad,
-Jo."
-
-"Don't praise me, Meg, for I could box his ears this minute. I should
-certainly have boiled over if I hadn't stayed among the nettles till I
-got my rage under enough to hold my tongue. It's simmering now, so I
-hope he'll keep out of my way," returned Jo, biting her lips, as she
-glowered at Fred from under her big hat.
-
-"Time for lunch," said Mr. Brooke, looking at his watch.
-"Commissary-general, will you make the fire and get water, while Miss
-March, Miss Sallie, and I spread the table? Who can make good coffee?"
-
-"Jo can," said Meg, glad to recommend her sister. So Jo, feeling that
-her late lessons in cookery were to do her honor, went to preside over
-the coffee-pot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys
-made a fire, and got water from a spring near by. Miss Kate sketched,
-and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes
-to serve as plates.
-
-The commander-in-chief and his aids soon spread the table-cloth with an
-inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green
-leaves. Jo announced that the coffee was ready, and every one settled
-themselves to a hearty meal; for youth is seldom dyspeptic, and exercise
-develops wholesome appetites. A very merry lunch it was; for everything
-seemed fresh and funny, and frequent peals of laughter startled a
-venerable horse who fed near by. There was a pleasing inequality in the
-table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates; acorns dropped
-into the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without
-being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree, to see
-what was going on. Three white-headed children peeped over the fence,
-and an objectionable dog barked at them from the other side of the river
-with all his might and main.
-
-        [Illustration: "A very merry lunch it was."--Page 156.]
-
-"There's salt here, if you prefer it," said Laurie, as he handed Jo a
-saucer of berries.
-
-"Thank you, I prefer spiders," she replied, fishing up two unwary little
-ones who had gone to a creamy death. "How dare you remind me of that
-horrid dinner-party, when yours is so nice in every way?" added Jo,
-as they both laughed, and ate out of one plate, the china having run
-short.
-
-"I had an uncommonly good time that day, and haven't got over it yet.
-This is no credit to me, you know; I don't do anything; it's you and Meg
-and Brooke who make it go, and I'm no end obliged to you. What shall we
-do when we can't eat any more?" asked Laurie, feeling that his trump
-card had been played when lunch was over.
-
-"Have games, till it's cooler. I brought 'Authors,' and I dare say Miss
-Kate knows something new and nice. Go and ask her; she's company, and
-you ought to stay with her more."
-
-"Aren't you company too? I thought she'd suit Brooke; but he keeps
-talking to Meg, and Kate just stares at them through that ridiculous
-glass of hers. I'm going, so you needn't try to preach propriety, for
-you can't do it, Jo."
-
-Miss Kate did know several new games; and as the girls would not, and
-the boys could not, eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing-room
-to play "Rigmarole."
-
-"One person begins a story, any nonsense you like, and tells as long as
-he pleases, only taking care to stop short at some exciting point, when
-the next takes it up and does the same. It's very funny when well done,
-and makes a perfect jumble of tragical comical stuff to laugh over.
-Please start it, Mr. Brooke," said Kate, with a commanding air, which
-surprised Meg, who treated the tutor with as much respect as any other
-gentleman.
-
-Lying on the grass at the feet of the two young ladies, Mr. Brooke
-obediently began the story, with the handsome brown eyes steadily fixed
-upon the sunshiny river.
-
-"Once on a time, a knight went out into the world to seek his fortune,
-for he had nothing but his sword and his shield. He travelled a long
-while, nearly eight-and-twenty years, and had a hard time of it, till he
-came to the palace of a good old king, who had offered a reward to any
-one who would tame and train a fine but unbroken colt, of which he was
-very fond. The knight agreed to try, and got on slowly but surely; for
-the colt was a gallant fellow, and soon learned to love his new master,
-though he was freakish and wild. Every day, when he gave his lessons to
-this pet of the king's, the knight rode him through the city; and, as
-he rode, he looked everywhere for a certain beautiful face, which he had
-seen many times in his dreams, but never found. One day, as he went
-prancing down a quiet street, he saw at the window of a ruinous castle
-the lovely face. He was delighted, inquired who lived in this old
-castle, and was told that several captive princesses were kept there by
-a spell, and spun all day to lay up money to buy their liberty. The
-knight wished intensely that he could free them; but he was poor, and
-could only go by each day, watching for the sweet face, and longing to
-see it out in the sunshine. At last, he resolved to get into the castle
-and ask how he could help them. He went and knocked; the great door flew
-open, and he beheld--"
-
-          [Illustration: He went prancing down a quiet street]
-
-"A ravishingly lovely lady, who exclaimed, with a cry of rapture, 'At
-last! at last!'" continued Kate, who had read French novels, and admired
-the style. "''Tis she!' cried Count Gustave, and fell at her feet in an
-ecstasy of joy. 'Oh, rise!' she said, extending a hand of marble
-fairness. 'Never! till you tell me how I may rescue you,' swore the
-knight, still kneeling. 'Alas, my cruel fate condemns me to remain here
-till my tyrant is destroyed.' 'Where is the villain?' 'In the mauve
-salon. Go, brave heart, and save me from despair.' 'I obey, and return
-victorious or dead!' With these thrilling words he rushed away, and
-flinging open the door of the mauve salon, was about to enter, when he
-received--"
-
-                  [Illustration: "Oh, rise," she said]
-
-"A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow in a
-black gown fired at him," said Ned. "Instantly Sir What's-his-name
-recovered himself, pitched the tyrant out of the window, and turned to
-join the lady, victorious, but with a bump on his brow; found the door
-locked, tore up the curtains, made a rope ladder, got half-way down when
-the ladder broke, and he went head first into the moat, sixty feet
-below. Could swim like a duck, paddled round the castle till he came to
-a little door guarded by two stout fellows; knocked their heads together
-till they cracked like a couple of nuts, then, by a trifling exertion of
-his prodigious strength, he smashed in the door, went up a pair of stone
-steps covered with dust a foot thick, toads as big as your fist, and
-spiders that would frighten you into hysterics, Miss March. At the top
-of these steps he came plump upon a sight that took his breath away and
-chilled his blood--"
-
-       [Illustration: A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon]
-
-"A tall figure, all in white with a veil over its face and a lamp in its
-wasted hand," went on Meg. "It beckoned, gliding noiselessly before him
-down a corridor as dark and cold as any tomb. Shadowy effigies in armor
-stood on either side, a dead silence reigned, the lamp burned blue, and
-the ghostly figure ever and anon turned its face toward him, showing the
-glitter of awful eyes through its white veil. They reached a curtained
-door, behind which sounded lovely music; he sprang forward to enter, but
-the spectre plucked him back, and waved threateningly before him a--"
-
-"Snuff-box," said Jo, in a sepulchral tone, which convulsed the
-audience. "'Thankee,' said the knight politely, as he took a pinch, and
-sneezed seven times so violently that his head fell off. 'Ha! ha!'
-laughed the ghost; and having peeped through the key-hole at the
-princesses spinning away for dear life, the evil spirit picked up her
-victim and put him in a large tin box, where there were eleven other
-knights packed together without their heads, like sardines, who all rose
-and began to--"
-
-                       [Illustration: He sneezed]
-
-"Dance a hornpipe," cut in Fred, as Jo paused for breath; "and, as they
-danced, the rubbishy old castle turned to a man-of-war in full sail. 'Up
-with the jib, reef the tops'l halliards, helm hard a lee, and man the
-guns!' roared the captain, as a Portuguese pirate hove in sight, with a
-flag black as ink flying from her foremast. 'Go in and win, my
-hearties!' says the captain; and a tremendous fight begun. Of course the
-British beat; they always do."
-
-"No, they don't!" cried Jo, aside.
-
-"Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap over the
-schooner, whose decks were piled with dead, and whose lee-scuppers ran
-blood, for the order had been 'Cutlasses, and die hard!' 'Bosen's mate,
-take a bight of the flying-jib sheet, and start this villain if he don't
-confess his sins double quick,' said the British captain. The Portuguese
-held his tongue like a brick, and walked the plank, while the jolly tars
-cheered like mad. But the sly dog dived, came up under the man-of-war,
-scuttled her, and down she went, with all sail set, 'To the bottom of
-the sea, sea, sea,' where--"
-
-            [Illustration: The Portuguese walked the plank]
-
-"Oh, gracious! what _shall_ I say?" cried Sallie, as Fred ended his
-rigmarole, in which he had jumbled together, pell-mell, nautical phrases
-and facts, out of one of his favorite books. "Well they went to the
-bottom, and a nice mermaid welcomed them, but was much grieved on
-finding the box of headless knights, and kindly pickled them in brine,
-hoping to discover the mystery about them; for, being a woman, she was
-curious. By and by a diver came down, and the mermaid said, 'I'll give
-you this box of pearls if you can take it up;' for she wanted to restore
-the poor things to life, and couldn't raise the heavy load herself. So
-the diver hoisted it up, and was much disappointed, on opening it, to
-find no pearls. He left it in a great lonely field, where it was found
-by a--"
-
-"Little goose-girl, who kept a hundred fat geese in the field," said
-Amy, when Sallie's invention gave out. "The little girl was sorry for
-them, and asked an old woman what she should do to help them. 'Your
-geese will tell you, they know everything,' said the old woman. So she
-asked what she should use for new heads, since the old ones were lost,
-and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and screamed--"
-
-"'Cabbages!'" continued Laurie promptly. "'Just the thing,' said the
-girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden. She put them on,
-the knights revived at once, thanked her, and went on their way
-rejoicing, never knowing the difference, for there were so many other
-heads like them in the world that no one thought anything of it. The
-knight in whom I'm interested went back to find the pretty face, and
-learned that the princesses had spun themselves free, and all gone to be
-married, but one. He was in a great state of mind at that; and mounting
-the colt, who stood by him through thick and thin, rushed to the castle
-to see which was left. Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his
-affections picking flowers in her garden. 'Will you give me a rose?'
-said he. 'You must come and get it. I can't come to you; it isn't
-proper,' said she, as sweet as honey. He tried to climb over the hedge,
-but it seemed to grow higher and higher; then he tried to push through,
-but it grew thicker and thicker, and he was in despair. So he patiently
-broke twig after twig, till he had made a little hole, through which he
-peeped, saying imploringly, 'Let me in! let me in!' But the pretty
-princess did not seem to understand, for she picked her roses quietly,
-and left him to fight his way in. Whether he did or not, Frank will tell
-you."
-
-                [Illustration: Will you give me a rose?]
-
-"I can't; I'm not playing, I never do," said Frank, dismayed at the
-sentimental predicament out of which he was to rescue the absurd couple.
-Beth had disappeared behind Jo, and Grace was asleep.
-
-"So the poor knight is to be left sticking in the hedge, is he?" asked
-Mr. Brooke, still watching the river, and playing with the wild rose in
-his button-hole.
-
-"I guess the princess gave him a posy, and opened the gate, after a
-while," said Laurie, smiling to himself, as he threw acorns at his
-tutor.
-
-"What a piece of nonsense we have made! With practice we might do
-something quite clever. Do you know 'Truth'?" asked Sallie, after they
-had laughed over their story.
-
-"I hope so," said Meg soberly.
-
-"The game, I mean?"
-
-"What is it?" said Fred.
-
-"Why, you pile up your hands, choose a number, and draw out in turn, and
-the person who draws at the number has to answer truly any questions put
-by the rest. It's great fun."
-
-"Let's try it," said Jo, who liked new experiments.
-
-Miss Kate and Mr. Brooke, Meg, and Ned declined, but Fred, Sallie, Jo,
-and Laurie piled and drew; and the lot fell to Laurie.
-
-"Who are your heroes?" asked Jo.
-
-"Grandfather and Napoleon."
-
-"Which lady here do you think prettiest?" said Sallie.
-
-"Margaret."
-
-"Which do you like best?" from Fred.
-
-"Jo, of course."
-
-"What silly questions you ask!" and Jo gave a disdainful shrug as the
-rest laughed at Laurie's matter-of-fact tone.
-
-"Try again; Truth isn't a bad game," said Fred.
-
-"It's a very good one for you," retorted Jo, in a low voice.
-
-Her turn came next.
-
-"What is your greatest fault?" asked Fred, by way of testing in her the
-virtue he lacked himself.
-
-"A quick temper."
-
-"What do you most wish for?" said Laurie.
-
-"A pair of boot-lacings," returned Jo, guessing and defeating his
-purpose.
-
-"Not a true answer; you must say what you really do want most."
-
-"Genius; don't you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?" and she slyly
-smiled in his disappointed face.
-
-"What virtues do you most admire in a man?" asked Sallie.
-
-"Courage and honesty."
-
-"Now my turn," said Fred, as his hand came last.
-
-"Let's give it to him," whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded, and asked at
-once,--
-
-"Didn't you cheat at croquet?"
-
-"Well, yes, a little bit."
-
-"Good! Didn't you take your story out of 'The Sea-Lion?'" said Laurie.
-
-"Rather."
-
-"Don't you think the English nation perfect in every respect?" asked
-Sallie.
-
-"I should be ashamed of myself if I didn't."
-
-"He's a true John Bull. Now, Miss Sallie, you shall have a chance
-without waiting to draw. I'll harrow up your feelings first, by asking
-if you don't think you are something of a flirt," said Laurie, as Jo
-nodded to Fred, as a sign that peace was declared.
-
-"You impertinent boy! of course I'm not," exclaimed Sallie, with an air
-that proved the contrary.
-
-"What do you hate most?" asked Fred.
-
-"Spiders and rice-pudding."
-
-"What do you like best?" asked Jo.
-
-"Dancing and French gloves."
-
-"Well, _I_ think Truth is a very silly play; let's have a sensible game
-of Authors, to refresh our minds," proposed Jo.
-
-Ned, Frank, and the little girls joined in this, and, while it went on,
-the three elders sat apart, talking. Miss Kate took out her sketch
-again, and Margaret watched her, while Mr. Brooke lay on the grass, with
-a book, which he did not read.
-
-"How beautifully you do it! I wish I could draw," said Meg, with mingled
-admiration and regret in her voice.
-
-"Why don't you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for it,"
-replied Miss Kate graciously.
-
-"I haven't time."
-
-"Your mamma prefers other accomplishments, I fancy. So did mine; but I
-proved to her that I had talent, by taking a few lessons privately, and
-then she was quite willing I should go on. Can't you do the same with
-your governess?"
-
-"I have none."
-
-"I forgot; young ladies in America go to school more than with us. Very
-fine schools they are, too, papa says. You go to a private one, I
-suppose?"
-
-"I don't go at all; I am a governess myself."
-
-"Oh, indeed!" said Miss Kate; but she might as well have said, "Dear me,
-how dreadful!" for her tone implied it, and something in her face made
-Meg color, and wish she had not been so frank.
-
-Mr. Brooke looked up, and said quickly, "Young ladies in America love
-independence as much as their ancestors did, and are admired and
-respected for supporting themselves."
-
-"Oh, yes; of course it's very nice and proper in them to do so. We have
-many most respectable and worthy young women, who do the same and are
-employed by the nobility, because, being the daughters of gentlemen,
-they are both well-bred and accomplished, you know," said Miss Kate, in
-a patronizing tone, that hurt Meg's pride, and made her work seem not
-only more distasteful, but degrading.
-
-"Did the German song suit, Miss March?" inquired Mr. Brooke, breaking an
-awkward pause.
-
-"Oh, yes! it was very sweet, and I'm much obliged to whoever translated
-it for me;" and Meg's downcast face brightened as she spoke.
-
-"Don't you read German?" asked Miss Kate, with a look of surprise.
-
-"Not very well. My father, who taught me, is away, and I don't get on
-very fast alone, for I've no one to correct my pronunciation."
-
-"Try a little now; here is Schiller's 'Mary Stuart,' and a tutor who
-loves to teach," and Mr. Brooke laid his book on her lap, with an
-inviting smile.
-
-"It's so hard I'm afraid to try," said Meg, grateful, but bashful in the
-presence of the accomplished young lady beside her.
-
-"I'll read a bit to encourage you;" and Miss Kate read one of the most
-beautiful passages, in a perfectly correct but perfectly expressionless
-manner.
-
-Mr. Brooke made no comment, as she returned the book to Meg, who said
-innocently,--
-
-"I thought it was poetry."
-
-"Some of it is. Try this passage."
-
-There was a queer smile about Mr. Brooke's mouth as he opened at poor
-Mary's lament.
-
-Meg, obediently following the long grass-blade which her new tutor used
-to point with, read slowly and timidly, unconsciously making poetry of
-the hard words by the soft intonation of her musical voice. Down the
-page went the green guide, and presently, forgetting her listener in the
-beauty of the sad scene, Meg read as if alone, giving a little touch of
-tragedy to the words of the unhappy queen. If she had seen the brown
-eyes then, she would have stopped short; but she never looked up, and
-the lesson was not spoiled for her.
-
-"Very well indeed!" said Mr. Brooke, as she paused, quite ignoring her
-many mistakes, and looking as if he did, indeed, "love to teach."
-
-Miss Kate put up her glass, and, having taken a survey of the little
-tableau before her, shut her sketch-book, saying, with condescension,--
-
-               [Illustration: Miss Kate put up her glass]
-
-"You've a nice accent, and, in time, will be a clever reader. I advise
-you to learn, for German is a valuable accomplishment to teachers. I
-must look after Grace, she is romping;" and Miss Kate strolled away,
-adding to herself, with a shrug, "I didn't come to chaperone a
-governess, though she _is_ young and pretty. What odd people these
-Yankees are; I'm afraid Laurie will be quite spoilt among them."
-
-"I forgot that English people rather turn up their noses at governesses,
-and don't treat them as we do," said Meg, looking after the retreating
-figure with an annoyed expression.
-
-"Tutors, also, have rather a hard time of it there, as I know to my
-sorrow. There's no place like America for us workers, Miss Margaret;"
-and Mr. Brooke looked so contented and cheerful, that Meg was ashamed to
-lament her hard lot.
-
-"I'm glad I live in it then. I don't like my work, but I get a good deal
-of satisfaction out of it after all, so I won't complain; I only wish I
-liked teaching as you do."
-
-"I think you would if you had Laurie for a pupil. I shall be very sorry
-to lose him next year," said Mr. Brooke, busily punching holes in the
-turf.
-
-"Going to college, I suppose?" Meg's lips asked that question, but her
-eyes added, "And what becomes of you?"
-
-"Yes; it's high time he went, for he is ready; and as soon as he is off,
-I shall turn soldier. I am needed."
-
-"I am glad of that!" exclaimed Meg. "I should think every young man
-would want to go; though it is hard for the mothers and sisters who stay
-at home," she added sorrowfully.
-
-"I have neither, and very few friends, to care whether I live or die,"
-said Mr. Brooke, rather bitterly, as he absently put the dead rose in
-the hole he had made and covered it up, like a little grave.
-
-"Laurie and his grandfather would care a great deal, and we should all
-be very sorry to have any harm happen to you," said Meg heartily.
-
-"Thank you; that sounds pleasant," began Mr. Brooke, looking cheerful
-again; but before he could finish his speech, Ned, mounted on the old
-horse, came lumbering up to display his equestrian skill before the
-young ladies, and there was no more quiet that day.
-
-"Don't you love to ride?" asked Grace of Amy, as they stood resting,
-after a race round the field with the others, led by Ned.
-
-"I dote upon it; my sister Meg used to ride when papa was rich, but we
-don't keep any horses now, except Ellen Tree," added Amy, laughing.
-
-"Tell me about Ellen Tree; is it a donkey?" asked Grace curiously.
-
-                       [Illustration: Ellen Tree]
-
-"Why, you see, Jo is crazy about horses, and so am I, but we've only got
-an old side-saddle, and no horse. Out in our garden is an apple-tree,
-that has a nice low branch; so Jo put the saddle on it, fixed some reins
-on the part that turns up, and we bounce away on Ellen Tree whenever we
-like."
-
-"How funny!" laughed Grace. "I have a pony at home, and ride nearly
-every day in the park, with Fred and Kate; it's very nice, for my
-friends go too, and the Row is full of ladies and gentlemen."
-
-"Dear, how charming! I hope I shall go abroad some day; but I'd rather
-go to Rome than the Row," said Amy, who had not the remotest idea what
-the Row was, and wouldn't have asked for the world.
-
-Frank, sitting just behind the little girls, heard what they were
-saying, and pushed his crutch away from him with an impatient gesture as
-he watched the active lads going through all sorts of comical
-gymnastics. Beth, who was collecting the scattered Author-cards, looked
-up, and said, in her shy yet friendly way,--
-
-"I'm afraid you are tired; can I do anything for you?"
-
-"Talk to me, please; it's dull, sitting by myself," answered Frank, who
-had evidently been used to being made much of at home.
-
-If he had asked her to deliver a Latin oration, it would not have seemed
-a more impossible task to bashful Beth; but there was no place to run
-to, no Jo to hide behind now, and the poor boy looked so wistfully at
-her, that she bravely resolved to try.
-
-"What do you like to talk about?" she asked, fumbling over the cards,
-and dropping half as she tried to tie them up.
-
-"Well, I like to hear about cricket and boating and hunting," said
-Frank, who had not yet learned to suit his amusements to his strength.
-
-"My heart! what shall I do? I don't know anything about them," thought
-Beth; and, forgetting the boy's misfortune in her flurry, she said,
-hoping to make him talk, "I never saw any hunting, but I suppose you
-know all about it."
-
-"I did once; but I can never hunt again, for I got hurt leaping a
-confounded five-barred gate; so there are no more horses and hounds for
-me," said Frank, with a sigh that made Beth hate herself for her
-innocent blunder.
-
-"Your deer are much prettier than our ugly buffaloes," she said, turning
-to the prairies for help, and feeling glad that she had read one of the
-boys' books in which Jo delighted.
-
-Buffaloes proved soothing and satisfactory; and, in her eagerness to
-amuse another, Beth forgot herself, and was quite unconscious of her
-sisters' surprise and delight at the unusual spectacle of Beth talking
-away to one of the dreadful boys, against whom she had begged
-protection.
-
-"Bless her heart! She pities him, so she is good to him," said Jo,
-beaming at her from the croquet-ground.
-
-"I always said she was a little saint," added Meg, as if there could be
-no further doubt of it.
-
-"I haven't heard Frank laugh so much for ever so long," said Grace to
-Amy, as they sat discussing dolls, and making tea-sets out of the
-acorn-cups.
-
-"My sister Beth is a very _fastidious_ girl, when she likes to be," said
-Amy, well pleased at Beth's success. She meant "fascinating," but as
-Grace didn't know the exact meaning of either word, "fastidious" sounded
-well, and made a good impression.
-
-An impromptu circus, fox and geese, and an amicable game of croquet,
-finished the afternoon. At sunset the tent was struck, hampers packed,
-wickets pulled up, boats loaded, and the whole party floated down the
-river, singing at the tops of their voices. Ned, getting sentimental,
-warbled a serenade with the pensive refrain,--
-
-        "Alone, alone, ah! woe, alone,"
-
-and at the lines--
-
-       "We each are young, we each have a heart,
-        Oh, why should we stand thus coldly apart?"
-
-he looked at Meg with such a lackadaisical expression that she laughed
-outright and spoilt his song.
-
-"How can you be so cruel to me?" he whispered, under cover of a lively
-chorus. "You've kept close to that starched-up Englishwoman all day, and
-now you snub me."
-
-"I didn't mean to; but you looked so funny I really couldn't help it,"
-replied Meg, passing over the first part of his reproach; for it was
-quite true that she _had_ shunned him, remembering the Moffat party and
-the talk after it.
-
-Ned was offended, and turned to Sallie for consolation, saying to her
-rather pettishly, "There isn't a bit of flirt in that girl, is there?"
-
-"Not a particle; but she's a dear," returned Sallie, defending her
-friend even while confessing her short-comings.
-
-"She's not a stricken deer, any way," said Ned, trying to be witty, and
-succeeding as well as very young gentlemen usually do.
-
-On the lawn, where it had gathered, the little party separated with
-cordial good-nights and good-byes, for the Vaughns were going to Canada.
-As the four sisters went home through the garden, Miss Kate looked after
-them, saying, without the patronizing tone in her voice, "In spite of
-their demonstrative manners, American girls are very nice when one knows
-them."
-
-"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Brooke.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-           [Illustration: Swinging to and fro in his hammock]
-
-                                 XIII.
-
-                          CASTLES IN THE AIR.
-
-
-Laurie lay luxuriously swinging to and fro in his hammock, one warm
-September afternoon, wondering what his neighbors were about, but too
-lazy to go and find out. He was in one of his moods; for the day had
-been both unprofitable and unsatisfactory, and he was wishing he could
-live it over again. The hot weather made him indolent, and he had
-shirked his studies, tried Mr. Brooke's patience to the utmost,
-displeased his grandfather by practising half the afternoon, frightened
-the maid-servants half out of their wits, by mischievously hinting that
-one of his dogs was going mad, and, after high words with the stable-man
-about some fancied neglect of his horse, he had flung himself into his
-hammock, to fume over the stupidity of the world in general, till the
-peace of the lovely day quieted him in spite of himself. Staring up into
-the green gloom of the horse-chestnut trees above him, he dreamed dreams
-of all sorts, and was just imagining himself tossing on the ocean, in a
-voyage round the world, when the sound of voices brought him ashore in a
-flash. Peeping through the meshes of the hammock, he saw the Marches
-coming out, as if bound on some expedition.
-
-"What in the world are those girls about now?" thought Laurie, opening
-his sleepy eyes to take a good look, for there was something rather
-peculiar in the appearance of his neighbors. Each wore a large, flapping
-hat, a brown linen pouch slung over one shoulder, and carried a long
-staff. Meg had a cushion, Jo a book, Beth a basket, and Amy a portfolio.
-All walked quietly through the garden, out at the little back gate, and
-began to climb the hill that lay between the house and river.
-
-"Well, that's cool!" said Laurie to himself, "to have a picnic and never
-ask me. They can't be going in the boat, for they haven't got the key.
-Perhaps they forgot it; I'll take it to them, and see what's going on."
-
-Though possessed of half a dozen hats, it took him some time to find
-one; then there was a hunt for the key, which was at last discovered in
-his pocket; so that the girls were quite out of sight when he leaped the
-fence and ran after them. Taking the shortest way to the boat-house, he
-waited for them to appear: but no one came, and he went up the hill to
-take an observation. A grove of pines covered one part of it, and from
-the heart of this green spot came a clearer sound than the soft sigh of
-the pines or the drowsy chirp of the crickets.
-
-"Here's a landscape!" thought Laurie, peeping through the bushes, and
-looking wide-awake and good-natured already.
-
-It _was_ rather a pretty little picture; for the sisters sat together in
-the shady nook, with sun and shadow flickering over them, the aromatic
-wind lifting their hair and cooling their hot cheeks, and all the little
-wood-people going on with their affairs as if these were no strangers,
-but old friends. Meg sat upon her cushion, sewing daintily with her
-white hands, and looking as fresh and sweet as a rose, in her pink
-dress, among the green. Beth was sorting the cones that lay thick under
-the hemlock near by, for she made pretty things of them. Amy was
-sketching a group of ferns, and Jo was knitting as she read aloud. A
-shadow passed over the boy's face as he watched them, feeling that he
-ought to go away, because uninvited; yet lingering, because home seemed
-very lonely, and this quiet party in the woods most attractive to his
-restless spirit. He stood so still that a squirrel, busy with its
-harvesting, ran down a pine close beside him, saw him suddenly and
-skipped back, scolding so shrilly that Beth looked up, espied the
-wistful face behind the birches, and beckoned with a reassuring smile.
-
-          [Illustration: It was rather a pretty little picture]
-
-"May I come in, please? or shall I be a bother?" he asked, advancing
-slowly.
-
-Meg lifted her eyebrows, but Jo scowled at her defiantly, and said, at
-once, "Of course you may. We should have asked you before, only we
-thought you wouldn't care for such a girl's game as this."
-
-"I always liked your games; but if Meg doesn't want me, I'll go away."
-
-"I've no objection, if you do something; it's against the rules to be
-idle here," replied Meg, gravely but graciously.
-
-"Much obliged; I'll do anything if you'll let me stop a bit, for it's as
-dull as the Desert of Sahara down there. Shall I sew, read, cone, draw,
-or do all at once? Bring on your bears; I'm ready," and Laurie sat down,
-with a submissive expression delightful to behold.
-
-"Finish this story while I set my heel," said Jo, handing him the book.
-
-"Yes'm," was the meek answer, as he began, doing his best to prove his
-gratitude for the favor of an admission into the "Busy Bee Society."
-
-The story was not a long one, and, when it was finished, he ventured to
-ask a few questions as a reward of merit.
-
-"Please, ma'am, could I inquire if this highly instructive and charming
-institution is a new one?"
-
-"Would you tell him?" asked Meg of her sisters.
-
-"He'll laugh," said Amy warningly.
-
-"Who cares?" said Jo.
-
-"I guess he'll like it," added Beth.
-
-"Of course I shall! I give you my word I won't laugh. Tell away, Jo, and
-don't be afraid."
-
-"The idea of being afraid of you! Well, you see we used to play
-'Pilgrim's Progress,' and we have been going on with it in earnest, all
-winter and summer."
-
-"Yes, I know," said Laurie, nodding wisely.
-
-"Who told you?" demanded Jo.
-
-"Spirits."
-
-"No, I did; I wanted to amuse him one night when you were all away, and
-he was rather dismal. He did like it, so don't scold, Jo," said Beth
-meekly.
-
-"You can't keep a secret. Never mind; it saves trouble now."
-
-"Go on, please," said Laurie, as Jo became absorbed in her work, looking
-a trifle displeased.
-
-"Oh, didn't she tell you about this new plan of ours? Well, we have
-tried not to waste our holiday, but each has had a task, and worked at
-it with a will. The vacation is nearly over, the stints are all done,
-and we are ever so glad that we didn't dawdle."
-
-"Yes, I should think so;" and Laurie thought regretfully of his own idle
-days.
-
-"Mother likes to have us out of doors as much as possible; so we bring
-our work here, and have nice times. For the fun of it we bring our
-things in these bags, wear the old hats, use poles to climb the hill,
-and play pilgrims, as we used to do years ago. We call this hill the
-'Delectable Mountain,' for we can look far away and see the country
-where we hope to live some time."
-
-Jo pointed, and Laurie sat up to examine; for through an opening in the
-wood one could look across the wide, blue river, the meadows on the
-other side, far over the outskirts of the great city, to the green hills
-that rose to meet the sky. The sun was low, and the heavens plowed with
-the splendor of an autumn sunset. Gold and purple clouds lay on the
-hill-tops; and rising high into the ruddy light were silvery white
-peaks, that shone like the airy spires of some Celestial City.
-
-"How beautiful that is!" said Laurie softly, for he was quick to see and
-feel beauty of any kind.
-
-"It's often so; and we like to watch it, for it is never the same, but
-always splendid," replied Amy, wishing she could paint it.
-
-"Jo talks about the country where we hope to live some time,--the real
-country, she means, with pigs and chickens, and haymaking. It would be
-nice, but I wish the beautiful country up there was real, and we could
-ever go to it," said Beth musingly.
-
-"There is a lovelier country even than that, where we _shall_ go, by and
-by, when we are good enough," answered Meg, with her sweet voice.
-
-"It seems so long to wait, so hard to do; I want to fly away at once, as
-those swallows fly, and go in at that splendid gate."
-
-"You'll get there, Beth, sooner or later; no fear of that," said Jo;
-"I'm the one that will have to fight and work, and climb and wait, and
-maybe never get in after all."
-
-"You'll have me for company, if that's any comfort. I shall have to do a
-deal of travelling before I come in sight of your Celestial City. If I
-arrive late, you'll say a good word for me, won't you, Beth?"
-
-Something in the boy's face troubled his little friend; but she said
-cheerfully, with her quiet eyes on the changing clouds, "If people
-really want to go, and really try all their lives, I think they will get
-in; for I don't believe there are any locks on that door, or any guards
-at the gate. I always imagine it is as it is in the picture, where the
-shining ones stretch out their hands to welcome poor Christian as he
-comes up from the river."
-
-"Wouldn't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could
-come true, and we could live in them?" said Jo, after a little pause.
-
-"I've made such quantities it would be hard to choose which I'd have,"
-said Laurie, lying flat, and throwing cones at the squirrel who had
-betrayed him.
-
-"You'd have to take your favorite one. What is it?" asked Meg.
-
-"If I tell mine, will you tell yours?"
-
-"Yes, if the girls will too."
-
-"We will. Now, Laurie."
-
-"After I'd seen as much of the world as I want to, I'd like to settle in
-Germany, and have just as much music as I choose. I'm to be a famous
-musician myself, and all creation is to rush to hear me; and I'm never
-to be bothered about money or business, but just enjoy myself, and live
-for what I like. That's my favorite castle. What's yours, Meg?"
-
-Margaret seemed to find it a little hard to tell hers, and waved a brake
-before her face, as if to disperse imaginary gnats, while she said
-slowly, "I should like a lovely house, full of all sorts of luxurious
-things,--nice food, pretty clothes, handsome furniture, pleasant people,
-and heaps of money. I am to be mistress of it, and manage it as I like,
-with plenty of servants, so I never need work a bit. How I should enjoy
-it! for I wouldn't be idle, but do good, and make every one love me
-dearly."
-
-             [Illustration: Waved a brake before her face]
-
-"Wouldn't you have a master for your castle in the air?" asked Laurie
-slyly.
-
-"I said 'pleasant people,' you know;" and Meg carefully tied up her shoe
-as she spoke, so that no one saw her face.
-
-"Why don't you say you'd have a splendid, wise, good husband, and some
-angelic little children? You know your castle wouldn't be perfect
-without," said blunt Jo, who had no tender fancies yet, and rather
-scorned romance, except in books.
-
-"You'd have nothing but horses, inkstands, and novels in yours,"
-answered Meg petulantly.
-
-"Wouldn't I, though? I'd have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms
-piled with books, and I'd write out of a magic inkstand, so that my
-works should be as famous as Laurie's music. I want to do something
-splendid before I go into my castle,--something heroic or wonderful,
-that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on
-the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. I think I
-shall write books, and get rich and famous: that would suit me, so that
-is _my_ favorite dream."
-
-"Mine is to stay at home safe with father and mother, and help take care
-of the family," said Beth contentedly.
-
-"Don't you wish for anything else?" asked Laurie.
-
-"Since I had my little piano, I am perfectly satisfied. I only wish we
-may all keep well and be together; nothing else."
-
-"I have ever so many wishes; but the pet one is to be an artist, and go
-to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole
-world," was Amy's modest desire.
-
-"We're an ambitious set, aren't we? Every one of us, but Beth, wants to
-be rich and famous, and gorgeous in every respect. I do wonder if any of
-us will ever get our wishes," said Laurie, chewing grass, like a
-meditative calf.
-
-"I've got the key to my castle in the air; but whether I can unlock the
-door remains to be seen," observed Jo mysteriously.
-
-"I've got the key to mine, but I'm not allowed to try it. Hang college!"
-muttered Laurie, with an impatient sigh.
-
-"Here's mine!" and Amy waved her pencil.
-
-"I haven't got any," said Meg forlornly.
-
-"Yes, you have," said Laurie at once.
-
-"Where?"
-
-"In your face."
-
-"Nonsense; that's of no use."
-
-"Wait and see if it doesn't bring you something worth having," replied
-the boy, laughing at the thought of a charming little secret which he
-fancied he knew.
-
-Meg colored behind the brake, but asked no questions, and looked across
-the river with the same expectant expression which Mr. Brooke had worn
-when he told the story of the knight.
-
-"If we are all alive ten years hence, let's meet, and see how many of us
-have got our wishes, or how much nearer we are then than now," said Jo,
-always ready with a plan.
-
-"Bless me! how old I shall be,--twenty-seven!" exclaimed Meg who felt
-grown up already, having just reached seventeen.
-
-"You and I shall be twenty-six, Teddy, Beth twenty-four, and Amy
-twenty-two. What a venerable party!" said Jo.
-
-"I hope I shall have done something to be proud of by that time; but I'm
-such a lazy dog, I'm afraid I shall 'dawdle,' Jo."
-
-"You need a motive, mother says; and when you get it, she is sure you'll
-work splendidly."
-
-"Is she? By Jupiter I will, if I only get the chance!" cried Laurie,
-sitting up with sudden energy. "I ought to be satisfied to please
-grandfather, and I do try, but it's working against the grain, you see,
-and comes hard. He wants me to be an India merchant, as he was, and I'd
-rather be shot. I hate tea and silk and spices, and every sort of
-rubbish his old ships bring, and I don't care how soon they go to the
-bottom when I own them. Going to college ought to satisfy him, for if I
-give him four years he ought to let me off from the business; but he's
-set, and I 've got to do just as he did, unless I break away and please
-myself, as my father did. If there was any one left to stay with the old
-gentleman, I'd do it to-morrow."
-
-Laurie spoke excitedly, and looked ready to carry his threat into
-execution on the slightest provocation; for he was growing up very fast,
-and, in spite of his indolent ways, had a young man's hatred of
-subjection, a young man's restless longing to try the world for himself.
-
-"I advise you to sail away in one of your ships, and never come home
-again till you have tried your own way," said Jo, whose imagination was
-fired by the thought of such a daring exploit, and whose sympathy was
-excited by what she called "Teddy's wrongs."
-
-"That's not right, Jo; you mustn't talk in that way, and Laurie mustn't
-take your bad advice. You should do just what your grandfather wishes,
-my dear boy," said Meg, in her most maternal tone. "Do your best at
-college, and, when he sees that you try to please him, I'm sure he won't
-be hard or unjust to you. As you say, there is no one else to stay with
-and love him, and you'd never forgive yourself if you left him without
-his permission. Don't be dismal or fret, but do your duty; and you'll
-get your reward, as good Mr. Brooke has, by being respected and loved."
-
-"What do you know about him?" asked Laurie, grateful for the good
-advice, but objecting to the lecture, and glad to turn the conversation
-from himself, after his unusual outbreak.
-
-"Only what your grandpa told us about him,--how he took good care of his
-own mother till she died, and wouldn't go abroad as tutor to some nice
-person, because he wouldn't leave her; and how he provides now for an
-old woman who nursed his mother; and never tells any one, but is just as
-generous and patient and good as he can be."
-
-"So he is, dear old fellow!" said Laurie heartily, as Meg paused,
-looking flushed and earnest with her story. "It's like grandpa to find
-out all about him, without letting him know, and to tell all his
-goodness to others, so that they might like him. Brooke couldn't
-understand why your mother was so kind to him, asking him over with me,
-and treating him in her beautiful friendly way. He thought she was just
-perfect, and talked about it for days and days, and went on about you
-all in flaming style. If ever I do get my wish, you see what I'll do for
-Brooke."
-
-"Begin to do something now, by not plaguing his life out," said Meg
-sharply.
-
-"How do you know I do, miss?"
-
-"I can always tell by his face, when he goes away. If you have been
-good, he looks satisfied and walks briskly; if you have plagued him,
-he's sober and walks slowly, as if he wanted to go back and do his work
-better."
-
-"Well, I like that! So you keep an account of my good and bad marks in
-Brooke's face, do you? I see him bow and smile as he passes your window,
-but I didn't know you'd got up a telegraph."
-
-                [Illustration: I see him bow and smile]
-
-"We haven't; don't be angry, and oh, don't tell him I said anything! It
-was only to show that I cared how you get on, and what is said here is
-said in confidence, you know," cried Meg, much alarmed at the thought of
-what might follow from her careless speech.
-
-"_I_ don't tell tales," replied Laurie, with his "high and mighty" air,
-as Jo called a certain expression which he occasionally wore. "Only if
-Brooke is going to be a thermometer, I must mind and have fair weather
-for him to report."
-
-"Please don't be offended. I didn't mean to preach or tell tales or be
-silly; I only thought Jo was encouraging you in a feeling which you'd be
-sorry for, by and by. You are so kind to us, we feel as if you were our
-brother, and say just what we think. Forgive me, I meant it kindly." And
-Meg offered her hand with a gesture both affectionate and timid.
-
-Ashamed of his momentary pique, Laurie squeezed the kind little hand,
-and said frankly, "I'm the one to be forgiven; I'm cross, and have been
-out of sorts all day. I like to have you tell me my faults and be
-sisterly, so don't mind if I am grumpy sometimes; I thank you all the
-same."
-
-Bent on showing that he was not offended, he made himself as agreeable
-as possible,--wound cotton for Meg, recited poetry to please Jo, shook
-down cones for Beth, and helped Amy with her ferns, proving himself a
-fit person to belong to the "Busy Bee Society." In the midst of an
-animated discussion on the domestic habits of turtles (one of those
-amiable creatures having strolled up from the river), the faint sound of
-a bell warned them that Hannah had put the tea "to draw," and they would
-just have time to get home to supper.
-
-"May I come again?" asked Laurie.
-
-"Yes, if you are good, and love your book, as the boys in the primer are
-told to do," said Meg smiling.
-
-"I'll try."
-
-"Then you may come, and I'll teach you to knit as the Scotchmen do;
-there's a demand for socks just now," added Jo, waving hers, like a big
-blue worsted banner, as they parted at the gate.
-
-That night, when Beth played to Mr. Laurence in the twilight, Laurie,
-standing in the shadow of the curtain, listened to the little David,
-whose simple music always quieted his moody spirit, and watched the old
-man, who sat with his gray head on his hand, thinking tender thoughts of
-the dead child he had loved so much. Remembering the conversation of the
-afternoon, the boy said to himself, with the resolve to make the
-sacrifice cheerfully, "I'll let my castle go, and stay with the dear old
-gentleman while he needs me, for I am all he has."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                    [Illustration: Jo was very busy]
-
-                                  XIV.
-
-                                SECRETS.
-
-
-Jo was very busy in the garret, for the October days began to grow
-chilly, and the afternoons were short. For two or three hours the sun
-lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa,
-writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before her,
-while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams overhead, accompanied
-by his oldest son, a fine young fellow, who was evidently very proud of
-his whiskers. Quite absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away till the
-last page was filled, when she signed her name with a flourish, and
-threw down her pen, exclaiming,--
-
-"There, I've done my best! If this won't suit I shall have to wait till
-I can do better."
-
-Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript carefully through,
-making dashes here and there, and putting in many exclamation points,
-which looked like little balloons; then she tied it up with a smart red
-ribbon, and sat a minute looking at it with a sober, wistful expression,
-which plainly showed how earnest her work had been. Jo's desk up here
-was an old tin kitchen, which hung against the wall. In it she kept her
-papers and a few books, safely shut away from Scrabble, who, being
-likewise of a literary turn, was fond of making a circulating library of
-such books as were left in his way, by eating the leaves. From this tin
-receptacle Jo produced another manuscript; and, putting both in her
-pocket, crept quietly down stairs, leaving her friends to nibble her
-pens and taste her ink.
-
-She put on her hat and jacket as noiselessly as possible, and, going to
-the back entry window, got out upon the roof of a low porch, swung
-herself down to the grassy bank, and took a roundabout way to the road.
-Once there, she composed herself, hailed a passing omnibus, and rolled
-away to town, looking very merry and mysterious.
-
-If any one had been watching her, he would have thought her movements
-decidedly peculiar; for, on alighting, she went off at a great pace till
-she reached a certain number in a certain busy street; having found the
-place with some difficulty, she went into the door-way, looked up the
-dirty stairs, and, after standing stock still a minute, suddenly dived
-into the street, and walked away as rapidly as she came. This
-manœuvre she repeated several times, to the great amusement of a
-black-eyed young gentleman lounging in the window of a building
-opposite. On returning for the third time, Jo gave herself a shake,
-pulled her hat over her eyes, and walked up the stairs, looking as if
-she were going to have all her teeth out.
-
-There was a dentist's sign, among others, which adorned the entrance,
-and, after staring a moment at the pair of artificial jaws which slowly
-opened and shut to draw attention to a fine set of teeth, the young
-gentleman put on his coat, took his hat, and went down to post himself
-in the opposite door-way, saying, with a smile and a shiver,--
-
-"It's like her to come alone, but if she has a bad time she'll need some
-one to help her home."
-
-In ten minutes Jo came running down stairs with a very red face, and the
-general appearance of a person who had just passed through a trying
-ordeal of some sort. When she saw the young gentleman she looked
-anything but pleased, and passed him with a nod; but he followed, asking
-with an air of sympathy,--
-
-"Did you have a bad time?"
-
-"Not very."
-
-"You got through quickly."
-
-"Yes, thank goodness!"
-
-"Why did you go alone?"
-
-"Didn't want any one to know."
-
-"You're the oddest fellow I ever saw. How many did you have out?"
-
-Jo looked at her friend as if she did not understand him; then began to
-laugh, as if mightily amused at something.
-
-"There are two which I want to have come out, but I must wait a week."
-
-"What are you laughing at? You are up to some mischief, Jo," said
-Laurie, looking mystified.
-
-"So are you. What were you doing, sir, up in that billiard saloon?"
-
-"Begging your pardon, ma'am, it wasn't a billiard saloon, but a
-gymnasium, and I was taking a lesson in fencing."
-
-"I'm glad of that."
-
-"Why?"
-
-"You can teach me, and then when we play Hamlet, you can be Laertes, and
-we'll make a fine thing of the fencing scene."
-
-Laurie burst out with a hearty boy's laugh, which made several
-passers-by smile in spite of themselves.
-
-"I'll teach you whether we play Hamlet or not; it's grand fun, and will
-straighten you up capitally. But I don't believe that was your only
-reason for saying 'I'm glad,' in that decided way; was it, now?"
-
-"No, I was glad that you were not in the saloon, because I hope you
-never go to such places. Do you?"
-
-"Not often."
-
-"I wish you wouldn't."
-
-"It's no harm, Jo. I have billiards at home, but it's no fun unless you
-have good players; so, as I'm fond of it, I come sometimes and have a
-game with Ned Moffat or some of the other fellows."
-
-"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, for you'll get to liking it better and better,
-and will waste time and money, and grow like those dreadful boys. I did
-hope you'd stay respectable, and be a satisfaction to your friends,"
-said Jo, shaking her head.
-
-"Can't a fellow take a little innocent amusement now and then without
-losing his respectability?" asked Laurie, looking nettled.
-
-"That depends upon how and where he takes it. I don't like Ned and his
-set, and wish you'd keep out of it. Mother won't let us have him at our
-house, though he wants to come; and if you grow like him she won't be
-willing to have us frolic together as we do now."
-
-"Won't she?" asked Laurie anxiously.
-
-"No, she can't bear fashionable young men, and she'd shut us all up in
-bandboxes rather than have us associate with them."
-
-"Well, she needn't get out her bandboxes yet; I'm not a fashionable
-party, and don't mean to be; but I do like harmless larks now and then,
-don't you?"
-
-"Yes, nobody minds them, so lark away, but don't get wild, will you? or
-there will be an end of all our good times."
-
-"I'll be a double-distilled saint."
-
-"I can't bear saints: just be a simple, honest, respectable boy, and
-we'll never desert you. I don't know what I _should_ do if you acted
-like Mr. King's son; he had plenty of money, but didn't know how to
-spend it, and got tipsy and gambled, and ran away, and forged his
-father's name, I believe, and was altogether horrid."
-
-"You think I'm likely to do the same? Much obliged."
-
-"No, I don't--oh, _dear_, no!--but I hear people talking about money
-being such a temptation, and I sometimes wish you were poor; I shouldn't
-worry then."
-
-"Do you worry about me, Jo?"
-
-"A little, when you look moody or discontented, as you sometimes do; for
-you've got such a strong will, if you once get started wrong, I'm afraid
-it would be hard to stop you."
-
-Laurie walked in silence a few minutes, and Jo watched him, wishing she
-had held her tongue, for his eyes looked angry, though his lips still
-smiled as if at her warnings.
-
-"Are you going to deliver lectures all the way home?" he asked
-presently.
-
-"Of course not; why?"
-
-"Because if you are, I'll take a 'bus; if you are not, I'd like to walk
-with you, and tell you something very interesting."
-
-"I won't preach any more, and I'd like to hear the news immensely."
-
-"Very well, then; come on. It's a secret, and if I tell you, you must
-tell me yours."
-
-"I haven't got any," began Jo, but stopped suddenly, remembering that
-she had.
-
-"You know you have,--you can't hide anything; so up and 'fess, or I
-won't tell," cried Laurie.
-
-"Is your secret a nice one?"
-
-"Oh, isn't it! all about people you know, and such fun! You ought to
-hear it, and I've been aching to tell it this long time. Come, you
-begin."
-
-"You'll not say anything about it at home, will you?"
-
-"Not a word."
-
-"And you won't tease me in private?"
-
-"I never tease."
-
-"Yes, you do; you get everything you want out of people. I don't know
-how you do it, but you are a born wheedler."
-
-"Thank you; fire away."
-
-"Well, I've left two stories with a newspaper man, and he's to give his
-answer next week," whispered Jo, in her confidant's ear.
-
-"Hurrah for Miss March, the celebrated American authoress!" cried
-Laurie, throwing up his hat and catching it again, to the great delight
-of two ducks, four cats, five hens, and half a dozen Irish children; for
-they were out of the city now.
-
-                 [Illustration: Hurrah for Miss March]
-
-"Hush! It won't come to anything, I dare say; but I couldn't rest till I
-had tried, and I said nothing about it, because I didn't want any one
-else to be disappointed."
-
-"It won't fail. Why, Jo, your stories are works of Shakespeare,
-compared to half the rubbish that is published every day. Won't it be
-fun to see them in print; and sha'n't we feel proud of our authoress?"
-
-Jo's eyes sparkled, for it is always pleasant to be believed in; and a
-friend's praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs.
-
-"Where's _your_ secret? Play fair, Teddy, or I'll never believe you
-again," she said, trying to extinguish the brilliant hopes that blazed
-up at a word of encouragement.
-
-"I may get into a scrape for telling; but I didn't promise not to, so I
-will, for I never feel easy in my mind till I've told you any plummy bit
-of news I get. I know where Meg's glove is."
-
-"Is that all?" said Jo, looking disappointed, as Laurie nodded and
-twinkled, with a face full of mysterious intelligence.
-
-"It's quite enough for the present, as you'll agree when I tell you
-where it is."
-
-"Tell, then."
-
-Laurie bent, and whispered three words in Jo's ear, which produced a
-comical change. She stood and stared at him for a minute, looking both
-surprised and displeased, then walked on, saying sharply, "How do you
-know?"
-
-"Saw it."
-
-"Where?"
-
-"Pocket."
-
-"All this time?"
-
-"Yes; isn't that romantic?"
-
-"No, it's horrid."
-
-"Don't you like it?"
-
-"Of course I don't. It's ridiculous; it won't be allowed. My patience!
-what would Meg say?"
-
-"You are not to tell any one; mind that."
-
-"I didn't promise."
-
-"That was understood, and I trusted you."
-
-"Well, I won't for the present, any way; but I'm disgusted, and wish you
-hadn't told me."
-
-"I thought you'd be pleased."
-
-"At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away? No, thank you."
-
-"You'll feel better about it when somebody comes to take you away."
-
-"I'd like to see any one try it," cried Jo fiercely.
-
-"So should I!" and Laurie chuckled at the idea.
-
-"I don't think secrets agree with me; I feel rumpled up in my mind since
-you told me that," said Jo, rather ungratefully.
-
-"Race down this hill with me, and you'll be all right," suggested
-Laurie.
-
-No one was in sight; the smooth road sloped invitingly before her; and
-finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat
-and comb behind her, and scattering hair-pins as she ran. Laurie reached
-the goal first, and was quite satisfied with the success of his
-treatment; for his Atalanta came panting up, with flying hair, bright
-eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face.
-
-                     [Illustration: Jo darted away]
-
-"I wish I was a horse; then I could run for miles in this splendid air,
-and not lose my breath. It was capital; but see what a guy it's made me.
-Go, pick up my things, like a cherub as you are," said Jo, dropping down
-under a maple-tree, which was carpeting the bank with crimson leaves.
-
-Laurie leisurely departed to recover the lost property, and Jo bundled
-up her braids, hoping no one would pass by till she was tidy again. But
-some one did pass, and who should it be but Meg, looking particularly
-ladylike in her state and festival suit, for she had been making calls.
-
-"What in the world are you doing here?" she asked, regarding her
-dishevelled sister with well-bred surprise.
-
-"Getting leaves," meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she had
-just swept up.
-
-"And hair-pins," added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo's lap.
-"They grow on this road, Meg; so do combs and brown straw hats."
-
-"You have been running, Jo; how could you? When _will_ you stop such
-romping ways?" said Meg reprovingly, as she settled her cuffs, and
-smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties.
-
-"Never till I'm stiff and old, and have to use a crutch. Don't try to
-make me grow up before my time, Meg: it's hard enough to have you change
-all of a sudden; let me be a little girl as long as I can."
-
-As she spoke, Jo bent over the leaves to hide the trembling of her lips;
-for lately she had felt that Margaret was fast getting to be a woman,
-and Laurie's secret made her dread the separation which must surely come
-some time, and now seemed very near. He saw the trouble in her face, and
-drew Meg's attention from it by asking quickly, "Where have you been
-calling, all so fine?"
-
-"At the Gardiners', and Sallie has been telling me all about Belle
-Moffat's wedding. It was very splendid, and they have gone to spend the
-winter in Paris. Just think how delightful that must be!"
-
-"Do you envy her, Meg?" said Laurie.
-
-"I'm afraid I do."
-
-"I'm glad of it!" muttered Jo, tying on her hat with a jerk.
-
-"Why?" asked Meg, looking surprised.
-
-"Because if you care much about riches, you will never go and marry a
-poor man," said Jo, frowning at Laurie, who was mutely warning her to
-mind what she said.
-
-"I shall never '_go_ and marry' any one," observed Meg, walking on with
-great dignity, while the others followed, laughing, whispering, skipping
-stones, and "behaving like children," as Meg said to herself, though she
-might have been tempted to join them if she had not had her best dress
-on.
-
-For a week or two, Jo behaved so queerly that her sisters were quite
-bewildered. She rushed to the door when the postman rang; was rude to
-Mr. Brooke whenever they met; would sit looking at Meg with a woe-begone
-face, occasionally jumping up to shake, and then to kiss her, in a very
-mysterious manner; Laurie and she were always making signs to one
-another, and talking about "Spread Eagles," till the girls declared they
-had both lost their wits. On the second Saturday after Jo got out of the
-window, Meg, as she sat sewing at her window, was scandalized by the
-sight of Laurie chasing Jo all over the garden, and finally capturing
-her in Amy's bower. What went on there, Meg could not see; but shrieks
-of laughter were heard, followed by the murmur of voices and a great
-flapping of newspapers.
-
-"What shall we do with that girl? She never _will_ behave like a young
-lady," sighed Meg, as she watched the race with a disapproving face.
-
-"I hope she won't; she is so funny and dear as she is," said Beth, who
-had never betrayed that she was a little hurt at Jo's having secrets
-with any one but her.
-
-"It's very trying, but we never can make her _commy la fo_," added Amy,
-who sat making some new frills for herself, with her curls tied up in a
-very becoming way,--two agreeable things, which made her feel unusually
-elegant and ladylike.
-
-In a few minutes Jo bounced in, laid herself on the sofa, and affected
-to read.
-
-    [Illustration: Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read]
-
-"Have you anything interesting there?" asked Meg, with condescension.
-
-"Nothing but a story; won't amount to much, I guess," returned Jo,
-carefully keeping the name of the paper out of sight.
-
-"You'd better read it aloud; that will amuse us and keep you out of
-mischief," said Amy, in her most grown-up tone.
-
-"What's the name?" asked Beth, wondering why Jo kept her face behind the
-sheet.
-
-"The Rival Painters."
-
-"That sounds well; read it," said Meg.
-
-With a loud "Hem!" and a long breath, Jo began to read very fast. The
-girls listened with interest, for the tale was romantic, and somewhat
-pathetic, as most of the characters died in the end.
-
-"I like that about the splendid picture," was Amy's approving remark, as
-Jo paused.
-
-"I prefer the lovering part. Viola and Angelo are two of our favorite
-names; isn't that queer?" said Meg, wiping her eyes, for the "lovering
-part" was tragical.
-
-"Who wrote it?" asked Beth, who had caught a glimpse of Jo's face.
-
-The reader suddenly sat up, cast away the paper, displaying a flushed
-countenance, and, with a funny mixture of solemnity and excitement,
-replied in a loud voice, "Your sister."
-
-"You?" cried Meg, dropping her work.
-
-"It's very good," said Amy critically.
-
-"I knew it! I knew it! O my Jo, I _am_ so proud!" and Beth ran to hug
-her sister, and exult over this splendid success.
-
-Dear me, how delighted they all were, to be sure! how Meg wouldn't
-believe it till she saw the words, "Miss Josephine March," actually
-printed in the paper; how graciously Amy criticised the artistic parts
-of the story, and offered hints for a sequel, which unfortunately
-couldn't be carried out, as the hero and heroine were dead; how Beth got
-excited, and skipped and sung with joy; how Hannah came in to exclaim
-"Sakes alive, well I never!" in great astonishment at "that Jo's
-doin's;" how proud Mrs. March was when she knew it; how Jo laughed, with
-tears in her eyes, as she declared she might as well be a peacock and
-done with it; and how the "Spread Eagle" might be said to flap his wings
-triumphantly over the House of March, as the paper passed from hand to
-hand.
-
-"Tell us all about it." "When did it come?" "How much did you get for
-it?" "What _will_ father say?" "Won't Laurie laugh?" cried the family,
-all in one breath, as they clustered about Jo; for these foolish,
-affectionate people made a jubilee of every little household joy.
-
-"Stop jabbering, girls, and I'll tell you everything," said Jo,
-wondering if Miss Burney felt any grander over her "Evelina" than she
-did over her "Rival Painters." Having told how she disposed of her
-tales, Jo added, "And when I went to get my answer, the man said he
-liked them both, but didn't pay beginners, only let them print in his
-paper, and noticed the stories. It was good practice, he said; and when
-the beginners improved, any one would pay. So I let him have the two
-stories, and to-day this was sent to me, and Laurie caught me with it,
-and insisted on seeing it, so I let him; and he said it was good, and I
-shall write more, and he's going to get the next paid for, and I _am_ so
-happy, for in time I may be able to support myself and help the girls."
-
-Jo's breath gave out here; and, wrapping her head in the paper, she
-bedewed her little story with a few natural tears; for to be
-independent, and earn the praise of those she loved were the dearest
-wishes of her heart, and this seemed to be the first step toward that
-happy end.
-
-
-
-
-                                  XV.
-
-                              A TELEGRAM.
-
-
-  [Illustration: November is the most disagreeable month in the year]
-
-"November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said
-Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the
-frost-bitten garden.
-
-"That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite
-unconscious of the blot on her nose.
-
-"If something very pleasant should happen now, we should think it a
-delightful month," said Beth, who took a hopeful view of everything,
-even November.
-
-"I dare say; but nothing pleasant ever _does_ happen in this family,"
-said Meg, who was out of sorts. "We go grubbing along day after day,
-without a bit of change, and very little fun. We might as well be in a
-treadmill."
-
-"My patience, how blue we are!" cried Jo. "I don't much wonder, poor
-dear, for you see other girls having splendid times, while you grind,
-grind, year in and year out. Oh, don't I wish I could manage things for
-you as I do for my heroines! You're pretty enough and good enough
-already, so I'd have some rich relation leave you a fortune
-unexpectedly; then you'd dash out as an heiress, scorn every one who
-has slighted you, go abroad, and come home my Lady Something, in a blaze
-of splendor and elegance."
-
-"People don't have fortunes left them in that style now-a-days; men have
-to work, and women to marry for money. It's a dreadfully unjust world,"
-said Meg bitterly.
-
-"Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all; just wait ten years,
-and see if we don't," said Amy, who sat in a corner, making mud pies, as
-Hannah called her little clay models of birds, fruit, and faces.
-
-"Can't wait, and I'm afraid I haven't much faith in ink and dirt, though
-I'm grateful for your good intentions."
-
-Meg sighed, and turned to the frost-bitten garden again; Jo groaned, and
-leaned both elbows on the table in a despondent attitude, but Amy
-spatted away energetically; and Beth, who sat at the other window, said,
-smiling, "Two pleasant things are going to happen right away: Marmee is
-coming down the street, and Laurie is tramping through the garden as if
-he had something nice to tell."
-
-In they both came, Mrs. March with her usual question, "Any letter from
-father, girls?" and Laurie to say in his persuasive way, "Won't some of
-you come for a drive? I've been working away at mathematics till my head
-is in a muddle, and I'm going to freshen my wits by a brisk turn. It's a
-dull day, but the air isn't bad, and I'm going to take Brooke home, so
-it will be gay inside, if it isn't out. Come, Jo, you and Beth will go,
-won't you?"
-
-"Of course we will."
-
-"Much obliged, but I'm busy;" and Meg whisked out her work-basket, for
-she had agreed with her mother that it was best, for her at least, not
-to drive often with the young gentleman.
-
-"We three will be ready in a minute," cried Amy, running away to wash
-her hands.
-
-"Can I do anything for you, Madam Mother?" asked Laurie, leaning over
-Mrs. March's chair, with the affectionate look and tone he always gave
-her.
-
-"No, thank you, except call at the office, if you'll be so kind, dear.
-It's our day for a letter, and the postman hasn't been. Father is as
-regular as the sun, but there's some delay on the way, perhaps."
-
-A sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after Hannah came in with a
-letter.
-
-"It's one of them horrid telegraph things, mum," she said, handing it as
-if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage.
-
-          [Illustration: One of them horrid telegraph things]
-
-At the word "telegraph," Mrs. March snatched it, read the two lines it
-contained, and dropped back into her chair as white as if the little
-paper had sent a bullet to her heart. Laurie dashed down stairs for
-water, while Meg and Hannah supported her, and Jo read aloud, in a
-frightened voice,--
-
-    "MRS. MARCH:
-
-    "Your husband is very ill. Come at once.
-                           "S. HALE,
-                "Blank Hospital, Washington"
-
-How still the room was as they listened breathlessly, how strangely the
-day darkened outside, and how suddenly the whole world seemed to change,
-as the girls gathered about their mother, feeling as if all the
-happiness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them.
-Mrs. March was herself again directly; read the message over, and
-stretched out her arms to her daughters, saying, in a tone they never
-forgot, "I shall go at once, but it may be too late. O children,
-children, help me to bear it!"
-
-For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of sobbing in the
-room, mingled with broken words of comfort, tender assurances of help,
-and hopeful whispers that died away in tears. Poor Hannah was the first
-to recover, and with unconscious wisdom she set all the rest a good
-example; for, with her, work was the panacea for most afflictions.
-
-"The Lord keep the dear man! I won't waste no time a cryin', but git
-your things ready right away, mum," she said, heartily, as she wiped her
-face on her apron, gave her mistress a warm shake of the hand with her
-own hard one, and went away, to work like three women in one.
-
-"She's right; there's no time for tears now. Be calm, girls, and let me
-think."
-
-They tried to be calm, poor things, as their mother sat up, looking
-pale, but steady, and put away her grief to think and plan for them.
-
-"Where's Laurie?" she asked presently, when she had collected her
-thoughts, and decided on the first duties to be done.
-
-"Here, ma'am. Oh, let me do something!" cried the boy, hurrying from the
-next room, whither he had withdrawn, feeling that their first sorrow was
-too sacred for even his friendly eyes to see.
-
-"Send a telegram saying I will come at once. The next train goes early
-in the morning. I'll take that."
-
-"What else? The horses are ready; I can go anywhere, do anything," he
-said, looking ready to fly to the ends of the earth.
-
-"Leave a note at Aunt March's. Jo, give me that pen and paper."
-
-Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly copied pages, Jo drew the
-table before her mother, well knowing that money for the long, sad
-journey must be borrowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add
-a little to the sum for her father.
-
-"Now go, dear; but don't kill yourself driving at a desperate pace;
-there is no need of that."
-
-Mrs. March's warning was evidently thrown away; for five minutes later
-Laurie tore by the window on his own fleet horse, riding as if for his
-life.
-
-"Jo, run to the rooms, and tell Mrs. King that I can't come. On the way
-get these things. I'll put them down; they'll be needed, and I must go
-prepared for nursing. Hospital stores are not always good. Beth, go and
-ask Mr. Laurence for a couple of bottles of old wine: I'm not too proud
-to beg for father; he shall have the best of everything. Amy, tell
-Hannah to get down the black trunk; and, Meg, come and help me find my
-things, for I'm half bewildered."
-
-Writing, thinking, and directing, all at once, might well bewilder the
-poor lady, and Meg begged her to sit quietly in her room for a little
-while, and let them work. Every one scattered like leaves before a gust
-of wind; and the quiet, happy household was broken up as suddenly as if
-the paper had been an evil spell.
-
-Mr. Laurence came hurrying back with Beth, bringing every comfort the
-kind old gentleman could think of for the invalid, and friendliest
-promises of protection for the girls during the mother's absence, which
-comforted her very much. There was nothing he didn't offer, from his own
-dressing-gown to himself as escort. But that last was impossible. Mrs.
-March would not hear of the old gentleman's undertaking the long
-journey; yet an expression of relief was visible when he spoke of it,
-for anxiety ill fits one for travelling. He saw the look, knit his heavy
-eyebrows, rubbed his hands, and marched abruptly away, saying he'd be
-back directly. No one had time to think of him again till, as Meg ran
-through the entry, with a pair of rubbers in one hand and a cup of tea
-in the other, she came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke.
-
-           [Illustration: She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke]
-
-"I'm very sorry to hear of this, Miss March," he said, in the kind,
-quiet tone which sounded very pleasantly to her perturbed spirit. "I
-came to offer myself as escort to your mother. Mr. Laurence has
-commissions for me in Washington, and it will give me real satisfaction
-to be of service to her there."
-
-Down dropped the rubbers, and the tea was very near following, as Meg
-put out her hand, with a face so full of gratitude, that Mr. Brooke
-would have felt repaid for a much greater sacrifice than the trifling
-one of time and comfort which he was about to make.
-
-"How kind you all are! Mother will accept, I'm sure; and it will be such
-a relief to know that she has some one to take care of her. Thank you
-very, very much!"
-
-Meg spoke earnestly, and forgot herself entirely till something in the
-brown eyes looking down at her made her remember the cooling tea, and
-lead the way into the parlor, saying she would call her mother.
-
-Everything was arranged by the time Laurie returned with a note from
-Aunt March, enclosing the desired sum, and a few lines repeating what
-she had often said before,--that she had always told them it was absurd
-for March to go into the army, always predicted that no good would come
-of it, and she hoped they would take her advice next time. Mrs. March
-put the note in the fire, the money in her purse, and went on with her
-preparations, with her lips folded tightly, in a way which Jo would have
-understood if she had been there.
-
-The short afternoon wore away; all the other errands were done, and Meg
-and her mother busy at some necessary needle-work, while Beth and Amy
-got tea, and Hannah finished her ironing with what she called a "slap
-and a bang," but still Jo did not come. They began to get anxious; and
-Laurie went off to find her, for no one ever knew what freak Jo might
-take into her head. He missed her, however, and she came walking in with
-a very queer expression of countenance, for there was a mixture of fun
-and fear, satisfaction and regret, in it, which puzzled the family as
-much as did the roll of bills she laid before her mother, saying, with a
-little choke in her voice, "That's my contribution towards making
-father comfortable and bringing him home!"
-
-"My dear, where did you get it? Twenty-five dollars! Jo, I hope you
-haven't done anything rash?
-
-"No, it's mine honestly; I didn't beg, borrow, or steal it. I earned it;
-and I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own."
-
-As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for
-all her abundant hair was cut short.
-
-"Your hair! Your beautiful hair!" "O Jo, how could you? Your one
-beauty." "My dear girl, there was no need of this." "She doesn't look
-like my Jo any more, but I love her dearly for it!"
-
-As every one exclaimed, and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, Jo
-assumed an indifferent air, which did not deceive any one a particle,
-and said, rumpling up the brown bush, and trying to look as if she liked
-it, "It doesn't affect the fate of the nation, so don't wail, Beth. It
-will be good for my vanity; I was getting too proud of my wig. It will
-do my brains good to have that mop taken off; my head feels deliciously
-light and cool, and the barber said I could soon have a curly crop,
-which will be boyish, becoming, and easy to keep in order. I'm
-satisfied; so please take the money, and let's have supper."
-
-"Tell me all about it, Jo. _I_ am not quite satisfied, but I can't blame
-you, for I know how willingly you sacrificed your vanity, as you call
-it, to your love. But, my dear, it was not necessary, and I'm afraid you
-will regret it, one of these days," said Mrs. March.
-
-"No, I won't!" returned Jo stoutly, feeling much relieved that her prank
-was not entirely condemned.
-
-"What made you do it?" asked Amy, who would as soon have thought of
-cutting off her head as her pretty hair.
-
-"Well, I was wild to do something for father," replied Jo, as they
-gathered about the table, for healthy young people can eat even in the
-midst of trouble. "I hate to borrow as much as mother does, and I knew
-Aunt March would croak; she always does, if you ask for a ninepence. Meg
-gave all her quarterly salary toward the rent, and I only got some
-clothes with mine, so I felt wicked, and was bound to have some money,
-if I sold the nose off my face to get it."
-
-"You needn't feel wicked, my child: you had no winter things, and got
-the simplest with your own hard earnings," said Mrs. March, with a look
-that warmed Jo's heart.
-
-"I hadn't the least idea of selling my hair at first, but as I went
-along I kept thinking what I could do, and feeling as if I'd like to
-dive into some of the rich stores and help myself. In a barber's window
-I saw tails of hair with the prices marked; and one black tail, not so
-thick as mine, was forty dollars. It came over me all of a sudden that I
-had one thing to make money out of, and without stopping to think, I
-walked in, asked if they bought hair, and what they would give for
-mine."
-
-"I don't see how you dared to do it," said Beth, in a tone of awe.
-
-"Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil his
-hair. He rather stared, at first, as if he wasn't used to having girls
-bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair. He said he didn't
-care about mine, it wasn't the fashionable color, and he never paid much
-for it in the first place; the work put into it made it dear, and so on.
-It was getting late, and I was afraid, if it wasn't done right away,
-that I shouldn't have it done at all, and you know when I start to do a
-thing, I hate to give it up; so I begged him to take it, and told him
-why I was in such a hurry. It was silly, I dare say, but it changed his
-mind, for I got rather excited, and told the story in my topsy-turvy
-way, and his wife heard, and said so kindly,--
-
-"'Take it, Thomas, and oblige the young lady; I'd do as much for our
-Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling.'"
-
-"Who was Jimmy?" asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as they
-went along.
-
-"Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such things make
-strangers feel, don't they? She talked away all the time the man
-clipped, and diverted my mind nicely."
-
-                    [Illustration: The man clipped]
-
-"Didn't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?" asked Meg, with a
-shiver.
-
-"I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that
-was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that; I will
-confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on
-the table, and felt only the short, rough ends on my head. It almost
-seemed as if I'd an arm or a leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and
-picked out a long lock for me to keep. I'll give it to you, Marmee, just
-to remember past glories by; for a crop is so comfortable I don't think
-I shall ever have a mane again."
-
-Mrs. March folded the wavy, chestnut lock, and laid it away with a short
-gray one in her desk. She only said "Thank you, deary," but something in
-her face made the girls change the subject, and talk as cheerfully as
-they could about Mr. Brooke's kindness, the prospect of a fine day
-to-morrow, and the happy times they would have when father came home to
-be nursed.
-
-No one wanted to go to bed, when, at ten o'clock, Mrs. March put by the
-last finished job, and said, "Come, girls." Beth went to the piano and
-played the father's favorite hymn; all began bravely, but broke down
-one by one, till Beth was left alone, singing with all her heart, for to
-her music was always a sweet consoler.
-
-"Go to bed and don't talk, for we must be up early, and shall need all
-the sleep we can get. Good-night, my darlings," said Mrs. March, as the
-hymn ended, for no one cared to try another.
-
-They kissed her quietly, and went to bed as silently as if the dear
-invalid lay in the next room. Beth and Amy soon fell asleep in spite of
-the great trouble, but Meg lay awake, thinking the most serious thoughts
-she had ever known in her short life. Jo lay motionless, and her sister
-fancied that she was asleep, till a stifled sob made her exclaim, as she
-touched a wet cheek,--
-
-"Jo, dear, what is it? Are you crying about father?"
-
-"No, not now."
-
-"What then?"
-
-"My--my hair!" burst out poor Jo, trying vainly to smother her emotion
-in the pillow.
-
-It did not sound at all comical to Meg, who kissed and caressed the
-afflicted heroine in the tenderest manner.
-
-"I'm not sorry," protested Jo, with a choke. "I'd do it again to-morrow,
-if I could. It's only the vain, selfish part of me that goes and cries
-in this silly way. Don't tell any one, it's all over now. I thought you
-were asleep, so I just made a little private moan for my one beauty. How
-came you to be awake?"
-
-"I can't sleep, I'm so anxious," said Meg.
-
-"Think about something pleasant, and you'll soon drop off."
-
-"I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever."
-
-"What did you think of?"
-
-"Handsome faces,--eyes particularly," answered Meg, smiling to herself,
-in the dark.
-
-"What color do you like best?"
-
-"Brown--that is, sometimes; blue are lovely."
-
-Jo laughed, and Meg sharply ordered her not to talk, then amiably
-promised to make her hair curl, and fell asleep to dream of living in
-her castle in the air.
-
-The clocks were striking midnight, and the rooms were very still, as a
-figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlid here,
-settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each
-unconscious face, to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed, and to
-pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter. As she lifted the
-curtain to look out into the dreary night, the moon broke suddenly from
-behind the clouds, and shone upon her like a bright, benignant face,
-which seemed to whisper in the silence, "Be comforted, dear soul! There
-is always light behind the clouds."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                        [Illustration: Letters]
-
-                                  XVI.
-
-                                LETTERS.
-
-
-In the cold gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp, and read their chapter
-with an earnestness never felt before; for now the shadow of a real
-trouble had come, the little books were full of help and comfort; and,
-as they dressed, they agreed to say good-by cheerfully and hopefully,
-and send their mother on her anxious journey unsaddened by tears or
-complaints from them. Everything seemed very strange when they went
-down,--so dim and still outside, so full of light and bustle within.
-Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even Hannah's familiar face
-looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen with her night-cap on.
-The big trunk stood ready in the hall, mother's cloak and bonnet lay on
-the sofa, and mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so pale and
-worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it very hard to
-keep their resolution. Meg's eyes kept filling in spite of herself; Jo
-was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more than once; and
-the little girls' wore a grave, troubled expression, as if sorrow was a
-new experience to them.
-
-Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near, and they sat waiting
-for the carriage, Mrs. March said to the girls, who were all busied
-about her, one folding her shawl, another smoothing out the strings of
-her bonnet, a third putting on her overshoes, and a fourth fastening up
-her travelling bag,--
-
-"Children, I leave you to Hannah's care and Mr. Laurence's protection.
-Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbor will guard you as
-if you were his own. I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you
-should take this trouble rightly. Don't grieve and fret when I am gone,
-or think that you can comfort yourselves by being idle and trying to
-forget. Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace.
-Hope and keep busy; and whatever happens, remember that you never can be
-fatherless."
-
-"Yes, mother."
-
-"Meg, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, consult Hannah, and, in
-any perplexity, go to Mr. Laurence. Be patient, Jo, don't get despondent
-or do rash things; write to me often, and be my brave girl, ready to
-help and cheer us all. Beth, comfort yourself with your music, and be
-faithful to the little home duties; and you, Amy, help all you can, be
-obedient, and keep happy safe at home."
-
-"We will, mother! we will!"
-
-The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen.
-That was the hard minute, but the girls stood it well: no one cried, no
-one ran away or uttered a lamentation, though their hearts were very
-heavy as they sent loving messages to father, remembering, as they
-spoke, that it might be too late to deliver them. They kissed their
-mother quietly, clung about her tenderly, and tried to wave their hands
-cheerfully when she drove away.
-
-Laurie and his grandfather came over to see her off, and Mr. Brooke
-looked so strong and sensible and kind that the girls christened him
-"Mr. Greatheart" on the spot.
-
-"Good-by, my darlings! God bless and keep us all!" whispered Mrs. March,
-as she kissed one dear little face after the other, and hurried into the
-carriage.
-
-As she rolled away, the sun came out, and, looking back, she saw it
-shining on the group at the gate, like a good omen. They saw it also,
-and smiled and waved their hands; and the last thing she beheld, as she
-turned the corner, was the four bright faces, and behind them, like a
-body-guard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful Hannah, and devoted Laurie.
-
-                    [Illustration: She rolled away]
-
-"How kind every one is to us!" she said, turning to find fresh proof of
-it in the respectful sympathy of the young man's face.
-
-"I don't see how they can help it," returned Mr. Brooke, laughing so
-infectiously that Mrs. March could not help smiling; and so the long
-journey began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful
-words.
-
-"I feel as if there had been an earthquake," said Jo, as their neighbors
-went home to breakfast, leaving them to rest and refresh themselves.
-
-"It seems as if half the house was gone," added Meg forlornly.
-
-Beth opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile
-of nicely-mended hose which lay on mother's table, showing that even in
-her last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them. It was a
-little thing, but it went straight to their hearts; and, in spite of
-their brave resolutions, they all broke down, and cried bitterly.
-
-Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings, and, when the
-shower showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with a
-coffee-pot.
-
-"Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don't fret.
-Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let's fall to work,
-and be a credit to the family."
-
-Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that
-morning. No one could resist her persuasive nods, or the fragrant
-invitation issuing from the nose of the coffee-pot. They drew up to the
-table, exchanged their handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes
-were all right again.
-
-"'Hope and keep busy;' that's the motto for us, so let's see who will
-remember it best. I shall go to Aunt March, as usual. Oh, won't she
-lecture though!" said Jo, as she sipped with returning spirit.
-
-"I shall go to my Kings, though I'd much rather stay at home and attend
-to things here," said Meg, wishing she hadn't made her eyes so red.
-
-"No need of that; Beth and I can keep house perfectly well," put in Amy,
-with an important air.
-
-"Hannah will tell us what to do; and we'll have everything nice when you
-come home," added Beth, getting out her mop and dish-tub without delay.
-
-"I think anxiety is very interesting," observed Amy, eating sugar,
-pensively.
-
-The girls couldn't help laughing, and felt better for it, though Meg
-shook her head at the young lady who could find consolation in a
-sugar-bowl.
-
-The sight of the turn-overs made Jo sober again; and when the two went
-out to their daily tasks, they looked sorrowfully back at the window
-where they were accustomed to see their mother's face. It was gone; but
-Beth had remembered the little household ceremony, and there she was,
-nodding away at them like a rosy-faced mandarin.
-
-"That's so like my Beth!" said Jo, waving her hat, with a grateful face.
-"Good-by, Meggy; I hope the Kings won't train to-day. Don't fret about
-father, dear," she added, as they parted.
-
-"And I hope Aunt March won't croak. Your hair _is_ becoming, and it
-looks very boyish and nice," returned Meg, trying not to smile at the
-curly head, which looked comically small on her tall sister's shoulders.
-
-"That's my only comfort;" and, touching her hat _à la_ Laurie, away went
-Jo, feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day.
-
-News from their father comforted the girls very much; for, though
-dangerously ill, the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had
-already done him good. Mr. Brooke sent a bulletin every day, and, as the
-head of the family, Meg insisted on reading the despatches, which grew
-more and more cheering as the week passed. At first, every one was eager
-to write, and plump envelopes were carefully poked into the letter-box
-by one or other of the sisters, who felt rather important with their
-Washington correspondence. As one of these packets contained
-characteristic notes from the party, we will rob an imaginary mail, and
-read them:--
-
-    "MY DEAREST MOTHER,--
-
-    "It is impossible to tell you how happy your last letter made
-    us, for the news was so good we couldn't help laughing and
-    crying over it. How very kind Mr. Brooke is, and how fortunate
-    that Mr. Laurence's business detains him near you so long,
-    since he is so useful to you and father. The girls are all as
-    good as gold. Jo helps me with the sewing, and insists on doing
-    all sorts of hard jobs. I should be afraid she might overdo, if
-    I didn't know that her 'moral fit' wouldn't last long. Beth is
-    as regular about her tasks as a clock, and never forgets what
-    you told her. She grieves about father, and looks sober except
-    when she is at her little piano. Amy minds me nicely, and I
-    take great care of her. She does her own hair, and I am
-    teaching her to make button-holes and mend her stockings. She
-    tries very hard, and I know you will be pleased with her
-    improvement when you come. Mr. Laurence watches over us like a
-    motherly old hen, as Jo says; and Laurie is very kind and
-    neighborly. He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue
-    sometimes, and feel like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah
-    is a perfect saint; she does not scold at all, and always calls
-    me Miss 'Margaret,' which is quite proper, you know, and treats
-    me with respect. We are all well and busy; but we long, day
-    and night, to have you back. Give my dearest love to father,
-    and believe me, ever your own
-                                                              "MEG."
-
-This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to
-the next, which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper,
-ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed
-letters:--
-
-    "MY PRECIOUS MARMEE,--
-
-    "Three cheers for dear father! Brooke was a trump to telegraph
-    right off, and let us know the minute he was better. I rushed
-    up garret when the letter came, and tried to thank God for
-    being so good to us; but I could only cry, and say, 'I'm glad!
-    I'm glad!' Didn't that do as well as a regular prayer? for I
-    felt a great many in my heart. We have such funny times; and
-    now I can enjoy them, for every one is so desperately good,
-    it's like living in a nest of turtle-doves. You'd laugh to see
-    Meg head the table and try to be motherish. She gets prettier
-    every day, and I'm in love with her sometimes. The children are
-    regular archangels, and I--well, I'm Jo, and never shall be
-    anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came near having a
-    quarrel with Laurie. I freed my mind about a silly little
-    thing, and he was offended. I was right, but didn't speak as I
-    ought, and he marched home, saying he wouldn't come again till
-    I begged pardon. I declared I wouldn't, and got mad. It lasted
-    all day; I felt bad, and wanted you very much. Laurie and I are
-    both so proud, it's hard to beg pardon; but I thought he'd come
-    to it, for I _was_ in the right. He didn't come; and just at
-    night I remembered what you said when Amy fell into the river.
-    I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun
-    set on _my_ anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry. I
-    met him at the gate, coming for the same thing. We both
-    laughed, begged each other's pardon, and felt all good and
-    comfortable again.
-
-    "I made a 'pome' yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash; and,
-    as father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse
-    him. Give him the lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself
-    a dozen times for your
-                                                   "TOPSY-TURVY JO."
-
-                         "A SONG FROM THE SUDS.
-
-        "Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
-           While the white foam rises high;
-         And sturdily wash and rinse and wring,
-           And fasten the clothes to dry;
-         Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
-           Under the sunny sky.
-
-        "I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls
-           The stains of the week away,
-         And let water and air by their magic make
-           Ourselves as pure as they;
-         Then on the earth there would be indeed
-           A glorious washing-day!
-
-        "Along the path of a useful life,
-           Will heart's-ease ever bloom;
-         The busy mind has no time to think
-           Of sorrow or care or gloom;
-         And anxious thoughts may be swept away,
-           As we bravely wield a broom.
-
-        "I am glad a task to me is given,
-           To labor at day by day;
-         For it brings me health and strength and hope,
-           And I cheerfully learn to say,--
-         'Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel,
-           But, Hand, you shall work alway!'"
-
-    "DEAR MOTHER,--
-
-    "There is only room for me to send my love, and some pressed
-    pansies from the root I have been keeping safe in the house for
-    father to see. I read every morning, try to be good all day,
-    and sing myself to sleep with father's tune. I can't sing 'Land
-    of the Leal' now; it makes me cry. Every one is very kind, and
-    we are as happy as we can be without you. Amy wants the rest of
-    the page, so I must stop. I didn't forget to cover the holders,
-    and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day.
-
-    "Kiss dear father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon
-    to your loving
-                                                      "LITTLE BETH."
-
-                    [Illustration: I wind the clock]
-
-    "MA CHERE MAMMA,--
-
-    "We are all well I do my lessons always and never corroberate
-    the girls--Meg says I mean contradick so I put in both words
-    and you can take the properest. Meg is a great comfort to me
-    and lets me have jelly every night at tea its so good for me Jo
-    says because it keeps me sweet tempered. Laurie is not as
-    respeckful as he ought to be now I am almost in my teens, he
-    calls me Chick and hurts my feelings by talking French to me
-    very fast when I say Merci or Bon jour as Hattie King does. The
-    sleeves of my blue dress were all worn out, and Meg put in new
-    ones, but the full front came wrong and they are more blue than
-    the dress. I felt bad but did not fret I bear my troubles well
-    but I do wish Hannah would put more starch in my aprons and
-    have buckwheats every day. Can't she? Didn't I make that
-    interrigation point nice? Meg says my punchtuation and spelling
-    are disgraceful and I am mortyfied but dear me I have so many
-    things to do, I can't stop. Adieu, I send heaps of love to
-    Papa.
-                      "Your affectionate daughter,
-                                                 "AMY CURTIS MARCH."
-
-    "DEAR MIS MARCH,--
-
-    "I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is
-    clever and fly round right smart. Miss Meg is going to make a
-    proper good housekeeper; she hes the liking for it, and gits
-    the hang of things surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all for goin
-    ahead, but she don't stop to cal'k'late fust, and you never
-    know where she's like to bring up. She done out a tub of
-    clothes on Monday, but she starched 'em afore they was
-    wrenched, and blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should
-    a died a laughin. Beth is the best of little creeters, and a
-    sight of help to me, bein so forehanded and dependable. She
-    tries to learn everything, and really goes to market beyond her
-    years; likewise keeps accounts, with my help, quite wonderful.
-    We have got on very economical so fur; I don't let the girls
-    hev coffee only once a week, accordin to your wish, and keep em
-    on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does well about frettin, wearin
-    her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff. Mr. Laurie is as full
-    of didoes as usual, and turns the house upside down frequent;
-    but he heartens up the girls, and so I let em hev full swing.
-    The old gentleman sends heaps of things, and is rather wearin,
-    but means wal, and it aint my place to say nothin. My bread is
-    riz, so no more at this time. I send my duty to Mr. March, and
-    hope he's seen the last of his Pewmonia.
-                           "Yours Respectful,
-                                                "HANNAH MULLET."
-
-            [Illustration: Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet]
-
-    "HEAD NURSE OF WARD NO. 2,--
-
-    "All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition,
-    commissary department well conducted, the Home Guard under
-    Colonel Teddy always on duty, Commander-in-chief General
-    Laurence reviews the army daily, Quartermaster Mullett keeps
-    order in camp, and Major Lion does picket duty at night. A
-    salute of twenty-four guns was fired on receipt of good news
-    from Washington, and a dress parade took place at
-    head-quarters. Commander-in-chief sends best wishes, in which
-    he is heartily joined by
-                                                "COLONEL TEDDY."
-
-    "DEAR MADAM,--
-
-    "The little girls are all well; Beth and my boy report daily;
-    Hannah is a model servant, and guards pretty Meg like a dragon.
-    Glad the fine weather holds; pray make Brooke useful, and draw
-    on me for funds if expenses exceed your estimate. Don't let
-    your husband want anything. Thank God he is mending.
-                   "Your sincere friend and servant,
-                                               "JAMES LAURENCE."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                                 XVII.
-
-                            LITTLE FAITHFUL.
-
-
-For a week the amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied the
-neighborhood. It was really amazing, for every one seemed in a heavenly
-frame of mind, and self-denial was all the fashion. Relieved of their
-first anxiety about their father, the girls insensibly relaxed their
-praiseworthy efforts a little, and began to fall back into the old ways.
-They did not forget their motto, but hoping and keeping busy seemed to
-grow easier; and after such tremendous exertions, they felt that
-Endeavor deserved a holiday, and gave it a good many.
-
-Jo caught a bad cold through neglect to cover the shorn head enough, and
-was ordered to stay at home till she was better, for Aunt March didn't
-like to hear people read with colds in their heads. Jo liked this, and
-after an energetic rummage from garret to cellar, subsided on the sofa
-to nurse her cold with arsenicum and books. Amy found that housework and
-art did not go well together, and returned to her mud pies. Meg went
-daily to her pupils, and sewed, or thought she did, at home, but much
-time was spent in writing long letters to her mother, or reading the
-Washington despatches over and over. Beth kept on, with only slight
-relapses into idleness or grieving. All the little duties were
-faithfully done each day, and many of her sisters' also, for they were
-forgetful, and the house seemed like a clock whose pendulum was gone
-a-visiting. When her heart got heavy with longings for mother or fears
-for father, she went away into a certain closet, hid her face in the
-folds of a certain dear old gown, and made her little moan and prayed
-her little prayer quietly by herself. Nobody knew what cheered her up
-after a sober fit, but every one felt how sweet and helpful Beth was,
-and fell into a way of going to her for comfort or advice in their small
-affairs.
-
-All were unconscious that this experience was a test of character; and,
-when the first excitement was over, felt that they had done well, and
-deserved praise. So they did; but their mistake was in ceasing to do
-well, and they learned this lesson through much anxiety and regret.
-
-"Meg, I wish you'd go and see the Hummels; you know mother told us not
-to forget them," said Beth, ten days after Mrs. March's departure.
-
-"I'm too tired to go this afternoon," replied Meg, rocking comfortably
-as she sewed.
-
-"Can't you, Jo?" asked Beth.
-
-"Too stormy for me with my cold."
-
-"I thought it was almost well."
-
-"It's well enough for me to go out with Laurie, but not well enough to
-go to the Hummels'," said Jo, laughing, but looking a little ashamed of
-her inconsistency.
-
-"Why don't you go yourself?" asked Meg.
-
-"I _have_ been every day, but the baby is sick, and I don't know what to
-do for it. Mrs. Hummel goes away to work, and Lottchen takes care of it;
-but it gets sicker and sicker, and I think you or Hannah ought to go."
-
-Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go to-morrow.
-
-"Ask Hannah for some nice little mess, and take it round, Beth; the air
-will do you good," said Jo, adding apologetically, "I'd go, but I want
-to finish my writing."
-
-"My head aches and I'm tired, so I thought may be some of you would go,"
-said Beth.
-
-"Amy will be in presently, and she will run down for us," suggested Meg.
-
-"Well, I'll rest a little and wait for her."
-
-So Beth lay down on the sofa, the others returned to their work, and the
-Hummels were forgotten. An hour passed: Amy did not come; Meg went to
-her room to try on a new dress; Jo was absorbed in her story, and Hannah
-was sound asleep before the kitchen fire, when Beth quietly put on her
-hood, filled her basket with odds and ends for the poor children, and
-went out into the chilly air, with a heavy head, and a grieved look in
-her patient eyes. It was late when she came back, and no one saw her
-creep upstairs and shut herself into her mother's room. Half an hour
-after Jo went to "mother's closet" for something, and there found Beth
-sitting on the medicine chest, looking very grave, with red eyes, and a
-camphor-bottle in her hand.
-
-"Christopher Columbus! What's the matter?" cried Jo, as Beth put out her
-hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly,--
-
-"You've had the scarlet fever, haven't you?"
-
-"Years ago, when Meg did. Why?"
-
-"Then I'll tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby's dead!"
-
-"What baby?"
-
-"Mrs. Hummel's; it died in my lap before she got home," cried Beth, with
-a sob.
-
-"My poor dear, how dreadful for you! I ought to have gone," said Jo,
-taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother's big chair,
-with a remorseful face.
-
-"It wasn't dreadful, Jo, only so sad! I saw in a minute that it was
-sicker, but Lottchen said her mother had gone for a doctor, so I took
-baby and let Lotty rest. It seemed asleep, but all of a sudden it gave a
-little cry, and trembled, and then lay very still. I tried to warm its
-feet, and Lotty gave it some milk, but it didn't stir, and I knew it was
-dead."
-
-         [Illustration: It didn't stir, and I knew it was dead]
-
-"Don't cry, dear! What did you do?"
-
-"I just sat and held it softly till Mrs. Hummel came with the doctor. He
-said it was dead, and looked at Heinrich and Minna, who have got sore
-throats. 'Scarlet fever, ma'am. Ought to have called me before,' he said
-crossly. Mrs. Hummel told him she was poor, and had tried to cure baby
-herself, but now it was too late, and she could only ask him to help the
-others, and trust to charity for his pay. He smiled then, and was
-kinder; but it was very sad, and I cried with them till he turned round,
-all of a sudden, and told me to go home and take belladonna right away,
-or I'd have the fever."
-
-"No, you won't!" cried Jo, hugging her close, with a frightened look. "O
-Beth, if you should be sick I never could forgive myself! What _shall_
-we do?"
-
-"Don't be frightened, I guess I shan't have it badly. I looked in
-mother's book, and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat, and
-queer feelings like mine, so I did take some belladonna, and I feel
-better," said Beth, laying her cold hands on her hot forehead, and
-trying to look well.
-
-"If mother was only at home!" exclaimed Jo, seizing the book, and
-feeling that Washington was an immense way off. She read a page, looked
-at Beth, felt her head, peeped into her throat, and then said gravely;
-"You've been over the baby every day for more than a week, and among the
-others who are going to have it; so I'm afraid _you_ are going to have
-it, Beth. I'll call Hannah, she knows all about sickness."
-
-"Don't let Amy come; she never had it, and I should hate to give it to
-her. Can't you and Meg have it over again?" asked Beth, anxiously.
-
-"I guess not; don't care if I do; serve me right, selfish pig, to let
-you go, and stay writing rubbish myself!" muttered Jo, as she went to
-consult Hannah.
-
-The good soul was wide awake in a minute, and took the lead at once,
-assuring Jo that there was no need to worry; every one had scarlet
-fever, and, if rightly treated, nobody died,--all of which Jo believed,
-and felt much relieved as they went up to call Meg.
-
-"Now I'll tell you what we'll do," said Hannah, when she had examined
-and questioned Beth; "we will have Dr. Bangs, just to take a look at
-you, dear, and see that we start right; then we'll send Amy off to Aunt
-March's, for a spell, to keep her out of harm's way, and one of you
-girls can stay at home and amuse Beth for a day or two."
-
-"I shall stay, of course; I'm oldest," began Meg, looking anxious and
-self-reproachful.
-
-"_I_ shall, because it's my fault she is sick; I told mother I'd do the
-errands, and I haven't," said Jo decidedly.
-
-"Which will you have, Beth? there ain't no need of but one," said
-Hannah.
-
-"Jo, please;" and Beth leaned her head against her sister, with a
-contented look, which effectually settled that point.
-
-"I'll go and tell Amy," said Meg, feeling a little hurt, yet rather
-relieved, on the whole, for she did not like nursing, and Jo did.
-
-Amy rebelled outright, and passionately declared that she had rather
-have the fever than go to Aunt March. Meg reasoned, pleaded, and
-commanded: all in vain. Amy protested that she would _not_ go; and Meg
-left her in despair, to ask Hannah what should be done. Before she came
-back, Laurie walked into the parlor to find Amy sobbing, with her head
-in the sofa-cushions. She told her story, expecting to be consoled; but
-Laurie only put his hands in his pockets and walked about the room,
-whistling softly, as he knit his brows in deep thought. Presently he sat
-down beside her, and said, in his most wheedlesome tone, "Now be a
-sensible little woman, and do as they say. No, don't cry, but hear what
-a jolly plan I've got. You go to Aunt March's, and I'll come and take
-you out every day, driving or walking, and we'll have capital times.
-Won't that be better than moping here?"
-
-                 [Illustration: He sat down beside her]
-
-"I don't wish to be sent off as if I was in the way," began Amy, in an
-injured voice.
-
-"Bless your heart, child, it's to keep you well. You don't want to be
-sick, do you?"
-
-"No, I'm sure I don't; but I dare say I shall be, for I've been with
-Beth all the time."
-
-"That's the very reason you ought to go away at once, so that you may
-escape it. Change of air and care will keep you well, I dare say; or, if
-it does not entirely, you will have the fever more lightly. I advise you
-to be off as soon as you can, for scarlet fever is no joke, miss."
-
-"But it's dull at Aunt March's, and she is so cross," said Amy, looking
-rather frightened.
-
-"It won't be dull with me popping in every day to tell you how Beth is,
-and take you out gallivanting. The old lady likes me, and I'll be as
-sweet as possible to her, so she won't peck at us, whatever we do."
-
-"Will you take me out in the trotting wagon with Puck?"
-
-"On my honor as a gentleman."
-
-"And come every single day?"
-
-"See if I don't."
-
-"And bring me back the minute Beth is well?"
-
-"The identical minute."
-
-"And go to the theatre, truly?"
-
-"A dozen theatres, if we may."
-
-"Well--I guess--I will," said Amy slowly.
-
-"Good girl! Call Meg, and tell her you'll give in," said Laurie, with an
-approving pat, which annoyed Amy more than the "giving in."
-
-Meg and Jo came running down to behold the miracle which had been
-wrought; and Amy, feeling very precious and self-sacrificing, promised
-to go, if the doctor said Beth was going to be ill.
-
-"How is the little dear?" asked Laurie; for Beth was his especial pet,
-and he felt more anxious about her than he liked to show.
-
-"She is lying down on mother's bed, and feels better. The baby's death
-troubled her, but I dare say she has only got cold. Hannah _says_ she
-thinks so; but she _looks_ worried, and that makes me fidgety," answered
-Meg.
-
-"What a trying world it is!" said Jo, rumpling up her hair in a fretful
-sort of way. "No sooner do we get out of one trouble than down comes
-another. There doesn't seem to be anything to hold on to when mother's
-gone; so I'm all at sea."
-
-"Well, don't make a porcupine of yourself, it isn't becoming. Settle
-your wig, Jo, and tell me if I shall telegraph to your mother, or do
-anything?" asked Laurie, who never had been reconciled to the loss of
-his friend's one beauty.
-
-"That is what troubles me," said Meg. "I think we ought to tell her if
-Beth is really ill, but Hannah says we mustn't, for mother can't leave
-father, and it will only make them anxious. Beth won't be sick long, and
-Hannah knows just what to do, and mother said we were to mind her, so I
-suppose we must, but it doesn't seem quite right to me."
-
-"Hum, well, I can't say; suppose you ask grandfather after the doctor
-has been."
-
-"We will. Jo, go and get Dr. Bangs at once," commanded Meg; "we can't
-decide anything till he has been."
-
-"Stay where you are, Jo; I'm errand-boy to this establishment," said
-Laurie, taking up his cap.
-
-"I'm afraid you are busy," began Meg.
-
-"No, I've done my lessons for the day."
-
-"Do you study in vacation time?" asked Jo.
-
-"I follow the good example my neighbors set me," was Laurie's answer, as
-he swung himself out of the room.
-
-"I have great hopes of my boy," observed Jo, watching him fly over the
-fence with an approving smile.
-
-"He does very well--for a boy," was Meg's somewhat ungracious answer,
-for the subject did not interest her.
-
-Dr. Bangs came, said Beth had symptoms of the fever, but thought she
-would have it lightly, though he looked sober over the Hummel story. Amy
-was ordered off at once, and provided with something to ward off danger,
-she departed in great state, with Jo and Laurie as escort.
-
-Aunt March received them with her usual hospitality.
-
-"What do you want now?" she asked, looking sharply over her spectacles,
-while the parrot, sitting on the back of her chair, called out,--
-
-                 [Illustration: What do you want now?]
-
-"Go away. No boys allowed here."
-
-Laurie retired to the window, and Jo told her story.
-
-"No more than I expected, if you are allowed to go poking about among
-poor folks. Amy can stay and make herself useful if she isn't sick,
-which I've no doubt she will be,--looks like it now. Don't cry, child,
-it worries me to hear people sniff."
-
-Amy _was_ on the point of crying, but Laurie slyly pulled the parrot's
-tail, which caused Polly to utter an astonished croak, and call out,--
-
-"Bless my boots!" in such a funny way, that she laughed instead.
-
-"What do you hear from your mother?" asked the old lady gruffly.
-
-"Father is much better," replied Jo, trying to keep sober.
-
-"Oh, is he? Well, that won't last long, I fancy; March never had any
-stamina," was the cheerful reply.
-
-"Ha, ha! never say die, take a pinch of snuff, good by, good by!"
-squalled Polly, dancing on her perch, and clawing at the old lady's cap
-as Laurie tweaked him in the rear.
-
-"Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird! and, Jo, you'd better go
-at once; it isn't proper to be gadding about so late with a rattle-pated
-boy like--"
-
-"Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird!" cried Polly, tumbling
-off the chair with a bounce, and running to peck the "rattle-pated" boy,
-who was shaking with laughter at the last speech.
-
-"I don't think I _can_ bear it, but I'll try," thought Amy, as she was
-left alone with Aunt March.
-
-"Get along, you fright!" screamed Polly; and at that rude speech Amy
-could not restrain a sniff.
-
-
-
-
-                                 XVIII.
-
-                               DARK DAYS.
-
-
-                [Illustration: Beth did have the fever]
-
-Beth did have the fever, and was much sicker than any one but Hannah and
-the doctor suspected. The girls knew nothing about illness, and Mr.
-Laurence was not allowed to see her, so Hannah had everything all her
-own way, and busy Dr. Bangs did his best, but left a good deal to the
-excellent nurse. Meg stayed at home, lest she should infect the Kings,
-and kept house, feeling very anxious and a little guilty when she wrote
-letters in which no mention was made of Beth's illness. She could not
-think it right to deceive her mother, but she had been bidden to mind
-Hannah, and Hannah wouldn't hear of "Mrs. March bein' told, and worried
-just for sech a trifle." Jo devoted herself to Beth day and night; not a
-hard task, for Beth was very patient, and bore her pain uncomplainingly
-as long as she could control herself. But there came a time when during
-the fever fits she began to talk in a hoarse, broken voice, to play on
-the coverlet, as if on her beloved little piano, and try to sing with a
-throat so swollen that there was no music left; a time when she did not
-know the familiar faces round her, but addressed them by wrong names,
-and called imploringly for her mother. Then Jo grew frightened, Meg
-begged to be allowed to write the truth, and even Hannah said she "would
-think of it, though there was no danger _yet_." A letter from Washington
-added to their trouble, for Mr. March had had a relapse, and could not
-think of coming home for a long while.
-
-How dark the days seemed now, how sad and lonely the house, and how
-heavy were the hearts of the sisters as they worked and waited, while
-the shadow of death hovered over the once happy home! Then it was that
-Margaret, sitting alone with tears dropping often on her work, felt how
-rich she had been in things more precious than any luxuries money could
-buy,--in love, protection, peace, and health, the real blessings of
-life. Then it was that Jo, living in the darkened room, with that
-suffering little sister always before her eyes, and that pathetic voice
-sounding in her ears, learned to see the beauty and the sweetness of
-Beth's nature, to feel how deep and tender a place she filled in all
-hearts, and to acknowledge the worth of Beth's unselfish ambition, to
-live for others, and make home happy by the exercise of those simple
-virtues which all may possess, and which all should love and value more
-than talent, wealth, or beauty. And Amy, in her exile, longed eagerly to
-be at home, that she might work for Beth, feeling now that no service
-would be hard or irksome, and remembering, with regretful grief, how
-many neglected tasks those willing hands had done for her. Laurie
-haunted the house like a restless ghost, and Mr. Laurence locked the
-grand piano, because he could not bear to be reminded of the young
-neighbor who used to make the twilight pleasant for him. Every one
-missed Beth. The milkman, baker, grocer, and butcher inquired how she
-did; poor Mrs. Hummel came to beg pardon for her thoughtlessness, and to
-get a shroud for Minna; the neighbors sent all sorts of comforts and
-good wishes, and even those who knew her best were surprised to find how
-many friends shy little Beth had made.
-
-Meanwhile she lay on her bed with old Joanna at her side, for even in
-her wanderings she did not forget her forlorn _protégé_. She longed for
-her cats, but would not have them brought, lest they should get sick;
-and, in her quiet hours, she was full of anxiety about Jo. She sent
-loving messages to Amy, bade them tell her mother that she would write
-soon; and often begged for pencil and paper to try to say a word, that
-father might not think she had neglected him. But soon even these
-intervals of consciousness ended, and she lay hour after hour, tossing
-to and fro, with incoherent words on her lips, or sank into a heavy
-sleep which brought her no refreshment. Dr. Bangs came twice a day,
-Hannah sat up at night, Meg kept a telegram in her desk all ready to
-send off at any minute, and Jo never stirred from Beth's side.
-
-The first of December was a wintry day indeed to them, for a bitter wind
-blew, snow fell fast, and the year seemed getting ready for its death.
-When Dr. Bangs came that morning, he looked long at Beth, held the hot
-hand in both his own a minute, and laid it gently down, saying, in a low
-tone, to Hannah,--
-
-"If Mrs. March _can_ leave her husband, she'd better be sent for."
-
-Hannah nodded without speaking, for her lips twitched nervously; Meg
-dropped down into a chair as the strength seemed to go out of her limbs
-at the sound of those words; and Jo, after standing with a pale face for
-a minute, ran to the parlor, snatched up the telegram, and, throwing on
-her things, rushed out into the storm. She was soon back, and, while
-noiselessly taking off her cloak, Laurie came in with a letter, saying
-that Mr. March was mending again. Jo read it thankfully, but the heavy
-weight did not seem lifted off her heart, and her face was so full of
-misery that Laurie asked quickly,--
-
-"What is it? is Beth worse?"
-
-"I've sent for mother," said Jo, tugging at her rubber boots with a
-tragical expression.
-
-"Good for you, Jo! Did you do it on your own responsibility?" asked
-Laurie, as he seated her in the hall chair, and took off the rebellious
-boots, seeing how her hands shook.
-
-"No, the doctor told us to."
-
-"O Jo, it's not so bad as that?" cried Laurie, with a startled face.
-
-"Yes, it is; she doesn't know us, she doesn't even talk about the
-flocks of green doves, as she calls the vine-leaves on the wall; she
-doesn't look like my Beth, and there's nobody to help us bear it; mother
-and father both gone, and God seems so far away I can't find Him."
-
-As the tears streamed fast down poor Jo's cheeks, she stretched out her
-hand in a helpless sort of way, as if groping in the dark, and Laurie
-took it in his, whispering, as well as he could, with a lump in his
-throat,--
-
-"I'm here. Hold on to me, Jo, dear!"
-
-She could not speak, but she did "hold on," and the warm grasp of the
-friendly human hand comforted her sore heart, and seemed to lead her
-nearer to the Divine arm which alone could uphold her in her trouble.
-Laurie longed to say something tender and comfortable, but no fitting
-words came to him, so he stood silent, gently stroking her bent head as
-her mother used to do. It was the best thing he could have done; far
-more soothing than the most eloquent words, for Jo felt the unspoken
-sympathy, and, in the silence, learned the sweet solace which affection
-administers to sorrow. Soon she dried the tears which had relieved her,
-and looked up with a grateful face.
-
-   [Illustration: Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do]
-
-"Thank you, Teddy, I'm better now; I don't feel so forlorn, and will try
-to bear it if it comes."
-
-"Keep hoping for the best; that will help you, Jo. Soon your mother will
-be here, and then everything will be right."
-
-"I'm so glad father is better; now she won't feel so bad about leaving
-him. Oh, me! it does seem as if all the troubles came in a heap, and I
-got the heaviest part on my shoulders," sighed Jo, spreading her wet
-handkerchief over her knees to dry.
-
-"Doesn't Meg pull fair?" asked Laurie, looking indignant.
-
-"Oh, yes; she tries to, but she can't love Bethy as I do; and she won't
-miss her as I shall. Beth is my conscience, and I _can't_ give her up. I
-can't! I can't!"
-
-Down went Jo's face into the wet handkerchief, and she cried
-despairingly; for she had kept up bravely till now, and never shed a
-tear. Laurie drew his hand across his eyes, but could not speak till he
-had subdued the choky feeling in his throat and steadied his lips. It
-might be unmanly, but he couldn't help it, and I am glad of it.
-Presently, as Jo's sobs quieted, he said hopefully, "I don't think she
-will die; she's so good, and we all love her so much, I don't believe
-God will take her away yet."
-
-"The good and dear people always do die," groaned Jo, but she stopped
-crying, for her friend's words cheered her up, in spite of her own
-doubts and fears.
-
-"Poor girl, you're worn out. It isn't like you to be forlorn. Stop a
-bit; I'll hearten you up in a jiffy."
-
-Laurie went off two stairs at a time, and Jo laid her wearied head down
-on Beth's little brown hood, which no one had thought of moving from the
-table where she left it. It must have possessed some magic, for the
-submissive spirit of its gentle owner seemed to enter into Jo; and, when
-Laurie came running down with a glass of wine, she took it with a smile,
-and said bravely, "I drink--Health to my Beth! You are a good doctor,
-Teddy, and _such_ a comfortable friend; how can I ever pay you?" she
-added, as the wine refreshed her body, as the kind words had done her
-troubled mind.
-
-"I'll send in my bill, by and by; and to-night I'll give you something
-that will warm the cockles of your heart better than quarts of wine,"
-said Laurie, beaming at her with a face of suppressed satisfaction at
-something.
-
-"What is it?" cried Jo, forgetting her woes for a minute, in her wonder.
-
-"I telegraphed to your mother yesterday, and Brooke answered she'd come
-at once, and she'll be here to-night, and everything will be all right.
-Aren't you glad I did it?"
-
-Laurie spoke very fast, and turned red and excited all in a minute, for
-he had kept his plot a secret, for fear of disappointing the girls or
-harming Beth. Jo grew quite white, flew out of her chair, and the moment
-he stopped speaking she electrified him by throwing her arms round his
-neck, and crying out, with a joyful cry, "O Laurie! O mother! I _am_ so
-glad!" She did not weep again, but laughed hysterically, and trembled
-and clung to her friend as if she was a little bewildered by the sudden
-news. Laurie, though decidedly amazed, behaved with great presence of
-mind; he patted her back soothingly, and, finding that she was
-recovering, followed it up by a bashful kiss or two, which brought Jo
-round at once. Holding on to the banisters, she put him gently away,
-saying breathlessly, "Oh, don't! I didn't mean to; it was dreadful of
-me; but you were such a dear to go and do it in spite of Hannah that I
-couldn't help flying at you. Tell me all about it, and don't give me
-wine again; it makes me act so."
-
-"I don't mind," laughed Laurie, as he settled his tie. "Why, you see I
-got fidgety, and so did grandpa. We thought Hannah was overdoing the
-authority business, and your mother ought to know. She'd never forgive
-us if Beth--well, if anything happened, you know. So I got grandpa to
-say it was high time we did something, and off I pelted to the office
-yesterday, for the doctor looked sober, and Hannah most took my head off
-when I proposed a telegram. I never _can_ bear to be 'lorded over;' so
-that settled my mind, and I did it. Your mother will come, I know, and
-the late train is in at two, A.M. I shall go for her; and you've only
-got to bottle up your rapture, and keep Beth quiet, till that blessed
-lady gets here."
-
-"Laurie, you're an angel! How shall I ever thank you?"
-
-"Fly at me again; I rather like it," said Laurie, looking
-mischievous,--a thing he had not done for a fortnight.
-
-"No, thank you. I'll do it by proxy, when your grandpa comes. Don't
-tease, but go home and rest, for you'll be up half the night. Bless you,
-Teddy, bless you!"
-
-Jo had backed into a corner; and, as she finished her speech, she
-vanished precipitately into the kitchen, where she sat down upon a
-dresser, and told the assembled cats that she was "happy, oh, _so_
-happy!" while Laurie departed, feeling that he had made rather a neat
-thing of it.
-
-"That's the interferingest chap I ever see; but I forgive him, and do
-hope Mrs. March is coming on right away," said Hannah, with an air of
-relief, when Jo told the good news.
-
-Meg had a quiet rapture, and then brooded over the letter, while Jo set
-the sick-room in order, and Hannah "knocked up a couple of pies in case
-of company unexpected." A breath of fresh air seemed to blow through the
-house, and something better than sunshine brightened the quiet rooms.
-Everything appeared to feel the hopeful change; Beth's bird began to
-chirp again, and a half-blown rose was discovered on Amy's bush in the
-window; the fires seemed to burn with unusual cheeriness; and every time
-the girls met, their pale faces broke into smiles as they hugged one
-another, whispering encouragingly, "Mother's coming, dear! mother's
-coming!" Every one rejoiced but Beth; she lay in that heavy stupor,
-alike unconscious of hope and joy, doubt and danger. It was a piteous
-sight,--the once rosy face so changed and vacant, the once busy hands so
-weak and wasted, the once smiling lips quite dumb, and the once pretty,
-well-kept hair scattered rough and tangled on the pillow. All day she
-lay so, only rousing now and then to mutter, "Water!" with lips so
-parched they could hardly shape the word; all day Jo and Meg hovered
-over her, watching, waiting, hoping, and trusting in God and mother; and
-all day the snow fell, the bitter wind raged, and the hours dragged
-slowly by. But night came at last; and every time the clock struck, the
-sisters, still sitting on either side the bed, looked at each other with
-brightening eyes, for each hour brought help nearer. The doctor had been
-in to say that some change, for better or worse, would probably take
-place about midnight, at which time he would return.
-
-Hannah, quite worn out, lay down on the sofa at the bed's foot, and fell
-fast asleep; Mr. Laurence marched to and fro in the parlor, feeling that
-he would rather face a rebel battery than Mrs. March's anxious
-countenance as she entered; Laurie lay on the rug, pretending to rest,
-but staring into the fire with the thoughtful look which made his black
-eyes beautifully soft and clear.
-
-The girls never forgot that night, for no sleep came to them as they
-kept their watch, with that dreadful sense of powerlessness which comes
-to us in hours like those.
-
-"If God spares Beth I never will complain again," whispered Meg
-earnestly.
-
-"If God spares Beth I'll try to love and serve Him all my life,"
-answered Jo, with equal fervor.
-
-"I wish I had no heart, it aches so," sighed Meg, after a pause.
-
-"If life is often as hard as this, I don't see how we ever shall get
-through it," added her sister despondently.
-
-Here the clock struck twelve, and both forgot themselves in watching
-Beth, for they fancied a change passed over her wan face. The house was
-still as death, and nothing but the wailing of the wind broke the deep
-hush. Weary Hannah slept on, and no one but the sisters saw the pale
-shadow which seemed to fall upon the little bed. An hour went by, and
-nothing happened except Laurie's quiet departure for the station.
-Another hour,--still no one came; and anxious fears of delay in the
-storm, or accidents by the way, or, worst of all, a great grief at
-Washington, haunted the poor girls.
-
-It was past two, when Jo, who stood at the window thinking how dreary
-the world looked in its winding-sheet of snow, heard a movement by the
-bed, and, turning quickly, saw Meg kneeling before their mother's
-easy-chair, with her face hidden. A dreadful fear passed coldly over Jo,
-as she thought, "Beth is dead, and Meg is afraid to tell me."
-
-She was back at her post in an instant, and to her excited eyes a great
-change seemed to have taken place. The fever flush and the look of pain
-were gone, and the beloved little face looked so pale and peaceful in
-its utter repose, that Jo felt no desire to weep or to lament. Leaning
-low over this dearest of her sisters, she kissed the damp forehead with
-her heart on her lips, and softly whispered, "Good-by, my Beth;
-good-by!"
-
-As if waked by the stir, Hannah started out of her sleep, hurried to the
-bed, looked at Beth, felt her hands, listened at her lips, and then,
-throwing her apron over her head, sat down to rock to and fro,
-exclaiming, under her breath, "The fever's turned; she's sleepin'
-nat'ral; her skin's damp, and she breathes easy. Praise be given! Oh, my
-goodness me!"
-
-Before the girls could believe the happy truth, the doctor came to
-confirm it. He was a homely man, but they thought his face quite
-heavenly when he smiled, and said, with a fatherly look at them, "Yes,
-my dears, I think the little girl will pull through this time. Keep the
-house quiet; let her sleep, and when she wakes, give her--"
-
-What they were to give, neither heard; for both crept into the dark
-hall, and, sitting on the stairs, held each other close, rejoicing with
-hearts too full for words. When they went back to be kissed and cuddled
-by faithful Hannah, they found Beth lying, as she used to do, with her
-cheek pillowed on her hand, the dreadful pallor gone, and breathing
-quietly, as if just fallen asleep.
-
-"If mother would only come now!" said Jo, as the winter night began to
-wane.
-
-"See," said Meg, coming up with a white, half-opened rose, "I thought
-this would hardly be ready to lay in Beth's hand to-morrow if she--went
-away from us. But it has blossomed in the night, and now I mean to put
-it in my vase here, so that when the darling wakes, the first thing she
-sees will be the little rose, and mother's face."
-
-Never had the sun risen so beautifully, and never had the world seemed
-so lovely, as it did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo, as they looked out
-in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done.
-
-"It looks like a fairy world," said Meg, smiling to herself, as she
-stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight.
-
-"Hark!" cried Jo, starting to her feet.
-
-Yes, there was a sound of bells at the door below, a cry from Hannah,
-and then Laurie's voice saying, in a joyful whisper, "Girls, she's come!
-she's come!"
-
-
-
-
-                       [Illustration: Amy's Will]
-
-                                  XIX.
-
-                              AMY'S WILL.
-
-
-While these things were happening at home, Amy was having hard times at
-Aunt March's. She felt her exile deeply, and, for the first time in her
-life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home. Aunt March
-never petted any one; she did not approve of it; but she meant to be
-kind, for the well-behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt
-March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children,
-though she didn't think proper to confess it. She really did her best to
-make Amy happy, but, dear me, what mistakes she made! Some old people
-keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, can sympathize
-with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at home, and can
-hide wise lessons under pleasant plays, giving and receiving friendship
-in the sweetest way. But Aunt March had not this gift, and she worried
-Amy very much with her rules and orders, her prim ways, and long, prosy
-talks. Finding the child more docile and amiable than her sister, the
-old lady felt it her duty to try and counteract, as far as possible, the
-bad effects of home freedom and indulgence. So she took Amy in hand, and
-taught her as she herself had been taught sixty years ago,--a process
-which carried dismay to Amy's soul, and made her feel like a fly in the
-web of a very strict spider.
-
-     [Illustration: Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot]
-
-She had to wash the cups every morning, and polish up the old-fashioned
-spoons, the fat silver teapot, and the glasses, till they shone. Then
-she must dust the room, and what a trying job that was! Not a speck
-escaped Aunt March's eye, and all the furniture had claw legs, and much
-carving, which was never dusted to suit. Then Polly must be fed, the
-lap-dog combed, and a dozen trips upstairs and down, to get things, or
-deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame, and seldom left her big
-chair. After these tiresome labors, she must do her lessons, which was a
-daily trial of every virtue she possessed. Then she was allowed one hour
-for exercise or play, and didn't she enjoy it? Laurie came every day,
-and wheedled Aunt March, till Amy was allowed to go out with him, when
-they walked and rode, and had capital times. After dinner, she had to
-read aloud, and sit still while the old lady slept, which she usually
-did for an hour, as she dropped off over the first page. Then patchwork
-or towels appeared, and Amy sewed with outward meekness and inward
-rebellion till dusk, when she was allowed to amuse herself as she liked
-till tea-time. The evenings were the worst of all, for Aunt March fell
-to telling long stories about her youth, which were so unutterably dull
-that Amy was always ready to go to bed, intending to cry over her hard
-fate, but usually going to sleep before she had squeezed out more than a
-tear or two.
-
-If it had not been for Laurie, and old Esther, the maid, she felt that
-she never could have got through that dreadful time. The parrot alone
-was enough to drive her distracted, for he soon felt that she did not
-admire him, and revenged himself by being as mischievous as possible. He
-pulled her hair whenever she came near him, upset his bread and milk to
-plague her when she had newly cleaned his cage, made Mop bark by pecking
-at him while Madam dozed; called her names before company, and behaved
-in all respects like a reprehensible old bird. Then she could not endure
-the dog,--a fat, cross beast, who snarled and yelped at her when she
-made his toilet, and who lay on his back, with all his legs in the air
-and a most idiotic expression of countenance when he wanted something to
-eat, which was about a dozen times a day. The cook was bad-tempered, the
-old coachman deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took any notice of
-the young lady.
-
-       [Illustration: On his back, with all his legs in the air]
-
-Esther was a Frenchwoman, who had lived with "Madame," as she called her
-mistress, for many years, and who rather tyrannized over the old lady,
-who could not get along without her. Her real name was Estelle, but
-Aunt March ordered her to change it, and she obeyed, on condition that
-she was never asked to change her religion. She took a fancy to
-Mademoiselle, and amused her very much, with odd stories of her life in
-France, when Amy sat with her while she got up Madame's laces. She also
-allowed her to roam about the great house, and examine the curious and
-pretty things stored away in the big wardrobes and the ancient chests;
-for Aunt March hoarded like a magpie. Amy's chief delight was an Indian
-cabinet, full of queer drawers, little pigeon-holes, and secret places,
-in which were kept all sorts of ornaments, some precious, some merely
-curious, all more or less antique. To examine and arrange these things
-gave Amy great satisfaction, especially the jewel-cases, in which, on
-velvet cushions, reposed the ornaments which had adorned a belle forty
-years ago. There was the garnet set which Aunt March wore when she came
-out, the pearls her father gave her on her wedding-day, her lover's
-diamonds, the jet mourning rings and pins, the queer lockets, with
-portraits of dead friends, and weeping willows made of hair inside; the
-baby bracelets her one little daughter had worn; Uncle March's big
-watch, with the red seal so many childish hands had played with, and in
-a box, all by itself, lay Aunt March's wedding-ring, too small now for
-her fat finger, but put carefully away, like the most precious jewel of
-them all.
-
-                  [Illustration: I should choose this]
-
-"Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?" asked Esther, who
-always sat near to watch over and lock up the valuables.
-
-"I like the diamonds best, but there is no necklace among them, and I'm
-fond of necklaces, they are so becoming. I should choose this if I
-might," replied Amy, looking with great admiration at a string of gold
-and ebony beads, from which hung a heavy cross of the same.
-
-"I, too, covet that, but not as a necklace; ah, no! to me it is a
-rosary, and as such I should use it like a good Catholic," said Esther,
-eying the handsome thing wistfully.
-
-"Is it meant to use as you use the string of good-smelling wooden beads
-hanging over your glass?" asked Amy.
-
-"Truly, yes, to pray with. It would be pleasing to the saints if one
-used so fine a rosary as this, instead of wearing it as a vain bijou."
-
-"You seem to take a great deal of comfort in your prayers, Esther, and
-always come down looking quiet and satisfied. I wish I could."
-
-"If Mademoiselle was a Catholic, she would find true comfort; but, as
-that is not to be, it would be well if you went apart each day, to
-meditate and pray, as did the good mistress whom I served before Madame.
-She had a little chapel, and in it found solacement for much trouble."
-
-"Would it be right for me to do so too?" asked Amy, who, in her
-loneliness, felt the need of help of some sort, and found that she was
-apt to forget her little book, now that Beth was not there to remind her
-of it.
-
-"It would be excellent and charming; and I shall gladly arrange the
-little dressing-room for you if you like it. Say nothing to Madame, but
-when she sleeps go you and sit alone a while to think good thoughts, and
-pray the dear God to preserve your sister."
-
-Esther was truly pious, and quite sincere in her advice; for she had an
-affectionate heart, and felt much for the sisters in their anxiety. Amy
-liked the idea, and gave her leave to arrange the light closet next her
-room, hoping it would do her good.
-
-"I wish I knew where all these pretty things would go when Aunt March
-dies," she said, as she slowly replaced the shining rosary, and shut the
-jewel-cases one by one.
-
-"To you and your sisters. I know it; Madame confides in me; I witnessed
-her will, and it is to be so," whispered Esther, smiling.
-
-"How nice! but I wish she'd let us have them now. Pro-cras-ti-nation is
-not agreeable," observed Amy, taking a last look at the diamonds.
-
-"It is too soon yet for the young ladies to wear these things. The first
-one who is affianced will have the pearls--Madame has said it; and I
-have a fancy that the little turquoise ring will be given to you when
-you go, for Madame approves your good behavior and charming manners."
-
-"Do you think so? Oh, I'll be a lamb, if I can only have that lovely
-ring! It's ever so much prettier than Kitty Bryant's. I do like Aunt
-March, after all;" and Amy tried on the blue ring with a delighted face,
-and a firm resolve to earn it.
-
-From that day she was a model of obedience, and the old lady
-complacently admired the success of her training. Esther fitted up the
-closet with a little table, placed a footstool before it, and over it a
-picture taken from one of the shut-up rooms. She thought it was of no
-great value, but, being appropriate, she borrowed it, well knowing that
-Madame would never know it, nor care if she did. It was, however, a very
-valuable copy of one of the famous pictures of the world, and Amy's
-beauty-loving eyes were never tired of looking up at the sweet face of
-the divine mother, while tender thoughts of her own were busy at her
-heart. On the table she laid her little Testament and hymn-book, kept a
-vase always full of the best flowers Laurie brought her, and came every
-day to "sit alone, thinking good thoughts, and praying the dear God to
-preserve her sister." Esther had given her a rosary of black beads, with
-a silver cross, but Amy hung it up and did not use it, feeling doubtful
-as to its fitness for Protestant prayers.
-
-The little girl was very sincere in all this, for, being left alone
-outside the safe home-nest, she felt the need of some kind hand to hold
-by so sorely, that she instinctively turned to the strong and tender
-Friend, whose fatherly love most closely surrounds his little children.
-She missed her mother's help to understand and rule herself, but having
-been taught where to look, she did her best to find the way, and walk in
-it confidingly. But Amy was a young pilgrim, and just now her burden
-seemed very heavy. She tried to forget herself, to keep cheerful, and be
-satisfied with doing right, though no one saw or praised her for it. In
-her first effort at being very, very good, she decided to make her will,
-as Aunt March had done; so that if she _did_ fall ill and die, her
-possessions might be justly and generously divided. It cost her a pang
-even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were
-as precious as the old lady's jewels.
-
-During one of her play-hours she wrote out the important document as
-well as she could, with some help from Esther as to certain legal terms,
-and, when the good-natured Frenchwoman had signed her name, Amy felt
-relieved, and laid it by to show Laurie, whom she wanted as a second
-witness. As it was a rainy day, she went upstairs to amuse herself in
-one of the large chambers, and took Polly with her for company. In this
-room there was a wardrobe full of old-fashioned costumes, with which
-Esther allowed her to play, and it was her favorite amusement to array
-herself in the faded brocades, and parade up and down before the long
-mirror, making stately courtesies, and sweeping her train about, with a
-rustle which delighted her ears. So busy was she on this day that she
-did not hear Laurie's ring, nor see his face peeping in at her, as she
-gravely promenaded to and fro, flirting her fan and tossing her head, on
-which she wore a great pink turban, contrasting oddly with her blue
-brocade dress and yellow quilted petticoat. She was obliged to walk
-carefully, for she had on high-heeled shoes, and, as Laurie told Jo
-afterward, it was a comical sight to see her mince along in her gay
-suit, with Polly sidling and bridling just behind her, imitating her as
-well as he could, and occasionally stopping to laugh or exclaim, "Ain't
-we fine? Get along, you fright! Hold your tongue! Kiss me, dear! Ha!
-ha!"
-
-             [Illustration: Gravely promenaded to and fro]
-
-Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment, lest it
-should offend her majesty, Laurie tapped, and was graciously received.
-
-"Sit down and rest while I put these things away; then I want to consult
-you about a very serious matter," said Amy, when she had shown her
-splendor, and driven Polly into a corner. "That bird is the trial of my
-life," she continued, removing the pink mountain from her head, while
-Laurie seated himself astride of a chair. "Yesterday, when aunt was
-asleep, and I was trying to be as still as a mouse, Polly began to
-squall and flap about in his cage; so I went to let him out, and found a
-big spider there. I poked it out, and it ran under the bookcase; Polly
-marched straight after it, stooped down and peeped under the bookcase,
-saying, in his funny way, with a cock of his eye, 'Come out and take a
-walk, my dear.' I _couldn't_ help laughing, which made Poll swear, and
-aunt woke up and scolded us both."
-
-"Did the spider accept the old fellow's invitation?" asked Laurie,
-yawning.
-
-"Yes; out it came, and away ran Polly, frightened to death, and
-scrambled up on aunt's chair, calling out, 'Catch her! catch her! catch
-her!' as I chased the spider.
-
-"That's a lie! Oh lor!" cried the parrot, pecking at Laurie's toes.
-
-"I'd wring your neck if you were mine, you old torment," cried Laurie,
-shaking his fist at the bird, who put his head on one side, and gravely
-croaked, "Allyluyer! bless your buttons, dear!"
-
-"Now I'm ready," said Amy, shutting the wardrobe, and taking a paper out
-of her pocket. "I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is
-legal and right. I felt that I ought to do it, for life is uncertain and
-I don't want any ill-feeling over my tomb."
-
-                       [Illustration: Amy's Will]
-
-Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker, read
-the following document, with praiseworthy gravity, considering the
-spelling:--
-
-    "MY LAST WILL AND TESTIMENT.
-
-    "I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, do give and
-    bequeethe all my earthly property--viz. to wit:--namely
-
-    "To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of
-    art, including frames. Also my $100, to do what he likes with.
-
-    "To my mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with
-    pockets,--also my likeness, and my medal, with much love.
-
-    "To my dear sister Margaret, I give my turkquoise ring (if I get
-    it), also my green box with the doves on it, also my piece of
-    real lace for her neck, and my sketch of her as a memorial of
-    her 'little girl.'
-
-    "To Jo I leave my breast-pin, the one mended with sealing wax,
-    also my bronze inkstand--she lost the cover--and my most
-    precious plaster rabbit, because I am sorry I burnt up her
-    story.
-
-    "To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little
-    bureau, my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can
-    wear them being thin when she gets well. And I herewith also
-    leave her my regret that I ever made fun of old Joanna.
-
-    "To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeethe my
-    paper marshay portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did
-    say it hadn't any neck. Also in return for his great kindness in
-    the hour of affliction any one of my artistic works he likes,
-    Noter Dame is the best.
-
-    "To our venerable benefactor Mr. Laurence I leave my purple box
-    with a looking glass in the cover which will be nice for his
-    pens and remind him of the departed girl who thanks him for his
-    favors to her family, specially Beth.
-
-    "I wish my favorite playmate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk
-    apron and my gold-bead ring with a kiss.
-
-    "To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patch work
-    I leave hoping she 'will remember me, when it you see.'
-
-    "And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all
-    will be satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive every one,
-    and trust we may all meet when the trump shall sound. Amen.
-
-    "To this will and testiment I set my hand and seal on this 20th
-    day of Nov. Anni Domino 1861.
-                                                  "AMY CURTIS MARCH.
-
-                  {ESTELLE VALNOR,
-    "_Witnesses_: {
-                  {THEODORE LAURENCE."
-
-The last name was written in pencil, and Amy explained that he was to
-rewrite it in ink, and seal it up for her properly.
-
-"What put it into your head? Did any one tell you about Beth's giving
-away her things?" asked Laurie soberly, as Amy laid a bit of red tape,
-with sealing-wax, a taper, and a standish before him.
-
-She explained; and then asked anxiously, "What about Beth?"
-
-"I'm sorry I spoke; but as I did, I'll tell you. She felt so ill one day
-that she told Jo she wanted to give her piano to Meg, her cats to you,
-and the poor old doll to Jo, who would love it for her sake. She was
-sorry she had so little to give, and left locks of hair to the rest of
-us, and her best love to grandpa. _She_ never thought of a will."
-
-Laurie was signing and sealing as he spoke, and did not look up till a
-great tear dropped on the paper. Amy's face was full of trouble; but she
-only said, "Don't people put sort of postscripts to their wills,
-sometimes?"
-
-"Yes; 'codicils,' they call them."
-
-"Put one in mine then--that I wish _all_ my curls cut off, and given
-round to my friends. I forgot it; but I want it done, though it will
-spoil my looks."
-
-Laurie added it, smiling at Amy's last and greatest sacrifice. Then he
-amused her for an hour, and was much interested in all her trials. But
-when he came to go, Amy held him back to whisper, with trembling lips,
-"Is there really any danger about Beth?"
-
-"I'm afraid there is; but we must hope for the best, so don't cry,
-dear;" and Laurie put his arm about her with a brotherly gesture which
-was very comforting.
-
-When he had gone, she went to her little chapel, and, sitting in the
-twilight, prayed for Beth, with streaming tears and an aching heart,
-feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the
-loss of her gentle little sister.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-         [Illustration: Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side]
-
-                                  XX.
-
-                             CONFIDENTIAL.
-
-
-I don't think I have any words in which to tell the meeting of the
-mother and daughters; such hours are beautiful to live, but very hard to
-describe, so I will leave it to the imagination of my readers, merely
-saying that the house was full of genuine happiness, and that Meg's
-tender hope was realized; for when Beth woke from that long, healing
-sleep, the first objects on which her eyes fell _were_ the little rose
-and mother's face. Too weak to wonder at anything, she only smiled, and
-nestled close into the loving arms about her, feeling that the hungry
-longing was satisfied at last. Then she slept again, and the girls
-waited upon their mother, for she would not unclasp the thin hand which
-clung to hers even in sleep. Hannah had "dished up" an astonishing
-breakfast for the traveller, finding it impossible to vent her
-excitement in any other way; and Meg and Jo fed their mother like
-dutiful young storks, while they listened to her whispered account of
-father's state, Mr. Brooke's promise to stay and nurse him, the delays
-which the storm occasioned on the homeward journey, and the unspeakable
-comfort Laurie's hopeful face had given her when she arrived, worn out
-with fatigue, anxiety, and cold.
-
-What a strange, yet pleasant day that was! so brilliant and gay without,
-for all the world seemed abroad to welcome the first snow; so quiet and
-reposeful within, for every one slept, spent with watching, and a
-Sabbath stillness reigned through the house, while nodding Hannah
-mounted guard at the door. With a blissful sense of burdens lifted off,
-Meg and Jo closed their weary eyes, and lay at rest, like storm-beaten
-boats, safe at anchor in a quiet harbor. Mrs. March would not leave
-Beth's side, but rested in the big chair, waking often to look at,
-touch, and brood over her child, like a miser over some recovered
-treasure.
-
-Laurie, meanwhile, posted off to comfort Amy, and told his story so well
-that Aunt March actually "sniffed" herself, and never once said, "I told
-you so." Amy came out so strong on this occasion that I think the good
-thoughts in the little chapel really began to bear fruit. She dried her
-tears quickly, restrained her impatience to see her mother, and never
-even thought of the turquoise ring, when the old lady heartily agreed in
-Laurie's opinion, that she behaved "like a capital little woman." Even
-Polly seemed impressed, for he called her "good girl," blessed her
-buttons, and begged her to "come and take a walk, dear," in his most
-affable tone. She would very gladly have gone out to enjoy the bright
-wintry weather; but, discovering that Laurie was dropping with sleep in
-spite of manful efforts to conceal the fact, she persuaded him to rest
-on the sofa, while she wrote a note to her mother. She was a long time
-about it; and, when she returned, he was stretched out, with both arms
-under his head, sound asleep, while Aunt March had pulled down the
-curtains, and sat doing nothing in an unusual fit of benignity.
-
-After a while, they began to think he was not going to wake till night,
-and I'm not sure that he would, had he not been effectually roused by
-Amy's cry of joy at sight of her mother. There probably were a good
-many happy little girls in and about the city that day, but it is my
-private opinion that Amy was the happiest of all, when she sat in her
-mother's lap and told her trials, receiving consolation and compensation
-in the shape of approving smiles and fond caresses. They were alone
-together in the chapel, to which her mother did not object when its
-purpose was explained to her.
-
-"On the contrary, I like it very much, dear," looking from the dusty
-rosary to the well-worn little book, and the lovely picture with its
-garland of evergreen. "It is an excellent plan to have some place where
-we can go to be quiet, when things vex or grieve us. There are a good
-many hard times in this life of ours, but we can always bear them if we
-ask help in the right way. I think my little girl is learning this?"
-
-"Yes, mother; and when I go home I mean to have a corner in the big
-closet to put my books, and the copy of that picture which I've tried to
-make. The woman's face is not good,--it's too beautiful for me to
-draw,--but the baby is done better, and I love it very much. I like to
-think He was a little child once, for then I don't seem so far away, and
-that helps me."
-
-As Amy pointed to the smiling Christ-child on his mother's knee, Mrs.
-March saw something on the lifted hand that made her smile. She said
-nothing, but Amy understood the look, and, after a minute's pause, she
-added gravely,--
-
-"I wanted to speak to you about this, but I forgot it. Aunt gave me the
-ring to-day; she called me to her and kissed me, and put it on my
-finger, and said I was a credit to her, and she'd like to keep me
-always. She gave that funny guard to keep the turquoise on, as it's too
-big. I'd like to wear them, mother; can I?"
-
-"They are very pretty, but I think you're rather too young for such
-ornaments, Amy," said Mrs. March, looking at the plump little hand, with
-the band of sky-blue stones on the forefinger, and the quaint guard,
-formed of two tiny, golden hands clasped together.
-
-"I'll try not to be vain," said Amy. "I don't think I like it only
-because it's so pretty; but I want to wear it as the girl in the story
-wore her bracelet, to remind me of something."
-
-"Do you mean Aunt March?" asked her mother, laughing.
-
-"No, to remind me not to be selfish." Amy looked so earnest and sincere
-about it, that her mother stopped laughing, and listened respectfully to
-the little plan.
-
-"I've thought a great deal lately about my 'bundle of naughties,' and
-being selfish is the largest one in it; so I'm going to try hard to cure
-it, if I can. Beth isn't selfish, and that's the reason every one loves
-her and feels so bad at the thoughts of losing her. People wouldn't feel
-half so bad about me if I was sick, and I don't deserve to have them;
-but I'd like to be loved and missed by a great many friends, so I'm
-going to try and be like Beth all I can. I'm apt to forget my
-resolutions; but if I had something always about me to remind me, I
-guess I should do better. May I try this way?"
-
-"Yes; but I have more faith in the corner of the big closet. Wear your
-ring, dear, and do your best; I think you will prosper, for the sincere
-wish to be good is half the battle. Now I must go back to Beth. Keep up
-your heart, little daughter, and we will soon have you home again."
-
-That evening, while Meg was writing to her father, to report the
-traveller's safe arrival, Jo slipped up stairs into Beth's room, and,
-finding her mother in her usual place, stood a minute twisting her
-fingers in her hair, with a worried gesture and an undecided look.
-
-"What is it, deary?" asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand, with a face
-which invited confidence.
-
-"I want to tell you something, mother."
-
-"About Meg?"
-
-"How quickly you guessed! Yes, it's about her, and though it's a little
-thing, it fidgets me."
-
-"Beth is asleep; speak low, and tell me all about it. That Moffat hasn't
-been here, I hope?" asked Mrs. March rather sharply.
-
-"No, I should have shut the door in his face if he had," said Jo,
-settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet. "Last summer Meg
-left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences', and only one was returned.
-We forgot all about it, till Teddy told me that Mr. Brooke had it. He
-kept it in his waistcoat pocket, and once it fell out, and Teddy joked
-him about it, and Mr. Brooke owned that he liked Meg, but didn't dare
-say so, she was so young and he so poor. Now, isn't it a _dread_ful
-state of things?"
-
-"Do you think Meg cares for him?" asked Mrs. March, with an anxious
-look.
-
-"Mercy me! I don't know anything about love and such nonsense!" cried
-Jo, with a funny mixture of interest and contempt. "In novels, the girls
-show it by starting and blushing, fainting away, growing thin, and
-acting like fools. Now Meg does not do anything of the sort: she eats
-and drinks and sleeps, like a sensible creature: she looks straight in
-my face when I talk about that man, and only blushes a little bit when
-Teddy jokes about lovers. I forbid him to do it, but he doesn't mind me
-as he ought."
-
-"Then you fancy that Meg is _not_ interested in John?"
-
-"Who?" cried Jo, staring.
-
-"Mr. Brooke. I call him 'John' now; we fell into the way of doing so at
-the hospital, and he likes it."
-
-"Oh, dear! I know you'll take his part: he's been good to father, and
-you won't send him away, but let Meg marry him, if she wants to. Mean
-thing! to go petting papa and helping you, just to wheedle you into
-liking him;" and Jo pulled her hair again with a wrathful tweak.
-
-"My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you how it happened.
-John went with me at Mr. Laurence's request, and was so devoted to poor
-father that we couldn't help getting fond of him. He was perfectly open
-and honorable about Meg, for he told us he loved her, but would earn a
-comfortable home before he asked her to marry him. He only wanted our
-leave to love her and work for her, and the right to make her love him
-if he could. He is a truly excellent young man, and we could not refuse
-to listen to him; but I will not consent to Meg's engaging herself so
-young."
-
-"Of course not; it would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing;
-I felt it; and now it's worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry
-Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family."
-
-This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile; but she said gravely, "Jo, I
-confide in you, and don't wish you to say anything to Meg yet. When John
-comes back, and I see them together, I can judge better of her feelings
-toward him."
-
-"She'll see his in those handsome eyes that she talks about, and then
-it will be all up with her. She's got such a soft heart, it will melt
-like butter in the sun if any one looks sentimentally at her. She read
-the short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me
-when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and doesn't think John an ugly
-name, and she'll go and fall in love, and there's an end of peace and
-fun, and cosy times together. I see it all! they'll go lovering around
-the house, and we shall have to dodge; Meg will be absorbed, and no good
-to me any more; Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry her off,
-and make a hole in the family; and I shall break my heart, and
-everything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! why weren't we
-all boys, then there wouldn't be any bother."
-
-Jo leaned her chin on her knees, in a disconsolate attitude, and shook
-her fist at the reprehensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up
-with an air of relief.
-
-"You don't like it, mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send him about his
-business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all be happy together as we
-always have been."
-
-"I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to
-homes of your own, in time; but I do want to keep my girls as long as I
-can; and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only
-seventeen, and it will be some years before John can make a home for
-her. Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in
-any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one
-another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is
-conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My
-pretty, tender-hearted girl! I hope things will go happily with her."
-
-"Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?" asked Jo, as her mother's
-voice faltered a little over the last words.
-
-"Money is a good and useful thing, Jo; and I hope my girls will never
-feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much. I should
-like to know that John was firmly established in some good business,
-which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make
-Meg comfortable. I'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable
-position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money come with
-love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your
-good fortune; but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can
-be had in a plain little house, where the daily bread is earned, and
-some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content to see
-Meg begin humbly, for, if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the
-possession of a good man's heart, and that is better than a fortune."
-
-"I understand, mother, and quite agree; but I'm disappointed about Meg,
-for I'd planned to have her marry Teddy by and by, and sit in the lap of
-luxury all her days. Wouldn't it be nice?" asked Jo, looking up, with a
-brighter face.
-
-"He is younger than she, you know," began Mrs. March; but Jo broke in,--
-
-"Only a little; he's old for his age, and tall; and can be quite
-grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he's rich and generous and
-good, and loves us all; and _I_ say it's a pity my plan is spoilt."
-
-"I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown up enough for Meg, and altogether too
-much of a weathercock, just now, for any one to depend on. Don't make
-plans, Jo; but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We can't
-meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get 'romantic
-rubbish,' as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship."
-
-"Well, I won't; but I hate to see things going all criss-cross and
-getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten
-it out. I wish wearing flat-irons on our heads would keep us from
-growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats,--more's the
-pity!"
-
-"What's that about flat-irons and cats?" asked Meg, as she crept into
-the room, with the finished letter in her hand.
-
-"Only one of my stupid speeches. I'm going to bed; come, Peggy," said
-Jo, unfolding herself, like an animated puzzle.
-
-"Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that I send my love to
-John," said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter, and gave it
-back.
-
-"Do you call him 'John'?" asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes
-looking down into her mother's.
-
-"Yes; he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him,"
-replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one.
-
-"I'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good-night, mother, dear. It is so
-inexpressibly comfortable to have you here," was Meg's quiet answer.
-
-The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one; and, as she went
-away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, "She
-does not love John yet, but will soon learn to."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                        [Illustration: Letters]
-
-                                  XXI.
-
-               LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE.
-
-
-Jo's face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her,
-and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed
-it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned
-that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt
-sure of being told everything if she did not ask. She was rather
-surprised, therefore, when the silence remained unbroken, and Jo assumed
-a patronizing air, which decidedly aggravated Meg, who in her turn
-assumed an air of dignified reserve, and devoted herself to her mother.
-This left Jo to her own devices; for Mrs. March had taken her place as
-nurse, and bade her rest, exercise, and amuse herself after her long
-confinement. Amy being gone, Laurie was her only refuge; and, much as
-she enjoyed his society, she rather dreaded him just then, for he was an
-incorrigible tease, and she feared he would coax her secret from her.
-
-She was quite right, for the mischief-loving lad no sooner suspected a
-mystery than he set himself to find it out, and led Jo a trying life of
-it. He wheedled, bribed, ridiculed, threatened, and scolded; affected
-indifference, that he might surprise the truth from her; declared he
-knew, then that he didn't care; and, at last, by dint of perseverance,
-he satisfied himself that it concerned Meg and Mr. Brooke. Feeling
-indignant that he was not taken into his tutor's confidence, he set his
-wits to work to devise some proper retaliation for the slight.
-
-Meg meanwhile had apparently forgotten the matter, and was absorbed in
-preparations for her father's return; but all of a sudden a change
-seemed to come over her, and, for a day or two, she was quite unlike
-herself. She started when spoken to, blushed when looked at, was very
-quiet, and sat over her sewing, with a timid, troubled look on her face.
-To her mother's inquiries she answered that she was quite well, and Jo's
-she silenced by begging to be let alone.
-
-"She feels it in the air--love, I mean--and she's going very fast. She's
-got most of the symptoms,--is twittery and cross, doesn't eat, lies
-awake, and mopes in corners. I caught her singing that song he gave her,
-and once she said 'John,' as you do, and then turned as red as a poppy.
-Whatever shall we do?" said Jo, looking ready for any measures, however
-violent.
-
-"Nothing but wait. Let her alone, be kind and patient, and father's
-coming will settle everything," replied her mother.
-
-"Here's a note to you, Meg, all sealed up. How odd! Teddy never seals
-mine," said Jo, next day, as she distributed the contents of the little
-post-office.
-
-Mrs. March and Jo were deep in their own affairs, when a sound from Meg
-made them look up to see her staring at her note, with a frightened
-face.
-
-"My child, what is it?" cried her mother, running to her, while Jo tried
-to take the paper which had done the mischief.
-
-"It's all a mistake--he didn't send it. O Jo, how could you do it?" and
-Meg hid her face in her hands, crying as if her heart was quite broken.
-
-"Me! I've done nothing! What's she talking about?" cried Jo, bewildered.
-
-Meg's mild eyes kindled with anger as she pulled a crumpled note from
-her pocket, and threw it at Jo, saying reproachfully,--
-
-"You wrote it, and that bad boy helped you. How could you be so rude, so
-mean, and cruel to us both?"
-
-Jo hardly heard her, for she and her mother were reading the note, which
-was written in a peculiar hand.
-
-        [Illustration: Jo and her mother were reading the note]
-
-    "MY DEAREST MARGARET,--
-
-    "I can no longer restrain my passion, and must know my fate
-    before I return. I dare not tell your parents yet, but I think
-    they would consent if they knew that we adored one another. Mr.
-    Laurence will help me to some good place, and then, my sweet
-    girl, you will make me happy. I implore you to say nothing to
-    your family yet, but to send one word of hope through Laurie to
-                                            "Your devoted JOHN."
-
-"Oh, the little villain! that's the way he meant to pay me for keeping
-my word to mother. I'll give him a hearty scolding, and bring him over
-to beg pardon," cried Jo, burning to execute immediate justice. But her
-mother held her back, saying, with a look she seldom wore,--
-
-"Stop, Jo, you must clear yourself first. You have played so many
-pranks, that I am afraid you have had a hand in this."
-
-"On my word, mother, I haven't! I never saw that note before, and don't
-know anything about it, as true as I live!" said Jo, so earnestly that
-they believed her. "If I _had_ taken a part in it I'd have done it
-better than this, and have written a sensible note. I should think you'd
-have known Mr. Brooke wouldn't write such stuff as that," she added,
-scornfully tossing down the paper.
-
-"It's like his writing," faltered Meg, comparing it with the note in her
-hand.
-
-"O Meg, you didn't answer it?" cried Mrs. March quickly.
-
-"Yes, I did!" and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame.
-
-"Here's a scrape! _Do_ let me bring that wicked boy over to explain, and
-be lectured. I can't rest till I get hold of him;" and Jo made for the
-door again.
-
-"Hush! let me manage this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret,
-tell me the whole story," commanded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg, yet
-keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off.
-
-"I received the first letter from Laurie, who didn't look as if he knew
-anything about it," began Meg, without looking up. "I was worried at
-first, and meant to tell you; then I remembered how you liked Mr.
-Brooke, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I kept my little secret for a
-few days. I'm so silly that I liked to think no one knew; and, while I
-was deciding what to say, I felt like the girls in books, who have such
-things to do. Forgive me, mother, I'm paid for my silliness now; I never
-can look him in the face again."
-
-"What did you say to him?" asked Mrs. March.
-
-"I only said I was too young to do anything about it yet; that I didn't
-wish to have secrets from you, and he must speak to father. I was very
-grateful for his kindness, and would be his friend, but nothing more,
-for a long while."
-
-Mrs. March smiled, as if well pleased, and Jo clapped her hands,
-exclaiming, with a laugh,--
-
-"You are almost equal to Caroline Percy, who was a pattern of prudence!
-Tell on, Meg. What did he say to that?"
-
-"He writes in a different way entirely, telling me that he never sent
-any love-letter at all, and is very sorry that my roguish sister, Jo,
-should take such liberties with our names. It's very kind and
-respectful, but think how dreadful for me!"
-
-Meg leaned against her mother, looking the image of despair, and Jo
-tramped about the room, calling Laurie names. All of a sudden she
-stopped, caught up the two notes, and, after looking at them closely,
-said decidedly, "I don't believe Brooke ever saw either of these
-letters. Teddy wrote both, and keeps yours to crow over me with, because
-I wouldn't tell him my secret."
-
-"Don't have any secrets, Jo; tell it to mother, and keep out of trouble,
-as I should have done," said Meg warningly.
-
-"Bless you, child! Mother told me."
-
-"That will do, Jo. I'll comfort Meg while you go and get Laurie. I shall
-sift the matter to the bottom, and put a stop to such pranks at once."
-
-Away ran Jo, and Mrs. March gently told Meg Mr. Brooke's real feelings.
-"Now, dear, what are your own? Do you love him enough to wait till he
-can make a home for you, or will you keep yourself quite free for the
-present?"
-
-"I've been so scared and worried, I don't want to have anything to do
-with lovers for a long while,--perhaps never," answered Meg petulantly.
-"If John _doesn't_ know anything about this nonsense, don't tell him,
-and make Jo and Laurie hold their tongues. I won't be deceived and
-plagued and made a fool of,--it's a shame!"
-
-Seeing that Meg's usually gentle temper was roused and her pride hurt by
-this mischievous joke, Mrs. March soothed her by promises of entire
-silence, and great discretion for the future. The instant Laurie's step
-was heard in the hall, Meg fled into the study, and Mrs. March received
-the culprit alone. Jo had not told him why he was wanted, fearing he
-wouldn't come; but he knew the minute he saw Mrs. March's face, and
-stood twirling his hat, with a guilty air which convicted him at once.
-Jo was dismissed, but chose to march up and down the hall like a
-sentinel, having some fear that the prisoner might bolt. The sound of
-voices in the parlor rose and fell for half an hour; but what happened
-during that interview the girls never knew.
-
-When they were called in, Laurie was standing by their mother, with such
-a penitent face that Jo forgave him on the spot, but did not think it
-wise to betray the fact. Meg received his humble apology, and was much
-comforted by the assurance that Brooke knew nothing of the joke.
-
-"I'll never tell him to my dying day,--wild horses sha'n't drag it out
-of me; so you'll forgive me, Meg, and I'll do anything to show how
-out-and-out sorry I am," he added, looking very much ashamed of himself.
-
-"I'll try; but it was a very ungentlemanly thing to do. I didn't think
-you could be so sly and malicious, Laurie," replied Meg, trying to hide
-her maidenly confusion under a gravely reproachful air.
-
-"It was altogether abominable, and I don't deserve to be spoken to for a
-month; but you will, though, won't you?" and Laurie folded his hands
-together with such an imploring gesture, as he spoke in his irresistibly
-persuasive tone, that it was impossible to frown upon him, in spite of
-his scandalous behavior. Meg pardoned him, and Mrs. March's grave face
-relaxed, in spite of her efforts to keep sober, when she heard him
-declare that he would atone for his sins by all sorts of penances, and
-abase himself like a worm before the injured damsel.
-
-Jo stood aloof, meanwhile, trying to harden her heart against him, and
-succeeding only in primming up her face into an expression of entire
-disapprobation. Laurie looked at her once or twice, but, as she showed
-no sign of relenting, he felt injured, and turned his back on her till
-the others were done with him, when he made her a low bow, and walked
-off without a word.
-
-As soon as he had gone, she wished she had been more forgiving; and when
-Meg and her mother went upstairs, she felt lonely, and longed for Teddy.
-After resisting for some time, she yielded to the impulse, and, armed
-with a book to return, went over to the big house.
-
-"Is Mr. Laurence in?" asked Jo, of a housemaid, who was coming down
-stairs.
-
-"Yes, miss; but I don't believe he's seeable just yet."
-
-"Why not? is he ill?"
-
-"La, no, miss, but he's had a scene with Mr. Laurie, who is in one of
-his tantrums about something, which vexes the old gentleman, so I
-dursn't go nigh him."
-
-"Where is Laurie?"
-
-"Shut up in his room, and he won't answer, though I've been a-tapping. I
-don't know what's to become of the dinner, for it's ready, and there's
-no one to eat it."
-
-"I'll go and see what the matter is. I'm not afraid of either of them."
-
-Up went Jo, and knocked smartly on the door of Laurie's little study.
-
-"Stop that, or I'll open the door and make you!" called out the young
-gentleman, in a threatening tone.
-
-Jo immediately knocked again; the door flew open, and in she bounced,
-before Laurie could recover from his surprise. Seeing that he really
-_was_ out of temper, Jo, who knew how to manage him, assumed a contrite
-expression, and going artistically down upon her knees, said meekly,
-"Please forgive me for being so cross. I came to make it up, and can't
-go away till I have."
-
-"It's all right. Get up, and don't be a goose, Jo," was the cavalier
-reply to her petition.
-
-              [Illustration: Get up and don't be a goose]
-
-"Thank you; I will. Could I ask what's the matter? You don't look
-exactly easy in your mind."
-
-"I've been shaken, and I won't bear it!" growled Laurie indignantly.
-
-"Who did it?" demanded Jo.
-
-"Grandfather; if it had been any one else I'd have--" and the injured
-youth finished his sentence by an energetic gesture of the right arm.
-
-"That's nothing; I often shake you, and you don't mind," said Jo
-soothingly.
-
-"Pooh! you're a girl, and it's fun; but I'll allow no man to shake
-_me_."
-
-"I don't think any one would care to try it, if you looked as much like
-a thunder-cloud as you do now. Why were you treated so?"
-
-"Just because I wouldn't say what your mother wanted me for. I'd
-promised not to tell, and of course I wasn't going to break my word."
-
-"Couldn't you satisfy your grandpa in any other way?"
-
-"No; he _would_ have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
-truth. I'd have told my part of the scrape, if I could without bringing
-Meg in. As I couldn't, I held my tongue, and bore the scolding till the
-old gentleman collared me. Then I got angry, and bolted, for fear I
-should forget myself."
-
-"It wasn't nice, but he's sorry, I know; so go down and make up. I'll
-help you."
-
-"Hanged if I do! I'm not going to be lectured and pummelled by every
-one, just for a bit of a frolic. I _was_ sorry about Meg, and begged
-pardon like a man; but I won't do it again, when I wasn't in the wrong."
-
-"He didn't know that."
-
-"He ought to trust me, and not act as if I was a baby. It's no use, Jo;
-he's got to learn that I'm able to take care of myself, and don't need
-any one's apron-string to hold on by."
-
-"What pepper-pots you are!" sighed Jo. "How do you mean to settle this
-affair?"
-
-"Well, he ought to beg pardon, and believe me when I say I can't tell
-him what the fuss's about."
-
-"Bless you! he won't do that."
-
-"I won't go down till he does."
-
-"Now, Teddy, be sensible; let it pass, and I'll explain what I can. You
-can't stay here, so what's the use of being melodramatic?"
-
-"I don't intend to stay here long, any way. I'll slip off and take a
-journey somewhere, and when grandpa misses me he'll come round fast
-enough."
-
-"I dare say; but you ought not to go and worry him."
-
-"Don't preach. I'll go to Washington and see Brooke; it's gay there, and
-I'll enjoy myself after the troubles."
-
-"What fun you'd have! I wish I could run off too," said Jo, forgetting
-her part of Mentor in lively visions of martial life at the capital.
-
-"Come on, then! Why not? You go and surprise your father, and I'll stir
-up old Brooke. It would be a glorious joke; let's do it, Jo. We'll leave
-a letter saying we are all right, and trot off at once. I've got money
-enough; it will do you good, and be no harm, as you go to your father."
-
-For a moment Jo looked as if she would agree; for, wild as the plan was,
-it just suited her. She was tired of care and confinement, longed for
-change, and thoughts of her father blended temptingly with the novel
-charms of camps and hospitals, liberty and fun. Her eyes kindled as they
-turned wistfully toward the window, but they fell on the old house
-opposite, and she shook her head with sorrowful decision.
-
-"If I was a boy, we'd run away together, and have a capital time; but as
-I'm a miserable girl, I must be proper, and stop at home. Don't tempt
-me, Teddy, it's a crazy plan."
-
-"That's the fun of it," began Laurie, who had got a wilful fit on him,
-and was possessed to break out of bounds in some way.
-
-"Hold your tongue!" cried Jo, covering her ears. "'Prunes and prisms'
-are my doom, and I may as well make up my mind to it. I came here to
-moralize, not to hear about things that make me skip to think of."
-
-    [Illustration: "Hold your tongue!" cried Jo, covering her ears]
-
-"I know Meg would wet-blanket such a proposal, but I thought you had
-more spirit," began Laurie insinuatingly.
-
-"Bad boy, be quiet! Sit down and think of your own sins, don't go making
-me add to mine. If I get your grandpa to apologize for the shaking, will
-you give up running away?" asked Jo seriously.
-
-"Yes, but you won't do it," answered Laurie, who wished "to make up,"
-but felt that his outraged dignity must be appeased first.
-
-"If I can manage the young one I can the old one," muttered Jo, as she
-walked away, leaving Laurie bent over a railroad map, with his head
-propped up on both hands.
-
-"Come in!" and Mr. Laurence's gruff voice sounded gruffer than ever, as
-Jo tapped at his door.
-
-"It's only me, sir, come to return a book," she said blandly, as she
-entered.
-
-"Want any more?" asked the old gentleman, looking grim and vexed, but
-trying not to show it.
-
-"Yes, please. I like old Sam so well, I think I'll try the second
-volume," returned Jo, hoping to propitiate him by accepting a second
-dose of Boswell's "Johnson," as he had recommended that lively work.
-
-The shaggy eyebrows unbent a little, as he rolled the steps toward the
-shelf where the Johnsonian literature was placed. Jo skipped up, and,
-sitting on the top step, affected to be searching for her book, but was
-really wondering how best to introduce the dangerous object of her
-visit. Mr. Laurence seemed to suspect that something was brewing in her
-mind; for, after taking several brisk turns about the room, he faced
-round on her, speaking so abruptly that "Rasselas" tumbled face downward
-on the floor.
-
-"What has that boy been about? Don't try to shield him. I know he has
-been in mischief by the way he acted when he came home. I can't get a
-word from him; and when I threatened to shake the truth out of him he
-bolted upstairs, and locked himself into his room."
-
-"He did do wrong, but we forgave him, and all promised not to say a word
-to any one," began Jo reluctantly.
-
-"That won't do; he shall not shelter himself behind a promise from you
-soft-hearted girls. If he's done anything amiss, he shall confess, beg
-pardon, and be punished. Out with it, Jo, I won't be kept in the dark."
-
-Mr. Laurence looked so alarming and spoke so sharply that Jo would have
-gladly run away, if she could, but she was perched aloft on the steps,
-and he stood at the foot, a lion in the path, so she had to stay and
-brave it out.
-
-     [Illustration: He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path]
-
-"Indeed, sir, I cannot tell; mother forbade it. Laurie has confessed,
-asked pardon, and been punished quite enough. We don't keep silence to
-shield him, but some one else, and it will make more trouble if you
-interfere. Please don't; it was partly my fault, but it's all right now;
-so let's forget it, and talk about the 'Rambler,' or something
-pleasant."
-
-"Hang the 'Rambler!' come down and give me your word that this
-harum-scarum boy of mine hasn't done anything ungrateful or impertinent.
-If he has, after all your kindness to him, I'll thrash him with my own
-hands."
-
-The threat sounded awful, but did not alarm Jo, for she knew the
-irascible old gentleman would never lift a finger against his grandson,
-whatever he might say to the contrary. She obediently descended, and
-made as light of the prank as she could without betraying Meg or
-forgetting the truth.
-
-"Hum--ha--well, if the boy held his tongue because he promised, and not
-from obstinacy, I'll forgive him. He's a stubborn fellow, and hard to
-manage," said Mr. Laurence, rubbing up his hair till it looked as if he
-had been out in a gale, and smoothing the frown from his brow with an
-air of relief.
-
-"So am I; but a kind word will govern me when all the king's horses and
-all the king's men couldn't," said Jo, trying to say a kind word for her
-friend, who seemed to get out of one scrape only to fall into another.
-
-"You think I'm not kind to him, hey?" was the sharp answer.
-
-"Oh, dear, no, sir; you are rather too kind sometimes, and then just a
-trifle hasty when he tries your patience. Don't you think you are?"
-
-Jo was determined to have it out now, and tried to look quite placid,
-though she quaked a little after her bold speech. To her great relief
-and surprise, the old gentleman only threw his spectacles on to the
-table with a rattle, and exclaimed frankly,--
-
-"You're right, girl, I am! I love the boy, but he tries my patience past
-bearing, and I don't know how it will end, if we go on so."
-
-"I'll tell you, he'll run away." Jo was sorry for that speech the
-minute it was made; she meant to warn him that Laurie would not bear
-much restraint, and hoped he would be more forbearing with the lad.
-
-Mr. Laurence's ruddy face changed suddenly, and he sat down, with a
-troubled glance at the picture of a handsome man, which hung over his
-table. It was Laurie's father, who _had_ run away in his youth, and
-married against the imperious old man's will. Jo fancied he remembered
-and regretted the past, and she wished she had held her tongue.
-
-"He won't do it unless he is very much worried, and only threatens it
-sometimes, when he gets tired of studying. I often think I should like
-to, especially since my hair was cut; so, if you ever miss us, you may
-advertise for two boys, and look among the ships bound for India."
-
-She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently
-taking the whole as a joke.
-
-"You hussy, how dare you talk in that way? Where's your respect for me,
-and your proper bringing up? Bless the boys and girls! What torments
-they are; yet we can't do without them," he said, pinching her cheeks
-good-humoredly. "Go and bring that boy down to his dinner, tell him it's
-all right, and advise him not to put on tragedy airs with his
-grandfather. I won't bear it."
-
-"He won't come, sir; he feels badly because you didn't believe him when
-he said he couldn't tell. I think the shaking hurt his feelings very
-much."
-
-Jo tried to look pathetic, but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began
-to laugh, and she knew the day was won.
-
-"I'm sorry for that, and ought to thank him for not shaking _me_, I
-suppose. What the dickens does the fellow expect?" and the old gentleman
-looked a trifle ashamed of his own testiness.
-
-"If I were you, I'd write him an apology, sir. He says he won't come
-down till he has one, and talks about Washington, and goes on in an
-absurd way. A formal apology will make him see how foolish he is, and
-bring him down quite amiable. Try it; he likes fun, and this way is
-better than talking. I'll carry it up, and teach him his duty."
-
-Mr. Laurence gave her a sharp look, and put on his spectacles, saying
-slowly, "You're a sly puss, but I don't mind being managed by you and
-Beth. Here, give me a bit of paper, and let us have done with this
-nonsense."
-
-The note was written in the terms which one gentleman would use to
-another after offering some deep insult. Jo dropped a kiss on the top of
-Mr. Laurence's bald head, and ran up to slip the apology under Laurie's
-door, advising him, through the key-hole, to be submissive, decorous,
-and a few other agreeable impossibilities. Finding the door locked
-again, she left the note to do its work, and was going quietly away,
-when the young gentleman slid down the banisters, and waited for her at
-the bottom, saying, with his most virtuous expression of countenance,
-"What a good fellow you are, Jo! Did you get blown up?" he added,
-laughing.
-
-"No; he was pretty mild, on the whole."
-
-"Ah! I got it all round; even you cast me off over there, and I felt
-just ready to go to the deuce," he began apologetically.
-
-"Don't talk in that way; turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, my
-son."
-
-"I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil
-my copy-books; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an
-end," he said dolefully.
-
-"Go and eat your dinner; you'll feel better after it. Men always croak
-when they are hungry," and Jo whisked out at the front door after that.
-
-"That's a 'label' on my 'sect,'" answered Laurie, quoting Amy, as he
-went to partake of humble-pie dutifully with his grandfather, who was
-quite saintly in temper and overwhelmingly respectful in manner all the
-rest of the day.
-
-Every one thought the matter ended and the little cloud blown over; but
-the mischief was done, for, though others forgot it, Meg remembered. She
-never alluded to a certain person, but she thought of him a good deal,
-dreamed dreams more than ever; and once Jo, rummaging her sister's desk
-for stamps, found a bit of paper scribbled over with the words, "Mrs.
-John Brooke;" whereat she groaned tragically, and cast it into the fire,
-feeling that Laurie's prank had hastened the evil day for her.
-
-
-
-
-  [Illustration: Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day]
-
-                                 XXII.
-
-                           PLEASANT MEADOWS.
-
-
-Like sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The
-invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. March began to talk of returning
-early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all
-day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats, at first, and, in time,
-with doll's sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her once active
-limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her a daily airing about the
-house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burnt her white
-hands cooking delicate messes for "the dear;" while Amy, a loyal slave
-of the ring, celebrated her return by giving away as many of her
-treasures as she could prevail on her sisters to accept.
-
-As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the house,
-and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly impossible
-or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honor of this unusually merry
-Christmas. Laurie was equally impracticable, and would have had
-bonfires, sky-rockets, and triumphal arches, if he had had his own way.
-After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered
-effectually quenched, and went about with forlorn faces, which were
-rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together.
-
-Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid
-Christmas Day. Hannah "felt in her bones" that it was going to be an
-unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess, for
-everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success. To
-begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them; then Beth
-felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being dressed in her mother's
-gift,--a soft crimson merino wrapper,--was borne in triumph to the
-window to behold the offering of Jo and Laurie. The Unquenchables had
-done their best to be worthy of the name, for, like elves, they had
-worked by night, and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden
-stood a stately snow-maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of
-fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of new music in the other, a
-perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas
-carol issuing from her lips, on a pink paper streamer:--
-
-                         "THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH.
-
-        "God bless you, dear Queen Bess!
-          May nothing you dismay,
-         But health and peace and happiness
-          Be yours, this Christmas Day.
-
-        "Here's fruit to feed our busy bee,
-          And flowers for her nose;
-         Here's music for her pianee,
-          An Afghan for her toes.
-
-        "A portrait of Joanna, see,
-          By Raphael No. 2,
-         Who labored with great industry
-          To make it fair and true.
-
-        "Accept a ribbon red, I beg,
-          For Madam Purrer's tail;
-         And ice-cream made by lovely Peg,--
-          A Mont Blanc in a pail.
-
-        "Their dearest love my makers laid
-          Within my breast of snow:
-         Accept it, and the Alpine maid,
-          From Laurie and from Jo."
-
-                      [Illustration: The Jungfrau]
-
-How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down to bring in
-the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she presented them!
-
-"I'm so full of happiness, that, if father was only here, I couldn't
-hold one drop more," said Beth, quite sighing with contentment as Jo
-carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement, and to
-refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the "Jungfrau" had
-sent her.
-
-"So am I," added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the
-long-desired Undine and Sintram.
-
-"I'm sure I am," echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of the
-Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her, in a pretty frame.
-
-"Of course I am!" cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her first
-silk dress; for Mr. Laurence had insisted on giving it.
-
-"How can _I_ be otherwise?" said Mrs. March gratefully, as her eyes went
-from her husband's letter to Beth's smiling face, and her hand caressed
-the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which
-the girls had just fastened on her breast.
-
-Now and then, in this work-a-day world, things do happen in the
-delightful story-book fashion, and what a comfort that is. Half an hour
-after every one had said they were so happy they could only hold one
-drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlor door, and popped his
-head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and
-uttered an Indian war-whoop; for his face was so full of suppressed
-excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful, that every one jumped
-up, though he only said, in a queer, breathless voice, "Here's another
-Christmas present for the March family."
-
-Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away
-somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the eyes,
-leaning on the arm of another tall man, who tried to say something and
-couldn't. Of course there was a general stampede; and for several
-minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things
-were done, and no one said a word. Mr. March became invisible in the
-embrace of four pairs of loving arms; Jo disgraced herself by nearly
-fainting away, and had to be doctored by Laurie in the china-closet; Mr.
-Brooke kissed Meg entirely by mistake, as he somewhat incoherently
-explained; and Amy, the dignified, tumbled over a stool, and, never
-stopping to get up, hugged and cried over her father's boots in the most
-touching manner. Mrs. March was the first to recover herself, and held
-up her hand with a warning, "Hush! remember Beth!"
-
-But it was too late; the study door flew open, the little red wrapper
-appeared on the threshold,--joy put strength into the feeble limbs,--and
-Beth ran straight into her father's arms. Never mind what happened just
-after that; for the full hearts overflowed, washing away the bitterness
-of the past, and leaving only the sweetness of the present.
-
-It was not at all romantic, but a hearty laugh set everybody straight
-again, for Hannah was discovered behind the door, sobbing over the fat
-turkey, which she had forgotten to put down when she rushed up from the
-kitchen. As the laugh subsided, Mrs. March began to thank Mr. Brooke for
-his faithful care of her husband, at which Mr. Brooke suddenly
-remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and, seizing Laurie, he
-precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to repose,
-which they did, by both sitting in one big chair, and talking hard.
-
-Mr. March told how he had longed to surprise them, and how, when the
-fine weather came, he had been allowed by his doctor to take advantage
-of it; how devoted Brooke had been, and how he was altogether a most
-estimable and upright young man. Why Mr. March paused a minute just
-there, and, after a glance at Meg, who was violently poking the fire,
-looked at his wife with an inquiring lift of the eyebrows, I leave you
-to imagine; also why Mrs. March gently nodded her head, and asked,
-rather abruptly, if he wouldn't have something to eat. Jo saw and
-understood the look; and she stalked grimly away to get wine and
-beef-tea, muttering to herself, as she slammed the door, "I hate
-estimable young men with brown eyes!"
-
-There never _was_ such a Christmas dinner as they had that day. The fat
-turkey was a sight to behold, when Hannah sent him up, stuffed, browned,
-and decorated; so was the plum-pudding, which quite melted in one's
-mouth; likewise the jellies, in which Amy revelled like a fly in a
-honey-pot. Everything turned out well, which was a mercy, Hannah said,
-"For my mind was that flustered, mum, that it's a merrycle I didn't
-roast the pudding, and stuff the turkey with raisins, let alone bilin'
-of it in a cloth."
-
-Mr. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr. Brooke,--at whom
-Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie's infinite amusement. Two easy-chairs
-stood side by side at the head of the table, in which sat Beth and her
-father, feasting modestly on chicken and a little fruit. They drank
-healths, told stories, sung songs, "reminisced," as the old folks say,
-and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh-ride had been planned, but the
-girls would not leave their father; so the guests departed early, and,
-as twilight gathered, the happy family sat together round the fire.
-
-"Just a year ago we were groaning over the dismal Christmas we expected
-to have. Do you remember?" asked Jo, breaking a short pause which had
-followed a long conversation about many things.
-
-"Rather a pleasant year on the whole!" said Meg, smiling at the fire,
-and congratulating herself on having treated Mr. Brooke with dignity.
-
-"I think it's been a pretty hard one," observed Amy, watching the light
-shine on her ring, with thoughtful eyes.
-
-"I'm glad it's over, because we've got you back," whispered Beth, who
-sat on her father's knee.
-
-"Rather a rough road for you to travel, my little pilgrims, especially
-the latter part of it. But you have got on bravely; and I think the
-burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon," said Mr. March,
-looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered
-round him.
-
-"How do you know? Did mother tell you?" asked Jo.
-
-"Not much; straws show which way the wind blows, and I've made several
-discoveries to-day."
-
-"Oh, tell us what they are!" cried Meg, who sat beside him.
-
-"Here is one;" and taking up the hand which lay on the arm of his chair,
-he pointed to the roughened forefinger, a burn on the back, and two or
-three little hard spots on the palm. "I remember a time when this hand
-was white and smooth, and your first care was to keep it so. It was very
-pretty then, but to me it is much prettier now,--for in these seeming
-blemishes I read a little history. A burnt-offering has been made of
-vanity; this hardened palm has earned something better than blisters;
-and I'm sure the sewing done by these pricked fingers will last a long
-time, so much good-will went into the stitches. Meg, my dear, I value
-the womanly skill which keeps home happy more than white hands or
-fashionable accomplishments. I'm proud to shake this good, industrious
-little hand, and hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away."
-
-If Meg had wanted a reward for hours of patient labor, she received it
-in the hearty pressure of her father's hand and the approving smile he
-gave her.
-
-"What about Jo? Please say something nice; for she has tried so hard,
-and been so very, very good to me," said Beth, in her father's ear.
-
-He laughed, and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite, with an
-unusually mild expression in her brown face.
-
-"In spite of the curly crop, I don't see the 'son Jo' whom I left a year
-ago," said Mr. March. "I see a young lady who pins her collar straight,
-laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang, nor lies on
-the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and pale, just now,
-with watching and anxiety; but I like to look at it, for it has grown
-gentler, and her voice is lower; she doesn't bounce, but moves quietly,
-and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly way which
-delights me. I rather miss my wild girl; but if I get a strong, helpful,
-tender-hearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite satisfied. I don't
-know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep, but I do know that in
-all Washington I couldn't find anything beautiful enough to be bought
-with the five-and-twenty dollars which my good girl sent me."
-
-Jo's keen eyes were rather dim for a minute, and her thin face grew rosy
-in the firelight, as she received her father's praise, feeling that she
-did deserve a portion of it.
-
-"Now Beth," said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait.
-
-"There's so little of her, I'm afraid to say much, for fear she will
-slip away altogether, though she is not so shy as she used to be," began
-their father cheerfully; but recollecting how nearly he _had_ lost her,
-he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his own,
-"I've got you safe, my Beth, and I'll keep you so, please God."
-
-After a minute's silence, he looked down at Amy, who sat on the cricket
-at his feet, and said, with a caress of the shining hair,--
-
-"I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for her
-mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place to-night, and has waited
-on every one with patience and good-humor. I also observe that she does
-not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even mentioned a very
-pretty ring which she wears; so I conclude that she has learned to think
-of other people more and of herself less, and has decided to try and
-mould her character as carefully as she moulds her little clay figures.
-I am glad of this; for though I should be very proud of a graceful
-statue made by her, I shall be infinitely prouder of a lovable daughter,
-with a talent for making life beautiful to herself and others."
-
-"What are you thinking of, Beth?" asked Jo, when Amy had thanked her
-father and told about her ring.
-
-"I read in 'Pilgrim's Progress' to-day, how, after many troubles,
-Christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow, where lilies
-bloomed all the year round, and there they rested happily, as we do now,
-before they went on to their journey's end," answered Beth; adding, as
-she slipped out of her father's arms, and went slowly to the instrument,
-"It's singing time now, and I want to be in my old place. I'll try to
-sing the song of the shepherd-boy which the Pilgrims heard. I made the
-music for father, because he likes the verses."
-
-So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and,
-in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sung to her own
-accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for
-her:--
-
-        "He that is down need fear no fall,
-          He that is low no pride;
-         He that is humble ever shall
-          Have God to be his guide.
-
-        "I am content with what I have,
-          Little be it or much;
-         And, Lord! contentment still I crave,
-          Because Thou savest such.
-
-        "Fulness to them a burden is,
-          That go on pilgrimage;
-         Here little, and hereafter bliss,
-          Is best from age to age!"
-
-
-
-
-                                 XXIII.
-
-                    AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION.
-
-
-            [Illustration: Popping in her head now and then]
-
-Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughters hovered about
-Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything to look at, wait upon, and
-listen to the new invalid, who was in a fair way to be killed by
-kindness. As he sat propped up in a big chair by Beth's sofa, with the
-other three close by, and Hannah popping in her head now and then, "to
-peek at the dear man," nothing seemed needed to complete their
-happiness. But something _was_ needed, and the elder ones felt it,
-though none confessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one another
-with an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg. Jo had sudden
-fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist at Mr. Brooke's
-umbrella, which had been left in the hall; Meg was absent-minded, shy,
-and silent, started when the bell rang, and colored when John's name was
-mentioned; Amy said "Every one seemed waiting for something, and
-couldn't settle down, which was queer, since father was safe at home,"
-and Beth innocently wondered why their neighbors didn't run over as
-usual.
-
- [Illustration: "He sat in the big chair by Beth's sofa with the other
-                      three close by."--Page 277.]
-
-Laurie went by in the afternoon, and, seeing Meg at the window, seemed
-suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down upon one
-knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands
-imploringly, as if begging some boon; and when Meg told him to behave
-himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief,
-and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair.
-
-"What does the goose mean?" said Meg, laughing, and trying to look
-unconscious.
-
-"He's showing you how your John will go on by and by. Touching, isn't
-it?" answered Jo scornfully.
-
-"Don't say _my John_, it isn't proper or true;" but Meg's voice lingered
-over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. "Please don't plague
-me, Jo; I've told you I don't care _much_ about him, and there isn't to
-be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before."
-
-"We can't, for something _has_ been said, and Laurie's mischief has
-spoilt you for me. I see it, and so does mother; you are not like your
-old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from me. I don't mean to
-plague you, and will bear it like a man, but I do wish it was all
-settled. I hate to wait; so if you mean ever to do it, make haste and
-have it over quickly," said Jo pettishly.
-
-"_I_ can't say or do anything till he speaks, and he won't, because
-father said I was too young," began Meg, bending over her work, with a
-queer little smile, which suggested that she did not quite agree with
-her father on that point.
-
-"If he did speak, you wouldn't know what to say, but would cry or blush,
-or let him have his own way, instead of giving a good, decided, No."
-
-"I'm not so silly and weak as you think. I know just what I should say,
-for I've planned it all, so I needn't be taken unawares; there's no
-knowing what may happen, and I wished to be prepared."
-
-Jo couldn't help smiling at the important air which Meg had
-unconsciously assumed, and which was as becoming as the pretty color
-varying in her cheeks.
-
-"Would you mind telling me what you'd say?" asked Jo more respectfully.
-
-"Not at all; you are sixteen now, quite old enough to be my confidant,
-and my experience will be useful to you by and by, perhaps, in your own
-affairs of this sort."
-
-"Don't mean to have any; it's fun to watch other people philander, but I
-should feel like a fool doing it myself," said Jo, looking alarmed at
-the thought.
-
-"I think not, if you liked any one very much, and he liked you." Meg
-spoke as if to herself, and glanced out at the lane, where she had often
-seen lovers walking together in the summer twilight.
-
-"I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man," said Jo,
-rudely shortening her sister's little reverie.
-
-"Oh, I should merely say, quite calmly and decidedly, 'Thank you, Mr.
-Brooke, you are very kind, but I agree with father that I am too young
-to enter into any engagement at present; so please say no more, but let
-us be friends as we were.'"
-
-"Hum! that's stiff and cool enough. I don't believe you'll ever say it,
-and I know he won't be satisfied if you do. If he goes on like the
-rejected lovers in books, you'll give in, rather than hurt his
-feelings."
-
-"No, I won't. I shall tell him I've made up my mind, and shall walk out
-of the room with dignity."
-
-Meg rose as she spoke, and was just going to rehearse the dignified
-exit, when a step in the hall made her fly into her seat, and begin to
-sew as if her life depended on finishing that particular seam in a given
-time. Jo smothered a laugh at the sudden change, and, when some one gave
-a modest tap, opened the door with a grim aspect, which was anything but
-hospitable.
-
-"Good afternoon. I came to get my umbrella,--that is, to see how your
-father finds himself to-day," said Mr. Brooke, getting a trifle confused
-as his eye went from one tell-tale face to the other.
-
-"It's very well, he's in the rack, I'll get him, and tell it you are
-here," and having jumbled her father and the umbrella well together in
-her reply, Jo slipped out of the room to give Meg a chance to make her
-speech and air her dignity. But the instant she vanished, Meg began to
-sidle towards the door, murmuring,--
-
-"Mother will like to see you. Pray sit down, I'll call her."
-
-"Don't go; are you afraid of me, Margaret?" and Mr. Brooke looked so
-hurt that Meg thought she must have done something very rude. She
-blushed up to the little curls on her forehead, for he had never called
-her Margaret before, and she was surprised to find how natural and sweet
-it seemed to hear him say it. Anxious to appear friendly and at her
-ease, she put out her hand with a confiding gesture, and said
-gratefully,--
-
-"How can I be afraid when you have been so kind to father? I only wish I
-could thank you for it."
-
-                 [Illustration: Shall I tell you how?]
-
-"Shall I tell you how?" asked Mr. Brooke, holding the small hand fast in
-both his own, and looking down at Meg with so much love in the brown
-eyes, that her heart began to flutter, and she both longed to run away
-and to stop and listen.
-
-"Oh no, please don't--I'd rather not," she said, trying to withdraw her
-hand, and looking frightened in spite of her denial.
-
-"I won't trouble you, I only want to know if you care for me a little,
-Meg. I love you so much, dear," added Mr. Brooke tenderly.
-
-This was the moment for the calm, proper speech, but Meg didn't make it;
-she forgot every word of it, hung her head, and answered, "I don't
-know," so softly, that John had to stoop down to catch the foolish
-little reply.
-
-He seemed to think it was worth the trouble, for he smiled to himself as
-if quite satisfied, pressed the plump hand gratefully, and said, in his
-most persuasive tone, "Will you try and find out? I want to know _so_
-much; for I can't go to work with any heart until I learn whether I am
-to have my reward in the end or not."
-
-"I'm too young," faltered Meg, wondering why she was so fluttered, yet
-rather enjoying it.
-
-"I'll wait; and in the meantime, you could be learning to like me. Would
-it be a very hard lesson, dear?"
-
-"Not if I chose to learn it, but--"
-
-"Please choose to learn, Meg. I love to teach, and this is easier than
-German," broke in John, getting possession of the other hand, so that
-she had no way of hiding her face, as he bent to look into it.
-
-His tone was properly beseeching; but, stealing a shy look at him, Meg
-saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, and that he wore the
-satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of his success. This nettled
-her; Annie Moffat's foolish lessons in coquetry came into her mind, and
-the love of power, which sleeps in the bosoms of the best of little
-women, woke up all of a sudden and took possession of her. She felt
-excited and strange, and, not knowing what else to do, followed a
-capricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly, "I
-_don't_ choose. Please go away and let me be!"
-
-Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the air was tumbling
-about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in such a mood before, and it
-rather bewildered him.
-
-"Do you really mean that?" he asked anxiously, following her as she
-walked away.
-
-"Yes, I do; I don't want to be worried about such things. Father says I
-needn't; it's too soon and I'd rather not."
-
-"Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by and by? I'll wait, and say
-nothing till you have had more time. Don't play with me, Meg. I didn't
-think that of you."
-
-"Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't," said Meg, taking a
-naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patience and her own power.
-
-He was grave and pale now, and looked decidedly more like the novel
-heroes whom she admired; but he neither slapped his forehead nor tramped
-about the room, as they did; he just stood looking at her so wistfully,
-so tenderly, that she found her heart relenting in spite of her. What
-would have happened next I cannot say, if Aunt March had not come
-hobbling in at this interesting minute.
-
-The old lady couldn't resist her longing to see her nephew; for she had
-met Laurie as she took her airing, and, hearing of Mr. March's arrival,
-drove straight out to see him. The family were all busy in the back part
-of the house, and she had made her way quietly in, hoping to surprise
-them. She did surprise two of them so much that Meg started as if she
-had seen a ghost, and Mr. Brooke vanished into the study.
-
-"Bless me, what's all this?" cried the old lady, with a rap of her cane,
-as she glanced from the pale young gentleman to the scarlet young lady.
-
-               [Illustration: Bless me, what's all this?]
-
-"It's father's friend. I'm _so_ surprised to see you!" stammered Meg,
-feeling that she was in for a lecture now.
-
-"That's evident," returned Aunt March, sitting down. "But what is
-father's friend saying to make you look like a peony? There's mischief
-going on, and I insist upon knowing what it is," with another rap.
-
-"We were merely talking. Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella," began Meg,
-wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safely out of the house.
-
-"Brooke? That boy's tutor? Ah! I understand now. I know all about it. Jo
-blundered into a wrong message in one of your father's letters, and I
-made her tell me. You haven't gone and accepted him, child?" cried Aunt
-March, looking scandalized.
-
-"Hush! he'll hear. Sha'n't I call mother?" said Meg, much troubled.
-
-"Not yet. I've something to say to you, and I must free my mind at once.
-Tell me, do you mean to marry this Cook? If you do, not one penny of my
-money ever goes to you. Remember that, and be a sensible girl," said the
-old lady impressively.
-
-Now Aunt March possessed in perfection the art of rousing the spirit of
-opposition in the gentlest people, and enjoyed doing it. The best of us
-have a spice of perversity in us, especially when we are young and in
-love. If Aunt March had begged Meg to accept John Brooke, she would
-probably have declared she couldn't think of it; but as she was
-peremptorily ordered _not_ to like him, she immediately made up her mind
-that she would. Inclination as well as perversity made the decision
-easy, and, being already much excited, Meg opposed the old lady with
-unusual spirit.
-
-"I shall marry whom I please, Aunt March, and you can leave your money
-to any one you like," she said, nodding her head with a resolute air.
-
-"Highty tighty! Is that the way you take my advice, miss? You'll be
-sorry for it, by and by, when you've tried love in a cottage, and found
-it a failure."
-
-"It can't be a worse one than some people find in big houses," retorted
-Meg.
-
-Aunt March put on her glasses and took a look at the girl, for she did
-not know her in this new mood. Meg hardly knew herself, she felt so
-brave and independent,--so glad to defend John, and assert her right to
-love him, if she liked. Aunt March saw that she had begun wrong, and,
-after a little pause, made a fresh start, saying, as mildly as she
-could, "Now, Meg, my dear, be reasonable, and take my advice. I mean it
-kindly, and don't want you to spoil your whole life by making a mistake
-at the beginning. You ought to marry well, and help your family; it's
-your duty to make a rich match, and it ought to be impressed upon you."
-
-"Father and mother don't think so; they like John, though he _is_ poor."
-
-"Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than two babies."
-
-"I'm glad of it," cried Meg stoutly.
-
-Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture. "This Rook is
-poor, and hasn't got any rich relations, has he?"
-
-"No; but he has many warm friends."
-
-"You can't live on friends; try it, and see how cool they'll grow. He
-hasn't any business, has he?"
-
-"Not yet; Mr. Laurence is going to help him."
-
-"That won't last long. James Laurence is a crotchety old fellow, and not
-to be depended on. So you intend to marry a man without money, position,
-or business, and go on working harder than you do now, when you might be
-comfortable all your days by minding me and doing better? I thought you
-had more sense, Meg."
-
-"I couldn't do better if I waited half my life! John is good and wise;
-he's got heaps of talent; he's willing to work, and sure to get on, he's
-so energetic and brave. Every one likes and respects him, and I'm proud
-to think he cares for me, though I'm so poor and young and silly," said
-Meg, looking prettier than ever in her earnestness.
-
-"He knows _you_ have got rich relations, child; that's the secret of his
-liking, I suspect."
-
-"Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is above such meanness,
-and I won't listen to you a minute if you talk so," cried Meg
-indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of the old lady's
-suspicions. "My John wouldn't marry for money, anymore than I would. We
-are willing to work, and we mean to wait. I'm not afraid of being poor,
-for I've been happy so far, and I know I shall be with him, because he
-loves me, and I--"
-
-Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn't made up
-her mind; that she had told "her John" to go away, and that he might be
-overhearing her inconsistent remarks.
-
-Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having her
-pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl's happy young
-face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour.
-
-"Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a wilful child, and
-you've lost more than you know by this piece of folly. No, I won't stop;
-I'm disappointed in you, and haven't spirits to see your father now.
-Don't expect anything from me when you are married; your Mr. Book's
-friends must take care of you. I'm done with you forever."
-
-And, slamming the door in Meg's face, Aunt March drove off in high
-dudgeon. She seemed to take all the girl's courage with her; for, when
-left alone, Meg stood a moment, undecided whether to laugh or cry.
-Before she could make up her mind, she was taken possession of by Mr.
-Brooke, who said, all in one breath, "I couldn't help hearing, Meg.
-Thank you for defending me, and Aunt March for proving that you _do_
-care for me a little bit."
-
-"I didn't know how much, till she abused you," began Meg.
-
-"And I needn't go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, dear?"
-
-Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately
-exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself
-forever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering, "Yes, John," and hiding her
-face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat.
-
-Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softly down
-stairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and, hearing no sound
-within, nodded and smiled, with a satisfied expression, saying to
-herself, "She has sent him away as we planned, and that affair is
-settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it."
-
-But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the
-threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth
-nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going in to exult over a fallen enemy,
-and to praise a strong-minded sister for the banishment of an
-objectionable lover, it certainly _was_ a shock to behold the aforesaid
-enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with the strong-minded sister
-enthroned upon his knee, and wearing an expression of the most abject
-submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp, as if a cold shower-bath had
-suddenly fallen upon her,--for such an unexpected turning of the tables
-actually took her breath away. At the odd sound, the lovers turned and
-saw her. Meg jumped up, looking both proud and shy; but "that man," as
-Jo called him, actually laughed, and said coolly, as he kissed the
-astonished new-comer, "Sister Jo, congratulate us!"
-
-That was adding insult to injury,--it was altogether too much,--and,
-making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a
-word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming
-tragically, as she burst into the room, "Oh, _do_ somebody go down
-quick; John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!"
-
-Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed; and, casting herself upon
-the bed, Jo cried and scolded tempestuously as she told the awful news
-to Beth and Amy. The little girls, however, considered it a most
-agreeable and interesting event, and Jo got little comfort from them; so
-she went up to her refuge in the garret, and confided her troubles to
-the rats.
-
-Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that afternoon; but a great
-deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished his friends by
-the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit, told his plans,
-and persuaded them to arrange everything just as he wanted it.
-
-The tea-bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which
-he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both
-looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal. Amy
-was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity. Beth
-beamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed the
-young couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident
-Aunt March was right in calling them as "unworldly as a pair of babies."
-No one ate much, but every one looked very happy, and the old room
-seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family
-began there.
-
-"You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?" said
-Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in the sketch she
-was planning to take.
-
-"No, I'm sure I can't. How much has happened since I said that! It seems
-a year ago," answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream, lifted far above
-such common things as bread and butter.
-
-"The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the
-changes have begun," said Mrs. March. "In most families there comes, now
-and then, a year full of events; this has been such an one, but it ends
-well, after all."
-
-"Hope the next will end better," muttered Jo, who found it very hard to
-see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face; for Jo loved a few
-persons very dearly, and dreaded to have their affection lost or
-lessened in any way.
-
-"I hope the third year from this _will_ end better; I mean it shall, if
-I live to work out my plans," said Mr. Brooke, smiling at Meg, as if
-everything had become possible to him now.
-
-"Doesn't it seem very long to wait?" asked Amy, who was in a hurry for
-the wedding.
-
-"I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short
-time to me," answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her face, never seen
-there before.
-
-"You have only to wait; _I_ am to do the work," said John, beginning his
-labors by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to
-shake her head, and then say to herself, with an air of relief, as the
-front door banged, "Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have a little
-sensible conversation."
-
-But Jo was mistaken; for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with
-spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for "Mrs. John Brooke,"
-and evidently laboring under the delusion that the whole affair had been
-brought about by his excellent management.
-
-                  [Illustration: For Mrs. John Brooke]
-
-"I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does; for when
-he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's done, though the sky
-falls," said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his
-congratulations.
-
-"Much obliged for that recommendation. I take it as a good omen for the
-future, and invite you to my wedding on the spot," answered Mr. Brooke,
-who felt at peace with all mankind, even his mischievous pupil.
-
-"I'll come if I'm at the ends of the earth; for the sight of Jo's face
-alone, on that occasion, would be worth a long journey. You don't look
-festive, ma'am; what's the matter?" asked Laurie, following her into a
-corner of the parlor, whither all had adjourned to greet Mr. Laurence.
-
-"I don't approve of the match, but I've made up my mind to bear it, and
-shall not say a word against it," said Jo solemnly. "You can't know how
-hard it is for me to give up Meg," she continued, with a little quiver
-in her voice.
-
-"You don't give her up. You only go halves," said Laurie consolingly.
-
-"It never can be the same again. I've lost my dearest friend," sighed
-Jo.
-
-"You've got me, anyhow. I'm not good for much, I know; but I'll stand
-by you, Jo, all the days of my life; upon my word I will!" and Laurie
-meant what he said.
-
-"I know you will, and I'm ever so much obliged; you are always a great
-comfort to me, Teddy," returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands.
-
-"Well, now, don't be dismal, there's a good fellow. It's all right, you
-see. Meg is happy; Brooke will fly round and get settled immediately;
-grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jolly to see Meg in her
-own little house. We'll have capital times after she is gone, for I
-shall be through college before long, and then we'll go abroad, or some
-nice trip or other. Wouldn't that console you?"
-
-"I rather think it would; but there's no knowing what may happen in
-three years," said Jo thoughtfully.
-
-"That's true. Don't you wish you could take a look forward, and see
-where we shall all be then? I do," returned Laurie.
-
-"I think not, for I might see something sad; and every one looks so
-happy now, I don't believe they could be much improved," and Jo's eyes
-went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for the prospect
-was a pleasant one.
-
-Father and mother sat together, quietly re-living the first chapter of
-the romance which for them began some twenty years ago. Amy was drawing
-the lovers, who sat apart in a beautiful world of their own, the light
-of which touched their faces with a grace the little artist could not
-copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerily with her old friend, who
-held her little hand as if he felt that it possessed the power to lead
-him along the peaceful way she walked. Jo lounged in her favorite low
-seat, with the grave, quiet look which best became her; and Laurie,
-leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her curly
-head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the long
-glass which reflected them both.
-
-                   *       *       *       *       *
-
-So grouped, the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it
-ever rises again, depends upon the reception given to the first act of
-the domestic drama called "LITTLE WOMEN."
-
-
-
-
-                [Illustration: Home of the Little Women]
-
-
-
-
-                            The Second Part
-
-
-
-
-                     [Illustration: The Dove Cote]
-
-                                 XXIV.
-
-                                GOSSIP.
-
-
-In order that we may start afresh, and go to Meg's wedding with free
-minds, it will be well to begin with a little gossip about the Marches.
-And here let me premise, that if any of the elders think there is too
-much "lovering" in the story, as I fear they may (I'm not afraid the
-young folks will make that objection), I can only say with Mrs. March,
-"What _can_ you expect when I have four gay girls in the house, and a
-dashing young neighbor over the way?"
-
-The three years that have passed have brought but few changes to the
-quiet family. The war is over, and Mr. March safely at home, busy with
-his books and the small parish which found in him a minister by nature
-as by grace,--a quiet, studious man, rich in the wisdom that is better
-than learning, the charity which calls all mankind "brother," the piety
-that blossoms into character, making it august and lovely.
-
-These attributes, in spite of poverty and the strict integrity which
-shut him out from the more worldly successes, attracted to him many
-admirable persons, as naturally as sweet herbs draw bees, and as
-naturally he gave them the honey into which fifty years of hard
-experience had distilled no bitter drop. Earnest young men found the
-gray-headed scholar as young at heart as they; thoughtful or troubled
-women instinctively brought their doubts and sorrows to him, sure of
-finding the gentlest sympathy, the wisest counsel; sinners told their
-sins to the pure-hearted old man, and were both rebuked and saved;
-gifted men found a companion in him; ambitious men caught glimpses of
-nobler ambitions than their own; and even worldlings confessed that his
-beliefs were beautiful and true, although "they wouldn't pay."
-
-To outsiders, the five energetic women seemed to rule the house, and so
-they did in many things; but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books,
-was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and
-comforter; for to him the busy, anxious women always turned in troublous
-times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband
-and father.
-
-The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keeping, their souls
-into their father's; and to both parents, who lived and labored so
-faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growth, and
-bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesses life and
-outlives death.
-
-Mrs. March is as brisk and cheery, though rather grayer, than when we
-saw her last, and just now so absorbed in Meg's affairs that the
-hospitals and homes, still full of wounded "boys" and soldiers' widows,
-decidedly miss the motherly missionary's visits.
-
-John Brooke did his duty manfully for a year, got wounded, was sent
-home, and not allowed to return. He received no stars or bars, but he
-deserved them, for he cheerfully risked all he had; and life and love
-are very precious when both are in full bloom. Perfectly resigned to his
-discharge, he devoted himself to getting well, preparing for business,
-and earning a home for Meg. With the good sense and sturdy independence
-that characterized him, he refused Mr. Laurence's more generous offers,
-and accepted the place of book-keeper feeling better satisfied to begin
-with an honestly-earned salary, than by running any risks with borrowed
-money.
-
-Meg had spent the time in working as well as waiting, growing womanly in
-character, wise in housewifely arts, and prettier than ever; for love is
-a great beautifier. She had her girlish ambitions and hopes, and felt
-some disappointment at the humble way in which the new life must begin.
-Ned Moffat had just married Sallie Gardiner, and Meg couldn't help
-contrasting their fine house and carriage, many gifts, and splendid
-outfit, with her own, and secretly wishing she could have the same. But
-somehow envy and discontent soon vanished when she thought of all the
-patient love and labor John had put into the little home awaiting her;
-and when they sat together in the twilight, talking over their small
-plans, the future always grew so beautiful and bright that she forgot
-Sallie's splendor, and felt herself the richest, happiest girl in
-Christendom.
-
-Jo never went back to Aunt March, for the old lady took such a fancy to
-Amy that she bribed her with the offer of drawing lessons from one of
-the best teachers going; and for the sake of this advantage, Amy would
-have served a far harder mistress. So she gave her mornings to duty, her
-afternoons to pleasure, and prospered finely. Jo, meantime, devoted
-herself to literature and Beth, who remained delicate long after the
-fever was a thing of the past. Not an invalid exactly, but never again
-the rosy, healthy creature she had been; yet always hopeful, happy, and
-serene, busy with the quiet duties she loved, every one's friend, and an
-angel in the house, long before those who loved her most had learned to
-know it.
-
-As long as "The Spread Eagle" paid her a dollar a column for her
-"rubbish," as she called it, Jo felt herself a woman of means, and spun
-her little romances diligently. But great plans fermented in her busy
-brain and ambitious mind, and the old tin kitchen in the garret held a
-slowly increasing pile of blotted manuscript, which was one day to place
-the name of March upon the roll of fame.
-
-Laurie, having dutifully gone to college to please his grandfather, was
-now getting through it in the easiest possible manner to please
-himself. A universal favorite, thanks to money, manners, much talent,
-and the kindest heart that ever got its owner into scrapes by trying to
-get other people out of them, he stood in great danger of being spoilt,
-and probably would have been, like many another promising boy, if he had
-not possessed a talisman against evil in the memory of the kind old man
-who was bound up in his success, the motherly friend who watched over
-him as if he were her son, and last, but not least by any means, the
-knowledge that four innocent girls loved, admired, and believed in him
-with all their hearts.
-
-Being only "a glorious human boy," of course he frolicked and flirted,
-grew dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, as college fashions
-ordained; hazed and was hazed, talked slang, and more than once came
-perilously near suspension and expulsion. But as high spirits and the
-love of fun were the causes of these pranks, he always managed to save
-himself by frank confession, honorable atonement, or the irresistible
-power of persuasion which he possessed in perfection. In fact, he rather
-prided himself on his narrow escapes, and liked to thrill the girls with
-graphic accounts of his triumphs over wrathful tutors, dignified
-professors, and vanquished enemies. The "men of my class" were heroes in
-the eyes of the girls, who never wearied of the exploits of "our
-fellows," and were frequently allowed to bask in the smiles of these
-great creatures, when Laurie brought them home with him.
-
-Amy especially enjoyed this high honor, and became quite a belle among
-them; for her ladyship early felt and learned to use the gift of
-fascination with which she was endowed. Meg was too much absorbed in her
-private and particular John to care for any other lords of creation, and
-Beth too shy to do more than peep at them, and wonder how Amy dared to
-order them about so; but Jo felt quite in her element, and found it very
-difficult to refrain from imitating the gentlemanly attitudes, phrases,
-and feats, which seemed more natural to her than the decorums prescribed
-for young ladies. They all liked Jo immensely, but never fell in love
-with her, though very few escaped without paying the tribute of a
-sentimental sigh or two at Amy's shrine. And speaking of sentiment
-brings us very naturally to the "Dove-cote."
-
-That was the name of the little brown house which Mr. Brooke had
-prepared for Meg's first home. Laurie had christened it, saying it was
-highly appropriate to the gentle lovers, who "went on together like a
-pair of turtle-doves, with first a bill and then a coo." It was a tiny
-house, with a little garden behind, and a lawn about as big as a
-pocket-handkerchief in front. Here Meg meant to have a fountain,
-shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers; though just at present,
-the fountain was represented by a weather-beaten urn, very like a
-dilapidated slop-bowl; the shrubbery consisted of several young larches,
-undecided whether to live or die; and the profusion of flowers was
-merely hinted by regiments of sticks, to show where seeds were planted.
-But inside, it was altogether charming, and the happy bride saw no fault
-from garret to cellar. To be sure, the hall was so narrow, it was
-fortunate that they had no piano, for one never could have been got in
-whole; the dining-room was so small that six people were a tight fit;
-and the kitchen stairs seemed built for the express purpose of
-precipitating both servants and china pell-mell into the coal-bin. But
-once get used to these slight blemishes, and nothing could be more
-complete, for good sense and good taste had presided over the
-furnishing, and the result was highly satisfactory. There were no
-marble-topped tables, long mirrors, or lace curtains in the little
-parlor, but simple furniture, plenty of books, a fine picture or two, a
-stand of flowers in the bay-window, and, scattered all about, the pretty
-gifts which came from friendly hands, and were the fairer for the loving
-messages they brought.
-
-I don't think the Parian Psyche Laurie gave lost any of its beauty
-because John put up the bracket it stood upon; that any upholsterer
-could have draped the plain muslin curtains more gracefully than Amy's
-artistic hand; or that any store-room was ever better provided with good
-wishes, merry words, and happy hopes, than that in which Jo and her
-mother put away Meg's few boxes, barrels, and bundles; and I am morally
-certain that the spandy-new kitchen never _could_ have looked so cosey
-and neat if Hannah had not arranged every pot and pan a dozen times
-over, and laid the fire all ready for lighting, the minute "Mis. Brooke
-came home." I also doubt if any young matron ever began life with so
-rich a supply of dusters, holders, and piece-bags; for Beth made enough
-to last till the silver wedding came round, and invented three
-different kinds of dishcloths for the express service of the bridal
-china.
-
-People who hire all these things done for them never know what they
-lose; for the homeliest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them,
-and Meg found so many proofs of this, that everything in her small nest,
-from the kitchen roller to the silver vase on her parlor table, was
-eloquent of home love and tender forethought.
-
-What happy times they had planning together, what solemn shopping
-excursions; what funny mistakes they made, and what shouts of laughter
-arose over Laurie's ridiculous bargains. In his love of jokes, this
-young gentleman, though nearly through college, was as much of a boy as
-ever. His last whim had been to bring with him, on his weekly visits,
-some new, useful, and ingenious article for the young housekeeper. Now a
-bag of remarkable clothes-pins; next, a wonderful nutmeg-grater, which
-fell to pieces at the first trial; a knife-cleaner that spoilt all the
-knives; or a sweeper that picked the nap neatly off the carpet, and left
-the dirt; labor-saving soap that took the skin off one's hands;
-infallible cements which stuck firmly to nothing but the fingers of the
-deluded buyer; and every kind of tin-ware, from a toy savings-bank for
-odd pennies, to a wonderful boiler which would wash articles in its own
-steam, with every prospect of exploding in the process.
-
-In vain Meg begged him to stop. John laughed at him, and Jo called him
-"Mr. Toodles." He was possessed with a mania for patronizing Yankee
-ingenuity, and seeing his friends fitly furnished forth. So each week
-beheld some fresh absurdity.
-
-Everything was done at last, even to Amy's arranging different colored
-soaps to match the different colored rooms, and Beth's setting the table
-for the first meal.
-
-"Are you satisfied? Does it seem like home, and do you feel as if you
-should be happy here?" asked Mrs. March, as she and her daughter went
-through the new kingdom, arm-in-arm; for just then they seemed to cling
-together more tenderly than ever.
-
-"Yes, mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and _so_ happy
-that I can't talk about it," answered Meg, with a look that was better
-than words.
-
-"If she only had a servant or two it would be all right," said Amy,
-coming out of the parlor, where she had been trying to decide whether
-the bronze Mercury looked best on the whatnot or the mantle-piece.
-
-"Mother and I have talked that over, and I have made up my mind to try
-her way first. There will be so little to do, that, with Lotty to run my
-errands and help me here and there, I shall only have enough work to
-keep me from getting lazy or homesick," answered Meg tranquilly.
-
-"Sallie Moffat has four," began Amy.
-
-"If Meg had four the house wouldn't hold them, and master and missis
-would have to camp in the garden," broke in Jo, who, enveloped in a big
-blue pinafore, was giving the last polish to the door-handles.
-
-"Sallie isn't a poor man's wife, and many maids are in keeping with her
-fine establishment. Meg and John begin humbly, but I have a feeling that
-there will be quite as much happiness in the little house as in the big
-one. It's a great mistake for young girls like Meg to leave themselves
-nothing to do but dress, give orders, and gossip. When I was first
-married, I used to long for my new clothes to wear out or get torn, so
-that I might have the pleasure of mending them; for I got heartily sick
-of doing fancy work and tending my pocket handkerchief."
-
-"Why didn't you go into the kitchen and make messes, as Sallie says she
-does, to amuse herself, though they never turn out well, and the
-servants laugh at her," said Meg.
-
-"I did, after a while; not to 'mess,' but to learn of Hannah how things
-should be done, that my servants need _not_ laugh at me. It was play
-then; but there came a time when I was truly grateful that I not only
-possessed the will but the power to cook wholesome food for my little
-girls, and help myself when I could no longer afford to hire help. You
-begin at the other end, Meg, dear; but the lessons you learn now will be
-of use to you by and by, when John is a richer man, for the mistress of
-a house, however splendid, should know how work ought to be done, if she
-wishes to be well and honestly served."
-
-"Yes, mother, I'm sure of that," said Meg, listening respectfully to the
-little lecture; for the best of women will hold forth upon the
-all-absorbing subject of housekeeping. "Do you know I like this room
-most of all in my baby-house," added Meg, a minute after, as they went
-upstairs, and she looked into her well-stored linen-closet.
-
-Beth was there, laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelves, and
-exulting over the goodly array. All three laughed as Meg spoke; for that
-linen-closet was a joke. You see, having said that if Meg married "that
-Brooke" she shouldn't have a cent of her money, Aunt March was rather in
-a quandary, when time had appeased her wrath and made her repent her
-vow. She never broke her word, and was much exercised in her mind how to
-get round it, and at last devised a plan whereby she could satisfy
-herself. Mrs. Carrol, Florence's mamma, was ordered to buy, have made,
-and marked, a generous supply of house and table linen, and send it as
-_her_ present, all of which was faithfully done; but the secret leaked
-out, and was greatly enjoyed by the family; for Aunt March tried to look
-utterly unconscious, and insisted that she could give nothing but the
-old-fashioned pearls, long promised to the first bride.
-
-"That's a housewifely taste which I am glad to see. I had a young friend
-who set up housekeeping with six sheets, but she had finger bowls for
-company, and that satisfied her," said Mrs. March, patting the damask
-table-cloths, with a truly feminine appreciation of their fineness.
-
-"I haven't a single finger-bowl, but this is a 'set out' that will last
-me all my days, Hannah says;" and Meg looked quite contented, as well
-she might.
-
-"Toodles is coming," cried Jo from below; and they all went down to meet
-Laurie, whose weekly visit was an important event in their quiet lives.
-
-A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, a felt-basin
-of a hat, and a fly-away coat, came tramping down the road at a great
-pace, walked over the low fence without stopping to open the gate,
-straight up to Mrs. March, with both hands out, and a hearty--
-
-"Here I am, mother! Yes, it's all right."
-
-The last words were in answer to the look the elder lady gave him; a
-kindly questioning look, which the handsome eyes met so frankly that the
-little ceremony closed, as usual, with a motherly kiss.
-
-"For Mrs. John Brooke, with the maker's congratulations and compliments.
-Bless you, Beth! What a refreshing spectacle you are, Jo. Amy, you are
-getting altogether too handsome for a single lady."
-
-As Laurie spoke, he delivered a brown paper parcel to Meg, pulled Beth's
-hair-ribbon, stared at Jo's big pinafore, and fell into an attitude of
-mock rapture before Amy, then shook hands all round, and every one began
-to talk.
-
-"Where is John?" asked Meg anxiously.
-
-"Stopped to get the license for to-morrow, ma'am."
-
-"Which side won the last match, Teddy?" inquired Jo, who persisted in
-feeling an interest in manly sports, despite her nineteen years.
-
-"Ours, of course. Wish you'd been there to see."
-
-"How is the lovely Miss Randal?" asked Amy, with a significant smile.
-
-"More cruel than ever; don't you see how I'm pining away?" and Laurie
-gave his broad chest a sounding slap and heaved a melodramatic sigh.
-
-"What's the last joke? Undo the bundle and see, Meg," said Beth, eying
-the knobby parcel with curiosity.
-
-"It's a useful thing to have in the house in case of fire or thieves,"
-observed Laurie, as a watchman's rattle appeared, amid the laughter of
-the girls.
-
-               [Illustration: A small watchman's rattle]
-
-"Any time when John is away, and you get frightened, Mrs. Meg, just
-swing that out of the front window, and it will rouse the neighborhood
-in a jiffy. Nice thing, isn't it?" and Laurie gave them a sample of its
-powers that made them cover up their ears.
-
-"There's gratitude for you! and speaking of gratitude reminds me to
-mention that you may thank Hannah for saving your wedding-cake from
-destruction. I saw it going into your house as I came by, and if she
-hadn't defended it manfully I'd have had a pick at it, for it looked
-like a remarkably plummy one."
-
-"I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie," said Meg, in a matronly
-tone.
-
-"I'm doing my best, ma'am, but can't get much higher, I'm afraid, as six
-feet is about all men can do in these degenerate days," responded the
-young gentleman, whose head was about level with the little chandelier.
-"I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in this spick and
-span new bower, so, as I'm tremendously hungry, I propose an
-adjournment," he added presently.
-
-"Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to
-settle," said Meg, bustling away.
-
-"Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant's to get more flowers for
-to-morrow," added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesque
-curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody.
-
-"Come, Jo, don't desert a fellow. I'm in such a state of exhaustion I
-can't get home without help. Don't take off your apron, whatever you do;
-it's peculiarly becoming," said Laurie, as Jo bestowed his especial
-aversion in her capacious pocket, and offered him her arm to support his
-feeble steps.
-
-"Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about to-morrow," began Jo,
-as they strolled away together. "You _must_ promise to behave well, and
-not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans."
-
-"Not a prank."
-
-"And don't say funny things when we ought to be sober."
-
-"I never do; you are the one for that."
-
-"And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony; I shall
-certainly laugh if you do."
-
-"You won't see me; you'll be crying so hard that the thick fog round you
-will obscure the prospect."
-
-"I never cry unless for some great affliction."
-
-"Such as fellows going to college, hey?" cut in Laurie, with a
-suggestive laugh.
-
-"Don't be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls company."
-
-"Exactly. I say, Jo, how is grandpa this week; pretty amiable?"
-
-"Very; why, have you got into a scrape, and want to know how he'll take
-it?" asked Jo rather sharply.
-
-"Now, Jo, do you think I'd look your mother in the face, and say 'All
-right,' if it wasn't?" and Laurie stopped short, with an injured air.
-
-"No, I don't."
-
-"Then don't go and be suspicious; I only want some money," said Laurie,
-walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone.
-
-"You spend a great deal, Teddy."
-
-"Bless you, _I_ don't spend it; it spends itself, somehow, and is gone
-before I know it."
-
-"You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow, and
-can't say 'No' to any one. We heard about Henshaw, and all you did for
-him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blame you,"
-said Jo warmly.
-
-"Oh, he made a mountain out of a mole-hill. You wouldn't have me let
-that fine fellow work himself to death, just for the want of a little
-help, when he is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?"
-
-"Of course not; but I don't see the use of your having seventeen
-waistcoats, endless neckties, and a new hat every time you come home. I
-thought you'd got over the dandy period; but every now and then it
-breaks out in a new spot. Just now it's the fashion to be hideous,--to
-make your head look like a scrubbing-brush, wear a strait-jacket,
-orange gloves, and clumping, square-toed boots. If it was cheap
-ugliness, I'd say nothing; but it costs as much as the other, and I
-don't get any satisfaction out of it."
-
-Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that
-the felt-basin fell off, and Jo walked on it, which insult only afforded
-him an opportunity for expatiating on the advantages of a
-rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up the maltreated hat, and stuffed
-it into his pocket.
-
-"Don't lecture any more, there's a good soul! I have enough all through
-the week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home. I'll get myself up
-regardless of expense, to-morrow, and be a satisfaction to my friends."
-
-"I'll leave you in peace if you'll _only_ let your hair grow. I'm not
-aristocratic, but I do object to being seen with a person who looks like
-a young prize-fighter," observed Jo severely.
-
-"This unassuming style promotes study; that's why we adopt it," returned
-Laurie, who certainly could not be accused of vanity, having voluntarily
-sacrificed a handsome curly crop to the demand for
-quarter-of-an-inch-long stubble.
-
-"By the way, Jo, I think that little Parker is really getting desperate
-about Amy. He talks of her constantly, writes poetry, and moons about in
-a most suspicious manner. He'd better nip his little passion in the bud,
-hadn't he?" added Laurie, in a confidential, elder-brotherly tone, after
-a minute's silence.
-
-"Of course he had; we don't want any more marrying in this family for
-years to come. Mercy on us, what _are_ the children thinking of?" and Jo
-looked as much scandalized as if Amy and little Parker were not yet in
-their teens.
-
-"It's a fast age, and I don't know what we are coming to, ma'am. You are
-a mere infant, but you'll go next, Jo, and we'll be left lamenting,"
-said Laurie, shaking his head over the degeneracy of the times.
-
-"Don't be alarmed; I'm not one of the agreeable sort. Nobody will want
-me, and it's a mercy, for there should always be one old maid in a
-family."
-
-"You won't give any one a chance," said Laurie, with a sidelong glance,
-and a little more color than before in his sunburnt face. "You won't
-show the soft side of your character; and if a fellow gets a peep at it
-by accident, and can't help showing that he likes it, you treat him as
-Mrs. Gummidge did her sweetheart,--throw cold water over him,--and get
-so thorny no one dares touch or look at you."
-
-"I don't like that sort of thing; I'm too busy to be worried with
-nonsense, and I think it's dreadful to break up families so. Now don't
-say any more about it; Meg's wedding has turned all our heads, and we
-talk of nothing but lovers and such absurdities. I don't wish to get
-cross, so let's change the subject;" and Jo looked quite ready to fling
-cold water on the slightest provocation.
-
-Whatever his feelings might have been, Laurie found a vent for them in a
-long low whistle, and the fearful prediction, as they parted at the
-gate, "Mark my words, Jo, you'll go next."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                   [Illustration: The First Wedding]
-
-                                  XXV.
-
-                           THE FIRST WEDDING.
-
-
-The June roses over the porch were awake bright and early on that
-morning, rejoicing with all their hearts in the cloudless sunshine, like
-friendly little neighbors, as they were. Quite flushed with excitement
-were their ruddy faces, as they swung in the wind, whispering to one
-another what they had seen; for some peeped in at the dining-room
-windows, where the feast was spread, some climbed up to nod and smile at
-the sisters as they dressed the bride, others waved a welcome to those
-who came and went on various errands in garden, porch, and hall, and
-all, from the rosiest full-blown flower to the palest baby-bud, offered
-their tribute of beauty and fragrance to the gentle mistress who had
-loved and tended them so long.
-
-Meg looked very like a rose herself; for all that was best and sweetest
-in heart and soul seemed to bloom into her face that day, making it fair
-and tender, with a charm more beautiful than beauty. Neither silk, lace,
-nor orange-flowers would she have. "I don't want to look strange or
-fixed up to-day," she said. "I don't want a fashionable wedding, but
-only those about me whom I love, and to them I wish to look and be my
-familiar self."
-
-So she made her wedding gown herself, sewing into it the tender hopes
-and innocent romances of a girlish heart. Her sisters braided up her
-pretty hair, and the only ornaments she wore were the lilies of the
-valley, which "her John" liked best of all the flowers that grew.
-
-"You _do_ look just like our own dear Meg, only so very sweet and lovely
-that I should hug you if it wouldn't crumple your dress," cried Amy,
-surveying her with delight, when all was done.
-
-"Then I am satisfied. But please hug and kiss me, every one, and don't
-mind my dress; I want a great many crumples of this sort put into it
-to-day;" and Meg opened her arms to her sisters, who clung about her
-with April faces for a minute, feeling that the new love had not changed
-the old.
-
-"Now I'm going to tie John's cravat for him, and then to stay a few
-minutes with father quietly in the study;" and Meg ran down to perform
-these little ceremonies, and then to follow her mother wherever she
-went, conscious that, in spite of the smiles on the motherly face, there
-was a secret sorrow hid in the motherly heart at the flight of the first
-bird from the nest.
-
-As the younger girls stand together, giving the last touches to their
-simple toilet, it may be a good time to tell of a few changes which
-three years have wrought in their appearance; for all are looking their
-best just now.
-
-Jo's angles are much softened; she has learned to carry herself with
-ease, if not grace. The curly crop has lengthened into a thick coil,
-more becoming to the small head atop of the tall figure. There is a
-fresh color in her brown cheeks, a soft shine in her eyes, and only
-gentle words fall from her sharp tongue to-day.
-
-Beth has grown slender, pale, and more quiet than ever; the beautiful,
-kind eyes are larger, and in them lies an expression that saddens one,
-although it is not sad itself. It is the shadow of pain which touches
-the young face with such pathetic patience; but Beth seldom complains,
-and always speaks hopefully of "being better soon."
-
-Amy is with truth considered "the flower of the family;" for at sixteen
-she has the air and bearing of a full-grown woman--not beautiful, but
-possessed of that indescribable charm called grace. One saw it in the
-lines of her figure, the make and motion of her hands, the flow of her
-dress, the droop of her hair,--unconscious, yet harmonious, and as
-attractive to many as beauty itself. Amy's nose still afflicted her, for
-it never _would_ grow Grecian; so did her mouth, being too wide, and
-having a decided chin. These offending features gave character to her
-whole face, but she never could see it, and consoled herself with her
-wonderfully fair complexion, keen blue eyes, and curls, more golden and
-abundant than ever.
-
-All three wore suits of thin silver gray (their best gowns for the
-summer), with blush-roses in hair and bosom; and all three looked just
-what they were,--fresh-faced, happy-hearted girls, pausing a moment in
-their busy lives to read with wistful eyes the sweetest chapter in the
-romance of womanhood.
-
-There were to be no ceremonious performances, everything was to be as
-natural and homelike as possible; so when Aunt March arrived, she was
-scandalized to see the bride come running to welcome and lead her in, to
-find the bridegroom fastening up a garland that had fallen down, and to
-catch a glimpse of the paternal minister marching upstairs with a grave
-countenance, and a wine-bottle under each arm.
-
-"Upon my word, here's a state of things!" cried the old lady, taking the
-seat of honor prepared for her, and settling the folds of her lavender
-_moire_ with a great rustle. "You oughtn't to be seen till the last
-minute, child."
-
-"I'm not a show, aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to
-criticise my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I'm too happy to
-care what any one says or thinks, and I'm going to have my little
-wedding just as I like it. John, dear, here's your hammer;" and away
-went Meg to help "that man" in his highly improper employment.
-
-Mr. Brooke didn't even say "Thank you," but as he stooped for the
-unromantic tool, he kissed his little bride behind the folding-door,
-with a look that made Aunt March whisk out her pocket-handkerchief, with
-a sudden dew in her sharp old eyes.
-
-A crash, a cry, and a laugh from Laurie, accompanied by the indecorous
-exclamation, "Jupiter Ammon! Jo's upset the cake again!" caused a
-momentary flurry, which was hardly over when a flock of cousins arrived,
-and "the party came in," as Beth used to say when a child.
-
-"Don't let that young giant come near me; he worries me worse than
-mosquitoes," whispered the old lady to Amy, as the rooms filled, and
-Laurie's black head towered above the rest.
-
-"He has promised to be very good to-day, and he _can_ be perfectly
-elegant if he likes," returned Amy, gliding away to warn Hercules to
-beware of the dragon, which warning caused him to haunt the old lady
-with a devotion that nearly distracted her.
-
-There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room
-as Mr. March and the young pair took their places under the green arch.
-Mother and sisters gathered close, as if loath to give Meg up; the
-fatherly voice broke more than once, which only seemed to make the
-service more beautiful and solemn; the bridegroom's hand trembled
-visibly, and no one heard his replies; but Meg looked straight up in her
-husband's eyes, and said, "I will!" with such tender trust in her own
-face and voice that her mother's heart rejoiced, and Aunt March sniffed
-audibly.
-
-Jo did _not_ cry, though she was very near it once, and was only saved
-from a demonstration by the consciousness that Laurie was staring
-fixedly at her, with a comical mixture of merriment and emotion in his
-wicked black eyes. Beth kept her face hidden on her mother's shoulder,
-but Amy stood like a graceful statue, with a most becoming ray of
-sunshine touching her white forehead and the flower in her hair.
-
-It wasn't at all the thing, I'm afraid, but the minute she was fairly
-married, Meg cried, "The first kiss for Marmee!" and, turning, gave it
-with her heart on her lips. During the next fifteen minutes she looked
-more like a rose than ever, for every one availed themselves of their
-privileges to the fullest extent, from Mr. Laurence to old Hannah, who,
-adorned with a head-dress fearfully and wonderfully made, fell upon her
-in the hall, crying, with a sob and a chuckle, "Bless you, deary, a
-hundred times! The cake ain't hurt a mite, and everything looks lovely."
-
-Everybody cleared up after that, and said something brilliant, or tried
-to, which did just as well, for laughter is ready when hearts are light.
-There was no display of gifts, for they were already in the little
-house, nor was there an elaborate breakfast, but a plentiful lunch of
-cake and fruit, dressed with flowers. Mr. Laurence and Aunt March
-shrugged and smiled at one another when water, lemonade, and coffee were
-found to be the only sorts of nectar which the three Hebes carried
-round. No one said anything, however, till Laurie, who insisted on
-serving the bride, appeared before her, with a loaded salver in his hand
-and a puzzled expression on his face.
-
-"Has Jo smashed all the bottles by accident?" he whispered, "or am I
-merely laboring under a delusion that I saw some lying about loose this
-morning?"
-
-"No; your grandfather kindly offered us his best, and Aunt March
-actually sent some, but father put away a little for Beth, and
-despatched the rest to the Soldiers' Home. You know he thinks that wine
-should be used only in illness, and mother says that neither she nor her
-daughters will ever offer it to any young man under her roof."
-
-Meg spoke seriously, and expected to see Laurie frown or laugh; but he
-did neither, for after a quick look at her, he said, in his impetuous
-way, "I like that! for I've seen enough harm done to wish other women
-would think as you do."
-
-"You are not made wise by experience, I hope?" and there was an anxious
-accent in Meg's voice.
-
-"No; I give you my word for it. Don't think too well of me, either; this
-is not one of my temptations. Being brought up where wine is as common
-as water, and almost as harmless, I don't care for it; but when a pretty
-girl offers it, one doesn't like to refuse, you see."
-
-"But you will, for the sake of others, if not for your own. Come,
-Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest
-day of my life."
-
-A demand so sudden and so serious made the young man hesitate a moment,
-for ridicule is often harder to bear than self-denial. Meg knew that if
-he gave the promise he would keep it at all costs; and, feeling her
-power, used it as a woman may for her friend's good. She did not speak,
-but she looked up at him with a face made very eloquent by happiness,
-and a smile which said, "No one can refuse me anything to-day." Laurie
-certainly could not; and, with an answering smile, he gave her his hand,
-saying heartily, "I promise, Mrs. Brooke!"
-
-"I thank you, very, very much."
-
-"And I drink 'long life to your resolution,' Teddy," cried Jo, baptizing
-him with a splash of lemonade, as she waved her glass, and beamed
-approvingly upon him.
-
-So the toast was drunk, the pledge made, and loyally kept, in spite of
-many temptations; for, with instinctive wisdom, the girls had seized a
-happy moment to do their friend a service, for which he thanked them all
-his life.
-
-After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through house
-and garden, enjoying the sunshine without and within. Meg and John
-happened to be standing together in the middle of the grass-plot, when
-Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to
-this unfashionable wedding.
-
-"All the married people take hands and dance round the new-made husband
-and wife, as the Germans do, while we bachelors and spinsters prance in
-couples outside!" cried Laurie, promenading down the path with Amy, with
-such infectious spirit and skill that every one else followed their
-example without a murmur. Mr. and Mrs. March, Aunt and Uncle Carrol,
-began it; others rapidly joined in; even Sallie Moffat, after a moment's
-hesitation, threw her train over her arm, and whisked Ned into the ring.
-But the crowning joke was Mr. Laurence and Aunt March; for when the
-stately old gentleman _chasséed_ solemnly up to the old lady, she just
-tucked her cane under her arm, and hopped briskly away to join hands
-with the rest, and dance about the bridal pair, while the young folks
-pervaded the garden, like butterflies on a midsummer day.
-
-Want of breath brought the impromptu ball to a close, and then people
-began to go.
-
-"I wish you well, my dear, I heartily wish you well; but I think you'll
-be sorry for it," said Aunt March to Meg, adding to the bridegroom, as
-he led her to the carriage, "You've got a treasure, young man, see that
-you deserve it."
-
-"That is the prettiest wedding I've been to for an age, Ned, and I don't
-see why, for there wasn't a bit of style about it," observed Mrs. Moffat
-to her husband, as they drove away.
-
-"Laurie, my lad, if you ever want to indulge in this sort of thing, get
-one of those little girls to help you, and I shall be perfectly
-satisfied," said Mr. Laurence, settling himself in his easy-chair to
-rest, after the excitement of the morning.
-
-"I'll do my best to gratify you, sir," was Laurie's unusually dutiful
-reply, as he carefully unpinned the posy Jo had put in his button-hole.
-
-The little house was not far away, and the only bridal journey Meg had
-was the quiet walk with John, from the old home to the new. When she
-came down, looking like a pretty Quakeress in her dove-colored suit and
-straw bonnet tied with white, they all gathered about her to say
-"good-by," as tenderly as if she had been going to make the grand tour.
-
-"Don't feel that I am separated from you, Marmee dear, or that I love
-you any the less for loving John so much," she said, clinging to her
-mother, with full eyes, for a moment. "I shall come every day, father,
-and expect to keep my old place in all your hearts, though I _am_
-married. Beth is going to be with me a great deal, and the other girls
-will drop in now and then to laugh at my housekeeping struggles. Thank
-you all for my happy wedding-day. Good-by, good-by!"
-
-They stood watching her, with faces full of love and hope and tender
-pride, as she walked away, leaning on her husband's arm, with her hands
-full of flowers, and the June sunshine brightening her happy face,--and
-so Meg's married life began.
-
-
-
-
-                   [Illustration: Artistic Attempts]
-
-                                 XXVI.
-
-                           ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS.
-
-
-It takes people a long time to learn the difference between talent and
-genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy was learning this
-distinction through much tribulation; for, mistaking enthusiasm for
-inspiration, she attempted every branch of art with youthful audacity.
-For a long time there was a lull in the "mud-pie" business, and she
-devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing, in which she showed
-such taste and skill that her graceful handiwork proved both pleasant
-and profitable. But overstrained eyes soon caused pen and ink to be laid
-aside for a bold attempt at poker-sketching. While this attack lasted,
-the family lived in constant fear of a conflagration; for the odor of
-burning wood pervaded the house at all hours; smoke issued from attic
-and shed with alarming frequency, red-hot pokers lay about
-promiscuously, and Hannah never went to bed without a pail of water and
-the dinner-bell at her door, in case of fire. Raphael's face was found
-boldly executed on the under side of the moulding-board, and Bacchus on
-the head of a beer-barrel; a chanting cherub adorned the cover of the
-sugar-bucket, and attempts to portray Romeo and Juliet supplied
-kindlings for some time.
-
-From fire to oil was a natural transition for burnt fingers, and Amy
-fell to painting with undiminished ardor. An artist friend fitted her
-out with his cast-off palettes, brushes, and colors; and she daubed
-away, producing pastoral and marine views such as were never seen on
-land or sea. Her monstrosities in the way of cattle would have taken
-prizes at an agricultural fair; and the perilous pitching of her vessels
-would have produced sea-sickness in the most nautical observer, if the
-utter disregard to all known rules of shipbuilding and rigging had not
-convulsed him with laughter at the first glance. Swarthy boys and
-dark-eyed Madonnas, staring at you from one corner of the studio,
-suggested Murillo; oily-brown shadows of faces, with a lurid streak in
-the wrong place, meant Rembrandt; buxom ladies and dropsical infants,
-Rubens; and Turner appeared in tempests of blue thunder, orange
-lightning, brown rain, and purple clouds, with a tomato-colored splash
-in the middle, which might be the sun or a buoy, a sailor's shirt or a
-king's robe, as the spectator pleased.
-
-Charcoal portraits came next; and the entire family hung in a row,
-looking as wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coal-bin. Softened
-into crayon sketches, they did better; for the likenesses were good, and
-Amy's hair, Jo's nose, Meg's mouth, and Laurie's eyes were pronounced
-"wonderfully fine." A return to clay and plaster followed, and ghostly
-casts of her acquaintances haunted corners of the house, or tumbled off
-closet-shelves on to people's heads. Children were enticed in as models,
-till their incoherent accounts of her mysterious doings caused Miss Amy
-to be regarded in the light of a young ogress. Her efforts in this line,
-however, were brought to an abrupt close by an untoward accident, which
-quenched her ardor. Other models failing her for a time, she undertook
-to cast her own pretty foot, and the family were one day alarmed by an
-unearthly bumping and screaming, and running to the rescue, found the
-young enthusiast hopping wildly about the shed, with her foot held fast
-in a pan-full of plaster, which had hardened with unexpected rapidity.
-With much difficulty and some danger she was dug out; for Jo was so
-overcome with laughter while she excavated, that her knife went too far,
-cut the poor foot, and left a lasting memorial of one artistic attempt,
-at least.
-
-       [Illustration: Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster]
-
-After this Amy subsided, till a mania for sketching from nature set her
-to haunting river, field, and wood, for picturesque studies, and sighing
-for ruins to copy. She caught endless colds sitting on damp grass to
-book "a delicious bit," composed of a stone, a stump, one mushroom, and
-a broken mullein-stalk, or "a heavenly mass of clouds," that looked like
-a choice display of feather-beds when done. She sacrificed her
-complexion floating on the river in the midsummer sun, to study light
-and shade, and got a wrinkle over her nose, trying after "points of
-sight," or whatever the squint-and-string performance is called.
-
-If "genius is eternal patience," as Michael Angelo affirms, Amy
-certainly had some claim to the divine attribute, for she persevered in
-spite of all obstacles, failures, and discouragements, firmly believing
-that in time she should do something worthy to be called "high art."
-
-She was learning, doing, and enjoying other things, meanwhile, for she
-had resolved to be an attractive and accomplished woman, even if she
-never became a great artist. Here she succeeded better; for she was one
-of those happily created beings who please without effort, make friends
-everywhere, and take life so gracefully and easily that less fortunate
-souls are tempted to believe that such are born under a lucky star.
-Everybody liked her, for among her good gifts was tact. She had an
-instinctive sense of what was pleasing and proper, always said the right
-thing to the right person, did just what suited the time and place, and
-was so self-possessed that her sisters used to say, "If Amy went to
-court without any rehearsal beforehand, she'd know exactly what to do."
-
-One of her weaknesses was a desire to move in "our best society,"
-without being quite sure what the _best_ really was. Money, position,
-fashionable accomplishments, and elegant manners were most desirable
-things in her eyes, and she liked to associate with those who possessed
-them, often mistaking the false for the true, and admiring what was not
-admirable. Never forgetting that by birth she was a gentlewoman, she
-cultivated her aristocratic tastes and feelings, so that when the
-opportunity came she might be ready to take the place from which poverty
-now excluded her.
-
-"My lady," as her friends called her, sincerely desired to be a genuine
-lady, and was so at heart, but had yet to learn that money cannot buy
-refinement of nature, that rank does not always confer nobility, and
-that true breeding makes itself felt in spite of external drawbacks.
-
-"I want to ask a favor of you, mamma," Amy said, coming in, with an
-important air, one day.
-
-"Well, little girl, what is it?" replied her mother, in whose eyes the
-stately young lady still remained "the baby."
-
-"Our drawing class breaks up next week, and before the girls separate
-for the summer, I want to ask them out here for a day. They are wild to
-see the river, sketch the broken bridge, and copy some of the things
-they admire in my book. They have been very kind to me in many ways, and
-I am grateful, for they are all rich, and know I am poor, yet they never
-made any difference."
-
-"Why should they?" and Mrs. March put the question with what the girls
-called her "Maria Theresa air."
-
-"You know as well as I that it _does_ make a difference with nearly
-every one, so don't ruffle up, like a dear, motherly hen, when your
-chickens get pecked by smarter birds; the ugly duckling turned out a
-swan, you know;" and Amy smiled without bitterness, for she possessed a
-happy temper and hopeful spirit.
-
-Mrs. March laughed, and smoothed down her maternal pride as she asked,--
-
-"Well, my swan, what is your plan?"
-
-"I should like to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to take them a
-drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river, perhaps, and
-make a little artistic _fête_ for them."
-
-"That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake, sandwiches,
-fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?"
-
-"Oh dear, no! we must have cold tongue and chicken, French chocolate and
-ice-cream, besides. The girls are used to such things, and I want my
-lunch to be proper and elegant, though I _do_ work for my living."
-
-"How many young ladies are there?" asked her mother, beginning to look
-sober.
-
-"Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won't all come."
-
-"Bless me, child, you will have to charter an omnibus to carry them
-about."
-
-"Why, mother, how _can_ you think of such a thing? Not more than six or
-eight will probably come, so I shall hire a beach-wagon, and borrow Mr.
-Laurence's cherry-bounce." (Hannah's pronunciation of _char-à-banc_.)
-
-"All this will be expensive, Amy."
-
-"Not very; I've calculated the cost, and I'll pay for it myself."
-
-"Don't you think, dear, that as these girls are used to such things, and
-the best we can do will be nothing new, that some simpler plan would be
-pleasanter to them, as a change, if nothing more, and much better for us
-than buying or borrowing what we don't need, and attempting a style not
-in keeping with our circumstances?"
-
-"If I can't have it as I like, I don't care to have it at all. I know
-that I can carry it out perfectly well, if you and the girls will help
-a little; and I don't see why I can't if I'm willing to pay for it,"
-said Amy, with the decision which opposition was apt to change into
-obstinacy.
-
-Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher, and when it
-was possible she left her children to learn alone the lessons which she
-would gladly have made easier, if they had not objected to taking advice
-as much as they did salts and senna.
-
-"Very well, Amy; if your heart is set upon it, and you see your way
-through without too great an outlay of money, time, and temper, I'll say
-no more. Talk it over with the girls, and whichever way you decide, I'll
-do my best to help you."
-
-"Thanks, mother; you are always _so_ kind;" and away went Amy to lay her
-plan before her sisters.
-
-Meg agreed at once, and promised her aid, gladly offering anything she
-possessed, from her little house itself to her very best salt-spoons.
-But Jo frowned upon the whole project, and would have nothing to do with
-it at first.
-
-"Why in the world should you spend your money, worry your family, and
-turn the house upside down for a parcel of girls who don't care a
-sixpence for you? I thought you had too much pride and sense to truckle
-to any mortal woman just because she wears French boots and rides in a
-_coupé_," said Jo, who, being called from the tragical climax of her
-novel, was not in the best mood for social enterprises.
-
-"I _don't_ truckle, and I hate being patronized as much as you do!"
-returned Amy indignantly, for the two still jangled when such questions
-arose. "The girls do care for me, and I for them, and there's a great
-deal of kindness and sense and talent among them, in spite of what you
-call fashionable nonsense. You don't care to make people like you, to go
-into good society, and cultivate your manners and tastes. I do, and I
-mean to make the most of every chance that comes. _You_ can go through
-the world with your elbows out and your nose in the air, and call it
-independence, if you like. That's not my way."
-
-When Amy whetted her tongue and freed her mind she usually got the best
-of it, for she seldom failed to have common sense on her side, while Jo
-carried her love of liberty and hate of conventionalities to such an
-unlimited extent that she naturally found herself worsted in an
-argument. Amy's definition of Jo's idea of independence was such a good
-hit that both burst out laughing, and the discussion took a more amiable
-turn. Much against her will, Jo at length consented to sacrifice a day
-to Mrs. Grundy, and help her sister through what she regarded as "a
-nonsensical business."
-
-The invitations were sent, nearly all accepted, and the following Monday
-was set apart for the grand event. Hannah was out of humor because her
-week's work was deranged, and prophesied that "ef the washin' and
-ironin' warn't done reg'lar nothin' would go well anywheres." This hitch
-in the mainspring of the domestic machinery had a bad effect upon the
-whole concern; but Amy's motto was "Nil desperandum," and having made up
-her mind what to do, she proceeded to do it in spite of all obstacles.
-To begin with, Hannah's cooking didn't turn out well: the chicken was
-tough, the tongue too salt, and the chocolate wouldn't froth properly.
-Then the cake and ice cost more than Amy expected, so did the wagon; and
-various other expenses, which seemed trifling at the outset, counted up
-rather alarmingly afterward. Beth got cold and took to her bed, Meg had
-an unusual number of callers to keep her at home, and Jo was in such a
-divided state of mind that her breakages, accidents, and mistakes were
-uncommonly numerous, serious, and trying.
-
-"If it hadn't been for mother I never should have got through," as Amy
-declared afterward, and gratefully remembered when "the best joke of the
-season" was entirely forgotten by everybody else.
-
-If it was not fair on Monday, the young ladies were to come on
-Tuesday,--an arrangement which aggravated Jo and Hannah to the last
-degree. On Monday morning the weather was in that undecided state which
-is more exasperating than a steady pour. It drizzled a little, shone a
-little, blew a little, and didn't make up its mind till it was too late
-for any one else to make up theirs. Amy was up at dawn, hustling people
-out of their beds and through their breakfasts, that the house might be
-got in order. The parlor struck her as looking uncommonly shabby; but
-without stopping to sigh for what she had not, she skilfully made the
-best of what she had, arranging chairs over the worn places in the
-carpet, covering stains on the walls with pictures framed in ivy, and
-filling up empty corners with home-made statuary, which gave an artistic
-air to the room, as did the lovely vases of flowers Jo scattered about.
-
-The lunch looked charmingly; and as she surveyed it, she sincerely hoped
-it would taste well, and that the borrowed glass, china, and silver
-would get safely home again. The carriages were promised, Meg and mother
-were all ready to do the honors, Beth was able to help Hannah behind the
-scenes, Jo had engaged to be as lively and amiable as an absent mind, an
-aching head, and a very decided disapproval of everybody and everything
-would allow, and, as she wearily dressed, Amy cheered herself with
-anticipations of the happy moment, when, lunch safely over, she should
-drive away with her friends for an afternoon of artistic delights; for
-the "cherry-bounce" and the broken bridge were her strong points.
-
-Then came two hours of suspense, during which she vibrated from parlor
-to porch, while public opinion varied like the weathercock. A smart
-shower at eleven had evidently quenched the enthusiasm of the young
-ladies who were to arrive at twelve, for nobody came; and at two the
-exhausted family sat down in a blaze of sunshine to consume the
-perishable portions of the feast, that nothing might be lost.
-
-"No doubt about the weather to-day; they will certainly come, so we must
-fly round and be ready for them," said Amy, as the sun woke her next
-morning. She spoke briskly, but in her secret soul she wished she had
-said nothing about Tuesday, for her interest, like her cake, was getting
-a little stale.
-
-"I can't get any lobsters, so you will have to do without salad to-day,"
-said Mr. March, coming in half an hour later, with an expression of
-placid despair.
-
-"Use the chicken, then; the toughness won't matter in a salad," advised
-his wife.
-
-"Hannah left it on the kitchen-table a minute, and the kittens got at
-it. I'm very sorry, Amy," added Beth, who was still a patroness of cats.
-
-"Then I _must_ have a lobster, for tongue alone won't do," said Amy
-decidedly.
-
-"Shall I rush into town and demand one?" asked Jo, with the magnanimity
-of a martyr.
-
-"You'd come bringing it home under your arm, without any paper, just to
-try me. I'll go myself," answered Amy, whose temper was beginning to
-fail.
-
-Shrouded in a thick veil and armed with a genteel travelling-basket, she
-departed, feeling that a cool drive would soothe her ruffled spirit, and
-fit her for the labors of the day. After some delay, the object of her
-desire was procured, likewise a bottle of dressing, to prevent further
-loss of time at home, and off she drove again, well pleased with her own
-forethought.
-
-As the omnibus contained only one other passenger, a sleepy old lady,
-Amy pocketed her veil, and beguiled the tedium of the way by trying to
-find out where all her money had gone to. So busy was she with her card
-full of refractory figures that she did not observe a new-comer, who
-entered without stopping the vehicle, till a masculine voice said,
-"Good-morning, Miss March," and, looking up, she beheld one of Laurie's
-most elegant college friends. Fervently hoping that he would get out
-before she did, Amy utterly ignored the basket at her feet, and,
-congratulating herself that she had on her new travelling dress,
-returned the young man's greeting with her usual suavity and spirit.
-
-They got on excellently; for Amy's chief care was soon set at rest by
-learning that the gentleman would leave first, and she was chatting away
-in a peculiarly lofty strain, when the old lady got out. In stumbling to
-the door, she upset the basket, and--oh, horror!--the lobster, in all
-its vulgar size and brilliancy, was revealed to the highborn eyes of a
-Tudor.
-
-"By Jove, she's forgotten her dinner!" cried the unconscious youth,
-poking the scarlet monster into its place with his cane, and preparing
-to hand out the basket after the old lady.
-
-"Please don't--it's--it's mine," murmured Amy, with a face nearly as red
-as her fish.
-
-                [Illustration: Please don't, it's mine]
-
-"Oh, really, I beg pardon; it's an uncommonly fine one, isn't it?" said
-Tudor, with great presence of mind, and an air of sober interest that
-did credit to his breeding.
-
-Amy recovered herself in a breath, set her basket boldly on the seat,
-and said, laughing,--
-
-"Don't you wish you were to have some of the salad he's to make, and to
-see the charming young ladies who are to eat it?"
-
-Now that was tact, for two of the ruling foibles of the masculine mind
-were touched: the lobster was instantly surrounded by a halo of pleasing
-reminiscences, and curiosity about "the charming young ladies" diverted
-his mind from the comical mishap.
-
-"I suppose he'll laugh and joke over it with Laurie, but I sha'n't see
-them; that's a comfort," thought Amy, as Tudor bowed and departed.
-
-She did not mention this meeting at home (though she discovered that,
-thanks to the upset, her new dress was much damaged by the rivulets of
-dressing that meandered down the skirt), but went through with the
-preparations which now seemed more irksome than before; and at twelve
-o'clock all was ready again. Feeling that the neighbors were interested
-in her movements, she wished to efface the memory of yesterday's
-failure by a grand success to-day; so she ordered the "cherry-bounce,"
-and drove away in state to meet and escort her guests to the banquet.
-
-"There's the rumble, they're coming! I'll go into the porch to meet
-them; it looks hospitable, and I want the poor child to have a good time
-after all her trouble," said Mrs. March, suiting the action to the word.
-But after one glance, she retired, with an indescribable expression,
-for, looking quite lost in the big carriage, sat Amy and one young lady.
-
-"Run, Beth, and help Hannah clear half the things off the table; it will
-be too absurd to put a luncheon for twelve before a single girl," cried
-Jo, hurrying away to the lower regions, too excited to stop even for a
-laugh.
-
-In came Amy, quite calm, and delightfully cordial to the one guest who
-had kept her promise; the rest of the family, being of a dramatic turn,
-played their parts equally well, and Miss Eliott found them a most
-hilarious set; for it was impossible to entirely control the merriment
-which possessed them. The remodelled lunch being gayly partaken of, the
-studio and garden visited, and art discussed with enthusiasm, Amy
-ordered a buggy (alas for the elegant cherry-bounce!) and drove her
-friend quietly about the neighborhood till sunset, when "the party went
-out."
-
-As she came walking in, looking very tired, but as composed as ever, she
-observed that every vestige of the unfortunate _fête_ had disappeared,
-except a suspicious pucker about the corners of Jo's mouth.
-
-"You've had a lovely afternoon for your drive, dear," said her mother,
-as respectfully as if the whole twelve had come.
-
-"Miss Eliott is a very sweet girl, and seemed to enjoy herself, I
-thought," observed Beth, with unusual warmth.
-
-"Could you spare me some of your cake? I really need some, I have so
-much company, and I can't make such delicious stuff as yours," asked Meg
-soberly.
-
-"Take it all; I'm the only one here who likes sweet things, and it will
-mould before I can dispose of it," answered Amy, thinking with a sigh of
-the generous store she had laid in for such an end as this.
-
-"It's a pity Laurie isn't here to help us," began Jo, as they sat down
-to ice-cream and salad for the second time in two days.
-
-A warning look from her mother checked any further remarks, and the
-whole family ate in heroic silence, till Mr. March mildly observed,
-"Salad was one of the favorite dishes of the ancients, and Evelyn"--here
-a general explosion of laughter cut short the "history of sallets," to
-the great surprise of the learned gentleman.
-
-"Bundle everything into a basket and send it to the Hummels: Germans
-like messes. I'm sick of the sight of this; and there's no reason you
-should all die of a surfeit because I've been a fool," cried Amy, wiping
-her eyes.
-
-"I thought I _should_ have died when I saw you two girls rattling about
-in the what-you-call-it, like two little kernels in a very big nutshell,
-and mother waiting in state to receive the throng," sighed Jo, quite
-spent with laughter.
-
-"I'm very sorry you were disappointed, dear, but we all did our best to
-satisfy you," said Mrs. March, in a tone full of motherly regret.
-
-"I _am_ satisfied; I've done what I undertook, and it's not my fault
-that it failed; I comfort myself with that," said Amy, with a little
-quiver in her voice. "I thank you all very much for helping me, and I'll
-thank you still more if you won't allude to it for a month, at least."
-
-No one did for several months; but the word "_fête_" always produced a
-general smile, and Laurie's birthday gift to Amy was a tiny coral
-lobster in the shape of a charm for her watch-guard.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                    [Illustration: Literary Lessons]
-
-                                 XXVII.
-
-                           LITERARY LESSONS.
-
-
-Fortune suddenly smiled upon Jo, and dropped a good-luck penny in her
-path. Not a golden penny, exactly, but I doubt if half a million would
-have given more real happiness than did the little sum that came to her
-in this wise.
-
-Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her
-scribbling suit, and "fall into a vortex," as she expressed it, writing
-away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was
-finished she could find no peace. Her "scribbling suit" consisted of a
-black woollen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a
-cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which
-she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action. This cap
-was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these
-periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads
-semi-occasionally, to ask, with interest, "Does genius burn, Jo?" They
-did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an
-observation of the cap, and judged accordingly. If this expressive
-article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead, it was a sign that
-hard work was going on; in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly
-askew; and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and
-cast upon the floor. At such times the intruder silently withdrew; and
-not until the red bow was seen gayly erect upon the gifted brow, did any
-one dare address Jo.
-
-She did not think herself a genius by any means; but when the writing
-fit came on, she gave herself up to it with entire abandon, and led a
-blissful life, unconscious of want, care, or bad weather, while she sat
-safe and happy in an imaginary world, full of friends almost as real and
-dear to her as any in the flesh. Sleep forsook her eyes, meals stood
-untasted, day and night were all too short to enjoy the happiness which
-blessed her only at such times, and made these hours worth living, even
-if they bore no other fruit. The divine afflatus usually lasted a week
-or two, and then she emerged from her "vortex," hungry, sleepy, cross,
-or despondent.
-
-She was just recovering from one of these attacks when she was prevailed
-upon to escort Miss Crocker to a lecture, and in return for her virtue
-was rewarded with a new idea. It was a People's Course, the lecture on
-the Pyramids, and Jo rather wondered at the choice of such a subject for
-such an audience, but took it for granted that some great social evil
-would be remedied or some great want supplied by unfolding the glories
-of the Pharaohs to an audience whose thoughts were busy with the price
-of coal and flour, and whose lives were spent in trying to solve harder
-riddles than that of the Sphinx.
-
-They were early; and while Miss Crocker set the heel of her stocking, Jo
-amused herself by examining the faces of the people who occupied the
-seat with them. On her left were two matrons, with massive foreheads,
-and bonnets to match, discussing Woman's Rights and making tatting.
-Beyond sat a pair of humble lovers, artlessly holding each other by the
-hand, a sombre spinster eating peppermints out of a paper bag, and an
-old gentleman taking his preparatory nap behind a yellow bandanna. On
-her right, her only neighbor was a studious-looking lad absorbed in a
-newspaper.
-
-It was a pictorial sheet, and Jo examined the work of art nearest her,
-idly wondering what unfortuitous concatenation of circumstances needed
-the melodramatic illustration of an Indian in full war costume, tumbling
-over a precipice with a wolf at his throat, while two infuriated young
-gentlemen, with unnaturally small feet and big eyes, were stabbing each
-other close by, and a dishevelled female was flying away in the
-background with her mouth wide open. Pausing to turn a page, the lad saw
-her looking, and, with boyish good-nature, offered half his paper,
-saying bluntly, "Want to read it? That's a first-rate story."
-
-Jo accepted it with a smile, for she had never outgrown her liking for
-lads, and soon found herself involved in the usual labyrinth of love,
-mystery, and murder, for the story belonged to that class of light
-literature in which the passions have a holiday, and when the author's
-invention fails, a grand catastrophe clears the stage of one half the
-_dramatis personæ_, leaving the other half to exult over their downfall.
-
-"Prime, isn't it?" asked the boy, as her eye went down the last
-paragraph of her portion.
-
-"I think you and I could do as well as that if we tried," returned Jo,
-amused at his admiration of the trash.
-
-"I should think I was a pretty lucky chap if I could. She makes a good
-living out of such stories, they say;" and he pointed to the name of
-Mrs. S. L. A. N. G. Northbury, under the title of the tale.
-
-"Do you know her?" asked Jo, with sudden interest.
-
-"No; but I read all her pieces, and I know a fellow who works in the
-office where this paper is printed."
-
-"Do you say she makes a good living out of stories like this?" and Jo
-looked more respectfully at the agitated group and thickly-sprinkled
-exclamation-points that adorned the page.
-
-"Guess she does! She knows just what folks like, and gets paid well for
-writing it."
-
-Here the lecture began, but Jo heard very little of it, for while Prof.
-Sands was prosing away about Belzoni, Cheops, scarabei, and
-hieroglyphics, she was covertly taking down the address of the paper,
-and boldly resolving to try for the hundred-dollar prize offered in its
-columns for a sensational story. By the time the lecture ended and the
-audience awoke, she had built up a splendid fortune for herself (not the
-first founded upon paper), and was already deep in the concoction of her
-story, being unable to decide whether the duel should come before the
-elopement or after the murder.
-
-She said nothing of her plan at home, but fell to work next day, much to
-the disquiet of her mother, who always looked a little anxious when
-"genius took to burning." Jo had never tried this style before,
-contenting herself with very mild romances for the "Spread Eagle." Her
-theatrical experience and miscellaneous reading were of service now, for
-they gave her some idea of dramatic effect, and supplied plot, language,
-and costumes. Her story was as full of desperation and despair as her
-limited acquaintance with those uncomfortable emotions enabled her to
-make it, and, having located it in Lisbon, she wound up with an
-earthquake, as a striking and appropriate _dénouement_. The manuscript
-was privately despatched, accompanied by a note, modestly saying that if
-the tale didn't get the prize, which the writer hardly dared expect, she
-would be very glad to receive any sum it might be considered worth.
-
-Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to
-keep a secret; but Jo did both, and was just beginning to give up all
-hope of ever seeing her manuscript again, when a letter arrived which
-almost took her breath away; for on opening it, a check for a hundred
-dollars fell into her lap. For a minute she stared at it as if it had
-been a snake, then she read her letter and began to cry. If the amiable
-gentleman who wrote that kindly note could have known what intense
-happiness he was giving a fellow-creature, I think he would devote his
-leisure hours, if he has any, to that amusement; for Jo valued the
-letter more than the money, because it was encouraging; and after years
-of effort it was _so_ pleasant to find that she had learned to do
-something, though it was only to write a sensation story.
-
-            [Illustration: A check for one hundred dollars]
-
-A prouder young woman was seldom seen than she, when, having composed
-herself, she electrified the family by appearing before them with the
-letter in one hand, the check in the other, announcing that she had won
-the prize. Of course there was a great jubilee, and when the story came
-every one read and praised it; though after her father had told her that
-the language was good, the romance fresh and hearty, and the tragedy
-quite thrilling, he shook his head, and said in his unworldly way,--
-
-"You can do better than this, Jo. Aim at the highest, and never mind the
-money."
-
-"_I_ think the money is the best part of it. What _will_ you do with
-such a fortune?" asked Amy, regarding the magic slip of paper with a
-reverential eye.
-
-"Send Beth and mother to the seaside for a month or two," answered Jo
-promptly.
-
-"Oh, how splendid! No, I can't do it, dear, it would be so selfish,"
-cried Beth, who had clapped her thin hands, and taken a long breath, as
-if pining for fresh ocean-breezes; then stopped herself, and motioned
-away the check which her sister waved before her.
-
-"Ah, but you shall go, I've set my heart on it; that's what I tried for,
-and that's why I succeeded. I never get on when I think of myself alone,
-so it will help me to work for you, don't you see? Besides, Marmee needs
-the change, and she won't leave you, so you _must_ go. Won't it be fun
-to see you come home plump and rosy again? Hurrah for Dr. Jo, who always
-cures her patients!"
-
-To the sea side they went, after much discussion; and though Beth didn't
-come home as plump and rosy as could be desired, she was much better,
-while Mrs. March declared she felt ten years younger; so Jo was
-satisfied with the investment of her prize money, and fell to work with
-a cheery spirit, bent on earning more of those delightful checks. She
-did earn several that year, and began to feel herself a power in the
-house; for by the magic of a pen, her "rubbish" turned into comforts for
-them all. "The Duke's Daughter" paid the butcher's bill, "A Phantom
-Hand" put down a new carpet, and the "Curse of the Coventrys" proved the
-blessing of the Marches in the way of groceries and gowns.
-
-Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing, but poverty has its sunny
-side, and one of the sweet uses of adversity is the genuine satisfaction
-which comes from hearty work of head or hand; and to the inspiration of
-necessity, we owe half the wise, beautiful, and useful blessings of the
-world. Jo enjoyed a taste of this satisfaction, and ceased to envy
-richer girls, taking great comfort in the knowledge that she could
-supply her own wants, and need ask no one for a penny.
-
-Little notice was taken of her stories, but they found a market; and,
-encouraged by this fact, she resolved to make a bold stroke for fame and
-fortune. Having copied her novel for the fourth time, read it to all her
-confidential friends, and submitted it with fear and trembling to three
-publishers, she at last disposed of it, on condition that she would cut
-it down one third, and omit all the parts which she particularly
-admired.
-
-"Now I must either bundle it back into my tin-kitchen to mould, pay for
-printing it myself, or chop it up to suit purchasers, and get what I can
-for it. Fame is a very good thing to have in the house, but cash is more
-convenient; so I wish to take the sense of the meeting on this important
-subject," said Jo, calling a family council.
-
-"Don't spoil your book, my girl, for there is more in it than you know,
-and the idea is well worked out. Let it wait and ripen," was her
-father's advice; and he practised as he preached, having waited
-patiently thirty years for fruit of his own to ripen, and being in no
-haste to gather it, even now, when it was sweet and mellow.
-
-"It seems to me that Jo will profit more by making the trial than by
-waiting," said Mrs. March. "Criticism is the best test of such work, for
-it will show her both unsuspected merits and faults, and help her to do
-better next time. We are too partial; but the praise and blame of
-outsiders will prove useful, even if she gets but little money."
-
-"Yes," said Jo, knitting her brows, "that's just it; I've been fussing
-over the thing so long, I really don't know whether it's good, bad, or
-indifferent. It will be a great help to have cool, impartial persons
-take a look at it, and tell me what they think of it."
-
-"I wouldn't leave out a word of it; you'll spoil it if you do, for the
-interest of the story is more in the minds than in the actions of the
-people, and it will be all a muddle if you don't explain as you go on,"
-said Meg, who firmly believed that this book was the most remarkable
-novel ever written.
-
-"But Mr. Allen says, 'Leave out the explanations, make it brief and
-dramatic, and let the characters tell the story,'" interrupted Jo,
-turning to the publisher's note.
-
-"Do as he tells you; he knows what will sell, and we don't. Make a good,
-popular book, and get as much money as you can. By and by, when, you've
-got a name, you can afford to digress, and have philosophical and
-metaphysical people in your novels," said Amy, who took a strictly
-practical view of the subject.
-
-"Well," said Jo, laughing, "if my people _are_ 'philosophical and
-metaphysical,' it isn't my fault, for I know nothing about such things,
-except what I hear father say, sometimes. If I've got some of his wise
-ideas jumbled up with my romance, so much the better for me. Now, Beth,
-what do you say?"
-
-"I should so like to see it printed _soon_," was all Beth said, and
-smiled in saying it; but there was an unconscious emphasis on the last
-word, and a wistful look in the eyes that never lost their childlike
-candor, which chilled Jo's heart, for a minute, with a foreboding fear,
-and decided her to make her little venture "soon."
-
-So, with Spartan firmness, the young authoress laid her first-born on
-her table, and chopped it up as ruthlessly as any ogre. In the hope of
-pleasing every one, she took every one's advice; and, like the old man
-and his donkey in the fable, suited nobody.
-
-Her father liked the metaphysical streak which had unconsciously got
-into it; so that was allowed to remain, though she had her doubts about
-it. Her mother thought that there _was_ a trifle too much description;
-out, therefore, it nearly all came, and with it many necessary links in
-the story. Meg admired the tragedy; so Jo piled up the agony to suit
-her, while Amy objected to the fun, and, with the best intentions in
-life, Jo quenched the sprightly scenes which relieved the sombre
-character of the story. Then, to complete the ruin, she cut it down one
-third, and confidingly sent the poor little romance, like a picked
-robin, out into the big, busy world, to try its fate.
-
-Well, it was printed, and she got three hundred dollars for it; likewise
-plenty of praise and blame, both so much greater than she expected that
-she was thrown into a state of bewilderment, from which it took her some
-time to recover.
-
-"You said, mother, that criticism would help me; but how can it, when
-it's so contradictory that I don't know whether I've written a promising
-book or broken all the ten commandments?" cried poor Jo, turning over a
-heap of notices, the perusal of which filled her with pride and joy one
-minute, wrath and dire dismay the next. "This man says 'An exquisite
-book, full of truth, beauty, and earnestness; all is sweet, pure, and
-healthy,'" continued the perplexed authoress. "The next, 'The theory of
-the book is bad, full of morbid fancies, spiritualistic ideas, and
-unnatural characters.' Now, as I had no theory of any kind, don't
-believe in Spiritualism, and copied my characters from life, I don't see
-how this critic _can_ be right. Another says, 'It's one of the best
-American novels which has appeared for years' (I know better than that);
-and the next asserts that 'though it is original, and written with great
-force and feeling, it is a dangerous book.' 'Tisn't! Some make fun of
-it, some over-praise, and nearly all insist that I had a deep theory to
-expound, when I only wrote it for the pleasure and the money. I wish I'd
-printed it whole or not at all, for I do hate to be so misjudged."
-
-Her family and friends administered comfort and commendation liberally;
-yet it was a hard time for sensitive, high-spirited Jo, who meant so
-well, and had apparently done so ill. But it did her good, for those
-whose opinion had real value gave her the criticism which is an author's
-best education; and when the first soreness was over, she could laugh at
-her poor little book, yet believe in it still, and feel herself the
-wiser and stronger for the buffeting she had received.
-
-"Not being a genius, like Keats, it won't kill me," she said stoutly;
-"and I've got the joke on my side, after all; for the parts that were
-taken straight out of real life are denounced as impossible and absurd,
-and the scenes that I made up out of my own silly head are pronounced
-'charmingly natural, tender, and true.' So I'll comfort myself with
-that; and when I'm ready, I'll up again and take another."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                  [Illustration: Domestic Experiences]
-
-                                XXVIII.
-
-                         DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES.
-
-
-Like most other young matrons, Meg began her married life with the
-determination to be a model housekeeper. John should find home a
-paradise; he should always see a smiling face, should fare sumptuously
-every day, and never know the loss of a button. She brought so much
-love, energy, and cheerfulness to the work that she could not but
-succeed, in spite of some obstacles. Her paradise was not a tranquil
-one; for the little woman fussed, was over-anxious to please, and
-bustled about like a true Martha, cumbered with many cares. She was too
-tired, sometimes, even to smile; John grew dyspeptic after a course of
-dainty dishes, and ungratefully demanded plain fare. As for buttons, she
-soon learned to wonder where they went, to shake her head over the
-carelessness of men, and to threaten to make him sew them on himself,
-and then see if _his_ work would stand impatient tugs and clumsy fingers
-any better than hers.
-
-They were very happy, even after they discovered that they couldn't live
-on love alone. John did not find Meg's beauty diminished, though she
-beamed at him from behind the familiar coffee-pot; nor did Meg miss any
-of the romance from the daily parting, when her husband followed up his
-kiss with the tender inquiry, "Shall I send home veal or mutton for
-dinner, darling?" The little house ceased to be a glorified bower, but
-it became a home, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change
-for the better. At first they played keep-house, and frolicked over it
-like children; then John took steadily to business, feeling the cares of
-the head of a family upon his shoulders; and Meg laid by her cambric
-wrappers, put on a big apron, and fell to work, as before said, with
-more energy than discretion.
-
-While the cooking mania lasted she went through Mrs. Cornelius's Receipt
-Book as if it were a mathematical exercise, working out the problems
-with patience and care. Sometimes her family were invited in to help eat
-up a too bounteous feast of successes, or Lotty would be privately
-despatched with a batch of failures, which were to be concealed from all
-eyes in the convenient stomachs of the little Hummels. An evening with
-John over the account-books usually produced a temporary lull in the
-culinary enthusiasm, and a frugal fit would ensue, during which the poor
-man was put through a course of bread-pudding, hash, and warmed-over
-coffee, which tried his soul, although he bore it with praiseworthy
-fortitude. Before the golden mean was found, however, Meg added to her
-domestic possessions what young couples seldom get on long without,--a
-family jar.
-
-Fired with a housewifely wish to see her store-room stocked with
-home-made preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. John
-was requested to order home a dozen or so of little pots, and an extra
-quantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe, and were to be
-attended to at once. As John firmly believed that "my wife" was equal to
-anything, and took a natural pride in her skill, he resolved that she
-should be gratified, and their only crop of fruit laid by in a most
-pleasing form for winter use. Home came four dozen delightful little
-pots, half a barrel of sugar, and a small boy to pick the currants for
-her. With her pretty hair tucked into a little cap, arms bared to the
-elbow, and a checked apron which had a coquettish look in spite of the
-bib, the young housewife fell to work, feeling no doubts about her
-success; for hadn't she seen Hannah do it hundreds of times? The array
-of pots rather amazed her at first, but John was so fond of jelly, and
-the nice little jars would look so well on the top shelf, that Meg
-resolved to fill them all, and spent a long day picking, boiling,
-straining, and fussing over her jelly. She did her best; she asked
-advice of Mrs. Cornelius; she racked her brain to remember what Hannah
-did that she had left undone; she reboiled, resugared, and restrained,
-but that dreadful stuff wouldn't "_jell_."
-
-She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask mother to lend a hand, but
-John and she had agreed that they would never annoy any one with their
-private worries, experiments, or quarrels. They had laughed over that
-last word as if the idea it suggested was a most preposterous one; but
-they had held to their resolve, and whenever they could get on without
-help they did so, and no one interfered, for Mrs. March had advised the
-plan. So Meg wrestled alone with the refractory sweetmeats all that hot
-summer day, and at five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvy kitchen,
-wrung her bedaubed hands, lifted up her voice and wept.
-
-Now, in the first flush of the new life, she had often said,--
-
-"My husband shall always feel free to bring a friend home whenever he
-likes. I shall always be prepared; there shall be no flurry, no
-scolding, no discomfort, but a neat house, a cheerful wife, and a good
-dinner. John, dear, never stop to ask my leave, invite whom you please,
-and be sure of a welcome from me."
-
-How charming that was, to be sure! John quite glowed with pride to hear
-her say it, and felt what a blessed thing it was to have a superior
-wife. But, although they had had company from time to time, it never
-happened to be unexpected, and Meg had never had an opportunity to
-distinguish herself till now. It always happens so in this vale of
-tears; there is an inevitability about such things which we can only
-wonder at, deplore, and bear as we best can.
-
-If John had not forgotten all about the jelly, it really would have been
-unpardonable in him to choose that day, of all the days in the year, to
-bring a friend home to dinner unexpectedly. Congratulating himself that
-a handsome repast had been ordered that morning, feeling sure that it
-would be ready to the minute, and indulging in pleasant anticipations of
-the charming effect it would produce, when his pretty wife came running
-out to meet him, he escorted his friend to his mansion, with the
-irrepressible satisfaction of a young host and husband.
-
-It is a world of disappointments, as John discovered when he reached the
-Dove-cote. The front door usually stood hospitably open; now it was not
-only shut, but locked, and yesterday's mud still adorned the steps. The
-parlor-windows were closed and curtained, no picture of the pretty wife
-sewing on the piazza, in white, with a distracting little bow in her
-hair, or a bright-eyed hostess, smiling a shy welcome as she greeted her
-guest. Nothing of the sort, for not a soul appeared, but a
-sanguinary-looking boy asleep under the currant-bushes.
-
-"I'm afraid something has happened. Step into the garden, Scott, while I
-look up Mrs. Brooke," said John, alarmed at the silence and solitude.
-
-Round the house he hurried, led by a pungent smell of burnt sugar, and
-Mr. Scott strolled after him, with a queer look on his face. He paused
-discreetly at a distance when Brooke disappeared; but he could both see
-and hear, and, being a bachelor, enjoyed the prospect mightily.
-
-In the kitchen reigned confusion and despair; one edition of jelly was
-trickled from pot to pot, another lay upon the floor, and a third was
-burning gayly on the stove. Lotty, with Teutonic phlegm, was calmly
-eating bread and currant wine, for the jelly was still in a hopelessly
-liquid state, while Mrs. Brooke, with her apron over her head, sat
-sobbing dismally.
-
-"My dearest girl, what is the matter?" cried John, rushing in, with
-awful visions of scalded hands, sudden news of affliction, and secret
-consternation at the thought of the guest in the garden.
-
-"O John, I _am_ so tired and hot and cross and worried! I've been at it
-till I'm all worn out. Do come and help me or I _shall_ die!" and the
-exhausted housewife cast herself upon his breast, giving him a sweet
-welcome in every sense of the word, for her pinafore had been baptized
-at the same time as the floor.
-
-"What worries you, dear? Has anything dreadful happened?" asked the
-anxious John, tenderly kissing the crown of the little cap, which was
-all askew.
-
-"Yes," sobbed Meg despairingly.
-
-"Tell me quick, then. Don't cry, I can bear anything better than that.
-Out with it, love."
-
-"The--the jelly won't jell and I don't know what to do!"
-
-John Brooke laughed then as he never dared to laugh afterward; and the
-derisive Scott smiled involuntarily as he heard the hearty peal, which
-put the finishing stroke to poor Meg's woe.
-
-"Is that all? Fling it out of window, and don't bother any more about
-it. I'll buy you quarts if you want it; but for heaven's sake don't have
-hysterics, for I've brought Jack Scott home to dinner, and--"
-
-John got no further, for Meg cast him off, and clasped her hands with a
-tragic gesture as she fell into a chair, exclaiming in a tone of mingled
-indignation, reproach, and dismay,--
-
-"A man to dinner, and everything in a mess! John Brooke, how _could_ you
-do such a thing?"
-
-"Hush, he's in the garden! I forgot the confounded jelly, but it can't
-be helped now," said John, surveying the prospect with an anxious eye.
-
-"You ought to have sent word, or told me this morning, and you ought to
-have remembered how busy I was," continued Meg petulantly; for even
-turtle-doves will peck when ruffled.
-
-"I didn't know it this morning, and there was no time to send word, for
-I met him on the way out. I never thought of asking leave, when you have
-always told me to do as I liked. I never tried it before, and hang me if
-I ever do again!" added John, with an aggrieved air.
-
-"I should hope not! Take him away at once; I can't see him, and there
-isn't any dinner."
-
-"Well, I like that! Where's the beef and vegetables I sent home, and the
-pudding you promised?" cried John, rushing to the larder.
-
-"I hadn't time to cook anything; I meant to dine at mother's. I'm sorry,
-but I was _so_ busy;" and Meg's tears began again.
-
-John was a mild man, but he was human; and after a long day's work, to
-come home tired, hungry, and hopeful, to find a chaotic house, an empty
-table, and a cross wife was not exactly conducive to repose of mind or
-manner. He restrained himself, however, and the little squall would have
-blown over, but for one unlucky word.
-
-"It's a scrape, I acknowledge; but if you will lend a hand, we'll pull
-through, and have a good time yet. Don't cry, dear, but just exert
-yourself a bit, and knock us up something to eat. We're both as hungry
-as hunters, so we sha'n't mind what it is. Give us the cold meat, and
-bread and cheese; we won't ask for jelly."
-
-He meant it for a good-natured joke; but that one word sealed his fate.
-Meg thought it was _too_ cruel to hint about her sad failure, and the
-last atom of patience vanished as he spoke.
-
-"You must get yourself out of the scrape as you can; I'm too used up to
-'exert' myself for any one. It's like a man to propose a bone and vulgar
-bread and cheese for company. I won't have anything of the sort in my
-house. Take that Scott up to mother's, and tell him I'm away, sick,
-dead,--anything. I won't see him, and you two can laugh at me and my
-jelly as much as you like: you won't have anything else here;" and
-having delivered her defiance all in one breath, Meg cast away her
-pinafore, and precipitately left the field to bemoan herself in her own
-room.
-
-What those two creatures did in her absence, she never knew; but Mr.
-Scott was not taken "up to mother's," and when Meg descended, after they
-had strolled away together, she found traces of a promiscuous lunch
-which filled her with horror. Lotty reported that they had eaten "a
-much, and greatly laughed, and the master bid her throw away all the
-sweet stuff, and hide the pots."
-
-Meg longed to go and tell mother; but a sense of shame at her own
-short-comings, of loyalty to John, "who might be cruel, but nobody
-should know it," restrained her; and after a summary clearing up, she
-dressed herself prettily, and sat down to wait for John to come and be
-forgiven.
-
-Unfortunately, John didn't come, not seeing the matter in that light. He
-had carried it off as a good joke with Scott, excused his little wife as
-well as he could, and played the host so hospitably that his friend
-enjoyed the impromptu dinner, and promised to come again. But John was
-angry, though he did not show it; he felt that Meg had got him into a
-scrape, and then deserted him in his hour of need. "It wasn't fair to
-tell a man to bring folks home any time, with perfect freedom, and when
-he took you at your word, to flame up and blame him, and leave him in
-the lurch, to be laughed at or pitied. No, by George, it wasn't! and Meg
-must know it." He had fumed inwardly during the feast, but when the
-flurry was over, and he strolled home, after seeing Scott off, a milder
-mood came over him. "Poor little thing! it was hard upon her when she
-tried so heartily to please me. She was wrong, of course, but then she
-was young. I must be patient and teach her." He hoped she had not gone
-home--he hated gossip and interference. For a minute he was ruffled
-again at the mere thought of it; and then the fear that Meg would cry
-herself sick softened his heart, and sent him on at a quicker pace,
-resolving to be calm and kind, but firm, quite firm, and show her where
-she had failed in her duty to her spouse.
-
-Meg likewise resolved to be "calm and kind, but firm," and show _him_
-his duty. She longed to run to meet him, and beg pardon, and be kissed
-and comforted, as she was sure of being; but, of course, she did nothing
-of the sort, and when she saw John coming, began to hum quite naturally,
-as she rocked and sewed, like a lady of leisure in her best parlor.
-
-John was a little disappointed not to find a tender Niobe; but, feeling
-that his dignity demanded the first apology, he made none, only came
-leisurely in, and laid himself upon the sofa, with the singularly
-relevant remark,--
-
-"We are going to have a new moon, my dear."
-
-"I've no objection," was Meg's equally soothing remark.
-
-A few other topics of general interest were introduced by Mr. Brooke,
-and wet-blanketed by Mrs. Brooke, and conversation languished. John went
-to one window, unfolded his paper, and wrapped himself in it,
-figuratively speaking. Meg went to the other window, and sewed as if new
-rosettes for her slippers were among the necessaries of life. Neither
-spoke; both looked quite "calm and firm," and both felt desperately
-uncomfortable.
-
-          [Illustration: Both felt desperately uncomfortable]
-
-"Oh dear," thought Meg, "married life is very trying, and does need
-infinite patience, as well as love, as mother says." The word "mother"
-suggested other maternal counsels, given long ago, and received with
-unbelieving protests.
-
-"John is a good man, but he has his faults, and you must learn to see
-and bear with them, remembering your own. He is very decided, but never
-will be obstinate, if you reason kindly, not oppose impatiently. He is
-very accurate, and particular about the truth--a good trait, though you
-call him 'fussy.' Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will
-give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a
-temper, not like ours,--one flash, and then all over,--but the white,
-still anger, that is seldom stirred, but once kindled, is hard to
-quench. Be careful, very careful, not to wake this anger against
-yourself, for peace and happiness depend on keeping his respect. Watch
-yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against
-the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave
-the way for bitter sorrow and regret."
-
-These words came back to Meg, as she sat sewing in the sunset,
-especially the last. This was the first serious disagreement; her own
-hasty speeches sounded both silly and unkind, as she recalled them, her
-own anger looked childish now, and thoughts of poor John coming home to
-such a scene quite melted her heart. She glanced at him with tears in
-her eyes, but he did not see them; she put down her work and got up,
-thinking, "I _will_ be the first to say, 'Forgive me,'" but he did not
-seem to hear her; she went very slowly across the room, for pride was
-hard to swallow, and stood by him, but he did not turn his head. For a
-minute she felt as if she really couldn't do it; then came the thought,
-"This is the beginning, I'll do my part, and have nothing to reproach
-myself with," and stooping down, she softly kissed her husband on the
-forehead. Of course that settled it; the penitent kiss was better than a
-world of words, and John had her on his knee in a minute, saying
-tenderly,--
-
-"It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly-pots. Forgive me,
-dear, I never will again!"
-
-But he did, oh bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both
-declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made; for family
-peace was preserved in that little family jar.
-
-After this, Meg had Mr. Scott to dinner by special invitation, and
-served him up a pleasant feast without a cooked wife for the first
-course; on which occasion she was so gay and gracious, and made
-everything go off so charmingly, that Mr. Scott told John he was a happy
-fellow, and shook his head over the hardships of bachelorhood all the
-way home.
-
-In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat
-renewed her friendship, was always running out for a dish of gossip at
-the little house, or inviting "that poor dear" to come in and spend the
-day at the big house. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often
-felt lonely; all were busy at home, John absent till night, and nothing
-to do but sew, or read, or potter about. So it naturally fell out that
-Meg got into the way of gadding and gossiping with her friend. Seeing
-Sallie's pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because
-she had not got them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the
-coveted trifles; but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn't like
-it; and then this foolish little woman went and did what John disliked
-infinitely worse.
-
-She knew her husband's income, and she loved to feel that he trusted
-her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to value
-more,--his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she
-liked, and all he asked was that she should keep account of every penny,
-pay bills once a month, and remember that she was a poor man's wife.
-Till now, she had done well, been prudent and exact, kept her little
-account-books neatly, and showed them to him monthly without fear. But
-that autumn the serpent got into Meg's paradise, and tempted her, like
-many a modern Eve, not with apples, but with dress. Meg didn't like to
-be pitied and made to feel poor; it irritated her, but she was ashamed
-to confess it, and now and then she tried to console herself by buying
-something pretty, so that Sallie needn't think she had to economize. She
-always felt wicked after it, for the pretty things were seldom
-necessaries; but then they cost so little, it wasn't worth worrying
-about; so the trifles increased unconsciously, and in the shopping
-excursions she was no longer a passive looker-on.
-
-But the trifles cost more than one would imagine; and when she cast up
-her accounts at the end of the month, the sum total rather scared her.
-John was busy that month, and left the bills to her; the next month he
-was absent; but the third he had a grand quarterly settling up, and Meg
-never forgot it. A few days before she had done a dreadful thing, and it
-weighed upon her conscience. Sallie had been buying silks, and Meg
-longed for a new one,--just a handsome light one for parties, her black
-silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper
-for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five
-dollars apiece at New Year; that was only a month to wait, and here was
-a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she
-only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers; but would
-he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but
-another five-and-twenty out of the household fund? That was the
-question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had offered to loan the money,
-and with the best intentions in life, had tempted Meg beyond her
-strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering
-folds, and said, "A bargain, I assure you, ma'am." She answered, "I'll
-take it;" and it was cut off and paid for, and Sallie had exulted, and
-she had laughed as if it were a thing of no consequence, and driven
-away, feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after
-her.
-
-             [Illustration: A bargain, I assure you, ma'am]
-
-When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by
-spreading forth the lovely silk; but it looked less silvery now, didn't
-become her, after all, and the words "fifty dollars" seemed stamped like
-a pattern down each breadth. She put it away; but it haunted her, not
-delightfully, as a new dress should, but dreadfully, like the ghost of a
-folly that was not easily laid. When John got out his books that night,
-Meg's heart sank, and for the first time in her married life, she was
-afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked as if they could be
-stern; and though he was unusually merry, she fancied he had found her
-out, but didn't mean to let her know it. The house-bills were all paid,
-the books all in order. John had praised her, and was undoing the old
-pocket-book which they called the "bank," when Meg, knowing that it was
-quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously,--
-
-"You haven't seen my private expense book yet."
-
-John never asked to see it; but she always insisted on his doing so, and
-used to enjoy his masculine amazement at the queer things women wanted,
-and made him guess what "piping" was, demand fiercely the meaning of a
-"hug-me-tight," or wonder how a little thing composed of three rosebuds,
-a bit of velvet, and a pair of strings, could possibly be a bonnet, and
-cost five or six dollars. That night he looked as if he would like the
-fun of quizzing her figures and pretending to be horrified at her
-extravagance, as he often did, being particularly proud of his prudent
-wife.
-
-The little book was brought slowly out, and laid down before him. Meg
-got behind his chair under pretence of smoothing the wrinkles out of his
-tired forehead, and standing there, she said, with her panic increasing
-with every word,--
-
-"John, dear, I'm ashamed to show you my book, for I've really been
-dreadfully extravagant lately. I go about so much I must have things,
-you know, and Sallie advised my getting it, so I did; and my New-Year's
-money will partly pay for it: but I was sorry after I'd done it, for I
-knew you'd think it wrong in me."
-
-John laughed, and drew her round beside him, saying good-humoredly,
-"Don't go and hide. I won't beat you if you _have_ got a pair of killing
-boots; I'm rather proud of my wife's feet, and don't mind if she does
-pay eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones."
-
-That had been one of her last "trifles," and John's eye had fallen on it
-as he spoke. "Oh, what _will_ he say when he comes to that awful fifty
-dollars!" thought Meg, with a shiver.
-
-"It's worse than boots, it's a silk dress," she said, with the calmness
-of desperation, for she wanted the worst over.
-
-"Well, dear, what is the 'dem'd total,' as Mr. Mantalini says?"
-
-That didn't sound like John, and she knew he was looking up at her with
-the straightforward look that she had always been ready to meet and
-answer with one as frank till now. She turned the page and her head at
-the same time, pointing to the sum which would have been bad enough
-without the fifty, but which was appalling to her with that added. For a
-minute the room was very still; then John said slowly,--but she could
-feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure,--
-
-"Well, I don't know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the
-furbelows and notions you have to have to finish it off these days."
-
-"It isn't made or trimmed," sighed Meg faintly, for a sudden
-recollection of the cost still to be incurred quite overwhelmed her.
-
-"Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman,
-but I've no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat's when she
-gets it on," said John dryly.
-
-"I know you are angry, John, but I can't help it. I don't mean to waste
-your money, and I didn't think those little things would count up so. I
-can't resist them when I see Sallie buying all she wants, and pitying me
-because I don't. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I'm tired of
-being poor."
-
-The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but
-he did, and they wounded him deeply, for he had denied himself many
-pleasures for Meg's sake. She could have bitten her tongue out the
-minute she had said it, for John pushed the books away, and got up,
-saying, with a little quiver in his voice, "I was afraid of this; I do
-my best, Meg." If he had scolded her, or even shaken her, it would not
-have broken her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him
-close, crying, with repentant tears, "O John, my dear, kind,
-hard-working boy, I didn't mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and
-ungrateful, how could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!"
-
-He was very kind, forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach;
-but Meg knew that she had done and said a thing which would not be
-forgotten soon, although he might never allude to it again. She had
-promised to love him for better for worse; and then she, his wife, had
-reproached him with his poverty, after spending his earnings recklessly.
-It was dreadful; and the worst of it was John went on so quietly
-afterward, just as if nothing had happened, except that he stayed in
-town later, and worked at night when she had gone to cry herself to
-sleep. A week of remorse nearly made Meg sick; and the discovery that
-John had countermanded the order for his new great-coat reduced her to a
-state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He had simply said, in
-answer to her surprised inquiries as to the change, "I can't afford it,
-my dear."
-
-Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall, with
-her face buried in the old great-coat, crying as if her heart would
-break.
-
-They had a long talk that night, and Meg learned to love her husband
-better for his poverty, because it seemed to have made a man of him,
-given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him
-a tender patience with which to bear and comfort the natural longings
-and failures of those he loved.
-
-Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the
-truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good-natured Mrs.
-Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present
-of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the great-coat, and,
-when John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new
-silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his
-present, and what a blissful state of things ensued. John came home
-early, Meg gadded no more; and that great-coat was put on in the morning
-by a very happy husband, and taken off at night by a most devoted little
-wife. So the year rolled round, and at midsummer there came to Meg a new
-experience,--the deepest and tenderest of a woman's life.
-
-Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dove-cote, one Saturday,
-with an excited face, and was received with the clash of cymbals; for
-Hannah clapped her hands with a saucepan in one and the cover in the
-other.
-
-"How's the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn't you tell me
-before I came home?" began Laurie, in a loud whisper.
-
-"Happy as a queen, the dear! Every soul of 'em is upstairs a worshipin';
-we didn't want no hurrycanes round. Now you go into the parlor, and I'll
-send 'em down to you," with which somewhat involved reply Hannah
-vanished, chuckling ecstatically.
-
-Presently Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle laid forth upon
-a large pillow. Jo's face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and
-there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion of some sort.
-
-"Shut your eyes and hold out your arms," she said invitingly.
-
-Laurie backed precipitately into a corner, and put his hands behind him
-with an imploring gesture: "No, thank you, I'd rather not. I shall drop
-it or smash it, as sure as fate."
-
-"Then you sha'n't see your nevvy," said Jo decidedly, turning as if to
-go.
-
-"I will, I will! only you must be responsible for damages;" and, obeying
-orders, Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his
-arms. A peal of laughter from Jo, Amy, Mrs. March, Hannah, and John
-caused him to open them the next minute, to find himself invested with
-two babies instead of one.
-
-[Illustration: Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put
-                             into his arms]
-
-No wonder they laughed, for the expression of his face was droll enough
-to convulse a Quaker, as he stood and stared wildly from the unconscious
-innocents to the hilarious spectators, with such dismay that Jo sat down
-on the floor and screamed.
-
-"Twins, by Jupiter!" was all he said for a minute; then, turning to the
-women with an appealing look that was comically piteous, he added, "Take
-'em quick, somebody! I'm going to laugh, and I shall drop 'em."
-
-John rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each arm,
-as if already initiated into the mysteries of baby-tending, while Laurie
-laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
-
-"It's the best joke of the season, isn't it? I wouldn't have you told,
-for I set my heart on surprising you, and I flatter myself I've done
-it," said Jo, when she got her breath.
-
-"I never was more staggered in my life. Isn't it fun? Are they boys?
-What are you going to name them? Let's have another look. Hold me up,
-Jo; for upon my life it's one too many for me," returned Laurie,
-regarding the infants with the air of a big, benevolent Newfoundland
-looking at a pair of infantile kittens.
-
-"Boy and girl. Aren't they beauties?" said the proud papa, beaming upon
-the little, red squirmers as if they were unfledged angels.
-
-"Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?" and Laurie bent
-like a well-sweep to examine the prodigies.
-
-"Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French
-fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one
-brown. Kiss them, Uncle Teddy," said wicked Jo.
-
-"I'm afraid they mightn't like it," began Laurie, with unusual timidity
-in such matters.
-
-"Of course they will; they are used to it now. Do it this minute, sir!"
-commanded Jo, fearing he might propose a proxy.
-
-Laurie screwed up his face, and obeyed with a gingerly peck at each
-little cheek that produced another laugh, and made the babies squeal.
-
-"There, I knew they didn't like it! That's the boy; see him kick; he
-hits out with his fists like a good one. Now then, young Brooke, pitch
-into a man of your own size, will you?" cried Laurie, delighted with a
-poke in the face from a tiny fist, flapping aimlessly about.
-
-"He's to be named John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after mother and
-grandmother. We shall call her Daisy, so as not to have two Megs, and I
-suppose the mannie will be Jack, unless we find a better name," said
-Amy, with aunt-like interest.
-
-"Name him Demijohn, and call him 'Demi' for short," said Laurie.
-
-"Daisy and Demi,--just the thing! I _knew_ Teddy would do it," cried Jo,
-clapping her hands.
-
-Teddy certainly had done it that time, for the babies were "Daisy" and
-"Demi" to the end of the chapter.
-
-
-
-
-                                 XXIX.
-
-                                 CALLS.
-
-
-                         [Illustration: Calls]
-
-"Come, Jo, it's time."
-
-"For what?"
-
-"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half
-a dozen calls with me to-day?"
-
-"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't
-think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day, when a
-single one upsets me for a week."
-
-"Yes, you did; it was a bargain between us. I was to finish the crayon
-of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me, and return our
-neighbors' visits."
-
-"If it was fair--that was in the bond; and I stand to the letter of my
-bond, Shylock. There is a pile of clouds in the east; it's _not_ fair,
-and I don't go."
-
-"Now, that's shirking. It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain, and you
-pride yourself on keeping promises; so be honorable; come and do your
-duty, and then be at peace for another six months."
-
-At that minute Jo was particularly absorbed in dressmaking; for she was
-mantua-maker general to the family, and took especial credit to herself
-because she could use a needle as well as a pen. It was very provoking
-to be arrested in the act of a first trying-on, and ordered out to make
-calls in her best array, on a warm July day. She hated calls of the
-formal sort, and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain,
-bribe, or promise. In the present instance, there was no escape; and
-having clashed her scissors rebelliously, while protesting that she
-smelt thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and
-gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready.
-
-"Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint! You don't intend
-to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveying her with
-amazement.
-
-"Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable; quite proper for a dusty
-walk on a warm day. If people care more for my clothes than they do for
-me, I don't wish to see them. You can dress for both, and be as elegant
-as you please: it pays for you to be fine; it doesn't for me, and
-furbelows only worry me."
-
-"Oh dear!" sighed Amy; "now she's in a contrary fit, and will drive me
-distracted before I can get her properly ready. I'm sure it's no
-pleasure to me to go to-day, but it's a debt we owe society, and there's
-no one to pay it but you and me. I'll do anything for you, Jo, if you'll
-only dress yourself nicely, and come and help me do the civil. You can
-talk so well, look so aristocratic in your best things, and behave so
-beautifully, if you try, that I'm proud of you. I'm afraid to go alone;
-do come and take care of me."
-
-"You're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle your cross old
-sister in that way. The idea of my being aristocratic and well-bred, and
-your being afraid to go anywhere alone! I don't know which is the most
-absurd. Well, I'll go if I must, and do my best. You shall be commander
-of the expedition, and I'll obey blindly; will that satisfy you?" said
-Jo, with a sudden change from perversity to lamb-like submission.
-
-"You're a perfect cherub! Now put on all your best things, and I'll tell
-you how to behave at each place, so that you will make a good
-impression. I want people to like you, and they would if you'd only try
-to be a little more agreeable. Do your hair the pretty way, and put the
-pink rose in your bonnet; it's becoming, and you look too sober in your
-plain suit. Take your light gloves and the embroidered handkerchief.
-We'll stop at Meg's, and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can
-have my dove-colored one."
-
-While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyed them; not
-without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled
-into her new organdie, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet
-strings in an irreproachable bow, wrestled viciously with pins as she
-put on her collar, wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out
-the handkerchief, whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the
-present mission was to her feelings; and when she had squeezed her hands
-into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last touch of
-elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of countenance,
-saying meekly,--
-
-"I'm perfectly miserable; but if you consider me presentable, I die
-happy."
-
-"You are highly satisfactory; turn slowly round, and let me get a
-careful view." Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then
-fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously, "Yes, you'll
-do; your head is all I could ask, for that white bonnet _with_ the rose
-is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders, and carry your hands
-easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There's one thing you can do
-well, Jo, that is, wear a shawl--I can't; but it's very nice to see you,
-and I'm so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one; it's simple, but
-handsome, and those folds over the arm are really artistic. Is the point
-of my mantle in the middle, and have I looped my dress evenly? I like to
-show my boots, for my feet _are_ pretty, though my nose isn't."
-
-"You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever," said Jo, looking through
-her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the
-gold hair. "Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it up,
-please, ma'am?"
-
-"Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house; the sweeping style
-suits you best, and you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. You
-haven't half buttoned one cuff; do it at once. You'll never look
-finished if you are not careful about the little details, for they make
-up the pleasing whole."
-
-Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove, in doing up
-her cuff; but at last both were ready, and sailed away, looking as
-"pretty as picters," Hannah said, as she hung out of the upper window to
-watch them.
-
-"Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so
-I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't make any of your abrupt
-remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and
-quiet,--that's safe and ladylike; and you can easily do it for fifteen
-minutes," said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed
-the white parasol and been inspected by Meg, with a baby on each arm.
-
-"Let me see. 'Calm, cool, and quiet,'--yes, I think I can promise that.
-I've played the part of a prim young lady on the stage, and I'll try it
-off. My powers are great, as you shall see; so be easy in your mind, my
-child."
-
-Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word; for, during
-the first call, she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold
-correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snow-bank, and as
-silent as a sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chester alluded to her "charming
-novel," and the Misses Chester introduced parties, picnics, the opera,
-and the fashions; each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a
-demure "Yes" or "No," with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the
-word "Talk," tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with
-her foot. Jo sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment
-like Maud's face, "icily regular, splendidly null."
-
-"What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is!" was
-the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, as the door
-closed upon their guests. Jo laughed noiselessly all through the hall,
-but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions, and very
-naturally laid the blame upon Jo.
-
-"How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly
-dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock and
-stone. Try to be sociable at the Lambs', gossip as other girls do, and
-be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up.
-They move in the best society, are valuable persons for us to know, and
-I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there for anything."
-
-"I'll be agreeable; I'll gossip and giggle, and have horrors and
-raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I'll
-imitate what is called 'a charming girl;' I can do it, for I have May
-Chester as a model, and I'll improve upon her. See if the Lambs don't
-say, 'What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!'"
-
-Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakish there
-was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was a study when she saw
-her sister skim into the next drawing-room, kiss all the young ladies
-with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentlemen, and join in the
-chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder. Amy was taken possession
-of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to hear a long
-account of Lucretia's last attack, while three delightful young
-gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush in and
-rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed
-possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubly as the old
-lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to
-hear what was going on; for broken sentences filled her with alarm,
-round eyes and uplifted hands tormented her with curiosity, and frequent
-peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. One may imagine her
-suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort of conversation:--
-
-"She rides splendidly,--who taught her?"
-
-"No one; she used to practise mounting, holding the reins, and sitting
-straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she
-doesn't know what fear is, and the stable-man lets her have horses
-cheap, because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a
-passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails she can be a
-horse-breaker, and get her living so."
-
-At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the
-impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which
-was her especial aversion. But what could she do? for the old lady was
-in the middle of her story, and long before it was done Jo was off
-again, making more droll revelations, and committing still more fearful
-blunders.
-
-"Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone,
-and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so balky that
-you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for
-a pleasure party, wasn't it?"
-
-"Which did she choose?" asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who enjoyed
-the subject.
-
-"None of them; she heard of a young horse at the farmhouse over the
-river, and, though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try,
-because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really
-pathetic; there was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she took
-the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rowed it over
-the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn to the utter
-amazement of the old man!"
-
-            [Illustration: She took the saddle to the horse]
-
-"Did she ride the horse?"
-
-"Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her
-brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, and was the
-life of the party."
-
-"Well, I call that plucky!" and young Mr. Lamb turned an approving
-glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the
-girl look so red and uncomfortable.
-
-She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after, when a
-sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress. One of
-the young ladies asked Jo where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to
-the picnic; and stupid Jo, instead of mentioning the place where it was
-bought two years ago, must needs answer, with unnecessary frankness,
-"Oh, Amy painted it; you can't buy those soft shades, so we paint ours
-any color we like. It's a great comfort to have an artistic sister."
-
-"Isn't that an original idea?" cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun.
-
-"That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There's
-nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for
-Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest
-shade of sky-blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin,"
-added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments that
-exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her
-card-case at her.
-
-"We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much,"
-observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady,
-who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.
-
-Any mention of her "works" always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either
-grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a _brusque_
-remark, as now. "Sorry you could find nothing better to read. I write
-that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you
-going to New York this winter?"
-
-As Miss Lamb had "enjoyed" the story, this speech was not exactly
-grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw her mistake;
-but, fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was
-for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an
-abruptness that left three people with half-finished sentences in their
-mouths.
-
-"Amy, we _must_ go. _Good_-by, dear; _do_ come and see us; we are
-_pining_ for a visit. I don't dare to ask _you_, Mr. Lamb; but if you
-_should_ come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away."
-
-Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester's gushing style
-that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong
-desire to laugh and cry at the same time.
-
-"Didn't I do that well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air, as they walked
-away.
-
-"Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crushing reply. "What
-possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and the hats and
-boots, and all the rest of it?"
-
-"Why, it's funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor, so it's no
-use pretending that we have grooms, buy three or four hats a season, and
-have things as easy and fine as they do."
-
-"You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts, and expose our
-poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven't a bit of proper
-pride, and never will learn when to hold your tongue and when to speak,"
-said Amy despairingly.
-
-Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with the
-stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors.
-
-"How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached the third
-mansion.
-
-"Just as you please; I wash my hands of you," was Amy's short answer.
-
-"Then I'll enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we'll have a
-comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance
-has a bad effect upon my constitution," returned Jo gruffly, being
-disturbed by her failures to suit.
-
-An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children
-speedily soothed her ruffled feelings; and, leaving Amy to entertain the
-hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be calling likewise, Jo devoted
-herself to the young folks, and found the change refreshing. She
-listened to college stories with deep interest, caressed pointers and
-poodles without a murmur, agreed heartily that "Tom Brown was a brick,"
-regardless of the improper form of praise; and when one lad proposed a
-visit to his turtle-tank, she went with an alacrity which caused mamma
-to smile upon her, as that motherly lady settled the cap which was left
-in a ruinous condition by filial hugs, bear-like but affectionate, and
-dearer to her than the most faultless _coiffure_ from the hands of an
-inspired Frenchwoman.
-
-Leaving her sister to her own devices, Amy proceeded to enjoy herself to
-her heart's content. Mr. Tudor's uncle had married an English lady who
-was third cousin to a living lord, and Amy regarded the whole family
-with great respect; for, in spite of her American birth and breeding,
-she possessed that reverence for titles which haunts the best of
-us,--that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set
-the most democratic nation under the sun in a ferment at the coming of a
-royal yellow-haired laddie, some years ago, and which still has
-something to do with the love the young country bears the old, like that
-of a big son for an imperious little mother, who held him while she
-could, and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled. But
-even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the
-British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time; and when the
-proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from
-this aristocratic society, and looked about for Jo, fervently hoping
-that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which
-should bring disgrace upon the name of March.
-
-                [Illustration: It might have been worse]
-
-It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad; for Jo sat on the
-grass, with an encampment of boys about her, and a dirty-footed dog
-reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress, as she related
-one of Laurie's pranks to her admiring audience. One small child was
-poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol, a second was eating
-gingerbread over Jo's best bonnet, and a third playing ball with her
-gloves. But all were enjoying themselves; and when Jo collected her
-damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her, begging her to come
-again, "it was such fun to hear about Laurie's larks."
-
-"Capital boys, aren't they? I feel quite young and brisk again after
-that," said Jo, strolling along with her hands behind her, partly from
-habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol.
-
-"Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor?" asked Amy, wisely refraining from
-any comment upon Jo's dilapidated appearance.
-
-"Don't like him; he puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worries his father,
-and doesn't speak respectfully of his mother. Laurie says he is fast,
-and _I_ don't consider him a desirable acquaintance; so I let him
-alone."
-
-"You might treat him civilly, at least. You gave him a cool nod; and
-just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way to Tommy Chamberlain,
-whose father keeps a grocery store. If you had just reversed the nod and
-the bow, it would have been right," said Amy reprovingly.
-
-"No, it wouldn't," returned perverse Jo; "I neither like, respect, nor
-admire Tudor, though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece _was_
-third cousin to a lord. Tommy is poor and bashful and good and very
-clever; I think well of him, and like to show that I do, for he _is_ a
-gentleman in spite of the brown-paper parcels."
-
-"It's no use trying to argue with you," began Amy.
-
-"Not the least, my dear," interrupted Jo; "so let us look amiable, and
-drop a card here, as the Kings are evidently out, for which I'm deeply
-grateful."
-
-The family card-case having done its duty, the girls walked on, and Jo
-uttered another thanksgiving on reaching the fifth house, and being told
-that the young ladies were engaged.
-
-"Now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March to-day. We can run down
-there any time, and it's really a pity to trail through the dust in our
-best bibs and tuckers, when we are tired and cross."
-
-"Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt likes to have us pay her the
-compliment of coming in style, and making a formal call; it's a little
-thing to do, but it gives her pleasure, and I don't believe it will hurt
-your things half so much as letting dirty dogs and clumping boys spoil
-them. Stoop down, and let me take the crumbs off of your bonnet."
-
-"What a good girl you are, Amy!" said Jo, with a repentant glance from
-her own damaged costume to that of her sister, which was fresh and
-spotless still. "I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to
-please people as it is for you. I think of them, but it takes too much
-time to do them; so I wait for a chance to confer a great favor, and let
-the small ones slip; but they tell best in the end, I fancy."
-
-Amy smiled, and was mollified at once, saying with a maternal air,--
-
-"Women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones; for they
-have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive. If you'd
-remember that, and practise it, you'd be better liked than I am, because
-there is more of you."
-
-"I'm a crotchety old thing, and always shall be, but I'm willing to own
-that you are right; only it's easier for me to risk my life for a person
-than to be pleasant to him when I don't feel like it. It's a great
-misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, isn't it?"
-
-"It's a greater not to be able to hide them. I don't mind saying that I
-don't approve of Tudor any more than you do; but I'm not called upon to
-tell him so; neither are you, and there is no use in making yourself
-disagreeable because he is."
-
-"But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove of young men; and
-how can they do it except by their manners? Preaching does not do any
-good, as I know to my sorrow, since I've had Teddy to manage; but there
-are many little ways in which I can influence him without a word, and I
-say we _ought_ to do it to others if we can."
-
-"Teddy is a remarkable boy, and can't be taken as a sample of other
-boys," said Amy, in a tone of solemn conviction, which would have
-convulsed the "remarkable boy," if he had heard it. "If we were belles,
-or women of wealth and position, we might do something, perhaps; but for
-us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don't approve of
-them, and smile upon another set because we do, wouldn't have a particle
-of effect, and we should only be considered odd and puritanical."
-
-"So we are to countenance things and people which we detest, merely
-because we are not belles and millionaires, are we? That's a nice sort
-of morality."
-
-"I can't argue about it, I only know that it's the way of the world; and
-people who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their
-pains. I don't like reformers, and I hope you will never try to be one."
-
-"I do like them, and I shall be one if I can; for in spite of the
-laughing, the world would never get on without them. We can't agree
-about that, for you belong to the old set, and I to the new: you will
-get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it. I should
-rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think."
-
-"Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry aunt with your new ideas."
-
-"I'll try not to, but I'm always possessed to burst out with some
-particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment before her; it's my
-doom, and I can't help it."
-
-They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed in some very
-interesting subject; but they dropped it as the girls came in, with a
-conscious look which betrayed that they had been talking about their
-nieces. Jo was not in a good humor, and the perverse fit returned; but
-Amy, who had virtuously done her duty, kept her temper, and pleased
-everybody, was in a most angelic frame of mind. This amiable spirit was
-felt at once, and both the aunts "my deared" her affectionately, looking
-what they afterwards said emphatically,--"That child improves every
-day."
-
-"Are you going to help about the fair, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy
-sat down beside her with the confiding air elderly people like so well
-in the young.
-
-"Yes, aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a
-table, as I have nothing but my time to give."
-
-"I'm not," put in Jo decidedly. "I hate to be patronized, and the
-Chesters think it's a great favor to allow us to help with their highly
-connected fair. I wonder you consented, Amy: they only want you to
-work."
-
-"I am willing to work: it's for the freedmen as well as the Chesters,
-and I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun.
-Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant."
-
-"Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear; it's a
-pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts: some do not, and
-that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo,
-who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression.
-
-                [Illustration: The call at Aunt March's]
-
-If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance
-for one of them, she would have turned dovelike in a minute; but,
-unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts, and cannot see what
-goes on in the minds of our friends; better for us that we cannot as a
-general thing, but now and then it would be such a comfort, such a
-saving of time and temper. By her next speech, Jo deprived herself of
-several years of pleasure, and received a timely lesson in the art of
-holding her tongue.
-
-"I don't like favors; they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I'd
-rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent."
-
-"Ahem!" coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March.
-
-"I told you so," said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol.
-
-Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose in the
-air, and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting.
-
-"Do you speak French, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, laying her hand on
-Amy's.
-
-"Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk to me as often
-as I like," replied Amy, with a grateful look, which caused the old lady
-to smile affably.
-
-"How are you about languages?" asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo.
-
-"Don't know a word; I'm very stupid about studying anything; can't bear
-French, it's such a slippery, silly sort of language," was the _brusque_
-reply.
-
-Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy, "You
-are quite strong and well, now, dear, I believe? Eyes don't trouble you
-any more, do they?"
-
-"Not at all, thank you, ma'am. I'm very well, and mean to do great
-things next winter, so that I may be ready for Rome, whenever that
-joyful time arrives."
-
-"Good girl! You deserve to go, and I'm sure you will some day," said
-Aunt March, with an approving pat on the head, as Amy picked up her ball
-for her.
-
-        "Cross-patch, draw the latch,
-         Sit by the fire and spin,"
-
-squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of her chair to
-peep into Jo's face, with such a comical air of impertinent inquiry that
-it was impossible to help laughing.
-
-"Most observing bird," said the old lady.
-
-"Come and take a walk, my dear?" cried Polly, hopping toward the
-china-closet, with a look suggestive of lump-sugar.
-
-"Thank you, I will. Come, Amy;" and Jo brought the visit to an end,
-feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a bad effect upon
-her constitution. She shook hands in a gentlemanly manner, but Amy
-kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed, leaving behind them the
-impression of shadow and sunshine; which impression caused Aunt March to
-say, as they vanished,--
-
-"You'd better do it, Mary; I'll supply the money," and Aunt Carrol to
-reply decidedly, "I certainly will, if her father and mother consent."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-              [Illustration: You shall have another table]
-
-                                  XXX.
-
-                             CONSEQUENCES.
-
-
-Mrs. Chester's fair was so very elegant and select that it was
-considered a great honor by the young ladies of the neighborhood to be
-invited to take a table, and every one was much interested in the
-matter. Amy was asked, but Jo was not, which was fortunate for all
-parties, as her elbows were decidedly akimbo at this period of her life,
-and it took a good many hard knocks to teach her how to get on easily.
-The "haughty, uninteresting creature" was let severely alone; but Amy's
-talent and taste were duly complimented by the offer of the art-table,
-and she exerted herself to prepare and secure appropriate and valuable
-contributions to it.
-
-Everything went on smoothly till the day before the fair opened; then
-there occurred one of the little skirmishes which it is almost
-impossible to avoid, when some five and twenty women, old and young,
-with all their private piques and prejudices, try to work together.
-
-May Chester was rather jealous of Amy because the latter was a greater
-favorite than herself, and, just at this time, several trifling
-circumstances occurred to increase the feeling. Amy's dainty pen-and-ink
-work entirely eclipsed May's painted vases,--that was one thorn; then
-the all-conquering Tudor had danced four times with Amy, at a late
-party, and only once with May,--that was thorn number two; but the chief
-grievance that rankled in her soul, and gave her an excuse for her
-unfriendly conduct, was a rumor which some obliging gossip had whispered
-to her, that the March girls had made fun of her at the Lambs'. All the
-blame of this should have fallen upon Jo, for her naughty imitation had
-been too lifelike to escape detection, and the frolicsome Lambs had
-permitted the joke to escape. No hint of this had reached the culprits,
-however, and Amy's dismay can be imagined, when, the very evening before
-the fair, as she was putting the last touches to her pretty table, Mrs.
-Chester, who, of course, resented the supposed ridicule of her daughter,
-said, in a bland tone, but with a cold look,--
-
-"I find, dear, that there is some feeling among the young ladies about
-my giving this table to any one but my girls. As this is the most
-prominent, and some say the most attractive table of all, and they are
-the chief getters-up of the fair, it is thought best for them to take
-this place. I'm sorry, but I know you are too sincerely interested in
-the cause to mind a little personal disappointment, and you shall have
-another table if you like."
-
-Mrs. Chester had fancied beforehand that it would be easy to deliver
-this little speech; but when the time came, she found it rather
-difficult to utter it naturally, with Amy's unsuspicious eyes looking
-straight at her, full of surprise and trouble.
-
-Amy felt that there was something behind this, but could not guess what,
-and said quietly, feeling hurt, and showing that she did,--
-
-"Perhaps you had rather I took no table at all?"
-
-"Now, my dear, don't have any ill feeling, I beg; it's merely a matter
-of expediency, you see; my girls will naturally take the lead, and this
-table is considered their proper place. _I_ think it very appropriate
-to you, and feel very grateful for your efforts to make it so pretty;
-but we must give up our private wishes, of course, and I will see that
-you have a good place elsewhere. Wouldn't you like the flower-table? The
-little girls undertook it, but they are discouraged. You could make a
-charming thing of it, and the flower-table is always attractive, you
-know."
-
-"Especially to gentlemen," added May, with a look which enlightened Amy
-as to one cause of her sudden fall from favor. She colored angrily, but
-took no other notice of that girlish sarcasm, and answered, with
-unexpected amiability,--
-
-"It shall be as you please, Mrs. Chester. I'll give up my place here at
-once, and attend to the flowers, if you like."
-
-"You can put your own things on your own table, if you prefer," began
-May, feeling a little conscience-stricken, as she looked at the pretty
-racks, the painted shells, and quaint illuminations Amy had so carefully
-made and so gracefully arranged. She meant it kindly, but Amy mistook
-her meaning, and said quickly,--
-
-"Oh, certainly, if they are in your way;" and sweeping her contributions
-into her apron, pell-mell, she walked off, feeling that herself and her
-works of art had been insulted past forgiveness.
-
-"Now she's mad. Oh, dear, I wish I hadn't asked you to speak, mamma,"
-said May, looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table.
-
-"Girls' quarrels are soon over," returned her mother, feeling a trifle
-ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might.
-
-The little girls hailed Amy and her treasures with delight, which
-cordial reception somewhat soothed her perturbed spirit, and she fell to
-work, determined to succeed florally, if she could not artistically. But
-everything seemed against her: it was late, and she was tired; every one
-was too busy with their own affairs to help her; and the little girls
-were only hindrances, for the dears fussed and chattered like so many
-magpies, making a great deal of confusion in their artless efforts to
-preserve the most perfect order. The evergreen arch wouldn't stay firm
-after she got it up, but wiggled and threatened to tumble down on her
-head when the hanging baskets were filled; her best tile got a splash of
-water, which left a sepia tear on the Cupid's cheek; she bruised her
-hands with hammering, and got cold working in a draught, which last
-affliction filled her with apprehensions for the morrow. Any girl-reader
-who has suffered like afflictions will sympathize with poor Amy, and
-wish her well through with her task.
-
-There was great indignation at home when she told her story that
-evening. Her mother said it was a shame, but told her she had done
-right; Beth declared she wouldn't go to the fair at all; and Jo demanded
-why she didn't take all her pretty things and leave those mean people to
-get on without her.
-
-"Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things,
-and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it.
-They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won't
-they, Marmee?"
-
-"That's the right spirit, my dear; a kiss for a blow is always best,
-though it's not very easy to give it sometimes," said her mother, with
-the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and
-practising.
-
-In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate,
-Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day, bent on conquering her
-enemy by kindness. She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that came
-to her unexpectedly, but most opportunely. As she arranged her table
-that morning, while the little girls were in an ante-room filling the
-baskets, she took up her pet production,--a little book, the antique
-cover of which her father had found among his treasures, and in which,
-on leaves of vellum, she had beautifully illuminated different texts. As
-she turned the pages, rich in dainty devices, with very pardonable
-pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think. Framed
-in a brilliant scroll-work of scarlet, blue, and gold, with little
-spirits of good-will helping one another up and down among the thorns
-and flowers, were the words, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
-
-"I ought, but I don't," thought Amy, as her eye went from the bright
-page to May's discontented face behind the big vases, that could not
-hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a minute,
-turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet rebuke for
-all heart-burnings and uncharitableness of spirit. Many wise and true
-sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street,
-school, office, or home; even a fair-table may become a pulpit, if it
-can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season.
-Amy's conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and
-there; and she did what many of us do not always do,--took the sermon to
-heart, and straightway put it in practice.
-
-A group of girls were standing about May's table, admiring the pretty
-things, and talking over the change of saleswomen. They dropped their
-voices, but Amy knew they were speaking of her, hearing one side of the
-story, and judging accordingly. It was not pleasant, but a better spirit
-had come over her, and presently a chance offered for proving it. She
-heard May say sorrowfully,--
-
-"It's too bad, for there is no time to make other things, and I don't
-want to fill up with odds and ends. The table was just complete then:
-now it's spoilt."
-
-"I dare say she'd put them back if you asked her," suggested some one.
-
-"How could I after all the fuss?" began May, but she did not finish, for
-Amy's voice came across the hall, saying pleasantly,--
-
-"You may have them, and welcome, without asking, if you want them. I was
-just thinking I'd offer to put them back, for they belong to your table
-rather than mine. Here they are; please take them, and forgive me if I
-was hasty in carrying them away last night."
-
-As she spoke, Amy returned her contribution, with a nod and a smile, and
-hurried away again, feeling that it was easier to do a friendly thing
-than it was to stay and be thanked for it.
-
-"Now, I call that lovely of her, don't you?" cried one girl.
-
-May's answer was inaudible; but another young lady, whose temper was
-evidently a little soured by making lemonade, added, with a disagreeable
-laugh, "Very lovely; for she knew she wouldn't sell them at her own
-table."
-
-Now, that was hard; when we make little sacrifices we like to have them
-appreciated, at least; and for a minute Amy was sorry she had done it,
-feeling that virtue was not always its own reward. But it is,--as she
-presently discovered; for her spirits began to rise, and her table to
-blossom under her skilful hands; the girls were very kind, and that one
-little act seemed to have cleared the atmosphere amazingly.
-
-It was a very long day, and a hard one to Amy, as she sat behind her
-table, often quite alone, for the little girls deserted very soon: few
-cared to buy flowers in summer, and her bouquets began to droop long
-before night.
-
-The art-table _was_ the most attractive in the room; there was a crowd
-about it all day long, and the tenders were constantly flying to and fro
-with important faces and rattling money-boxes. Amy often looked
-wistfully across, longing to be there, where she felt at home and happy,
-instead of in a corner with nothing to do. It might seem no hardship to
-some of us; but to a pretty, blithe young girl, it was not only tedious,
-but very trying; and the thought of being found there in the evening by
-her family, and Laurie and his friends, made it a real martyrdom.
-
-She did not go home till night, and then she looked so pale and quiet
-that they knew the day had been a hard one, though she made no
-complaint, and did not even tell what she had done. Her mother gave her
-an extra cordial cup of tea, Beth helped her dress, and made a charming
-little wreath for her hair, while Jo astonished her family by getting
-herself up with unusual care, and hinting darkly that the tables were
-about to be turned.
-
-"Don't do anything rude, pray, Jo. I won't have any fuss made, so let it
-all pass, and behave yourself," begged Amy, as she departed early,
-hoping to find a reinforcement of flowers to refresh her poor little
-table.
-
-"I merely intend to make myself entrancingly agreeable to every one I
-know, and to keep them in your corner as long as possible. Teddy and his
-boys will lend a hand, and we'll have a good time yet," returned Jo,
-leaning over the gate to watch for Laurie. Presently the familiar tramp
-was heard in the dusk, and she ran out to meet him.
-
-"Is that my boy?"
-
-"As sure as this is my girl!" and Laurie tucked her hand under his arm,
-with the air of a man whose every wish was gratified.
-
-"O Teddy, such doings!" and Jo told Amy's wrongs with sisterly zeal.
-
-"A flock of our fellows are going to drive over by and by, and I'll be
-hanged if I don't make them buy every flower she's got, and camp down
-before her table afterward," said Laurie, espousing her cause with
-warmth.
-
-"The flowers are not at all nice, Amy says, and the fresh ones may not
-arrive in time. I don't wish to be unjust or suspicious, but I shouldn't
-wonder if they never came at all. When people do one mean thing they are
-very likely to do another," observed Jo, in a disgusted tone.
-
-"Didn't Hayes give you the best out of our gardens? I told him to."
-
-"I didn't know that; he forgot, I suppose; and, as your grandpa was
-poorly, I didn't like to worry him by asking, though I did want some."
-
-"Now, Jo, how could you think there was any need of asking! They are
-just as much yours as mine. Don't we always go halves in everything?"
-began Laurie, in the tone that always made Jo turn thorny.
-
-"Gracious, I hope not! half of some of your things wouldn't suit me at
-all. But we mustn't stand philandering here; I've got to help Amy, so
-you go and make yourself splendid; and if you'll be so very kind as to
-let Hayes take a few nice flowers up to the Hall, I'll bless you
-forever."
-
-"Couldn't you do it now?" asked Laurie, so suggestively that Jo shut the
-gate in his face with inhospitable haste, and called through the bars,
-"Go away, Teddy; I'm busy."
-
-Thanks to the conspirators, the tables _were_ turned that night; for
-Hayes sent up a wilderness of flowers, with a lovely basket, arranged in
-his best manner, for a centre-piece; then the March family turned out
-_en masse_, and Jo exerted herself to some purpose, for people not only
-came, but stayed, laughing at her nonsense, admiring Amy's taste, and
-apparently enjoying themselves very much. Laurie and his friends
-gallantly threw themselves into the breach, bought up the bouquets,
-encamped before the table, and made that corner the liveliest spot in
-the room. Amy was in her element now, and, out of gratitude, if nothing
-more, was as sprightly and gracious as possible,--coming to the
-conclusion, about that time, that virtue _was_ its own reward, after
-all.
-
-                 [Illustration: Bought up the bouquets]
-
-Jo behaved herself with exemplary propriety; and when Amy was happily
-surrounded by her guard of honor, Jo circulated about the hall, picking
-up various bits of gossip, which enlightened her upon the subject of the
-Chester change of base. She reproached herself for her share of the
-ill-feeling, and resolved to exonerate Amy as soon as possible; she also
-discovered what Amy had done about the things in the morning, and
-considered her a model of magnanimity. As she passed the art-table, she
-glanced over it for her sister's things, but saw no signs of them.
-"Tucked away out of sight, I dare say," thought Jo, who could forgive
-her own wrongs, but hotly resented any insult offered to her family.
-
-"Good evening, Miss Jo. How does Amy get on?" asked May, with a
-conciliatory air, for she wanted to show that she also could be
-generous.
-
-"She has sold everything she had that was worth selling, and now she is
-enjoying herself. The flower-table is always attractive, you know,
-'especially to gentlemen.'"
-
-Jo _couldn't_ resist giving that little slap, but May took it so meekly
-she regretted it a minute after, and fell to praising the great vases,
-which still remained unsold.
-
-"Is Amy's illumination anywhere about? I took a fancy to buy that for
-father," said Jo, very anxious to learn the fate of her sister's work.
-
-"Everything of Amy's sold long ago; I took care that the right people
-saw them, and they made a nice little sum of money for us," returned
-May, who had overcome sundry small temptations, as well as Amy, that
-day.
-
-Much gratified, Jo rushed back to tell the good news; and Amy looked
-both touched and surprised by the report of May's words and manner.
-
-"Now, gentlemen, I want you to go and do your duty by the other tables
-as generously as you have by mine--especially the art-table," she said,
-ordering out "Teddy's Own," as the girls called the college friends.
-
-"'Charge, Chester, charge!' is the motto for that table; but do your
-duty like men, and you'll get your money's worth of _art_ in every sense
-of the word," said the irrepressible Jo, as the devoted phalanx prepared
-to take the field.
-
-"To hear is to obey, but March is fairer far than May," said little
-Parker, making a frantic effort to be both witty and tender, and getting
-promptly quenched by Laurie, who said, "Very well, my son, for a small
-boy!" and walked him off, with a paternal pat on the head.
-
-"Buy the vases," whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of coals of
-fire on her enemy's head.
-
-To May's great delight, Mr. Laurence not only bought the vases, but
-pervaded the hall with one under each arm. The other gentlemen
-speculated with equal rashness in all sorts of frail trifles, and
-wandered helplessly about afterward, burdened with wax flowers, painted
-fans, filigree portfolios, and other useful and appropriate purchases.
-
-Aunt Carrol was there, heard the story, looked pleased, and said
-something to Mrs. March in a corner, which made the latter lady beam
-with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and
-anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till
-several days later.
-
-The fair was pronounced a success; and when May bade Amy good night, she
-did not "gush" as usual, but gave her an affectionate kiss, and a look
-which said, "Forgive and forget." That satisfied Amy; and when she got
-home she found the vases paraded on the parlor chimney-piece, with a
-great bouquet in each. "The reward of merit for a magnanimous March," as
-Laurie announced with a flourish.
-
-"You've a deal more principle and generosity and nobleness of character
-than I ever gave you credit for, Amy. You've behaved sweetly, and I
-respect you with all my heart," said Jo warmly, as they brushed their
-hair together late that night.
-
-"Yes, we all do, and love her for being so ready to forgive. It must
-have been dreadfully hard, after working so long, and setting your heart
-on selling your own pretty things. I don't believe I could have done it
-as kindly as you did," added Beth from her pillow.
-
-"Why, girls, you needn't praise me so; I only did as I'd be done by. You
-laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true
-gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know
-how. I can't explain exactly, but I want to be above the little
-meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women. I'm far from
-it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what mother is."
-
-Amy spoke earnestly, and Jo said, with a cordial hug,--
-
-"I understand now what you mean, and I'll never laugh at you again. You
-are getting on faster than you think, and I'll take lessons of you in
-true politeness, for you've learned the secret, I believe. Try away,
-deary; you'll get your reward some day, and no one will be more
-delighted than I shall."
-
-A week later Amy did get her reward, and poor Jo found it hard to be
-delighted. A letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March's face was
-illuminated to such a degree, when she read it, that Jo and Beth, who
-were with her, demanded what the glad tidings were.
-
-"Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants--"
-
-"Me to go with her!" burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an
-uncontrollable rapture.
-
-"No, dear, not you; it's Amy."
-
-"O mother! she's too young; it's my turn first. I've wanted it so
-long--it would do me so much good, and be so altogether splendid--I
-_must_ go."
-
-"I'm afraid it's impossible, Jo. Aunt says Amy, decidedly, and it is not
-for us to dictate when she offers such a favor."
-
-"It's always so. Amy has all the fun and I have all the work. It isn't
-fair, oh, it isn't fair!" cried Jo passionately.
-
-"I'm afraid it is partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the
-other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit;
-and here she writes, as if quoting something you had said,--'I planned
-at first to ask Jo; but as "favors burden her," and she "hates French,"
-I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a
-good companion for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may
-give her.'"
-
-"Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue! why can't I learn to keep it
-quiet?" groaned Jo, remembering words which had been her undoing. When
-she had heard the explanation of the quoted phrases, Mrs. March said
-sorrowfully,--
-
-"I wish you could have gone, but there is no hope of it this time; so
-try to bear it cheerfully, and don't sadden Amy's pleasure by reproaches
-or regrets."
-
-"I'll try," said Jo, winking hard, as she knelt down to pick up the
-basket she had joyfully upset. "I'll take a leaf out of her book, and
-try not only to seem glad, but to be so, and not grudge her one minute
-of happiness; but it won't be easy, for it is a dreadful
-disappointment;" and poor Jo bedewed the little fat pincushion she held
-with several very bitter tears.
-
-"Jo, dear, I'm very selfish, but I couldn't spare you, and I'm glad you
-are not going quite yet," whispered Beth, embracing her, basket and all,
-with such a clinging touch and loving face, that Jo felt comforted in
-spite of the sharp regret that made her want to box her own ears, and
-humbly beg Aunt Carrol to burden her with this favor, and see how
-gratefully she would bear it.
-
-By the time Amy came in, Jo was able to take her part in the family
-jubilation; not quite as heartily as usual, perhaps, but without
-repinings at Amy's good fortune. The young lady herself received the
-news as tidings of great joy, went about in a solemn sort of rapture,
-and began to sort her colors and pack her pencils that evening, leaving
-such trifles as clothes, money, and passports to those less absorbed in
-visions of art than herself.
-
-"It isn't a mere pleasure trip to me, girls," she said impressively, as
-she scraped her best palette. "It will decide my career; for if I have
-any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove
-it."
-
-"Suppose you haven't?" said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new
-collars which were to be handed over to Amy.
-
-"Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living," replied the
-aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure; but she made a wry face
-at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if bent on
-vigorous measures before she gave up her hopes.
-
-"No, you won't; you hate hard work, and you'll marry some rich man, and
-come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days," said Jo.
-
-"Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don't believe that one
-will. I'm sure I wish it would, for if I can't be an artist myself, I
-should like to be able to help those who are," said Amy, smiling, as if
-the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor
-drawing-teacher.
-
-"Hum!" said Jo, with a sigh; "if you wish it you'll have it, for your
-wishes are always granted--mine never."
-
-"Would you like to go?" asked Amy, thoughtfully patting her nose with
-her knife.
-
-"Rather!"
-
-"Well, in a year or two I'll send for you, and we'll dig in the Forum
-for relics, and carry out all the plans we've made so many times."
-
-"Thank you; I'll remind you of your promise when that joyful day comes,
-if it ever does," returned Jo, accepting the vague but magnificent offer
-as gratefully as she could.
-
-There was not much time for preparation, and the house was in a ferment
-till Amy was off. Jo bore up very well till the last flutter of blue
-ribbon vanished, when she retired to her refuge, the garret, and cried
-till she couldn't cry any more. Amy likewise bore up stoutly till the
-steamer sailed; then, just as the gangway was about to be withdrawn, it
-suddenly came over her that a whole ocean was soon to roll between her
-and those who loved her best, and she clung to Laurie, the last
-lingerer, saying with a sob,--
-
-"Oh, take care of them for me; and if anything should happen--"
-
-"I will, dear, I will; and if anything happens, I'll come and comfort
-you," whispered Laurie, little dreaming that he would be called upon to
-keep his word.
-
-So Amy sailed away to find the old world, which is always new and
-beautiful to young eyes, while her father and friend watched her from
-the shore, fervently hoping that none but gentle fortunes would befall
-the happy-hearted girl, who waved her hand to them till they could see
-nothing but the summer sunshine dazzling on the sea.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-             [Illustration: Flo and I ordered a hansom-cab]
-
-                                 XXXI.
-
-                       OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT.
-
-
-                                                    "LONDON.
-    "DEAREST PEOPLE,--
-
-    "Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel,
-    Piccadilly. It's not a fashionable place, but uncle stopped here
-    years ago, and won't go anywhere else; however, we don't mean to
-    stay long, so it's no great matter. Oh, I can't begin to tell
-    you how I enjoy it all! I never can, so I'll only give you bits
-    out of my note-book, for I've done nothing but sketch and
-    scribble since I started.
-
-    "I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but
-    after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day,
-    with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Every one was very
-    kind to me, especially the officers. Don't laugh, Jo; gentlemen
-    really are very necessary aboard ship, to hold on to, or to wait
-    upon one; and as they have nothing to do, it's a mercy to make
-    them useful, otherwise they would smoke themselves to death, I'm
-    afraid.
-
-        [Illustration: "Every one was very kind, especially the
-                         officers."--Page 378.]
-
-    "Aunt and Flo were poorly all the way, and liked to be let
-    alone, so when I had done what I could for them, I went and
-    enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid
-    air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast
-    horse, when we went rushing on so grandly. I wish Beth could
-    have come, it would have done her so much good; as for Jo, she
-    would have gone up and sat on the main-top jib, or whatever the
-    high thing is called, made friends with the engineers, and
-    tooted on the captain's speaking-trumpet, she'd have been in
-    such a state of rapture.
-
-    "It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and
-    found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here
-    and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen's
-    country-seats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It
-    was early in the morning, but I didn't regret getting up to see
-    it, for the bay was full of little boats, the shore _so_
-    picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I never shall forget it.
-
-    "At Queenstown one of my new acquaintances left us,--Mr.
-    Lennox,--and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney,
-    he sighed and sung, with a look at me,--
-
-        'Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney?
-         She lives on the banks of Killarney;
-         From the glance of her eye,
-         Shun danger and fly,
-         For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.'
-
-    Wasn't that nonsensical?
-
-    "We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It's a dirty, noisy
-    place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a
-    pair of dog-skin gloves, some ugly, thick shoes, and an
-    umbrella, and got shaved _à la_ mutton-chop, the first thing.
-    Then he flattered himself that he looked like a true Briton; but
-    the first time he had the mud cleaned off his shoes, the little
-    bootblack knew that an American stood in them, and said, with a
-    grin, 'There yer har, sir. I've give 'em the latest Yankee
-    shine.' It amused uncle immensely. Oh, I _must_ tell you what
-    that absurd Lennox did! He got his friend Ward, who came on with
-    us, to order a bouquet for me, and the first thing I saw in my
-    room was a lovely one, with 'Robert Lennox's compliments,' on
-    the card. Wasn't that fun, girls? I like travelling.
-
-    "I never _shall_ get to London if I don't hurry. The trip was
-    like riding through a long picture-gallery, full of lovely
-    landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight; with thatched roofs,
-    ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy
-    children at the doors. The very cattle looked more tranquil than
-    ours, as they stood knee-deep in clover, and the hens had a
-    contented cluck, as if they never got nervous, like Yankee
-    biddies. Such perfect color I never saw,--the grass so green,
-    sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark,--I was in a rapture
-    all the way. So was Flo; and we kept bouncing from one side to
-    the other, trying to see everything while we were whisking along
-    at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Aunt was tired and went to
-    sleep, but uncle read his guide-book, and wouldn't be astonished
-    at anything. This is the way we went on: Amy, flying up,--'Oh,
-    that must be Kenilworth, that gray place among the trees!' Flo,
-    darting to my window,--'How sweet! We must go there some time,
-    won't we, papa?' Uncle, calmly admiring his boots,--'No, my
-    dear, not unless you want beer; that's a brewery.'
-
-    "A pause,--then Flo cried out, 'Bless me, there's a gallows and
-    a man going up.' 'Where, where?' shrieks Amy, staring out at two
-    tall posts with a cross-beam and some dangling chains. 'A
-    colliery,' remarks uncle, with a twinkle of the eye. 'Here's a
-    lovely flock of lambs all lying down,' says Amy. 'See, papa,
-    aren't they pretty!' added Flo sentimentally. 'Geese, young
-    ladies,' returns uncle, in a tone that keeps us quiet till Flo
-    settles down to enjoy 'The Flirtations of Capt. Cavendish,' and
-    I have the scenery all to myself.
-
-    "Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was
-    nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked,
-    and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some
-    new things, for I came off in such a hurry I wasn't half ready.
-    A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the
-    loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is
-    perfectly splendid; things seem so cheap--nice ribbons only
-    sixpence a yard. I laid in a stock, but shall get my gloves in
-    Paris. Doesn't that sound sort of elegant and rich?
-
-    "Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while aunt
-    and uncle were out, and went for a drive, though we learned
-    afterward that it wasn't the thing for young ladies to ride in
-    them alone. It was so droll! for when we were shut in by the
-    wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and
-    told me to stop him. But he was up outside behind somewhere, and
-    I couldn't get at him. He didn't hear me call, nor see me flap
-    my parasol in front, and there we were, quite helpless, rattling
-    away, and whirling around corners at a break-neck pace. At last,
-    in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it
-    open, a red eye appeared, and a beery voice said,--
-
-    "'Now then, mum?'
-
-    "I gave my order as soberly as I could, and slamming down the
-    door, with an 'Aye, aye, mum,' the man made his horse walk, as
-    if going to a funeral. I poked again, and said, 'A little
-    faster;' then off he went, helter-skelter, as before, and we
-    resigned ourselves to our fate.
-
-    "To-day was fair and we went to Hyde Park, close by, for we are
-    more aristocratic than we look. The Duke of Devonshire lives
-    near. I often see his footmen lounging at the back gate; and the
-    Duke of Wellington's house is not far off. Such sights as I saw,
-    my dear! It was as good as Punch, for there were fat dowagers
-    rolling about in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous
-    Jeameses in silk stockings and velvet coats, up behind, and
-    powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest
-    children I ever saw; handsome girls, looking half asleep;
-    dandies, in queer English hats and lavender kids, lounging
-    about, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps
-    stuck on one side, looking so funny I longed to sketch them.
-
-    "Rotten Row means '_Route de Roi_,' or the king's way; but now
-    it's more like a riding-school than anything else. The horses
-    are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well; but
-    the women are stiff, and bounce, which isn't according to our
-    rules. I longed to show them a tearing American gallop, for they
-    trotted solemnly up and down, in their scant habits and high
-    hats, looking like the women in a toy Noah's Ark. Every one
-    rides,--old men, stout ladies, little children,--and the young
-    folks do a deal of flirting here; I saw a pair exchange
-    rosebuds, for it's the thing to wear one in the button-hole, and
-    I thought it rather a nice little idea.
-
-    "In the P.M. to Westminster Abbey; but don't expect me to
-    describe it, that's impossible--so I'll only say it was sublime!
-    This evening we are going to see Fechter, which will be an
-    appropriate end to the happiest day of my life.
-
-                                                          "MIDNIGHT.
-
-    "It's very late, but I can't let my letter go in the morning
-    without telling you what happened last evening. Who do you think
-    came in, as we were at tea? Laurie's English friends, Fred and
-    Frank Vaughn! I was _so_ surprised, for I shouldn't have known
-    them but for the cards. Both are tall fellows, with whiskers;
-    Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for
-    he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They had heard
-    from Laurie where we were to be, and came to ask us to their
-    house; but uncle won't go, so we shall return the call, and see
-    them as we can. They went to the theatre with us, and we did
-    have _such_ a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and
-    Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun as if we
-    had known each other all our days. Tell Beth Frank asked for
-    her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when
-    I spoke of Jo, and sent his 'respectful compliments to the big
-    hat.' Neither of them had forgotten Camp Laurence, or the fun we
-    had there. What ages ago it seems, doesn't it?
-
-    "Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I _must_
-    stop. I really feel like a dissipated London fine lady, writing
-    here so late, with my room full of pretty things, and my head a
-    jumble of parks, theatres, new gowns, and gallant creatures who
-    say 'Ah!' and twirl their blond mustaches with the true English
-    lordliness. I long to see you all, and in spite of my nonsense
-    am, as ever, your loving
-                                                               AMY."
-
-
-    "DEAR GIRLS,--                                           "PARIS.
-
-    "In my last I told you about our London visit,--how kind the
-    Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I
-    enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum
-    more than anything else,--for at Hampton I saw Raphael's
-    cartoons, and, at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner,
-    Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth, and the other great creatures. The
-    day in Richmond Park was charming, for we had a regular English
-    picnic, and I had more splendid oaks and groups of deer than I
-    could copy; also heard a nightingale, and saw larks go up. We
-    'did' London to our hearts' content, thanks to Fred and Frank,
-    and were sorry to go away; for, though English people are slow
-    to take you in, when they once make up their minds to do it they
-    cannot be outdone in hospitality, _I_ think. The Vaughns hope to
-    meet us in Rome next winter, and I shall be dreadfully
-    disappointed if they don't, for Grace and I are great friends,
-    and the boys very nice fellows,--especially Fred.
-
-    "Well, we were hardly settled here, when he turned up again,
-    saying he had come for a holiday, and was going to Switzerland.
-    Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she
-    couldn't say a word; and now we get on nicely, and are very glad
-    he came, for he speaks French like a native, and I don't know
-    what we should do without him. Uncle doesn't know ten words, and
-    insists on talking English very loud, as if that would make
-    people understand him. Aunt's pronunciation is old-fashioned,
-    and Flo and I, though we flattered ourselves that we knew a good
-    deal, find we don't, and are very grateful to have Fred do the
-    '_parley vooing_,' as uncle calls it.
-
-    "Such delightful times as we are having! sight-seeing from
-    morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the gay
-    _cafés_, and meeting with all sorts of droll adventures. Rainy
-    days I spend in the Louvre, revelling in pictures. Jo would turn
-    up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no
-    soul for art; but _I_ have, and I'm cultivating eye and taste as
-    fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better,
-    for I've seen her Napoleon's cocked hat and gray coat, his
-    baby's cradle and his old toothbrush; also Marie Antoinette's
-    little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne's sword, and
-    many other interesting things. I'll talk for hours about them
-    when I come, but haven't time to write.
-
-    "The Palais Royale is a heavenly place,--so full of _bijouterie_
-    and lovely things that I'm nearly distracted because I can't buy
-    them. Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn't allow
-    it. Then the Bois and the Champs Elysées are _très magnifique_.
-    I've seen the imperial family several times,--the emperor an
-    ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed
-    in bad taste, _I_ thought,--purple dress, green hat, and yellow
-    gloves. Little Nap. is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his
-    tutor, and kisses his hand to the people as he passes in his
-    four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets, and a
-    mounted guard before and behind.
-
-      [Illustration: I've seen the imperial family several times]
-
-    "We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely,
-    though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Père la
-    Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small
-    rooms, and, looking in, one sees a table, with images or
-    pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in
-    when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy.
-
-    "Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and, sitting in the
-    balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It is
-    so pleasant that we spend our evenings talking there, when too
-    tired with our day's work to go out. Fred is very entertaining,
-    and is altogether the most agreeable young man I ever
-    knew,--except Laurie, whose manners are more charming. I wish
-    Fred was dark, for I don't fancy light men; however, the Vaughns
-    are very rich, and come of an excellent family, so I won't find
-    fault with their yellow hair, as my own is yellower.
-
-    "Next week we are off to Germany and Switzerland; and, as we
-    shall travel fast, I shall only be able to give you hasty
-    letters. I keep my diary, and try to 'remember correctly and
-    describe clearly all that I see and admire,' as father advised.
-    It is good practice for me, and, with my sketch-book, will give
-    you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles.
-
-    "Adieu; I embrace you tenderly.                     VOTRE AMIE."
-
-
-    "MY DEAR MAMMA,--                                   "HEIDELBERG.
-
-    "Having a quiet hour before we leave for Berne, I'll try to tell
-    you what has happened, for some of it is very important, as you
-    will see.
-
-    "The sail up the Rhine was perfect, and I just sat and enjoyed
-    it with all my might. Get father's old guide-books, and read
-    about it; I haven't words beautiful enough to describe it. At
-    Coblentz we had a lovely time, for some students from Bonn, with
-    whom Fred got acquainted on the boat, gave us a serenade. It was
-    a moonlight night, and, about one o'clock, Flo and I were waked
-    by the most delicious music under our windows. We flew up, and
-    hid behind the curtains; but sly peeps showed us Fred and the
-    students singing away down below. It was the most romantic thing
-    I ever saw,--the river, the bridge of boats, the great fortress
-    opposite, moonlight everywhere, and music fit to melt a heart of
-    stone.
-
-    "When they were done we threw down some flowers, and saw them
-    scramble for them, kiss their hands to the invisible ladies, and
-    go laughing away,--to smoke and drink beer, I suppose. Next
-    morning Fred showed me one of the crumpled flowers in his
-    vest-pocket, and looked very sentimental. I laughed at him, and
-    said I didn't throw it, but Flo, which seemed to disgust him,
-    for he tossed it out of the window, and turned sensible again.
-    I'm afraid I'm going to have trouble with that boy, it begins to
-    look like it.
-
-    "The baths at Nassau were very gay, so was Baden-Baden, where
-    Fred lost some money, and I scolded him. He needs some one to
-    look after him when Frank is not with him. Kate said once she
-    hoped he'd marry soon, and I quite agree with her that it would
-    be well for him. Frankfort was delightful; I saw Goethe's house,
-    Schiller's statue, and Dannecker's famous 'Ariadne.' It was very
-    lovely, but I should have enjoyed it more if I had known the
-    story better. I didn't like to ask, as every one knew it, or
-    pretended they did. I wish Jo would tell me all about it; I
-    ought to have read more, for I find I don't know anything, and
-    it mortifies me.
-
-    "Now comes the serious part,--for it happened here, and Fred is
-    just gone. He has been so kind and jolly that we all got quite
-    fond of him; I never thought of anything but a travelling
-    friendship, till the serenade night. Since then I've begun to
-    feel that the moonlight walks, balcony talks, and daily
-    adventures were something more to him than fun. I haven't
-    flirted, mother, truly, but remembered what you said to me, and
-    have done my very best. I can't help it if people like me; I
-    don't try to make them, and it worries me if I don't care for
-    them, though Jo says I haven't got any heart. Now I know mother
-    will shake her head, and the girls say, 'Oh, the mercenary
-    little wretch!' but I've made up my mind, and, if Fred asks me,
-    I shall accept him, though I'm not madly in love. I like him,
-    and we get on comfortably together. He is handsome, young,
-    clever enough, and very rich,--ever so much richer than the
-    Laurences. I don't think his family would object, and I should
-    be very happy, for they are all kind, well-bred, generous
-    people, and they like me. Fred, as the eldest twin, will have
-    the estate, I suppose, and such a splendid one as it is! A city
-    house in a fashionable street, not so showy as our big houses,
-    but twice as comfortable, and full of solid luxury, such as
-    English people believe in. I like it, for it's genuine. I've
-    seen the plate, the family jewels, the old servants, and
-    pictures of the country place, with its park, great house,
-    lovely grounds, and fine horses. Oh, it would be all I should
-    ask! and I'd rather have it than any title such as girls snap up
-    so readily, and find nothing behind. I may be mercenary, but I
-    hate poverty, and don't mean to bear it a minute longer than I
-    can help. One of us _must_ marry well; Meg didn't, Jo won't,
-    Beth can't yet, so I shall, and make everything cosey all round.
-    I wouldn't marry a man I hated or despised. You may be sure of
-    that; and, though Fred is not my model hero, he does very well,
-    and, in time, I should get fond enough of him if he was very
-    fond of me, and let me do just as I liked. So I've been turning
-    the matter over in my mind the last week, for it was impossible
-    to help seeing that Fred liked me. He said nothing, but little
-    things showed it; he never goes with Flo, always gets on my side
-    of the carriage, table, or promenade, looks sentimental when we
-    are alone, and frowns at any one else who ventures to speak to
-    me. Yesterday, at dinner, when an Austrian officer stared at us,
-    and then said something to his friend,--a rakish-looking
-    baron,--about '_ein wonderschönes Blöndchen_,' Fred looked as
-    fierce as a lion, and cut his meat so savagely, it nearly flew
-    off his plate. He isn't one of the cool, stiff Englishmen, but
-    is rather peppery, for he has Scotch blood in him, as one might
-    guess from his bonnie blue eyes.
-
-    "Well, last evening we went up to the castle about sunset,--at
-    least all of us but Fred, who was to meet us there, after going
-    to the Post Restante for letters. We had a charming time poking
-    about the ruins, the vaults where the monster tun is, and the
-    beautiful gardens made by the elector, long ago, for his English
-    wife. I liked the great terrace best, for the view was divine;
-    so, while the rest went to see the rooms inside, I sat there
-    trying to sketch the gray stone lion's head on the wall, with
-    scarlet woodbine sprays hanging round it. I felt as if I'd got
-    into a romance, sitting there, watching the Neckar rolling
-    through the valley, listening to the music of the Austrian band
-    below, and waiting for my lover, like a real story-book girl. I
-    had a feeling that something was going to happen, and I was
-    ready for it. I didn't feel blushy or quakey, but quite cool,
-    and only a little excited.
-
-[Illustration: Trying to sketch the gray-stone lion's head on the wall]
-
-    "By and by I heard Fred's voice, and then he came hurrying
-    through the great arch to find me. He looked so troubled that I
-    forgot all about myself, and asked what the matter was. He said
-    he'd just got a letter begging him to come home, for Frank was
-    very ill; so he was going at once, in the night train, and only
-    had time to say good-by. I was very sorry for him, and
-    disappointed for myself, but only for a minute, because he
-    said, as he shook hands,--and said it in a way that I could not
-    mistake,--'I shall soon come back; you won't forget me, Amy?'
-
-    "I didn't promise, but I looked at him, and he seemed satisfied,
-    and there was no time for anything but messages and good-byes,
-    for he was off in an hour, and we all miss him very much. I know
-    he wanted to speak, but I think, from something he once hinted,
-    that he had promised his father not to do anything of the sort
-    yet awhile, for he is a rash boy, and the old gentleman dreads a
-    foreign daughter-in-law. We shall soon meet in Rome; and then,
-    if I don't change my mind, I'll say 'Yes, thank you,' when he
-    says 'Will you, please?'
-
-    "Of course this is all _very private_, but I wished you to know
-    what was going on. Don't be anxious about me; remember I am your
-    'prudent Amy,' and be sure I will do nothing rashly. Send me as
-    much advice as you like; I'll use it if I can. I wish I could
-    see you for a good talk, Marmee. Love and trust me.
-
-                                    "Ever your                 AMY."
-
-
-
-
-                                 XXXII.
-
-                            TENDER TROUBLES.
-
-
-"Jo, I'm anxious about Beth."
-
-"Why, mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came."
-
-"It's not her health that troubles me now; it's her spirits. I'm sure
-there is something on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is."
-
-"What makes you think so, mother?"
-
-"She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as
-she used. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she
-sings, the songs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in
-her face that I don't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries
-me."
-
-"Have you asked her about it?"
-
-"I have tried once or twice; but she either evaded my questions, or
-looked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's
-confidence, and I seldom have to wait for it long."
-
-Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemed
-quite unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's; and, after
-sewing thoughtfully for a minute, Jo said,--
-
-"I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have
-hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why, or being able to
-explain them. Why, mother, Beth's eighteen, but we don't realize it, and
-treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman."
-
-"So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up," returned her mother,
-with a sigh and a smile.
-
-"Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts of
-worries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise
-never to hop very far, if that is any comfort to you."
-
-"It is a great comfort, Jo; I always feel strong when you are at home,
-now Meg is gone. Beth is too feeble and Amy too young to depend upon;
-but when the tug comes, you are always ready."
-
-"Why, you know I don't mind hard jobs much, and there must always be one
-scrub in a family. Amy is splendid in fine works, and I'm not; but I
-feel in my element when all the carpets are to be taken up, or half the
-family fall sick at once. Amy is distinguishing herself abroad; but if
-anything is amiss at home, I'm your man."
-
-"I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender little
-heart to her Jo sooner than to any one else. Be very kind, and don't let
-her think any one watches or talks about her. If she only would get
-quite strong and cheerful again, I shouldn't have a wish in the world."
-
-"Happy woman! I've got heaps."
-
-"My dear, what are they?"
-
-"I'll settle Bethy's troubles, and then I'll tell you mine. They are not
-very wearing, so they'll keep;" and Jo stitched away, with a wise nod
-which set her mother's heart at rest about her, for the present at
-least.
-
-While apparently absorbed in her own affairs, Jo watched Beth; and,
-after many conflicting conjectures, finally settled upon one which
-seemed to explain the change in her. A slight incident gave Jo the clue
-to the mystery, she thought, and lively fancy, loving heart did the
-rest. She was affecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon, when she
-and Beth were alone together; yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on
-her sister, who seemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window, Beth's
-work often dropped into her lap, and she leaned her head upon her hand,
-in a dejected attitude, while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal
-landscape. Suddenly some one passed below, whistling like an operatic
-blackbird, and a voice called out,--
-
-           [Illustration: She leaned her head upon her hands]
-
-"All serene! Coming in to-night."
-
-Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded, watched the passer-by
-till his quick tramp died away, then said softly, as if to herself,--
-
-"How strong and well and happy that dear boy looks."
-
-"Hum!" said Jo, still intent upon her sister's face; for the bright
-color faded as quickly as it came, the smile vanished, and presently a
-tear lay shining on the window-ledge. Beth whisked it off, and glanced
-apprehensively at Jo; but she was scratching away at a tremendous rate,
-apparently engrossed in "Olympia's Oath." The instant Beth turned, Jo
-began her watch again, saw Beth's hand go quietly to her eyes more than
-once, and, in her half-averted face, read a tender sorrow that made her
-own eyes fill. Fearing to betray herself, she slipped away, murmuring
-something about needing more paper.
-
-"Mercy on me, Beth loves Laurie!" she said, sitting down in her own
-room, pale with the shock of the discovery which she believed she had
-just made. "I never dreamt of such a thing. What _will_ mother say? I
-wonder if he--" there Jo stopped, and turned scarlet with a sudden
-thought. "If he shouldn't love back again, how dreadful it would be. He
-must; I'll make him!" and she shook her head threateningly at the
-picture of the mischievous-looking boy laughing at her from the wall.
-"Oh dear, we _are_ growing up with a vengeance. Here's Meg married and a
-mamma, Amy flourishing away at Paris, and Beth in love. I'm the only one
-that has sense enough to keep out of mischief." Jo thought intently for
-a minute, with her eyes fixed on the picture; then she smoothed out her
-wrinkled forehead, and said, with a decided nod at the face opposite,
-"No, thank you, sir; you're very charming, but you've no more stability
-than a weathercock; so you needn't write touching notes, and smile in
-that insinuating way, for it won't do a bit of good, and I won't have
-it."
-
-Then she sighed, and fell into a reverie, from which she did not wake
-till the early twilight sent her down to take new observations, which
-only confirmed her suspicion. Though Laurie flirted with Amy and joked
-with Jo, his manner to Beth had always been peculiarly kind and gentle,
-but so was everybody's; therefore, no one thought of imagining that he
-cared more for her than for the others. Indeed, a general impression had
-prevailed in the family, of late, that "our boy" was getting fonder than
-ever of Jo, who, however, wouldn't hear a word upon the subject, and
-scolded violently if any one dared to suggest it. If they had known the
-various tender passages of the past year, or rather attempts at tender
-passages which had been nipped in the bud, they would have had the
-immense satisfaction of saying, "I told you so." But Jo hated
-"philandering," and wouldn't allow it, always having a joke or a smile
-ready at the least sign of impending danger.
-
-When Laurie first went to college, he fell in love about once a month;
-but these small flames were as brief as ardent, did no damage, and much
-amused Jo, who took great interest in the alternations of hope, despair,
-and resignation, which were confided to her in their weekly
-conferences. But there came a time when Laurie ceased to worship at many
-shrines, hinted darkly at one all-absorbing passion, and indulged
-occasionally in Byronic fits of gloom. Then he avoided the tender
-subject altogether, wrote philosophical notes to Jo, turned studious,
-and gave out that he was going to "dig," intending to graduate in a
-blaze of glory. This suited the young lady better than twilight
-confidences, tender pressures of the hand, and eloquent glances of the
-eye; for with Jo, brain developed earlier than heart, and she preferred
-imaginary heroes to real ones, because, when tired of them, the former
-could be shut up in the tin-kitchen till called for, and the latter were
-less manageable.
-
-Things were in this state when the grand discovery was made, and Jo
-watched Laurie that night as she had never done before. If she had not
-got the new idea into her head, she would have seen nothing unusual in
-the fact that Beth was very quiet, and Laurie very kind to her. But
-having given the rein to her lively fancy, it galloped away with her at
-a great pace; and common sense, being rather weakened by a long course
-of romance writing, did not come to the rescue. As usual, Beth lay on
-the sofa, and Laurie sat in a low chair close by, amusing her with all
-sorts of gossip; for she depended on her weekly "spin," and he never
-disappointed her. But that evening, Jo fancied that Beth's eyes rested
-on the lively, dark face beside her with peculiar pleasure, and that she
-listened with intense interest to an account of some exciting
-cricket-match, though the phrases, "caught off a tice," "stumped off his
-ground," and "the leg hit for three," were as intelligible to her as
-Sanscrit. She also fancied, having set her heart upon seeing it, that
-she saw a certain increase of gentleness in Laurie's manner, that he
-dropped his voice now and then, laughed less than usual, was a little
-absent-minded, and settled the afghan over Beth's feet with an assiduity
-that was really almost tender.
-
-"Who knows? stranger things have happened," thought Jo, as she fussed
-about the room. "She will make quite an angel of him, and he will make
-life delightfully easy and pleasant for the dear, if they only love each
-other. I don't see how he can help it; and I do believe he would if the
-rest of us were out of the way."
-
-As every one _was_ out of the way but herself, Jo began to feel that
-she ought to dispose of herself with all speed. But where should she go?
-and burning to lay herself upon the shrine of sisterly devotion, she sat
-down to settle that point.
-
-Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa,--long, broad,
-well-cushioned, and low; a trifle shabby, as well it might be, for the
-girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies, fished over the back, rode
-on the arms, and had menageries under it as children, and rested tired
-heads, dreamed dreams, and listened to tender talk on it as young women.
-They all loved it, for it was a family refuge, and one corner had always
-been Jo's favorite lounging-place. Among the many pillows that adorned
-the venerable couch was one, hard, round, covered with prickly
-horsehair, and furnished with a knobby button at each end; this
-repulsive pillow was her especial property, being used as a weapon of
-defence, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber.
-
-Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with deep
-aversion, having been unmercifully pummelled with it in former days,
-when romping was allowed, and now frequently debarred by it from taking
-the seat he most coveted, next to Jo in the sofa corner. If "the
-sausage" as they called it, stood on end, it was a sign that he might
-approach and repose; but if it lay flat across the sofa, woe to the man,
-woman, or child who dared disturb it! That evening Jo forgot to
-barricade her corner, and had not been in her seat five minutes, before
-a massive form appeared beside her, and, with both arms spread over the
-sofa-back, both long legs stretched out before him, Laurie exclaimed,
-with a sigh of satisfaction,--
-
-"Now, _this_ is filling at the price."
-
-           [Illustration: Now, this is filling at the price]
-
-"No slang," snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was too late,
-there was no room for it; and, coasting on to the floor, it disappeared
-in a most mysterious manner.
-
-"Come, Jo, don't be thorny. After studying himself to a skeleton all the
-week, a fellow deserves petting, and ought to get it."
-
-"Beth will pet you; I'm busy."
-
-"No, she's not to be bothered with me; but you like that sort of thing,
-unless you've suddenly lost your taste for it. Have you? Do you hate
-your boy, and want to fire pillows at him?"
-
-Anything more wheedlesome than that touching appeal was seldom heard,
-but Jo quenched "her boy" by turning on him with the stern query,--
-
-"How many bouquets have you sent Miss Randal this week?"
-
-"Not one, upon my word. She's engaged. Now then."
-
-"I'm glad of it; that's one of your foolish extravagances,--sending
-flowers and things to girls for whom you don't care two pins," continued
-Jo reprovingly.
-
-"Sensible girls, for whom I do care whole papers of pins, won't let me
-send them 'flowers and things,' so what can I do? My feelings must have
-a _went_."
-
-"Mother doesn't approve of flirting, even in fun; and you do flirt
-desperately, Teddy."
-
-"I'd give anything if I could answer, 'So do you.' As I can't, I'll
-merely say that I don't see any harm in that pleasant little game, if
-all parties understand that it's only play."
-
-"Well, it does look pleasant, but I can't learn how it's done. I've
-tried, because one feels awkward in company, not to do as everybody else
-is doing; but I don't seem to get on," said Jo, forgetting to play
-Mentor.
-
-"Take lessons of Amy; she has a regular talent for it."
-
-"Yes, she does it very prettily, and never seems to go too far. I
-suppose it's natural to some people to please without trying, and others
-to always say and do the wrong thing in the wrong place."
-
-"I'm glad you can't flirt; it's really refreshing to see a sensible,
-straightforward girl, who can be jolly and kind without making a fool of
-herself. Between ourselves, Jo, some of the girls I know really do go on
-at such a rate I'm ashamed of them. They don't mean any harm, I'm sure;
-but if they knew how we fellows talked about them afterward, they'd mend
-their ways, I fancy."
-
-"They do the same; and, as their tongues are the sharpest, you fellows
-get the worst of it, for you are as silly as they, every bit. If you
-behaved properly, they would; but, knowing you like their nonsense, they
-keep it up, and then you blame them."
-
-"Much you know about it, ma'am," said Laurie, in a superior tone. "We
-don't like romps and flirts, though we may act as if we did sometimes.
-The pretty, modest girls are never talked about, except respectfully,
-among gentlemen. Bless your innocent soul! If you could be in my place
-for a month you'd see things that would astonish you a trifle. Upon my
-word, when I see one of those harum-scarum girls, I always want to say
-with our friend Cock Robin,--
-
-        "'Out upon you, fie upon you,
-           Bold-faced jig!'"
-
-It was impossible to help laughing at the funny conflict between
-Laurie's chivalrous reluctance to speak ill of womankind, and his very
-natural dislike of the unfeminine folly of which fashionable society
-showed him many samples. Jo knew that "young Laurence" was regarded as a
-most eligible _parti_ by worldly mammas, was much smiled upon by their
-daughters, and flattered enough by ladies of all ages to make a coxcomb
-of him; so she watched him rather jealously, fearing he would be spoilt,
-and rejoiced more than she confessed to find that he still believed in
-modest girls. Returning suddenly to her admonitory tone, she said,
-dropping her voice, "If you _must_ have a 'went,' Teddy, go and devote
-yourself to one of the 'pretty, modest girls' whom you do respect, and
-not waste your time with the silly ones."
-
-"You really advise it?" and Laurie looked at her with an odd mixture of
-anxiety and merriment in his face.
-
-"Yes, I do; but you'd better wait till you are through college, on the
-whole, and be fitting yourself for the place meantime. You're not half
-good enough for--well, whoever the modest girl maybe," and Jo looked a
-little queer likewise, for a name had almost escaped her.
-
-"That I'm not!" acquiesced Laurie, with an expression of humility quite
-new to him, as he dropped his eyes, and absently wound Jo's apron-tassel
-round his finger.
-
-"Mercy on us, this will never do," thought Jo; adding aloud, "Go and
-sing to me. I'm dying for some music, and always like yours."
-
-"I'd rather stay here, thank you."
-
-"Well, you can't; there isn't room. Go and make yourself useful, since
-you are too big to be ornamental. I thought you hated to be tied to a
-woman's apron-string?" retorted Jo, quoting certain rebellious words of
-his own.
-
-"Ah, that depends on who wears the apron!" and Laurie gave an audacious
-tweak at the tassel.
-
-"Are you going?" demanded Jo, diving for the pillow.
-
-He fled at once, and the minute it was well "Up with the bonnets of
-bonnie Dundee," she slipped away, to return no more till the young
-gentleman had departed in high dudgeon.
-
-          [Illustration: Up with the Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee]
-
-Jo lay long awake that night, and was just dropping off when the sound
-of a stifled sob made her fly to Beth's bedside, with the anxious
-inquiry, "What is it, dear?"
-
-"I thought you were asleep," sobbed Beth.
-
-"Is it the old pain, my precious?"
-
-"No; it's a new one; but I can bear it," and Beth tried to check her
-tears.
-
-"Tell me all about it, and let me cure it as I often did the other."
-
-"You can't; there is no cure." There Beth's voice gave way, and,
-clinging to her sister, she cried so despairingly that Jo was
-frightened.
-
-"Where is it? Shall I call mother?"
-
-Beth did not answer the first question; but in the dark one hand went
-involuntarily to her heart, as if the pain were there; with the other
-she held Jo fast, whispering eagerly, "No, no, don't call her, don't
-tell her. I shall be better soon. Lie down here and 'poor' my head. I'll
-be quiet, and go to sleep; indeed I will."
-
-Jo obeyed; but as her hand went softly to and fro across Beth's hot
-forehead and wet eyelids, her heart was very full, and she longed to
-speak. But young as she was, Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers,
-cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally; so, though she
-believed she knew the cause of Beth's new pain, she only said, in her
-tenderest tone, "Does anything trouble you, deary?"
-
-"Yes, Jo," after a long pause.
-
-"Wouldn't it comfort you to tell me what it is?"
-
-"Not now, not yet."
-
-"Then I won't ask; but remember, Bethy, that mother and Jo are always
-glad to hear and help you, if they can."
-
-"I know it. I'll tell you by and by."
-
-"Is the pain better now?"
-
-"Oh, yes, much better; you are so comfortable, Jo!"
-
-"Go to sleep, dear; I'll stay with you."
-
-So cheek to cheek they fell asleep, and on the morrow Beth seemed quite
-herself again; for at eighteen, neither heads nor hearts ache long, and
-a loving word can medicine most ills.
-
-But Jo had made up her mind, and, after pondering over a project for
-some days, she confided it to her mother.
-
-"You asked me the other day what my wishes were. I'll tell you one of
-them, Marmee," she began, as they sat alone together. "I want to go away
-somewhere this winter for a change."
-
-"Why, Jo?" and her mother looked up quickly, as if the words suggested a
-double meaning.
-
-With her eyes on her work, Jo answered soberly, "I want something new; I
-feel restless, and anxious to be seeing, doing, and learning more than I
-am. I brood too much over my own small affairs, and need stirring up,
-so, as I can be spared this winter, I'd like to hop a little way, and
-try my wings."
-
-"Where will you hop?"
-
-"To New York. I had a bright idea yesterday, and this is it. You know
-Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young person to teach her
-children and sew. It's rather hard to find just the thing, but I think I
-should suit if I tried."
-
-"My dear, go out to service in that great boarding-house!" and Mrs.
-March looked surprised, but not displeased.
-
-"It's not exactly going out to service; for Mrs. Kirke is your
-friend,--the kindest soul that ever lived,--and would make things
-pleasant for me, I know. Her family is separate from the rest, and no
-one knows me there. Don't care if they do; it's honest work, and I'm not
-ashamed of it."
-
-"Nor I; but your writing?"
-
-"All the better for the change. I shall see and hear new things, get new
-ideas, and, even if I haven't much time there, I shall bring home
-quantities of material for my rubbish."
-
-"I have no doubt of it; but are these your only reasons for this sudden
-fancy?"
-
-"No, mother."
-
-"May I know the others?"
-
-Jo looked up and Jo looked down, then said slowly, with sudden color in
-her cheeks, "It may be vain and wrong to say it, but--I'm afraid--Laurie
-is getting too fond of me."
-
-"Then you don't care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care
-for you?" and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.
-
-"Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely
-proud of him; but as for anything more, it's out of the question."
-
-"I'm glad of that, Jo."
-
-"Why, please?"
-
-"Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you
-are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over; but I fear
-you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike
-and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to
-get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and
-forbearance, as well as love."
-
-"That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad
-you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly
-to make him unhappy; for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old
-fellow merely out of gratitude, could I?"
-
-"You are sure of his feeling for you?"
-
-The color deepened in Jo's cheeks, as she answered, with the look of
-mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking
-of first lovers,--
-
-"I'm afraid it is so, mother; he hasn't said anything, but he looks a
-great deal. I think I had better go away before it comes to anything."
-
-"I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go."
-
-Jo looked relieved, and, after a pause, said, smiling, "How Mrs. Moffat
-would wonder at your want of management, if she knew; and how she will
-rejoice that Annie still may hope."
-
-"Ah, Jo, mothers may differ in their management, but the hope is the
-same in all,--the desire to see their children happy. Meg is so, and I
-am content with her success. You I leave to enjoy your liberty till you
-tire of it; for only then will you find that there is something sweeter.
-Amy is my chief care now, but her good sense will help her. For Beth, I
-indulge no hopes except that she may be well. By the way, she seems
-brighter this last day or two. Have you spoken to her?"
-
-"Yes; she owned she had a trouble, and promised to tell me by and by. I
-said no more, for I think I know it;" and Jo told her little story.
-
-Mrs. March shook her head, and did not take so romantic a view of the
-case, but looked grave, and repeated her opinion that, for Laurie's
-sake, Jo should go away for a time.
-
-"Let us say nothing about it to him till the plan is settled; then I'll
-run away before he can collect his wits and be tragical. Beth must think
-I'm going to please myself, as I am, for I can't talk about Laurie to
-her; but she can pet and comfort him after I'm gone, and so cure him of
-this romantic notion. He's been through so many little trials of the
-sort, he's used to it, and will soon get over his love-lornity."
-
-Jo spoke hopefully, but could not rid herself of the foreboding fear
-that this "little trial" would be harder than the others, and that
-Laurie would not get over his "love-lornity" as easily as heretofore.
-
-The plan was talked over in a family council, and agreed upon; for Mrs.
-Kirke gladly accepted Jo, and promised to make a pleasant home for her.
-The teaching would render her independent; and such leisure as she got
-might be made profitable by writing, while the new scenes and society
-would be both useful and agreeable. Jo liked the prospect and was eager
-to be gone, for the home-nest was growing too narrow for her restless
-nature and adventurous spirit. When all was settled, with fear and
-trembling she told Laurie; but to her surprise he took it very quietly.
-He had been graver than usual of late, but very pleasant; and, when
-jokingly accused of turning over a new leaf, he answered soberly, "So I
-am; and I mean this one shall stay turned."
-
-Jo was very much relieved that one of his virtuous fits should come on
-just then, and made her preparations with a lightened heart,--for Beth
-seemed more cheerful,--and hoped she was doing the best for all.
-
-"One thing I leave to your especial care," she said, the night before
-she left.
-
-"You mean your papers?" asked Beth.
-
-"No, my boy. Be very good to him, won't you?"
-
-"Of course I will; but I can't fill your place, and he'll miss you
-sadly."
-
-"It won't hurt him; so remember, I leave him in your charge, to plague,
-pet, and keep in order."
-
-"I'll do my best, for your sake," promised Beth, wondering why Jo looked
-at her so queerly.
-
-When Laurie said "Good-by," he whispered significantly, "It won't do a
-bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you; so mind what you do, or I'll come and
-bring you home."
-
-
-
-
-  [Illustration: I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the
-                                 seat]
-
-                                XXXIII.
-
-                             JO'S JOURNAL.
-
-
-                                                "NEW YORK, November.
-
-    "DEAR MARMEE AND BETH,--
-
-    "I'm going to write you a regular volume, for I've got heaps to
-    tell, though I'm not a fine young lady travelling on the
-    continent. When I lost sight of father's dear old face, I felt a
-    trifle blue, and might have shed a briny drop or two, if an
-    Irish lady with four small children, all crying more or less,
-    hadn't diverted my mind; for I amused myself by dropping
-    gingerbread nuts over the seat every time they opened their
-    mouths to roar.
-
-    "Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared
-    up likewise, and enjoyed my journey with all my heart.
-
-    "Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even
-    in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little
-    sky-parlor--all she had; but there is a stove in it, and a nice
-    table in a sunny window, so I can sit here and write whenever I
-    like. A fine view and a church-tower opposite atone for the many
-    stairs, and I took a fancy to my den on the spot. The nursery,
-    where I am to teach and sew, is a pleasant room next Mrs.
-    Kirke's private parlor, and the two little girls are pretty
-    children,--rather spoilt, I fancy, but they took to me after
-    telling them 'The Seven Bad Pigs;' and I've no doubt I shall
-    make a model governess.
-
-    "I am to have my meals with the children, if I prefer it to the
-    great table, and for the present I do, for I _am_ bashful,
-    though no one will believe it.
-
-    "'Now, my dear, make yourself at home,' said Mrs. K. in her
-    motherly way; 'I'm on the drive from morning to night, as you
-    may suppose with such a family; but a great anxiety will be off
-    my mind if I know the children are safe with you. My rooms are
-    always open to you, and your own shall be as comfortable as I
-    can make it. There are some pleasant people in the house if you
-    feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if
-    anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can. There's the
-    tea-bell; I must run and change my cap;' and off she bustled,
-    leaving me to settle myself in my new nest.
-
-    "As I went downstairs, soon after, I saw something I liked. The
-    flights are very long in this tall house, and as I stood waiting
-    at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to lumber
-    up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy hod
-    of coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at
-    a door near by, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a
-    foreign accent,--
-
-    "'It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such
-    heaviness.'
-
-    "Wasn't it good of him? I like such things, for, as father says,
-    trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that
-    evening, she laughed, and said,--
-
-    "'That must have been Professor Bhaer; he's always doing things
-    of that sort.'
-
-    "Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin; very learned and good, but
-    poor as a church-mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and
-    two little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according
-    to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. Not a very
-    romantic story, but it interested me; and I was glad to hear
-    that Mrs. K. lends him her parlor for some of his scholars.
-    There is a glass door between it and the nursery, and I mean to
-    peep at him, and then I'll tell you how he looks. He's almost
-    forty, so it's no harm, Marmee.
-
-    "After tea and a go-to-bed romp with the little girls, I
-    attacked the big work-basket, and had a quiet evening chatting
-    with my new friend. I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it
-    once a week; so good-night, and more to-morrow."
-
-                                                     "_Tuesday Eve._
-
-    "Had a lively time in my seminary, this morning, for the
-    children acted like Sancho; and at one time I really thought I
-    should shake them all round. Some good angel inspired me to try
-    gymnastics, and I kept it up till they were glad to sit down and
-    keep still. After luncheon, the girl took them out for a walk,
-    and I went to my needle-work, like little Mabel, 'with a willing
-    mind.' I was thanking my stars that I'd learned to make nice
-    button-holes, when the parlor-door opened and shut, and some one
-    began to hum,--
-
-                         'Kennst du das land,'
-
-    like a big bumble-bee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I
-    couldn't resist the temptation; and lifting one end of the
-    curtain before the glass door, I peeped in. Professor Bhaer was
-    there; and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at
-    him. A regular German,--rather stout, with brown hair tumbled
-    all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I
-    ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one's ears good,
-    after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were
-    rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn't a really handsome
-    feature in his face, except his beautiful teeth; yet I liked
-    him, for he had a fine head; his linen was very nice, and he
-    looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat,
-    and there was a patch on one shoe. He looked sober in spite of
-    his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth
-    bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like
-    an old friend. Then he smiled; and when a tap came at the door,
-    called out in a loud, brisk tone,--
-
-    "'Herein!'
-
-    "I was just going to run, when I caught sight of a morsel of a
-    child carrying a big book, and stopped to see what was going on.
-
-    "'Me wants my Bhaer,' said the mite, slamming down her book, and
-    running to meet him.
-
-    "'Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer; come, then, and take a goot hug from
-    him, my Tina,' said the Professor, catching her up, with a
-    laugh, and holding her so high over his head that she had to
-    stoop her little face to kiss him.
-
-                [Illustration: Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer]
-
-    "'Now me mus tuddy my lessin,' went on the funny little thing;
-    so he put her up at the table, opened the great dictionary she
-    had brought, and gave her a paper and pencil, and she scribbled
-    away, turning a leaf now and then, and passing her little fat
-    finger down the page, as if finding a word, so soberly that I
-    nearly betrayed myself by a laugh, while Mr. Bhaer stood
-    stroking her pretty hair, with a fatherly look, that made me
-    think she must be his own, though she looked more French than
-    German.
-
-    "Another knock and the appearance of two young ladies sent me
-    back to my work, and there I virtuously remained through all the
-    noise and gabbling that went on next door. One of the girls kept
-    laughing affectedly, and saying 'Now Professor,' in a
-    coquettish tone, and the other pronounced her German with an
-    accent that must have made it hard for him to keep sober.
-
-    "Both seemed to try his patience sorely; for more than once I
-    heard him say emphatically, 'No, no, it is _not_ so; you haf not
-    attend to what I say;' and once there was a loud rap, as if he
-    struck the table with his book, followed by the despairing
-    exclamation, 'Prut! it all goes bad this day.'
-
-    "Poor man, I pitied him; and when the girls were gone, took just
-    one more peep, to see if he survived it. He seemed to have
-    thrown himself back in his chair, tired out, and sat there with
-    his eyes shut till the clock struck two, when he jumped up, put
-    his books in his pocket, as if ready for another lesson, and,
-    taking little Tina, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, in his
-    arms, he carried her quietly away. I fancy he has a hard life of
-    it.
-
-    "Mrs. Kirke asked me if I wouldn't go down to the five o'clock
-    dinner; and, feeling a little bit homesick, I thought I would,
-    just to see what sort of people are under the same roof with me.
-    So I made myself respectable, and tried to slip in behind Mrs.
-    Kirke; but as she is short, and I'm tall, my efforts at
-    concealment were rather a failure. She gave me a seat by her,
-    and after my face cooled off, I plucked up courage, and looked
-    about me. The long table was full, and every one intent on
-    getting their dinner,--the gentlemen especially, who seemed to
-    be eating on time, for they _bolted_ in every sense of the word,
-    vanishing as soon as they were done. There was the usual
-    assortment of young men absorbed in themselves; young couples
-    absorbed in each other; married ladies in their babies, and old
-    gentlemen in politics. I don't think I shall care to have much
-    to do with any of them, except one sweet-faced maiden lady, who
-    looks as if she had something in her.
-
-    "Cast away at the very bottom of the table was the Professor,
-    shouting answers to the questions of a very inquisitive, deaf
-    old gentleman on one side, and talking philosophy with a
-    Frenchman on the other. If Amy had been here, she'd have turned
-    her back on him forever, because, sad to relate, he had a great
-    appetite, and shovelled in his dinner in a manner which would
-    have horrified 'her ladyship.' I didn't mind, for I like 'to see
-    folks eat with a relish,' as Hannah says, and the poor man must
-    have needed a deal of food after teaching idiots all day.
-
-    "As I went upstairs after dinner, two of the young men were
-    settling their hats before the hall-mirror, and I heard one say
-    low to the other, 'Who's the new party?'
-
-    "'Governess, or something of that sort.'
-
-    "'What the deuce is she at our table for?'
-
-    "'Friend of the old lady's.'
-
-    "'Handsome head, but no style.'
-
-    "'Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on.'
-
-    "I felt angry at first, and then I didn't care, for a governess
-    is as good as a clerk, and I've got sense, if I haven't style,
-    which is more than some people have, judging from the remarks of
-    the elegant beings who clattered away, smoking like bad
-    chimneys. I hate ordinary people!"
-
-                                                        "_Thursday._
-
-    "Yesterday was a quiet day, spent in teaching, sewing, and
-    writing in my little room, which is very cosey, with a light and
-    fire. I picked up a few bits of news, and was introduced to the
-    Professor. It seems that Tina is the child of the Frenchwoman
-    who does the fine ironing in the laundry here. The little thing
-    has lost her heart to Mr. Bhaer, and follows him about the house
-    like a dog whenever he is at home, which delights him, as he is
-    very fond of children, though a 'bacheldore.' Kitty and Minnie
-    Kirke likewise regard him with affection, and tell all sorts of
-    stories about the plays he invents, the presents he brings, and
-    the splendid tales he tells. The young men quiz him, it seems,
-    call him Old Fritz, Lager Beer, Ursa Major, and make all manner
-    of jokes on his name. But he enjoys it like a boy, Mrs. K. says,
-    and takes it so good-naturedly that they all like him, in spite
-    of his foreign ways.
-
-    "The maiden lady is a Miss Norton,--rich, cultivated, and kind.
-    She spoke to me at dinner to-day (for I went to table again,
-    it's such fun to watch people), and asked me to come and see her
-    at her room. She has fine books and pictures, knows interesting
-    persons, and seems friendly; so I shall make myself agreeable,
-    for I _do_ want to get into good society, only it isn't the same
-    sort that Amy likes.
-
-    "I was in our parlor last evening, when Mr. Bhaer came in with
-    some newspapers for Mrs. Kirke. She wasn't there, but Minnie,
-    who is a little old woman, introduced me very prettily: 'This is
-    mamma's friend, Miss March.'
-
-    "'Yes; and she's jolly and we like her lots,' added Kitty, who
-    is an _enfant terrible_.
-
-    "We both bowed, and then we laughed, for the prim introduction
-    and the blunt addition were rather a comical contrast.
-
-    "'Ah, yes, I hear these naughty ones go to vex you, Mees Marsch.
-    If so again, call at me and I come,' he said, with a threatening
-    frown that delighted the little wretches.
-
-    "I promised I would, and he departed; but it seems as if I was
-    doomed to see a good deal of him, for to-day, as I passed his
-    door on my way out, by accident I knocked against it with my
-    umbrella. It flew open, and there he stood in his dressing gown,
-    with a big blue sock on one hand, and a darning-needle in the
-    other; he didn't seem at all ashamed of it, for when I explained
-    and hurried on, he waved his hand, sock and all, saying in his
-    loud, cheerful way,--
-
-            [Illustration: He waved his hand, sock and all]
-
-    "'You haf a fine day to make your walk. _Bon voyage,
-    mademoiselle._'
-
-    "I laughed all the way downstairs; but it was a little pathetic,
-    also, to think of the poor man having to mend his own clothes.
-    The German gentlemen embroider, I know; but darning hose is
-    another thing, and not so pretty."
-
-                                                        "_Saturday._
-
-    "Nothing has happened to write about, except a call on Miss
-    Norton, who has a room full of lovely things, and who was very
-    charming, for she showed me all her treasures, and asked me if I
-    would sometimes go with her to lectures and concerts, as her
-    escort,--if I enjoyed them. She put it as a favor, but I'm sure
-    Mrs. Kirke has told her about us, and she does it out of
-    kindness to me. I'm as proud as Lucifer, but such favors from
-    such people don't burden me, and I accepted gratefully.
-
-    "When I got back to the nursery there was such an uproar in the
-    parlor that I looked in; and there was Mr. Bhaer down on his
-    hands and knees, with Tina on his back, Kitty leading him with a
-    jump-rope, and Minnie feeding two small boys with seed-cakes, as
-    they roared and ramped in cages built of chairs.
-
-    "'We are playing _nargerie_,' explained Kitty.
-
-    "'Dis is mine effalunt!' added Tina, holding on by the
-    Professor's hair.
-
-                  [Illustration: Dis is mine effalunt]
-
-    "'Mamma always allows us to do what we like Saturday afternoon,
-    when Franz and Emil come, doesn't she, Mr. Bhaer?' said
-    Minnie.
-
-    "The 'effalunt' sat up, looking as much in earnest as any of
-    them, and said soberly to me,--
-
-    "'I gif you my wort it is so. If we make too large a noise you
-    shall say "Hush!" to us, and we go more softly.'
-
-    "I promised to do so, but left the door open, and enjoyed the
-    fun as much as they did,--for a more glorious frolic I never
-    witnessed. They played tag and soldiers, danced and sung, and
-    when it began to grow dark they all piled on to the sofa about
-    the Professor, while he told charming fairy stories of the
-    storks on the chimney-tops, and the little 'kobolds,' who ride
-    the snow-flakes as they fall. I wish Americans were as simple
-    and natural as Germans, don't you?
-
-    "I'm so fond of writing, I should go spinning on forever if
-    motives of economy didn't stop me, for though I've used thin
-    paper and written fine, I tremble to think of the stamps this
-    long letter will need. Pray forward Amy's as soon as you can
-    spare them. My small news will sound very flat after her
-    splendors, but you will like them, I know. Is Teddy studying so
-    hard that he can't find time to write to his friends? Take good
-    care of him for me, Beth, and tell me all about the babies, and
-    give heaps of love to every one.
-
-                                "From your faithful              JO.
-
-    "P. S. On reading over my letter it strikes me as rather Bhaery;
-    but I am always interested in odd people, and I really had
-    nothing else to write about. Bless you!"
-
-                                                         "DECEMBER.
-
-    "MY PRECIOUS BETSEY,--
-
-    "As this is to be a scribble-scrabble letter, I direct it to
-    you, for it may amuse you, and give you some idea of my goings
-    on; for, though quiet, they are rather amusing, for which, oh,
-    be joyful! After what Amy would call Herculaneum efforts, in the
-    way of mental and moral agriculture, my young ideas begin to
-    shoot and my little twigs to bend as I could wish. They are not
-    so interesting to me as Tina and the boys, but I do my duty by
-    them, and they are fond of me. Franz and Emil are jolly little
-    lads, quite after my own heart; for the mixture of German and
-    American spirit in them produces a constant state of
-    effervescence. Saturday afternoons are riotous times, whether
-    spent in the house or out; for on pleasant days they all go to
-    walk, like a seminary, with the Professor and myself to keep
-    order; and then such fun!
-
-    "We are very good friends now, and I've begun to take lessons. I
-    really couldn't help it, and it all came about in such a droll
-    way that I must tell you. To begin at the beginning, Mrs. Kirke
-    called to me, one day, as I passed Mr. Bhaer's room, where she
-    was rummaging.
-
-    "'Did you ever see such a den, my dear? Just come and help me
-    put these books to rights, for I've turned everything upside
-    down, trying to discover what he has done with the six new
-    handkerchiefs I gave him not long ago.'
-
-    "I went in, and while we worked I looked about me, for it was 'a
-    den,' to be sure. Books and papers everywhere; a broken
-    meerschaum, and an old flute over the mantel-piece as if done
-    with; a ragged bird, without any tail, chirped on one
-    window-seat, and a box of white mice adorned the other;
-    half-finished boats and bits of string lay among the
-    manuscripts; dirty little boots stood drying before the fire;
-    and traces of the dearly beloved boys, for whom he makes a slave
-    of himself, were to be seen all over the room. After a grand
-    rummage three of the missing articles were found,--one over the
-    bird-cage, one covered with ink, and a third burnt brown, having
-    been used as a holder.
-
-    "'Such a man!' laughed good-natured Mrs. K., as she put the
-    relics in the rag-bag. 'I suppose the others are torn up to rig
-    ships, bandage cut fingers, or make kite-tails. It's dreadful,
-    but I can't scold him: he's so absent-minded and good-natured,
-    he lets those boys ride over him rough-shod. I agreed to do his
-    washing and mending, but he forgets to give out his things and I
-    forget to look them over, so he comes to a sad pass sometimes.'
-
-    "'Let me mend them,' said I. 'I don't mind it, and he needn't
-    know. I'd like to,--he's so kind to me about bringing my letters
-    and lending books.'
-
-    "So I have got his things in order, and knit heels into two
-    pairs of the socks,--for they were boggled out of shape with his
-    queer darns. Nothing was said, and I hoped he wouldn't find it
-    out, but one day last week he caught me at it. Hearing the
-    lessons he gives to others has interested and amused me so much
-    that I took a fancy to learn; for Tina runs in and out, leaving
-    the door open, and I can hear. I had been sitting near this
-    door, finishing off the last sock, and trying to understand what
-    he said to a new scholar, who is as stupid as I am. The girl had
-    gone, and I thought he had also, it was so still, and I was
-    busily gabbling over a verb, and rocking to and fro in a most
-    absurd way, when a little crow made me look up, and there was
-    Mr. Bhaer looking and laughing quietly, while he made signs to
-    Tina not to betray him.
-
-    "'So!' he said, as I stopped and stared like a goose, 'you peep
-    at me, I peep at you, and that is not bad; but see, I am not
-    pleasanting when I say, haf you a wish for German?'
-
-    "'Yes; but you are too busy. I am too stupid to learn,' I
-    blundered out, as red as a peony.
-
-    "'Prut! we will make the time, and we fail not to find the
-    sense. At efening I shall gif a little lesson with much
-    gladness; for, look you, Mees Marsch, I haf this debt to pay,'
-    and he pointed to my work. 'Yes, they say to one another, these
-    so kind ladies, "he is a stupid old fellow; he will see not what
-    we do; he will never opserve that his sock-heels go not in holes
-    any more, he will think his buttons grow out new when they fall,
-    and believe that strings make theirselves." Ah! but I haf an
-    eye, and I see much. I haf a heart, and I feel the thanks for
-    this. Come, a little lesson then and now, or no more good fairy
-    works for me and mine.'
-
-    "Of course I couldn't say anything after that, and as it really
-    is a splendid opportunity, I made the bargain, and we began. I
-    took four lessons, and then I stuck fast in a grammatical bog.
-    The Professor was very patient with me, but it must have been
-    torment to him, and now and then he'd look at me with such an
-    expression of mild despair that it was a toss-up with me whether
-    to laugh or cry. I tried both ways; and when it came to a sniff
-    of utter mortification and woe, he just threw the grammar on to
-    the floor, and marched out of the room. I felt myself disgraced
-    and deserted forever, but didn't blame him a particle, and was
-    scrambling my papers together, meaning to rush upstairs and
-    shake myself hard, when in he came, as brisk and beaming as if
-    I'd covered myself with glory.
-
-    "'Now we shall try a new way. You and I will read these pleasant
-    little Märchen together, and dig no more in that dry book, that
-    goes in the corner for making us trouble.'
-
-    "He spoke so kindly, and opened Hans Andersen's fairy tales so
-    invitingly before me, that I was more ashamed than ever, and
-    went at my lesson in a neck-or-nothing style that seemed to
-    amuse him immensely. I forgot my bashfulness, and pegged away
-    (no other word will express it) with all my might, tumbling over
-    long words, pronouncing according to the inspiration of the
-    minute, and doing my very best. When I finished reading my first
-    page, and stopped for breath, he clapped his hands and cried
-    out, in his hearty way, 'Das ist gute! Now we go well! My turn.
-    I do him in German; gif me your ear.' And away he went, rumbling
-    out the words with his strong voice, and a relish which was good
-    to see as well as hear. Fortunately the story was the 'Constant
-    Tin Soldier,' which is droll, you know, so I could laugh,--and I
-    did,--though I didn't understand half he read, for I couldn't
-    help it, he was so earnest, I so excited, and the whole thing so
-    comical.
-
-    "After that we got on better, and now I read my lessons pretty
-    well; for this way of studying suits me, and I can see that the
-    grammar gets tucked into the tales and poetry as one gives pills
-    in jelly. I like it very much, and he doesn't seem tired of it
-    yet,--which is very good of him, isn't it? I mean to give him
-    something on Christmas, for I dare not offer money. Tell me
-    something nice, Marmee.
-
-    "I'm glad Laurie seems so happy and busy, that he has given up
-    smoking, and lets his hair grow. You see Beth manages him better
-    than I did. I'm not jealous, dear; do your best, only don't make
-    a saint of him. I'm afraid I couldn't like him without a spice
-    of human naughtiness. Read him bits of my letters. I haven't
-    time to write much, and that will do just as well. Thank Heaven
-    Beth continues so comfortable."
-
-
-                                                           "JANUARY.
-
-    "A Happy New Year to you all, my dearest family, which of course
-    includes Mr. L. and a young man by the name of Teddy. I can't
-    tell you how much I enjoyed your Christmas bundle, for I didn't
-    get it till night, and had given up hoping. Your letter came in
-    the morning, but you said nothing about a parcel, meaning it
-    for a surprise; so I was disappointed, for I'd had a 'kind of a
-    feeling' that you wouldn't forget me. I felt a little low in my
-    mind, as I sat up in my room, after tea; and when the big,
-    muddy, battered-looking bundle was brought to me, I just hugged
-    it, and pranced. It was so _homey_ and refreshing, that I sat
-    down on the floor and read and looked and ate and laughed and
-    cried, in my usual absurd way. The things were just what I
-    wanted, and all the better for being made instead of bought.
-    Beth's new 'ink-bib' was capital; and Hannah's box of hard
-    gingerbread will be a treasure. I'll be sure and wear the nice
-    flannels you sent, Marmee, and read carefully the books father
-    has marked. Thank you all, heaps and heaps!
-
- [Illustration: I sat down upon the floor and read and looked and ate]
-
-    "Speaking of books reminds me that I'm getting rich in that
-    line for, on New Year's Day, Mr. Bhaer gave me a fine
-    Shakespeare. It is one he values much, and I've often admired
-    it, set up in the place of honor, with his German Bible, Plato,
-    Homer, and Milton; so you may imagine how I felt when he
-    brought it down, without its cover, and showed me my name in
-    it, 'from my friend Friedrich Bhaer.'
-
-    "'You say often you wish a library: here I gif you one; for
-    between these lids (he meant covers) is many books in one. Read
-    him well, and he will help you much; for the study of character
-    in this book will help you to read it in the world and paint it
-    with your pen.'
-
-    "I thanked him as well as I could, and talk now about 'my
-    library,' as if I had a hundred books. I never knew how much
-    there was in Shakespeare before; but then I never had a Bhaer to
-    explain it to me. Now _don't_ laugh at his horrid name; it isn't
-    pronounced either Bear or Beer, as people _will_ say it, but
-    something between the two, as only Germans can give it. I'm glad
-    you both like what I tell you about him, and hope you will know
-    him some day. Mother would admire his warm heart, father his
-    wise head. I admire both, and feel rich in my new 'friend
-    Friedrich Bhaer.'
-
-    "Not having much money, or knowing what he'd like, I got several
-    little things, and put them about the room, where he would find
-    them unexpectedly. They were useful, pretty, or funny,--a new
-    standish on his table, a little vase for his flower,--he always
-    has one, or a bit of green in a glass, to keep him fresh, he
-    says,--and a holder for his blower, so that he needn't burn up
-    what Amy calls 'mouchoirs.' I made it like those Beth
-    invented,--a big butterfly with a fat body, and black and yellow
-    wings, worsted feelers, and bead eyes. It took his fancy
-    immensely, and he put it on his mantel-piece as an article of
-    _vertu_; so it was rather a failure after all. Poor as he is, he
-    didn't forget a servant or a child in the house; and not a soul
-    here, from the French laundry-woman to Miss Norton, forgot him.
-    I was so glad of that.
-
-    "They got up a masquerade, and had a gay time New Year's Eve. I
-    didn't mean to go down, having no dress; but at the last minute,
-    Mrs. Kirke remembered some old brocades, and Miss Norton lent me
-    lace and feathers; so I dressed up as Mrs. Malaprop, and sailed
-    in with a mask on. No one knew me, for I disguised my voice, and
-    no one dreamed of the silent, haughty Miss March (for they think
-    I am very stiff and cool, most of them; and so I am to
-    whipper-snappers) could dance and dress, and burst out into a
-    'nice derangement of epitaphs, like an allegory on the banks of
-    the Nile.' I enjoyed it very much; and when we unmasked, it was
-    fun to see them stare at me. I heard one of the young men tell
-    another that he knew I'd been an actress; in fact, he thought he
-    remembered seeing me at one of the minor theatres. Meg will
-    relish that joke. Mr. Bhaer was Nick Bottom, and Tina was
-    Titania,--a perfect little fairy in his arms. To see them dance
-    was 'quite a landscape,' to use a Teddyism.
-
-    "I had a very happy New Year, after all; and when I thought it
-    over in my room, I felt as if I was getting on a little in spite
-    of my many failures; for I'm cheerful all the time now, work
-    with a will, and take more interest in other people than I used
-    to, which is satisfactory. Bless you all! Ever your loving
-
-                                                                JO."
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-           [Illustration: In the presence of three gentlemen]
-
-                                 XXXIV.
-
-                               A FRIEND.
-
-
-Though very happy in the social atmosphere about her, and very busy with
-the daily work that earned her bread, and made it sweeter for the
-effort, Jo still found time for literary labors. The purpose which now
-took possession of her was a natural one to a poor and ambitious girl;
-but the means she took to gain her end were not the best. She saw that
-money conferred power: money and power, therefore, she resolved to have;
-not to be used for herself alone, but for those whom she loved more than
-self.
-
-The dream of filling home with comforts, giving Beth everything she
-wanted, from strawberries in winter to an organ in her bedroom; going
-abroad herself, and always having _more_ than enough, so that she might
-indulge in the luxury of charity, had been for years Jo's most cherished
-castle in the air.
-
-The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might, after
-long travelling and much up-hill work lead to this delightful _château
-en Espagne_. But the novel disaster quenched her courage for a time, for
-public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on
-bigger bean-stalks than hers. Like that immortal hero, she reposed
-awhile after the first attempt, which resulted in a tumble, and the
-least lovely of the giant's treasures, if I remember rightly. But the
-"up again and take another" spirit was as strong in Jo as in Jack; so
-she scrambled up, on the shady side this time, and got more booty, but
-nearly left behind her what was far more precious than the money-bags.
-
-She took to writing sensation stories; for in those dark ages, even
-all-perfect America read rubbish. She told no one, but concocted a
-"thrilling tale," and boldly carried it herself to Mr. Dashwood, editor
-of the "Weekly Volcano." She had never read "Sartor Resartus," but she
-had a womanly instinct that clothes possess an influence more powerful
-over many than the worth of character or the magic of manners. So she
-dressed herself in her best, and, trying to persuade herself that she
-was neither excited nor nervous, bravely climbed two pairs of dark and
-dirty stairs to find herself in a disorderly room, a cloud of
-cigar-smoke, and the presence of three gentlemen, sitting with their
-heels rather higher than their hats, which articles of dress none of
-them took the trouble to remove on her appearance. Somewhat daunted by
-this reception, Jo hesitated on the threshold, murmuring in much
-embarrassment,--
-
-"Excuse me, I was looking for the 'Weekly Volcano' office; I wished to
-see Mr. Dashwood."
-
-Down went the highest pair of heels, up rose the smokiest gentleman,
-and, carefully cherishing his cigar between his fingers, he advanced,
-with a nod, and a countenance expressive of nothing but sleep. Feeling
-that she must get through the matter somehow, Jo produced her
-manuscript, and, blushing redder and redder with each sentence,
-blundered out fragments of the little speech carefully prepared for the
-occasion.
-
-"A friend of mine desired me to offer--a story--just as an
-experiment--would like your opinion--be glad to write more if this
-suits."
-
-While she blushed and blundered, Mr. Dashwood had taken the manuscript,
-and was turning over the leaves with a pair of rather dirty fingers, and
-casting critical glances up and down the neat pages.
-
-"Not a first attempt, I take it?" observing that the pages were
-numbered, covered only on one side, and not tied up with a ribbon,--sure
-sign of a novice.
-
-"No, sir; she has had some experience, and got a prize for a tale in the
-'Blarneystone Banner.'"
-
-"Oh, did she?" and Mr. Dashwood gave Jo a quick look, which seemed to
-take note of everything she had on, from the bow in her bonnet to the
-buttons on her boots. "Well, you can leave it, if you like. We've more
-of this sort of thing on hand than we know what to do with at present;
-but I'll run my eye over it, and give you an answer next week."
-
-Now, Jo did _not_ like to leave it, for Mr. Dashwood didn't suit her at
-all; but, under the circumstances, there was nothing for her to do but
-bow and walk away, looking particularly tall and dignified, as she was
-apt to do when nettled or abashed. Just then she was both; for it was
-perfectly evident, from the knowing glances exchanged among the
-gentlemen, that her little fiction of "my friend" was considered a good
-joke; and a laugh, produced by some inaudible remark of the editor, as
-he closed the door, completed her discomfiture. Half resolving never to
-return, she went home, and worked off her irritation by stitching
-pinafores vigorously; and in an hour or two was cool enough to laugh
-over the scene, and long for next week.
-
-When she went again, Mr. Dashwood was alone, whereat she rejoiced; Mr.
-Dashwood was much wider awake than before, which was agreeable; and Mr.
-Dashwood was not too deeply absorbed in a cigar to remember his manners:
-so the second interview was much more comfortable than the first.
-
-"We'll take this" (editors never say I), "if you don't object to a few
-alterations. It's too long, but omitting the passages I've marked will
-make it just the right length," he said, in a business-like tone.
-
-Jo hardly knew her own MS. again, so crumpled and underscored were its
-pages and paragraphs; but, feeling as a tender parent might on being
-asked to cut off her baby's legs in order that it might fit into a new
-cradle, she looked at the marked passages, and was surprised to find
-that all the moral reflections--which she had carefully put in as
-ballast for much romance--had been stricken out.
-
-"But, sir, I thought every story should have some sort of a moral, so I
-took care to have a few of my sinners repent."
-
-Mr. Dashwood's editorial gravity relaxed into a smile, for Jo had
-forgotten her "friend," and spoken as only an author could.
-
-"People want to be amused, not preached at, you know. Morals don't sell
-nowadays;" which was not quite a correct statement, by the way.
-
-"You think it would do with these alterations, then?"
-
-"Yes; it's a new plot, and pretty well worked up--language good, and so
-on," was Mr. Dashwood's affable reply.
-
-"What do you--that is, what compensation--" began Jo, not exactly
-knowing how to express herself.
-
-"Oh, yes, well, we give from twenty-five to thirty for things of this
-sort. Pay when it comes out," returned Mr. Dashwood, as if that point
-had escaped him; such trifles often do escape the editorial mind, it is
-said.
-
-"Very well; you can have it," said Jo, handing back the story, with a
-satisfied air; for, after the dollar-a-column work, even twenty-five
-seemed good pay.
-
-"Shall I tell my friend you will take another if she has one better than
-this?" asked Jo, unconscious of her little slip of the tongue, and
-emboldened by her success.
-
-"Well, we'll look at it; can't promise to take it. Tell her to make it
-short and spicy, and never mind the moral. What name would your friend
-like to put to it?" in a careless tone.
-
-"None at all, if you please; she doesn't wish her name to appear, and
-has no _nom de plume_," said Jo, blushing in spite of herself.
-
-"Just as she likes, of course. The tale will be out next week; will you
-call for the money, or shall I send it?" asked Mr. Dashwood, who felt a
-natural desire to know who his new contributor might be.
-
-"I'll call. Good morning, sir."
-
-As she departed, Mr. Dashwood put up his feet, with the graceful remark,
-"Poor and proud, as usual, but she'll do."
-
-Following Mr. Dashwood's directions, and making Mrs. Northbury her
-model, Jo rashly took a plunge into the frothy sea of sensational
-literature; but, thanks to the life-preserver thrown her by a friend,
-she came up again, not much the worse for her ducking.
-
-Like most young scribblers, she went abroad for her characters and
-scenery; and banditti, counts, gypsies, nuns, and duchesses appeared
-upon her stage, and played their parts with as much accuracy and spirit
-as could be expected. Her readers were not particular about such trifles
-as grammar, punctuation, and probability, and Mr. Dashwood graciously
-permitted her to fill his columns at the lowest prices, not thinking it
-necessary to tell her that the real cause of his hospitality was the
-fact that one of his hacks, on being offered higher wages, had basely
-left him in the lurch.
-
-She soon became interested in her work, for her emaciated purse grew
-stout, and the little hoard she was making to take Beth to the mountains
-next summer grew slowly but surely as the weeks passed. One thing
-disturbed her satisfaction, and that was that she did not tell them at
-home. She had a feeling that father and mother would not approve, and
-preferred to have her own way first, and beg pardon afterward. It was
-easy to keep her secret, for no name appeared with her stories; Mr.
-Dashwood had, of course, found it out very soon, but promised to be
-dumb; and, for a wonder, kept his word.
-
-She thought it would do her no harm, for she sincerely meant to write
-nothing of which she should be ashamed, and quieted all pricks of
-conscience by anticipations of the happy minute when she should show her
-earnings and laugh over her well-kept secret.
-
-But Mr. Dashwood rejected any but thrilling tales; and, as thrills could
-not be produced except by harrowing up the souls of the readers, history
-and romance, land and sea, science and art, police records and lunatic
-asylums, had to be ransacked for the purpose. Jo soon found that her
-innocent experience had given her but few glimpses of the tragic world
-which underlies society; so, regarding it in a business light, she set
-about supplying her deficiencies with characteristic energy. Eager to
-find material for stories, and bent on making them original in plot, if
-not masterly in execution, she searched newspapers for accidents,
-incidents, and crimes; she excited the suspicions of public librarians
-by asking for works on poisons; she studied faces in the street, and
-characters, good, bad, and indifferent, all about her; she delved in the
-dust of ancient times for facts or fictions so old that they were as
-good as new, and introduced herself to folly, sin, and misery, as well
-as her limited opportunities allowed. She thought she was prospering
-finely; but, unconsciously, she was beginning to desecrate some of the
-womanliest attributes of a woman's character. She was living in bad
-society; and, imaginary though it was, its influence affected her, for
-she was feeding heart and fancy on dangerous and unsubstantial food, and
-was fast brushing the innocent bloom from her nature by a premature
-acquaintance with the darker side of life, which comes soon enough to
-all of us.
-
-She was beginning to feel rather than see this, for much describing of
-other people's passions and feelings set her to studying and speculating
-about her own,--a morbid amusement, in which healthy young minds do not
-voluntarily indulge. Wrong-doing always brings its own punishment; and,
-when Jo most needed hers, she got it.
-
-I don't know whether the study of Shakespeare helped her to read
-character, or the natural instinct of a woman for what was honest,
-brave, and strong; but while endowing her imaginary heroes with every
-perfection under the sun, Jo was discovering a live hero, who interested
-her in spite of many human imperfections. Mr. Bhaer, in one of their
-conversations, had advised her to study simple, true, and lovely
-characters, wherever she found them, as good training for a writer. Jo
-took him at his word, for she coolly turned round and studied him,--a
-proceeding which would have much surprised him, had he known it, for the
-worthy Professor was very humble in his own conceit.
-
-Why everybody liked him was what puzzled Jo, at first. He was neither
-rich nor great, young nor handsome; in no respect what is called
-fascinating, imposing, or brilliant; and yet he was as attractive as a
-genial fire, and people seemed to gather about him as naturally as about
-a warm hearth. He was poor, yet always appeared to be giving something
-away; a stranger, yet every one was his friend; no longer young, but as
-happy-hearted as a boy; plain and peculiar, yet his face looked
-beautiful to many, and his oddities were freely forgiven for his sake.
-Jo often watched him, trying to discover the charm, and, at last,
-decided that it was benevolence which worked the miracle. If he had any
-sorrow, "it sat with its head under its wing," and he turned only his
-sunny side to the world. There were lines upon his forehead, but Time
-seemed to have touched him gently, remembering how kind he was to
-others. The pleasant curves about his mouth were the memorials of many
-friendly words and cheery laughs; his eyes were never cold or hard, and
-his big hand had a warm, strong grasp that was more expressive than
-words.
-
-His very clothes seemed to partake of the hospitable nature of the
-wearer. They looked as if they were at ease, and liked to make him
-comfortable; his capacious waistcoat was suggestive of a large heart
-underneath; his rusty coat had a social air, and the baggy pockets
-plainly proved that little hands often went in empty and came out full;
-his very boots were benevolent, and his collars never stiff and raspy
-like other people's.
-
-"That's it!" said Jo to herself, when she at length discovered that
-genuine good-will towards one's fellow-men could beautify and dignify
-even a stout German teacher, who shovelled in his dinner, darned his own
-socks, and was burdened with the name of Bhaer.
-
-Jo valued goodness highly, but she also possessed a most feminine
-respect for intellect, and a little discovery which she made about the
-Professor added much to her regard for him. He never spoke of himself,
-and no one ever knew that in his native city he had been a man much
-honored and esteemed for learning and integrity, till a countryman came
-to see him, and, in a conversation with Miss Norton, divulged the
-pleasing fact. From her Jo learned it, and liked it all the better
-because Mr. Bhaer had never told it. She felt proud to know that he was
-an honored Professor in Berlin, though only a poor language-master in
-America; and his homely, hard-working life was much beautified by the
-spice of romance which this discovery gave it.
-
-Another and a better gift than intellect was shown her in a most
-unexpected manner. Miss Norton had the _entrée_ into literary society,
-which Jo would have had no chance of seeing but for her. The solitary
-woman felt an interest in the ambitious girl, and kindly conferred many
-favors of this sort both on Jo and the Professor. She took them with
-her, one night, to a select symposium, held in honor of several
-celebrities.
-
-                   [Illustration: A select symposium]
-
-Jo went prepared to bow down and adore the mighty ones whom she had
-worshipped with youthful enthusiasm afar off. But her reverence for
-genius received a severe shock that night, and it took her some time to
-recover from the discovery that the great creatures were only men and
-women after all. Imagine her dismay, on stealing a glance of timid
-admiration at the poet whose lines suggested an ethereal being fed on
-"spirit, fire, and dew," to behold him devouring his supper with an
-ardor which flushed his intellectual countenance. Turning as from a
-fallen idol, she made other discoveries which rapidly dispelled her
-romantic illusions. The great novelist vibrated between two decanters
-with the regularity of a pendulum; the famous divine flirted openly with
-one of the Madame de Staëls of the age, who looked daggers at another
-Corinne, who was amiably satirizing her, after out-manœuvring her in
-efforts to absorb the profound philosopher, who imbibed tea Johnsonianly
-and appeared to slumber, the loquacity of the lady rendering speech
-impossible. The scientific celebrities, forgetting their mollusks and
-glacial periods, gossiped about art, while devoting themselves to
-oysters and ices with characteristic energy; the young musician, who was
-charming the city like a second Orpheus, talked horses; and the specimen
-of the British nobility present happened to be the most ordinary man of
-the party.
-
-Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely _désillusionée_,
-that she sat down in a corner to recover herself. Mr. Bhaer soon joined
-her, looking rather out of his element, and presently several of the
-philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an
-intellectual tournament in the recess. The conversation was miles beyond
-Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were
-unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms; and the
-only thing "evolved from her inner consciousness," was a bad headache
-after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was
-being picked to pieces, and put together on new, and, according to the
-talkers, on infinitely better principles than before; that religion was
-in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be
-the only God. Jo knew nothing about philosophy or metaphysics of any
-sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, came
-over her, as she listened with a sense of being turned adrift into time
-and space, like a young balloon out on a holiday.
-
-She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him
-looking at her with the grimmest expression she had ever seen him wear.
-He shook his head, and beckoned her to come away; but she was
-fascinated, just then, by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and
-kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to
-rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs.
-
-Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man, and slow to offer his own opinions,
-not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be
-lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people,
-attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit his
-brows, and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable young soul
-would be led astray by the rockets, to find, when the display was over,
-that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.
-
-He bore it as long as he could; but when he was appealed to for an
-opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation, and defended religion
-with all the eloquence of truth,--an eloquence which made his broken
-English musical, and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for
-the wise men argued well; but he didn't know when he was beaten, and
-stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got
-right again to Jo; the old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed
-better than the new; God was not a blind force, and immortality was not
-a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground
-under her feet again; and when Mr. Bhaer paused, out-talked, but not one
-whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.
-
-She did neither; but she remembered this scene, and gave the Professor
-her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out
-then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She
-began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank,
-intellect, or beauty; and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man
-has defined it to be, "truth, reverence, and good-will," then her friend
-Friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.
-
-This belief strengthened daily. She valued his esteem, she coveted his
-respect, she wanted to be worthy of his friendship; and, just when the
-wish was sincerest, she came near losing everything. It all grew out of
-a cocked hat; for one evening the Professor came in to give Jo her
-lesson, with a paper soldier-cap on his head, which Tina had put there,
-and he had forgotten to take off.
-
-"It's evident he doesn't look in his glass before coming down," thought
-Jo, with a smile, as he said "Goot efening," and sat soberly down, quite
-unconscious of the ludicrous contrast between his subject and his
-head-gear, for he was going to read her the "Death of Wallenstein."
-
-      [Illustration: He doesn't prink at his glass before coming]
-
-She said nothing at first, for she liked to hear him laugh out his big,
-hearty laugh, when anything funny happened, so she left him to discover
-it for himself, and presently forgot all about it; for to hear a German
-read Schiller is rather an absorbing occupation. After the reading came
-the lesson, which was a lively one, for Jo was in a gay mood that night,
-and the cocked-hat kept her eyes dancing with merriment. The Professor
-didn't know what to make of her, and stopped at last, to ask, with an
-air of mild surprise that was irresistible,--
-
-"Mees Marsch, for what do you laugh in your master's face? Haf you no
-respect for me, that you go on so bad?"
-
-"How can I be respectful, sir, when you forget to take your hat off?"
-said Jo.
-
-Lifting his hand to his head, the absent-minded Professor gravely felt
-and removed the little cocked-hat, looked at it a minute, and then threw
-back his head, and laughed like a merry bass-viol.
-
-"Ah! I see him now; it is that imp Tina who makes me a fool with my cap.
-Well, it is nothing; but see you, if this lesson goes not well, you too
-shall wear him."
-
-But the lesson did not go at all for a few minutes, because Mr. Bhaer
-caught sight of a picture on the hat, and, unfolding it, said, with an
-air of great disgust,--
-
-"I wish these papers did not come in the house; they are not for
-children to see, nor young people to read. It is not well, and I haf no
-patience with those who make this harm."
-
-Jo glanced at the sheet, and saw a pleasing illustration composed of a
-lunatic, a corpse, a villain, and a viper. She did not like it; but the
-impulse that made her turn it over was not one of displeasure, but fear,
-because, for a minute, she fancied the paper was the "Volcano." It was
-not, however, and her panic subsided as she remembered that, even if it
-had been, and one of her own tales in it, there would have been no name
-to betray her. She had betrayed herself, however, by a look and a blush;
-for, though an absent man, the Professor saw a good deal more than
-people fancied. He knew that Jo wrote, and had met her down among the
-newspaper offices more than once; but as she never spoke of it, he asked
-no questions, in spite of a strong desire to see her work. Now it
-occurred to him that she was doing what she was ashamed to own, and it
-troubled him. He did not say to himself, "It is none of my business;
-I've no right to say anything," as many people would have done; he only
-remembered that she was young and poor, a girl far away from mother's
-love and father's care; and he was moved to help her with an impulse as
-quick and natural as that which would prompt him to put out his hand to
-save a baby from a puddle. All this flashed through his mind in a
-minute, but not a trace of it appeared in his face; and by the time the
-paper was turned, and Jo's needle threaded, he was ready to say quite
-naturally, but very gravely,--
-
-"Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not like to think that good
-young girls should see such things. They are made pleasant to some, but
-I would more rather give my boys gunpowder to play with than this bad
-trash."
-
-"All may not be bad, only silly, you know; and if there is a demand for
-it, I don't see any harm in supplying it. Many very respectable people
-make an honest living out of what are called sensation stories," said
-Jo, scratching gathers so energetically that a row of little slits
-followed her pin.
-
-"There is a demand for whiskey, but I think you and I do not care to
-sell it. If the respectable people knew what harm they did, they would
-not feel that the living _was_ honest. They haf no right to put poison
-in the sugar-plum, and let the small ones eat it. No; they should think
-a little, and sweep mud in the street before they do this thing."
-
-Mr. Bhaer spoke warmly, and walked to the fire, crumpling the paper in
-his hands. Jo sat still, looking as if the fire had come to her; for her
-cheeks burned long after the cocked hat had turned to smoke, and gone
-harmlessly up the chimney.
-
-"I should like much to send all the rest after him," muttered the
-Professor, coming back with a relieved air.
-
-Jo thought what a blaze her pile of papers upstairs would make, and her
-hard-earned money lay rather heavily on her conscience at that minute.
-Then she thought consolingly to herself, "Mine are not like that; they
-are only silly, never bad, so I won't be worried;" and taking up her
-book, she said, with a studious face,--
-
-"Shall we go on, sir? I'll be very good and proper now."
-
-"I shall hope so," was all he said, but he meant more than she imagined;
-and the grave, kind look he gave her made her feel as if the words
-"Weekly Volcano" were printed in large type on her forehead.
-
-As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers, and carefully
-re-read every one of her stories. Being a little short-sighted, Mr.
-Bhaer sometimes used eye-glasses, and Jo had tried them once, smiling to
-see how they magnified the fine print of her book; now she seemed to
-have got on the Professor's mental or moral spectacles also; for the
-faults of these poor stories glared at her dreadfully, and filled her
-with dismay.
-
-"They _are_ trash, and will soon be worse than trash if I go on; for
-each is more sensational than the last. I've gone blindly on, hurting
-myself and other people, for the sake of money; I know it's so, for I
-can't read this stuff in sober earnest without being horribly ashamed of
-it; and what _should_ I do if they were seen at home, or Mr. Bhaer got
-hold of them?"
-
-Jo turned hot at the bare idea, and stuffed the whole bundle into her
-stove, nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze.
-
-         [Illustration: Jo stuffed the whole bundle into the stove]
-
-"Yes, that's the best place for such inflammable nonsense; I'd better
-burn the house down, I suppose, than let other people blow themselves up
-with my gunpowder," she thought, as she watched the "Demon of the Jura"
-whisk away, a little black cinder with fiery eyes.
-
-But when nothing remained of all her three months' work except a heap of
-ashes, and the money in her lap, Jo looked sober, as she sat on the
-floor, wondering what she ought to do about her wages.
-
-"I think I haven't done much harm _yet_, and may keep this to pay for my
-time," she said, after a long meditation, adding impatiently, "I almost
-wish I hadn't any conscience, it's so inconvenient. If I didn't care
-about doing right, and didn't feel uncomfortable when doing wrong, I
-should get on capitally. I can't help wishing sometimes, that father and
-mother hadn't been so particular about such things."
-
-Ah, Jo, instead of wishing that, thank God that "father and mother
-_were_ particular," and pity from your heart those who have no such
-guardians to hedge them round with principles which may seem like
-prison-walls to impatient youth, but which will prove sure foundations
-to build character upon in womanhood.
-
-Jo wrote no more sensational stories, deciding that the money did not
-pay for her share of the sensation; but, going to the other extreme, as
-is the way with people of her stamp, she took a course of Mrs. Sherwood,
-Miss Edgeworth, and Hannah More; and then produced a tale which might
-have been more properly called an essay or a sermon, so intensely moral
-was it. She had her doubts about it from the beginning; for her lively
-fancy and girlish romance felt as ill at ease in the new style as she
-would have done masquerading in the stiff and cumbrous costume of the
-last century. She sent this didactic gem to several markets, but it
-found no purchaser; and she was inclined to agree with Mr. Dashwood,
-that morals didn't sell.
-
-Then she tried a child's story, which she could easily have disposed of
-if she had not been mercenary enough to demand filthy lucre for it. The
-only person who offered enough to make it worth her while to try
-juvenile literature was a worthy gentleman who felt it his mission to
-convert all the world to his particular belief. But much as she liked to
-write for children, Jo could not consent to depict all her naughty boys
-as being eaten by bears or tossed by mad bulls, because they did not go
-to a particular Sabbath-school, nor all the good infants, who did go, as
-rewarded by every kind of bliss, from gilded gingerbread to escorts of
-angels, when they departed this life with psalms or sermons on their
-lisping tongues. So nothing came of these trials; and Jo corked up her
-inkstand, and said, in a fit of very wholesome humility,--
-
-"I don't know anything; I'll wait till I do before I try again, and,
-meantime, 'sweep mud in the street,' if I can't do better; that's
-honest, at least;" which decision proved that her second tumble down the
-bean-stalk had done her some good.
-
-While these internal revolutions were going on, her external life had
-been as busy and uneventful as usual; and if she sometimes looked
-serious or a little sad no one observed it but Professor Bhaer. He did
-it so quietly that Jo never knew he was watching to see if she would
-accept and profit by his reproof; but she stood the test, and he was
-satisfied; for, though no words passed between them, he knew that she
-had given up writing. Not only did he guess it by the fact that the
-second finger of her right hand was no longer inky, but she spent her
-evenings downstairs now, was met no more among newspaper offices, and
-studied with a dogged patience, which assured him that she was bent on
-occupying her mind with something useful, if not pleasant.
-
-He helped her in many ways, proving himself a true friend, and Jo was
-happy; for, while her pen lay idle, she was learning other lessons
-beside German, and laying a foundation for the sensation story of her
-own life.
-
-It was a pleasant winter and a long one, for she did not leave Mrs.
-Kirke till June. Every one seemed sorry when the time came; the children
-were inconsolable, and Mr. Bhaer's hair stuck straight up all over his
-head, for he always rumpled it wildly when disturbed in mind.
-
-"Going home? Ah, you are happy that you haf a home to go in," he said,
-when she told him, and sat silently pulling his beard, in the corner,
-while she held a little levee on that last evening.
-
-She was going early, so she bade them all good-by over night; and when
-his turn came, she said warmly,--
-
-"Now, sir, you won't forget to come and see us, if you ever travel our
-way, will you? I'll never forgive you if you do, for I want them all to
-know my friend."
-
-"Do you? Shall I come?" he asked, looking down at her with an eager
-expression which she did not see.
-
-"Yes, come next month; Laurie graduates then, and you'd enjoy
-Commencement as something new."
-
-"That is your best friend, of whom you speak?" he said, in an altered
-tone.
-
-"Yes, my boy Teddy; I'm very proud of him, and should like you to see
-him."
-
-Jo looked up then, quite unconscious of anything but her own pleasure in
-the prospect of showing them to one another. Something in Mr. Bhaer's
-face suddenly recalled the fact that she might find Laurie more than a
-"best friend," and, simply because she particularly wished not to look
-as if anything was the matter, she involuntarily began to blush; and the
-more she tried not to, the redder she grew. If it had not been for Tina
-on her knee, she didn't know what would have become of her. Fortunately,
-the child was moved to hug her; so she managed to hide her face an
-instant, hoping the Professor did not see it. But he did, and his own
-changed again from that momentary anxiety to its usual expression, as he
-said cordially,--
-
-"I fear I shall not make the time for that, but I wish the friend much
-success, and you all happiness. Gott bless you!" and with that, he shook
-hands warmly, shouldered Tina, and went away.
-
-But after the boys were abed, he sat long before his fire, with the
-tired look on his face, and the "_heimweh_," or homesickness, lying
-heavy at his heart. Once, when he remembered Jo, as she sat with the
-little child in her lap and that new softness in her face, he leaned his
-head on his hands a minute, and then roamed about the room, as if in
-search of something that he could not find.
-
-"It is not for me; I must not hope it now," he said to himself, with a
-sigh that was almost a groan; then, as if reproaching himself for the
-longing that he could not repress, he went and kissed the two towzled
-heads upon the pillow, took down his seldom-used meerschaum, and opened
-his Plato.
-
-He did his best, and did it manfully; but I don't think he found that a
-pair of rampant boys, a pipe, or even the divine Plato, were very
-satisfactory substitutes for wife and child and home.
-
-Early as it was, he was at the station, next morning, to see Jo off;
-and, thanks to him, she began her solitary journey with the pleasant
-memory of a familiar face smiling its farewell, a bunch of violets to
-keep her company, and, best of all, the happy thought,--
-
-"Well, the winter's gone, and I've written no books, earned no fortune;
-but I've made a friend worth having, and I'll try to keep him all my
-life."
-
-
-
-
-          [Illustration: He put the sisters into the carriage]
-
-                                 XXXV.
-
-                               HEARTACHE.
-
-
-Whatever his motive might have been, Laurie studied to some purpose that
-year, for he graduated with honor, and gave the Latin oration with the
-grace of a Phillips and the eloquence of a Demosthenes, so his friends
-said. They were all there, his grandfather,--oh, so proud!--Mr. and Mrs.
-March, John and Meg, Jo and Beth, and all exulted over him with the
-sincere admiration which boys make light of at the time, but fail to win
-from the world by any after-triumphs.
-
-"I've got to stay for this confounded supper, but I shall be home early
-to-morrow; you'll come and meet me as usual, girls?" Laurie said, as he
-put the sisters into the carriage after the joys of the day were over.
-He said "girls," but he meant Jo, for she was the only one who kept up
-the old custom; she had not the heart to refuse her splendid, successful
-boy anything, and answered warmly,--
-
-"I'll come, Teddy, rain or shine, and march before you, playing '_Hail
-the conquering hero comes_,' on a jews-harp."
-
-Laurie thanked her with a look that made her think, in a sudden panic,
-"Oh, deary me! I know he'll say something, and then what shall I do?"
-
-Evening meditation and morning work somewhat allayed her fears, and
-having decided that she wouldn't be vain enough to think people were
-going to propose when she had given them every reason to know what her
-answer would be, she set forth at the appointed time, hoping Teddy
-wouldn't do anything to make her hurt his poor little feelings. A call
-at Meg's, and a refreshing sniff and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn,
-still further fortified her for the _tête-à-tête_, but when she saw a
-stalwart figure looming in the distance, she had a strong desire to turn
-about and run away.
-
-"Where's the jews-harp, Jo?" cried Laurie, as soon as he was within
-speaking distance.
-
-"I forgot it;" and Jo took heart again, for that salutation could not be
-called lover-like.
-
-She always used to take his arm on these occasions; now she did not, and
-he made no complaint, which was a bad sign, but talked on rapidly about
-all sorts of far-away subjects, till they turned from the road into the
-little path that led homeward through the grove. Then he walked more
-slowly, suddenly lost his fine flow of language, and, now and then, a
-dreadful pause occurred. To rescue the conversation from one of the
-wells of silence into which it kept falling, Jo said hastily,--
-
-"Now you must have a good long holiday!"
-
-"I intend to."
-
-Something in his resolute tone made Jo look up quickly to find him
-looking down at her with an expression that assured her the dreaded
-moment had come, and made her put out her hand with an imploring,--
-
-"No, Teddy, please don't!"
-
-"I will, and you _must_ hear me. It's no use, Jo; we've got to have it
-out, and the sooner the better for both of us," he answered, getting
-flushed and excited all at once.
-
-"Say what you like, then; I'll listen," said Jo, with a desperate sort
-of patience.
-
-Laurie was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to "have it
-out," if he died in the attempt; so he plunged into the subject with
-characteristic impetuosity, saying in a voice that _would_ get choky now
-and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady,--
-
-"I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo; couldn't help it, you've
-been so good to me. I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me; now
-I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I _can't_ go on
-so any longer."
-
-"I wanted to save you this; I thought you'd understand--" began Jo,
-finding it a great deal harder than she expected.
-
-"I know you did; but girls are so queer you never know what they mean.
-They say No when they mean Yes, and drive a man out of his wits just for
-the fun of it," returned Laurie, entrenching himself behind an
-undeniable fact.
-
-"_I_ don't. I never wanted to make you care for me so, and I went away
-to keep you from it if I could."
-
-"I thought so; it was like you, but it was no use. I only loved you all
-the more, and I worked hard to please you, and I gave up billiards and
-everything you didn't like, and waited and never complained, for I hoped
-you'd love me, though I'm not half good enough--" here there was a choke
-that couldn't be controlled, so he decapitated buttercups while he
-cleared his "confounded throat."
-
-"Yes, you are; you're a great deal too good for me, and I'm so grateful
-to you, and so proud and fond of you, I don't see why I can't love you
-as you want me to. I've tried, but I can't change the feeling, and it
-would be a lie to say I do when I don't."
-
-"Really, truly, Jo?"
-
-He stopped short, and caught both her hands as he put his question with
-a look that she did not soon forget.
-
-"Really, truly, dear."
-
-They were in the grove now, close by the stile; and when the last words
-fell reluctantly from Jo's lips, Laurie dropped her hands and turned as
-if to go on, but for once in his life that fence was too much for him;
-so he just laid his head down on the mossy post, and stood so still that
-Jo was frightened.
-
-        [Illustration: He laid his head down on the mossy post]
-
-"O Teddy, I'm so sorry, so desperately sorry, I could kill myself if it
-would do any good! I wish you wouldn't take it so hard. I can't help it;
-you know it's impossible for people to make themselves love other people
-if they don't," cried Jo inelegantly but remorsefully, as she softly
-patted his shoulder, remembering the time when he had comforted her so
-long ago.
-
-"They do sometimes," said a muffled voice from the post.
-
-"I don't believe it's the right sort of love, and I'd rather not try
-it," was the decided answer.
-
-There was a long pause, while a blackbird sung blithely on the willow by
-the river, and the tall grass rustled in the wind. Presently Jo said
-very soberly, as she sat down on the step of the stile,--
-
-"Laurie, I want to tell you something."
-
-He started as if he had been shot, threw up his head, and cried out, in
-a fierce tone--
-
-"_Don't_ tell me that, Jo; I can't bear it now!"
-
-"Tell what?" she asked, wondering at his violence.
-
-"That you love that old man."
-
-"What old man?" demanded Jo, thinking he must mean his grandfather.
-
-"That devilish Professor you were always writing about. If you say you
-love him, I know I shall do something desperate;" and he looked as if he
-would keep his word, as he clenched his hands, with a wrathful spark in
-his eyes.
-
-Jo wanted to laugh, but restrained herself, and said warmly, for she,
-too, was getting excited with all this,--
-
-"Don't swear, Teddy! He isn't old, nor anything bad, but good and kind,
-and the best friend I've got, next to you. Pray, don't fly into a
-passion; I want to be kind, but I know I shall get angry if you abuse my
-Professor. I haven't the least idea of loving him or anybody else."
-
-"But you will after a while, and then what will become of me?"
-
-"You'll love some one else too, like a sensible boy, and forget all this
-trouble."
-
-"I _can't_ love any one else; and I'll never forget you, Jo, never!
-never!" with a stamp to emphasize his passionate words.
-
-"What _shall_ I do with him?" sighed Jo, finding that emotions were more
-unmanageable than she expected. "You haven't heard what I wanted to tell
-you. Sit down and listen; for indeed I want to do right and make you
-happy," she said, hoping to soothe him with a little reason, which
-proved that she knew nothing about love.
-
-Seeing a ray of hope in that last speech, Laurie threw himself down on
-the grass at her feet, leaned his arm on the lower step of the stile,
-and looked up at her with an expectant face. Now that arrangement was
-not conducive to calm speech or clear thought on Jo's part; for how
-_could_ she say hard things to her boy while he watched her with eyes
-full of love and longing, and lashes still wet with the bitter drop or
-two her hardness of heart had wrung from him? She gently turned his head
-away, saying, as she stroked the wavy hair which had been allowed to
-grow for her sake,--how touching that was, to be sure!--
-
-"I agree with mother that you and I are not suited to each other,
-because our quick tempers and strong wills would probably make us very
-miserable, if we were so foolish as to--" Jo paused a little over the
-last word, but Laurie uttered it with a rapturous expression,--
-
-"Marry,--no, we shouldn't! If you loved me, Jo, I should be a perfect
-saint, for you could make me anything you like."
-
-"No, I can't. I've tried it and failed, and I won't risk our happiness
-by such a serious experiment. We don't agree and we never shall; so
-we'll be good friends all our lives, but we won't go and do anything
-rash."
-
-"Yes, we will if we get the chance," muttered Laurie rebelliously.
-
-"Now do be reasonable, and take a sensible view of the case," implored
-Jo, almost at her wit's end.
-
-"I won't be reasonable; I don't want to take what you call 'a sensible
-view;' it won't help me, and it only makes you harder. I don't believe
-you've got any heart."
-
-"I wish I hadn't!"
-
-There was a little quiver in Jo's voice, and, thinking it a good omen,
-Laurie turned round, bringing all his persuasive powers to bear as he
-said, in the wheedlesome tone that had never been so dangerously
-wheedlesome before,--
-
-"Don't disappoint us, dear! Every one expects it. Grandpa has set his
-heart upon it, your people like it, and I can't get on without you. Say
-you will, and let's be happy. Do, do!"
-
-Not until months afterward did Jo understand how she had the strength of
-mind to hold fast to the resolution she had made when she decided that
-she did not love her boy, and never could. It was very hard to do, but
-she did it, knowing that delay was both useless and cruel.
-
-"I can't say 'Yes' truly, so I won't say it at all. You'll see that I'm
-right, by and by, and thank me for it"--she began solemnly.
-
-"I'll be hanged if I do!" and Laurie bounced up off the grass, burning
-with indignation at the bare idea.
-
-"Yes, you will!" persisted Jo; "you'll get over this after a while, and
-find some lovely, accomplished girl, who will adore you, and make a fine
-mistress for your fine house. I shouldn't. I'm homely and awkward and
-odd and old, and you'd be ashamed of me, and we should quarrel,--we
-can't help it even now, you see,--and I shouldn't like elegant society
-and you would, and you'd hate my scribbling, and I couldn't get on
-without it, and we should be unhappy, and wish we hadn't done it, and
-everything would be horrid!"
-
-"Anything more?" asked Laurie, finding it hard to listen patiently to
-this prophetic burst.
-
-"Nothing more, except that I don't believe I shall ever marry. I'm happy
-as I am, and love my liberty too well to be in any hurry to give it up
-for any mortal man."
-
-"I know better!" broke in Laurie. "You think so now; but there'll come a
-time when you _will_ care for somebody, and you'll love him
-tremendously, and live and die for him. I know you will, it's your way,
-and I shall have to stand by and see it;" and the despairing lover cast
-his hat upon the ground with a gesture that would have seemed comical,
-if his face had not been so tragical.
-
-"Yes, I _will_ live and die for him, if he ever comes and makes me love
-him in spite of myself, and you must do the best you can!" cried Jo,
-losing patience with poor Teddy. "I've done my best, but you _won't_ be
-reasonable, and it's selfish of you to keep teasing for what I can't
-give. I shall always be fond of you, very fond indeed, as a friend, but
-I'll never marry you; and the sooner you believe it, the better for both
-of us,--so now!"
-
-That speech was like fire to gunpowder. Laurie looked at her a minute as
-if he did not quite know what to do with himself, then turned sharply
-away, saying, in a desperate sort of tone,--
-
-"You'll be sorry some day, Jo."
-
-"Oh, where are you going?" she cried, for his face frightened her.
-
-"To the devil!" was the consoling answer.
-
-For a minute Jo's heart stood still, as he swung himself down the bank,
-toward the river; but it takes much folly, sin, or misery to send a
-young man to a violent death, and Laurie was not one of the weak sort
-who are conquered by a single failure. He had no thought of a
-melodramatic plunge, but some blind instinct led him to fling hat and
-coat into his boat, and row away with all his might, making better time
-up the river than he had done in many a race. Jo drew a long breath and
-unclasped her hands as she watched the poor fellow trying to outstrip
-the trouble which he carried in his heart.
-
-"That will do him good, and he'll come home in such a tender, penitent
-state of mind, that I sha'n't dare to see him," she said; adding, as she
-went slowly home, feeling as if she had murdered some innocent thing,
-and buried it under the leaves,--
-
-"Now I must go and prepare Mr. Laurence to be very kind to my poor boy.
-I wish he'd love Beth; perhaps he may, in time, but I begin to think I
-was mistaken about her. Oh dear! how can girls like to have lovers and
-refuse them. I think it's dreadful."
-
-Being sure that no one could do it so well as herself, she went straight
-to Mr. Laurence, told the hard story bravely through, and then broke
-down, crying so dismally over her own insensibility that the kind old
-gentleman, though sorely disappointed, did not utter a reproach. He
-found it difficult to understand how any girl could help loving Laurie,
-and hoped she would change her mind, but he knew even better than Jo
-that love cannot be forced, so he shook his head sadly, and resolved to
-carry his boy out of harm's way; for Young Impetuosity's parting words
-to Jo disturbed him more than he would confess.
-
-When Laurie came home, dead tired, but quite composed, his grandfather
-met him as if he knew nothing, and kept up the delusion very
-successfully for an hour or two. But when they sat together in the
-twilight, the time they used to enjoy so much, it was hard work for the
-old man to ramble on as usual, and harder still for the young one to
-listen to praises of the last year's success, which to him now seemed
-love's labor lost. He bore it as long as he could, then went to his
-piano, and began to play. The windows were open; and Jo, walking in the
-garden with Beth, for once understood music better than her sister, for
-he played the "Sonata Pathétique," and played it as he never did before.
-
-"That's very fine, I dare say, but it's sad enough to make one cry; give
-us something gayer, lad," said Mr. Laurence, whose kind old heart was
-full of sympathy, which he longed to show, but knew not how.
-
-Laurie dashed into a livelier strain, played stormily for several
-minutes, and would have got through bravely, if, in a momentary lull,
-Mrs. March's voice had not been heard calling,--
-
-"Jo, dear, come in; I want you."
-
-Just what Laurie longed to say, with a different meaning! As he
-listened, he lost his place; the music ended with a broken chord, and
-the musician sat silent in the dark.
-
-"I can't stand this," muttered the old gentleman. Up he got, groped his
-way to the piano, laid a kind hand on either of the broad shoulders, and
-said, as gently as a woman,--
-
-"I know, my boy, I know."
-
-No answer for an instant; then Laurie asked sharply,--
-
-"Who told you?"
-
-"Jo herself."
-
-"Then there's an end of it!" and he shook off his grandfather's hands
-with an impatient motion; for, though grateful for the sympathy, his
-man's pride could not bear a man's pity.
-
-"Not quite; I want to say one thing, and then there shall be an end of
-it," returned Mr. Laurence, with unusual mildness. "You won't care to
-stay at home just now, perhaps?"
-
-"I don't intend to run away from a girl. Jo can't prevent my seeing her,
-and I shall stay and do it as long as I like," interrupted Laurie, in a
-defiant tone.
-
-"Not if you are the gentleman I think you. I'm disappointed, but the
-girl can't help it; and the only thing left for you to do is to go away
-for a time. Where will you go?"
-
-"Anywhere. I don't care what becomes of me;" and Laurie got up, with a
-reckless laugh, that grated on his grandfather's ear.
-
-"Take it like a man, and don't do anything rash, for God's sake. Why not
-go abroad, as you planned, and forget it?"
-
-"I can't."
-
-"But you've been wild to go, and I promised you should when you got
-through college."
-
-"Ah, but I didn't mean to go alone!" and Laurie walked fast through the
-room, with an expression which it was well his grandfather did not see.
-
-"I don't ask you to go alone; there's some one ready and glad to go with
-you, anywhere in the world."
-
-"Who, sir?" stopping to listen.
-
-"Myself."
-
-Laurie came back as quickly as he went, and put out his hand, saying
-huskily,--
-
-"I'm a selfish brute; but--you know--grandfather--"
-
-"Lord help me, yes, I do know, for I've been through it all before, once
-in my own young days, and then with your father. Now, my dear boy, just
-sit quietly down, and hear my plan. It's all settled, and can be carried
-out at once," said Mr. Laurence, keeping hold of the young man, as if
-fearful that he would break away, as his father had done before him.
-
-"Well, sir, what is it?" and Laurie sat down, without a sign of interest
-in face or voice.
-
-"There is business in London that needs looking after; I meant you
-should attend to it; but I can do it better myself, and things here will
-get on very well with Brooke to manage them. My partners do almost
-everything; I'm merely holding on till you take my place, and can be off
-at any time."
-
-"But you hate travelling, sir; I can't ask it of you at your age," began
-Laurie, who was grateful for the sacrifice, but much preferred to go
-alone, if he went at all.
-
-The old gentleman knew that perfectly well, and particularly desired to
-prevent it; for the mood in which he found his grandson assured him that
-it would not be wise to leave him to his own devices. So, stifling a
-natural regret at the thought of the home comforts he would leave behind
-him, he said stoutly,--
-
-"Bless your soul, I'm not superannuated yet. I quite enjoy the idea; it
-will do me good, and my old bones won't suffer, for travelling nowadays
-is almost as easy as sitting in a chair."
-
-A restless movement from Laurie suggested that _his_ chair was not easy,
-or that he did not like the plan, and made the old man add hastily,--
-
-"I don't mean to be a marplot or a burden; I go because I think you'd
-feel happier than if I was left behind. I don't intend to gad about with
-you, but leave you free to go where you like, while I amuse myself in my
-own way. I've friends in London and Paris, and should like to visit
-them; meantime you can go to Italy, Germany, Switzerland, where you
-will, and enjoy pictures, music, scenery, and adventures to your heart's
-content."
-
-Now, Laurie felt just then that his heart was entirely broken, and the
-world a howling wilderness; but at the sound of certain words which the
-old gentleman artfully introduced into his closing sentence, the broken
-heart gave an unexpected leap, and a green oasis or two suddenly
-appeared in the howling wilderness. He sighed, and then said, in a
-spiritless tone,--
-
-"Just as you like, sir; it doesn't matter where I go or what I do."
-
-"It does to me, remember that, my lad; I give you entire liberty, but I
-trust you to make an honest use of it. Promise me that, Laurie."
-
-"Anything you like, sir."
-
-"Good," thought the old gentleman. "You don't care now, but there'll
-come a time when that promise will keep you out of mischief, or I'm much
-mistaken."
-
-Being an energetic individual, Mr. Laurence struck while the iron was
-hot; and before the blighted being recovered spirit enough to rebel,
-they were off. During the time necessary for preparation, Laurie bore
-himself as young gentlemen usually do in such cases. He was moody,
-irritable, and pensive by turns; lost his appetite, neglected his dress,
-and devoted much time to playing tempestuously on his piano; avoided Jo,
-but consoled himself by staring at her from his window, with a tragical
-face that haunted her dreams by night, and oppressed her with a heavy
-sense of guilt by day. Unlike some sufferers, he never spoke of his
-unrequited passion, and would allow no one, not even Mrs. March, to
-attempt consolation or offer sympathy. On some accounts, this was a
-relief to his friends; but the weeks before his departure were very
-uncomfortable, and every one rejoiced that the "poor, dear fellow was
-going away to forget his trouble, and come home happy." Of course, he
-smiled darkly at their delusion, but passed it by, with the sad
-superiority of one who knew that his fidelity, like his love, was
-unalterable.
-
-When the parting came he affected high spirits, to conceal certain
-inconvenient emotions which seemed inclined to assert themselves. This
-gayety did not impose upon anybody, but they tried to look as if it did,
-for his sake, and he got on very well till Mrs. March kissed him, with
-a whisper full of motherly solicitude; then, feeling that he was going
-very fast, he hastily embraced them all round, not forgetting the
-afflicted Hannah, and ran downstairs as if for his life. Jo followed a
-minute after to wave her hand to him if he looked round. He did look
-round, came back, put his arms about her, as she stood on the step above
-him, and looked up at her with a face that made his short appeal both
-eloquent and pathetic.
-
-"O Jo, can't you?"
-
-                    [Illustration: O Jo, can't you?]
-
-"Teddy, dear, I wish I could!"
-
-That was all, except a little pause; then Laurie straightened himself
-up, said "It's all right, never mind," and went away without another
-word. Ah, but it wasn't all right, and Jo _did_ mind; for while the
-curly head lay on her arm a minute after her hard answer, she felt as if
-she had stabbed her dearest friend; and when he left her without a look
-behind him, she knew that the boy Laurie never would come again.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                                 XXXVI.
-
-                             BETH'S SECRET.
-
-
-When Jo came home that spring, she had been struck with the change in
-Beth. No one spoke of it or seemed aware of it, for it had come too
-gradually to startle those who saw her daily; but to eyes sharpened by
-absence, it was very plain; and a heavy weight fell on Jo's heart as she
-saw her sister's face. It was no paler and but little thinner than in
-the autumn; yet there was a strange, transparent look about it, as if
-the mortal was being slowly refined away, and the immortal shining
-through the frail flesh with an indescribably pathetic beauty. Jo saw
-and felt it, but said nothing at the time, and soon the first impression
-lost much of its power; for Beth seemed happy, no one appeared to doubt
-that she was better; and, presently, in other cares, Jo for a time
-forgot her fear.
-
-But when Laurie was gone, and peace prevailed again, the vague anxiety
-returned and haunted her. She had confessed her sins and been forgiven;
-but when she showed her savings and proposed the mountain trip, Beth had
-thanked her heartily, but begged not to go so far away from home.
-Another little visit to the seashore would suit her better, and, as
-grandma could not be prevailed upon to leave the babies, Jo took Beth
-down to the quiet place, where she could live much in the open air, and
-let the fresh sea-breezes blow a little color into her pale cheeks.
-
-It was not a fashionable place, but, even among the pleasant people
-there, the girls made few friends, preferring to live for one another.
-Beth was too shy to enjoy society, and Jo too wrapped up in her to care
-for any one else; so they were all in all to each other, and came and
-went, quite unconscious of the interest they excited in those about
-them, who watched with sympathetic eyes the strong sister and the feeble
-one, always together, as if they felt instinctively that a long
-separation was not far away.
-
-They did feel it, yet neither spoke of it; for often between ourselves
-and those nearest and dearest to us there exists a reserve which it is
-very hard to overcome. Jo felt as if a veil had fallen between her heart
-and Beth's; but when she put out her hand to lift it up, there seemed
-something sacred in the silence, and she waited for Beth to speak. She
-wondered, and was thankful also, that her parents did not seem to see
-what she saw; and, during the quiet weeks, when the shadow grew so plain
-to her, she said nothing of it to those at home, believing that it would
-tell itself when Beth came back no better. She wondered still more if
-her sister really guessed the hard truth, and what thoughts were passing
-through her mind during the long hours when she lay on the warm rocks,
-with her head in Jo's lap, while the winds blew healthfully over her,
-and the sea made music at her feet.
-
-     [Illustration: With her head in Jo's lap, while the wind blew
-                        healthfully over her]
-
-One day Beth told her. Jo thought she was asleep, she lay so still; and,
-putting down her book, sat looking at her with wistful eyes, trying to
-see signs of hope in the faint color on Beth's cheeks. But she could not
-find enough to satisfy her, for the cheeks were very thin, and the hands
-seemed too feeble to hold even the rosy little shells they had been
-gathering. It came to her then more bitterly than ever that Beth was
-slowly drifting away from her, and her arms instinctively tightened
-their hold upon the dearest treasure she possessed. For a minute her
-eyes were too dim for seeing, and, when they cleared, Beth was looking
-up at her so tenderly that there was hardly any need for her to say,--
-
-"Jo, dear, I'm glad you know it. I've tried to tell you, but I
-couldn't."
-
-There was no answer except her sister's cheek against her own, not even
-tears; for when most deeply moved, Jo did not cry. She was the weaker,
-then, and Beth tried to comfort and sustain her, with her arms about
-her, and the soothing words she whispered in her ear.
-
-"I've known it for a good while, dear, and, now I'm used to it, it isn't
-hard to think of or to bear. Try to see it so, and don't be troubled
-about me, because it's best; indeed it is."
-
-"Is this what made you so unhappy in the autumn, Beth? You did not feel
-it then, and keep it to yourself so long, did you?" asked Jo, refusing
-to see or say that it _was_ best, but glad to know that Laurie had no
-part in Beth's trouble.
-
-"Yes, I gave up hoping then, but I didn't like to own it. I tried to
-think it was a sick fancy, and would not let it trouble any one. But
-when I saw you all so well and strong, and full of happy plans, it was
-hard to feel that I could never be like you, and then I was miserable,
-Jo."
-
-"O Beth, and you didn't tell me, didn't let me comfort and help you! How
-could you shut me out, and bear it all alone?"
-
-Jo's voice was full of tender reproach, and her heart ached to think of
-the solitary struggle that must have gone on while Beth learned to say
-good-by to health, love, and life, and take up her cross so cheerfully.
-
-"Perhaps it was wrong, but I tried to do right; I wasn't sure, no one
-said anything, and I hoped I was mistaken. It would have been selfish to
-frighten you all when Marmee was so anxious about Meg, and Amy away, and
-you so happy with Laurie,--at least, I thought so then."
-
-"And I thought that you loved him, Beth, and I went away because I
-couldn't," cried Jo, glad to say all the truth.
-
-Beth looked so amazed at the idea that Jo smiled in spite of her pain,
-and added softly,--
-
-"Then you didn't, deary? I was afraid it was so, and imagined your poor
-little heart full of love-lornity all that while."
-
-"Why, Jo, how could I, when he was so fond of you?" asked Beth, as
-innocently as a child. "I do love him dearly; he is so good to me, how
-can I help it? But he never could be anything to me but my brother. I
-hope he truly will be, sometime."
-
-"Not through me," said Jo decidedly. "Amy is left for him, and they
-would suit excellently; but I have no heart for such things, now. I
-don't care what becomes of anybody but you, Beth. You _must_ get well."
-
-"I want to, oh, so much! I try, but every day I lose a little, and feel
-more sure that I shall never gain it back. It's like the tide, Jo, when
-it turns, it goes slowly, but it can't be stopped."
-
-"It _shall_ be stopped, your tide must not turn so soon, nineteen is too
-young. Beth, I can't let you go. I'll work and pray and fight against
-it. I'll keep you in spite of everything; there must be ways, it can't
-be too late. God won't be so cruel as to take you from me," cried poor
-Jo rebelliously, for her spirit was far less piously submissive than
-Beth's.
-
-Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety; it shows itself
-in acts, rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or
-protestations. Beth could not reason upon or explain the faith that gave
-her courage and patience to give up life, and cheerfully wait for death.
-Like a confiding child, she asked no questions, but left everything to
-God and nature, Father and mother of us all, feeling sure that they, and
-they only, could teach and strengthen heart and spirit for this life and
-the life to come. She did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only
-loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to
-the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned,
-but through which He draws us closer to Himself. She could not say, "I'm
-glad to go," for life was very sweet to her; she could only sob out, "I
-try to be willing," while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave
-of this great sorrow broke over them together.
-
-By and by Beth said, with recovered serenity,--
-
-"You'll tell them this when we go home?"
-
-"I think they will see it without words," sighed Jo; for now it seemed
-to her that Beth changed every day.
-
-"Perhaps not; I've heard that the people who love best are often
-blindest to such things. If they don't see it, you will tell them for
-me. I don't want any secrets, and it's kinder to prepare them. Meg has
-John and the babies to comfort her, but you must stand by father and
-mother, won't you, Jo?"
-
-"If I can; but, Beth, I don't give up yet; I'm going to believe that it
-_is_ a sick fancy, and not let you think it's true," said Jo, trying to
-speak cheerfully.
-
-Beth lay a minute thinking, and then said in her quiet way,--
-
-"I don't know how to express myself, and shouldn't try, to any one but
-you, because I can't speak out, except to my Jo. I only mean to say
-that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm
-not like the rest of you; I never made any plans about what I'd do when
-I grew up; I never thought of being married, as you all did. I couldn't
-seem to imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth, trotting about
-at home, of no use anywhere but there. I never wanted to go away, and
-the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems
-as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven."
-
-Jo could not speak; and for several minutes there was no sound but the
-sigh of the wind and the lapping of the tide. A white-winged gull flew
-by, with the flash of sunshine on its silvery breast; Beth watched it
-till it vanished, and her eyes were full of sadness. A little
-gray-coated sand-bird came tripping over the beach, "peeping" softly to
-itself, as if enjoying the sun and sea; it came quite close to Beth,
-looked at her with a friendly eye, and sat upon a warm stone, dressing
-its wet feathers, quite at home. Beth smiled, and felt comforted, for
-the tiny thing seemed to offer its small friendship, and remind her that
-a pleasant world was still to be enjoyed.
-
-"Dear little bird! See, Jo, how tame it is. I like peeps better than the
-gulls: they are not so wild and handsome, but they seem happy, confiding
-little things. I used to call them my birds, last summer; and mother
-said they reminded her of me,--busy, quaker-colored creatures, always
-near the shore, and always chirping that contented little song of
-theirs. You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the
-wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone. Meg is the
-turtle-dove, and Amy is like the lark she writes about, trying to get up
-among the clouds, but always dropping down into its nest again. Dear
-little girl! she's so ambitious, but her heart is good and tender; and
-no matter how high she flies, she never will forget home. I hope I shall
-see her again, but she seems _so_ far away."
-
-"She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to
-see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time,"
-began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change
-was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought
-aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth.
-
-"Jo, dear, don't hope any more; it won't do any good, I'm sure of that.
-We won't be miserable, but enjoy being together while we wait. We'll
-have happy times, for I don't suffer much, and I think the tide will go
-out easily, if you help me."
-
-Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face; and with that silent kiss, she
-dedicated herself soul and body to Beth.
-
-She was right: there was no need of any words when they got home, for
-father and mother saw plainly, now, what they had prayed to be saved
-from seeing. Tired with her short journey, Beth went at once to bed,
-saying how glad she was to be at home; and when Jo went down, she found
-that she would be spared the hard task of telling Beth's secret. Her
-father stood leaning his head on the mantel-piece, and did not turn as
-she came in; but her mother stretched out her arms as if for help, and
-Jo went to comfort her without a word.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-             [Illustration: He hurried forward to meet her]
-
-                                XXXVII.
-
-                            NEW IMPRESSIONS.
-
-
-At three o'clock in the afternoon, all the fashionable world at Nice may
-be seen on the Promenade des Anglais,--a charming place; for the wide
-walk, bordered with palms, flowers, and tropical shrubs, is bounded on
-one side by the sea, on the other by the grand drive, lined with hotels
-and villas, while beyond lie orange-orchards and the hills. Many nations
-are represented, many languages spoken, many costumes worn; and, on a
-sunny day, the spectacle is as gay and brilliant as a carnival. Haughty
-English, lively French, sober Germans, handsome Spaniards, ugly
-Russians, meek Jews, free-and-easy Americans, all drive, sit, or saunter
-here, chatting over the news, and criticising the latest celebrity who
-has arrived,--Ristori or Dickens, Victor Emmanuel or the Queen of the
-Sandwich Islands. The equipages are as varied as the company, and
-attract as much attention, especially the low basket-barouches in which
-ladies drive themselves, with a pair of dashing ponies, gay nets to keep
-their voluminous flounces from overflowing the diminutive vehicles, and
-little grooms on the perch behind.
-
-Along this walk, on Christmas Day, a tall young man walked slowly, with
-his hands behind him, and a somewhat absent expression of countenance.
-He looked like an Italian, was dressed like an Englishman, and had the
-independent air of an American,--a combination which caused sundry pairs
-of feminine eyes to look approvingly after him, and sundry dandies in
-black velvet suits, with rose-colored neckties, buff gloves, and
-orange-flowers in their button-holes, to shrug their shoulders, and then
-envy him his inches. There were plenty of pretty faces to admire, but
-the young man took little notice of them, except to glance, now and
-then, at some blonde girl, or lady in blue. Presently he strolled out of
-the promenade, and stood a moment at the crossing, as if undecided
-whether to go and listen to the band in the Jardin Publique, or to
-wander along the beach toward Castle Hill. The quick trot of ponies'
-feet made him look up, as one of the little carriages, containing a
-single lady, came rapidly down the street. The lady was young, blonde,
-and dressed in blue. He stared a minute, then his whole face woke up,
-and, waving his hat like a boy, he hurried forward to meet her.
-
-"O Laurie, is it really you? I thought you'd never come!" cried Amy,
-dropping the reins, and holding out both hands, to the great
-scandalization of a French mamma, who hastened her daughter's steps,
-lest she should be demoralized by beholding the free manners of these
-"mad English."
-
-"I was detained by the way, but I promised to spend Christmas with you,
-and here I am."
-
-"How is your grandfather? When did you come? Where are you staying?"
-
-"Very well--last night--at the Chauvain. I called at your hotel, but you
-were all out."
-
-"I have so much to say, I don't know where to begin! Get in, and we can
-talk at our ease; I was going for a drive, and longing for company.
-Flo's saving up for to-night."
-
-"What happens then, a ball?"
-
-"A Christmas party at our hotel. There are many Americans there, and
-they give it in honor of the day. You'll go with us, of course? Aunt
-will be charmed."
-
-"Thank you. Where now?" asked Laurie, leaning back and folding his arms,
-a proceeding which suited Amy, who preferred to drive; for her
-parasol-whip and blue reins over the white ponies' backs, afforded her
-infinite satisfaction.
-
-"I'm going to the banker's first, for letters, and then to Castle Hill;
-the view is so lovely, and I like to feed the peacocks. Have you ever
-been there?"
-
-"Often, years ago; but I don't mind having a look at it."
-
-"Now tell me all about yourself. The last I heard of you, your
-grandfather wrote that he expected you from Berlin."
-
-"Yes, I spent a month there, and then joined him in Paris, where he has
-settled for the winter. He has friends there, and finds plenty to amuse
-him; so I go and come, and we get on capitally."
-
-"That's a sociable arrangement," said Amy, missing something in Laurie's
-manner, though she couldn't tell what.
-
-"Why, you see he hates to travel, and I hate to keep still; so we each
-suit ourselves, and there is no trouble. I am often with him, and he
-enjoys my adventures, while I like to feel that some one is glad to see
-me when I get back from my wanderings. Dirty old hole, isn't it?" he
-added, with a look of disgust, as they drove along the boulevard to the
-Place Napoleon, in the old city.
-
-"The dirt is picturesque, so I don't mind. The river and the hills are
-delicious, and these glimpses of the narrow cross-streets are my
-delight. Now we shall have to wait for that procession to pass; it's
-going to the Church of St. John."
-
-While Laurie listlessly watched the procession of priests under their
-canopies, white-veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers, and some brotherhood
-in blue, chanting as they walked, Amy watched him, and felt a new sort
-of shyness steal over her; for he was changed, and she could not find
-the merry-faced boy she left in the moody-looking man beside her. He was
-handsomer than ever, and greatly improved, she thought; but now that the
-flush of pleasure at meeting her was over, he looked tired and
-spiritless,--not sick, nor exactly unhappy, but older and graver than a
-year or two of prosperous life should have made him. She couldn't
-understand it, and did not venture to ask questions; so she shook her
-head, and touched up her ponies, as the procession wound away across the
-arches of the Paglioni bridge, and vanished in the church.
-
-"_Que pensez vous_?" she said, airing her French, which had improved in
-quantity, if not in quality, since she came abroad.
-
-"That mademoiselle has made good use of her time, and the result is
-charming," replied Laurie, bowing, with his hand on his heart, and an
-admiring look.
-
-She blushed with pleasure, but somehow the compliment did not satisfy
-her like the blunt praises he used to give her at home, when he
-promenaded round her on festival occasions, and told her she was
-"altogether jolly," with a hearty smile and an approving pat on the
-head. She didn't like the new tone; for, though not _blasé_, it sounded
-indifferent in spite of the look.
-
-"If that's the way he's going to grow up, I wish he'd stay a boy," she
-thought, with a curious sense of disappointment and discomfort, trying
-meantime to seem quite easy and gay.
-
-At Avigdor's she found the precious home-letters, and, giving the reins
-to Laurie, read them luxuriously as they wound up the shady road between
-green hedges, where tea-roses bloomed as freshly as in June.
-
-"Beth is very poorly, mother says. I often think I ought to go home, but
-they all say 'stay;' so I do, for I shall never have another chance like
-this," said Amy, looking sober over one page.
-
-"I think you are right, there; you could do nothing at home, and it is a
-great comfort to them to know that you are well and happy, and enjoying
-so much, my dear."
-
-He drew a little nearer, and looked more like his old self, as he said
-that; and the fear that sometimes weighed on Amy's heart was lightened,
-for the look, the act, the brotherly "my dear," seemed to assure her
-that if any trouble did come, she would not be alone in a strange land.
-Presently she laughed, and showed him a small sketch of Jo in her
-scribbling-suit, with the bow rampantly erect upon her cap, and issuing
-from her mouth the words, "Genius burns!"
-
-Laurie smiled, took it, put it in his vest-pocket, "to keep it from
-blowing away," and listened with interest to the lively letter Amy read
-him.
-
-"This will be a regularly merry Christmas to me, with presents in the
-morning, you and letters in the afternoon, and a party at night," said
-Amy, as they alighted among the ruins of the old fort, and a flock of
-splendid peacocks came trooping about them, tamely waiting to be fed.
-While Amy stood laughing on the bank above him as she scattered crumbs
-to the brilliant birds, Laurie looked at her as she had looked at him,
-with a natural curiosity to see what changes time and absence had
-wrought. He found nothing to perplex or disappoint, much to admire and
-approve; for, overlooking a few little affectations of speech and
-manner, she was as sprightly and graceful as ever, with the addition of
-that indescribable something in dress and bearing which we call
-elegance. Always mature for her age, she had gained a certain _aplomb_
-in both carriage and conversation, which made her seem more of a woman
-of the world than she was; but her old petulance now and then showed
-itself, her strong will still held its own, and her native frankness was
-unspoiled by foreign polish.
-
-Laurie did not read all this while he watched her feed the peacocks, but
-he saw enough to satisfy and interest him, and carried away a pretty
-little picture of a bright-faced girl standing in the sunshine, which
-brought out the soft hue of her dress, the fresh color of her cheeks,
-the golden gloss of her hair, and made her a prominent figure in the
-pleasant scene.
-
-As they came up on to the stone plateau that crowns the hill, Amy waved
-her hand as if welcoming him to her favorite haunt, and said, pointing
-here and there,--
-
-"Do you remember the Cathedral and the Corso, the fishermen dragging
-their nets in the bay, and the lovely road to Villa Franca, Schubert's
-Tower, just below, and, best of all, that speck far out to sea which
-they say is Corsica?"
-
-"I remember; it's not much changed," he answered, without enthusiasm.
-
-"What Jo would give for a sight of that famous speck!" said Amy, feeling
-in good spirits, and anxious to see him so also.
-
-"Yes," was all he said, but he turned and strained his eyes to see the
-island which a greater usurper than even Napoleon now made interesting
-in his sight.
-
-"Take a good look at it for her sake, and then come and tell me what you
-have been doing with yourself all this while," said Amy, seating
-herself, ready for a good talk.
-
-But she did not get it; for, though he joined her, and answered all her
-questions freely, she could only learn that he had roved about the
-continent and been to Greece. So, after idling away an hour, they drove
-home again; and, having paid his respects to Mrs. Carrol, Laurie left
-them, promising to return in the evening.
-
-It must be recorded of Amy that she deliberately "prinked" that night.
-Time and absence had done its work on both the young people; she had
-seen her old friend in a new light, not as "our boy," but as a handsome
-and agreeable man, and she was conscious of a very natural desire to
-find favor in his sight. Amy knew her good points, and made the most of
-them, with the taste and skill which is a fortune to a poor and pretty
-woman.
-
-Tarlatan and tulle were cheap at Nice, so she enveloped herself in them
-on such occasions, and, following the sensible English fashion of simple
-dress for young girls, got up charming little toilettes with fresh
-flowers, a few trinkets, and all manner of dainty devices, which were
-both inexpensive and effective. It must be confessed that the artist
-sometimes got possession of the woman, and indulged in antique
-_coiffures_, statuesque attitudes, and classic draperies. But, dear
-heart, we all have our little weaknesses, and find it easy to pardon
-such in the young, who satisfy our eyes with their comeliness, and keep
-our hearts merry with their artless vanities.
-
-"I do want him to think I look well, and tell them so at home," said Amy
-to herself, as she put on Flo's old white silk ball-dress, and covered
-it with a cloud of fresh illusion, out of which her white shoulders and
-golden head emerged with a most artistic effect. Her hair she had the
-sense to let alone, after gathering up the thick waves and curls into a
-Hebe-like knot at the back of her head.
-
-"It's not the fashion, but it's becoming, and I can't afford to make a
-fright of myself," she used to say, when advised to frizzle, puff, or
-braid, as the latest style commanded.
-
-Having no ornaments fine enough for this important occasion, Amy looped
-her fleecy skirts with rosy clusters of azalea, and framed the white
-shoulders in delicate green vines. Remembering the painted boots, she
-surveyed her white satin slippers with girlish satisfaction, and
-_chasséed_ down the room, admiring her aristocratic feet all by herself.
-
-"My new fan just matches my flowers, my gloves fit to a charm, and the
-real lace on aunt's _mouchoir_ gives an air to my whole dress. If I only
-had a classical nose and mouth I should be perfectly happy," she said,
-surveying herself with a critical eye, and a candle in each hand.
-
-In spite of this affliction, she looked unusually gay and graceful as
-she glided away; she seldom ran,--it did not suit her style, she
-thought, for, being tall, the stately and Junoesque was more appropriate
-than the sportive or piquante. She walked up and down the long saloon
-while waiting for Laurie, and once arranged herself under the
-chandelier, which had a good effect upon her hair; then she thought
-better of it, and went away to the other end of the room, as if ashamed
-of the girlish desire to have the first view a propitious one. It so
-happened that she could not have done a better thing, for Laurie came in
-so quietly she did not hear him; and, as she stood at the distant
-window, with her head half turned, and one hand gathering up her dress,
-the slender, white figure against the red curtains was as effective as a
-well-placed statue.
-
-"Good evening, Diana!" said Laurie, with the look of satisfaction she
-liked to see in his eyes when they rested on her.
-
-"Good evening, Apollo!" she answered, smiling back at him, for he, too,
-looked unusually _debonnaire_, and the thought of entering the ball-room
-on the arm of such a personable man caused Amy to pity the four plain
-Misses Davis from the bottom of her heart.
-
-"Here are your flowers; I arranged them myself, remembering that you
-didn't like what Hannah calls a 'sot-bookay,'" said Laurie, handing her
-a delicate nosegay, in a holder that she had long coveted as she daily
-passed it in Cardiglia's window.
-
-                  [Illustration: Here are your flowers]
-
-"How kind you are!" she exclaimed gratefully. "If I'd known you were
-coming I'd have had something ready for you to-day, though not as pretty
-as this, I'm afraid."
-
-"Thank you; it isn't what it should be, but you have improved it," he
-added, as she snapped the silver bracelet on her wrist.
-
-"Please don't."
-
-"I thought you liked that sort of thing?"
-
-"Not from you; it doesn't sound natural, and I like your old bluntness
-better."
-
-"I'm glad of it," he answered, with a look of relief; then buttoned her
-gloves for her, and asked if his tie was straight, just as he used to do
-when they went to parties together, at home.
-
-The company assembled in the long _salle à manger_, that evening, was
-such as one sees nowhere but on the Continent. The hospitable Americans
-had invited every acquaintance they had in Nice, and, having no
-prejudice against titles, secured a few to add lustre to their Christmas
-ball.
-
-A Russian prince condescended to sit in a corner for an hour, and talk
-with a massive lady, dressed like Hamlet's mother, in black velvet, with
-a pearl bridle under her chin. A Polish count, aged eighteen, devoted
-himself to the ladies, who pronounced him "a fascinating dear," and a
-German Serene Something, having come for the supper alone, roamed
-vaguely about, seeking what he might devour. Baron Rothschild's private
-secretary, a large-nosed Jew, in tight boots, affably beamed upon the
-world, as if his master's name crowned him with a golden halo; a stout
-Frenchman, who knew the Emperor, came to indulge his mania for dancing,
-and Lady de Jones, a British matron, adorned the scene with her little
-family of eight. Of course, there were many light-footed, shrill-voiced
-American girls, handsome, lifeless-looking English ditto, and a few
-plain but piquante French demoiselles; likewise the usual set of
-travelling young gentlemen, who disported themselves gayly, while mammas
-of all nations lined the walls, and smiled upon them benignly when they
-danced with their daughters.
-
-Any young girl can imagine Amy's state of mind when she "took the stage"
-that night, leaning on Laurie's arm. She knew she looked well, she loved
-to dance, she felt that her foot was on her native heath in a ball-room,
-and enjoyed the delightful sense of power which comes when young girls
-first discover the new and lovely kingdom they are born to rule by
-virtue of beauty, youth, and womanhood. She did pity the Davis girls,
-who were awkward, plain, and destitute of escort, except a grim papa and
-three grimmer maiden aunts, and she bowed to them in her friendliest
-manner as she passed; which was good of her, as it permitted them to see
-her dress, and burn with curiosity to know who her distinguished-looking
-friend might be. With the first burst of the band, Amy's color rose, her
-eyes began to sparkle, and her feet to tap the floor impatiently; for
-she danced well, and wanted Laurie to know it: therefore the shock she
-received can better be imagined than described, when he said, in a
-perfectly tranquil tone,--
-
-"Do you care to dance?"
-
-"One usually does at a ball."
-
-Her amazed look and quick answer caused Laurie to repair his error as
-fast as possible.
-
-"I meant the first dance. May I have the honor?"
-
-"I can give you one if I put off the Count. He dances divinely; but he
-will excuse me, as you are an old friend," said Amy, hoping that the
-name would have a good effect, and show Laurie that she was not to be
-trifled with.
-
-"Nice little boy, but rather a short Pole to support
-
-        "'A daughter of the gods,
-          Divinely tall, and most divinely fair,'"
-
-was all the satisfaction she got, however.
-
-The set in which they found themselves was composed of English, and Amy
-was compelled to walk decorously through a cotillon, feeling all the
-while as if she could dance the Tarantula with a relish. Laurie resigned
-her to the "nice little boy," and went to do his duty to Flo, without
-securing Amy for the joys to come, which reprehensible want of
-forethought was properly punished, for she immediately engaged herself
-till supper, meaning to relent if he then gave any signs of penitence.
-She showed him her ball-book with demure satisfaction when he strolled,
-instead of rushing, up to claim her for the next, a glorious
-polka-redowa; but his polite regrets didn't impose upon her, and when
-she gallopaded away with the Count, she saw Laurie sit down by her aunt
-with an actual expression of relief.
-
-That was unpardonable; and Amy took no more notice of him for a long
-while, except a word now and then, when she came to her chaperon,
-between the dances, for a necessary pin or a moment's rest. Her anger
-had a good effect, however, for she hid it under a smiling face, and
-seemed unusually blithe and brilliant. Laurie's eyes followed her with
-pleasure, for she neither romped nor sauntered, but danced with spirit
-and grace, making the delightsome pastime what it should be. He very
-naturally fell to studying her from this new point of view; and, before
-the evening was half over, had decided that "little Amy was going to
-make a very charming woman."
-
-It was a lively scene, for soon the spirit of the social season took
-possession of every one, and Christmas merriment made all faces shine,
-hearts happy, and heels light. The musicians fiddled, tooted, and banged
-as if they enjoyed it; everybody danced who could, and those who
-couldn't admired their neighbors with uncommon warmth. The air was dark
-with Davises, and many Joneses gambolled like a flock of young giraffes.
-The golden secretary darted through the room like a meteor, with a
-dashing Frenchwoman, who carpeted the floor with her pink satin train.
-The Serene Teuton found the supper-table, and was happy, eating steadily
-through the bill of fare, and dismayed the _garçons_ by the ravages he
-committed. But the Emperor's friend covered himself with glory, for he
-danced everything, whether he knew it or not, and introduced impromptu
-pirouettes when the figures bewildered him. The boyish abandon of that
-stout man was charming to behold; for, though he "carried weight," he
-danced like an india-rubber ball. He ran, he flew, he pranced; his face
-glowed, his bald head shone; his coat-tails waved wildly, his pumps
-actually twinkled in the air, and when the music stopped, he wiped the
-drops from his brow, and beamed upon his fellow-men like a French
-Pickwick without glasses.
-
-Amy and her Pole distinguished themselves by equal enthusiasm, but more
-graceful agility; and Laurie found himself involuntarily keeping time to
-the rhythmic rise and fall of the white slippers as they flew by as
-indefatigably as if winged. When little Vladimir finally relinquished
-her, with assurances that he was "desolated to leave so early," she was
-ready to rest, and see how her recreant knight had borne his punishment.
-
-It had been successful; for, at three-and-twenty, blighted affections
-find a balm in friendly society, and young nerves will thrill, young
-blood dance, and healthy young spirits rise, when subjected to the
-enchantment of beauty, light, music, and motion. Laurie had a waked-up
-look as he rose to give her his seat; and when he hurried away to bring
-her some supper, she said to herself, with a satisfied smile,--
-
-"Ah, I thought that would do him good!"
-
-"You look like Balzac's 'Femme peinte par elle-même,'" he said, as he
-fanned her with one hand, and held her coffee-cup in the other.
-
-"My rouge won't come off;" and Amy rubbed her brilliant cheek, and
-showed him her white glove with a sober simplicity that made him laugh
-outright.
-
-"What do you call this stuff?" he asked, touching a fold of her dress
-that had blown over his knee.
-
-"Illusion."
-
-"Good name for it; it's very pretty--new thing, isn't it?"
-
-"It's as old as the hills; you have seen it on dozens of girls, and you
-never found out that it was pretty till now--_stupide_!"
-
-"I never saw it on you before, which accounts for the mistake, you see."
-
-"None of that, it is forbidden; I'd rather take coffee than compliments
-just now. No, don't lounge, it makes me nervous."
-
-Laurie sat bolt upright, and meekly took her empty plate, feeling an odd
-sort of pleasure in having "little Amy" order him about; for she had
-lost her shyness now, and felt an irresistible desire to trample on him,
-as girls have a delightful way of doing when lords of creation show any
-signs of subjection.
-
-"Where did you learn all this sort of thing?" he asked, with a quizzical
-look.
-
-"As 'this sort of thing' is rather a vague expression, would you kindly
-explain?" returned Amy, knowing perfectly well what he meant, but
-wickedly leaving him to describe what is indescribable.
-
-"Well--the general air, the style, the self-possession,
-the--the--illusion--you know," laughed Laurie, breaking down, and
-helping himself out of his quandary with the new word.
-
-Amy was gratified, but, of course, didn't show it, and demurely
-answered, "Foreign life polishes one in spite of one's self; I study as
-well as play; and as for this"--with a little gesture toward her
-dress--"why, tulle is cheap, posies to be had for nothing, and I am used
-to making the most of my poor little things."
-
-Amy rather regretted that last sentence, fearing it wasn't in good
-taste; but Laurie liked her the better for it, and found himself both
-admiring and respecting the brave patience that made the most of
-opportunity, and the cheerful spirit that covered poverty with flowers.
-Amy did not know why he looked at her so kindly, nor why he filled up
-her book with his own name, and devoted himself to her for the rest of
-the evening, in the most delightful manner; but the impulse that wrought
-this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions which
-both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving.
-
-
-
-
-                     [Illustration: Demi and Daisy]
-
-                                XXXVIII.
-
-                             ON THE SHELF.
-
-
-In France the young girls have a dull time of it till they are married,
-when "_Vive la liberté_" becomes their motto. In America, as every one
-knows, girls early sign the declaration of independence, and enjoy their
-freedom with republican zest; but the young matrons usually abdicate
-with the first heir to the throne, and go into a seclusion almost as
-close as a French nunnery, though by no means as quiet. Whether they
-like it or not, they are virtually put upon the shelf as soon as the
-wedding excitement is over, and most of them might exclaim, as did a
-very pretty woman the other day, "I'm as handsome as ever, but no one
-takes any notice of me because I'm married."
-
-Not being a belle or even a fashionable lady, Meg did not experience
-this affliction till her babies were a year old, for in her little world
-primitive customs prevailed, and she found herself more admired and
-beloved than ever.
-
-As she was a womanly little woman, the maternal instinct was very
-strong, and she was entirely absorbed in her children, to the utter
-exclusion of everything and everybody else. Day and night she brooded
-over them with tireless devotion and anxiety, leaving John to the tender
-mercies of the help, for an Irish lady now presided over the kitchen
-department. Being a domestic man, John decidedly missed the wifely
-attentions he had been accustomed to receive; but, as he adored his
-babies, he cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time, supposing,
-with masculine ignorance, that peace would soon be restored. But three
-months passed, and there was no return of repose; Meg looked worn and
-nervous, the babies absorbed every minute of her time, the house was
-neglected, and Kitty, the cook, who took life "aisy," kept him on short
-commons. When he went out in the morning he was bewildered by small
-commissions for the captive mamma; if he came gayly in at night, eager
-to embrace his family, he was quenched by a "Hush! they are just asleep
-after worrying all day." If he proposed a little amusement at home, "No,
-it would disturb the babies." If he hinted at a lecture or concert, he
-was answered with a reproachful look, and a decided "Leave my children
-for pleasure, never!" His sleep was broken by infant wails and visions
-of a phantom figure pacing noiselessly to and fro in the watches of the
-night; his meals were interrupted by the frequent flight of the
-presiding genius, who deserted him, half-helped, if a muffled chirp
-sounded from the nest above; and when he read his paper of an evening,
-Demi's colic got into the shipping-list, and Daisy's fall affected the
-price of stocks, for Mrs. Brooke was only interested in domestic news.
-
-The poor man was very uncomfortable, for the children had bereft him of
-his wife; home was merely a nursery, and the perpetual "hushing" made
-him feel like a brutal intruder whenever he entered the sacred precincts
-of Babyland. He bore it very patiently for six months, and, when no
-signs of amendment appeared, he did what other paternal exiles
-do,--tried to get a little comfort elsewhere. Scott had married and gone
-to housekeeping not far off, and John fell into the way of running over
-for an hour or two of an evening, when his own parlor was empty, and his
-own wife singing lullabies that seemed to have no end. Mrs. Scott was a
-lively, pretty girl, with nothing to do but be agreeable, and she
-performed her mission most successfully. The parlor was always bright
-and attractive, the chess-board ready, the piano in tune, plenty of gay
-gossip, and a nice little supper set forth in tempting style.
-
-John would have preferred his own fireside if it had not been so lonely;
-but as it was, he gratefully took the next best thing, and enjoyed his
-neighbor's society.
-
-Meg rather approved of the new arrangement at first, and found it a
-relief to know that John was having a good time instead of dozing in the
-parlor, or tramping about the house and waking the children. But by and
-by, when the teething worry was over, and the idols went to sleep at
-proper hours, leaving mamma time to rest, she began to miss John, and
-find her work-basket dull company, when he was not sitting opposite in
-his old dressing-gown, comfortably scorching his slippers on the fender.
-She would not ask him to stay at home, but felt injured because he did
-not know that she wanted him without being told, entirely forgetting the
-many evenings he had waited for her in vain. She was nervous and worn
-out with watching and worry, and in that unreasonable frame of mind
-which the best of mothers occasionally experience when domestic cares
-oppress them. Want of exercise robs them of cheerfulness, and too much
-devotion to that idol of American women, the teapot, makes them feel as
-if they were all nerve and no muscle.
-
-"Yes," she would say, looking in the glass, "I'm getting old and ugly;
-John doesn't find me interesting any longer, so he leaves his faded wife
-and goes to see his pretty neighbor, who has no incumbrances. Well, the
-babies love me; they don't care if I am thin and pale, and haven't time
-to crimp my hair; they are my comfort, and some day John will see what
-I've gladly sacrificed for them, won't he, my precious?"
-
-To which pathetic appeal Daisy would answer with a coo, or Demi with a
-crow, and Meg would put by her lamentations for a maternal revel, which
-soothed her solitude for the time being. But the pain increased as
-politics absorbed John, who was always running over to discuss
-interesting points with Scott, quite unconscious that Meg missed him.
-Not a word did she say, however, till her mother found her in tears one
-day, and insisted on knowing what the matter was, for Meg's drooping
-spirits had not escaped her observation.
-
-"I wouldn't tell any one except you, mother; but I really do need
-advice, for, if John goes on so much longer I might as well be widowed,"
-replied Mrs. Brooke, drying her tears on Daisy's bib, with an injured
-air.
-
-"Goes on how, my dear?" asked her mother anxiously.
-
-"He's away all day, and at night, when I want to see him, he is
-continually going over to the Scotts'. It isn't fair that I should have
-the hardest work, and never any amusement. Men are very selfish, even
-the best of them."
-
-"So are women; don't blame John till you see where you are wrong
-yourself."
-
-"But it can't be right for him to neglect me."
-
-"Don't you neglect him?"
-
-"Why, mother, I thought you'd take my part!"
-
-"So I do, as far as sympathizing goes; but I think the fault is yours,
-Meg."
-
-"I don't see how."
-
-"Let me show you. Did John ever neglect you, as you call it, while you
-made it a point to give him your society of an evening, his only leisure
-time?"
-
-"No; but I can't do it now, with two babies to tend."
-
-"I think you could, dear; and I think you ought. May I speak quite
-freely, and will you remember that it's mother who blames as well as
-mother who sympathizes?"
-
-"Indeed I will! Speak to me as if I were little Meg again. I often feel
-as if I needed teaching more than ever since these babies look to me for
-everything."
-
-Meg drew her low chair beside her mother's, and, with a little
-interruption in either lap, the two women rocked and talked lovingly
-together, feeling that the tie of motherhood made them more one than
-ever.
-
-"You have only made the mistake that most young wives make,--forgotten
-your duty to your husband in your love for your children. A very natural
-and forgivable mistake, Meg, but one that had better be remedied before
-you take to different ways; for children should draw you nearer than
-ever, not separate you, as if they were all yours, and John had nothing
-to do but support them. I've seen it for some weeks, but have not
-spoken, feeling sure it would come right in time."
-
-"I'm afraid it won't. If I ask him to stay, he'll think I'm jealous; and
-I wouldn't insult him by such an idea. He doesn't see that I want him,
-and I don't know how to tell him without words."
-
-"Make it so pleasant he won't want to go away. My dear, he's longing for
-his little home; but it isn't home without you, and you are always in
-the nursery."
-
-"Oughtn't I to be there?"
-
-"Not all the time; too much confinement makes you nervous, and then you
-are unfitted for everything. Besides, you owe something to John as well
-as to the babies; don't neglect husband for children, don't shut him out
-of the nursery, but teach him how to help in it. His place is there as
-well as yours, and the children need him; let him feel that he has his
-part to do, and he will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be
-better for you all."
-
-"You really think so, mother?"
-
-"I know it, Meg, for I've tried it; and I seldom give advice unless I've
-proved its practicability. When you and Jo were little, I went on just
-as you are, feeling as if I didn't do my duty unless I devoted myself
-wholly to you. Poor father took to his books, after I had refused all
-offers of help, and left me to try my experiment alone. I struggled
-along as well as I could, but Jo was too much for me. I nearly spoilt
-her by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about you till I fell
-sick myself. Then father came to the rescue, quietly managed everything,
-and made himself so helpful that I saw my mistake, and never have been
-able to get on without him since. That is the secret of our home
-happiness: he does not let business wean him from the little cares and
-duties that affect us all, and I try not to let domestic worries destroy
-my interest in his pursuits. Each do our part alone in many things, but
-at home we work together, always."
-
-"It is so, mother; and my great wish is to be to my husband and children
-what you have been to yours. Show me how; I'll do anything you say."
-
-"You always were my docile daughter. Well, dear, if I were you, I'd let
-John have more to do with the management of Demi, for the boy needs
-training, and it's none too soon to begin. Then I'd do what I have often
-proposed, let Hannah come and help you; she is a capital nurse, and you
-may trust the precious babies to her while you do more housework. You
-need the exercise, Hannah would enjoy the rest, and John would find his
-wife again. Go out more; keep cheerful as well as busy, for you are the
-sunshine-maker of the family, and if you get dismal there is no fair
-weather. Then I'd try to take an interest in whatever John likes,--talk
-with him, let him read to you, exchange ideas, and help each other in
-that way. Don't shut yourself up in a bandbox because you are a woman,
-but understand what is going on, and educate yourself to take your part
-in the world's work, for it all affects you and yours."
-
-"John is so sensible, I'm afraid he will think I'm stupid if I ask
-questions about politics and things."
-
-"I don't believe he would; love covers a multitude of sins, and of whom
-could you ask more freely than of him? Try it, and see if he doesn't
-find your society far more agreeable than Mrs. Scott's suppers."
-
-"I will. Poor John! I'm afraid I _have_ neglected him sadly, but I
-thought I was right, and he never said anything."
-
-"He tried not to be selfish, but he _has_ felt rather forlorn, I fancy.
-This is just the time, Meg, when young married people are apt to grow
-apart, and the very time when they ought to be most together; for the
-first tenderness soon wears off, unless care is taken to preserve it;
-and no time is so beautiful and precious to parents as the first years
-of the little lives given them to train. Don't let John be a stranger to
-the babies, for they will do more to keep him safe and happy in this
-world of trial and temptation than anything else, and through them you
-will learn to know and love one another as you should. Now, dear,
-good-by; think over mother's preachment, act upon it if it seems good,
-and God bless you all!"
-
-Meg did think it over, found it good, and acted upon it, though the
-first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it. Of course
-the children tyrannized over her, and ruled the house as soon as they
-found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted.
-Mamma was an abject slave to their caprices, but papa was not so easily
-subjugated, and occasionally afflicted his tender spouse by an attempt
-at paternal discipline with his obstreperous son. For Demi inherited a
-trifle of his sire's firmness of character,--we won't call it
-obstinacy,--and when he made up his little mind to have or to do
-anything, all the king's horses and all the king's men could not change
-that pertinacious little mind. Mamma thought the dear too young to be
-taught to conquer his prejudices, but papa believed that it never was
-too soon to learn obedience; so Master Demi early discovered that when
-he undertook to "wrastle" with "parpar," he always got the worst of it;
-yet, like the Englishman, Baby respected the man who conquered him, and
-loved the father whose grave "No, no," was more impressive than all
-mamma's love-pats.
-
-A few days after the talk with her mother, Meg resolved to try a social
-evening with John; so she ordered a nice supper, set the parlor in
-order, dressed herself prettily, and put the children to bed early, that
-nothing should interfere with her experiment. But, unfortunately, Demi's
-most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed, and that night he
-decided to go on a rampage; so poor Meg sung and rocked, told stories
-and tried every sleep-provoking wile she could devise, but all in vain,
-the big eyes wouldn't shut; and long after Daisy had gone to byelow,
-like the chubby little bunch of good-nature she was, naughty Demi lay
-staring at the light, with the most discouragingly wide-awake expression
-of countenance.
-
-"Will Demi lie still like a good boy, while mamma runs down and gives
-poor papa his tea?" asked Meg, as the hall-door softly closed, and the
-well-known step went tiptoeing into the dining-room.
-
-"Me has tea!" said Demi, preparing to join in the revel.
-
-"No; but I'll save you some little cakies for breakfast, if you'll go
-bye-by like Daisy. Will you, lovey?"
-
-"Iss!" and Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry the
-desired day.
-
-Taking advantage of the propitious moment, Meg slipped away, and ran
-down to greet her husband with a smiling face, and the little blue bow
-in her hair which was his especial admiration. He saw it at once, and
-said, with pleased surprise,--
-
-"Why, little mother, how gay we are to-night. Do you expect company?"
-
-"Only you, dear."
-
-"Is it a birthday, anniversary, or anything?"
-
-"No; I'm tired of being a dowdy, so I dressed up as a change. You always
-make yourself nice for table, no matter how tired you are; so why
-shouldn't I when I have the time?"
-
-"I do it out of respect to you, my dear," said old-fashioned John.
-
-"Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke," laughed Meg, looking young and pretty again,
-as she nodded to him over the teapot.
-
-"Well, it's altogether delightful, and like old times. This tastes
-right. I drink your health, dear." And John sipped his tea with an air
-of reposeful rapture, which was of very short duration, however; for, as
-he put down his cup, the door-handle rattled mysteriously, and a little
-voice was heard, saying impatiently,--
-
-"Opy doy; me's tummin!"
-
-"It's that naughty boy. I told him to go to sleep alone, and here he is,
-downstairs, getting his death a-cold pattering over that canvas," said
-Meg, answering the call.
-
-                      [Illustration: Mornin' now]
-
-"Mornin' now," announced Demi, in a joyful tone, as he entered, with his
-long night-gown gracefully festooned over his arm, and every curl
-bobbing gayly as he pranced about the table, eying the "cakies" with
-loving glances.
-
-"No, it isn't morning yet. You must go to bed, and not trouble poor
-mamma; then you can have the little cake with sugar on it."
-
-"Me loves parpar," said the artful one, preparing to climb the paternal
-knee, and revel in forbidden joys. But John shook his head, and said to
-Meg,--
-
-"If you told him to stay up there, and go to sleep alone, make him do
-it, or he will never learn to mind you."
-
-"Yes, of course. Come, Demi;" and Meg led her son away, feeling a
-strong desire to spank the little marplot who hopped beside her,
-laboring under the delusion that the bribe was to be administered as
-soon as they reached the nursery.
-
-Nor was he disappointed; for that short-sighted woman actually gave him
-a lump of sugar, tucked him into his bed, and forbade any more
-promenades till morning.
-
-"Iss!" said Demi the perjured, blissfully sucking his sugar, and
-regarding his first attempt as eminently successful.
-
-Meg returned to her place, and supper was progressing pleasantly, when
-the little ghost walked again, and exposed the maternal delinquencies by
-boldly demanding,--
-
-"More sudar, marmar."
-
-"Now this won't do," said John, hardening his heart against the engaging
-little sinner. "We shall never know any peace till that child learns to
-go to bed properly. You have made a slave of yourself long enough; give
-him one lesson, and then there will be an end of it. Put him in his bed
-and leave him, Meg."
-
-"He won't stay there; he never does, unless I sit by him."
-
-"I'll manage him. Demi, go upstairs, and get into your bed, as mamma
-bids you."
-
-"S'ant!" replied the young rebel, helping himself to the coveted
-"cakie," and beginning to eat the same with calm audacity.
-
-"You must never say that to papa; I shall carry you if you don't go
-yourself."
-
-"Go 'way; me don't love parpar;" and Demi retired to his mother's skirts
-for protection.
-
-But even that refuge proved unavailing, for he was delivered over to the
-enemy, with a "Be gentle with him, John," which struck the culprit with
-dismay; for when mamma deserted him, then the judgment-day was at hand.
-Bereft of his cake, defrauded of his frolic, and borne away by a strong
-hand to that detested bed, poor Demi could not restrain his wrath, but
-openly defied papa, and kicked and screamed lustily all the way
-upstairs. The minute he was put into bed on one side, he rolled out on
-the other, and made for the door, only to be ignominiously caught up by
-the tail of his little toga, and put back again, which lively
-performance was kept up till the young man's strength gave out, when he
-devoted himself to roaring at the top of his voice. This vocal exercise
-usually conquered Meg; but John sat as unmoved as the post which is
-popularly believed to be deaf. No coaxing, no sugar, no lullaby, no
-story; even the light was put out, and only the red glow of the fire
-enlivened the "big dark" which Demi regarded with curiosity rather than
-fear. This new order of things disgusted him, and he howled dismally for
-"marmar," as his angry passions subsided, and recollections of his
-tender bondwoman returned to the captive autocrat. The plaintive wail
-which succeeded the passionate roar went to Meg's heart, and she ran up
-to say beseechingly,--
-
-"Let me stay with him; he'll be good, now, John."
-
-"No, my dear, I've told him he must go to sleep, as you bid him; and he
-must, if I stay here all night."
-
-"But he'll cry himself sick," pleaded Meg, reproaching herself for
-deserting her boy.
-
-"No, he won't, he's so tired he will soon drop off, and then the matter
-is settled; for he will understand that he has got to mind. Don't
-interfere; I'll manage him."
-
-"He's my child, and I can't have his spirit broken by harshness."
-
-"He's my child, and I won't have his temper spoilt by indulgence. Go
-down, my dear, and leave the boy to me."
-
-When John spoke in that masterful tone, Meg always obeyed, and never
-regretted her docility.
-
-"Please let me kiss him once, John?"
-
-"Certainly. Demi, say 'good-night' to mamma, and let her go and rest,
-for she is very tired with taking care of you all day."
-
-Meg always insisted upon it that the kiss won the victory; for after it
-was given, Demi sobbed more quietly, and lay quite still at the bottom
-of the bed, whither he had wriggled in his anguish of mind.
-
-"Poor little man, he's worn out with sleep and crying. I'll cover him
-up, and then go and set Meg's heart at rest," thought John, creeping to
-the bedside, hoping to find his rebellious heir asleep.
-
-But he wasn't; for the moment his father peeped at him, Demi's eyes
-opened, his little chin began to quiver, and he put up his arms, saying,
-with a penitent hiccough, "Me's dood, now."
-
-Sitting on the stairs, outside, Meg wondered at the long silence which
-followed the uproar; and, after imagining all sorts of impossible
-accidents, she slipped into the room, to set her fears at rest. Demi lay
-fast asleep; not in his usual spread-eagle attitude, but in a subdued
-bunch, cuddled close in the circle of his father's arm and holding his
-father's finger, as if he felt that justice was tempered with mercy, and
-had gone to sleep a sadder and a wiser baby. So held, John had waited
-with womanly patience till the little hand relaxed its hold; and, while
-waiting, had fallen asleep, more tired by that tussle with his son than
-with his whole day's work.
-
-As Meg stood watching the two faces on the pillow, she smiled to
-herself, and then slipped away again, saying, in a satisfied tone,--
-
-"I never need fear that John will be too harsh with my babies: he _does_
-know how to manage them, and will be a great help, for Demi _is_ getting
-too much for me."
-
-When John came down at last, expecting to find a pensive or reproachful
-wife, he was agreeably surprised to find Meg placidly trimming a bonnet,
-and to be greeted with the request to read something about the election,
-if he was not too tired. John saw in a minute that a revolution of some
-kind was going on, but wisely asked no questions, knowing that Meg was
-such a transparent little person, she couldn't keep a secret to save her
-life, and therefore the clew would soon appear. He read a long debate
-with the most amiable readiness, and then explained it in his most lucid
-manner, while Meg tried to look deeply interested, to ask intelligent
-questions, and keep her thoughts from wandering from the state of the
-nation to the state of her bonnet. In her secret soul, however, she
-decided that politics were as bad as mathematics, and that the mission
-of politicians seemed to be calling each other names; but she kept these
-feminine ideas to herself, and when John paused, shook her head, and
-said with what she thought diplomatic ambiguity,--
-
-"Well, I really don't see what we are coming to."
-
-John laughed, and watched her for a minute, as she poised a pretty
-little preparation of lace and flowers on her hand, and regarded it with
-the genuine interest which his harangue had failed to waken.
-
-"She is trying to like politics for my sake, so I'll try and like
-millinery for hers, that's only fair," thought John the Just, adding
-aloud,--
-
-"That's very pretty; is it what you call a breakfast-cap?"
-
-               [Illustration: My dear man, it's a bonnet]
-
-"My dear man, it's a bonnet! My very best go-to-concert-and-theatre
-bonnet."
-
-"I beg your pardon; it was so small, I naturally mistook it for one of
-the fly-away things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?"
-
-"These bits of lace are fastened under the chin with a rosebud, so;" and
-Meg illustrated by putting on the bonnet, and regarding him with an air
-of calm satisfaction that was irresistible.
-
-"It's a love of a bonnet, but I prefer the face inside, for it looks
-young and happy again," and John kissed the smiling face, to the great
-detriment of the rosebud under the chin.
-
-"I'm glad you like it, for I want you to take me to one of the new
-concerts some night; I really need some music to put me in tune. Will
-you, please?"
-
-"Of course I will, with all my heart, or anywhere else you like. You
-have been shut up so long, it will do you no end of good, and I shall
-enjoy it, of all things. What put it into your head, little mother?"
-
-"Well, I had a talk with Marmee the other day, and told her how nervous
-and cross and out of sorts I felt, and she said I needed change and less
-care; so Hannah is to help me with the children, and I'm to see to
-things about the house more, and now and then have a little fun, just to
-keep me from getting to be a fidgety, broken-down old woman before my
-time. It's only an experiment, John, and I want to try it for your sake
-as much as for mine, because I've neglected you shamefully lately, and
-I'm going to make home what it used to be, if I can. You don't object, I
-hope?"
-
-Never mind what John said, or what a very narrow escape the little
-bonnet had from utter ruin; all that we have any business to know, is
-that John did _not_ appear to object, judging from the changes which
-gradually took place in the house and its inmates. It was not all
-Paradise by any means, but every one was better for the division of
-labor system; the children throve under the paternal rule, for accurate,
-steadfast John brought order and obedience into Babydom, while Meg
-recovered her spirits and composed her nerves by plenty of wholesome
-exercise, a little pleasure, and much confidential conversation with her
-sensible husband. Home grew home-like again, and John had no wish to
-leave it, unless he took Meg with him. The Scotts came to the Brookes'
-now, and every one found the little house a cheerful place, full of
-happiness, content, and family love. Even gay Sallie Moffatt liked to go
-there. "It is always so quiet and pleasant here; it does me good, Meg,"
-she used to say, looking about her with wistful eyes, as if trying to
-discover the charm, that she might use it in her great house, full of
-splendid loneliness; for there were no riotous, sunny-faced babies
-there, and Ned lived in a world of his own, where there was no place for
-her.
-
-This household happiness did not come all at once, but John and Meg had
-found the key to it, and each year of married life taught them how to
-use it, unlocking the treasuries of real home-love and mutual
-helpfulness, which the poorest may possess, and the richest cannot buy.
-This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent
-to be laid, safe from the restless fret and fever of the world, finding
-loyal lovers in the little sons and daughters who cling to them,
-undaunted by sorrow, poverty, or age; walking side by side, through fair
-and stormy weather, with a faithful friend, who is, in the true sense of
-the good old Saxon word, the "house-band," and learning, as Meg learned,
-that a woman's happiest kingdom is home, her highest honor the art of
-ruling it, not as a queen, but a wise wife and mother.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-     [Illustration: Sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped]
-
-                                 XXXIX.
-
-                             LAZY LAURENCE.
-
-
-Laurie went to Nice intending to stay a week, and remained a month. He
-was tired of wandering about alone, and Amy's familiar presence seemed
-to give a home-like charm to the foreign scenes in which she bore a
-part. He rather missed the "petting" he used to receive, and enjoyed a
-taste of it again; for no attentions, however flattering, from
-strangers, were half so pleasant as the sisterly adoration of the girls
-at home. Amy never would pet him like the others, but she was very glad
-to see him now, and quite clung to him, feeling that he was the
-representative of the dear family for whom she longed more than she
-would confess. They naturally took comfort in each other's society, and
-were much together, riding, walking, dancing, or dawdling, for, at Nice,
-no one can be very industrious during the gay season. But, while
-apparently amusing themselves in the most careless fashion, they were
-half-consciously making discoveries and forming opinions about each
-other. Amy rose daily in the estimation of her friend, but he sunk in
-hers, and each felt the truth before a word was spoken. Amy tried to
-please, and succeeded, for she was grateful for the many pleasures he
-gave her, and repaid him with the little services to which womanly women
-know how to lend an indescribable charm. Laurie made no effort of any
-kind, but just let himself drift along as comfortably as possible,
-trying to forget, and feeling that all women owed him a kind word
-because one had been cold to him. It cost him no effort to be generous,
-and he would have given Amy all the trinkets in Nice if she would have
-taken them; but, at the same time, he felt that he could not change the
-opinion she was forming of him, and he rather dreaded the keen blue eyes
-that seemed to watch him with such half-sorrowful, half-scornful
-surprise.
-
-"All the rest have gone to Monaco for the day; I preferred to stay at
-home and write letters. They are done now, and I am going to Valrosa to
-sketch; will you come?" said Amy, as she joined Laurie one lovely day
-when he lounged in as usual, about noon.
-
-"Well, yes; but isn't it rather warm for such a long walk?" he answered
-slowly, for the shaded _salon_ looked inviting, after the glare without.
-
-"I'm going to have the little carriage, and Baptiste can drive, so
-you'll have nothing to do but hold your umbrella and keep your gloves
-nice," returned Amy, with a sarcastic glance at the immaculate kids,
-which were a weak point with Laurie.
-
-"Then I'll go with pleasure;" and he put out his hand for her
-sketch-book. But she tucked it under her arm with a sharp--
-
-"Don't trouble yourself; it's no exertion to me, but _you_ don't look
-equal to it."
-
-Laurie lifted his eyebrows, and followed at a leisurely pace as she ran
-downstairs; but when they got into the carriage he took the reins
-himself, and left little Baptiste nothing to do but fold his arms and
-fall asleep on his perch.
-
-The two never quarrelled,--Amy was too well-bred, and just now Laurie
-was too lazy; so, in a minute he peeped under her hat-brim with an
-inquiring air; she answered with a smile, and they went on together in
-the most amicable manner.
-
-It was a lovely drive, along winding roads rich in the picturesque
-scenes that delight beauty-loving eyes. Here an ancient monastery,
-whence the solemn chanting of the monks came down to them. There a
-bare-legged shepherd, in wooden shoes, pointed hat, and rough jacket
-over one shoulder, sat piping on a stone, while his goats skipped among
-the rocks or lay at his feet. Meek, mouse-colored donkeys, laden with
-panniers of freshly-cut grass, passed by, with a pretty girl in a
-_capaline_ sitting between the green piles, or an old woman spinning
-with a distaff as she went. Brown, soft-eyed children ran out from the
-quaint stone hovels to offer nosegays, or bunches of oranges still on
-the bough. Gnarled olive-trees covered the hills with their dusky
-foliage, fruit hung golden in the orchard, and great scarlet anemones
-fringed the roadside; while beyond green slopes and craggy heights, the
-Maritime Alps rose sharp and white against the blue Italian sky.
-
-Valrosa well deserved its name, for, in that climate of perpetual
-summer, roses blossomed everywhere. They overhung the archway, thrust
-themselves between the bars of the great gate with a sweet welcome to
-passers-by, and lined the avenue, winding through lemon-trees and
-feathery palms up to the villa on the hill. Every shadowy nook, where
-seats invited one to stop and rest, was a mass of bloom; every cool
-grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers, and every
-fountain reflected crimson, white, or pale pink roses, leaning down to
-smile at their own beauty. Roses covered the walls of the house, draped
-the cornices, climbed the pillars, and ran riot over the balustrade of
-the wide terrace, whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean, and
-the white-walled city on its shore.
-
-"This is a regular honeymoon Paradise, isn't it? Did you ever see such
-roses?" asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view, and a
-luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by.
-
-"No, nor felt such thorns," returned Laurie, with his thumb in his
-mouth, after a vain attempt to capture a solitary scarlet flower that
-grew just beyond his reach.
-
-"Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns," said Amy,
-gathering three of the tiny cream-colored ones that starred the wall
-behind her. She put them in his button-hole, as a peace-offering, and he
-stood a minute looking down at them with a curious expression, for in
-the Italian part of his nature there was a touch of superstition, and
-he was just then in that state of half-sweet, half-bitter melancholy,
-when imaginative young men find significance in trifles, and food for
-romance everywhere. He had thought of Jo in reaching after the thorny
-red rose, for vivid flowers became her, and she had often worn ones like
-that from the greenhouse at home. The pale roses Amy gave him were the
-sort that the Italians lay in dead hands, never in bridal wreaths, and,
-for a moment, he wondered if the omen was for Jo or for himself; but the
-next instant his American common-sense got the better of sentimentality,
-and he laughed a heartier laugh than Amy had heard since he came.
-
-"It's good advice; you'd better take it and save your fingers," she
-said, thinking her speech amused him.
-
-"Thank you, I will," he answered in jest, and a few months later he did
-it in earnest.
-
-"Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?" she asked presently,
-as she settled herself on a rustic seat.
-
-"Very soon."
-
-"You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks."
-
-"I dare say; short answers save trouble."
-
-"He expects you, and you really ought to go."
-
-"Hospitable creature! I know it."
-
-"Then why don't you do it?"
-
-"Natural depravity, I suppose."
-
-"Natural indolence, you mean. It's really dreadful!" and Amy looked
-severe.
-
-"Not so bad as it seems, for I should only plague him if I went, so I
-might as well stay, and plague you a little longer, you can bear it
-better; in fact, I think it agrees with you excellently;" and Laurie
-composed himself for a lounge on the broad ledge of the balustrade.
-
-Amy shook her head, and opened her sketch-book with an air of
-resignation; but she had made up her mind to lecture "that boy," and in
-a minute she began again.
-
-"What are you doing just now?"
-
-"Watching lizards."
-
-"No, no; I mean what do you intend and wish to do?"
-
-"Smoke a cigarette, if you'll allow me."
-
-"How provoking you are! I don't approve of cigars, and I will only allow
-it on condition that you let me put you into my sketch; I need a
-figure."
-
-"With all the pleasure in life. How will you have me,--full-length or
-three-quarters, on my head or my heels? I should respectfully suggest a
-recumbent posture, then put yourself in also, and call it '_Dolce far
-niente._'"
-
-"Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. _I_ intend to work hard,"
-said Amy, in her most energetic tone.
-
-"What delightful enthusiasm!" and he leaned against a tall urn with an
-air of entire satisfaction.
-
-"What would Jo say if she saw you now?" asked Amy impatiently, hoping to
-stir him up by the mention of her still more energetic sister's name.
-
-"As usual, 'Go away, Teddy, I'm busy!'" He laughed as he spoke, but the
-laugh was not natural, and a shade passed over his face, for the
-utterance of the familiar name touched the wound that was not healed
-yet. Both tone and shadow struck Amy, for she had seen and heard them
-before, and now she looked up in time to catch a new expression on
-Laurie's face,--a hard, bitter look, full of pain, dissatisfaction, and
-regret. It was gone before she could study it, and the listless
-expression back again. She watched him for a moment with artistic
-pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked, as he lay basking in
-the sun with uncovered head, and eyes full of southern dreaminess; for
-he seemed to have forgotten her, and fallen into a reverie.
-
-"You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep on his tomb," she
-said, carefully tracing the well-cut profile defined against the dark
-stone.
-
-"Wish I was!"
-
-"That's a foolish wish, unless you have spoilt your life. You are so
-changed, I sometimes think--" there Amy stopped, with a half-timid,
-half-wistful look, more significant than her unfinished speech.
-
-Laurie saw and understood the affectionate anxiety which she hesitated
-to express, and looking straight into her eyes, said, just as he used to
-say it to her mother,--
-
-"It's all right, ma'am."
-
-That satisfied her and set at rest the doubts that had begun to worry
-her lately. It also touched her, and she showed that it did, by the
-cordial tone in which she said,--
-
-"I'm glad of that! I didn't think you'd been a very bad boy, but I
-fancied you might have wasted money at that wicked Baden-Baden, lost
-your heart to some charming Frenchwoman with a husband, or got into some
-of the scrapes that young men seem to consider a necessary part of a
-foreign tour. Don't stay out there in the sun; come and lie on the grass
-here, and 'let us be friendly,' as Jo used to say when we got in the
-sofa-corner and told secrets."
-
-         [Illustration: Laurie threw himself down on the turf]
-
-Laurie obediently threw himself down on the turf, and began to amuse
-himself by sticking daisies into the ribbons of Amy's hat, that lay
-there.
-
-"I'm all ready for the secrets;" and he glanced up with a decided
-expression of interest in his eyes.
-
-"I've none to tell; you may begin."
-
-"Haven't one to bless myself with. I thought perhaps you'd had some news
-from home."
-
-"You have heard all that has come lately. Don't you hear often? I
-fancied Jo would send you volumes."
-
-"She's very busy; I'm roving about so, it's impossible to be regular,
-you know. When do you begin your great work of art, Raphaella?" he
-asked, changing the subject abruptly after another pause, in which he
-had been wondering if Amy knew his secret, and wanted to talk about it.
-
-"Never," she answered, with a despondent but decided air. "Rome took all
-the vanity out of me; for after seeing the wonders there, I felt too
-insignificant to live, and gave up all my foolish hopes in despair."
-
-"Why should you, with so much energy and talent?"
-
-"That's just why,--because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy
-can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a
-common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try any more."
-
-"And what are you going to do with yourself now, if I may ask?"
-
-"Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the
-chance."
-
-It was a characteristic speech, and sounded daring; but audacity becomes
-young people, and Amy's ambition had a good foundation. Laurie smiled,
-but he liked the spirit with which she took up a new purpose when a
-long-cherished one died, and spent no time lamenting.
-
-"Good! and here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy."
-
-Amy preserved a discreet silence, but there was a conscious look in her
-downcast face, that made Laurie sit up and say gravely,--
-
-"Now I'm going to play brother, and ask questions. May I?"
-
-"I don't promise to answer."
-
-"Your face will, if your tongue won't. You aren't woman of the world
-enough yet to hide your feelings, my dear. I heard rumors about Fred and
-you last year, and it's my private opinion that, if he had not been
-called home so suddenly and detained so long, something would have come
-of it--hey?"
-
-"That's not for me to say," was Amy's prim reply; but her lips would
-smile, and there was a traitorous sparkle of the eye, which betrayed
-that she knew her power and enjoyed the knowledge.
-
-"You are not engaged, I hope?" and Laurie looked very elder-brotherly
-and grave all of a sudden.
-
-"No."
-
-"But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down upon his
-knees, won't you?"
-
-"Very likely."
-
-"Then you are fond of old Fred?"
-
-"I could be, if I tried."
-
-"But you don't intend to try till the proper moment? Bless my soul, what
-unearthly prudence! He's a good fellow, Amy, but not the man I fancied
-you'd like."
-
-"He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners," began Amy, trying
-to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself,
-in spite of the sincerity of her intentions.
-
-"I understand; queens of society can't get on without money, so you mean
-to make a good match, and start in that way? Quite right and proper, as
-the world goes, but it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother's
-girls."
-
-"True, nevertheless."
-
-A short speech, but the quiet decision with which it was uttered
-contrasted curiously with the young speaker. Laurie felt this
-instinctively, and laid himself down again, with a sense of
-disappointment which he could not explain. His look and silence, as well
-as a certain inward self-disapproval, ruffled Amy, and made her resolve
-to deliver her lecture without delay.
-
-"I wish you'd do me the favor to rouse yourself a little," she said
-sharply.
-
-"Do it for me, there's a dear girl."
-
-"I could, if I tried;" and she looked as if she would like doing it in
-the most summary style.
-
-"Try, then; I give you leave," returned Laurie, who enjoyed having some
-one to tease, after his long abstinence from his favorite pastime.
-
-"You'd be angry in five minutes."
-
-"I'm never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire: you are
-as cool and soft as snow."
-
-"You don't know what I can do; snow produces a glow and a tingle, if
-applied rightly. Your indifference is half affectation, and a good
-stirring up would prove it."
-
-"Stir away; it won't hurt me and it may amuse you, as the big man said
-when his little wife beat him. Regard me in the light of a husband or a
-carpet, and beat till you are tired, if that sort of exercise agrees
-with you."
-
-Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the
-apathy that so altered him, Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and
-began:--
-
-"Flo and I have got a new name for you; it's 'Lazy Laurence.' How do you
-like it?"
-
-She thought it would annoy him; but he only folded his arms under his
-head, with an imperturbable "That's not bad. Thank you, ladies."
-
-"Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?"
-
-"Pining to be told."
-
-"Well, I despise you."
-
-If she had even said "I hate you," in a petulant or coquettish tone, he
-would have laughed, and rather liked it; but the grave, almost sad,
-accent of her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly,--
-
-"Why, if you please?"
-
-"Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are
-faulty, lazy, and miserable."
-
-"Strong language, mademoiselle."
-
-"If you like it, I'll go on."
-
-"Pray, do; it's quite interesting."
-
-"I thought you'd find it so; selfish people always like to talk about
-themselves."
-
-"Am _I_ selfish?" The question slipped out involuntarily and in a tone
-of surprise, for the one virtue on which he prided himself was
-generosity.
-
-"Yes, very selfish," continued Amy, in a calm, cool voice, twice as
-effective, just then, as an angry one. "I'll show you how, for I've
-studied you while we have been frolicking, and I'm not at all satisfied
-with you. Here you have been abroad nearly six months, and done nothing
-but waste time and money and disappoint your friends."
-
-"Isn't a fellow to have any pleasure after a four-years grind?"
-
-"You don't look as if you'd had much; at any rate, you are none the
-better for it, as far as I can see. I said, when we first met, that you
-had improved. Now I take it all back, for I don't think you half so nice
-as when I left you at home. You have grown abominably lazy; you like
-gossip, and waste time on frivolous things; you are contented to be
-petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and respected
-by wise ones. With money, talent, position, health, and beauty,--ah, you
-like that, Old Vanity! but it's the truth, so I can't help saying
-it,--with all these splendid things to use and enjoy, you can find
-nothing to do but dawdle; and, instead of being the man you might and
-ought to be, you are only--" There she stopped, with a look that had
-both pain and pity in it.
-
-"Saint Laurence on a gridiron," added Laurie, blandly finishing the
-sentence. But the lecture began to take effect, for there was a
-wide-awake sparkle in his eyes now, and a half-angry, half-injured
-expression replaced the former indifference.
-
-"I supposed you'd take it so. You men tell us we are angels, and say we
-can make you what we will; but the instant we honestly try to do you
-good, you laugh at us, and won't listen, which proves how much your
-flattery is worth." Amy spoke bitterly, and turned her back on the
-exasperating martyr at her feet.
-
-In a minute a hand came down over the page, so that she could not draw,
-and Laurie's voice said, with a droll imitation of a penitent child,--
-
-"I will be good, oh, I will be good!"
-
-But Amy did not laugh, for she was in earnest; and, tapping on the
-outspread hand with her pencil, said soberly,--
-
-"Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that? It's as soft and white as a
-woman's, and looks as if it never did anything but wear Jouvin's best
-gloves, and pick flowers for ladies. You are not a dandy, thank Heaven!
-so I'm glad to see there are no diamonds or big seal-rings on it, only
-the little old one Jo gave you so long ago. Dear soul, I wish she was
-here to help me!"
-
-"So do I!"
-
-The hand vanished as suddenly as it came, and there was energy enough in
-the echo of her wish to suit even Amy. She glanced down at him with a
-new thought in her mind; but he was lying with his hat half over his
-face, as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She only saw his
-chest rise and fall, with a long breath that might have been a sigh, and
-the hand that wore the ring nestled down into the grass, as if to hide
-something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. All in a minute
-various hints and trifles assumed shape and significance in Amy's mind,
-and told her what her sister never had confided to her. She remembered
-that Laurie never spoke voluntarily of Jo; she recalled the shadow on
-his face just now, the change in his character, and the wearing of the
-little old ring, which was no ornament to a handsome hand. Girls are
-quick to read such signs and feel their eloquence. Amy had fancied that
-perhaps a love trouble was at the bottom of the alteration, and now she
-was sure of it. Her keen eyes filled, and, when she spoke again, it was
-in a voice that could be beautifully soft and kind when she chose to
-make it so.
-
-"I know I have no right to talk so to you, Laurie; and if you weren't
-the sweetest-tempered fellow in the world, you'd be very angry with me.
-But we are all so fond and proud of you, I couldn't bear to think they
-should be disappointed in you at home as I have been, though, perhaps,
-they would understand the change better than I do."
-
-"I think they would," came from under the hat, in a grim tone, quite as
-touching as a broken one.
-
-"They ought to have told me, and not let me go blundering and scolding,
-when I should have been more kind and patient than ever. I never did
-like that Miss Randal, and now I hate her!" said artful Amy, wishing to
-be sure of her facts this time.
-
-"Hang Miss Randal!" and Laurie knocked the hat off his face with a look
-that left no doubt of his sentiments toward that young lady.
-
-"I beg pardon; I thought--" and there she paused diplomatically.
-
-"No, you didn't; you knew perfectly well I never cared for any one but
-Jo." Laurie said that in his old, impetuous tone, and turned his face
-away as he spoke.
-
-"I did think so; but as they never said anything about it, and you came
-away, I supposed I was mistaken. And Jo wouldn't be kind to you? Why, I
-was sure she loved you dearly."
-
-"She _was_ kind, but not in the right way; and it's lucky for her she
-didn't love me, if I'm the good-for-nothing fellow you think me. It's
-her fault, though, and you may tell her so."
-
-The hard, bitter look came back again as he said that, and it troubled
-Amy, for she did not know what balm to apply.
-
-"I was wrong, I didn't know. I'm very sorry I was so cross, but I can't
-help wishing you'd bear it better, Teddy, dear."
-
-"Don't, that's her name for me!" and Laurie put up his hand with a quick
-gesture to stop the words spoken in Jo's half-kind, half-reproachful
-tone. "Wait till you've tried it yourself," he added, in a low voice, as
-he pulled up the grass by the handful.
-
-"I'd take it manfully, and be respected if I couldn't be loved," said
-Amy, with the decision of one who knew nothing about it.
-
-Now, Laurie flattered himself that he _had_ borne it remarkably well,
-making no moan, asking no sympathy, and taking his trouble away to live
-it down alone. Amy's lecture put the matter in a new light, and for the
-first time it did look weak and selfish to lose heart at the first
-failure, and shut himself up in moody indifference. He felt as if
-suddenly shaken out of a pensive dream, and found it impossible to go to
-sleep again. Presently he sat up, and asked slowly,--
-
-"Do you think Jo would despise me as you do?"
-
-"Yes, if she saw you now. She hates lazy people. Why don't you do
-something splendid, and _make_ her love you?"
-
-"I did my best, but it was no use."
-
-"Graduating well, you mean? That was no more than you ought to have
-done, for your grandfather's sake. It would have been shameful to fail
-after spending so much time and money, when every one knew you _could_
-do well."
-
-"I did fail, say what you will, for Jo wouldn't love me," began Laurie,
-leaning his head on his hand in a despondent attitude.
-
-"No, you didn't, and you'll say so in the end, for it did you good, and
-proved that you could do something if you tried. If you'd only set about
-another task of some sort, you'd soon be your hearty, happy self again,
-and forget your trouble."
-
-"That's impossible."
-
-"Try it and see. You needn't shrug your shoulders, and think, 'Much she
-knows about such things.' I don't pretend to be wise, but I _am_
-observing, and I see a great deal more than you'd imagine. I'm
-interested in other people's experiences and inconsistencies; and,
-though I can't explain, I remember and use them for my own benefit. Love
-Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's
-wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one
-you want. There, I won't lecture any more, for I know you'll wake up and
-be a man in spite of that hardhearted girl."
-
-Neither spoke for several minutes. Laurie sat turning the little ring on
-his finger, and Amy put the last touches to the hasty sketch she had
-been working at while she talked. Presently she put it on his knee,
-merely saying,--
-
-"How do you like that?"
-
-He looked and then he smiled, as he could not well help doing, for it
-was capitally done,--the long, lazy figure on the grass, with listless
-face, half-shut eyes, and one hand holding a cigar, from which came the
-little wreath of smoke that encircled the dreamer's head.
-
-"How well you draw!" he said, with genuine surprise and pleasure at her
-skill, adding, with a half-laugh,--
-
-"Yes, that's me."
-
-"As you are: this is as you were;" and Amy laid another sketch beside
-the one he held.
-
-It was not nearly so well done, but there was a life and spirit in it
-which atoned for many faults, and it recalled the past so vividly that a
-sudden change swept over the young man's face as he looked. Only a rough
-sketch of Laurie taming a horse; hat and coat were off, and every line
-of the active figure, resolute face, and commanding attitude, was full
-of energy and meaning. The handsome brute, just subdued, stood arching
-his neck under the tightly drawn rein, with one foot impatiently pawing
-the ground, and ears pricked up as if listening for the voice that had
-mastered him. In the ruffled mane, the rider's breezy hair and erect
-attitude, there was a suggestion of suddenly arrested motion, of
-strength, courage, and youthful buoyancy, that contrasted sharply with
-the supine grace of the "_Dolce far niente_" sketch. Laurie said
-nothing; but, as his eye went from one to the other, Amy saw him flush
-up and fold his lips together as if he read and accepted the little
-lesson she had given him. That satisfied her; and, without waiting for
-him to speak, she said, in her sprightly way,--
-
-        [Illustration: A rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse]
-
-"Don't you remember the day you played Rarey with Puck, and we all
-looked on? Meg and Beth were frightened, but Jo clapped and pranced, and
-I sat on the fence and drew you. I found that sketch in my portfolio the
-other day, touched it up, and kept it to show you."
-
-"Much obliged. You've improved immensely since then, and I congratulate
-you. May I venture to suggest in 'a honeymoon Paradise' that five
-o'clock is the dinner-hour at your hotel?"
-
-Laurie rose as he spoke, returned the pictures with a smile and a bow,
-and looked at his watch, as if to remind her that even moral lectures
-should have an end. He tried to resume his former easy, indifferent air,
-but it _was_ an affectation now, for the rousing had been more
-efficacious than he would confess. Amy felt the shade of coldness in his
-manner, and said to herself,--
-
-"Now I've offended him. Well, if it does him good, I'm glad; if it makes
-him hate me, I'm sorry; but it's true, and I can't take back a word of
-it."
-
-They laughed and chatted all the way home; and little Baptiste, up
-behind, thought that monsieur and mademoiselle were in charming spirits.
-But both felt ill at ease; the friendly frankness was disturbed, the
-sunshine had a shadow over it, and despite their apparent gayety, there
-was a secret discontent in the heart of each.
-
-"Shall we see you this evening, _mon frère_?" asked Amy as they parted
-at her aunt's door.
-
-"Unfortunately I have an engagement. _Au revoir, mademoiselle_," and
-Laurie bent as if to kiss her hand, in the foreign fashion, which became
-him better than many men. Something in his face made Amy say quickly and
-warmly,--
-
-"No; be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I'd
-rather have a hearty English hand-shake than all the sentimental
-salutations in France."
-
-"Good-by, dear," and with these words, uttered in the tone she liked,
-Laurie left her, after a hand-shake almost painful in its heartiness.
-
-Next morning, instead of the usual call, Amy received a note which made
-her smile at the beginning and sigh at the end:--
-
-    "MY DEAR MENTOR,--
-
-    "Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself,
-    for 'Lazy Laurence' has gone to his grandpa, like the best of
-    boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a
-    blissful honeymoon at Valrosa! I think Fred would be benefited
-    by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations.
-
-                            "Yours gratefully,          TELEMACHUS."
-
-"Good boy! I'm glad he's gone," said Amy, with an approving smile; the
-next minute her face fell as she glanced about the empty room, adding,
-with an involuntary sigh,--
-
-"Yes, I _am_ glad, but how I shall miss him!"
-
-
-
-
-                [Illustration: The Valley of the Shadow]
-
-                                  XL.
-
-                       THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.
-
-
-When the first bitterness was over, the family accepted the inevitable,
-and tried to bear it cheerfully, helping one another by the increased
-affection which comes to bind households tenderly together in times of
-trouble. They put away their grief, and each did his or her part toward
-making that last year a happy one.
-
-The pleasantest room in the house was set apart for Beth, and in it was
-gathered everything that she most loved,--flowers, pictures, her piano,
-the little work-table, and the beloved pussies. Father's best books
-found their way there, mother's easy-chair, Jo's desk, Amy's finest
-sketches; and every day Meg brought her babies on a loving pilgrimage,
-to make sunshine for Aunty Beth. John quietly set apart a little sum,
-that he might enjoy the pleasure of keeping the invalid supplied with
-the fruit she loved and longed for; old Hannah never wearied of
-concocting dainty dishes to tempt a capricious appetite, dropping tears
-as she worked; and from across the sea came little gifts and cheerful
-letters, seeming to bring breaths of warmth and fragrance from lands
-that know no winter.
-
-Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil
-and busy as ever; for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature,
-and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for
-those who should remain behind. The feeble fingers were never idle, and
-one of her pleasures was to make little things for the school-children
-daily passing to and fro,--to drop a pair of mittens from her window for
-a pair of purple hands, a needle-book for some small mother of many
-dolls, pen-wipers for young penmen toiling through forests of pot-hooks,
-scrap-books for picture-loving eyes, and all manner of pleasant devices,
-till the reluctant climbers up the ladder of learning found their way
-strewn with flowers, as it were, and came to regard the gentle giver as
-a sort of fairy godmother, who sat above there, and showered down gifts
-miraculously suited to their tastes and needs. If Beth had wanted any
-reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her
-window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to
-her, full of blots and gratitude.
-
-The first few months were very happy ones, and Beth often used to look
-round, and say "How beautiful this is!" as they all sat together in her
-sunny room, the babies kicking and crowing on the floor, mother and
-sisters working near, and father reading, in his pleasant voice, from
-the wise old books which seemed rich in good and comfortable words, as
-applicable now as when written centuries ago; a little chapel, where a
-paternal priest taught his flock the hard lessons all must learn, trying
-to show them that hope can comfort love, and faith make resignation
-possible. Simple sermons, that went straight to the souls of those who
-listened; for the father's heart was in the minister's religion, and the
-frequent falter in the voice gave a double eloquence to the words he
-spoke or read.
-
-It was well for all that this peaceful time was given them as
-preparation for the sad hours to come; for, by and by, Beth said the
-needle was "so heavy," and put it down forever; talking wearied her,
-faces troubled her, pain claimed her for its own, and her tranquil
-spirit was sorrowfully perturbed by the ills that vexed her feeble
-flesh. Ah me! such heavy days, such long, long nights, such aching
-hearts and imploring prayers, when those who loved her best were forced
-to see the thin hands stretched out to them beseechingly, to hear the
-bitter cry, "Help me, help me!" and to feel that there was no help. A
-sad eclipse of the serene soul, a sharp struggle of the young life with
-death; but both were mercifully brief, and then, the natural rebellion
-over, the old peace returned more beautiful than ever. With the wreck of
-her frail body, Beth's soul grew strong; and, though she said little,
-those about her felt that she was ready, saw that the first pilgrim
-called was likewise the fittest, and waited with her on the shore,
-trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed
-the river.
-
-Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said, "I feel stronger when
-you are here." She slept on a couch in the room, waking often to renew
-the fire, to feed, lift, or wait upon the patient creature who seldom
-asked for anything, and "tried not to be a trouble." All day she haunted
-the room, jealous of any other nurse, and prouder of being chosen then
-than of any honor her life ever brought her. Precious and helpful hours
-to Jo, for now her heart received the teaching that it needed; lessons
-in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn
-them; charity for all, the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly
-forget unkindness, the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy, and
-the sincere faith that fears nothing, but trusts undoubtingly.
-
-Often, when she woke, Jo found Beth reading in her well-worn little
-book, heard her singing softly, to beguile the sleepless night, or saw
-her lean her face upon her hands, while slow tears dropped through the
-transparent fingers; and Jo would lie watching her, with thoughts too
-deep for tears, feeling that Beth, in her simple, unselfish way, was
-trying to wean herself from the dear old life, and fit herself for the
-life to come, by sacred words of comfort, quiet prayers, and the music
-she loved so well.
-
-Seeing this did more for Jo than the wisest sermons, the saintliest
-hymns, the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter; for, with
-eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest
-sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life,--uneventful,
-unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which "smell sweet, and
-blossom in the dust," the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on
-earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible
-to all.
-
-One night, when Beth looked among the books upon her table, to find
-something to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as
-hard to bear as pain, as she turned the leaves of her old favorite
-Pilgrim's Progress, she found a little paper, scribbled over in Jo's
-hand. The name caught her eye, and the blurred look of the lines made
-her sure that tears had fallen on it.
-
-"Poor Jo! she's fast asleep, so I won't wake her to ask leave; she shows
-me all her things, and I don't think she'll mind if I look at this,"
-thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the rug, with the
-tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart.
-
-
-                               "MY BETH.
-
-        "Sitting patient in the shadow
-           Till the blessed light shall come,
-         A serene and saintly presence
-           Sanctifies our troubled home.
-         Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows
-           Break like ripples on the strand
-         Of the deep and solemn river
-           Where her willing feet now stand.
-
-        "O my sister, passing from me,
-           Out of human care and strife,
-         Leave me, as a gift, those virtues
-           Which have beautified your life.
-         Dear, bequeath me that great patience
-           Which has power to sustain
-         A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit
-           In its prison-house of pain.
-
-        "Give me, for I need it sorely,
-           Of that courage, wise and sweet,
-         Which has made the path of duty
-           Green beneath your willing feet.
-         Give me that unselfish nature,
-           That with charity divine
-         Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake--
-           Meek heart, forgive me mine!
-
-        "Thus our parting daily loseth
-          Something of its bitter pain,
-         And while learning this hard lesson,
-           My great loss becomes my gain.
-         For the touch of grief will render
-           My wild nature more serene,
-         Give to life new aspirations,
-           A new trust in the unseen.
-
-        "Henceforth, safe across the river,
-           I shall see forevermore
-         A beloved, household spirit
-           Waiting for me on the shore.
-         Hope and faith, born of my sorrow,
-           Guardian angels shall become,
-         And the sister gone before me
-           By their hands shall lead me home."
-
-Blurred and blotted, faulty and feeble, as the lines were, they brought
-a look of inexpressible comfort to Beth's face, for her one regret had
-been that she had done so little; and this seemed to assure her that her
-life had not been useless, that her death would not bring the despair
-she feared. As she sat with the paper folded between her hands, the
-charred log fell asunder. Jo started up, revived the blaze, and crept to
-the bedside, hoping Beth slept.
-
-"Not asleep, but so happy, dear. See, I found this and read it; I knew
-you wouldn't care. Have I been all that to you, Jo?" she asked, with
-wistful, humble earnestness.
-
-"O Beth, so much, so much!" and Jo's head went down upon the pillow,
-beside her sister's.
-
-"Then I don't feel as if I'd wasted my life. I'm not so good as you make
-me, but I _have_ tried to do right; and now, when it's too late to
-begin even to do better, it's such a comfort to know that some one loves
-me so much, and feels as if I'd helped them."
-
-"More than any one in the world, Beth. I used to think I couldn't let
-you go; but I'm learning to feel that I don't lose you; that you'll be
-more to me than ever, and death can't part us, though it seems to."
-
-"I know it cannot, and I don't fear it any longer, for I'm sure I shall
-be your Beth still, to love and help you more than ever. You must take
-my place, Jo, and be everything to father and mother when I'm gone. They
-will turn to you, don't fail them; and if it's hard to work alone,
-remember that I don't forget you, and that you'll be happier in doing
-that than writing splendid books or seeing all the world; for love is
-the only thing that we can carry with us when we go, and it makes the
-end so easy."
-
-"I'll try, Beth;" and then and there Jo renounced her old ambition,
-pledged herself to a new and better one, acknowledging the poverty of
-other desires, and feeling the blessed solace of a belief in the
-immortality of love.
-
-So the spring days came and went, the sky grew clearer, the earth
-greener, the flowers were up fair and early, and the birds came back in
-time to say good-by to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung
-to the hands that had led her all her life, as father and mother guided
-her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God.
-
-Seldom, except in books, do the dying utter memorable words, see
-visions, or depart with beatified countenances; and those who have sped
-many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and
-simply as sleep. As Beth had hoped, the "tide went out easily;" and in
-the dark hour before the dawn, on the bosom where she had drawn her
-first breath, she quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving
-look, one little sigh.
-
-With tears and prayers and tender hands, mother and sisters made her
-ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with
-grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic
-patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling, with reverent
-joy, that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom
-full of dread.
-
-When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out,
-Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang
-blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snow-drops blossomed freshly
-at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction
-over the placid face upon the pillow,--a face so full of painless peace
-that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God
-that Beth was well at last.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                [Illustration: Sat staring up at the busts]
-
-                                  XLI.
-
-                          LEARNING TO FORGET.
-
-
-Amy's lecture did Laurie good, though, of course, he did not own it till
-long afterward; men seldom do, for when women are the advisers, the
-lords of creation don't take the advice till they have persuaded
-themselves that it is just what they intended to do; then they act upon
-it, and, if it succeeds, they give the weaker vessel half the credit of
-it; if it fails, they generously give her the whole. Laurie went back to
-his grandfather, and was so dutifully devoted for several weeks that the
-old gentleman declared the climate of Nice had improved him wonderfully,
-and he had better try it again. There was nothing the young gentleman
-would have liked better, but elephants could not have dragged him back
-after the scolding he had received; pride forbid, and whenever the
-longing grew very strong, he fortified his resolution by repeating the
-words that had made the deepest impression, "I despise you;" "Go and do
-something splendid that will _make_ her love you."
-
-Laurie turned the matter over in his mind so often that he soon brought
-himself to confess that he _had_ been selfish and lazy; but then when a
-man has a great sorrow, he should be indulged in all sorts of vagaries
-till he has lived it down. He felt that his blighted affections were
-quite dead now; and, though he should never cease to be a faithful
-mourner, there was no occasion to wear his weeds ostentatiously. Jo
-_wouldn't_ love him, but he might _make_ her respect and admire him by
-doing something which should prove that a girl's "No" had not spoilt his
-life. He had always meant to do something, and Amy's advice was quite
-unnecessary. He had only been waiting till the aforesaid blighted
-affections were decently interred; that being done, he felt that he was
-ready to "hide his stricken heart, and still toil on."
-
-As Goethe, when he had a joy or a grief, put it into a song, so Laurie
-resolved to embalm his love-sorrow in music, and compose a Requiem which
-should harrow up Jo's soul and melt the heart of every hearer. Therefore
-the next time the old gentleman found him getting restless and moody,
-and ordered him off, he went to Vienna, where he had musical friends,
-and fell to work with the firm determination to distinguish himself.
-But, whether the sorrow was too vast to be embodied in music, or music
-too ethereal to uplift a mortal woe, he soon discovered that the Requiem
-was beyond him, just at present. It was evident that his mind was not in
-working order yet, and his ideas needed clarifying; for often in the
-middle of a plaintive strain, he would find himself humming a dancing
-tune that vividly recalled the Christmas ball at Nice, especially the
-stout Frenchman, and put an effectual stop to tragic composition for the
-time being.
-
-Then he tried an Opera, for nothing seemed impossible in the beginning;
-but here, again, unforeseen difficulties beset him. He wanted Jo for his
-heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender
-recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned
-traitor; and, as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would
-only recall Jo's oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in
-the most unsentimental aspects,--beating mats with her head tied up in
-a bandanna, barricading herself with the sofa-pillow, or throwing cold
-water over his passion _à la_ Gummidge,--and an irresistible laugh
-spoilt the pensive picture he was endeavoring to paint. Jo wouldn't be
-put into the Opera at any price, and he had to give her up with a "Bless
-that girl, what a torment she is!" and a clutch at his hair, as became a
-distracted composer.
-
-When he looked about him for another and a less intractable damsel to
-immortalize in melody, memory produced one with the most obliging
-readiness. This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair,
-was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his
-mind's eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and
-blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he
-took her for his heroine, and grew quite fond of her, as well he might;
-for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted
-her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal
-woman.
-
-Thanks to this inspiration, he got on swimmingly for a time, but
-gradually the work lost its charm, and he forgot to compose, while he
-sat musing, pen in hand, or roamed about the gay city to get new ideas
-and refresh his mind, which seemed to be in a somewhat unsettled state
-that winter. He did not do much, but he thought a great deal and was
-conscious of a change of some sort going on in spite of himself. "It's
-genius simmering, perhaps. I'll let it simmer, and see what comes of
-it," he said, with a secret suspicion, all the while, that it wasn't
-genius, but something far more common. Whatever it was, it simmered to
-some purpose, for he grew more and more discontented with his desultory
-life, began to long for some real and earnest work to go at, soul and
-body, and finally came to the wise conclusion that every one who loved
-music was not a composer. Returning from one of Mozart's grand operas,
-splendidly performed at the Royal Theatre, he looked over his own,
-played a few of the best parts, sat staring up at the busts of
-Mendelssohn, Beethoven, and Bach, who stared benignly back again; then
-suddenly he tore up his music-sheets, one by one, and, as the last
-fluttered out of his hand, he said soberly to himself,--
-
-"She is right! Talent isn't genius, and you can't make it so. That
-music has taken the vanity out of me as Rome took it out of her, and I
-won't be a humbug any longer. Now what shall I do?"
-
-That seemed a hard question to answer, and Laurie began to wish he had
-to work for his daily bread. Now, if ever, occurred an eligible
-opportunity for "going to the devil," as he once forcibly expressed it,
-for he had plenty of money and nothing to do, and Satan is proverbially
-fond of providing employment for full and idle hands. The poor fellow
-had temptations enough from without and from within, but he withstood
-them pretty well; for, much as he valued liberty, he valued good faith
-and confidence more, so his promise to his grandfather, and his desire
-to be able to look honestly into the eyes of the women who loved him,
-and say "All's well," kept him safe and steady.
-
-Very likely some Mrs. Grundy will observe, "I don't believe it; boys
-will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats, and women must not
-expect miracles." I dare say _you_ don't, Mrs. Grundy, but it's true
-nevertheless. Women work a good many miracles, and I have a persuasion
-that they may perform even that of raising the standard of manhood by
-refusing to echo such sayings. Let the boys be boys, the longer the
-better, and let the young men sow their wild oats if they must; but
-mothers, sisters, and friends may help to make the crop a small one, and
-keep many tares from spoiling the harvest, by believing, and showing
-that they believe, in the possibility of loyalty to the virtues which
-make men manliest in good women's eyes. If it _is_ a feminine delusion,
-leave us to enjoy it while we may, for without it half the beauty and
-the romance of life is lost, and sorrowful forebodings would embitter
-all our hopes of the brave, tender-hearted little lads, who still love
-their mothers better than themselves, and are not ashamed to own it.
-
-Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb
-all his powers for years; but, to his great surprise, he discovered it
-grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with
-himself, and couldn't understand it; but these hearts of ours are
-curious and contrary things, and time and nature work their will in
-spite of us. Laurie's heart _wouldn't_ ache; the wound persisted in
-healing with a rapidity that astonished him, and, instead of trying to
-forget, he found himself trying to remember. He had not foreseen this
-turn of affairs, and was not prepared for it. He was disgusted with
-himself, surprised at his own fickleness, and full of a queer mixture of
-disappointment and relief that he could recover from such a tremendous
-blow so soon. He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love, but
-they refused to burst into a blaze: there was only a comfortable glow
-that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever, and he
-was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly
-subsiding into a more tranquil sentiment, very tender, a little sad and
-resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a
-brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end.
-
-As the word "brotherly" passed through his mind in one of these
-reveries, he smiled, and glanced up at the picture of Mozart that was
-before him:--
-
-"Well, he was a great man; and when he couldn't have one sister he took
-the other, and was happy."
-
-Laurie did not utter the words, but he thought them; and the next
-instant kissed the little old ring, saying to himself,--
-
-"No, I won't! I haven't forgotten, I never can. I'll try again, and if
-that fails, why, then--"
-
-Leaving his sentence unfinished, he seized pen and paper and wrote to
-Jo, telling her that he could not settle to anything while there was the
-least hope of her changing her mind. Couldn't she, wouldn't she, and let
-him come home and be happy? While waiting for an answer he did nothing,
-but he did it energetically, for he was in a fever of impatience. It
-came at last, and settled his mind effectually on one point, for Jo
-decidedly couldn't and wouldn't. She was wrapped up in Beth, and never
-wished to hear the word "love" again. Then she begged him to be happy
-with somebody else, but always to keep a little corner of his heart for
-his loving sister Jo. In a postscript she desired him not to tell Amy
-that Beth was worse; she was coming home in the spring, and there was no
-need of saddening the remainder of her stay. That would be time enough,
-please God, but Laurie must write to her often, and not let her feel
-lonely, homesick, or anxious.
-
-"So I will, at once. Poor little girl; it will be a sad going home for
-her, I'm afraid;" and Laurie opened his desk, as if writing to Amy had
-been the proper conclusion of the sentence left unfinished some weeks
-before.
-
-But he did not write the letter that day; for, as he rummaged out his
-best paper, he came across something which changed his purpose. Tumbling
-about in one part of the desk, among bills, passports, and business
-documents of various kinds, were several of Jo's letters, and in another
-compartment were three notes from Amy, carefully tied up with one of her
-blue ribbons, and sweetly suggestive of the little dead roses put away
-inside. With a half-repentant, half-amused expression, Laurie gathered
-up all Jo's letters, smoothed, folded, and put them neatly into a small
-drawer of the desk, stood a minute turning the ring thoughtfully on his
-finger, then slowly drew it off, laid it with the letters, locked the
-drawer, and went out to hear High Mass at Saint Stefan's, feeling as if
-there had been a funeral; and, though not overwhelmed with affliction,
-this seemed a more proper way to spend the rest of the day than in
-writing letters to charming young ladies.
-
-     [Illustration: Turning the ring thoughtfully upon his finger]
-
-The letter went very soon, however, and was promptly answered, for Amy
-_was_ homesick, and confessed it in the most delightfully confiding
-manner. The correspondence flourished famously, and letters flew to and
-fro, with unfailing regularity, all through the early spring. Laurie
-sold his busts, made allumettes of his opera, and went back to Paris,
-hoping somebody would arrive before long. He wanted desperately to go to
-Nice, but would not till he was asked; and Amy would not ask him, for
-just then she was having little experiences of her own, which made her
-rather wish to avoid the quizzical eyes of "our boy."
-
-Fred Vaughn had returned, and put the question to which she had once
-decided to answer "Yes, thank you;" but now she said, "No, thank you,"
-kindly but steadily; for, when the time came, her courage failed her,
-and she found that something more than money and position was needed to
-satisfy the new longing that filled her heart so full of tender hopes
-and fears. The words, "Fred is a good fellow, but not at all the man I
-fancied you would ever like," and Laurie's face when he uttered them,
-kept returning to her as pertinaciously as her own did when she said in
-look, if not in words, "I shall marry for money." It troubled her to
-remember that now, she wished she could take it back, it sounded so
-unwomanly. She didn't want Laurie to think her a heartless, worldly
-creature; she didn't care to be a queen of society now half so much as
-she did to be a lovable woman; she was so glad he didn't hate her for
-the dreadful things she said, but took them so beautifully, and was
-kinder than ever. His letters were such a comfort, for the home letters
-were very irregular, and were not half so satisfactory as his when they
-did come. It was not only a pleasure, but a duty to answer them, for the
-poor fellow was forlorn, and needed petting, since Jo persisted in being
-stony-hearted. She ought to have made an effort, and tried to love him;
-it couldn't be very hard, many people would be proud and glad to have
-such a dear boy care for them; but Jo never would act like other girls,
-so there was nothing to do but be very kind, and treat him like a
-brother.
-
-If all brothers were treated as well as Laurie was at this period, they
-would be a much happier race of beings than they are. Amy never lectured
-now; she asked his opinion on all subjects; she was interested in
-everything he did, made charming little presents for him, and sent him
-two letters a week, full of lively gossip, sisterly confidences, and
-captivating sketches of the lovely scenes about her. As few brothers are
-complimented by having their letters carried about in their sisters'
-pockets, read and reread diligently, cried over when short, kissed when
-long, and treasured carefully, we will not hint that Amy did any of
-these fond and foolish things. But she certainly did grow a little pale
-and pensive that spring, lost much of her relish for society, and went
-out sketching alone a good deal. She never had much to show when she
-came home, but was studying nature, I dare say, while she sat for hours,
-with her hands folded, on the terrace at Valrosa, or absently sketched
-any fancy that occurred to her,--a stalwart knight carved on a tomb, a
-young man asleep in the grass, with his hat over his eyes, or a
-curly-haired girl in gorgeous array, promenading down a ball-room on the
-arm of a tall gentleman, both faces being left a blur according to the
-last fashion in art, which was safe, but not altogether satisfactory.
-
-Her aunt thought that she regretted her answer to Fred; and, finding
-denials useless and explanations impossible, Amy left her to think what
-she liked, taking care that Laurie should know that Fred had gone to
-Egypt. That was all, but he understood it, and looked relieved, as he
-said to himself, with a venerable air,--
-
-"I was sure she would think better of it. Poor old fellow! I've been
-through it all, and I can sympathize."
-
-With that he heaved a great sigh, and then, as if he had discharged his
-duty to the past, put his feet up on the sofa, and enjoyed Amy's letter
-luxuriously.
-
-While these changes were going on abroad, trouble had come at home; but
-the letter telling that Beth was failing never reached Amy, and when the
-next found her, the grass was green above her sister. The sad news met
-her at Vevay, for the heat had driven them from Nice in May, and they
-had travelled slowly to Switzerland, by way of Genoa and the Italian
-lakes. She bore it very well, and quietly submitted to the family decree
-that she should not shorten her visit, for, since it was too late to say
-good-by to Beth, she had better stay, and let absence soften her sorrow.
-But her heart was very heavy; she longed to be at home, and every day
-looked wistfully across the lake, waiting for Laurie to come and comfort
-her.
-
-He did come very soon; for the same mail brought letters to them both,
-but he was in Germany, and it took some days to reach him. The moment he
-read it, he packed his knapsack, bade adieu to his fellow-pedestrians,
-and was off to keep his promise, with a heart full of joy and sorrow,
-hope and suspense.
-
-He knew Vevay well; and as soon as the boat touched the little quay, he
-hurried along the shore to La Tour, where the Carrols were living _en
-pension_. The _garçon_ was in despair that the whole family had gone to
-take a promenade on the lake; but no, the blond mademoiselle might be in
-the chateau garden. If monsieur would give himself the pain of sitting
-down, a flash of time should present her. But monsieur could not wait
-even "a flash of time," and, in the middle of the speech, departed to
-find mademoiselle himself.
-
-A pleasant old garden on the borders of the lovely lake, with chestnuts
-rustling overhead, ivy climbing everywhere, and the black shadow of the
-tower falling far across the sunny water. At one corner of the wide, low
-wall was a seat, and here Amy often came to read or work, or console
-herself with the beauty all about her. She was sitting here that day,
-leaning her head on her hand, with a homesick heart and heavy eyes,
-thinking of Beth, and wondering why Laurie did not come. She did not
-hear him cross the court-yard beyond, nor see him pause in the archway
-that led from the subterranean path into the garden. He stood a minute,
-looking at her with new eyes, seeing what no one had ever seen
-before,--the tender side of Amy's character. Everything about her mutely
-suggested love and sorrow,--the blotted letters in her lap, the black
-ribbon that tied up her hair, the womanly pain and patience in her face;
-even the little ebony cross at her throat seemed pathetic to Laurie, for
-he had given it to her, and she wore it as her only ornament. If he had
-any doubts about the reception she would give him, they were set at
-rest the minute she looked up and saw him; for, dropping everything, she
-ran to him, exclaiming, in a tone of unmistakable love and longing,--
-
-"O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you'd come to me!"
-
-          [Illustration: O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you'd come]
-
-I think everything was said and settled then; for, as they stood
-together quite silent for a moment, with the dark head bent down
-protectingly over the light one, Amy felt that no one could comfort and
-sustain her so well as Laurie, and Laurie decided that Amy was the only
-woman in the world who could fill Jo's place, and make him happy. He did
-not tell her so; but she was not disappointed, for both felt the truth,
-were satisfied, and gladly left the rest to silence.
-
-In a minute Amy went back to her place; and, while she dried her tears,
-Laurie gathered up the scattered papers, finding in the sight of sundry
-well-worn letters and suggestive sketches good omens for the future. As
-he sat down beside her, Amy felt shy again, and turned rosy red at the
-recollection of her impulsive greeting.
-
-"I couldn't help it; I felt so lonely and sad, and was so very glad to
-see you. It was such a surprise to look up and find you, just as I was
-beginning to fear you wouldn't come," she said, trying in vain to speak
-quite naturally.
-
-"I came the minute I heard. I wish I could say something to comfort you
-for the loss of dear little Beth; but I can only feel, and--" He could
-not get any further, for he, too, turned bashful all of a sudden, and
-did not quite know what to say. He longed to lay Amy's head down on his
-shoulder, and tell her to have a good cry, but he did not dare; so took
-her hand instead, and gave it a sympathetic squeeze that was better than
-words.
-
-"You needn't say anything; this comforts me," she said softly. "Beth is
-well and happy, and I mustn't wish her back; but I dread the going home,
-much as I long to see them all. We won't talk about it now, for it makes
-me cry, and I want to enjoy you while you stay. You needn't go right
-back, need you?"
-
-"Not if you want me, dear."
-
-"I do, so much. Aunt and Flo are very kind; but you seem like one of the
-family, and it would be so comfortable to have you for a little while."
-
-Amy spoke and looked so like a homesick child, whose heart was full,
-that Laurie forgot his bashfulness all at once, and gave her just what
-she wanted,--the petting she was used to and the cheerful conversation
-she needed.
-
-"Poor little soul, you look as if you'd grieved yourself half-sick! I'm
-going to take care of you, so don't cry any more, but come and walk
-about with me; the wind is too chilly for you to sit still," he said, in
-the half-caressing, half-commanding way that Amy liked, as he tied on
-her hat, drew her arm through his, and began to pace up and down the
-sunny walk, under the new-leaved chestnuts. He felt more at ease upon
-his legs; and Amy found it very pleasant to have a strong arm to lean
-upon, a familiar face to smile at her, and a kind voice to talk
-delightfully for her alone.
-
-The quaint old garden had sheltered many pairs of lovers, and seemed
-expressly made for them, so sunny and secluded was it, with nothing but
-the tower to overlook them, and the wide lake to carry away the echo of
-their words, as it rippled by below. For an hour this new pair walked
-and talked, or rested on the wall, enjoying the sweet influences which
-gave such a charm to time and place; and when an unromantic dinner-bell
-warned them away, Amy felt as if she left her burden of loneliness and
-sorrow behind her in the chateau garden.
-
-The moment Mrs. Carrol saw the girl's altered face, she was illuminated
-with a new idea, and exclaimed to herself, "Now I understand it
-all,--the child has been pining for young Laurence. Bless my heart, I
-never thought of such a thing!"
-
-With praiseworthy discretion, the good lady said nothing, and betrayed
-no sign of enlightenment; but cordially urged Laurie to stay, and begged
-Amy to enjoy his society, for it would do her more good than so much
-solitude. Amy was a model of docility; and, as her aunt was a good deal
-occupied with Flo, she was left to entertain her friend, and did it with
-more than her usual success.
-
-At Nice, Laurie had lounged and Amy had scolded; at Vevay, Laurie was
-never idle, but always walking, riding, boating, or studying, in the
-most energetic manner, while Amy admired everything he did, and followed
-his example as far and as fast as she could. He said the change was
-owing to the climate, and she did not contradict him, being glad of a
-like excuse for her own recovered health and spirits.
-
-The invigorating air did them both good, and much exercise worked
-wholesome changes in minds as well as bodies. They seemed to get clearer
-views of life and duty up there among the everlasting hills; the fresh
-winds blew away desponding doubts, delusive fancies, and moody mists;
-the warm spring sunshine brought out all sorts of aspiring ideas, tender
-hopes, and happy thoughts; the lake seemed to wash away the troubles of
-the past, and the grand old mountains to look benignly down upon them,
-saying, "Little children, love one another."
-
-In spite of the new sorrow, it was a very happy time, so happy that
-Laurie could not bear to disturb it by a word. It took him a little
-while to recover from his surprise at the rapid cure of his first, and,
-as he had firmly believed, his last and only love. He consoled himself
-for the seeming disloyalty by the thought that Jo's sister was almost
-the same as Jo's self, and the conviction that it would have been
-impossible to love any other woman but Amy so soon and so well. His
-first wooing had been of the tempestuous order, and he looked back upon
-it as if through a long vista of years, with a feeling of compassion
-blended with regret. He was not ashamed of it, but put it away as one of
-the bitter-sweet experiences of his life, for which he could be grateful
-when the pain was over. His second wooing he resolved should be as calm
-and simple as possible; there was no need of having a scene, hardly any
-need of telling Amy that he loved her; she knew it without words, and
-had given him his answer long ago. It all came about so naturally that
-no one could complain, and he knew that everybody would be pleased, even
-Jo. But when our first little passion has been crushed, we are apt to be
-wary and slow in making a second trial; so Laurie let the days pass,
-enjoying every hour, and leaving to chance the utterance of the word
-that would put an end to the first and sweetest part of his new romance.
-
-He had rather imagined that the _dénouement_ would take place in the
-chateau garden by moonlight, and in the most graceful and decorous
-manner; but it turned out exactly the reverse, for the matter was
-settled on the lake, at noonday, in a few blunt words. They had been
-floating about all the morning, from gloomy St. Gingolf to sunny
-Montreux, with the Alps of Savoy on one side, Mont St. Bernard and the
-Dent du Midi on the other, pretty Vevay in the valley, and Lausanne upon
-the hill beyond, a cloudless blue sky overhead, and the bluer lake
-below, dotted with the picturesque boats that look like white-winged
-gulls.
-
-They had been talking of Bonnivard, as they glided past Chillon, and of
-Rousseau, as they looked up at Clarens, where he wrote his "Héloise."
-Neither had read it, but they knew it was a love-story, and each
-privately wondered if it was half as interesting as their own. Amy had
-been dabbling her hand in the water during the little pause that fell
-between them, and, when she looked up, Laurie was leaning on his oars,
-with an expression in his eyes that made her say hastily, merely for the
-sake of saying something,--
-
-"You must be tired; rest a little, and let me row; it will do me good;
-for, since you came, I have been altogether lazy and luxurious."
-
-"I'm not tired; but you may take an oar, if you like. There's room
-enough, though I have to sit nearly in the middle, else the boat won't
-trim," returned Laurie, as if he rather liked the arrangement.
-
-Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third
-of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed
-as well as she did many other things; and, though she used both hands,
-and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly
-through the water.
-
-               [Illustration: How well we pull together]
-
-"How well we pull together, don't we?" said Amy, who objected to silence
-just then.
-
-"So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you,
-Amy?" very tenderly.
-
-"Yes, Laurie," very low.
-
-Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little
-_tableau_ of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected
-in the lake.
-
-
-
-
-                                 XLII.
-
-                               ALL ALONE.
-
-
-It was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapped up in
-another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example; but when
-the helpful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved
-presence gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo
-found her promise very hard to keep. How could she "comfort father and
-mother," when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her
-sister; how could she "make the house cheerful," when all its light and
-warmth and beauty seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home
-for the new; and where in all the world could she "find some useful,
-happy work to do," that would take the place of the loving service which
-had been its own reward? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her
-duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust
-that her few joys should be lessened, her burdens made heavier, and life
-get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get all
-sunshine, and some all shadow; it was not fair, for she tried more than
-Amy to be good, but never got any reward, only disappointment, trouble,
-and hard work.
-
-Poor Jo, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came
-over her when she thought of spending all her life in that quiet house,
-devoted to humdrum cares, a few small pleasures, and the duty that never
-seemed to grow any easier. "I can't do it. I wasn't meant for a life
-like this, and I know I shall break away and do something desperate if
-somebody don't come and help me," she said to herself, when her first
-efforts failed, and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind
-which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable.
-
-But some one did come and help her, though Jo did not recognize her good
-angels at once, because they wore familiar shapes, and used the simple
-spells best fitted to poor humanity. Often she started up at night,
-thinking Beth called her; and when the sight of the little empty bed
-made her cry with the bitter cry of an unsubmissive sorrow, "O Beth,
-come back! come back!" she did not stretch out her yearning arms in
-vain; for, as quick to hear her sobbing as she had been to hear her
-sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her, not with
-words only, but the patient tenderness that soothes by a touch, tears
-that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken
-whispers, more eloquent than prayers, because hopeful resignation went
-hand-in-hand with natural sorrow. Sacred moments, when heart talked to
-heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing,
-which chastened grief and strengthened love. Feeling this, Jo's burden
-seemed easier to bear, duty grew sweeter, and life looked more
-endurable, seen from the safe shelter of her mother's arms.
-
-When aching heart was a little comforted, troubled mind likewise found
-help; for one day she went to the study, and, leaning over the good gray
-head lifted to welcome her with a tranquil smile, she said, very
-humbly,--
-
-"Father, talk to me as you did to Beth. I need it more than she did, for
-I'm all wrong."
-
-"My dear, nothing can comfort me like this," he answered, with a falter
-in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he, too, needed help, and
-did not fear to ask it.
-
-                   [Illustration: Jo and her father]
-
-Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Jo told her
-troubles,--the resentful sorrow for her loss, the fruitless efforts that
-discouraged her, the want of faith that made life look so dark, and all
-the sad bewilderment which we call despair. She gave him entire
-confidence, he gave her the help she needed, and both found consolation
-in the act; for the time had come when they could talk together not only
-as father and daughter, but as man and woman, able and glad to serve
-each other with mutual sympathy as well as mutual love. Happy,
-thoughtful times there in the old study which Jo called "the church of
-one member," and from which she came with fresh courage, recovered
-cheerfulness, and a more submissive spirit; for the parents who had
-taught one child to meet death without fear, were trying now to teach
-another to accept life without despondency or distrust, and to use its
-beautiful opportunities with gratitude and power.
-
-Other helps had Jo,--humble, wholesome duties and delights that would
-not be denied their part in serving her, and which she slowly learned to
-see and value. Brooms and dishcloths never could be as distasteful as
-they once had been, for Beth had presided over both; and something of
-her housewifely spirit seemed to linger round the little mop and the old
-brush, that was never thrown away. As she used them, Jo found herself
-humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth's orderly ways, and
-giving the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and
-cosey, which was the first step toward making home happy, though she
-didn't know it, till Hannah said with an approving squeeze of the
-hand,--
-
-"You thoughtful creter, you're determined we sha'n't miss that dear lamb
-ef you can help it. We don't say much, but we see it, and the Lord will
-bless you for't, see ef He don't."
-
-As they sat sewing together, Jo discovered how much improved her sister
-Meg was; how well she could talk, how much she knew about good, womanly
-impulses, thoughts, and feelings, how happy she was in husband and
-children, and how much they were all doing for each other.
-
-"Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom
-out half as well as you have, if I tried it?" said Jo, as she
-constructed a kite for Demi, in the topsy-turvy nursery.
-
-"It's just what you need to bring out the tender, womanly half of your
-nature, Jo. You are like a chestnut-burr, prickly outside, but
-silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel, if one can only get at it. Love
-will make you show your heart some day, and then the rough burr will
-fall off."
-
-"Frost opens chestnut-burrs, ma'am, and it takes a good shake to bring
-them down. Boys go nutting, and I don't care to be bagged by them,"
-returned Jo, pasting away at the kite which no wind that blows would
-ever carry up, for Daisy had tied herself on as a bob.
-
-Meg laughed, for she was glad to see a glimmer of Jo's old spirit, but
-she felt it her duty to enforce her opinion by every argument in her
-power; and the sisterly chats were not wasted, especially as two of
-Meg's most effective arguments were the babies, whom Jo loved tenderly.
-Grief is the best opener for some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for
-the bag: a little more sunshine to ripen the nut, then, not a boy's
-impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the
-burr, and find the kernel sound and sweet. If she had suspected this,
-she would have shut up tight, and been more prickly than ever;
-fortunately she wasn't thinking about herself, so, when the time came,
-down she dropped.
-
-Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral story-book, she ought at
-this period of her life to have become quite saintly, renounced the
-world, and gone about doing good in a mortified bonnet, with tracts in
-her pocket. But, you see, Jo wasn't a heroine; she was only a struggling
-human girl, like hundreds of others, and she just acted out her nature,
-being sad, cross, listless, or energetic, as the mood suggested. It's
-highly virtuous to say we'll be good, but we can't do it all at once,
-and it takes a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together,
-before some of us even get our feet set in the right way. Jo had got so
-far, she was learning to do her duty, and to feel unhappy if she did
-not; but to do it cheerfully--ah, that was another thing! She had often
-said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how hard; and now
-she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful than to devote her
-life to father and mother, trying to make home as happy to them as they
-had to her? And, if difficulties were necessary to increase the splendor
-of the effort, what could be harder for a restless, ambitious girl than
-to give up her own hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for
-others?
-
-Providence had taken her at her word; here was the task, not what she
-had expected, but better, because self had no part in it: now, could she
-do it? She decided that she would try; and, in her first attempt, she
-found the helps I have suggested. Still another was given her, and she
-took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort, as Christian took the
-refreshment afforded by the little arbor where he rested, as he climbed
-the hill called Difficulty.
-
-"Why don't you write? That always used to make you happy," said her
-mother, once, when the desponding fit overshadowed Jo.
-
-"I've no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my things."
-
-"We do; write something for us, and never mind the rest of the world.
-Try it, dear; I'm sure it would do you good, and please us very much."
-
-"Don't believe I can;" but Jo got out her desk, and began to overhaul
-her half-finished manuscripts.
-
-An hour afterward her mother peeped in, and there she was, scratching
-away, with her black pinafore on, and an absorbed expression, which
-caused Mrs. March to smile, and slip away, well pleased with the success
-of her suggestion. Jo never knew how it happened, but something got into
-that story that went straight to the hearts of those who read it; for,
-when her family had laughed and cried over it, her father sent it, much
-against her will, to one of the popular magazines, and, to her utter
-surprise, it was not only paid for, but others requested. Letters from
-several persons, whose praise was honor, followed the appearance of the
-little story, newspapers copied it, and strangers as well as friends
-admired it. For a small thing it was a great success; and Jo was more
-astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned all at once.
-
-"I don't understand it. What _can_ there be in a simple little story
-like that, to make people praise it so?" she said, quite bewildered.
-
-"There is truth in it, Jo, that's the secret; humor and pathos make it
-alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with no thought
-of fame or money, and put your heart into it, my daughter; you have had
-the bitter, now comes the sweet. Do your best, and grow as happy as we
-are in your success."
-
-"If there _is_ anything good or true in what I write, it isn't mine; I
-owe it all to you and mother and to Beth," said Jo, more touched by her
-father's words than by any amount of praise from the world.
-
-So, taught by love and sorrow, Jo wrote her little stories, and sent
-them away to make friends for themselves and her, finding it a very
-charitable world to such humble wanderers; for they were kindly
-welcomed, and sent home comfortable tokens to their mother, like dutiful
-children whom good fortune overtakes.
-
-When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement, Mrs. March feared that Jo
-would find it difficult to rejoice over it, but her fears were soon set
-at rest; for, though Jo looked grave at first, she took it very quietly,
-and was full of hopes and plans for "the children" before she read the
-letter twice. It was a sort of written duet, wherein each glorified the
-other in lover-like fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to
-think of, for no one had any objection to make.
-
-"You like it, mother?" said Jo, as they laid down the closely written
-sheets, and looked at one another.
-
-"Yes, I hoped it would be so, ever since Amy wrote that she had refused
-Fred. I felt sure then that something better than what you call the
-'mercenary spirit' had come over her, and a hint here and there in her
-letters made me suspect that love and Laurie would win the day."
-
-"How sharp you are, Marmee, and how silent! You never said a word to
-me."
-
-"Mothers have need of sharp eyes and discreet tongues when they have
-girls to manage. I was half afraid to put the idea into your head, lest
-you should write and congratulate them before the thing was settled."
-
-"I'm not the scatter-brain I was; you may trust me, I'm sober and
-sensible enough for any one's _confidante_ now."
-
-"So you are, dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it
-might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved any one else."
-
-"Now, mother, did you really think I could be so silly and selfish,
-after I'd refused his love, when it was freshest, if not best?"
-
-"I knew you were sincere then, Jo, but lately I have thought that if he
-came back, and asked again, you might, perhaps, feel like giving another
-answer. Forgive me, dear, I can't help seeing that you are very lonely,
-and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart;
-so I fancied that your boy might fill the empty place if he tried now."
-
-"No, mother, it is better as it is, and I'm glad Amy has learned to love
-him. But you are right in one thing: I _am_ lonely, and perhaps if Teddy
-had tried again, I might have said 'Yes,' not because I love him any
-more, but because I care more to be loved than when he went away."
-
-"I'm glad of that, Jo, for it shows that you are getting on. There are
-plenty to love you, so try to be satisfied with father and mother,
-sisters and brothers, friends and babies, till the best lover of all
-comes to give you your reward."
-
-"Mothers are the _best_ lovers in the world; but I don't mind whispering
-to Marmee that I'd like to try all kinds. It's very curious, but the
-more I try to satisfy myself with all sorts of natural affections, the
-more I seem to want. I'd no idea hearts could take in so many; mine is
-so elastic, it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented
-with my family. I don't understand it."
-
-"I do;" and Mrs. March smiled her wise smile, as Jo turned back the
-leaves to read what Amy said of Laurie.
-
-"It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me; he isn't
-sentimental, doesn't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he
-says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem
-to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender
-he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of
-noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and am so proud to know it's
-mine. He says he feels as if he 'could make a prosperous voyage now
-with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.' I pray he may,
-and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all
-my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets
-us be together. O mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world
-could be, when two people love and live for one another!"
-
-"And that's our cool, reserved, and worldly Amy! Truly, love does work
-miracles. How very, very happy they must be!" And Jo laid the rustling
-sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a
-lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he
-finds himself alone in the work-a-day world again.
-
-By and by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not
-walk. A restless spirit possessed her, and the old feeling came again,
-not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one
-sister should have all she asked, the other nothing. It was not true;
-she knew that, and tried to put it away, but the natural craving for
-affection was strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for
-some one to "love with heart and soul, and cling to while God let them
-be together."
-
-Up in the garret, where Jo's unquiet wanderings ended, stood four little
-wooden chests in a row, each marked with its owner's name, and each
-filled with relics of the childhood and girlhood ended now for all. Jo
-glanced into them, and when she came to her own, leaned her chin on the
-edge, and stared absently at the chaotic collection, till a bundle of
-old exercise-books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over,
-and re-lived that pleasant winter at kind Mrs. Kirke's. She had smiled
-at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a
-little message written in the Professor's hand, her lips began to
-tremble, the books slid out of her lap, and she sat looking at the
-friendly words, as if they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot
-in her heart.
-
-"Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely
-come."
-
-"Oh, if he only would! So kind, so good, so patient with me always; my
-dear old Fritz, I didn't value him half enough when I had him, but now
-how I should love to see him, for every one seems going away from me,
-and I'm all alone."
-
-And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be
-fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag-bag, and cried, as
-if in opposition to the rain pattering on the roof.
-
-  [Illustration: Jo laid her head on a comfortable rag-bag and cried]
-
-Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? or was it the waking
-up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer?
-Who shall say?
-
-
-
-
-     [Illustration: A substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her]
-
-                                 XLIII.
-
-                               SURPRISES.
-
-
-Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the
-fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of
-dusk; no one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's little
-red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender
-thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired,
-grave, and rather sad; for to-morrow was her birthday, and she was
-thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how
-little she seemed to have accomplished. Almost twenty-five, and nothing
-to show for it. Jo was mistaken in that; there was a good deal to show,
-and by and by she saw, and was grateful for it.
-
-"An old maid, that's what I'm to be. A literary spinster, with a pen for
-a spouse, a family of stories for children, and twenty years hence a
-morsel of fame, perhaps; when, like poor Johnson, I'm old, and can't
-enjoy it, solitary, and can't share it, independent, and don't need it.
-Well, I needn't be a sour saint nor a selfish sinner; and, I dare say,
-old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it; but--" and
-there Jo sighed, as if the prospect was not inviting.
-
-It seldom is, at first, and thirty seems the end of all things to
-five-and-twenty; but it's not so bad as it looks, and one can get on
-quite happily if one has something in one's self to fall back upon. At
-twenty-five, girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly
-resolve that they never will be; at thirty they say nothing about it,
-but quietly accept the fact, and, if sensible, console themselves by
-remembering that they have twenty more useful, happy years, in which
-they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don't laugh at the
-spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragical romances are
-hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns,
-and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make
-the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters
-should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part
-of life, if for no other reason; and, looking at them with compassion,
-not contempt, girls in their bloom should remember that they too may
-miss the blossom time; that rosy cheeks don't last forever, that silver
-threads will come in the bonnie brown hair, and that, by and by,
-kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now.
-
-Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids, no matter
-how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that
-which is the readiest to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble,
-and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color. Just recollect
-the good aunts who have not only lectured and fussed, but nursed and
-petted, too often without thanks; the scrapes they have helped you out
-of, the "tips" they have given you from their small store, the stitches
-the patient old fingers have set for you, the steps the willing old feet
-have taken, and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the little attentions
-that women love to receive as long as they live. The bright-eyed girls
-are quick to see such traits, and will like you all the better for them;
-and if death, almost the only power that can part mother and son,
-should rob you of yours, you will be sure to find a tender welcome and
-maternal cherishing from some Aunt Priscilla, who has kept the warmest
-corner of her lonely old heart for the "the best nevvy in the world."
-
-Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has during this
-little homily), for suddenly Laurie's ghost seemed to stand before
-her,--a substantial, lifelike ghost,--leaning over her, with the very
-look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and didn't like to show
-it. But, like Jenny in the ballad,--
-
-        "She could not think it he,"
-
-and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and
-kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully,--
-
-"O my Teddy! O my Teddy!"
-
-"Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?"
-
-"Glad! My blessed boy, words can't express my gladness. Where's Amy?"
-
-"Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there by the way, and
-there was no getting my wife out of their clutches."
-
-"Your what?" cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two words with an
-unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him.
-
-"Oh, the dickens! now I've done it;" and he looked so guilty that Jo was
-down upon him like a flash.
-
-"You've gone and got married!"
-
-"Yes, please, but I never will again;" and he went down upon his knees,
-with a penitent clasping of hands, and a face full of mischief, mirth,
-and triumph.
-
-"Actually married?"
-
-"Very much so, thank you."
-
-"Mercy on us! What dreadful thing will you do next?" and Jo fell into
-her seat, with a gasp.
-
-"A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, congratulation,"
-returned Laurie, still in an abject attitude, but beaming with
-satisfaction.
-
-"What can you expect, when you take one's breath away, creeping in like
-a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you
-ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it."
-
-"Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to
-barricade."
-
-Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day, and patted
-the sofa invitingly, as she said, in a cordial tone,--
-
-"The old pillow is up garret, and we don't need it now; so, come and
-'fess, Teddy."
-
-"How good it sounds to hear you say 'Teddy'! No one ever calls me that
-but you;" and Laurie sat down, with an air of great content.
-
-"What does Amy call you?"
-
-"My lord."
-
-"That's like her. Well, you look it;" and Jo's eyes plainly betrayed
-that she found her boy comelier than ever.
-
-The pillow was gone, but there _was_ a barricade, nevertheless,--a
-natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of heart. Both felt it,
-and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast
-a little shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Laurie
-said, with a vain attempt at dignity,--
-
-"Don't I look like a married man and the head of a family?"
-
-"Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you
-are the same scapegrace as ever."
-
-"Now, really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect," began
-Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely.
-
-"How can I, when the mere idea of you, married and settled, is so
-irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober!" answered Jo, smiling all
-over her face, so infectiously that they had another laugh, and then
-settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion.
-
-"It's no use your going out in the cold to get Amy, for they are all
-coming up presently. I couldn't wait; I wanted to be the one to tell you
-the grand surprise, and have 'first skim,' as we used to say when we
-squabbled about the cream."
-
-"Of course you did, and spoilt your story by beginning at the wrong end.
-Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened; I'm pining to know."
-
-"Well, I did it to please Amy," began Laurie, with a twinkle that made
-Jo exclaim,--
-
-"Fib number one; Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if
-you can, sir."
-
-"Now she's beginning to marm it; isn't it jolly to hear her?" said
-Laurie to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite
-agreed. "It's all the same, you know, she and I being one. We planned to
-come home with the Carrols, a month or more ago, but they suddenly
-changed their minds, and decided to pass another winter in Paris. But
-grandpa wanted to come home; he went to please me, and I couldn't let
-him go alone, neither could I leave Amy; and Mrs. Carrol had got English
-notions about chaperons and such nonsense, and wouldn't let Amy come
-with us. So I just settled the difficulty by saying, 'Let's be married,
-and then we can do as we like.'"
-
-"Of course you did; you always have things to suit you."
-
-"Not always;" and something in Laurie's voice made Jo say hastily,--
-
-"How did you ever get aunt to agree?"
-
-"It was hard work; but, between us, we talked her over, for we had heaps
-of good reasons on our side. There wasn't time to write and ask leave,
-but you all liked it, had consented to it by and by, and it was only
-'taking Time by the fetlock,' as my wife says."
-
-"Aren't we proud of those two words, and don't we like to say them?"
-interrupted Jo, addressing the fire in her turn, and watching with
-delight the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so
-tragically gloomy when she saw them last.
-
-"A trifle, perhaps; she's such a captivating little woman I can't help
-being proud of her. Well, then, uncle and aunt were there to play
-propriety; we were so absorbed in one another we were of no mortal use
-apart, and that charming arrangement would make everything easy all
-round; so we did it."
-
-"When, where, how?" asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interest and
-curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle.
-
-"Six weeks ago, at the American consul's, in Paris; a very quiet
-wedding, of course, for even in our happiness we didn't forget dear
-little Beth."
-
-Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the
-little red pillow, which he remembered well.
-
-"Why didn't you let us know afterward?" asked Jo, in a quieter tone,
-when they had sat quite still a minute.
-
-"We wanted to surprise you; we thought we were coming directly home, at
-first; but the dear old gentleman, as soon as we were married, found he
-couldn't be ready under a month, at least, and sent us off to spend our
-honeymoon wherever we liked. Amy had once called Valrosa a regular
-honeymoon home, so we went there, and were as happy as people are but
-once in their lives. My faith! wasn't it love among the roses!"
-
-Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad of it; for the
-fact that he told her these things so freely and naturally assured her
-that he had quite forgiven and forgotten. She tried to draw away her
-hand; but, as if he guessed the thought that prompted the
-half-involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast, and said, with a manly
-gravity she had never seen in him before,--
-
-"Jo, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we'll put it by forever. As
-I told you in my letter, when I wrote that Amy had been so kind to me, I
-never shall stop loving you; but the love is altered, and I have learned
-to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you change places in my
-heart, that's all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come
-about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me; but I never
-could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong
-and violent; and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it
-_was_ one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of
-myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that
-I didn't know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love both
-alike; but I couldn't, and when I saw her in Switzerland, everything
-seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places, and
-I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on with
-the new; that I could honestly share my heart between sister Jo and wife
-Amy, and love them both dearly. Will you believe it, and go back to the
-happy old times when we first knew one another?"
-
-"I'll believe it, with all my heart; but, Teddy, we never can be boy and
-girl again: the happy old times can't come back, and we mustn't expect
-it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do, for playtime is
-over, and we must give up frolicking. I'm sure you feel this; I see the
-change in you, and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I
-shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be
-what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we
-will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives,
-won't we, Laurie?"
-
-He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his
-face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish
-passion, there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them
-both. Presently Jo said cheerfully, for she didn't want the coming home
-to be a sad one,--
-
-"I can't make it true that you children are really married, and going to
-set up housekeeping. Why, it seems only yesterday that I was buttoning
-Amy's pinafore, and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me, how
-time does fly!"
-
-"As one of the children is older than yourself, you needn't talk so like
-a grandma. I flatter myself I'm a 'gentleman growed,' as Peggotty said
-of David; and when you see Amy, you'll find her rather a precocious
-infant," said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal air.
-
-"You may be a little older in years, but I'm ever so much older in
-feeling, Teddy. Women always are; and this last year has been such a
-hard one that I feel forty."
-
-"Poor Jo! we left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring. You
-_are_ older; here's a line, and there's another; unless you smile, your
-eyes look sad, and when I touched the cushion, just now, I found a tear
-on it. You've had a great deal to bear, and had to bear it all alone.
-What a selfish beast I've been!" and Laurie pulled his own hair, with a
-remorseful look.
-
-But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered, in a tone
-which she tried to make quite cheerful,--
-
-"No, I had father and mother to help me, the dear babies to comfort me,
-and the thought that you and Amy were safe and happy, to make the
-troubles here easier to bear. I _am_ lonely, sometimes, but I dare say
-it's good for me, and--"
-
-"You never shall be again," broke in Laurie, putting his arm about her,
-as if to fence out every human ill. "Amy and I can't get on without
-you, so you must come and teach 'the children' to keep house, and go
-halves in everything, just as we used to do, and let us pet you, and all
-be blissfully happy and friendly together."
-
-"If I shouldn't be in the way, it would be very pleasant. I begin to
-feel quite young already; for, somehow, all my troubles seemed to fly
-away when you came. You always were a comfort, Teddy;" and Jo leaned her
-head on his shoulder, just as she did years ago, when Beth lay ill, and
-Laurie told her to hold on to him.
-
-He looked down at her, wondering if she remembered the time, but Jo was
-smiling to herself, as if, in truth, her troubles _had_ all vanished at
-his coming.
-
-"You are the same Jo still, dropping tears about one minute, and
-laughing the next. You look a little wicked now; what is it, grandma?"
-
-"I was wondering how you and Amy get on together."
-
-"Like angels!"
-
-"Yes, of course, at first; but which rules?"
-
-"I don't mind telling you that she does, now; at least I let her think
-so,--it pleases her, you know. By and by we shall take turns, for
-marriage, they say, halves one's rights and doubles one's duties."
-
-"You'll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of your
-life."
-
-"Well, she does it so imperceptibly that I don't think I shall mind
-much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well; in fact, I
-rather like it, for she winds one round her finger as softly and
-prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you
-a favor all the while."
-
-"That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband and enjoying
-it!" cried Jo, with uplifted hands.
-
-It was good to see Laurie square his shoulders, and smile with masculine
-scorn at that insinuation, as he replied, with his "high and mighty"
-air,--
-
-"Amy is too well-bred for that, and I am not the sort of man to submit
-to it. My wife and I respect ourselves and one another too much ever to
-tyrannize or quarrel."
-
-Jo liked that, and thought the new dignity very becoming, but the boy
-seemed changing very fast into the man, and regret mingled with her
-pleasure.
-
-"I am sure of that; Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to. She is
-the sun and I the wind, in the fable, and the sun managed the man best,
-you remember."
-
-"She can blow him up as well as shine on him," laughed Laurie. "Such a
-lecture as I got at Nice! I give you my word it was a deal worse than
-any of your scoldings,--a regular rouser. I'll tell you all about it
-sometime,--_she_ never will, because, after telling me that she despised
-and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicable party and
-married the good-for-nothing."
-
-"What baseness! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I'll defend
-you."
-
-"I look as if I needed it, don't I?" said Laurie, getting up and
-striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposing to the
-rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard calling,--
-
-"Where is she? Where's my dear old Jo?"
-
-In trooped the whole family, and every one was hugged and kissed all
-over again, and, after several vain attempts, the three wanderers were
-set down to be looked at and exulted over. Mr. Laurence, hale and hearty
-as ever, was quite as much improved as the others by his foreign tour,
-for the crustiness seemed to be nearly gone, and the old-fashioned
-courtliness had received a polish which made it kindlier than ever. It
-was good to see him beam at "my children," as he called the young pair;
-it was better still to see Amy pay him the daughterly duty and affection
-which completely won his old heart; and best of all, to watch Laurie
-revolve about the two, as if never tired of enjoying the pretty picture
-they made.
-
-The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious that her own
-dress hadn't a Parisian air, that young Mrs. Moffat would be entirely
-eclipsed by young Mrs. Laurence, and that "her ladyship" was altogether
-a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as she watched the pair,
-"How well they look together! I was right, and Laurie has found the
-beautiful, accomplished girl who will become his home better than clumsy
-old Jo, and be a pride, not a torment to him." Mrs. March and her
-husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces, for they saw
-that their youngest had done well, not only in worldly things, but the
-better wealth of love, confidence, and happiness.
-
-For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful
-heart, her voice had a new tenderness in it, and the cool, prim carriage
-was changed to a gentle dignity, both womanly and winning. No little
-affectations marred it, and the cordial sweetness of her manner was more
-charming than the new beauty or the old grace, for it stamped her at
-once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentlewoman she had hoped to
-become.
-
-"Love has done much for our little girl," said her mother softly.
-
-"She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear," Mr. March
-whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face and gray head beside
-him.
-
-Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her "pitty aunty," but
-attached herself like a lap-dog to the wonderful châtelaine full of
-delightful charms. Demi paused to consider the new relationship before
-he compromised himself by the rash acceptance of a bribe, which took the
-tempting form of a family of wooden bears from Berne. A flank movement
-produced an unconditional surrender, however, for Laurie knew where to
-have him.
-
-"Young man, when I first had the honor of making your acquaintance you
-hit me in the face: now I demand the satisfaction of a gentleman;" and
-with that the tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew
-in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much as it delighted
-his boyish soul.
-
-  [Illustration: The tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small
-                                nephew]
-
-"Blest if she ain't in silk from head to foot? Ain't it a relishin'
-sight to see her settin' there as fine as a fiddle, and hear folks
-calling little Amy, Mis. Laurence?" muttered old Hannah, who could not
-resist frequent "peeks" through the slide as she set the table in a most
-decidedly promiscuous manner.
-
-Mercy on us, how they did talk! first one, then the other, then all
-burst out together, trying to tell the history of three years in half an
-hour. It was fortunate that tea was at hand, to produce a lull and
-provide refreshment, for they would have been hoarse and faint if they
-had gone on much longer. Such a happy procession as filed away into the
-little dining-room! Mr. March proudly escorted "Mrs. Laurence;" Mrs.
-March as proudly leaned on the arm of "my son;" the old gentleman took
-Jo, with a whispered "You must be my girl now," and a glance at the
-empty corner by the fire, that made Jo whisper back, with trembling
-lips, "I'll try to fill her place, sir."
-
-The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand, for
-every one was so busy with the new-comers that they were left to revel
-at their own sweet will, and you may be sure they made the most of the
-opportunity. Didn't they steal sips of tea, stuff gingerbread _ab
-libitum_, get a hot biscuit apiece, and, as a crowning trespass, didn't
-they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets, there
-to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them that both human nature
-and pastry are frail? Burdened with the guilty consciousness of the
-sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo's sharp eyes would pierce the
-thin disguise of cambric and merino which hid their booty, the little
-sinners attached themselves to "Dranpa," who hadn't his spectacles on.
-Amy, who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the parlor on
-Father Laurence's arm; the others paired off as before, and this
-arrangement left Jo companionless. She did not mind it at the minute,
-for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry,--
-
-"Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (_coupé_), and use all them lovely
-silver dishes that's stored away over yander?"
-
-"Shouldn't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and
-wore diamonds and point-lace every day. Teddy thinks nothing too good
-for her," returned Jo with infinite satisfaction.
-
-"No more there is! Will you have hash or fish-balls for breakfast?"
-asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose.
-
-"I don't care;" and Jo shut the door, feeling that food was an
-uncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party
-vanishing above, and, as Demi's short plaid legs toiled up the last
-stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she
-looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon,
-for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was
-coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to
-herself, "I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed; it won't do to be
-dismal now." Then she drew her hand over her eyes,--for one of her
-boyish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was,--and had
-just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the
-porch-door.
-
-She opened it with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had
-come to surprise her; for there stood a tall, bearded gentleman, beaming
-on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.
-
-"O Mr. Bhaer, I _am_ so glad to see you!" cried Jo, with a clutch, as if
-she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.
-
-          [Illustration: O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you]
-
-"And I to see Miss Marsch,--but no, you haf a party--" and the Professor
-paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to
-them.
-
-"No, we haven't, only the family. My sister and friends have just come
-home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us."
-
-Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously
-away, and come again another day; but how could he, when Jo shut the
-door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had
-something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him,
-and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary
-man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.
-
-"If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You
-haf been ill, my friend?"
-
-He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light
-fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.
-
-"Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you
-last."
-
-"Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that;" and he
-shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no
-comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big,
-warm hand.
-
-"Father, mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer," she said, with a
-face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as
-well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish.
-
-If the stranger had had any doubts about his reception, they were set at
-rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Every one greeted
-him kindly, for Jo's sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his
-own. They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all
-hearts, and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even the
-more friendly because he was poor; for poverty enriches those who live
-above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bhaer
-sat looking about him with the air of a traveller who knocks at a
-strange door, and, when it opens, finds himself at home. The children
-went to him like bees to a honey-pot; and, establishing themselves on
-each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling
-his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The
-women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling
-that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his
-guest's benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but
-said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.
-
-If Jo had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behavior would have
-amused her; for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like
-suspicion, caused that gentleman to stand aloof at first, and observe
-the new-comer with brotherly circumspection. But it did not last long.
-He got interested in spite of himself, and, before he knew it, was drawn
-into the circle; for Mr. Bhaer talked well in this genial atmosphere,
-and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him
-often, and a shadow would pass across his face, as if regretting his own
-lost youth, as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eye would
-turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute
-inquiry if she had seen it; but Jo had her own eyes to take care of,
-and, feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on
-the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden aunt.
-
-A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips of fresh water
-after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps showed her several propitious
-omens. Mr. Bhaer's face had lost the absent-minded expression, and
-looked all alive with interest in the present moment, actually young and
-handsome, she thought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she
-usually did strange men, to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite
-inspired, though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the
-conversation had strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic.
-Jo quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched in an argument, and
-thought to herself, as she watched her father's absorbed face, "How he
-would enjoy having such a man as my Professor to talk with every day!"
-Lastly, Mr. Bhaer was dressed in a new suit of black, which made him
-look more like a gentleman than ever. His bushy hair had been cut and
-smoothly brushed, but didn't stay in order long, for, in exciting
-moments, he rumpled it up in the droll way he used to do; and Jo liked
-it rampantly erect better than flat, because she thought it gave his
-fine forehead a Jove-like aspect. Poor Jo, how she did glorify that
-plain man, as she sat knitting away so quietly, yet letting nothing
-escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bhaer actually had gold
-sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wristbands!
-
-"Dear old fellow! He couldn't have got himself up with more care if he'd
-been going a-wooing," said Jo to herself; and then a sudden thought,
-born of the words, made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her
-ball, and go down after it to hide her face.
-
-The manœuvre did not succeed as well as she expected, however; for,
-though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral-pile, the Professor
-dropped his torch, metaphorically speaking, and made a dive after the
-little blue ball. Of course they bumped their heads smartly together,
-saw stars, and both came up flushed and laughing, without the ball, to
-resume their seats, wishing they had not left them.
-
-Nobody knew where the evening went to; for Hannah skilfully abstracted
-the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr.
-Laurence went home to rest. The others sat round the fire, talking
-away, utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg, whose maternal
-mind was impressed with a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of
-bed, and Demi set his night-gown afire studying the structure of
-matches, made a move to go.
-
-"We must have our sing, in the good old way, for we are all together
-again once more," said Jo, feeling that a good shout would be a safe and
-pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions of her soul.
-
-They were not _all_ there. But no one found the words thoughtless or
-untrue; for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence,
-invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not break the
-household league that love made indissoluble. The little chair stood in
-its old place; the tidy basket, with the bit of work she left unfinished
-when the needle grew "so heavy," was still on its accustomed shelf; the
-beloved instrument, seldom touched now, had not been moved; and above it
-Beth's face, serene and smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon
-them, seeming to say, "Be happy. I am here."
-
-"Play something, Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved," said
-Laurie, with pardonable pride in his promising pupil.
-
-But Amy whispered, with full eyes, as she twirled the faded stool,--
-
-"Not to-night, dear. I can't show off to-night."
-
-But she did show something better than brilliancy or skill; for she sung
-Beth's songs with a tender music in her voice which the best master
-could not have taught, and touched the listeners' hearts with a sweeter
-power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very
-still, when the clear voice failed suddenly at the last line of Beth's
-favorite hymn. It was hard to say,--
-
-        "Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal;"
-
-and Amy leaned against her husband, who stood behind her, feeling that
-her welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth's kiss.
-
-"Now, we must finish with Mignon's song; for Mr. Bhaer sings that," said
-Jo, before the pause grew painful. And Mr. Bhaer cleared his throat with
-a gratified "Hem!" as he stepped into the corner where Jo stood,
-saying,--
-
-"You will sing with me? We go excellently well together."
-
-A pleasing fiction, by the way; for Jo had no more idea of music than a
-grasshopper. But she would have consented if he had proposed to sing a
-whole opera, and warbled away, blissfully regardless of time and tune.
-It didn't much matter; for Mr. Bhaer sang like a true German, heartily
-and well; and Jo soon subsided into a subdued hum, that she might listen
-to the mellow voice that seemed to sing for her alone.
-
-                [Illustration: Mr. Bhaer sang heartily]
-
-        "Know'st thou the land where the citron blooms,"
-
-used to be the Professor's favorite line, for "das land" meant Germany
-to him; but now he seemed to dwell, with peculiar warmth and melody,
-upon the words,--
-
-        "There, oh there, might I with thee,
-         O my beloved, go!"
-
-and one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that she
-longed to say she did know the land, and would joyfully depart thither
-whenever he liked.
-
-The song was considered a great success, and the singer retired covered
-with laurels. But a few minutes afterward, he forgot his manners
-entirely, and stared at Amy putting on her bonnet; for she had been
-introduced simply as "my sister," and no one had called her by her new
-name since he came. He forgot himself still further when Laurie said, in
-his most gracious manner, at parting,--
-
-"My wife and I are very glad to meet you, sir. Please remember that
-there is always a welcome waiting for you over the way."
-
-Then the Professor thanked him so heartily, and looked so suddenly
-illuminated with satisfaction, that Laurie thought him the most
-delightfully demonstrative old fellow he ever met.
-
-"I too shall go; but I shall gladly come again, if you will gif me
-leave, dear madame, for a little business in the city will keep me here
-some days."
-
-He spoke to Mrs. March, but he looked at Jo; and the mother's voice gave
-as cordial an assent as did the daughter's eyes; for Mrs. March was not
-so blind to her children's interest as Mrs. Moffat supposed.
-
-"I suspect that is a wise man," remarked Mr. March, with placid
-satisfaction, from the hearth-rug, after the last guest had gone.
-
-"I know he is a good one," added Mrs. March, with decided approval, as
-she wound up the clock.
-
-"I thought you'd like him," was all Jo said, as she slipped away to her
-bed.
-
-She wondered what the business was that brought Mr. Bhaer to the city,
-and finally decided that he had been appointed to some great honor,
-somewhere, but had been too modest to mention the fact. If she had seen
-his face when, safe in his own room, he looked at the picture of a
-severe and rigid young lady, with a good deal of hair, who appeared to
-be gazing darkly into futurity, it might have thrown some light upon the
-subject, especially when he turned off the gas, and kissed the picture
-in the dark.
-
-
-
-
-       [Illustration: Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother's lap]
-
-                                 XLIV.
-
-                           MY LORD AND LADY.
-
-
-"Please, Madam Mother, could you lend me my wife for half an hour? The
-luggage has come, and I've been making hay of Amy's Paris finery, trying
-to find some things I want," said Laurie, coming in the next day to find
-Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother's lap, as if being made "the baby"
-again.
-
-"Certainly. Go, dear; I forget that you have any home but this," and
-Mrs. March pressed the white hand that wore the wedding-ring, as if
-asking pardon for her maternal covetousness.
-
-"I shouldn't have come over if I could have helped it; but I can't get
-on without my little woman any more than a--"
-
-"Weathercock can without wind," suggested Jo, as he paused for a simile;
-Jo had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home.
-
-"Exactly; for Amy keeps me pointing due west most of the time, with only
-an occasional whiffle round to the south, and I haven't had an easterly
-spell since I was married; don't know anything about the north, but am
-altogether salubrious and balmy, hey, my lady?"
-
-"Lovely weather so far; I don't know how long it will last, but I'm not
-afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship. Come home, dear,
-and I'll find your bootjack; I suppose that's what you are rummaging
-after among my things. Men are _so_ helpless, mother," said Amy, with a
-matronly air, which delighted her husband.
-
-"What are you going to do with yourselves after you get settled?" asked
-Jo, buttoning Amy's cloak as she used to button her pinafores.
-
-"We have our plans; we don't mean to say much about them yet, because we
-are such very new brooms, but we don't intend to be idle. I'm going into
-business with a devotion that shall delight grandfather, and prove to
-him that I'm not spoilt. I need something of the sort to keep me steady.
-I'm tired of dawdling, and mean to work like a man."
-
-"And Amy, what is she going to do?" asked Mrs. March, well pleased at
-Laurie's decision, and the energy with which he spoke.
-
-"After doing the civil all round, and airing our best bonnet, we shall
-astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion, the brilliant
-society we shall draw about us, and the beneficial influence we shall
-exert over the world at large. That's about it, isn't it, Madame
-Récamier?" asked Laurie, with a quizzical look at Amy.
-
-"Time will show. Come away, Impertinence, and don't shock my family by
-calling me names before their faces," answered Amy, resolving that there
-should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a _salon_ as a
-queen of society.
-
-"How happy those children seem together!" observed Mr. March, finding it
-difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple had
-gone.
-
-"Yes, and I think it will last," added Mrs. March, with the restful
-expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port.
-
-"I know it will. Happy Amy!" and Jo sighed, then smiled brightly as
-Professor Bhaer opened the gate with an impatient push.
-
-Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the
-bootjack, Laurie said suddenly to his wife, who was flitting about,
-arranging her new art treasures,--
-
-"Mrs. Laurence."
-
-"My lord!"
-
-"That man intends to marry our Jo!"
-
-"I hope so; don't you, dear?"
-
-"Well, my love, I consider him a trump, in the fullest sense of that
-expressive word, but I do wish he was a little younger and a good deal
-richer."
-
-"Now, Laurie, don't be too fastidious and worldly-minded. If they love
-one another it doesn't matter a particle how old they are nor how poor.
-Women _never_ should marry for money--" Amy caught herself up short as
-the words escaped her, and looked at her husband, who replied, with
-malicious gravity,--
-
-"Certainly not, though you do hear charming girls say that they intend
-to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it your
-duty to make a rich match; that accounts, perhaps, for your marrying a
-good-for-nothing like me."
-
-"O my dearest boy, don't, don't say that! I forgot you were rich when I
-said 'Yes.' I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny, and I sometimes
-wish you _were_ poor that I might show how much I love you;" and Amy,
-who was very dignified in public and very fond in private, gave
-convincing proofs of the truth of her words.
-
-"You don't really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be
-once, do you? It would break my heart if you didn't believe that I'd
-gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your
-living by rowing on the lake."
-
-"Am I an idiot and a brute? How could I think so, when you refused a
-richer man for me, and won't let me give you half I want to now, when I
-have the right? Girls do it every day, poor things, and are taught to
-think it is their only salvation; but you had better lessons, and,
-though I trembled for you at one time, I was not disappointed, for the
-daughter was true to the mother's teaching. I told mamma so yesterday,
-and she looked as glad and grateful as if I'd given her a check for a
-million, to be spent in charity. You are not listening to my moral
-remarks, Mrs. Laurence;" and Laurie paused, for Amy's eyes had an absent
-look, though fixed upon his face.
-
-"Yes, I am, and admiring the dimple in your chin at the same time. I
-don't wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I'm prouder of my
-handsome husband than of all his money. Don't laugh, but your nose is
-_such_ a comfort to me;" and Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature
-with artistic satisfaction.
-
-Laurie had received many compliments in his life, but never one that
-suited him better, as he plainly showed, though he did laugh at his
-wife's peculiar taste, while she said slowly,--
-
-"May I ask you a question, dear?"
-
-"Of course you may."
-
-"Shall you care if Jo does marry Mr. Bhaer?"
-
-"Oh, that's the trouble, is it? I thought there was something in the
-dimple that didn't suit you. Not being a dog in the manger, but the
-happiest fellow alive, I assure you I can dance at Jo's wedding with a
-heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling?"
-
-Amy looked up at him, and was satisfied; her last little jealous fear
-vanished forever, and she thanked him, with a face full of love and
-confidence.
-
-"I wish we could do something for that capital old Professor. Couldn't
-we invent a rich relation, who shall obligingly die out there in
-Germany, and leave him a tidy little fortune?" said Laurie, when they
-began to pace up and down the long drawing-room, arm-in-arm, as they
-were fond of doing, in memory of the chateau garden.
-
-             [Illustration: They began to pace up and down]
-
-"Jo would find us out, and spoil it all; she is very proud of him, just
-as he is, and said yesterday that she thought poverty was a beautiful
-thing."
-
-"Bless her dear heart! she won't think so when she has a literary
-husband, and a dozen little professors and professorins to support. We
-won't interfere now, but watch our chance, and do them a good turn in
-spite of themselves. I owe Jo for a part of my education, and she
-believes in people's paying their honest debts, so I'll get round her in
-that way."
-
-"How delightful it is to be able to help others, isn't it? That was
-always one of my dreams, to have the power of giving freely; and, thanks
-to you, the dream has come true."
-
-"Ah! we'll do quantities of good, won't we? There's one sort of poverty
-that I particularly like to help. Out-and-out beggars get taken care of,
-but poor gentlefolks fare badly, because they won't ask, and people
-don't dare to offer charity; yet there are a thousand ways of helping
-them, if one only knows how to do it so delicately that it does not
-offend. I must say, I like to serve a decayed gentleman better than a
-blarneying beggar; I suppose it's wrong, but I do, though it is
-harder."
-
-"Because it takes a gentleman to do it," added the other member of the
-domestic admiration society.
-
-"Thank you, I'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment. But I was
-going to say that while I was dawdling about abroad, I saw a good many
-talented young fellows making all sorts of sacrifices, and enduring real
-hardships, that they might realize their dreams. Splendid fellows, some
-of them, working like heroes, poor and friendless, but so full of
-courage, patience, and ambition, that I was ashamed of myself, and
-longed to give them a right good lift. Those are people whom it's a
-satisfaction to help, for if they've got genius, it's an honor to be
-allowed to serve them, and not let it be lost or delayed for want of
-fuel to keep the pot boiling; if they haven't, it's a pleasure to
-comfort the poor souls, and keep them from despair when they find it
-out."
-
-"Yes, indeed; and there's another class who can't ask, and who suffer in
-silence. I know something of it, for I belonged to it before you made a
-princess of me, as the king does the beggar-maid in the old story.
-Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth,
-health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help
-at the right minute. People have been very kind to me; and whenever I
-see girls struggling along, as we used to do, I want to put out my hand
-and help them, as I was helped."
-
-"And so you shall, like an angel as you are!" cried Laurie, resolving,
-with a glow of philanthropic zeal, to found and endow an institution for
-the express benefit of young women with artistic tendencies. "Rich
-people have no right to sit down and enjoy themselves, or let their
-money accumulate for others to waste. It's not half so sensible to leave
-legacies when one dies as it is to use the money wisely while alive, and
-enjoy making one's fellow-creatures happy with it. We'll have a good
-time ourselves, and add an extra relish to our own pleasure by giving
-other people a generous taste. Will you be a little Dorcas, going about
-emptying a big basket of comforts, and filling it up with good deeds?"
-
-"With all my heart, if you will be a brave St. Martin, stopping, as you
-ride gallantly through the world, to share your cloak with the beggar."
-
-"It's a bargain, and we shall get the best of it!"
-
-So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again,
-feeling that their pleasant home was more home-like because they hoped
-to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more
-uprightly along the flowery path before them, if they smoothed rough
-ways for other feet, and feeling that their hearts were more closely
-knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blest
-than they.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                                  XLV.
-
-                            DAISY AND DEMI.
-
-
-I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March
-family, without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious
-and important members of it. Daisy and Demi had now arrived at years of
-discretion; for in this fast age babies of three or four assert their
-rights, and get them, too, which is more than many of their elders do.
-If there ever were a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoilt by
-adoration, it was these prattling Brookes. Of course they were the most
-remarkable children ever born, as will be shown when I mention that they
-walked at eight months, talked fluently at twelve months, and at two
-years they took their places at table, and behaved with a propriety
-which charmed all beholders. At three, Daisy demanded a "needler," and
-actually made a bag with four stitches in it; she likewise set up
-housekeeping in the sideboard, and managed a microscopic cooking-stove
-with a skill that brought tears of pride to Hannah's eyes, while Demi
-learned his letters with his grandfather, who invented a new mode of
-teaching the alphabet by forming the letters with his arms and legs,
-thus uniting gymnastics for head and heels. The boy early developed a
-mechanical genius which delighted his father and distracted his mother,
-for he tried to imitate every machine he saw, and kept the nursery in a
-chaotic condition, with his "sewin-sheen,"--a mysterious structure of
-string, chairs, clothes-pins, and spools, for wheels to go "wound and
-wound;" also a basket hung over the back of a big chair, in which he
-vainly tried to hoist his too confiding sister, who, with feminine
-devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued, when the
-young inventor indignantly remarked, "Why, marmar, dat's my lellywaiter,
-and me's trying to pull her up."
-
-Though utterly unlike in character, the twins got on remarkably well
-together, and seldom quarrelled more than thrice a day. Of course, Demi
-tyrannized over Daisy, and gallantly defended her from every other
-aggressor; while Daisy made a galley-slave of herself, and adored her
-brother as the one perfect being in the world. A rosy, chubby, sunshiny
-little soul was Daisy, who found her way to everybody's heart, and
-nestled there. One of the captivating children, who seem made to be
-kissed and cuddled, adorned and adored like little goddesses, and
-produced for general approval on all festive occasions. Her small
-virtues were so sweet that she would have been quite angelic if a few
-small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully human. It was all fair
-weather in her world, and every morning she scrambled up to the window
-in her little night-gown to look out, and say, no matter whether it
-rained or shone, "Oh, pitty day, oh, pitty day!" Every one was a friend,
-and she offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly that the most
-inveterate bachelor relented, and baby-lovers became faithful
-worshippers.
-
-                   [Illustration: Me loves evvybody]
-
-"Me loves evvybody," she once said, opening her arms, with her spoon in
-one hand, and her mug in the other, as if eager to embrace and nourish
-the whole world.
-
-As she grew, her mother began to feel that the Dove-cote would be blest
-by the presence of an inmate as serene and loving as that which had
-helped to make the old house home, and to pray that she might be spared
-a loss like that which had lately taught them how long they had
-entertained an angel unawares. Her grandfather often called her "Beth,"
-and her grandmother watched over her with untiring devotion, as if
-trying to atone for some past mistake, which no eye but her own could
-see.
-
-Demi, like a true Yankee, was of an inquiring turn, wanting to know
-everything, and often getting much disturbed because he could not get
-satisfactory answers to his perpetual "What for?"
-
-He also possessed a philosophic bent, to the great delight of his
-grandfather, who used to hold Socratic conversations with him, in which
-the precocious pupil occasionally posed his teacher, to the undisguised
-satisfaction of the womenfolk.
-
-             [Illustration: What makes my legs go, dranpa?]
-
-"What makes my legs go, dranpa?" asked the young philosopher, surveying
-those active portions of his frame with a meditative air, while resting
-after a go-to-bed frolic one night.
-
-"It's your little mind, Demi," replied the sage, stroking the yellow
-head respectfully.
-
-"What is a little mine?"
-
-"It is something which makes your body move, as the spring made the
-wheels go in my watch when I showed it to you."
-
-"Open me; I want to see it go wound."
-
-"I can't do that any more than you could open the watch. God winds you
-up, and you go till He stops you."
-
-"Does I?" and Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in the
-new thought. "Is I wounded up like the watch?"
-
-"Yes; but I can't show you how; for it is done when we don't see."
-
-Demi felt of his back, as if expecting to find it like that of the
-watch, and then gravely remarked,--
-
-"I dess Dod does it when I's asleep."
-
-A careful explanation followed, to which he listened so attentively that
-his anxious grandmother said,--
-
-"My dear, do you think it wise to talk about such things to that baby?
-He's getting great bumps over his eyes, and learning to ask the most
-unanswerable questions."
-
-"If he is old enough to ask the questions he is old enough to receive
-true answers. I am not putting the thoughts into his head, but helping
-him unfold those already there. These children are wiser than we are,
-and I have no doubt the boy understands every word I have said to him.
-Now, Demi, tell me where you keep your mind?"
-
-If the boy had replied like Alcibiades, "By the gods, Socrates, I cannot
-tell," his grandfather would not have been surprised; but when, after
-standing a moment on one leg, like a meditative young stork, he
-answered, in a tone of calm conviction, "In my little belly," the old
-gentleman could only join in grandma's laugh, and dismiss the class in
-metaphysics.
-
-There might have been cause for maternal anxiety, if Demi had not given
-convincing proofs that he was a true boy, as well as a budding
-philosopher; for, often, after a discussion which caused Hannah to
-prophesy, with ominous nods, "That child ain't long for this world," he
-would turn about and set her fears at rest by some of the pranks with
-which dear, dirty, naughty little rascals distract and delight their
-parents' souls.
-
-Meg made many moral rules, and tried to keep them; but what mother was
-ever proof against the winning wiles, the ingenious evasions, or the
-tranquil audacity of the miniature men and women who so early show
-themselves accomplished Artful Dodgers?
-
-"No more raisins, Demi, they'll make you sick," says mamma to the young
-person who offers his services in the kitchen with unfailing regularity
-on plum-pudding day.
-
-"Me likes to be sick."
-
-"I don't want to have you, so run away and help Daisy make patty-cakes."
-
-He reluctantly departs, but his wrongs weigh upon his spirit; and, by
-and by, when an opportunity comes to redress them, he outwits mamma by a
-shrewd bargain.
-
-"Now you have been good children, and I'll play anything you like," says
-Meg, as she leads her assistant cooks upstairs, when the pudding is
-safely bouncing in the pot.
-
-"Truly, marmar?" asks Demi, with a brilliant idea in his well-powdered
-head.
-
-"Yes, truly; anything you say," replies the short-sighted parent,
-preparing herself to sing "The Three Little Kittens" half a dozen times
-over, or to take her family to "Buy a penny bun," regardless of wind or
-limb. But Demi corners her by the cool reply,--
-
-"Then we'll go and eat up all the raisins."
-
-Aunt Dodo was chief playmate and _confidante_ of both children, and the
-trio turned the little house topsy-turvy. Aunt Amy was as yet only a
-name to them, Aunt Beth soon faded into a pleasantly vague memory, but
-Aunt Dodo was a living reality, and they made the most of her, for which
-compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bhaer came, Jo
-neglected her playfellows, and dismay and desolation fell upon their
-little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses, lost
-her best customer and became bankrupt; Demi, with infantile penetration,
-soon discovered that Dodo liked to play with "the bear-man" better than
-she did with him; but, though hurt, he concealed his anguish, for he
-hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate-drops in
-his waistcoat-pocket, and a watch that could be taken out of its case
-and freely shaken by ardent admirers.
-
-Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes;
-but Demi didn't see it in that light, and continued to patronize the
-"bear-man" with pensive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small
-affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulder her
-throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts treasures of surpassing worth.
-
-Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the
-young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard; but this
-counterfeit philoprogenitiveness sits uneasily upon them, and does not
-deceive anybody a particle. Mr. Bhaer's devotion was sincere, however
-likewise effective,--for honesty is the best policy in love as in law;
-he was one of the men who are at home with children, and looked
-particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his
-manly one. His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day,
-but evening seldom failed to bring him out to see--well, he always asked
-for Mr. March, so I suppose _he_ was the attraction. The excellent papa
-labored under the delusion that he was, and revelled in long discussions
-with the kindred spirit, till a chance remark of his more observing
-grandson suddenly enlightened him.
-
-Mr. Bhaer came in one evening to pause on the threshold of the study,
-astonished by the spectacle that met his eye. Prone upon the floor lay
-Mr. March, with his respectable legs in the air, and beside him,
-likewise prone, was Demi, trying to imitate the attitude with his own
-short, scarlet-stockinged legs, both grovellers so seriously absorbed
-that they were unconscious of spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his
-sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a scandalized face,--
-
-"Father, father, here's the Professor!"
-
-Down went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the preceptor
-said, with undisturbed dignity,--
-
-"Good evening, Mr. Bhaer. Excuse me for a moment; we are just finishing
-our lesson. Now, Demi, make the letter and tell its name."
-
-"I knows him!" and, after a few convulsive efforts, the red legs took
-the shape of a pair of compasses, and the intelligent pupil triumphantly
-shouted, "It's a We, dranpa, it's a We!"
-
-                   [Illustration: Dranpa, it's a We]
-
-"He's a born Weller," laughed Jo, as her parent gathered himself up, and
-her nephew tried to stand on his head, as the only mode of expressing
-his satisfaction that school was over.
-
-"What have you been at to-day, bübchen?" asked Mr. Bhaer, picking up the
-gymnast.
-
-"Me went to see little Mary."
-
-"And what did you there?"
-
-"I kissed her," began Demi, with artless frankness.
-
-"Prut! thou beginnest early. What did the little Mary say to that?"
-asked Mr. Bhaer, continuing to confess the young sinner, who stood upon
-his knee, exploring the waistcoat-pocket.
-
-"Oh, she liked it, and she kissed me, and I liked it. _Don't_ little
-boys like little girls?" added Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of
-bland satisfaction.
-
-"You precocious chick! Who put that into your head?" said Jo, enjoying
-the innocent revelations as much as the Professor.
-
-"'Tisn't in mine head; it's in mine mouf," answered literal Demi,
-putting out his tongue, with a chocolate-drop on it, thinking she
-alluded to confectionery, not ideas.
-
-"Thou shouldst save some for the little friend: sweets to the sweet,
-mannling;" and Mr. Bhaer offered Jo some, with a look that made her
-wonder if chocolate was not the nectar drunk by the gods. Demi also saw
-the smile, was impressed by it, and artlessly inquired,--
-
-"Do great boys like great girls, too, 'Fessor?"
-
-Like young Washington, Mr. Bhaer "couldn't tell a lie;" so he gave the
-somewhat vague reply that he believed they did sometimes, in a tone that
-made Mr. March put down his clothes-brush, glance at Jo's retiring face,
-and then sink into his chair, looking as if the "precocious chick" had
-put an idea into _his_ head that was both sweet and sour.
-
-Why Dodo, when she caught him in the china-closet half an hour
-afterward, nearly squeezed the breath out of his little body with a
-tender embrace, instead of shaking him for being there, and why she
-followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gift of a big slice
-of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled
-his small wits, and was forced to leave unsolved forever.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-       [Illustration: Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades]
-
-                                 XLVI.
-
-                          UNDER THE UMBRELLA.
-
-
-While Laurie and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets,
-as they set their house in order, and planned a blissful future, Mr.
-Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy
-roads and sodden fields.
-
-"I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don't know why I should
-give it up, just because I often happen to meet the Professor on his way
-out," said Jo to herself, after two or three encounters; for, though
-there were two paths to Meg's, whichever one she took she was sure to
-meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly, and
-never seemed to see her till quite close, when he would look as if his
-short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till
-that moment. Then, if she was going to Meg's, he always had something
-for the babies; if her face was turned homeward, he had merely strolled
-down to see the river, and was just about returning, unless they were
-tired of his frequent calls.
-
-Under the circumstances, what could Jo do but greet him civilly, and
-invite him in? If she _was_ tired of his visits, she concealed her
-weariness with perfect skill, and took care that there should be coffee
-for supper, "as Friedrich--I mean Mr. Bhaer--doesn't like tea."
-
-By the second week, every one knew perfectly well what was going on, yet
-every one tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in
-Jo's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair
-three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise; and no
-one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bhaer, while
-talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons in
-love.
-
-Jo couldn't even lose her heart in a decorous manner, but sternly tried
-to quench her feelings; and, failing to do so, led a somewhat agitated
-life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering,
-after her many and vehement declarations of independence. Laurie was her
-especial dread; but, thanks to the new manager, he behaved with
-praiseworthy propriety, never called Mr. Bhaer "a capital old fellow" in
-public, never alluded, in the remotest manner, to Jo's improved
-appearance, or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's
-hat on the Marches' hall-table nearly every evening. But he exulted in
-private and longed for the time to come when he could give Jo a piece of
-plate, with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate
-coat-of-arms.
-
-For a fortnight, the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity;
-then he stayed away for three whole days, and made no sign,--a
-proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Jo to become
-pensive, at first, and then--alas for romance!--very cross.
-
-"Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's
-nothing to me, of course; but I _should_ think he would have come and
-bid us good-by, like a gentleman," she said to herself, with a
-despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for the customary
-walk, one dull afternoon.
-
-"You'd better take the little umbrella, dear; it looks like rain," said
-her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding
-to the fact.
-
-"Yes, Marmee; do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get
-some paper," returned Jo, pulling out the bow under her chin before the
-glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother.
-
-"Yes; I want some twilled silesia, a paper of number nine needles, and
-two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on,
-and something warm under your cloak?"
-
-"I believe so," answered Jo absently.
-
-"If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea. I quite long to
-see the dear man," added Mrs. March.
-
-Jo heard _that_, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother, and walk
-rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite of her
-heartache,--
-
-"How good she is to me! What _do_ girls do who haven't any mothers to
-help them through their troubles?"
-
-The dry-goods stores were not down among the counting-houses, banks, and
-wholesale warerooms, where gentlemen most do congregate; but Jo found
-herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand,
-loitering along as if waiting for some one, examining engineering
-instruments in one window and samples of wool in another with most
-unfeminine interest; tumbling over barrels, being half-smothered by
-descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as
-if they wondered "how the deuce she got there." A drop of rain on her
-cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons; for
-the drops continued to fall, and, being a woman as well as a lover, she
-felt that, though it was too late to save her heart, she might her
-bonnet. Now she remembered the little umbrella, which she had forgotten
-to take in her hurry to be off; but regret was unavailing, and nothing
-could be done but borrow one or submit to a drenching. She looked up at
-the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black,
-forward along the muddy street, then one long, lingering look behind, at
-a certain grimy warehouse, with "Hoffmann, Swartz, & Co." over the door,
-and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air,--
-
-"It serves me right! What business had I to put on all my best things
-and come philandering down here, hoping to see the Professor? Jo, I'm
-ashamed of you! No, you shall _not_ go there to borrow an umbrella, or
-find out where he is, from his friends. You shall trudge away, and do
-your errands in the rain; and if you catch your death and ruin your
-bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now then!"
-
-With that she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly
-escaped annihilation from a passing truck, and precipitated herself into
-the arms of a stately old gentleman, who said, "I beg pardon, ma'am,"
-and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Jo righted herself,
-spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons, and, putting
-temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the
-ankles, and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a
-somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected
-bonnet, attracted her attention; and, looking up, she saw Mr. Bhaer
-looking down.
-
-              [Illustration: Looking up she saw Mr. Bhaer]
-
-"I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many
-horse-noses, and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my
-friend?"
-
-"I'm shopping."
-
-Mr. Bhaer smiled, as he glanced from the pickle-factory on one side, to
-the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other; but he only said
-politely,--
-
-"You haf no umbrella. May I go also, and take for you the bundles?"
-
-"Yes, thank you."
-
-Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought
-of her; but she didn't care, for in a minute she found herself walking
-away arm-in-arm with her Professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly
-burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again,
-and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that
-day.
-
-"We thought you had gone," said Jo hastily, for she knew he was looking
-at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he
-might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.
-
-"Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been
-so heavenly kind to me?" he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if
-she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily,--
-
-"No, _I_ didn't; I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we
-rather missed you,--father and mother especially."
-
-"And you?"
-
-"I'm always glad to see you, sir."
-
-In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Jo made it rather cool, and
-the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the Professor,
-for his smile vanished, as he said gravely,--
-
-"I thank you, and come one time more before I go."
-
-"You _are_ going, then?"
-
-"I haf no longer any business here; it is done."
-
-"Successfully, I hope?" said Jo, for the bitterness of disappointment
-was in that short reply of his.
-
-"I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make
-my bread and gif my Jünglings much help."
-
-"Tell me, please! I like to know all about the--the boys," said Jo
-eagerly.
-
-"That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in
-a college, where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way
-smooth for Franz and Emil. For this I should be grateful, should I not?"
-
-"Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you
-like, and be able to see you often, and the boys!" cried Jo, clinging to
-the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying.
-
-"Ah! but we shall not meet often, I fear; this place is at the West."
-
-"So far away!" and Jo left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't
-matter now what became of her clothes or herself.
-
-Mr. Bhaer could read several languages, but he had not learned to read
-women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Jo pretty well, and was,
-therefore, much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face, and manner,
-which she showed him in rapid succession that day, for she was in half a
-dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him
-she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that
-she had come for that express purpose. When he offered her his arm, she
-took it with a look that filled him with delight; but when he asked if
-she missed him, she gave such a chilly, formal reply that despair fell
-upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clapped her hands: was
-the joy all for the boys? Then, on hearing his destination, she said,
-"So far away!" in a tone of despair that lifted him on to a pinnacle of
-hope; but the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like
-one entirely absorbed in the matter,--
-
-"Here's the place for my errands; will you come in? It won't take long."
-
-Jo rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and
-particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and despatch
-with which she would accomplish the business. But, owing to the flutter
-she was in, everything went amiss; she upset the tray of needles, forgot
-the silesia was to be "twilled" till it was cut off, gave the wrong
-change, and covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon
-at the calico counter. Mr. Bhaer stood by, watching her blush and
-blunder; and, as he watched, his own bewilderment seemed to subside,
-for he was beginning to see that on some occasions women, like dreams,
-go by contraries.
-
-When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful
-aspect, and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it, on
-the whole.
-
-"Should we not do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and
-haf a farewell feast to-night if I go for my last call at your so
-pleasant home?" he asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and
-flowers.
-
-"What will we buy?" said Jo, ignoring the latter part of his speech, and
-sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went
-in.
-
-"May they haf oranges and figs?" asked Mr. Bhaer, with a paternal air.
-
-"They eat them when they can get them."
-
-"Do you care for nuts?"
-
-"Like a squirrel."
-
-"Hamburg grapes; yes, we shall surely drink to the Fatherland in those?"
-
-Jo frowned upon that piece of extravagance, and asked why he didn't buy
-a frail of dates, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds, and done with
-it? Whereat Mr. Bhaer confiscated her purse, produced his own, and
-finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy
-daisies, and a pretty jar of honey, to be regarded in the light of a
-demijohn. Then, distorting his pockets with the knobby bundles, and
-giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella, and they
-travelled on again.
-
-"Miss Marsch, I haf a great favor to ask of you," began the Professor,
-after a moist promenade of half a block.
-
-"Yes, sir;" and Jo's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would
-hear it.
-
-"I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time
-remains to me."
-
-"Yes, sir;" and Jo nearly crushed the small flower-pot with the sudden
-squeeze she gave it.
-
-"I wish to get a little dress for my Tina, and I am too stupid to go
-alone. Will you kindly gif me a word of taste and help?"
-
-"Yes, sir;" and Jo felt as calm and cool, all of a sudden, as if she had
-stepped into a refrigerator.
-
-"Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother, she is so poor and sick, and
-the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a
-friendly thing to take the little mother."
-
-"I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bhaer. I'm going very fast and he's
-getting dearer every minute," added Jo to herself; then, with a mental
-shake, she entered into the business with an energy which was pleasant
-to behold.
-
-Mr. Bhaer left it all to her, so she chose a pretty gown for Tina, and
-then ordered out the shawls. The clerk, being a married man,
-condescended to take an interest in the couple, who appeared to be
-shopping for their family.
-
-"Your lady may prefer this; it's a superior article, a most desirable
-color, quite chaste and genteel," he said, shaking out a comfortable
-gray shawl, and throwing it over Jo's shoulders.
-
-             [Illustration: Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?]
-
-"Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?" she asked, turning her back to him,
-and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face.
-
-"Excellently well; we will haf it," answered the Professor, smiling to
-himself as he paid for it, while Jo continued to rummage the counters
-like a confirmed bargain-hunter.
-
-"Now shall we go home?" he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to
-him.
-
-"Yes; it's late, and I'm _so_ tired." Jo's voice was more pathetic than
-she knew; for now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came
-out, the world grew muddy and miserable again, and for the first time
-she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached, and that her
-heart was colder than the former, fuller of pain than the latter. Mr.
-Bhaer was going away; he only cared for her as a friend; it was all a
-mistake, and the sooner it was over the better. With this idea in her
-head, she hailed an approaching omnibus with such a hasty gesture that
-the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged.
-
-"This is not our omniboos," said the Professor, waving the loaded
-vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers.
-
-"I beg your pardon, I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can
-walk. I'm used to plodding in the mud," returned Jo, winking hard,
-because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes.
-
-Mr. Bhaer saw the drops on her cheeks, though she turned her head away;
-the sight seemed to touch him very much, for, suddenly stooping down, he
-asked in a tone that meant a great deal,--
-
-"Heart's dearest, why do you cry?"
-
-Now, if Jo had not been new to this sort of thing she would have said
-she wasn't crying, had a cold in her head, or told any other feminine
-fib proper to the occasion; instead of which that undignified creature
-answered, with an irrepressible sob,--
-
-"Because you are going away."
-
-"Ach, mein Gott, that is _so_ good!" cried Mr. Bhaer, managing to clasp
-his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles. "Jo, I haf nothing
-but much love to gif you; I came to see if you could care for it, and I
-waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can
-you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?" he added, all in
-one breath.
-
-"Oh, yes!" said Jo; and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both
-hands over his arm, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly
-showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even
-though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried
-it.
-
-It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for, even if he had
-desired to do so, Mr. Bhaer could not go down upon his knees, on account
-of the mud; neither could he offer Jo his hand, except figuratively, for
-both were full; much less could he indulge in tender demonstrations in
-the open street, though he was near it: so the only way in which he
-could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which
-glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be
-little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not
-loved Jo very much, I don't think he could have done it _then_, for she
-looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her
-rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately,
-Mr. Bhaer considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found
-him more "Jove-like" than ever, though his hat-brim was quite limp with
-the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders (for he held the
-umbrella all over Jo), and every finger of his gloves needed mending.
-
-Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they
-entirely forgot to hail a 'bus, and strolled leisurely along, oblivious
-of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for
-they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any
-life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the
-plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven.
-The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had
-nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss; while Jo trudged beside
-him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how
-she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course, she was the first
-to speak--intelligibly, I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed
-her impetuous "Oh, yes!" were not of a coherent or reportable
-character.
-
-"Friedrich, why didn't you--"
-
-"Ah, heaven, she gifs me the name that no one speaks since Minna died!"
-cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful
-delight.
-
-"I always call you so to myself--I forgot; but I won't, unless you like
-it."
-
-"Like it? it is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say 'thou,' also, and
-I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine."
-
-"Isn't 'thou' a little sentimental?" asked Jo, privately thinking it a
-lovely monosyllable.
-
-"Sentimental? Yes. Thank Gott, we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep
-ourselves young mit it. Your English 'you' is so cold, say 'thou,'
-heart's dearest, it means so much to me," pleaded Mr. Bhaer, more like a
-romantic student than a grave professor.
-
-"Well, then, why didn't thou tell me all this sooner?" asked Jo
-bashfully.
-
-"Now I shall haf to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will,
-because thou must take care of it hereafter. See, then, my Jo,--ah, the
-dear, funny little name!--I had a wish to tell something the day I said
-good-by, in New York; but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to
-thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou have said 'Yes,' then, if I _had_
-spoken?"
-
-"I don't know; I'm afraid not, for I didn't have any heart just then."
-
-"Prut! that I do not believe. It was asleep till the fairy prince came
-through the wood, and waked it up. Ah, well, 'Die erste Liebe ist die
-beste;' but that I should not expect."
-
-"Yes, the first love _is_ the best; so be contented, for I never had
-another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy," said
-Jo, anxious to correct the Professor's mistake.
-
-"Good! then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I
-haf waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, Professorin."
-
-"I like that," cried Jo, delighted with her new name. "Now tell me what
-brought you, at last, just when I most wanted you?"
-
-"This;" and Mr. Bhaer took a little worn paper out of his
-waistcoat-pocket.
-
-Jo unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own
-contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her
-sending it an occasional attempt.
-
-"How could that bring you?" she asked, wondering what he meant.
-
-"I found it by chance; I knew it by the names and the initials, and in
-it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him;
-I will see that you go not in the wet."
-
-Jo obeyed, and hastily skimmed through the lines which she had
-christened--
-
-                        "IN THE GARRET.
-
-        "Four little chests all in a row,
-           Dim with dust, and worn by time,
-         All fashioned and filled, long ago,
-           By children now in their prime.
-         Four little keys hung side by side,
-           With faded ribbons, brave and gay
-         When fastened there, with childish pride,
-           Long ago, on a rainy day.
-         Four little names, one on each lid,
-           Carved out by a boyish hand,
-         And underneath there lieth hid
-           Histories of the happy band
-         Once playing here, and pausing oft
-           To hear the sweet refrain,
-         That came and went on the roof aloft,
-           In the falling summer rain.
-
-        "'Meg' on the first lid, smooth and fair.
-           I look in with loving eyes,
-         For folded here, with well-known care,
-           A goodly gathering lies,
-         The record of a peaceful life,--
-           Gifts to gentle child and girl,
-         A bridal gown, lines to a wife,
-           A tiny shoe, a baby curl.
-         No toys in this first chest remain,
-           For all are carried away,
-         In their old age, to join again
-           In another small Meg's play.
-         Ah, happy mother! well I know
-           You hear, like a sweet refrain,
-         Lullabies ever soft and low
-           In the falling summer rain.
-
-        "'Jo' on the next lid, scratched and worn,
-           And within a motley store
-         Of headless dolls, of school-books torn,
-           Birds and beasts that speak no more;
-         Spoils brought home from the fairy ground
-           Only trod by youthful feet,
-         Dreams of a future never found,
-           Memories of a past still sweet;
-         Half-writ poems, stories wild,
-           April letters, warm and cold,
-         Diaries of a wilful child,
-           Hints of a woman early old;
-         A woman in a lonely home,
-           Hearing, like a sad refrain,--
-         'Be worthy love, and love will come,'
-           In the falling summer rain.
-
-        "My Beth! the dust is always swept
-           From the lid that bears your name,
-         As if by loving eyes that wept,
-           By careful hands that often came.
-         Death canonized for us one saint,
-           Ever less human than divine,
-         And still we lay, with tender plaint,
-           Relics in this household shrine.--
-         The silver bell, so seldom rung,
-           The little cap which last she wore,
-         The fair, dead Catherine that hung
-           By angels borne above her door;
-         The songs she sang, without lament,
-           In her prison-house of pain,
-         Forever are they sweetly blent
-           With the falling summer rain.
-
-        "Upon the last lid's polished field--
-           Legend now both fair and true--
-         A gallant knight bears on his shield,
-           'Amy,' in letters gold and blue.
-         Within lie snoods that bound her hair,
-           Slippers that have danced their last,
-         Faded flowers laid by with care,
-           Fans whose airy toils are past;
-         Gay valentines, all ardent flames,
-           Trifles that have borne their part
-         In girlish hopes and fears and shames,--
-           The record of a maiden heart
-         Now learning fairer, truer spells,
-           Hearing, like a blithe refrain,
-         The silver sound of bridal bells
-           In the falling summer rain.
-
-        "Four little chests all in a row,
-           Dim with dust, and worn by time,
-         Four women, taught by weal and woe
-           To love and labor in their prime.
-         Four sisters, parted for an hour,
-           None lost, one only gone before,
-         Made by love's immortal power,
-           Nearest and dearest evermore.
-         Oh, when these hidden stores of ours
-           Lie open to the Father's sight,
-         May they be rich in golden hours,
-           Deeds that show fairer for the light,
-         Lives whose brave music long shall ring,
-           Like a spirit-stirring strain,
-         Souls that shall gladly soar and sing
-           In the long sunshine after rain.
-
-                                                             "J. M."
-
-"It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it, one day when I was
-very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag-bag. I never thought it would
-go where it could tell tales," said Jo, tearing up the verses the
-Professor had treasured so long.
-
-"Let it go, it has done its duty, and I will haf a fresh one when I read
-all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets," said Mr.
-Bhaer, with a smile, as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind.
-"Yes," he added earnestly, "I read that, and I think to myself, 'She has
-a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I haf a
-heart full, full for her; shall I not go and say, 'If this is not too
-poor a thing to gif for what I shall hope to receive, take it in Gott's
-name?'"
-
-"And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious
-thing I needed," whispered Jo.
-
-"I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your
-welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said, 'I will haf
-her if I die for it,' and so I will!" cried Mr. Bhaer, with a defiant
-nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he
-was to surmount or valiantly knock down.
-
-Jo thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her knight,
-though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array.
-
-"What made you stay away so long?" she asked presently, finding it so
-pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that
-she could not keep silent.
-
-"It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that
-so happy home until I could haf a prospect of one to give you, after
-much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to gif up so much
-for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune but a little learning?"
-
-"I'm glad you _are_ poor; I couldn't bear a rich husband," said Jo
-decidedly, adding, in a softer tone, "Don't fear poverty; I've known it
-long enough to lose my dread, and be happy working for those I love; and
-don't call yourself old,--forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help
-loving you if you were seventy!"
-
-The Professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his
-handkerchief, if he could have got at it; as he couldn't, Jo wiped his
-eyes for him, and said, laughing, as she took away a bundle or two,--
-
-"I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I'm out of my sphere now,
-for woman's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing
-burdens. I'm to carry my share, Friedrich, and help to earn the home.
-Make up your mind to that, or I'll never go," she added resolutely, as
-he tried to reclaim his load.
-
-"We shall see. Haf you patience to wait a long time, Jo? I must go away
-and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because, even for you,
-I may not break my word to Minna. Can you forgif that, and be happy
-while we hope and wait?"
-
-"Yes, I know I can; for we love one another, and that makes all the rest
-easy to bear. I have my duty, also, and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself
-if I neglected them even for you, so there's no need of hurry or
-impatience. You can do your part out West, I can do mine here, and both
-be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God
-wills."
-
-"Ah! thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back
-but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor, quite
-overcome.
-
-                   [Illustration: Under the umbrella]
-
-Jo never, never would learn to be proper; for when he said that as they
-stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering
-tenderly, "Not empty now;" and, stooping down, kissed her Friedrich
-under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the
-flock of draggle-tailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for
-she was very far gone indeed, and quite regardless of everything but her
-own happiness. Though it came in such a very simple guise, that was the
-crowning moment of both their lives, when, turning from the night and
-storm and loneliness to the household light and warmth and peace waiting
-to receive them, with a glad "Welcome home!" Jo led her lover in, and
-shut the door.
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-
-
-
-                      [Illustration: Harvest time]
-
-                                 XLVII.
-
-                             HARVEST TIME.
-
-
-For a year Jo and her Professor worked and waited, hoped and loved, met
-occasionally, and wrote such voluminous letters that the rise in the
-price of paper was accounted for, Laurie said. The second year began
-rather soberly, for their prospects did not brighten, and Aunt March
-died suddenly. But when their first sorrow was over,--for they loved the
-old lady in spite of her sharp tongue,--they found they had cause for
-rejoicing, for she had left Plumfield to Jo, which made all sorts of
-joyful things possible.
-
-"It's a fine old place, and will bring a handsome sum; for of course you
-intend to sell it," said Laurie, as they were all talking the matter
-over, some weeks later.
-
-"No, I don't," was Jo's decided answer, as she petted the fat poodle,
-whom she had adopted, out of respect to his former mistress.
-
-"You don't mean to live there?"
-
-"Yes, I do."
-
-"But, my dear girl, it's an immense house, and will take a power of
-money to keep it in order. The garden and orchard alone need two or
-three men, and farming isn't in Bhaer's line, I take it."
-
-"He'll try his hand at it there, if I propose it."
-
-"And you expect to live on the produce of the place? Well, that sounds
-paradisiacal, but you'll find it desperate hard work."
-
-"The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one;" and Jo laughed.
-
-"Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma'am?"
-
-"Boys. I want to open a school for little lads,--a good, happy, homelike
-school, with me to take care of them, and Fritz to teach them."
-
-"There's a truly Joian plan for you! Isn't that just like her?" cried
-Laurie, appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised as he.
-
-"I like it," said Mrs. March decidedly.
-
-"So do I," added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance for
-trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth.
-
-"It will be an immense care for Jo," said Meg, stroking the head of her
-one all-absorbing son.
-
-"Jo can do it, and be happy in it. It's a splendid idea. Tell us all
-about it," cried Mr. Laurence, who had been longing to lend the lovers a
-hand, but knew that they would refuse his help.
-
-"I knew you'd stand by me, sir. Amy does too--I see it in her eyes,
-though she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before she
-speaks. Now, my dear people," continued Jo earnestly, "just understand
-that this isn't a new idea of mine, but a long-cherished plan. Before my
-Fritz came, I used to think how, when I'd made my fortune, and no one
-needed me at home, I'd hire a big house, and pick up some poor, forlorn
-little lads, who hadn't any mothers, and take care of them, and make
-life jolly for them before it was too late. I see so many going to ruin,
-for want of help at the right minute; I love so to do anything for them;
-I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize with their troubles, and, oh,
-I should _so_ like to be a mother to them!"
-
-Mrs. March held out her hand to Jo, who took it, smiling, with tears in
-her eyes, and went on in the old enthusiastic way, which they had not
-seen for a long while.
-
-"I told my plan to Fritz once, and he said it was just what he would
-like, and agreed to try it when we got rich. Bless his dear heart, he's
-been doing it all his life,--helping poor boys, I mean, not getting
-rich; that he'll never be; money doesn't stay in his pocket long enough
-to lay up any. But now, thanks to my good old aunt, who loved me better
-than I ever deserved, _I'm_ rich, at least I feel so, and we can live at
-Plumfield perfectly well, if we have a flourishing school. It's just the
-place for boys, the house is big, and the furniture strong and plain.
-There's plenty of room for dozens inside, and splendid grounds outside.
-They could help in the garden and orchard: such work is healthy, isn't
-it, sir? Then Fritz can train and teach in his own way, and father will
-help him. I can feed and nurse and pet and scold them; and mother will
-be my stand-by. I've always longed for lots of boys, and never had
-enough; now I can fill the house full, and revel in the little dears to
-my heart's content. Think what luxury,--Plumfield my own, and a
-wilderness of boys to enjoy it with me!"
-
-As Jo waved her hands, and gave a sigh of rapture, the family went off
-into a gale of merriment, and Mr. Laurence laughed till they thought
-he'd have an apoplectic fit.
-
-"I don't see anything funny," she said gravely, when she could be heard.
-"Nothing could be more natural or proper than for my Professor to open a
-school, and for me to prefer to reside on my own estate."
-
-"She is putting on airs already," said Laurie, who regarded the idea in
-the light of a capital joke. "But may I inquire how you intend to
-support the establishment? If all the pupils are little ragamuffins, I'm
-afraid your crop won't be profitable in a worldly sense, Mrs. Bhaer."
-
-"Now don't be a wet-blanket, Teddy. Of course I shall have rich pupils,
-also,--perhaps begin with such altogether; then, when I've got a start,
-I can take a ragamuffin or two, just for a relish. Rich people's
-children often need care and comfort, as well as poor. I've seen
-unfortunate little creatures left to servants, or backward ones pushed
-forward, when it's real cruelty. Some are naughty through mismanagement
-or neglect, and some lose their mothers. Besides, the best have to get
-through the hobbledehoy age, and that's the very time they need most
-patience and kindness. People laugh at them, and hustle them about, try
-to keep them out of sight, and expect them to turn, all at once, from
-pretty children into fine young men. They don't complain much,--plucky
-little souls,--but they feel it. I've been through something of it, and
-I know all about it. I've a special interest in such young bears, and
-like to show them that I see the warm, honest, well-meaning boys'
-hearts, in spite of the clumsy arms and legs and the topsy-turvy heads.
-I've had experience, too, for haven't I brought up one boy to be a pride
-and honor to his family?"
-
-"I'll testify that you tried to do it," said Laurie, with a grateful
-look.
-
-"And I've succeeded beyond my hopes; for here you are, a steady,
-sensible business man, doing heaps of good with your money, and laying
-up the blessings of the poor, instead of dollars. But you are not merely
-a business man: you love good and beautiful things, enjoy them yourself,
-and let others go halves, as you always did in the old times. I _am_
-proud of you, Teddy, for you get better every year, and every one feels
-it, though you won't let them say so. Yes, and when I have my flock,
-I'll just point to you, and say, 'There's your model, my lads.'"
-
-Poor Laurie didn't know where to look; for, man though he was, something
-of the old bashfulness came over him as this burst of praise made all
-faces turn approvingly upon him.
-
-"I say, Jo, that's rather too much," he began, just in his old boyish
-way. "You have all done more for me than I can ever thank you for,
-except by doing my best not to disappoint you. You have rather cast me
-off lately, Jo, but I've had the best of help, nevertheless; so, if I've
-got on at all, you may thank these two for it;" and he laid one hand
-gently on his grandfather's white head, the other on Amy's golden one,
-for the three were never far apart.
-
-"I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the
-world!" burst out Jo, who was in an unusually uplifted frame of mind
-just then. "When I have one of my own, I hope it will be as happy as the
-three I know and love the best. If John and my Fritz were only here, it
-would be quite a little heaven on earth," she added more quietly. And
-that night, when she went to her room, after a blissful evening of
-family counsels, hopes, and plans, her heart was so full of happiness
-that she could only calm it by kneeling beside the empty bed always near
-her own, and thinking tender thoughts of Beth.
-
-It was a very astonishing year altogether, for things seemed to happen
-in an unusually rapid and delightful manner. Almost before she knew
-where she was, Jo found herself married and settled at Plumfield. Then a
-family of six or seven boys sprung up like mushrooms, and flourished
-surprisingly, poor boys as well as rich; for Mr. Laurence was
-continually finding some touching case of destitution, and begging the
-Bhaers to take pity on the child, and he would gladly pay a trifle for
-its support. In this way the sly old gentleman got round proud Jo, and
-furnished her with the style of boy in which she most delighted.
-
-Of course it was up-hill work at first, and Jo made queer mistakes; but
-the wise Professor steered her safely into calmer waters, and the most
-rampant ragamuffin was conquered in the end. How Jo did enjoy her
-"wilderness of boys," and how poor, dear Aunt March would have lamented
-had she been there to see the sacred precincts of prim, well-ordered
-Plumfield overrun with Toms, Dicks, and Harrys! There was a sort of
-poetic justice about it, after all, for the old lady had been the terror
-of the boys for miles round; and now the exiles feasted freely on
-forbidden plums, kicked up the gravel with profane boots unreproved, and
-played cricket in the big field where the irritable "cow with a crumpled
-horn" used to invite rash youths to come and be tossed. It became a sort
-of boys' paradise, and Laurie suggested that it should be called the
-"Bhaer-garten," as a compliment to its master and appropriate to its
-inhabitants.
-
-It never was a fashionable school, and the Professor did not lay up a
-fortune; but it _was_ just what Jo intended it to be,--"a happy,
-homelike place for boys, who needed teaching, care, and kindness."
-Every room in the big house was soon full; every little plot in the
-garden soon had its owner; a regular menagerie appeared in barn and
-shed, for pet animals were allowed; and, three times a day, Jo smiled at
-her Fritz from the head of a long table lined on either side with rows
-of happy young faces, which all turned to her with affectionate eyes,
-confiding words, and grateful hearts, full of love for "Mother Bhaer."
-She had boys enough now, and did not tire of them, though they were not
-angels, by any means, and some of them caused both Professor and
-Professorin much trouble and anxiety. But her faith in the good spot
-which exists in the heart of the naughtiest, sauciest, most tantalizing
-little ragamuffin gave her patience, skill, and, in time, success; for
-no mortal boy could hold out long with Father Bhaer shining on him as
-benevolently as the sun, and Mother Bhaer forgiving him seventy times
-seven. Very precious to Jo was the friendship of the lads; their
-penitent sniffs and whispers after wrong-doing; their droll or touching
-little confidences; their pleasant enthusiasms, hopes, and plans; even
-their misfortunes, for they only endeared them to her all the more.
-There were slow boys and bashful boys; feeble boys and riotous boys;
-boys that lisped and boys that stuttered; one or two lame ones; and a
-merry little quadroon, who could not be taken in elsewhere, but who was
-welcome to the "Bhaer-garten," though some people predicted that his
-admission would ruin the school.
-
-Yes; Jo was a very happy woman there, in spite of hard work, much
-anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She enjoyed it heartily, and found the
-applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of the world; for
-now she told no stories except to her flock of enthusiastic believers
-and admirers. As the years went on, two little lads of her own came to
-increase her happiness,--Rob, named for grandpa, and Teddy, a
-happy-go-lucky baby, who seemed to have inherited his papa's sunshiny
-temper as well as his mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up
-alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and
-aunts; but they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough
-nurses loved and served them well.
-
-There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most
-delightful was the yearly apple-picking; for then the Marches,
-Laurences, Brookes, and Bhaers turned out in full force, and made a day
-of it. Five years after Jo's wedding, one of these fruitful festivals
-occurred,--a mellow October day, when the air was full of an
-exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise, and the blood dance
-healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore its holiday attire;
-golden-rod and asters fringed the mossy walls; grasshoppers skipped
-briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a
-feast; squirrels were busy with their small harvesting; birds twittered
-their adieux from the alders in the lane; and every tree stood ready to
-send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake.
-Everybody was there; everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled
-down; everybody declared that there never had been such a perfect day or
-such a jolly set to enjoy it; and every one gave themselves up to the
-simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no such things
-as care or sorrow in the world.
-
-Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley, and Columella
-to Mr. Laurence, while enjoying--
-
-        "The gentle apple's winey juice."
-
-The Professor charged up and down the green aisles like a stout Teutonic
-knight, with a pole for a lance, leading on the boys, who made a hook
-and ladder company of themselves, and performed wonders in the way of
-ground and lofty tumbling. Laurie devoted himself to the little ones,
-rode his small daughter in a bushel-basket, took Daisy up among the
-birds' nests, and kept adventurous Rob from breaking his neck. Mrs.
-March and Meg sat among the apple piles like a pair of Pomonas, sorting
-the contributions that kept pouring in; while Amy, with a beautiful
-motherly expression in her face, sketched the various groups, and
-watched over one pale lad, who sat adoring her with his little crutch
-beside him.
-
-Jo was in her element that day, and rushed about, with her gown pinned
-up, her hat anywhere but on her head, and her baby tucked under her arm,
-ready for any lively adventure which might turn up. Little Teddy bore a
-charmed life, for nothing ever happened to him, and Jo never felt any
-anxiety when he was whisked up into a tree by one lad, galloped off on
-the back of another, or supplied with sour russets by his indulgent
-papa, who labored under the Germanic delusion that babies could digest
-anything, from pickled cabbage to buttons, nails, and their own small
-shoes. She knew that little Ted would turn up again in time, safe and
-rosy, dirty and serene, and she always received him back with a hearty
-welcome, for Jo loved her babies tenderly.
-
-               [Illustration: Teddy bore a charmed life]
-
-At four o'clock a lull took place, and baskets remained empty, while the
-apple-pickers rested, and compared rents and bruises. Then Jo and Meg,
-with a detachment of the bigger boys, set forth the supper on the grass,
-for an out-of-door tea was always the crowning joy of the day. The land
-literally flowed with milk and honey on such occasions, for the lads
-were not required to sit at table, but allowed to partake of refreshment
-as they liked,--freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul.
-They availed themselves of the rare privilege to the fullest extent, for
-some tried the pleasing experiment of drinking milk while standing on
-their heads, others lent a charm to leap-frog by eating pie in the
-pauses of the game, cookies were sown broadcast over the field, and
-apple-turnovers roosted in the trees like a new style of bird. The
-little girls had a private tea-party, and Ted roved among the edibles at
-his own sweet will.
-
-When no one could eat any more, the Professor proposed the first regular
-toast, which was always drunk at such times,--"Aunt March, God bless
-her!" A toast heartily given by the good man, who never forgot how much
-he owed her, and quietly drunk by the boys, who had been taught to
-keep her memory green.
-
-"Now, grandma's sixtieth birthday! Long life to her, with three times
-three!"
-
-That was given with a will, as you may well believe; and the cheering
-once begun, it was hard to stop it. Everybody's health was proposed,
-from Mr. Laurence, who was considered their special patron, to the
-astonished guinea-pig, who had strayed from its proper sphere in search
-of its young master. Demi, as the oldest grandchild, then presented the
-queen of the day with various gifts, so numerous that they were
-transported to the festive scene in a wheelbarrow. Funny presents, some
-of them, but what would have been defects to other eyes were ornaments
-to grandma's,--for the children's gifts were all their own. Every stitch
-Daisy's patient little fingers had put into the handkerchiefs she hemmed
-was better than embroidery to Mrs. March; Demi's shoe-box was a miracle
-of mechanical skill, though the cover wouldn't shut; Rob's footstool had
-a wiggle in its uneven legs, that she declared was very soothing; and no
-page of the costly book Amy's child gave her was so fair as that on
-which appeared, in tipsy capitals, the words,--"To dear Grandma, from
-her little Beth."
-
-During this ceremony the boys had mysteriously disappeared; and, when
-Mrs. March had tried to thank her children, and broken down, while Teddy
-wiped her eyes on his pinafore, the Professor suddenly began to sing.
-Then, from above him, voice after voice took up the words, and from tree
-to tree echoed the music of the unseen choir, as the boys sung, with all
-their hearts, the little song Jo had written, Laurie set to music, and
-the Professor trained his lads to give with the best effect. This was
-something altogether new, and it proved a grand success; for Mrs. March
-couldn't get over her surprise, and insisted on shaking hands with every
-one of the featherless birds, from tall Franz and Emil to the little
-quadroon, who had the sweetest voice of all.
-
-After this, the boys dispersed for a final lark, leaving Mrs. March and
-her daughters under the festival tree.
-
-[Illustration: "Leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival
-                           tree."--Page 583]
-
-"I don't think I ever ought to call myself 'Unlucky Jo' again, when my
-greatest wish has been so beautifully gratified," said Mrs. Bhaer,
-taking Teddy's little fist out of the milk-pitcher, in which he was
-rapturously churning.
-
-"And yet your life is very different from the one you pictured so long
-ago. Do you remember our castles in the air?" asked Amy, smiling as she
-watched Laurie and John playing cricket with the boys.
-
-"Dear fellows! It does my heart good to see them forget business, and
-frolic for a day," answered Jo, who now spoke in a maternal way of all
-mankind. "Yes, I remember; but the life I wanted then seems selfish,
-lonely, and cold to me now. I haven't given up the hope that I may write
-a good book yet, but I can wait, and I'm sure it will be all the better
-for such experiences and illustrations as these;" and Jo pointed from
-the lively lads in the distance to her father, leaning on the
-Professor's arm, as they walked to and fro in the sunshine, deep in one
-of the conversations which both enjoyed so much, and then to her mother,
-sitting enthroned among her daughters, with their children in her lap
-and at her feet, as if all found help and happiness in the face which
-never could grow old to them.
-
-"My castle was the most nearly realized of all. I asked for splendid
-things, to be sure, but in my heart I knew I should be satisfied, if I
-had a little home, and John, and some dear children like these. I've got
-them all, thank God, and am the happiest woman in the world;" and Meg
-laid her hand on her tall boy's head, with a face full of tender and
-devout content.
-
-"My castle is very different from what I planned, but I would not alter
-it, though, like Jo, I don't relinquish all my artistic hopes, or
-confine myself to helping others fulfil their dreams of beauty. I've
-begun to model a figure of baby, and Laurie says it is the best thing
-I've ever done. I think so myself, and mean to do it in marble, so that,
-whatever happens, I may at least keep the image of my little angel."
-
-As Amy spoke, a great tear dropped on the golden hair of the sleeping
-child in her arms; for her one well-beloved daughter was a frail little
-creature and the dread of losing her was the shadow over Amy's sunshine.
-This cross was doing much for both father and mother, for one love and
-sorrow bound them closely together. Amy's nature was growing sweeter,
-deeper, and more tender; Laurie was growing more serious, strong, and
-firm; and both were learning that beauty, youth, good fortune, even love
-itself, cannot keep care and pain, loss and sorrow, from the most blest;
-for--
-
-        "Into each life some rain must fall,
-         Some days must be dark and sad and dreary."
-
-"She is growing better, I am sure of it, my dear. Don't despond, but
-hope and keep happy," said Mrs. March, as tender-hearted Daisy stooped
-from her knee, to lay her rosy cheek against her little cousin's pale
-one.
-
-"I never ought to, while I have you to cheer me up, Marmee, and Laurie
-to take more than half of every burden," replied Amy warmly. "He never
-lets me see his anxiety, but is so sweet and patient with me, so devoted
-to Beth, and such a stay and comfort to me always, that I can't love him
-enough. So, in spite of my one cross, I can say with Meg, 'Thank God,
-I'm a happy woman.'"
-
-"There's no need for me to say it, for every one can see that I'm far
-happier than I deserve," added Jo, glancing from her good husband to her
-chubby children, tumbling on the grass beside her. "Fritz is getting
-gray and stout; I'm growing as thin as a shadow, and am thirty; we never
-shall be rich, and Plumfield may burn up any night, for that
-incorrigible Tommy Bangs _will_ smoke sweet-fern cigars under the
-bed-clothes, though he's set himself afire three times already. But in
-spite of these unromantic facts, I have nothing to complain of, and
-never was so jolly in my life. Excuse the remark, but living among boys,
-I can't help using their expressions now and then."
-
-"Yes, Jo, I think your harvest will be a good one," began Mrs. March,
-frightening away a big black cricket that was staring Teddy out of
-countenance.
-
-"Not half so good as yours, mother. Here it is, and we never can thank
-you enough for the patient sowing and reaping you have done," cried Jo,
-with the loving impetuosity which she never could outgrow.
-
-"I hope there will be more wheat and fewer tares every year," said Amy
-softly.
-
-"A large sheaf, but I know there's room in your heart for it, Marmee
-dear," added Meg's tender voice.
-
-Touched to the heart, Mrs. March could only stretch out her arms, as if
-to gather children and grandchildren to herself, and say, with face and
-voice full of motherly love, gratitude, and humility,--
-
-"O, my girls, however long you may live, I never can wish you a greater
-happiness than this!"
-
-                       [Illustration: Tail-piece]
-
-                             [Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-                      Louisa M. Alcott's Writings
-
-
-THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES.
-
-    =Little Women=; or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Illustrated. 16mo.
-        $1.50.
-
-    =Little Men.= Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys. Illustrated.
-        16mo. $1.50.
-
-    =Jo's Boys and How They Turned Out.= A Sequel to "Little Men."
-        Portrait of Author. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    =An Old-Fashioned Girl.= Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    =Eight Cousins=; or, The Aunt-Hill. Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    =Rose in Bloom.= A Sequel to "Eight Cousins." Illustrated. 16mo.
-        $1.50.
-
-    =Under the Lilacs.= Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    =Jack and Jill.= A Village Story. Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-The above eight volumes, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, $12.00.
-
-
-THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES. _New Illustrated Edition._
-    Printed from new plates with new cover designs, and illustrated with
-    84 full-page plates from drawings especially made for this edition
-    by Reginald B. Birch, Alice Barber Stephens, Jessie Willcox Smith,
-    and Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 8 vols. Crown 8vo. Decorated cloth,
-    gilt, in box. $16.00. Separately, $2.00.
-
-
-THE SPINNING-WHEEL SERIES
-
-    =Spinning-Wheel Stories.=
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-    =A Garland for Girls.=
-
-4 vols. 16mo. Each, $1.25. In box, $5.00.
-
-
-    THE SPINNING-WHEEL SERIES. _New Illustrated Edition._ Uniform in
-    size with the Illustrated Edition of the Little Women Series.
-    With 36 full-page plates by well-known artists. 4 vols. Crown
-    8vo. Decorated cloth. In box, $6.00. Separately, $1.50.
-
-
-AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG
-
-    =My Boys.=
-    =Shawl-Straps.=
-    =Cupid and Chow-Chow.=
-    =My Girls.=
-    =Jimmy's Cruise in the Pinafore.=
-    =An Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving.=
-
-6 vols. 16mo. Illustrated. Each, $1.00. In box, $6.00.
-
-
-LULU'S LIBRARY
-    =Volume 1=
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-    =Volume 3=
-
-3 vols. Each, $1.00. The set uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box,
-$3.00.
-
-
-NOVELS, ETC.
-
-    =Hospital Sketches.=
-    =Work.=
-    =Comic Tragedies.=
-    =Moods.=
-    =A Modern Mephistopheles.=
-    =Life of Louisa May Alcott.=
-
-6 vols. 16mo. Each, $1.50.
-
-
-LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY
-
-_Publishers_, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.
-
-
-
-
-                        The Little Women Series
-
-                          By LOUISA M. ALCOTT
-
-
-1. LITTLE WOMEN; or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    A simple story of the home life of four girls. A portrayal of
-    child life, natural, wholesome, and inspiring. One of the best
-    and most popular children's books ever written.
-
-2. LITTLE MEN: Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    Gives delightful pictures of boy life at old Plumfield, and is
-    brimful of activity, merriment, health, and happiness.
-
-3. JO'S BOYS, and How They Turned Out
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    This sequel to "Little Men" takes up the story and carries Jo's
-    boys through the home struggles and adventures in the outside
-    world until they are fairly launched on the sea of manhood.
-
-4. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    The heroine of this book is shown as a possible improvement upon
-    the girl of the period, who seems sadly ignorant or ashamed of
-    the good old fashions which made women truly beautiful and
-    honored.
-
-5. EIGHT COUSINS; or, the Aunt-Hill
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    The story of a pretty-faced and sunny-tempered little girl,
-    obliged by the death of her parents to live with her uncle and
-    her aunts, thereby coming in contact with seven cousins--all
-    boys.
-
-6. ROSE IN BLOOM
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    This sequel to "Eight Cousins" carries on the story of Rose and
-    the cousins, and is full of vivacity, fresh and stirring
-    incident, and brilliant character painting.
-
-7. UNDER THE LILACS
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    Ben and his dog Sancho run away from a circus and find a home
-    with Bob and Betty in the old house under the lilacs. Told in
-    Miss Alcott's best style.
-
-8. JACK AND JILL
-
-Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    A vivid yet natural portrayal of home and school life in a New
-    England village, full of the sympathetic quality which lends
-    such a charm to Miss Alcott's writings. It is a lively and jolly
-    narrative.
-
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-
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-
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-
-    Written by "Jo" and "Meg," and acted by the "Little Women," with
-    a Foreword by "Meg." Portraits, etc. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-LOUISA MAY ALCOTT
-
-    Her Life, Letters, and Journals. Edited by Ednah D. Cheney. With
-    photogravure portraits, etc. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-
-
-
-                   Other Stories by LOUISA M. ALCOTT
-
-
-SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES
-
-    Four volumes of healthy and hearty short stories so told as to
-    fascinate the young people, while inculcating sturdy courage and
-    kindness to the weak in the boys, and in the girls those virtues
-    which fit them for filling a woman's place in the home.
-
-    1. SPINNING-WHEEL STORIES
-    With twelve initial illustrations. 16mo. $1.25.
-
-    2. SILVER PITCHERS: and Independence
-    16mo. $1.25.
-
-    3. PROVERB STORIES
-    16mo. $1.25.
-
-    4. A GARLAND FOR GIRLS
-    With illustrations. 16mo. $1.25.
-    The above four volumes, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box,
-    $5.00.
-
-
-AUNT JO'S SCRAP BAG
-
-    Six books of jolly, readable stories told in Miss Alcott's best
-    style and sure to please young people.
-
-    1. MY BOYS
-    Illustrated. 16mo. $1.00.
-
-    2. SHAWL-STRAPS
-    Illustrated. Story of a voyage abroad. 16mo. $1.00
-
-    3. CUPID AND CHOW-CHOW
-    Illustrated. 16mo. $1.00.
-
-    4. MY GIRLS
-    Illustrated. 16mo. $1.00.
-
-    5. JIMMY'S CRUISE IN THE PINAFORE, ETC.
-    Illustrated. 16mo. $1.00.
-
-    6. AN OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING
-    Illustrated. 16mo. $1.00.
-
-The above six volumes, uniformly bound in cloth, gilt, in box, $6.00.
-
-
-LULU'S LIBRARY
-
-    Delightful short stories, many of them founded on incidents from
-    Miss Alcott's life. Told so as to attract children, and all
-    showing the spirit of cheerful accomplishment in the face of
-    discouragements.
-
-    Three volumes. Each, $1.00. The set, uniformly bound in cloth,
-    gilt, in box, $3.00.
-
-
-MISS ALCOTT'S NOVELS
-
-    HOSPITAL SKETCHES
-    and Camp and Fireside Stories. With illustrations. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    WORK
-    A Story of Experience. Illustrated by Sol Eytinge. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    MOODS
-    A Novel. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-    A MODERN MEPHISTOPHELES
-    and a Whisper in the Dark. 16mo. $1.50.
-
-
-
-
-                   Other Stories by LOUISA M. ALCOTT
-
-
-A HOLE IN THE WALL. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    An account of a poor boy's admiration for a beautiful garden to
-    which he is invited by a little girl friend. ("How They Camped
-    Out" in same volume.)
-
-MARJORIE'S THREE GIFTS. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    A fairy tale told Marjorie comes true, and there enter into her
-    life three good fairies: Industry, Cheerfulness, and Love.
-    ("Roses and Forget-me-nots" in same volume.)
-
-MAY FLOWERS. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    The experiences of six earnest young girls who try to make the
-    sad lives about them happier. Full of sensible hints as to
-    wisest methods of charity.
-
-A CHRISTMAS DREAM. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    A rather spoiled child gets her first real enjoyment of
-    Christmas by making others happy. ("Baa! Baa!" in same volume.)
-
-THE CANDY COUNTRY. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    A quaint little fable in which the young heroine visits
-    Candy-land and is finally contented to return to Bread-land.
-    ("How They Ran Away" in same volume.)
-
-LITTLE BUTTON ROSE. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-     A bright, vivacious child visits her maiden aunts. Her
-     influence on the somewhat narrow characters about her is
-     delightfully described.
-
-POPPIES AND WHEAT. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    Two girls travel through Europe. The frivolous Ethel learns the
-    advantages of culture and simple dignity from her companion.
-
-MOUNTAIN-LAUREL AND MAIDENHAIR. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    The story of a New Hampshire farmer's daughter who is fond of
-    writing verses.
-
-PANSIES AND WATER-LILIES. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    "Pansies" is a story of a girls' discussion of books;
-    "Water-Lilies" is a romance by the sea-shore.
-
-THE DOLLS' JOURNEY. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    A droll account of the travels of two dolls. ("Shadow-Children"
-    and "The Moss People" in same volume.)
-
-MORNING GLORIES AND QUEEN ASTOR. Illustrated. 12mo. 50 cents.
-
-    Aunt Wee changes Daisy from a petulant to a cheerful girl by
-    interesting her in the wonderful world of nature which Daisy has
-    never before learned to appreciate justly.
-
-THE LITTLE MEN PLAY.
-THE LITTLE WOMEN PLAY.
-
-    Adapted from Miss Alcott's famous stories, "Little Men" and
-    "Little Women," by Elizabeth L. Gould. Illustrated. 12mo. Price
-    50 cents each.
-
-    Two forty-five minute plays of two acts each, for eight or ten
-    little people. They will prove a source of limitless delight.
-
-
-LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers
-
-254 Washington St., Boston, Mass.
-
-
-
-
-                          Transcriber's Notes:
-
-
-Project Gutenberg has two versions of Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.
-   Original Edition
-   Illustrated Edition
-
-Welcome to the Project Gutenberg Illustrated Edition of Little Women by
-Louisa May Alcott, published by Little, Brown, and Company. Some
-versions of the book, such as this one, use the full title of the book
-from the title page, _Little Women; Or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy_.
-
-We used the version of the book from Little, Brown, and Company:
-copyright 1896, for this transcription. A scanned copy of this book is
-available through the internet archive, courtesy of the New York Public
-Library.
-
-A copy of the first version of the novel, published in 1869, was
-consulted for emendations, the proper rendering of words hyphenated and
-split between two lines for spacing, and other issues in transcribing
-the novel. We are not trying to change this version of the novel back to
-the 1869 novel, but correct the errors that were made in re-transcribing
-and updating the text.
-
-Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.
-
-Passages in bold were indicated by =equal signs=.
-
-Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.
-
-Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of
-the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
-
-Errors in punctuations and hyphenation were not corrected unless
-otherwise noted below.
-
-A note about spacing of illustrations: If there are four lines above the
-illustration, then the illustration was at the top of a new chapter. If
-there are four lines below the illustration, then the illustration was
-at the end of a chapter. If there is two lines between a chapter heading
-and the illustration, then the illustration was an inline illustration
-(usually a drop-cap illustration).
-
-The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
-paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate, thus
-the page number of the illustration might not match the page number in
-the List of Illustrations.
-
-On page vii, in the Table of Contents, change page 7 to 1 for the
-beginning of Chapter One.
-
-In the List of Illustrations, for the illustration on page 147,
-"postmistress" was replaced with "post-mistress".
-
-In the List of Illustrations, for the illustration on page 235, 
-"tea-pot" was replaced with "teapot".
-
-On page 30, the punctuation after 'stained they are' may be a colon, but
-on page 41 of the 1869 book, it is a semicolon. We used the semi-colon. 
-
-On page 34, transcribe red-headed with the hyphen. See page 44 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On page 40, a period was added after "room where old Mr". See page 50 of
-the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 41, the semicolon after "Laurie went on the box" was replaced
-with a comma. See page 52 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 62, mantel-piece was transcribed with the hyphen. See Page 75 of
-the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 63, checked the clause "and I've been trying to do it this ever
-so long." It is written the same way on page 77 of the 1869 book. No
-change was made.
-
-On page 64, add period after "red and shining with merriment." See page
-79 of the 1869 book.
-
-On page 68, changed weet to sweet in 'the damp weet air.' See page 84 of
-the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 79, add comma after I remain in the letter. See page 95 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On page 84, ferrule was an adjustment from the 1869 book, which only
-used one r in spelling the word (see page 101). Webster's dictionary
-spells ferrule with two rs.
-
-On page 109, a period was added after "and the old man quite dotes on
-them". See page 130 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 109, a period was added after "asked another voice". See page
-131 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 112, change colon to semicolon after "if you don't;"--see page
-134 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 113, transcribe ear-rings with the hyphen. See page 135 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On Page 123, "One thing remember, my girls:" is written as it appears in
-the 1896 novel. A comma instead of a colon was used after my girls in
-the 1869 novel (see page 146). "One thing =to= remember," may work
-better today, or even "Remember one thing," but we left this as Ms.
-Alcott wrote it.
-
-On Page 124, the P. C. is the Pickwick Club from a novel by Charles
-Dickens. Samuel Pickwick, Tracy Tupman, Augustus Snodgrass, and
-Nathaniel Winkle were introdued by Charles Dickens in the first chapter
-of The Pickwick Papers. Samuel Weller makes his first appearance in
-Chapter Ten of that novel.
-
-On page 128, in the Pickwick Portfolio, there is no period after "it is
-nearly school time" in N. Winkle's letter. This period was also missing
-on page 151 of the 1869 novel. The missing period was intentional.
-
-On page 135, the ambiguous punctuation after "Oh, dear, no!" is an
-exclamation point. See page 160 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 146, change buttonholes to button-holes. On page 173 of the 1869
-novel, this word was hyphenated and split between two lines for spacing.
-There were seven other occurrences of button-hole or button-holes in the
-novel.  We therefore used the hyphen.
-
-On page 150, "Betty" was replaced with "Bethy". This error was also made
-in the 1869 novel--see page 177. The character addressed is Beth. 
-
-On page 158, a period was added after "still kneeling". See page 187 of
-the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 160, "hard a lee" is spelled the same way in the 1869 novel (see
-page 189) and this novel. We left this as is.
-
-On page 166, a comma was added after "Meg" in "Meg obediently
-following". See page 195 of the 1869 book.
-
-On page 185, "receptable" was replaced with "receptacle". See page 217
-of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 185, transcribe door-way with the hyphen. See page 217 of the
-1869 novel. Also, change doorway to door-way a few lines down the same
-page. See page 218 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 189, the comma after "published every day" was replaced with a
-period. See page 225 of 1869 book.
-
-On page 198, the clause: "Beth, go and ask Mr. Laurence for a couple of
-bottles of old wine:" was written as it appeared in the 1896 novel. The
-clause ended in with a semi-colon in the 1869 book (see page 234). 
-
-On page 200, change needlework to needle-work. See page 236 of the 1869
-novel.
-
-On page 209, "turnovers" was replaced with "turn-overs". See page 246 of
-the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 214, the single quotation mark before "Head Nurse of Ward" was
-replaced with a double quotation mark. See page 252 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 218, "Year's ago" was replaced with "Years ago". See page 257 of
-the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 219, "ask him so help" was replaced with "ask him to help". See
-page 257 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 219, add period after "give it to her." See page 258 of the 1869
-novel. 
-
-On page 230, "two, A.M." is spelled the same way, with the comma, in
-this book and in the 1869 novel (on page 272). The comma was retained.
-
-On page 244, "postscrips" was replaced with "postscripts". See page 287
-of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 279, place exclamation point after won't in 'No, I won't!' See
-page 329 in the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 286, "actingly" was replaced with "acting". See page 337 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On page 288, add comma after mankind in the clause "who felt at peace
-with all mankind even his mischievous pupil." See page 339 of the 1869
-novel.
-
-On page 294, transcribe gray-headed with the hyphen. See page 5 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On page 295, add a comma after salary in the phrase "with an
-honestly-earned salary." See page 7 of the 1869 book.
-
-Checked the clause "But once get used to these slight blemishes" on page
-297. The sentence appears the same way on page 10 of the 1869 novel. 
-
-Checked the clause "People who hire all these things done for them never
-know what they lose" on page 298. The sentence has a comma after them,
-but is otherwise written the same way on page 11 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 299, transcribe door-handles with the hyphen. See page 13 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On page 339, "shortcomings" was replaced with "short-comings". See page
-62 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 345, "furbelows and notions" was written "furbelows and
-quinny-dingles" in the 1869 novel. See page 59 of the 1869 novel. We
-made no change, and only point this out because quinny-dingles is such a
-memorable word that those intimate with the novel may notice the change.
-
-On page 353, change snowbank to snow-bank. See page 79 of the 1869
-novel.
-
-On page 363, a double quotation mark was added before "Cross-patch, draw
-the latch". See page 91 of the 1869 book.
-
-On page 379, change period after Jo to a comma in the clause "as for Jo.
-she would have gone up". See page 109 of the 1869 book.
-
-On page 380, a comma was added after "all lying down". See page 111 of
-the 1869 book.
-
-On page 393, the punctuation after 'but so was everybody's' is difficult
-to read. It could be a colon or semicolon. In the 1869 novel, the mark
-is a semi-colon (see page 126). We used the semi-colon.
-
-On page 396, the second line of the verse beginning with "'Out upon
-you," is indented. In the 1869 version, the capital B of "Bold-faced
-jig!'" is lined-up under Out. We aligned the verse as the 1869 version
-of the novel--see page 131.
-
-On page 404, add period after heaviness. See page 140 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 405, transcribe needle-work with the hyphen. See page 141 of the
-1869 book.
-
-On Page 411, a letter is curiously addressed to Betsey, both here and on
-page 148 of the 1869 book. 
-
-On Page 413, removed double quotes around Yes in "Yes," they say to one
-another, these so kind ladies. Instead, place a single quote in front of
-Yes, because Bhaer is resuming his quote. The resumed quote concludes
-with a single quote after me and mine. See page 151 of the 1869 novel.
-The double quote before 'he is a stupid old fellow' is actually a
-triple-nested quote, ending in make themselves.
-
-On page 417, transcribe Teddy-ism as Teddyism. See page 155 of the 1869
-novel.
-
-On page 451, a period was added after "I can't let you go". See page 196
-of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 463, "Tarantula" was used as the name of a dance, but the author
-might have meant "Tarantella," which is the name of an Italian dance
-about tarantulas.
-
-On page 468, transcribe chess-board with the hyphen. See page 218 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On page 512, a period was added after "she said softly". If you see page
-272 of the 1869 novel, you will also notice a comma in 'she said,
-softly.' We added the period but not the comma.
-
-On page 514, the 1869 novel did not have a comma after oar in the
-sentence: "I'm not tired; but you may take an oar, if you like. See page
-525 of the 1869 novel. We did not remove the comma.
-
-On page 527, "the 'the best nevvy" was replaced with "the best nevvy".
-
-On page 527, change he to the in 'like Jenny and he ballad'. See page
-291 of the 1869 novel.
-
-On page 531, David and Peggotty refer to two characters from the novel
-"David Copperfield" by Charles Dickens.
-
-On page 534, change of to off in the clause: Daisy found it impossible
-to keep her eyes of her "pitty aunty," ... see page 300 of the 1869
-novel.
-
-On page 541, "know'st thou the land where the citron blooms," was broken
-into two stanzas in the book for spacing. We transcribed this as one
-line. See page 308 in 1869 novel.
-
-On page 551, transcribe Dove-cote with the hyphen. See page 319 of the
-1869 novel.
-
-On the first page of ads, a period was added after "THE LITTLE WOMEN
-SERIES. New Illustrated Edition".
-
-On the second page of ads, in the blurb for the book Comic Tragedies, a
-period as placed after "Portraits, etc".
-
-After the novel is a list of The Works of Louisa May Alcott. The list is
-not complete: for example, there are no listings for her work as Flora
-Fairfield or A. M. Barnard. Nevertheless, the pages are a fine
-structured outline of Ms. Alcott's best work.
-
-Most of the novels and stories in these four pages are published by
-Project Gutenberg. We included links to these titles for the reader's
-convenience. A change had to be made for one item: We had to list each
-of the three volumes of Lulu's Library to provide the links to that
-book. These links will only work in the HTML document.
-
-The final page is a listing of eleven stories originally published in
-other volumes, such as Jo's Scrap-Bag, Lulu's Library, and A Garland for
-Girls. These works were subsequently published separately in small
-volumes, generally less than 100 pages, in The Children's Friend Series. 
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Women, by Louisa M. Alcott
-
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***
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-will be renamed.
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-one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
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