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diff --git a/514-h/514-h.htm b/514-h/514-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bdf6cc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/514-h/514-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,28335 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" 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 May Alcott</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Women, by Louisa May 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</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Louisa May Alcott</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May, 1996 [eBook #514]<br /> +[Most recently updated: November 4, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***</div> + +<h1>Little Women</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Louisa May Alcott</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#part01"><b>PART 1</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER ONE PLAYING PILGRIMS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER TWO A MERRY CHRISTMAS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER THREE THE LAURENCE BOY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER FOUR BURDENS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER FIVE BEING NEIGHBORLY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER SIX BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER SEVEN AMY’S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER EIGHT JO MEETS APOLLYON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER NINE MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER TEN THE P.C. AND P.O.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER ELEVEN EXPERIMENTS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER TWELVE CAMP LAURENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER THIRTEEN CASTLES IN THE AIR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER FOURTEEN SECRETS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER FIFTEEN A TELEGRAM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER SIXTEEN LETTERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN LITTLE FAITHFUL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN DARK DAYS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER NINETEEN AMY’S WILL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER TWENTY CONFIDENTIAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO PLEASANT MEADOWS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#part02"><b>PART 2</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR GOSSIP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE THE FIRST WEDDING</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN LITERARY LESSONS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CALLS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER THIRTY CONSEQUENCES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO TENDER TROUBLES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE JO’S JOURNAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR FRIEND</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE HEARTACHE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX BETH’S SECRET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap37">CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN NEW IMPRESSIONS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap38">CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT ON THE SHELF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap39">CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE LAZY LAURENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap40">CHAPTER FORTY THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap41">CHAPTER FORTY-ONE LEARNING TO FORGET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap42">CHAPTER FORTY-TWO ALL ALONE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap43">CHAPTER FORTY-THREE SURPRISES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap44">CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR MY LORD AND LADY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap45">CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE DAISY AND DEMI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap46">CHAPTER FORTY-SIX UNDER THE UMBRELLA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap47">CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN HARVEST TIME</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="part01"></a>PART 1</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER ONE<br/> +PLAYING PILGRIMS</h2> + +<p> +“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled +Jo, lying on the rug. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so dreadful to be poor!” sighed Meg, looking down at +her old dress. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got Father and Mother, and each other,” said Beth +contentedly from her corner. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone; 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 <i>Undine and Sintran</i> for myself. I’ve wanted it so +long,” said Jo, who was a bookworm. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall get a nice box of Faber’s drawing pencils; I really need +them,” said Amy decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 the window or cry?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 practice well at all.” And Beth looked at her +rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you mean libel, I’d say so, and not talk about labels, as if +Papa was a pickle bottle,” advised Jo, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are. For though we do have to work, we +make fun of ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jo does use such slang words!” observed Amy, with a reproving look +at the long figure stretched on the rug. +</p> + +<p> +Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, Jo. It’s so boyish!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s why I do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I detest rude, unladylike girls!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!” +</p> + +<p> +“Birds in their little nests agree,” sang Beth, the peacemaker, +with such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and the +“pecking” ended for that time. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 boy’s 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 home and knit, like a poky old woman!” +</p> + +<p> +And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and +her ball bounded across the room. +</p> + +<p> +“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 with a hand that all the dish +washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?” asked Beth, +ready to share the lecture. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a dear, and nothing else,” answered Meg warmly, and +no one contradicted her, for the ‘Mouse’ was the pet of the family. +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 flyaway 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 everyone 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 Miss Tranquility’, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +“They are quite worn out. Marmee must have a new pair.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d get her some with my dollar,” said Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shall!” cried Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Beth, +“let’s each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything +for ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s like you, dear! What will we get?” exclaimed Jo. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Army shoes, best to be had,” cried Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed,” said Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How will we give the things?” asked Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise +her. We must go shopping tomorrow 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tonight. Come here, Amy, +and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it. I never saw anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 laughs, don’t blame me. Come +on, Meg.” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the best we’ve had yet,” said Meg, as the dead +villain sat up and rubbed his elbows. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” replied Jo modestly. “I do think <i>The Witches +Curse, an Operatic Tragedy</i> is rather a nice thing, but I’d like to +try <i>Macbeth</i>, if we only had a trapdoor 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, +getting the boxes ready to go tomorrow, that I didn’t come home to +dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to +death. Come and kiss me, baby.” +</p> + +<p> +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, over-turning, and clattering +everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor kitchen, quiet +and busy, while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands +folded. +</p> + +<p> +As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly happy +face, “I’ve got a treat for you after supper.” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry and get done! Don’t stop to quirk your little finger and +simper over your plate, Amy,” cried Jo, choking on her tea and dropping +her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it was so splendid in Father to go as chaplain when he was too +old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier,” said Meg warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“When will he come home, Marmee?” asked Beth, with a little quiver +in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +over-flow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home. +</p> + +<p> +“Give them all of 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo’s words, by saying in her +cheery voice, “Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrims 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 housetop, where you had all the lovely things +you could collect to make a Celestial City.” +</p> + +<p> +“What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and +passing through the valley where the hob-goblins were,” said Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled +downstairs,” said Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?” asked Amy, who was a very +literal young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth. I rather +think she hasn’t got any,” said her mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have. Mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice +pianos, and being afraid of people.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Look under your pillows Christmas morning, and you will find your +guidebook,” replied Mrs. March. +</p> + +<p> +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 tonight 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. +</p> + +<p> +At nine they stopped work, and sang, 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 sang. 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 spoiled the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the +time they could lisp... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Crinkle, crinkle, ’ittle ’tar, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER TWO<br/> +A MERRY CHRISTMAS</h2> + +<p> +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 crammed so full of +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 guidebook for any pilgrim going on a 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mother?” asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her +for their gifts, half an hour later. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless the child! She’s gone and put ‘Mother’ on them +instead of ‘M. March’. How funny!” cried Jo, taking one up. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that right? I thought it was better to do it so, because +Meg’s initials are M.M., and I don’t want anyone to use these but +Marmee,” said Beth, looking troubled. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Mother. Hide the basket, quick!” cried Jo, as a door +slammed and steps sounded in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all +waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t laugh at me, Jo! I didn’t mean anyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls +to the table, eager for breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +“Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books. We read +some, and mean to every day,” they all cried in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +“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 newborn 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?” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?” +asked Beth eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall take the cream and the muffings,” added Amy, heroically +giving up the article she most liked. +</p> + +<p> +Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big +plate. +</p> + +<p> +“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 dinnertime.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged +bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children +cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm. +</p> + +<p> +How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in. +</p> + +<p> +“Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!” said the poor +woman, crying for joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Funny angels in hoods and mittens,” said Jo, and set them to +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 theater, 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 preserve pots were cut out. +The big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels. +</p> + +<p> +No gentleman 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. +</p> + +<p> +On Christmas night, a dozen girls piled onto 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 <i>operatic tragedy</i> began. +</p> + +<p> +“A gloomy wood,” according to the one playbill, 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 slouching 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 for 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!” +</p> + +<p> +Out came Meg, with gray horsehair 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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hither, hither, from thy home,<br/> +Airy sprite, I bid thee come!<br/> +Born of roses, fed on dew,<br/> +Charms and potions canst thou brew?<br/> +Bring me here, with elfin speed,<br/> +The fragrant philter which I need.<br/> +Make it sweet and swift and strong,<br/> +Spirit, answer now my song! +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Hither I come,<br/> +From my airy home,<br/> +Afar in the silver moon.<br/> +Take the magic spell,<br/> +And use it well,<br/> +Or its power will vanish soon! +</p> + +<p> +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 had 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. +</p> + +<p> +A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again, but when it +became evident what a masterpiece of stage carpentery had been got up, no one +murmured at the delay. It was truly superb. A tower rose to the ceiling, +halfway up appeared a window with a lamp burning in 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 lovelocks, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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 from 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought that +the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long red 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Rodrigo 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it fairies?” asked Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“Santa Claus,” said Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother did it.” And Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray +beard and white eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper,” cried Jo, with a +sudden inspiration. +</p> + +<p> +“All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it,” replied Mrs. March. +</p> + +<p> +“The Laurence boy’s grandfather! What in the world put such a thing +into his head? We don’t know him!” exclaimed Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a mercy you didn’t, Mother!” laughed Jo, looking +at her boots. “But we’ll have another play sometime that he can +see. Perhaps he’ll help act. Wouldn’t that be jolly?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!” And Meg +examined her flowers with great interest. +</p> + +<p> +“They are lovely. But Beth’s roses are sweeter to me,” said +Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER THREE<br/> +THE LAURENCE BOY</h2> + +<p> +“Jo! Jo! Where are you?” cried Meg at the foot of the garret +stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for +tomorrow night!” cried Meg, waving the precious paper and then proceeding +to read it with girlish delight. +</p> + +<p> +“‘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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine are spoiled 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t ask Mother for new ones, they are so expensive, and you +are so careless. She said when you spoiled the others that she shouldn’t +get you any more this winter. Can’t you make them do?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glove +dreadfully,” began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll go without. I don’t care what people say!” +cried Jo, taking up her book. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 burned 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Ought they to smoke like that?” asked Beth from her perch on the +bed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the dampness drying,” replied Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“What a queer smell! It’s like burned feathers,” observed +Amy, smoothing her own pretty curls with a superior air. +</p> + +<p> +“There, now I’ll take off the papers and you’ll see a cloud +of little ringlets,” said Jo, putting down the tongs. +</p> + +<p> +She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared, for the hair +came with the papers, and the horrified hairdresser laid a row of little +scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh, oh! What have you done? I’m spoiled! I can’t go! My +hair, oh, my hair!” wailed Meg, looking with despair at the uneven +frizzle on her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“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 little black pancakes with +tears of regret. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t spoiled. 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I’d let my hair +alone,” cried Meg petulantly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united +exertions of the entire family Jo’s hair was got up and her dress on. +They looked very well in their simple suits, Meg’s 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 hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which +was not exactly comfortable, but, dear me, let us be elegant or die. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“Girls, girls! Have you you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, winking isn’t ladylike. I’ll lift my eyebrows if any +thing is wrong, and nod if you are all right. Now hold your shoulder straight, +and take short steps, and don’t shake hands if you are introduced to +anyone. It isn’t the thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you learn all the proper ways? I never can. Isn’t that +music gay?” +</p> + +<p> +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 dwindled away till she was left alone. She could not roam about and +amuse herself, for the burned 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’. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, I didn’t know anyone was here!” stammered Jo, +preparing to back out as speedily as she had bounced in. +</p> + +<p> +But the boy laughed and said pleasantly, though he looked a little startled, +“Don’t mind me, stay if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shan’t I disturb you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit. I only came here because I don’t know many people and +felt rather strange at first, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“So did I. Don’t go away, please, unless you’d rather.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandpa sent it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you put it into his head, didn’t you, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“How is your cat, Miss March?” asked the boy, trying to look sober +while his black eyes shone with fun. +</p> + +<p> +“Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence. But I am not Miss March, I’m only +Jo,” returned the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not Mr. Laurence, I’m only Laurie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Laurie Laurence, what an odd name.” +</p> + +<p> +“My first name is Theodore, but I don’t like it, for the fellows +called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thrashed ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bear +it.” And Jo resigned herself with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you like to dance, Miss Jo?” asked Laurie, looking as +if he thought the name suited her. +</p> + +<p> +“I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and everyone 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Abroad!” cried Jo. “Oh, tell me about it! I love dearly to +hear people describe their travels.” +</p> + +<p> +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 on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t I wish I’d been there!” cried Jo. “Did you +go to Paris?” +</p> + +<p> +“We spent last winter there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you talk French?” +</p> + +<p> +“We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do say some! I can read it, but can’t pronounce.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?” +</p> + +<p> +“How nicely you do it! Let me see ... you said, ‘Who is the young +lady in the pretty slippers’, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oui, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is +pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she makes me think of the German girls, she looks so fresh and +quiet, and dances like a lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, and stored +it up to repeat to Meg. Both peeped and criticized 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 round-about way. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you but fifteen?” asked Jo, looking at the tall lad, +whom she had imagined seventeen already. +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen, next month.” +</p> + +<p> +“How I wish I was going to college! You don’t look as if you liked +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hate it! Nothing but grinding or skylarking. And I don’t like +the way fellows do either, in this country.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you like?” +</p> + +<p> +“To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will come too,” he answered, with a gallant little bow. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, for I told Meg I wouldn’t, because...” There +Jo stopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, what?” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t tell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll ask Laurie. He will go,” said Jo, looking relieved as +the idea occurred to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy, no! Don’t ask or tell anyone. Get me my rubbers, and put +these slippers with our things. I can’t dance anymore, but as soon as +supper is over, watch for Hannah and tell me the minute she comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are going out to supper now. I’ll stay with you. I’d +rather.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear, run along, and bring me some coffee. I’m so tired I +can’t stir.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +spilled, thereby making the front of her dress as bad as the back. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, what a blunderbuss I am!” exclaimed Jo, finishing +Meg’s glove by scrubbing her gown with it. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I was trying to get something for Meg, who is very tired, and someone +shook me, and here I am in a nice state,” answered Jo, glancing dismally +from the stained skirt to the coffee-colored glove. +</p> + +<p> +“Too bad! I was looking for someone to give this to. May I take it to +your sister?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo led the way, and as if used to waiting on ladies, Laurie drew up a little +table, brought a second installment 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 <i>Buzz</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! Don’t say anything,” she whispered, adding aloud, +“It’s nothing. I turned my foot a little, that’s all,” +and limped upstairs to put her things on. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so early! You can’t mean to go yet?” began Jo, +looking relieved but hesitating to accept the offer. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a capital time. Did you?” asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, +and making herself comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you dancing with the red headed man I ran away from. Was he +nice?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red, and he was very polite, and I had +a delicious redowa with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but it was very rude. What were you about all that time, hidden away +there?” +</p> + +<p> +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 nightcaps bobbed up, and two +sleepy but eager voices cried out... +</p> + +<p> +“Tell about the party! Tell about the party!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than +we do, in spite of our burned 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER FOUR<br/> +BURDENS</h2> + +<p> +“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 merrymaking did not fit her for going on easily with the task she never +liked. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it was Christmas or New Year’s all the time. Wouldn’t +it be fun?” answered Jo, yawning dismally. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 shan’t mind her.” +</p> + +<p> +This idea tickled Jo’s fancy and put her in good spirits, but Meg +didn’t brighten, for her burden, consisting of four spoiled children, +seemed heavier than ever. She had not 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +So Meg went down, wearing an injured look, and wasn’t at all agreeable at +breakfast time. Everyone seemed rather out of sorts and inclined to croak. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, and Amy wailed because she +couldn’t remember how much nine times twelve was. +</p> + +<p> +“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 spoiled sentence in her letter. +</p> + +<p> +There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who stalked in, laid two hot +turnovers on the table, and stalked out again. These turnovers 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Cuddle your cats and get over your headache, Bethy. Goodbye, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t use such dreadful expressions,” replied Meg from the +depths of the veil in which she had shrouded herself like a nun sick of the +world. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Call yourself any names you like, but I am neither a rascal nor a wretch +and I don’t choose to be called so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a blighted being, and decidedly cross today 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How ridiculous you are, Jo!” But Meg laughed at the nonsense and +felt better in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 turnover, and +each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry weather, hard work, and the +unsatisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 theaters, concerts, sleighing parties, and merrymakings 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 everyone sometimes, for she had not yet learned to know how rich she was +in the blessings which alone can make life happy. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t give up our girls for a dozen fortunes. Rich or poor, we +will keep together and be happy in one another.” +</p> + +<p> +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 marched home, declaring +she couldn’t bear it longer, but Aunt March always cleared up quickly, +and sent for her to come back again with such urgency that she could not +refuse, for in her heart she rather liked the peppery old lady. +</p> + +<p> +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 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 bookcases, the cozy 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 bookworm. 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 a song, or the most perilous adventure of +her traveler, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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 anyone 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 fresh air, hidden under her coat, she sang it +lullabies and never went to bed without kissing its dirty face and whispering +tenderly, “I hope you’ll have a good night, my poor dear.” +</p> + +<p> +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 practiced away so patiently at the +jingling old instrument, that it did seem as if someone (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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +accidently 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 besides 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. +</p> + +<p> +Amy was in a fair way to be spoiled, for everyone 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 mama 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. +</p> + +<p> +“My only comfort,” she said to Meg, with tears in her eyes, +“is that Mother doesn’t take tucks in my dresses whenever I’m +naughty, as Maria Parks’s 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 <i>deggerredation</i>, I feel +that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown with yellow sky-rockets on +it.” +</p> + +<p> +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 anyone in the family. The two older girls were a great deal +to one another, but each took one of the younger sisters 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a queer time with Aunt today, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could, and be done with it,” said I, trying not to be +saucy. +</p> + +<p> +“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 <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i> 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... +</p> + +<p> +“‘I don’t understand what it’s all about. Go back and +begin it, child.’” +</p> + +<p> +“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. Shan’t I stop +now?’” +</p> + +<p> +“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’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she own she liked it?” asked Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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 only she 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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’ today 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 and swollen 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think being disgraced in school is a great deal try<i>inger</i> 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 +today 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 <i>was</i> on us, and he ordered Susie to bring +up her slate. She was <i>parry</i>lized with fright, but she went, and oh, what +<i>do</i> 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 the slate so everyone could see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t the girls laugh at the picture?” asked Jo, who +relished the scrape. +</p> + +<p> +“Laugh? Not one! They sat 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw something 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 the fish +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 into +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’.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had laughed at Beth’s story, they asked their mother for one, +and after a moments thought, she said soberly, “As I sat cutting out blue +flannel jackets today 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. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Have you sons in the army?’ I asked, for the note he +brought was not to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘You have done a great deal for your country, sir,’ I said, +feeling respect now, instead of pity.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘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.’” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell another story, Mother, one with a moral to it, like this. I like to +think about them afterward, if they are real and not too preachy,” said +Jo, after a minute’s silence. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 only we had +this,’ or ‘If we could only do that,’ quite forgetting how +much they already had, and how many 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.) +</p> + +<p> +“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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“We needed that lesson, and we won’t forget it. If we do so, you +just say to us, as old Chloe did in <i>Uncle Tom</i>, ‘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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER FIVE<br/> +BEING NEIGHBORLY</h2> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Going out for exercise,” answered Jo with a mischievous twinkle in +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Meg went back to toast her feet and read <i>Ivanhoe</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. Lawrence 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. +</p> + +<p> +“There he is,” thought Jo, “Poor boy! All alone and sick this +dismal day. It’s a shame! I’ll toss up a snowball and make him look +out, and then say a kind word to him.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do? Are you sick?” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven... +</p> + +<p> +“Better, thank you. I’ve had a bad cold, and been shut up a +week.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing. It’s dull as tombs up here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you read?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much. They won’t let me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t somebody read to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandpa does sometimes, but my books don’t interest him, and I +hate to ask Brooke all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have someone come and see you then.” +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t anyone I’d like to see. Boys make such a row, +and my head is weak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse you? Girls +are quiet and like to play nurse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know any.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know us,” began Jo, then laughed and stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“So I do! Will you come, please?” cried Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not quiet and nice, but I’ll come, if Mother will let +me. I’ll go ask her. Shut the window, like a good boy, and wait till I +come.” +</p> + +<p> +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 color, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 quite +at her ease, with a covered dish in one hand and Beth’s three kittens in +the other. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +cozy room this is!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 mantelpiece, +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?” and Jo looked +affectionately toward some inviting books near by. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you! I’ve read all those, and if you don’t mind, +I’d rather talk,” answered Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit. I’ll talk all day if you’ll only set me going. +Beth says I never know when to stop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Beth the rosy one, who stays at home good deal and sometimes goes out +with a little basket?” asked Laurie with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s Beth. She’s my girl, and a regular good one she +is, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is Amy, I +believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you find that out?” +</p> + +<p> +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 around 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 and happiness, she gladly tried to share +it with him. Her face was very friendly and her sharp voice unusually gentle as +she said... +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t go to school, I’m a businessman—girl, I mean. I +go to wait on my great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too,” +answered Jo. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 reveled. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“If you like them so much, come down and see ours. Grandfather is out, so +you needn’t be afraid,” said Laurie, getting up. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not afraid of anything,” returned Jo, with a toss of the +head. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere of the whole house being summerlike, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What richness!” sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velour +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. +</p> + +<p> +“A fellow can’t live on books,” said Laurie, shaking his head +as he perched on a table opposite. +</p> + +<p> +Before he could say more, a bell rang, and Jo flew up, exclaiming with alarm, +“Mercy me! It’s your grandpa!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what if it is? You are not afraid of anything, you know,” +returned the boy, looking wicked. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a great deal better for it, and ever so much obliged. +I’m only afraid you are very tired of talking to me. It was so pleasant, +I couldn’t bear to stop,” said Laurie gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor to see you, sir,” and the maid beckoned as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I suppose I must see +him,” said Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t mind me. I’m happy as a cricket here,” answered +Jo. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, ma’am,” said a gruff voice behind her, and there, +to her great dismay, stood old Mr. Laurence. +</p> + +<p> +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 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 the dreadful pause, “So +you’re not afraid of me, hey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you don’t think me as handsome as your grandfather?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ve got a tremendous will, have I?” +</p> + +<p> +“I only said I thought so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you like me in spite of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir,” And Jo was quite comfortable after that, for it +suited her exactly. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you been doing to this boy of mine, hey?” was the next +question, sharply put. +</p> + +<p> +“Only trying to be neighborly, sir.” And Jo told how her visit came +about. +</p> + +<p> +“You think he needs cheering up a bit, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, tut! That was the boy’s affair. How is the poor +woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you’d like to have me, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shouldn’t ask you, if I didn’t.” And Mr. Laurence +offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey! Why, what the dickens has come to the fellow?” said the old +gentleman, as Laurie came running downstairs and brought up with a start of +surprise at the astounding sight of Jo arm in arm with his redoubtable +grandfather. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know you’d come, sir,” he began, as Jo gave +him a triumphant little glance. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s evident, by the way you racket downstairs. 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 about 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you play?” she asked, turning to Laurie with a respectful +expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” he answered modestly. +</p> + +<p> +“Please do now. I want to hear it, so I can tell Beth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you first?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know how. Too stupid to learn, but I love music +dearly.” +</p> + +<p> +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 his rescue. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do, that will do, young lady. Too many sugarplums 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 something amiss. He shook +his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it was me. He doesn’t like to hear me play.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you some day. John is going home with you, as I +can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“No need of that. I am not a young lady, and it’s only a step. Take +care of yourself, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but you will come again, I hope?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you promise to come and see us after you are well.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Laurie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Jo, good night!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, why didn’t Mr. Laurence like to have Laurie play?” +asked Jo, who was of an inquiring disposition. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, how romantic!” exclaimed Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know about his eyes and his manners? You never spoke to him, +hardly,” cried Jo, who was not sentimental. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He meant the blanc mange, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“How stupid you are, child! He meant you, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he?” And Jo opened her eyes as if it had never occurred to her +before. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Jo, your little friend is very welcome, and I hope Meg will +remember that children should be children as long as they can.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t call myself a child, and I’m not in my teens +yet,” observed Amy. “What do you say, Beth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking about our ‘<i>Pilgrim’s +Progress</i>’,” 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have got to get by the lions first,” said Jo, as if she rather +liked the prospect. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER SIX<br/> +BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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’. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, let him take a holiday, and make it up afterward,” +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 never +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 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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 practice on it now and then, just to +keep it in tune, you know, ma’am?” +</p> + +<p> +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 +practicing 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... +</p> + +<p> +“They needn’t see or speak to anyone, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh sir, they do care, very very much!” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you the musical girl?” he asked, without any startling +“Hey!” as he looked down at her very kindly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How kind you are, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +Beth blushed like a rose under the friendly look he wore, but she was not +frightened now, and gave the 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 home. How blithely she +sang 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. +</p> + +<p> +She stayed till Hannah came to take her home to dinner, but she had no +appetite, and could only sit and smile upon everyone in a general state of +beatitude. +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 needlewoman, and they were finished before anyone got tired +of them. Then she wrote a short, simple note, and with Laurie’s help, got +them smuggled onto the study table one morning before the old gentleman was up. +</p> + +<p> +When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen. All day +passed and a part of the next before any acknowledgement arrived, and she was +beginning to fear she had offended her crochety 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s a letter from the old gentleman! Come quick, and read +it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me?” gasped Beth, holding onto Jo and feeling as if she should +tumble down, it was such an overwhelming thing altogether. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Jo opened the paper and began to laugh, for the first words she saw were... +</p> + +<p> +“Miss March: “Dear Madam—” +</p> + +<p> +“How nice it sounds! I wish someone would write to me so!” said +Amy, who thought the old-fashioned address very elegant. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I have had many pairs of slippers in my life, but I never had any +that suited me so well as yours,’” continues 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 grand daughter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain +“‘Your grateful friend and humble servant, ‘JAMES +LAURENCE’.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“‘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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +So Beth tried it, and everyone 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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 cozily 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 up-lifted hands, “Well, I do believe the world is +coming to an end.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN<br/> +AMY’S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION</h2> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t say anything about his eyes, and I don’t see why +you need fire up when I admire his riding.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my goodness! That little goose means a centaur, and she called him a +Cyclops,” exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laugh at +Amy’s second blunder. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“In debt, Amy? What do you mean?” And Meg looked sober. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +everyone is sucking them in their desks in schooltime, 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 doesn’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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much will pay them off and restore your credit?” asked Meg, +taking out her purse. +</p> + +<p> +“A quarter would more than do it, and leave a few cents over for a treat +for you. Don’t you like limes?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +pretense of asking an important question, informed Mr. Davis, the teacher, that +Amy March had pickled limes in her desk. +</p> + +<p> +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 schoolgirl, “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. +</p> + +<p> +“Young ladies, attention, if you please!” +</p> + +<p> +At the stern order the buzz ceased, and fifty pairs of blue, black, gray, and +brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awful countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss March, come to the desk.” +</p> + +<p> +Amy rose to comply with outward composure, but a secret fear oppressed her, for +the limes weighed upon her conscience. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring with you the limes you have in your desk,” was the +unexpected command which arrested her before she got out of her seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t take all.” whispered her neighbor, a young lady of +great presence of mind. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” stammered Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring the rest immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure there are no more?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never lie, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two, and throw them +out of the window.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr. Davis gave a portentous +“Hem!” and said, in his most impressive manner... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You will now stand on the platform till recess,” said Mr. Davis, +resolved to do the thing thoroughly, since he had begun. +</p> + +<p> +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 hard to study with that pathetic +figure before them. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“You can go, Miss March,” said Mr. Davis, looking, as he felt, +uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +He did not soon forget the reproachful glance Amy gave him, as she went, +without a word to anyone, straight into the anteroom, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the whole school?” +cried Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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 bolder 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone had +told her.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You do know her, and she helps you better than anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 sang 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 evening, said suddenly, as if busy over some new idea, +“Is Laurie an accomplished boy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he has had an excellent education, and has much talent. He will +make a fine man, if not spoiled by petting,” replied her mother. +</p> + +<p> +“And he isn’t conceited, is he?” asked Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“Not in the least. That is why he is so charming and we all like him so +much.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. It’s nice to have accomplishments and be elegant, but not +to show off or get perked up,” said Amy thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“These things are always seen and felt in a person’s manner and +conversations, if modestly used, but it is not necessary to display +them,” said Mrs. March. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT<br/> +JO MEETS APOLLYON</h2> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. Little girls shouldn’t ask questions,” returned +Jo sharply. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we are. Now do be still, and stop bothering.” +</p> + +<p> +Amy held her tongue, but used her eyes, and saw Meg slip a fan into her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I know! I know! You’re going to the theater to see the <i>Seven +Castles!</i>” 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we take her. I don’t believe Mother would mind, if we +bundle her up well,” began Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“If she goes I shan’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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 shan’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. +</p> + +<p> +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 spoiled 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fiddlesticks!” returned Jo, slamming the door. +</p> + +<p> +They had a charming time, for <i>The Seven Castles Of The Diamond Lake</i> was +as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish. But in spite of the comical red +imps, sparkling elves, and the 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 semioccasional 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +anyone taken my book?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Amy, you’ve got it!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know where it is, then!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a fib!” cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders, and +looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t. I haven’t got it, don’t know where it is +now, and don’t care.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know something about it, and you’d better tell at once, or +I’ll make you.” And Jo gave her a slight shake. +</p> + +<p> +“Scold as much as you like, you’ll never see your silly old book +again,” cried Amy, getting excited in her turn. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I burned it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! My little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to +finish before Father got home? Have you really burned it?” said Jo, +turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did! I told you I’d make you pay for being so cross +yesterday, and I have, so...” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again, and I’ll +never forgive you as long as I live.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +When the tea bell rang, Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable that it +took all Amy’s courage to say meekly... +</p> + +<p> +“Please forgive me, Jo. I’m very, very sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never shall forgive you,” was Jo’s stern answer, and from +that moment she ignored Amy entirely. +</p> + +<p> +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 sang +alone. But in spite of their efforts to be as cheery as larks, the flutelike +voices did not seem to chord as well as usual, and all felt out of tune. +</p> + +<p> +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 tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +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 doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.” +</p> + +<p> +With that she marched off to bed, and there was no merry or confidential gossip +that night. +</p> + +<p> +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 turnover in +the gutter, Aunt March had an attack of the fidgets, Meg was sensitive, 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 +even try when other people set them a virtuous example. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“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 crosspatch to take me.” +</p> + +<p> +“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, +than 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing on 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Keep near the shore. It isn’t safe in the middle.” Jo heard, +but Amy was 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... +</p> + +<p> +“No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself.” +</p> + +<p> +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 in 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 a 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Bring a rail. Quick, quick!” +</p> + +<p> +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 stick till Jo dragged a rail from the +fence, and together they got the child out, more frightened than hurt. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my dreadful temper! I try to cure it, I think I have, and +then it breaks out worse than ever. Oh, Mother, what shall I do? What shall I +do?” cried poor Jo, in despair. +</p> + +<p> +“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 even +harder. +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone and enjoy it. I’m afraid I shall do something dreadful some +day, and spoil my life, and make everybody hate me. Oh, Mother, help me, do +help me!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yours, Mother? Why, you are never angry!” And for the moment Jo +forgot remorse in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 for +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 disheveled hair. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“My good mother used to help me...” +</p> + +<p> +“As you do us...” interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss. +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Mother! What helped you then?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 practice 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mother, if I’m ever half as good as you, I shall be +satisfied,” cried Jo, much touched. +</p> + +<p> +“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 today.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 and went away. Was he reminding you then?” asked Jo +softly. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d grieved you.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 lifelong +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 always +welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer +than that of any mother. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I let the sun go down on my anger. I wouldn’t forgive her, and +today, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER NINE<br/> +MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR</h2> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tarlaton.” +</p> + + +<p> +“It will look nice 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. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure chest, 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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, you’ve got the tarlaton 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. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t low-necked, and it doesn’t sweep enough, but it +will have to do. My blue housedress 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Change it,” advised Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her nightcaps. Would you put some +on mine?” she asked, as Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins, fresh +from Hannah’s hands. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I shall ever be happy enough to have real lace on my clothes +and bows on my caps?” said Meg impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tarlaton, which she called her +‘ball dress’ with an important air. +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 theaters 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. Everyone petted her, and +‘Daisey’, as they called her, was in a fair way to have her head +turned. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s for Belle, of course, George always sends her some, but these +are altogether ravishing,” cried Annie, with a great sniff. +</p> + +<p> +“They are for Miss March, the man said. And here’s a note,” +put in the maid, holding it to Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“The note is from Mother, and the flowers from Laurie,” said Meg +simply, yet much gratified that he had not forgotten her. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +She enjoyed herself very much that evening, for she danced to her heart’s +content. Everyone 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 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... +</p> + +<p> +“How old is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen or seventeen, I should say,” replied another voice. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“She told that fib about her momma, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s proud, but I don’t believe she’d mind, for that +dowdy tarlaton is all she has got. She may tear it tonight, and that will be a +good excuse for offering a decent one.” +</p> + +<p> +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 tarlaton,” 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 +spoiled 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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, Cherie?” asked Miss Belle. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s too old.” +</p> + +<p> +“My child, what do you mean? What is his age, I beg to know!” cried +Miss Clara. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly seventy, I believe,” answered Meg, counting stitches to +hide the merriment in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You sly creature! Of course we meant the young man,” exclaimed +Miss Belle, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“About your age,” Nan said. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearer my sister Jo’s; I am seventeen in August,” returned +Meg, tossing her head. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very nice of him to send you flowers, isn’t it?” +said Annie, looking wise about nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s evident Daisy isn’t out yet,” said Miss Clara to +Belle with a nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite a pastoral state of innocence all round,” returned Miss +Belle with a shrug. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you, ma’am,” replied Sallie. “I’ve got +my new pink silk for Thursday and don’t want a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I...” began Meg, but stopped because it occurred to her that +she did want several things and could not have them. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall you wear?” asked Sallie. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you send home for another?” said Sallie, who was +not an observing young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all. Where is the use of having a lot of dresses when she +isn’t out yet? 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +shan’t let anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 toward the Moffats. +</p> + +<p> +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 +soupcon 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 earrings, for Hortense tied +them on with a bit of pink silk which did not show. A cluster of tea-rose buds +at the bosom, and a ruche, reconciled Meg to the display of her pretty, white +shoulders, and a pair of high-heeled silk boots satisfied the last wish of her +heart. A lace handkerchief, a plumy fan, and a bouquet in a shoulder holder +finished her off, and Miss Belle surveyed her with the satisfaction of a little +girl with a newly dressed doll. +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle is charmante, tres jolie, is she not?” cried +Hortense, clasping her hands in an affected rapture. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and show yourself,” said Miss Belle, leading the way to the +room where the others were waiting. +</p> + +<p> +As Meg went rustling after, with her long skirts trailing, her earrings +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 a jackdaw in the +fable, enjoying her borrowed plumes, while the rest chattered like a party of +magpies. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 the +sofas, and criticized the rest of the party, inquired who she was with an air +of interest. She heard Mrs. Moffat reply to one of them... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 earrings 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you came, I was afraid you wouldn’t.” she +said, with her most grown-up air. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think she would,” returned Laurie gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you like me so?” asked Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” was the blunt reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” in an anxious tone. +</p> + +<p> +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 in it. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like fuss and feathers.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“They are making a fool of that little girl. I wanted you to see her, but +they have spoiled her entirely. She’s nothing but a doll tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 of myself.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Please forgive my rudeness, and come and dance with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid it will be too disagreeable to you,” said Meg, +trying to look offended and failing entirely. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Meg smiled and relented, and whispered as they stood waiting to catch the time, +“Take care my skirt doesn’t trip you up. It’s the plague of +my life and I was a goose to wear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Away they went fleetly and gracefully, for having practiced 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t I!” said Laurie, with alacrity. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t tell them at home about my dress tonight. They +won’t understand the joke, and it will worry Mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you do it?” said Laurie’s eyes, so plainly that +Meg hastily added... +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I give you my word I won’t, only what shall I say when they ask +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just say I looked pretty well and was having a good time.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +He did not speak to her again till suppertime, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have a splitting headache tomorrow, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not Meg tonight, I’m ‘a doll’ who does all +sorts of crazy things. Tomorrow I shall put away my ‘fuss and +feathers’ and be desperately good again,” she answered with an +affected little laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Wish tomorrow was here, then,” muttered Laurie, walking off, +ill-pleased at the change he saw in her. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember!” she said, trying to smile, for the splitting headache +had already begun. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence a la mort,” replied Laurie, with a melodramatic flourish, +as he went away. +</p> + +<p> +This little bit of byplay 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Marmee, I want to ‘fess’.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so. What is it, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I go away?” asked Jo discreetly. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not. Don’t I always tell you everything? I was ashamed +to speak of it before the younger children, but I want you to know all the +dreadful things I did at the Moffats’.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are prepared,” said Mrs. March, smiling but looking a little +anxious. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I drank champagne and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether +abominable,” said Meg self-reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“There is something more, I think.” And Mrs. March smoothed the +soft cheek, which suddenly grew rosy as Meg answered slowly... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“If you tell Laurie, I’ll never forgive you! She mustn’t, +must she, Mother?” said Meg, looking distressed. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, do you have ‘plans’, as Mrs. Moffat said?” +asked Meg bashfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor girls don’t stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put +themselves forward,” sighed Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’ll be old maids,” said Jo stoutly. +</p> + +<p> +“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 hope and trust that our daughters, whether married or +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> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER TEN<br/> +THE P.C. AND P.O.</h2> + +<p> +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 birds and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers, rather small and +earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, with honeysuckle 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 reveled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven +o’clock, the four members ascended to the clubroom, 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. On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put +on a pair of spectacles without any glass, 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:<br /><br /> +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“THE PICKWICK PORTFOLIO” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +MAY 20, 18— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +POET’S CORNER +</p> + +<p class="center"> +ANNIVERSARY ODE +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Again we meet to celebrate<br /> +Â Â Â Â With badge and solemn rite,<br /> +Our fifty-second anniversary,<br /> +Â Â Â Â In Pickwick Hall, tonight.<br /> +<br /> +We all are here in perfect health,<br /> +Â Â Â Â None gone from our small band:<br /> +Again we see each well-known face,<br /> +Â Â Â Â And press each friendly hand.<br /> +<br /> +Our Pickwick, always at his post,<br /> +Â Â Â Â With reverence we greet,<br /> +As, spectacles on nose, he reads<br /> +Â Â Â Â Our well-filled weekly sheet.<br /> +<br /> +Although he suffers from a cold,<br /> +Â Â Â Â We joy to hear him speak,<br /> +For words of wisdom from him fall,<br /> +Â Â Â Â In spite of croak or squeak.<br /> +<br /> +Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,<br /> +Â Â Â Â With elephantine grace,<br /> +And beams upon the company,<br /> +Â Â Â Â With brown and jovial face.<br /> +<br /> +Poetic fire lights up his eye,<br /> +Â Â Â Â He struggles ’gainst his lot.<br /> +Behold ambition on his brow,<br /> +Â Â Â Â And on his nose, a blot.<br /> +<br /> +Next our peaceful Tupman comes,<br /> +Â Â Â Â So rosy, plump, and sweet,<br /> +Who chokes with laughter at the puns,<br /> +Â Â Â Â And tumbles off his seat.<br /> +<br /> +Prim little Winkle too is here,<br /> +Â Â Â Â With every hair in place,<br /> +A model of propriety,<br /> +Â Â Â Â Though he hates to wash his face.<br /> +<br /> +The year is gone, we still unite<br /> +Â Â Â Â To joke and laugh and read,<br /> +And tread the path of literature<br /> +Â Â Â Â That doth to glory lead.<br /> +<br /> +Long may our paper prosper well,<br /> +Â Â Â Â Our club unbroken be,<br /> +And coming years their blessings pour<br /> +Â Â Â Â On the useful, gay ‘P. C.’. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +A. S<small>NODGRASS</small> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +THE MASKED MARRIAGE<br /> +(A Tale Of Venice) +</p> + +<p> +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 Adelon. +Knights and ladies, elves and pages, monks and flower girls, all mingled gaily +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 +tonight?” asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down +the hall upon his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 on 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: +</p> + +<p> +“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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p class="right"> +S. P<small>ICKWICK</small> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="letter"> +Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel?<br /> +It is full of unruly members. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 grocerman 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. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +T. T<small>UPMAN</small> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="letter"> +Mr. Pickwick, <i>Sir:</i>—<br /> +Â Â Â Â 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 <i>commy la fo</i> that means +all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours respectably,<br /> +N. W<small>INKLE</small> +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[The above is a manly and handsome acknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If our +young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.] +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +A SAD ACCIDENT +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +E<small>D</small>. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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.<br /> +Â Â Â Â 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. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +A sympathizing friend sends the following gem: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +A LAMENT<br /> +<small>FOR S. B. PAT PAW</small> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +We mourn the loss of our little pet,<br /> +Â Â Â Â And sigh o’er her hapless fate,<br /> +For never more by the fire she’ll sit,<br /> +Â Â Â Â Nor play by the old green gate.<br /> +<br /> +The little grave where her infant sleeps<br /> +Â Â Â Â Is ’neath the chestnut tree.<br /> +But o’er <i>her</i> grave we may not weep,<br /> +Â Â Â Â We know not where it may be.<br /> +<br /> +Her empty bed, her idle ball,<br /> +Â Â Â Â Will never see her more;<br /> +No gentle tap, no loving purr<br /> +Â Â Â Â Is heard at the parlor door.<br /> +<br /> +Another cat comes after her mice,<br /> +Â Â Â Â A cat with a dirty face,<br /> +But she does not hunt as our darling did,<br /> +Â Â Â Â Nor play with her airy grace.<br /> +<br /> +Her stealthy paws tread the very hall<br /> +Â Â Â Â Where Snowball used to play,<br /> +But she only spits at the dogs our pet<br /> +Â Â Â Â So gallantly drove away.<br /> +<br /> +She is useful and mild, and does her best,<br /> +Â Â Â Â But she is not fair to see,<br /> +And we cannot give her your place dear,<br /> +Â Â Â Â Nor worship her as we worship thee. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +A.S.<br /> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> + ADVERTISEMENTS +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>ISS</small> O<small>RANTHY</small> B<small>LUGGAGE</small>, the +accomplished strong-minded lecturer, will deliver her famous lecture on +“W<small>OMAN AND</small> H<small>ER</small> +P<small>OSITION</small>” at Pickwick Hall, next Saturday Evening, after +the usual performances. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +A W<small>EEKLY</small> M<small>EETING</small> will be held at Kitchen Place, +to teach young ladies how to cook. Hannah Brown will preside, and all are +invited to attend. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +T<small>HE</small> D<small>USTPAN</small> S<small>OCIETY</small> 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>RS</small>. B<small>ETH</small> B<small>OUNCER</small> will open her +new assortment of Doll’s Millinery next week. The latest Paris fashions +have arrived, and orders are respectfully solicited. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +A N<small>EW</small> P<small>LAY</small> will appear at the Barnville Theatre, +in the course of a few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen on the +American stage. “T<small>HE</small> G<small>REEK</small> +S<small>LAVE</small>, or Constantine the Avenger,” is the name of this +thrilling drama!!! +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +HINTS +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +WEEKLY REPORT +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Meg—Good.<br /> +Jo—Bad.<br /> +Beth—Very Good.<br /> +Amy—Middling. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll put it to a vote,” said the President. “All in +favor of this motion please to manifest it by saying, ‘Aye’.” +</p> + +<p> +A loud response from Snodgrass, followed, to everybody’s surprise, by a +timid one from Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“Contrary-minded say, ‘No’.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman to his feet, looking +as if he had quite made up his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; we ought to do it, even if we are afraid. I say he may come, and +his grandpa, too, if he likes.” +</p> + +<p> +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, ‘Aye!’” cried Snodgrass +excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye! Aye! Aye!” replied three voices at once. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Good!” cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the old warming +pan on which she leaned. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tonight. I planned it, and she only gave in after +lots of teasing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, don’t lay it all on yourself. You know I proposed the +cupboard,” broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the joke amazingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Never 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 devote myself to the interest +of this immortal club.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear! Hear!” cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warming pan like a +cymbal. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, go on!” added Winkle and Tupman, while the President bowed +benignly. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone came out +surprising, for everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 remodeled her own +works with good effect, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +The P. O. was a capital little institution, and flourished wonderfully, for +nearly as many queer things passed through it as through the real post 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN<br/> +EXPERIMENTS</h2> + +<p> +“The first of June! The Kings are off to the seashore tomorrow, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt March went today, 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 of, she popped out her +head, saying, ‘Josyphine, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?” observed Amy, +tasting her mixture critically. +</p> + +<p> +“She means vampire, not seaweed, but it doesn’t matter. It’s +too warm to be particular about one’s parts of speech,” murmured +Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall you do all your vacation?” asked Amy, changing the +subject with tact. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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——” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say ‘larks!’” implored Amy, as a return +snub for the ‘samphire’ correction. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll say ‘nightingales’ then, with Laurie. +That’s proper and appropriate, since he’s a warbler.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“May we, Mother?” asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing +in what they called ‘Marmee’s corner’. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, no! It will be delicious, I’m sure,” said Meg +complacently. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 good, 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 to 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 <i>The Wide, Wide World</i>, 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 +honeysuckle, hoping someone would see and inquire who the young artist was. As +no one appeared but an inquisitive daddy-longlegs, who examined her work with +interest, she went to walk, got caught in a shower, and came home dripping. +</p> + +<p> +At teatime 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 +burned 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 reveling’ process. The days kept getting longer +and longer, the weather was unusually variable and so were tempers; an +unsettled feeling possessed everyone, 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 a 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 tranquility 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 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 traveling, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy on us! What has happened?” cried Jo, staring about her in +dismay. +</p> + +<p> +Meg ran upstairs and soon came back again, looking relieved but rather +bewildered, and a little ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 why servants ever talked about hard work. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +So a tray was fitted out before anyone began, and taken up with the +cook’s compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelet scorched, +and the biscuits speckled with saleratus, but Mrs. March received her repast +with thanks and laughed heartily over it after Jo was gone. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better see what you have got before you think of having +company,” said Meg, when informed of the hospitable but rash act. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I shall. I’m not a fool.” And Jo went off in a +huff at the doubts expressed of her powers. +</p> + +<p> +“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 today, and read, write, go visiting, and amuse myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The unusual spectacle of her busy mother rocking comfortably and reading early +in the morning made Jo feel as if some unnatural phenomenon had occurred, for +an eclipse, an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption would hardly have seemed +stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything is out of sorts, somehow,” she said to herself, going +downstairs. “There’s Beth crying, that’s a sure sign that +something is wrong in this family. If Amy is bothering, I’ll shake +her.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all my fault, I forgot him, there isn’t a seed or a +drop left. Oh, Pip! Oh, Pip! How could I be so cruel to you?” cried Beth, +taking the poor thing in her hands and trying to restore him. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Put him in the oven, and maybe he will get warm and revive,” said +Amy hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s been starved, and he shan’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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s a sweet prospect!” muttered Jo, slamming the stove +door open, and poking vigorously among the cinders. +</p> + +<p> +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 disheveled figure +appeared, demanding tartly... +</p> + +<p> +“I say, isn’t bread ‘riz’ enough when it runs over the +pans?” +</p> + +<p> +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, +criticized everything, and told stories of the people whom she knew. +</p> + +<p> +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 burned black; for the salad dressing +so aggravated her 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 meager 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 the +last. The blanc mange was lumpy, and the strawberries not as ripe as they +looked, having been skilfully ‘deaconed’. +</p> + +<p> +“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 before Laurie, accustomed to +all sorts of elegance, and Miss Crocker, whose tattling tongue would report +them far and wide. +</p> + +<p> +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 +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 everyone 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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what is it?” exclaimed Jo, trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Salt instead of sugar, and the cream is sour,” replied Meg with a +tragic gesture. +</p> + +<p> +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 +everyone else, even ‘Croaker’ as the girls called the old lady, and +the unfortunate dinner ended gaily, with bread and butter, olives and fun. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here lies Pip March,<br/> +Who died the 7th of June;<br/> +Loved and lamented sore,<br/> +And not forgotten soon. +</p> + +<p> +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 the 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 until the last minute. As twilight +fell, dewy and still, one by one they gathered on the porch where the June +roses were budding beautifully, and each groaned or sighed as she sat down, as +if tired or troubled. +</p> + +<p> +“What a dreadful day this has been!” began Jo, usually the first to +speak. +</p> + +<p> +“It has seemed shorter than usual, but so uncomfortable,” said Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit like home,” added Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t seem so without Marmee and little Pip,” sighed +Beth, glancing with full eyes at the empty cage above her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s Mother, dear, and you shall have another bird tomorrow, if +you want it.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, Mrs. March came and took her place among them, looking as if her +holiday had not been much pleasanter than theirs. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t!” cried Jo decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” echoed the others. +</p> + +<p> +“You think then, that it is better to have a few duties and live a little +for others, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“We do, Mother, we do!” cried the girls. +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 buttonholes, and attend +to my parts of speech.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll remember, Mother!” and they did. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE<br/> +CAMP LAURENCE</h2> + +<p> +Beth was postmistress, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove,” continued Beth, +delivering the articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching +wristbands. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m sure I didn’t, for there was only one in the +office.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 worktable, full of tidy white rolls, so +unconscious of the thought in her mother’s mind as she sewed and sang, +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered +the whole post office and stuck outside,” said Beth, laughing as she went +into the study where Jo sat writing. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +One from her mother made her cheeks glow and her eyes fill, for it said to +her... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +My Dear: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 guidebook. 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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Mother +</p> + +<p> +“That does me good! That’s worth millions of money and pecks of +praise. Oh, Marmee, I do try! I will keep on trying, and not get tired, since I +have you to help me.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Jo, What ho! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Some English girls and boys are coming to see me tomorrow 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! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +In a tearing hurry, Yours ever, Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s richness!” cried Jo, flying in to tell the news to +Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope the Vaughns are not fine grown-up people. Do you know anything +about them, Jo?” asked Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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, +Betty?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you won’t let any boys talk to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a boy!” +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone, and you’ll take care of me, Jo, so +I’ll go.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a box of chocolate drops, and the picture I wanted to copy,” +said Amy, showing her mail. +</p> + +<p> +“And I got a note from Mr. Laurence, asking me to come over and play to +him tonight, before the lamps are lighted, and I shall go,” added Beth, +whose friendship with the old gentleman prospered finely. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let’s fly round, and do double duty today, so that we can play +tomorrow with free minds,” said Jo, preparing to replace her pen with a +broom. +</p> + +<p> +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 +fete as seemed necessary and proper. Meg had an extra row of little curlpapers +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 clothespin 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 it was now being put. This funny spectacle appeared to amuse the +sun, for he burst out with such radiance that Jo woke up and roused her sisters +by a hearty laugh at Amy’s ornament. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. Meg, isn’t that the +man who bowed to you one day when we were shopping?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“A regular daisy. Hold up your dress and put your hat on straight, it +looks sentimental tipped that way and will fly off at the first puff. Now then, +come on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 hatbrims. +</p> + +<p> +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 +who 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 standoff-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. +</p> + +<p> +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. Miss Kate decided that she was +‘odd’, but rather clever, and smiled upon her from afar. +</p> + +<p> +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 encyclopedia 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 pique dress clean and +chattering with the ubiquitous Fred, who kept Beth in constant terror by his +pranks. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome to Camp Laurence!” said the young host, as they landed +with exclamations of delight. +</p> + +<p> +“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 messroom and the third +is the camp kitchen. Now, let’s have a game before it gets hot, and then +we’ll see about dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +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 English 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m through! Now, Miss Jo, I’ll settle you, and get in +first,” cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow. +</p> + +<p> +“You pushed it. I saw you. It’s my turn now,” said Jo +sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t cheat in America, but you can, if you choose,” said +Jo angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yankees are a deal the most tricky, everybody knows. There you +go!” returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“By George, it’s all up with us! Goodbye, Kate. Miss Jo owes me +one, so you are finished,” cried Fred excitedly, as they all drew near to +see the finish. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 the 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.” +</p> + +<p> +Meg drew her aside, under pretense of pinning up a loose braid, and said +approvingly, “It was dreadfully provoking, but you kept your temper, and +I’m so glad, Jo.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 control 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +coffeepot, 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. +</p> + +<p> +The commander in chief and his aides soon spread the tablecloth with an +inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green +leaves. Jo announced that the coffee was ready, and everyone 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 in 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. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s salt here,” said Laurie, as he handed Jo a saucer of +berries. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 all go, and I’m no end obliged to you. +What shall we do when we can’t eat anymore?” asked Laurie, feeling +that his trump card had been played when lunch was over. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +Rig-marole. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 traveled 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 anyone who could 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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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 halfway down when +the ladder broke, and he went headfirst 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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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 specter plucked him +back, and waved threateningly before him a...” +</p> + +<p> +“Snuffbox,” 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 keyhole 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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +alee, 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 began. Of +course the British beat—they always do.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, they don’t!” cried Jo, aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap over the schooner, +whose decks were piled high with dead and whose lee scuppers ran blood, for the +order had been ‘Cutlasses, and die hard!’ ‘Bosun’s +mate, take a bight of the flying-jib sheet, and start this villain if he +doesn’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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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 a 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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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...” +</p> + +<p> +“‘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 and +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 buttonhole. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What a piece of nonsense we have made! With practice we might do +something quite clever. Do you know Truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so,” said Meg soberly. +</p> + +<p> +“The game, I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“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 question put by the +rest. It’s great fun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s try it,” said Jo, who liked new experiments. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Kate and Mr. Brooke, Meg, and Ned declined, but Fred, Sallie, Jo, and +Laurie piled and drew, and the lot fell to Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are your heroes?” asked Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“Grandfather and Napoleon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which lady here do you think prettiest?” said Sallie. +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which do you like best?” from Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“Jo, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“What silly questions you ask!” And Jo gave a disdainful shrug as +the rest laughed at Laurie’s matter-of-fact tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Try again. Truth isn’t a bad game,” said Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a very good one for you,” retorted Jo in a low voice. +Her turn came next. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your greatest fault?” asked Fred, by way of testing in her +the virtue he lacked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“A quick temper.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you most wish for?” said Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“A pair of boot lacings,” returned Jo, guessing and defeating his +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a true answer. You must say what you really do want most.” +</p> + +<p> +“Genius. Don’t you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?” And +she slyly smiled in his disappointed face. +</p> + +<p> +“What virtues do you most admire in a man?” asked Sallie. +</p> + +<p> +“Courage and honesty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now my turn,” said Fred, as his hand came last. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s give it to him,” whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded +and asked at once... +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you cheat at croquet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, a little bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Didn’t you take your story out of <i>The Sea +Lion?</i>” said Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think the English nation perfect in every +respect?” asked Sallie. +</p> + +<p> +“I should be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a true John Bull. Now, Miss Sallie, you shall have a chance +without waiting to draw. I’ll harrrow 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. +</p> + +<p> +“You impertinent boy! Of course I’m not,” exclaimed Sallie, +with an air that proved the contrary. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you hate most?” asked Fred. +</p> + +<p> +“Spiders and rice pudding.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you like best?” asked Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“Dancing and French gloves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think Truth is a very silly play. Let’s have a sensible +game of Authors to refresh our minds,” proposed Jo. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“How beautifully you do it! I wish I could draw,” said Meg, with +mingled admiration and regret in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for +it,” replied Miss Kate graciously. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t time.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have none.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t go at all. I am a governess myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Did the German song suit, Miss March?” inquired Mr. Brooke, +breaking an awkward pause. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you read German?” asked Miss Kate with a look of +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so hard I’m afraid to try,” said Meg, grateful, +but bashful in the presence of the accomplished young lady beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Brooke made no comment as she returned the book to Meg, who said +innocently, “I thought it was poetry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some of it is. Try this passage.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a queer smile about Mr. Brooke’s mouth as he opened at poor +Mary’s lament. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well indeed!” said Mr. Brooke, as she paused, quite ignoring +her many mistakes, and looking as if he did indeed love to teach. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Kate put up her glass, and, having taken a survey of the little tableau +before her, shut her sketch book, saying with condescension, +“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 spoiled among them.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 wished I liked teaching as you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Going to college, I suppose?” Meg’s lips asked the question, +but her eyes added, “And what becomes of you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me about Ellen Tree. Is it a donkey?” asked Grace curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you see, Jo is crazy about horses and so am I, but we’ve only +got an old sidesaddle 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Talk to me, please. It’s dull, sitting by myself,” answered +Frank, who had evidently been used to being made much of at home. +</p> + +<p> +If he 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you like to talk about?” she asked, fumbling over the +cards and dropping half as she tried to tie them up. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless her heart! She pities him, so she is good to him,” said Jo, +beaming at her from the croquet ground. +</p> + +<p> +“I always said she was a little saint,” added Meg, as if there +could be no further doubt of it. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“My sister Beth is a very fastidious girl, when she likes to be,” +said Amy, well pleased at Beth’s success. She meant +‘facinating’, but as Grace didn’t know the exact meaning of +either word, fastidious sounded well and made a good impression. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Alone, alone, ah! Woe, alone, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and at the lines... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +We each are young, we each have a heart,<br/> +Oh, why should we stand thus coldly apart? +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +he looked at Meg with such a lackadaisical expression that she laughed outright +and spoiled his song. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a particle, but she’s a dear,” returned Sallie, +defending her friend even while confessing her shortcomings. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not a stricken deer anyway,” said Ned, trying to be +witty, and succeeding as well as very young gentlemen usually do. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite agree with you,” said Mr. Brooke. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<br/> +CASTLES IN THE AIR</h2> + +<p> +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 practicing half the +afternoon, frightened the maidservants half out of their wits by mischievously +hinting that one of his dogs was going mad, and, after high words with the +stableman 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 boathouse, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s a landscape!” thought Laurie, peeping through the +bushes, and looking wide-awake and good-natured already. +</p> + +<p> +It was a rather 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 with +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. +</p> + +<p> +“May I come in, please? Or shall I be a bother?” he asked, +advancing slowly. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I always like your games, but if Meg doesn’t want me, I’ll +go away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no objection, if you do something. It’s against the +rules to be idle here,” replied Meg gravely but graciously. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Finish this story while I set my heel,” said Jo, handing him the +book. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes’m.” was the meek answer, as he began, doing his best to +prove his gratitude for the favor of admission into the ‘Busy Bee +Society’. +</p> + +<p> +The story was not a long one, and when it was finished, he ventured to ask a +few questions as a reward of merit. +</p> + +<p> +“Please, ma’am, could I inquire if this highly instructive and +charming institution is a new one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you tell him?” asked Meg of her sisters. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll laugh,” said Amy warningly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who cares?” said Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess he’ll like it,” added Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I shall! I give you my word I won’t laugh. Tell away, +Jo, and don’t be afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know,” said Laurie, nodding wisely. +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you?” demanded Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“Spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t keep a secret. Never mind, it saves trouble now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, please,” said Laurie, as Jo became absorbed in her work, +looking a trifle displeased. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I should think so,” and Laurie thought regretfully of his own +idle days. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo pointed, and Laurie sat up to examine, for through an opening in the wood +one could look cross 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 glowed with the splendor of an autumn +sunset. Gold and purple clouds lay on the hilltops, and rising high into the +ruddy light were silvery white peaks that shone like the airy spires of some +Celestial City. +</p> + +<p> +“How beautiful that is!” said Laurie softly, for he was quick to +see and feel beauty of any kind. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Jo talks about the country where we hope to live sometime—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. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a lovelier country even than that, where we shall go, +by-and-by, when we are good enough,” answered Meg with her sweetest +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have me for company, if that’s any comfort. I shall +have to do a deal of traveling 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?” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d have to take your favorite one. What is it?” asked +Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“If I tell mine, will you tell yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if the girls will too.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will. Now, Laurie.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone love me dearly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you have a master for your castle in the air?” +asked Laurie slyly. +</p> + +<p> +“I said ‘pleasant people’, you know,” and Meg carefully +tied up her shoe as she spoke, so that no one saw her face. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d have nothing but horses, inkstands, and novels in +yours,” answered Meg petulantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t I though? I’d have a stable full of Arabian steeds, +rooms piled high 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine is to stay at home safe with Father and Mother, and help take care +of the family,” said Beth contentedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you wish for anything else?” asked Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Since I had my little piano, I am perfectly satisfied. I only wish we +may all keep well and be together, nothing else.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got the key to mine, but I’m not allowed to try it. +Hang college!” muttered Laurie with an impatient sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s mine!” and Amy waved her pencil. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got any,” said Meg forlornly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you have,” said Laurie at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“In your face.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, that’s of no use.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless me! How old I shall be, twenty-seven!” exclaimed Meg, who +felt grown up already, having just reached seventeen. +</p> + +<p> +“You and I will be twenty-six, Teddy, Beth twenty-four, and Amy +twenty-two. What a venerable party!” said Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need a motive, Mother says, and when you get it, she is sure +you’ll work splendidly.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone left to stay with the old gentleman, I’d do it +tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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’. +</p> + +<p> +“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 on you 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone, but is just as generous +and patient and good as he can be.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Begin to do something now by not plaguing his life out,” said Meg +sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know I do, Miss?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“May I come again?” asked Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you are good, and love your book, as the boys in the primer are +told to do,” said Meg, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN<br/> +SECRETS</h2> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“There, I’ve done my best! If this won’t suit I shall have to +wait till I can do better.” +</p> + +<p> +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 downstairs, leaving her friends to nibble on +her pens and taste her ink. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +If anyone 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 doorway, 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 maneuver 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 doorway, +saying with a smile and a shiver, “It’s like her to come alone, but +if she has a bad time she’ll need someone to help her home.” +</p> + +<p> +In ten minutes Jo came running downstairs 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very.” +</p> + +<p> +“You got through quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, thank goodness!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you go alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t want anyone to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re the oddest fellow I ever saw. How many did you have +out?” +</p> + +<p> +Jo looked at her friend as if she did not understand him, then began to laugh +as if mightily amused at something. +</p> + +<p> +“There are two which I want to have come out, but I must wait a +week.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you laughing at? You are up to some mischief, Jo,” said +Laurie, looking mystified. +</p> + +<p> +“So are you. What were you doing, sir, up in that billiard saloon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Begging your pardon, ma’am, it wasn’t a billiard saloon, but +a gymnasium, and I was taking a lesson in fencing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can teach me, and then when we play <i>Hamlet</i>, you can be +Laertes, and we’ll make a fine thing of the fencing scene.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie burst out with a hearty boy’s laugh, which made several passers-by +smile in spite of themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll teach you whether we play <i>Hamlet</i> 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I was glad that you were not in the saloon, because I hope you never +go to such places. Do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not often.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t a fellow take a little innocent amusement now and then +without losing his respectability?” asked Laurie, looking nettled. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t she?” asked Laurie anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No, she can’t bear fashionable young men, and she’d shut us +all up in bandboxes rather than have us associate with them.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be a double distilled saint.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I’m likely to do the same? Much obliged.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you worry about me, Jo?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little, when you look moody and 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 smiled as if at her +warnings. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to deliver lectures all the way home?” he asked +presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because if you are, I’ll take a bus. If you’re not, +I’d like to walk with you and tell you something very interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t preach any more, and I’d like to hear the news +immensely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then, come on. It’s a secret, and if I tell you, you +must tell me yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got any,” began Jo, but stopped suddenly, +remembering that she had. +</p> + +<p> +“You know you have—you can’t hide anything, so up and +’fess, or I won’t tell,” cried Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Is your secret a nice one?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll not say anything about it at home, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you won’t tease me in private?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never tease.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. Fire away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve left two stories with a newspaperman, and he’s to +give his answer next week,” whispered Jo, in her confidant’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +anyone else to be disappointed.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 shan’t we feel proud of our authoress?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” said Jo, looking disappointed, as Laurie nodded and +twinkled with a face full of mysterious intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite enough for the present, as you’ll agree when I +tell you where it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell, then.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Saw it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, isn’t that romantic?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s horrid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you like it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I don’t. It’s ridiculous, it won’t be +allowed. My patience! What would Meg say?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not to tell anyone. Mind that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was understood, and I trusted you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I won’t for the present, anyway, but I’m disgusted, +and wish you hadn’t told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you’d be pleased.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away? No, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll feel better about it when somebody comes to take you +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to see anyone try it,” cried Jo fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“So should I!” and Laurie chuckled at the idea. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think secrets agree with me, I feel rumpled up in my mind +since you told me that,” said Jo rather ungratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Race down this hill with me, and you’ll be all right,” +suggested Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +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 hairpins as she ran. Laurie reached the goal first and was +quite satisfied with the success of his treatment, for his Atlanta came panting +up with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction +in her face. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 someone did +pass, and who should it be but Meg, looking particularly ladylike in her state +and festival suit, for she had been making calls. +</p> + +<p> +“What in the world are you doing here?” she asked, regarding her +disheveled sister with well-bred surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Getting leaves,” meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she +had just swept up. +</p> + +<p> +“And hairpins,” added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo’s +lap. “They grow on this road, Meg, so do combs and brown straw +hats.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you envy her, Meg?” said Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of it!” muttered Jo, tying on her hat with a jerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Meg, looking surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never ‘<i>go</i> and marry’ anyone,” 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall we do with that girl? She never <i>will</i> behave like a +young lady,” sighed Meg, as she watched the race with a disapproving +face. +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone but her. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very trying, but we never can make her <i>commy la +fo</i>,” added Amy, who sat making some new frills for herself, with her +curls tied up in a very becoming way, two agreeable things that made her feel +unusually elegant and ladylike. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes Jo bounced in, laid herself on the sofa, and affected to read. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you anything interesting there?” asked Meg, with +condescension. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing but a story, won’t amount to much, I guess,” +returned Jo, carefully keeping the name of the paper out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better read it aloud. That will amuse us and keep you out of +mischief,” said Amy in her most grown-up tone. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the name?” asked Beth, wondering why Jo kept her face +behind the sheet. +</p> + +<p> +“The Rival Painters.” +</p> + +<p> +“That sounds well. Read it,” said Meg. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Who wrote it?” asked Beth, who had caught a glimpse of Jo’s +face. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You?” cried Meg, dropping her work. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very good,” said Amy critically. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it! I knew it! Oh, my Jo, I am so proud!” and Beth ran to +hug her sister and exult over this splendid success. +</p> + +<p> +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 criticized 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 sang 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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, anyone would pay. So I let him have the two stories, and today 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN<br/> +A TELEGRAM</h2> + +<p> +“November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year,” said +Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the +frostbitten garden. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the reason I was born in it,” observed Jo pensively, +quite unconscious of the blot on her nose. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone who has +slighted you, go abroad, and come home my Lady Something in a blaze of splendor +and elegance.” +</p> + +<p> +“People don’t have fortunes left them in that style nowadays, men +have to work and women marry for money. It’s a dreadfully unjust +world,” said Meg bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t wait, and I’m afraid I haven’t much faith in ink +and dirt, though I’m grateful for your good intentions.” +</p> + +<p> +Meg sighed, and turned to the frostbitten 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much obliged, but I’m busy.” And Meg whisked out her +workbasket, for she had agreed with her mother that it was best, for her at +least, not to drive too often with the young gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“We three will be ready in a minute,” cried Amy, running away to +wash her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +A sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after Hannah came in with a letter. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s one of them horrid telegraph things, mum,” she said, +handling it as if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage. +</p> + +<p> +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 downstairs for water, while Meg +and Hannah supported her, and Jo read aloud, in a frightened voice... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Mrs. March:<br/> +Your husband is very ill. Come at once.<br/> +S. HALE<br/> +Blank Hospital, Washington. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. Oh, children, children, help me to bear +it!” +</p> + +<p> +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 panacea for most afflictions. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s right, there’s no time for tears now. Be calm, girls, +and let me think.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Laurie?” she asked presently, when she had collected +her thoughts and decided on the first duties to be done. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Send a telegram saying I will come at once. The next train goes early in +the morning. I’ll take that.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else? The horses are ready. I can go anywhere, do anything,” +he said, looking ready to fly to the ends of the earth. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave a note at Aunt March’s. Jo, give me that pen and +paper.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now go, dear, but don’t kill yourself driving at a desperate pace. +There is no need of that.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 the 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 traveling. +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 take. +</p> + +<p> +“How kind you all are! Mother will accept, I’m sure, and it will be +such a relief to know that she has someone to take care of her. Thank you very, +very much!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 the 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. +</p> + +<p> +The short afternoon wore away. All other errands were done, and Meg and her +mother busy at some necessary needlework, 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 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 toward making Father comfortable and bringing him home!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, where did you get it? Twenty-five dollars! Jo, I hope you +haven’t done anything rash?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her +abundant hair was cut short. +</p> + +<p> +“Your hair! Your beautiful hair!” “Oh, 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!” +</p> + +<p> +As everyone exclaimed, and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, Jo assumed an +indifferent air, which did not deceive anyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t!” returned Jo stoutly, feeling much relieved +that her prank was not entirely condemned. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you do it?” asked Amy, who would as soon have thought of +cutting off her head as her pretty hair. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 to 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see how you dared to do it,” said Beth in a tone of +awe. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was Jimmy?” asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as +they went along. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?” asked +Meg, with a shiver. +</p> + +<p> +“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 of my head. It almost seemed as if I’d an arm or 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 tomorrow, +and the happy times they would have when Father came home to be nursed. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Jo, dear, what is it? Are you crying about father?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not now.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then?” +</p> + +<p> +“My... My hair!” burst out poor Jo, trying vainly to smother her +emotion in the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +It did not seem at all comical to Meg, who kissed and caressed the afflicted +heroine in the tenderest manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sorry,” protested Jo, with a choke. “I’d +do it again tomorrow, if I could. It’s only the vain part of me that goes +and cries in this silly way. Don’t tell anyone, 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t sleep, I’m so anxious,” said Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“Think about something pleasant, and you’ll soon drop off.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you think of?” +</p> + +<p> +“Handsome faces—eyes particularly,” answered Meg, smiling to +herself in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +“What color do you like best?” +</p> + +<p> +“Brown, that is, sometimes. Blue are lovely.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The clocks were striking midnight and the rooms were very still as a figure +glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlet 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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN<br/> +LETTERS</h2> + +<p> +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 goodbye 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 nightcap 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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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 be idle and 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will, Mother! We will!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 bodyguard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful +Hannah, and devoted Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“How kind everyone is to us!” she said, turning to find fresh proof +of it in the respectful sympathy of the young man’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +journey began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful words. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems as if half the house was gone,” added Meg forlornly. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 coffeepot. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“‘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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No need of that. Beth and I can keep house perfectly well,” put in +Amy, with an important air. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I think anxiety is very interesting,” observed Amy, eating sugar +pensively. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of the turnovers 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 rosyfaced mandarin. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so like my Beth!” said Jo, waving her hat, with a +grateful face. “Goodbye, Meggy, I hope the Kings won’t strain +today. Don’t fret about Father, dear,” she added, as they parted. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my only comfort.” And, touching her hat a la Laurie, +away went Jo, feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day. +</p> + +<p> +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 dispatches, which grew more cheerful as the week +passed. At first, everyone 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +My dearest Mother: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 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 buttonholes 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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +MEG +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +My precious Marmee: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 everyone is so desperately good, it’s like +living in a nest of turtledoves. 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 my +lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +TOPSY-TURVY JO +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A SONG FROM THE SUDS +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,<br/> +While the white foam rises high,<br/> +And sturdily wash and rinse and wring,<br/> +And fasten the clothes to dry.<br/> +Then out in the free fresh air they swing,<br/> +Under the sunny sky. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls<br/> +The stains of the week away,<br/> +And let water and air by their magic make<br/> +Ourselves as pure as they.<br/> +Then on the earth there would be indeed,<br/> +A glorious washing day! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Along the path of a useful life,<br/> +Will heart’s-ease ever bloom.<br/> +The busy mind has no time to think<br/> +Of sorrow or care or gloom.<br/> +And anxious thoughts may be swept away,<br/> +As we bravely wield a broom. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I am glad a task to me is given,<br/> +To labor at day by day,<br/> +For it brings me health and strength and hope,<br/> +And I cheerfully learn to say,<br/> +“Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel,<br/> +But, Hand, you shall work alway!” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Mother, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Kiss dear Father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your loving... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +LITTLE BETH +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Ma Chere Mamma, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +AMY CURTIS MARCH +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Mis March, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 without 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 the girls, 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Yours respectful, <br/> +Hannah Mullet +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Head Nurse of Ward No. 2, <br/> +<br/> +All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition, commisary department +well conducted, the Home Guard under Colonel Teddy always on duty, Commander in +Chief General Laurence reviews the army daily, Quartermaster Mullet 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 headquarters. Commander in chief sends best wishes, in which he is +heartily joined by... <br/> +<br/> +COLONEL TEDDY +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Madam: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Your sincere friend and servant, JAMES LAURENCE +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN<br/> +LITTLE FAITHFUL</h2> + +<p> +For a week the amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied the +neighborhood. It was really amazing, for everyone 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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 dispatches over and over. Beth +kept on, with only slight relapses into idleness or grieving. +</p> + +<p> +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 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 everyone felt how sweet and helpful Beth was, and fell into a way of going +to her for comfort or advice in their small affairs. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m too tired to go this afternoon,” replied Meg, rocking +comfortably as she sewed. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you, Jo?” asked Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“Too stormy for me with my cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it was almost well.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you go yourself?” asked Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go tomorrow. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“My head aches and I’m tired, so I thought maybe some of you would +go,” said Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“Amy will be in presently, and she will run down for us,” suggested +Meg. +</p> + +<p> +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 little Beth sitting on the +medicine chest, looking very grave, with red eyes and a camphor bottle in her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Christopher Columbus! What’s the matter?” cried Jo, as Beth +put out her hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly. . . +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had the scarlet fever, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Years ago, when Meg did. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby’s dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“What baby?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Hummel’s. It died in my lap before she got home,” cried +Beth with a sob. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t dreadful, Jo, only so sad! I saw in a minute 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 if 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t cry, dear! What did you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you won’t!” cried Jo, hugging her close, with a +frightened look. “Oh, Beth, if you should be sick I never could forgive +myself! What shall we do?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +The good soul was wide awake in a minute, and took the lead at once, assuring +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall stay, of course, I’m oldest,” began Meg, looking +anxious and self-reproachful. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Which will you have, Beth? There ain’t no need of but one,” +aid Hannah. +</p> + +<p> +“Jo, please.” And Beth leaned her head against her sister with a +contented look, which effectually settled that point. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wish to be sent off as if I was in the way,” began +Amy, in an injured voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless your heart, child, it’s to keep you well. You don’t +want to be sick, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m sure I don’t, but I dare say I shall be, for +I’ve been with Beth all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s dull at Aunt March’s, and she is so cross,” +said Amy, looking rather frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you take me out in the trotting wagon with Puck?” +</p> + +<p> +“On my honor as a gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“And come every single day?” +</p> + +<p> +“See if I don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +“And bring me back the minute Beth is well?” +</p> + +<p> +“The identical minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“And go to the theater, truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“A dozen theaters, if we may.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—I guess I will,” said Amy slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“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’. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What a trying world it is!” said Jo, rumpling up her hair in a +fretful 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum, well, I can’t say. Suppose you ask Grandfather after the +doctor has been.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will. Jo, go and get Dr. Bangs at once,” commanded Meg. +“We can’t decide anything till he has been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay where you are, Jo. I’m errand boy to this +establishment,” said Laurie, taking up his cap. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you are busy,” began Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ve done my lessons for the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you study in vacation time?” asked Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“I follow the good example my neighbors set me,” was Laurie’s +answer, as he swung himself out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“I have great hopes for my boy,” observed Jo, watching him fly over +the fence with an approving smile. +</p> + +<p> +“He does very well, for a boy,” was Meg’s somewhat ungracious +answer, for the subject did not interest her. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Bangs came, said Beth had symptoms of the fever, but he 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. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt March received them with her usual hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want now?” she asked, looking sharply over her +spectacles, while the parrot, sitting on the back of her chair, called out... +</p> + +<p> +“Go away. No boys allowed here.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie retired to the window, and Jo told her story. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you hear from your mother?” asked the old lady gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“Father is much better,” replied Jo, trying to keep sober. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is he? Well, that won’t last long, I fancy. March never had +any stamina,” was the cheerful reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha! Never say die, take a pinch of snuff, goodbye, goodbye!” +squalled Polly, dancing on her perch, and clawing at the old lady’s cap +as Laurie tweaked him in the rear. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +rattlepated boy like...” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird!” cried Polly, +tumbling off the chair with a bounce, and running to peck the +‘rattlepated’ boy, who was shaking with laughter at the last +speech. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I can bear it, but I’ll try,” thought +Amy, as she was 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> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<br/> +DARK DAYS</h2> + +<p> +Beth did have the fever, and was much sicker than anyone 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 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.’ +</p> + +<p> +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 around 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 that 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. +Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile she lay on her bed with old Joanna at her side, for even in her +wanderings she did not forget her forlorn protege. 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +for a minute, and laid it gently down, saying, in a low voice to Hannah, +“If Mrs. March can leave her husband she’d better be sent +for.” +</p> + +<p> +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, 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve sent for Mother,” said Jo, tugging at her rubber boots +with a tragic expression. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No. The doctor told us to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jo, it’s not so bad as that?” cried Laurie, with a +startled face. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Teddy, I’m better now. I don’t feel so forlorn, +and will try to bear it if it comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Keep hoping for the best, that will help you, Jo. Soon your mother will +be here, and then everything will be all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t Meg pull fair?” asked Laurie, looking indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll send my bill, by-and-by, and tonight 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” cried Jo, forgetting her woes for a minute in her +wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“I telegraphed to your mother yesterday, and Brooke answered she’d +come at once, and she’ll be here tonight, and everything will be all +right. Aren’t you glad I did it?” +</p> + +<p> +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, “Oh, Laurie! Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Laurie, you’re an angel! How shall I ever thank you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fly at me again. I rather liked it,” said Laurie, looking +mischievous, a thing he had not done for a fortnight. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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 a rather neat thing of it. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the interferingest chap I ever see, but I forgive him and +do hope Mrs. March is coming right away,” said Hannah, with an air of +relief, when Jo told the good news. +</p> + +<p> +Meg had a quiet rapture, and then brooded over the letter, while Jo set the +sickroom 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 of 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“If God spares Beth, I never will complain again,” whispered Meg +earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“If God spares Beth, I’ll try to love and serve Him all my +life,” answered Jo, with equal fervor. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had no heart, it aches so,” sighed Meg, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“If life is often as hard as this, I don’t see how we ever shall +get through it,” added her sister despondently. +</p> + +<p> +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 girls. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +As if awaked 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!” +</p> + +<p> +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...” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“If Mother would only come now!” said Jo, as the winter night began +to wane. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” said Meg, coming up with a white, half-opened rose, “I +thought this would hardly be ready to lay in Beth’s hand tomorrow 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like a fairy world,” said Meg, smiling to herself, as she +stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark!” cried Jo, starting to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN<br/> +AMY’S WILL</h2> + +<p> +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 +it 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 by +the 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 had to 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? +</p> + +<p> +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 teatime. 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 an +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 was deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took +any notice of the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +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 +pigeonholes, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?” asked +Esther, who always sat near to watch over and lock up the valuables. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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, eyeing +the handsome thing wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it meant to use as you use the string of good-smelling wooden beads +hanging over your glass?” asked Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 preserve your sister.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How nice! But I wish she’d let us have them now. Procrastination +is not agreeable,” observed Amy, taking a last look at the diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 her tender thoughts of +her own were busy at her heart. On the table she laid her little testament and +hymnbook, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 curtsies, 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!” +</p> + +<p> +Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment, lest it should +offend her majesty, Laurie tapped and was graciously received. +</p> + +<p> +“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 a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did the spider accept the old fellow’s invitation?” asked +Laurie, yawning. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a lie! Oh, lor!” cried the parrot, pecking at +Laurie’s toes. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I’m ready,” said Amy, shutting the wardrobe and taking a +piece of paper out of her pocket. “I want you to read that, please, and +tell me if it is legal and right. I felt I ought to do it, for life is +uncertain and I don’t want any ill feeling over my tomb.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker, read the +following document, with praiseworthy gravity, considering the spelling: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +MY LAST WILL AND TESTIMENT +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, go give and bequeethe all my +earthly property—viz. to wit:—namely +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art, including +frames. Also my $100, to do what he likes with. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To my mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with pockets—also my +likeness, and my medal, with much love. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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’. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To Jo I leave my breastpin, 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 burned up her story. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeethe my paper mashay +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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, especially Beth. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +I wish my favorite playmate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron and my +gold-bead ring with a kiss. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patchwork I leave hoping +she ‘will remember me, when it you see’. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all will be +satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive everyone, and trust we may all meet +when the trump shall sound. Amen. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To this will and testiment I set my hand and seal on this 20th day of Nov. Anni +Domino 1861. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Amy Curtis March +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Witnesses: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Estelle Valnor, Theodore Laurence. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“What put it into your head? Did anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +She explained and then asked anxiously, “What about Beth?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ‘codicils’, they call them.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY<br/> +CONFIDENTIAL</h2> + +<p> +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 in 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. +</p> + +<p> +Hannah had ‘dished up’ an astonishing breakfast for the traveler, +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 a 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. +</p> + +<p> +After a while, they began to think he was not going to wake up 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 today. 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean Aunt March?” asked her mother, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone loves her and feels so bad at the thoughts of +losing her. People wouldn’t feel 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 we try this way?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +That evening while Meg was writing to her father to report the traveler’s +safe arrival, Jo slipped upstairs 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, deary?” asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand, with a +face which invited confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to tell you something, Mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“About Meg?” +</p> + +<p> +“How quickly you guessed! Yes, it’s about her, and though +it’s a little thing, it fidgets me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beth is asleep. Speak low, and tell me all about it. That Moffat +hasn’t been here, I hope?” asked Mrs. March rather sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“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 about it, till Teddy told me that 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 dreadful state of things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think Meg cares for him?” asked Mrs. March, with an anxious +look. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” cried Jo, staring. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Brooke. I call him ‘John’ now. We fell into the way of +doing so at the hospital, and he likes it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll see 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 anyone looks sentimentlly 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 cozy 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hadn’t you rather have her marry a rich man?” asked Jo, as +her mother’s voice faltered a little over the last words. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“He is younger than she, you know,” began Mrs. March, but Jo broke +in... +</p> + +<p> +“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 spoiled.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid Laurie is hardly grown-up enough for Meg, and +altogether too much of a weathercock just now for anyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I won’t, but I hate to see things going all crisscross and +getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out. +I wish wearing flatirons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds +will be roses, and kittens cats, more’s the pity!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that about flatirons and cats?” asked Meg, as she +crept into the room with the finished letter in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Only one of my stupid speeches. I’m going to bed. Come, +Peggy,” said Jo, unfolding herself like an animated puzzle. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you call him ‘John’?” asked Meg, smiling, with her +innocent eyes looking down into her mother’s. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 answer. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE<br/> +LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE</h2> + +<p> +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 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 the secret from her. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing but wait. Let her alone, be kind and patient, and Father’s +coming will settle everything,” replied her mother. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“My child, what is it?” cried her mother, running to her, while Jo +tried to take the paper which had done the mischief. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all a mistake, he didn’t send it. Oh, Jo, how could you +do it?” and Meg hid her face in her hands, crying as if her heart were +quite broken. +</p> + +<p> +“Me! I’ve done nothing! What’s she talking about?” +cried Jo, bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +Jo hardly heard her, for she and her mother were reading the note, which was +written in a peculiar hand. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“My Dearest Margaret, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Your devoted John.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, Jo, you must clear yourself first. You have played so many pranks +that I am afraid you have had a hand in this.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like his writing,” faltered Meg, comparing it with the +note in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Meg, you didn’t answer it?” cried Mrs. March quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did!” and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! Let me handle 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say to him?” asked Mrs. March. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +liberties with our names. It’s very kind and respectful, but think how +dreadful for me!” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t have any secrets, Jo. Tell it to Mother and keep out of +trouble, as I should have done,” said Meg warningly. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless you, child! Mother told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +Seeing 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll never tell him to my dying day, wild horses shan’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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 and imploring gesture, as he spoke in his +irresistibly persuasive tone, that it was impossible to frown upon him in spite +of his scandalous behavior. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Mr. Laurence in?” asked Jo, of a housemaid, who was coming +downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Miss, but I don’t believe he’s seeable just yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? Is he ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Laurie?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go and see what the matter is. I’m not afraid of either +of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Up went Jo, and knocked smartly on the door of Laurie’s little study. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop that, or I’ll open the door and make you!” called out +the young gentleman in a threatening tone. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right. Get up, and don’t be a goose, Jo,” was +the cavalier reply to her petition. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, I will. Could I ask what’s the matter? You don’t +look exactly easy in your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been shaken, and I won’t bear it!” growled Laurie +indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who did it?” demanded Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“Grandfather. If it had been anyone else I’d have...” And the +injured youth finished his sentence by an energetic gesture of the right arm. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing. I often shake you, and you don’t +mind,” said Jo soothingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh! You’re a girl, and it’s fun, but I’ll allow no +man to shake me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think anyone would care to try it, if you looked as much +like a thundercloud as you do now. Why were you treated so?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t you satisfy your grandpa in any other way?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 bolted, for fear I should forget myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t nice, but he’s sorry, I know, so go down and make +up. I’ll help you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hanged if I do! I’m not going to be lectured and pummelled by +everyone, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone’s apron string to hold on by.” +</p> + +<p> +“What pepper pots you are!” sighed Jo. “How do you mean to +settle this affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he ought to beg pardon, and believe me when I say I can’t +tell him what the fuss’s about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless you! He won’t do that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t go down till he does.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t intend to stay here long, anyway. I’ll slip off and +take a journey somewhere, and when Grandpa misses me he’ll come round +fast enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say, but you ought not to go and worry him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t preach. I’ll go to Washington and see Brooke. +It’s gay there, and I’ll enjoy myself after the troubles.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 no harm, as you go to +your father.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the fun of it,” began Laurie, who had got a willful +fit on him and was possessed to break out of bounds in some way. +</p> + +<p> +“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 things that make me skip to +think of.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know Meg would wet-blanket such a proposal, but I thought you had more +spirit,” began Laurie insinuatingly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but you won’t do it,” answered Laurie, who wished to +make up, but felt that his outraged dignity must be appeased first. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” and Mr. Laurence’s gruff voice sounded gruffer +than ever, as Jo tapped at his door. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only me, Sir, come to return a book,” she said blandly, +as she entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Want any more?” asked the old gentleman, looking grim and vexed, +but trying not to show it. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He did wrong, but we forgave him, and all promised not to say a word to +anyone,” began Jo reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +“That won’t do. He shall not shelter himself behind a promise from +you softhearted 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 someone 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 <i>Rambler</i> or something +pleasant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang the <i>Rambler!</i> 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You think I’m not kind to him, hey?” was the sharp answer. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 onto 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 know how it will end, if we go on +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 forebearing with the lad. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently taking +the whole as a joke. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo tried to look pathetic but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began to +laugh, and she knew the day was won. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 keyhole 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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he was pretty mild, on the whole.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk that way, turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, +my son.” +</p> + +<p> +“I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my +copybooks, and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end,” he +said dolefully. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO<br/> +PLEASANT MEADOWS</h2> + +<p> +Like sunshine after a 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 behind-hand. Her once active limbs were so stiff +and feeble that Jo took her for a daily airing about the house in her strong +arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burned 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. +</p> + +<p> +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, skyrockets, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 high 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 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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +God bless you, dear Queen Bess!<br/> +May nothing you dismay,<br/> +But health and peace and happiness<br/> +Be yours, this Christmas day. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Here’s fruit to feed our busy bee,<br/> +And flowers for her nose.<br/> +Here’s music for her pianee,<br/> +An afghan for her toes, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A portrait of Joanna, see,<br/> +By Raphael No. 2,<br/> +Who laboured with great industry<br/> +To make it fair and true. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Accept a ribbon red, I beg,<br/> +For Madam Purrer’s tail,<br/> +And ice cream made by lovely Peg,<br/> +A Mont Blanc in a pail. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Their dearest love my makers laid<br/> +Within my breast of snow.<br/> +Accept it, and the Alpine maid,<br/> +From Laurie and from Jo. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the +long-desired <i>Undine and Sintram</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful +storybook fashion, and what a comfort it is. Half an hour after everyone 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 everyone jumped up, though he only said, in a queer, breathless voice, +“Here’s another Christmas present for the March family.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 like to 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!” +</p> + +<p> +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 melted in one’s mouth, likewise +the jellies, in which Amy reveled like a fly in a honeypot. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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, sang 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather a pleasant year on the whole!” said Meg, smiling at the +fire, and congratulating herself on having treated Mr. Brooke with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s been a pretty hard one,” observed Amy, watching +the light shine on her ring with thoughtful eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad it’s over, because we’ve got you back,” +whispered Beth, who sat on her father’s knee. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know? Did Mother tell you?” asked Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“Not much. Straws show which way the wind blows, and I’ve made +several discoveries today.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, tell us what they are!” cried Meg, who sat beside him. +</p> + +<p> +“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 this seeming blemishes I read a +little history. A burnt offering has been made to 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite, with an +unusually mild expression in her face. +</p> + +<p> +“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, tenderhearted 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 my good girl sent me.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Beth,” said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for her +mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place tonight, 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 mold her character as carefully as she +molds 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you thinking of, Beth?” asked Jo, when Amy had thanked +her father and told about her ring. +</p> + +<p> +“I read in <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i> today how, after many +troubles, Christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow where lilies +bloomed all 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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and in the +sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sang to her own accompaniment +the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for her. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +He that is down need fear no fall,<br/> +He that is low no pride.<br/> +He that is humble ever shall<br/> +Have God to be his guide. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I am content with what I have,<br/> +Little be it, or much.<br/> +And, Lord! Contentment still I crave,<br/> +Because Thou savest such. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Fulness to them a burden is,<br/> +That go on pilgrimage.<br/> +Here little, and hereafter bliss,<br/> +Is best from age to age! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE<br/> +AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION</h2> + +<p> +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, “Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +Laurie went by in the afternoon, and seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly +possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down on 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What does the goose mean?” said Meg, laughing and trying to look +unconscious. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s showing you how your John will go on by-and-by. Touching, +isn’t it?” answered Jo scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t, for something has been said, and Laurie’s mischief +has spoiled 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you mind telling me what you’d say?” asked Jo more +respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I think not, if you liked anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man,” said +Jo, rudely shortening her sister’s little reverie. +</p> + +<p> +“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.’” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t. I shall tell him I’ve made up my mind, and +shall walk out of the room with dignity.” +</p> + +<p> +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 fast as if +her life depended on finishing that particular seam in a given time. Jo +smothered a laugh at the sudden change, and when someone gave a modest tap, +opened the door with a grim aspect which was anything but hospitable. +</p> + +<p> +“Good afternoon. I came to get my umbrella, that is, to see how your +father finds himself today,” said Mr. Brooke, getting a trifle confused +as his eyes went from one telltale face to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“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 toward the door, murmuring... +</p> + +<p> +“Mother will like to see you. Pray sit down, I’ll call her.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“How can I be afraid when you have been so kind to Father? I only wish I +could thank you for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, please don’t, I’d rather not,” she said, trying +to withdraw her hand, and looking frightened in spite of her denial. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m too young,” faltered Meg, wondering why she was so +fluttered, yet rather enjoying it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll wait, and in the meantime, you could be learning to like me. +Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not if I chose to learn it, but. . .” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really mean that?” he asked anxiously, following her as she +walked away. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 herself. What would have happened next I +cannot say, if Aunt March had not come hobbling in at this interesting minute. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Father’s friend. I’m so surprised to see +you!” stammered Meg, feeling that she was in for a lecture now. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“We were only talking. Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella,” began +Meg, wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safely out of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! He’ll hear. Shan’t I call Mother?” said Meg, +much troubled. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 preemptorily 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall marry whom I please, Aunt March, and you can leave your money to +anyone you like,” she said, nodding her head with a resolute air. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be a worse one than some people find in big +houses,” retorted Meg. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father and Mother don’t think so. They like John though he is +poor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than a pair of +babies.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of it,” cried Meg stoutly. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture. “This Rook is +poor and hasn’t got any rich relations, has he?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but he has many warm friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t live on friends, try it and see how cool they’ll +grow. He hasn’t any business, has he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet. Mr. Laurence is going to help him.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +“He knows you have got rich relations, child. That’s the secret of +his liking, I suspect.” +</p> + +<p> +“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, any more 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...” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a willful 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. +Brooke’s friends must take care of you. I’m done with you +forever.” +</p> + +<p> +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 for 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know how much till she abused you,” began Meg. +</p> + +<p> +“And I needn’t go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, +dear?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Fifteen minutes after Aunt March’s departure, Jo came softly downstairs, +paused an instant at the parlor door, and hearing no sound within, nodded and +smiled with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, “She has seen him +away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I’ll go and hear the fun, +and have a good laugh over it.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +strongminded 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 newcomer, +“Sister Jo, congratulate us!” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up +amazingly when the first romance of the family began there. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, +Meg?” said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in a +sketch she was planning to make. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 a one, but it +ends well, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t it seem very long to wait?” asked Amy, who was in a +hurry for the wedding. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 some sensible +conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +But Jo was mistaken, for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with good +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t give her up. You only go halves,” said Laurie +consolingly. +</p> + +<p> +“It can never be the same again. I’ve lost my dearest +friend,” sighed Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 on some nice trip or other. Wouldn’t that console you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I rather think it would, but there’s no knowing what may happen in +three years,” said Jo thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I think not, for I might see something sad, and everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +Father and Mother sat together, quietly reliving 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. +</p> + +<p> +So the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it ever rises again, +depends upon the reception given the first act of the domestic drama called +<i>Little Women</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="part02"></a>PART 2</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +In order that we may start afresh and go to Meg’s wedding... +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR<br/> +GOSSIP</h2> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 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’. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 bookkeeper, +feeling better satisfied to begin with an honestly earned salary than by +running any risks with borrowed money. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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, and busy with the quiet duties she loved, +everyone’s friend, and an angel in the house, long before those who loved +her most had learned to know it. +</p> + +<p> +As long as <i>The Spread Eagle</i> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 spoiled, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 own 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 ‘Dovecote’. +</p> + +<p> +That was the name of the little brown house 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 +turtledoves, 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 the +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 slopbowl, 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 coalbin. 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 cozy 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 a 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 clothespins, next, a +wonderful nutmeg grater which fell to pieces at the first trial, a knife +cleaner that spoiled 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 tinware, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and so happy that I +can’t talk about it,” with a look that was far better than words. +</p> + +<p> +“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 mantlepiece. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Sallie Moffat has four,” began Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +fancywork and tending my pocket handkerchief.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 house keeping. “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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +tablecloths, with a truly feminine appreciation of their fineness. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t a single finger bowl, but this is a setout that will +last me all my days, Hannah says.” And Meg looked quite contented, as +well she might. +</p> + +<p> +A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, a felt basin of a +hat, and a flyaway 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am, Mother! Yes, it’s all right.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone began to +talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is John?” asked Meg anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Stopped to get the license for tomorrow, ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which side won the last match, Teddy?” inquired Jo, who persisted +in feeling an interest in manly sports despite her nineteen years. +</p> + +<p> +“Ours, of course. Wish you’d been there to see.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is the lovely Miss Randal?” asked Amy with a significant +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the last joke? Undo the bundle and see, Meg,” said +Beth, eying the knobby parcel with curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie,” said Meg in a matronly +tone. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in this spick-and-span +bower, so as I’m tremendously hungry, I propose an adjournment,” he +added presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to +settle,” said Meg, bustling away. +</p> + +<p> +“Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant’s to get more flowers +for tomorrow,” added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesque +curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody. +</p> + +<p> +“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 her arm +to support his feeble steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow,” began +Jo, as they strolled away together. “You must promise to behave well, and +not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a prank.” +</p> + +<p> +“And don’t say funny things when we ought to be sober.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never do. You are the one for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony. I shall +certainly laugh if you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t see me, you’ll be crying so hard that the thick +fog round you will obscure the prospect.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never cry unless for some great affliction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such as fellows going to college, hey?” cut in Laurie, with +suggestive laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls +company.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. I say, Jo, how is Grandpa this week? Pretty amiable?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very. Why, have you got into a scrape and want to know how he’ll +take it?” asked Jo rather sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then don’t go and be suspicious. I only want some money,” +said Laurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone. +</p> + +<p> +“You spend a great deal, Teddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless you, I don’t spend it, it spends itself somehow, and is gone +before I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow, and +can’t say ‘No’ to anyone. 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he made a mountain out of a molehill. You wouldn’t have me let +that fine fellow work himself to death just for want of a little help, when he +is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that the +felt hat 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tomorrow and be a satisfaction to my +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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-inch-long stubble. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t give anyone a chance,” said Laurie, with a +sidelong glance and a little more color than before in his sunburned 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE<br/> +THE FIRST WEDDING</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 a fashionable wedding, but +only those about me whom I love, and to them I wish to look and be my familiar +self.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am satisfied. But please hug and kiss me, everyone, and +don’t mind my dress. I want a great many crumples of this sort put into +it today,” 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 today. +</p> + +<p> +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’. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not a show, Aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to +criticize my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I’m too happy to +care what anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“He has promised to be very good today, and he can be perfectly elegant +if he likes,” returned Amy, and 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. +</p> + +<p> +There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room as Mr. +March and the young couple 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone availed themselves of their +privileges to the fullest extent, from Mr. Laurence to old Hannah, who, adorned +with a headdress 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 to only sorts of nectar which the +three Hebes carried round. No one said anything, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your grandfather kindly offered us his best, and Aunt March actually +sent some, but Father put away a little for Beth, and dispatched the rest to +the Soldier’s 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not made wise by experience, I hope?” and there was an +anxious accent in Meg’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 today.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie certainly could not, and with an answering smile, he gave her his hand, +saying heartily, “I promise, Mrs. Brooke!” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, very, very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +So the toast was drunk, the pledge made and loyally kept in spite of many +temptations, for with instinctive wisdom, the girls seized a happy moment to do +their friend a service, for which he thanked them all his life. +</p> + +<p> +After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through the 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone 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 chasseed 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. +</p> + +<p> +Want of breath brought the impromptu ball to a close, and then people began to +go. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +buttonhole. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX<br/> +ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS</h2> + +<p> +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 over-strained eyes +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 +underside 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 kindling for some time. +</p> + +<p> +From fire to oil was a natural transition for burned fingers, and Amy fell to +painting with undiminished ardor. An artist friend fitted her out with his +castoff 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 seasickness 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 dropiscal 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 +bouy, a sailor’s shirt or a king’s robe, as the spectator pleased. +</p> + +<p> +Charcoal portraits came next, and the entire family hung in a row, looking as +wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coalbin. 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 onto 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 featherbeds 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. +</p> + +<p> +If ‘genius is eternal patience’, as Michelangelo affirms, Amy 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’. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to ask a favor of you, Mamma,” Amy said, coming in with an +important air one day. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, little girl, what is it?” replied her mother, in whose eyes +the stately young lady still remained ‘the baby’. +</p> + +<p> +“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 I know I am poor, yet they never made any difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should they?” and Mrs. March put the question with what the +girls called her ‘Maria Theresa air’. +</p> + +<p> +“You know as well as I that it does make a difference with nearly +everyone, 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. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. March laughed, and smoothed down her maternal pride as she asked, +“Well, my swan, what is your plan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to take them for +a drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river, perhaps, and make a +little artistic fete for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake, sandwiches, +fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many young ladies are there?” asked her mother, beginning to +look sober. +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won’t all +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless me, child, you will have to charter an omnibus to carry them +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“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-a-banc.) +</p> + +<p> +“All of this will be expensive, Amy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very. I’ve calculated the cost, and I’ll pay for it +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Mother, you are always so kind.” and away went Amy to lay +her plan before her sisters. +</p> + +<p> +Meg agreed at once, and promised her aid, gladly offering anything she +possessed, from her little house itself to her very best saltspoons. But Jo +frowned upon the whole project and would have nothing to do with it at first. +</p> + +<p> +“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 coupe,” +said Jo, who, being called from the tragic climax of her novel, was not in the +best mood for social enterprises. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +When Amy had 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’. +</p> + +<p> +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 salty, 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 a 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 anyone 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 skillfully made the best of what she had, arranging chairs over the worn +places in the carpet, covering stains on the walls with homemade statuary, +which gave an artistic air to the room, as did the lovely vases of flowers Jo +scattered about. +</p> + +<p> +The lunch looked charming, 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, and 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. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the 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. +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt about the weather today, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t get any lobsters, so you will have to do without salad +today,” said Mr. March, coming in half an hour later, with an expression +of placid despair. +</p> + +<p> +“Use the chicken then, the toughness won’t matter in a +salad,” advised his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must have a lobster, for tongue alone won’t do,” said +Amy decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I rush into town and demand one?” asked Jo, with the +magnanimity of a martyr. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Shrouded in a thick veil and armed with a genteel traveling 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 newcomer, 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 traveling dress, returned the young man’s greeting with her +usual suavity and spirit. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t—it’s—it’s mine,” +murmured Amy, with a face nearly as red as her fish. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 going to make, and to see the charming young ladies who are to eat +it?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose he’ll laugh and joke over it with Laurie, but I +shan’t see them, that’s a comfort,” thought Amy, as Tudor +bowed and departed. +</p> + +<p> +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 today, so +she ordered the ‘cherry bounce’, and drove away in state to meet +and escort her guests to the banquet. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s the rumble, they’re coming! I’ll go onto the +porch and 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 control entirely the merriment which possessed them. The +remodeled lunch being gaily 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’. +</p> + +<p> +As she came walking in, looking very tired but as composed as ever, she +observed that every vestige of the unfortunate fete had disappeared, except a +suspicious pucker about the corners of Jo’s mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had a loverly afternoon for your drive, dear,” said +her mother, as respectfully as if the whole twelve had come. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Eliott is a very sweet girl, and seemed to enjoy herself, I +thought,” observed Beth, with unusual warmth. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it all. I’m the only one here who likes sweet things, and it +will mold 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 salads’, to the +great surprise of the learned gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +No one did for several months, but the word ‘fete’ 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN<br/> +LITERARY LESSONS</h2> + +<p> +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 then did the little sum that came to her in this wise. +</p> + +<p> +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 woolen +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 gaily erect +upon the gifted brow, did anyone dare address Jo. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Women’s Rights and making tatting. Beyond sat a pair of humble +lovers, artlessly holding each other by the hand, a somber 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. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pictorial sheet, and Jo examined the work of art nearest her, idly +wondering what fortuitous 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 +disheveled 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 personae, leaving the +other half to exult over their downfall. +</p> + +<p> +“Prime, isn’t it?” asked the boy, as her eye went down the +last paragraph of her portion. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you and I could do as well as that if we tried,” returned +Jo, amused at his admiration of the trash. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know her?” asked Jo, with sudden interest. +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I read all her pieces, and I know a fellow who works in the +office where this paper is printed.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Guess she does! She knows just what folks like, and gets paid well for +writing it.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the lecture began, but Jo heard very little of it, for while Professor +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 on 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 <i>The Spread Eagle</i>. Her 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 denouement. The +manuscript was privately dispatched, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone 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... +</p> + +<p> +“You can do better than this, Jo. Aim at the highest, and never mind the +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Send Beth and Mother to the seaside for a month or two,” answered +Jo promptly. +</p> + +<p> +To the seaside 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I must either bundle it back in to my tin kitchen to mold, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 practiced what 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. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me that Jo will profit more by taking 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t leave a word out 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 forboding fear, and decided her to +make her little venture ‘soon’. +</p> + +<p> +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 +everyone, she took everyone’s advice, and like the old man and his donkey +in the fable suited nobody. +</p> + +<p> +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 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 spritly scenes which relieved the +somber character of the story. Then, to complicate 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 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 +overpraise, 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 the +whole or not at all, for I do hate to be so misjudged.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT<br/> +DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES</h2> + +<p> +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 see if his work would +stand impatient and clumsy fingers any better than hers. +</p> + +<p> +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 some 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 dispatched 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. +</p> + +<p> +Fired with a housewifely wish to see her storeroom stocked with homemade +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 left undone, she reboiled, resugared, and +restrained, but that dreadful stuff wouldn’t ‘jell’. +</p> + +<p> +She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask Mother to lend her a hand, but +John and she had agreed that they would never annoy anyone 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-turvey kitchen, wrung her bedaubed hands, lifted up her voice +and wept. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +It is a world of disappointments, as John discovered when he reached the +Dovecote. 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 sanginary-looking boy asleep under the current +bushes. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Round the house he hurried, led by a pungent smell of burned 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 gaily 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“What worries you dear? Has anything dreadful happened?” asked the +anxious John, tenderly kissing the crown of the little cap, which was all +askew. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” sobbed Meg despairingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me quick, then. Don’t cry. I can bear anything better than +that. Out with it, love.” +</p> + +<p> +“The... The jelly won’t jell and I don’t know what to +do!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all? Fling it out of the 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...” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“A man to dinner, and everything in a mess! John Brooke, how could you do +such a thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +turtledoves will peck when ruffled. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I should hope not! Take him away at once. I can’t see him, and +there isn’t any dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I like that! Where’s the beef and vegetables I sent home, +and the pudding you promised?” cried John, rushing to the larder. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 fix us up something to eat. We’re both as +hungry as hunters, so we shan’t mind what it is. Give us the cold meat, +and bread and cheese. We won’t ask for jelly.” +</p> + +<p> +He meant it to be 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. +</p> + +<p> +“You must get yourself out of the scrape as you can. I’m too used +up to ‘exert’ myself for anyone. 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 on one breath, Meg cast +away her pinafore and precipitately left the field to bemoan herself in her own +room. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 cleaning up, she dressed +herself prettily, and sat down to wait for John to come and be forgiven. +</p> + +<p> +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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 slippers were +among the necessaries of life. Neither spoke. Both looked quite ‘calm and +firm’, and both felt desperately uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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, be very +careful, not to wake his 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly pots. Forgive me, dear. +I never will again!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 lucky fellow, and shook his head over the +hardships of bachelorhood all the way home. +</p> + +<p> +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 even worse. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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’s. 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 lend 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 pocketbook which they called the ‘bank’, when +Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously... +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t seen my private expense book yet.” +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +The little book was brought slowly out and laid down before him. Meg got behind +his chair under pretense of smoothing the wrinkles out of his tired forehead, +and standing there, she said, with her panic increasing with every word... +</p> + +<p> +“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 had done it, for I knew +you’d think it wrong in me.” +</p> + +<p> +John laughed, and drew her round beside him, saying goodhumoredly, +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s worse than boots, it’s a silk dress,” she said, +with the calmness of desperation, for she wanted the worst over. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dear, what is the ‘dem’d total’, as Mr. +Mantalini says?” +</p> + +<p> +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—. . . +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t made or trimmed,” sighed Meg, faintly, for a sudden +recollection of the cost still to be incurred quite overwhelmed her. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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, +“Oh, 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!” +</p> + +<p> +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 or 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 greatcoat 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.” +</p> + +<p> +Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall with her +face buried in the old greatcoat, crying as if her heart would break. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 greatcoat, 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 greatcoat 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. +</p> + +<p> +Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dovecote 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. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn’t you +tell me before I came home?” began Laurie in a loud whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut your eyes and hold out your arms,” she said invitingly. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you shan’t see your nevvy,” said Jo decidedly, turning +as if to go. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each arm, as if +already initiated into the mysteries of babytending, while Laurie laughed till +the tears ran down his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the best joke of the season, isn’t it? I wouldn’t +have told you, for I set my heart on surprising you, and I flatter myself +I’ve done it,” said Jo, when she got her breath. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Boy and girl. Aren’t they beauties?” said the proud papa, +beaming upon the little red squirmers as if they were unfledged angels. +</p> + +<p> +“Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?” and Laurie +bent like a well-sweep to examine the prodigies. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid they mightn’t like it,” began Laurie, with +unusual timidity in such matters. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course they will, they are used to it now. Do it this minute, +sir!” commanded Jo, fearing he might propose a proxy. +</p> + +<p> +Laurie screwed up his face and obeyed with a gingerly peck at each little cheek +that produced another laugh, and made the babies squeal. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s to be named John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after +mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisey, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Name him Demijohn, and call him Demi for short,” said Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“Daisy and Demi, just the thing! I knew Teddy would do it,” 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> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE<br/> +CALLS</h2> + +<p> +“Come, Jo, it’s time.” +</p> + +<p> +“For what?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make +half a dozen calls with me today?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 smelled 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 today, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 lamblike submission. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable, I die +happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +golden hair. “Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it up, +please, ma’am?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 snowbank, and as silent as the 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’. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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 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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“She rides splendidly. Who taught her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one. She used to practice 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 stableman 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 horsebreaker, and get +her living so.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Which did she choose?” asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who +enjoyed the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“None of them. She heard of a young horse at the farm house 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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she ride the horse?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that an original idea?” cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo +great fun. +</p> + +<p> +“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 cardcase at her. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t I do well?” asked Jo, with a satisfied air as they +walked away. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with the stiff +handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors. +</p> + +<p> +“How shall I behave here?” she asked, as they approached the third +mansion. +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you please. I wash my hands of you,” was Amy’s short +answer. +</p> + +<p> +“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 failure to suit. +</p> + +<p> +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, bearlike +but affectionate, and dearer to her than the most faultless coiffure from the +hands of an inspired Frenchwoman. +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor?” asked Amy, wisely refraining +from any comment upon Jo’s dilapidated appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it wouldn’t,” returned Jo, “I neither like, +respect, nor admire Tudor, though his grandfather’s uncle’s +nephew’s niece was a 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no use trying to argue with you,” began Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The family cardcase 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March today. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt March 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +practice it, you’d be better liked than I am, because there is more of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 Teddie 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 never try to be one.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, compose yourself now, and don’t worry Aunt with your new +ideas.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 aunts ‘my +deared’ her affectionately, looking what they afterward said +emphatically, “That child improves every day.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one +of them, she would have turned dove-like 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ahem!” coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you so,” said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt +Carrol. +</p> + +<p> +Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose in the air, +and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you speak French, dear?” asked Mrs. Carrol, laying a hand on +Amy’s. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you about languages?” asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Crosspatch, draw the latch,<br/> +Sit by the fire and spin, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Most observing bird,” said the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and take a walk, my dear?” cried Polly, hopping toward the +china closet, with a look suggestive of a lump of sugar. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY<br/> +CONSEQUENCES</h2> + +<p> +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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 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... +</p> + +<p> +“I find, dear, that there is some feeling among the young ladies about my +giving this table to anyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Chester 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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now she’s mad. Oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t asked you to speak, +Mama,” said May, looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table. +</p> + +<p> +“Girls’ quarrels are soon over,” returned her mother, feeling +a trifle ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might. +</p> + +<p> +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. Everyone 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 draft, +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 her task. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 practicing. +</p> + +<p> +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 the anteroom 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 scrollwork 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +heartburnings 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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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 spoiled.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say she’d put them back if you asked her,” suggested +someone. +</p> + +<p> +“How could I after all the fuss?” began May, but she did not +finish, for Amy’s voice came across the hall, saying pleasantly... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I call that lovely of her, don’t you?” cried one girl. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +skillful hands, the girls were very kind, and that one little act seemed to +have cleared the atmosphere amazingly. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very long day and a hard one for 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Laurie and +his friends made it a real martyrdom. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that my boy?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Teddy, such doings!” and Jo told Amy’s wrongs with +sisterly zeal. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t Hayes give you the best out of our gardens? I told him +to.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 centerpiece. 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 spritely and gracious as possible, coming to the conclusion, about +that time, that virtue was its own reward, after all. +</p> + +<p> +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 sign of them. “Tucked away out of +sight, I dare say,” thought Jo, who could forgive her own wrongs, but +hotly resented any insult offered her family. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 had, +that day. +</p> + +<p> +Much gratified, Jo rushed back to tell the good news, and Amy looked both +touched and surprised by the report of May’s word and manner. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“‘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. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, my son, for a small boy!” and walked him off, with a +paternal pat on the head. +</p> + +<p> +“Buy the vases,” whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of +coals of fire on her enemy’s head. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The fair was pronounced a success, and when May bade Amy goodnight, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants...” +</p> + +<p> +“Me to go with her!” burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an +uncontrollable rapture. +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear, not you. It’s Amy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid it’s 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you haven’t?” said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, +at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” said Jo, with a sigh. “If you wish it you’ll +have it, for your wishes are always granted—mine never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to go?” asked Amy, thoughtfully patting her nose +with her knife. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, take care of them for me, and if anything should happen...” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE<br/> +OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT</h2> + +<p class="letter"> +London +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 notebook, +for I’ve done nothing but sketch and scribble since I started. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 maintop 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 countryseats 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh, have you e’er heard of Kate Kearney?<br/> +She lives on the banks of Killarney;<br/> +From the glance of her eye,<br/> +Shun danger and fly,<br/> +For fatal’s the glance of Kate Kearney.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Wasn’t that nonsensical? +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 dogskin gloves, +some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella, and got shaved <i>Ã la</i> 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 given ’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 traveling. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 guidebook, 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 sometime, won’t we Papa?” Uncle, calmly admiring +his boots—“No, my dear, not unless you want beer, that’s a +brewery.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 crossbeam 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 <i>Flirtations of Captain Cavendish</i>, and I have the +scenery all to myself. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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? +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 breakneck 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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Now, then, mum?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Today 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +Everyone rides—old men, stout ladies, little children—and the young +folks do a deal of flirting here, I saw a pair exchange rose buds, for +it’s the thing to wear one in the button-hole, and I thought it rather a +nice little idea. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 theater 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? +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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, theaters, 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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +AMY +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +PARIS +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear girls, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 heart’s 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 it 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 ‘<i>parley vooing</i>’, +as Uncle calls it. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Such delightful times as we are having! Sight-seeing from morning till night, +stopping for nice lunches in the gay <i>cafes</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +The Palais Royale is a heavenly place, so full of <i>bijouterie</i> 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 +Champs Elysees are <i>tres magnifique</i>. 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique +Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Pere 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and sitting on 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 +sketchbook will give you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Adieu, I embrace you tenderly. <i>“Votre Amie.”</i> +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +HEIDELBERG +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +My dear Mamma, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +The sail up the Rhine was perfect, and I just sat and enjoyed it with all my +might. Get Father’s old guidebooks 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +The baths at Nassau were very gay, so was Baden-Baden, where Fred lost some +money, and I scolded him. He needs someone 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. Frankfurt 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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Now comes the serious part, for it happened here, and Fred has just gone. He +has been so kind and jolly that we all got quite fond of him. I never thought +of anything but a traveling 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 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 <i>must</i> marry well. Meg +didn’t, Jo won’t, Beth can’t yet, so I shall, and make +everything okay 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 anyone 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 ‘<i>ein wonderschones +Blondchen’</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 storybook 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 on 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?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 a while, 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?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Of course this is all <i>very private</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Ever your AMY +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO<br/> +TENDER TROUBLES</h2> + +<p> +“Jo, I’m anxious about Beth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you think so, Mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you asked her about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 long.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up,” returned her +mother with a sigh and a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender little +heart to her Jo sooner than to anyone else. Be very kind, and don’t let +her think anyone watches or talks about her. If she only would get quite strong +and cheerful again, I shouldn’t have a wish in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Happy woman! I’ve got heaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, what are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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, “All serene! Coming in tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 dreamed of such a thing. What will Mother say? I wonder if +her...” 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 anyone +dared to suggest it. If they had known the various 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 Sanskrit. 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +As everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 defense, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber. +</p> + +<p> +Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with deep aversion, +having been unmercifully pummeled with it in former days when romping was +allowed, and now frequently debarred by it from 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 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Now, this is filling at the price.” +</p> + +<p> +“No slang,” snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was too +late, there was no room for it, and coasting onto the floor, it disappeared in +a most mysterious manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Jo, don’t be thorny. After studying himself to a skeleton +all the week, a fellow deserves petting and ought to get it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beth will pet you. I’m busy.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +Anything more wheedlesome than that touching appeal was seldom heard, but Jo +quenched ‘her boy’ by turning on him with a stern query, “How +many bouquets have you sent Miss Randal this week?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not one, upon my word. She’s engaged. Now then.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +need a ‘vent’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother doesn’t approve of flirting even in fun, and you do flirt +desperately, Teddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Take lessons of Amy, she has a regular talent for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 gentleman. 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... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Out upon you, fie upon you,<br/> +Bold-faced jig!” +</p> + +<p> +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 mamas, 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 spoiled, 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 +‘vent’, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You really advise it?” and Laurie looked at her with an odd +mixture of anxiety and merriment in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“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 may be.” and Jo +looked a little queer likewise, for a name had almost escaped her. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather stay here, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that depends on who wears the apron!” and Laurie gave an +audacious tweak at the tassel. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going?” demanded Jo, diving for the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +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 departed in high dudgeon. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were asleep,” sobbed Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the old pain, my precious?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s a new one, but I can bear it,” and Beth tried to +check her tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me all about it, and let me cure it as I often did the +other.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is it? Shall I call Mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Jo,” after a long pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t it comfort you to tell me what it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not now, not yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I won’t ask, but remember, Bethy, that Mother and Jo are +always glad to hear and help you, if they can.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it. I’ll tell you by-and-by.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the pain better now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, much better, you are so comfortable, Jo.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to sleep, dear. I’ll stay with you.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But Jo had made up her mind, and after pondering over a project for some days, +she confided it to her mother. +</p> + +<p> +“You asked me the other day what my wishes were. I’ll tell you one +of them, Marmee,” she began, as they sat along together. “I want to +go away somewhere this winter for a change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Jo?” and her mother looked up quickly, as if the words +suggested a double meaning. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will you hop?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, go out to service in that great boarding house!” and Mrs. +March looked surprised, but not displeased. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I. But your writing?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt of it, but are these your only reasons for this sudden +fancy?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I know the others?” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that, Jo.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, please?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure of his feeling for you?” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go.” +</p> + +<p> +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 may still hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?’ +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tragic. 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 +lovelornity.” +</p> + +<p> +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 ‘lovelornity’ as easily as heretofore. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“One thing I leave in your especial care,” she said, the night +before she left. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean your papers?” asked Beth. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my boy. Be very good to him, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will, but I can’t fill your place, and he’ll +miss you sadly.” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t hurt him, so remember, I leave him in your charge, to +plague, pet, and keep in order.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do my best, for your sake,” promised Beth, wondering +why Jo looked at her so queerly. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE<br/> +JO’S JOURNAL</h2> + +<p class="letter"> +New York, November +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Marmee and Beth, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +I’m going to write you a regular volume, for I’ve got heaps to +tell, though I’m not a fine young lady traveling 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared up likewise and +enjoyed my journey with all my heart. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 spoiled, 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +After tea and a go-to-bed romp with the little girls, I attacked the big +workbasket, and had a quiet evening chatting with my new friend. I shall keep a +journal-letter, and send it once a week, so goodnight, and more tomorrow. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Tuesday Eve +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 needlework like little Mabel ‘with a willing +mind’. I was thanking my stars that I’d learned to make nice +buttonholes, when the parlor door opened and shut, and someone began to hum, +Kennst Du Das Land, like a big bumblebee. 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!” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Me wants me Bhaer,” said the mite, slamming down her book and +running to meet him. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 sweetfaced maiden lady, who looks as if +she had something in her. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 shoveled 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Governess, or something of that sort.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“What the deuce is she at our table for?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Friend of the old lady’s.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Handsome head, but no style.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Thursday +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Yesterday was a quiet day spent in teaching, sewing, and writing in my little +room, which is very cozy, 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 younger 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. Kirke says, and takes it +so good-naturedly that they all like him in spite of his foreign ways. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +The maiden lady is a Miss Norton, rich, cultivated, and kind. She spoke to me +at dinner today (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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Yes, and she’s jolly and we like her lots,” added Kitty, who +is an ‘enfant terrible’. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +We both bowed, and then we laughed, for the prim introduction and the blunt +addition were rather a comical contrast. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +I promised I would, and he departed, but it seems as if I was doomed to see a +good deal of him, for today 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... +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“You haf a fine day to make your walk. Bon voyage, Mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Saturday +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Nothing has happened to write about, except a call on Miss Norton, who has a +room full of pretty 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 seedcakes, as they roared and ramped in cages built of chairs. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“We are playing nargerie,” explained Kitty. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Dis is mine effalunt!” added Tina, holding on by the +Professor’s hair. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Mamma always allows us to do what we like Saturday afternoon, when Franz +and Emil come, doesn’t she, Mr. Bhaer?” said Minnie. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 sang, and when it began to grow dark they all piled onto +the sofa about the Professor, while he told charming fairy stories of the +storks on the chimney tops, and the little ‘koblods’, who ride the +snowflakes as they fall. I wish Americans were as simple and natural as +Germans, don’t you? +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 +everyone. From your faithful Jo. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +DECEMBER +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +My Precious Betsey, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 mantlepiece 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 burned brown, having been used as a holder. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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 goodnatured, he lets those boys ride over +him roughshod. 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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“So!” he said, as I stopped and stared like a goose, “you +peep at me, I peep at you, and this is not bad, but see, I am not pleasanting +when I say, haf you a wish for German?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Yes, but you are too busy. I am too stupid to learn,” I blundered +out, as red as a peony. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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 observe 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 thanks for this. +Come, a little lesson then and now, or—no more good fairy works for me +and mine.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 or +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 in glory. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“Now we shall try a new way. You and I will read these pleasant little +<i>marchen</i> together, and dig no more in that dry book, that goes in the +corner for making us trouble.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +He spoke so kindly, and opened Hans Anderson’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 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 +gut! 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 <i>The Constant Tin +Soldier</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +JANUARY +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 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! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 own name in it, +“from my friend Friedrich Bhaer”. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“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.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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’. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 mantlepiece as an +article of virtue, 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 laundrywoman to Miss Norton forgot him. I was so glad of that. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 +whippersnappers) 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 +theaters. 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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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 +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR<br/> +FRIEND</h2> + +<p> +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 life. 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. +</p> + +<p> +The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might, after long +traveling and much uphill work, lead to this delightful chateau 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 beanstalks 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 moneybags. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, I was looking for the Weekly Volcano office. I wished to see +Mr. Dashwood.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. She has had some experience, and got a prize for a tale in the +<i>Blarneystone Banner</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, Jo did <i>not</i> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 businesslike +tone. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Dashwoods’s editorial gravity relaxed into a smile, for Jo had +forgotten her ‘friend’, and spoken as only an author could. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You think it would do with these alterations, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a new plot, and pretty well worked up—language +good, and so on,” was Mr. Dashwood’s affable reply. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you—that is, what compensation—” began Jo, not +exactly knowing how to express herself. +</p> + +<p> +“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 do escape the editorial mind, it is said. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 on it?” in a careless tone. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll call. Good morning, Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +As she departed, Mr. Dashwood put up his feet, with the graceful remark, +“Poor and proud, as usual, but she’ll do.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +She thought it would do her no harm, for she sincerely meant to write nothing +of which she would 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. Wrongdoing always brings its own punishment, and when Jo most needed +hers, she got it. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it!” said Jo to herself, when she at length +discovered that genuine good will toward one’s fellow men could beautify +and dignify even a stout German teacher, who shoveled in his dinner, darned his +own socks, and was burdened with the name of Bhaer. +</p> + +<p> +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. He never spoke of himself, 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 entree into most 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. +</p> + +<p> +Jo went prepared to bow down and adore the mighty ones whom she had worshiped +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 Staels of the age, who looked daggers at +another Corinne, who was amiably satirizing her, after outmaneuvering 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. +</p> + +<p> +Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely disillusioned, 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 conversations were 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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, outtalked but not +one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him. +</p> + +<p> +She did neither, but she remembered the 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 to 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 headgear, for he was going to read her the Death of +Wallenstein. +</p> + +<p> +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. +. . +</p> + +<p> +“Mees Marsch, for what do you laugh in your master’s face? Haf you +no respect for me, that you go on so bad?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I be respectful, Sir, when you forget to take your hat +off?” said Jo. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a demand for whisky, 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 sugarplum, and +let the small ones eat it. No, they should think a little, and sweep mud in the +street before they do this thing.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like much to send all the rest after him,” muttered the +Professor, coming back with a relieved air. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers, and carefully reread +every one of her stories. Being a little shortsighted, 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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“They are trash, and will soon be worse 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?” +</p> + +<p> +Jo turned hot at the bare idea, and stuffed the whole bundle into her stove, +nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +But when nothing remained of all her three month’s 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 Mother and Father hadn’t been so particular about such +things.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anything. I’ll wait until 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 beanstalk had done her some good. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 besides German, and +laying a foundation for the sensation story of her own life. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasant winter and a long one, for she did not leave Mrs. Kirke till +June. Everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +She was going early, so she bade them all goodbye overnight, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you? Shall I come?” he asked, looking down at her with an eager +expression which she did not see. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, come next month. Laurie graduates then, and you’d enjoy +commencement as something new.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is your best friend, of whom you speak?” he said in an +altered tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my boy Teddy. I’m very proud of him and should like you to +see him.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tousled heads +upon the pillow, took down his seldom-used meerschaum, and opened his Plato. +</p> + +<p> +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 at home. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE<br/> +HEARTACHE</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got to stay for this confounded supper, but I shall be home +early tomorrow. 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... +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come, Teddy, rain or shine, and march before you, playing +‘Hail the conquering hero comes’ on a jew’s-harp.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 feelings. A call at Meg’s, and a refreshing sniff +and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn, still further fortified her for the +tete-a-tete, but when she saw a stalwart figure looming in the distance, she +had a strong desire to turn about and run away. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s the jew’s-harp, Jo?” cried Laurie, as soon as +he was within speaking distance. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot it.” And Jo took heart again, for that salutation could +not be called lover-like. +</p> + +<p> +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 faraway 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!” +</p> + +<p> +“I intend to.” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Say what you like then. I’ll listen,” said Jo, with a +desperate sort of patience. +</p> + +<p> +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 impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and +then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to save you this. I thought you’d understand...” +began Jo, finding it a great deal harder than she expected. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you did, but the 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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’. +</p> + +<p> +“You, 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 know 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, truly, Jo?” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped short, and caught both her hands as he put his question with a look +that she did not soon forget. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, truly, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +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 the 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Teddy, I’m 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell what?” she asked, wondering at his violence. +</p> + +<p> +“That you love that old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“What old man?” demanded Jo, thinking he must mean his grandfather. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will after a while, and then what will become of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll love someone else too, like a sensible boy, and forget all +this trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t love anyone else, and I’ll never forget you, Jo, +Never! Never!” with a stamp to emphasize his passionate words. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do with him?” sighed Jo, finding that emotions were +more unmanagable 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Marry—no we shouldn’t! If you loved me, Jo, I should be a +perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t. I’ve tried 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we will if we get the chance,” muttered Laurie rebelliously. +</p> + +<p> +“Now do be reasonable, and take a sensible view of the case,” +implored Jo, almost at her wit’s end. +</p> + +<p> +“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 it +harder. I don’t believe you’ve got any heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I hadn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +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! Everyone 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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be hanged if I do!” and Laurie bounced up off the +grass, burning with indignation at the very idea. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything more?” asked Laurie, finding it hard to listen patiently +to this prophetic burst. +</p> + +<p> +“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 a hurry to give +it up for any mortal man.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 tragic. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +That speech was like 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, where are you going?” she cried, for his face frightened her. +</p> + +<p> +“To the devil!” was the consoling answer. +</p> + +<p> +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 any 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. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do him good, and he’ll come home in such a tender, +penitent state of mind, that I shan’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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 like 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 ‘<i>Sonata Pathetique</i>’, and played it +as he never did before. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +No answer for an instant, then Laurie asked sharply, “Who told +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jo herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 now, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Anywhere. I don’t care what becomes of me,” and Laurie got +up with a reckless laugh that grated on his grandfather’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ve been wild to go, and I promised you should when you got +through college.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t ask you to go alone. There’s someone ready and glad +to go with you, anywhere in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, Sir?” stopping to listen. +</p> + +<p> +“Myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie came back as quickly as he went, and put out his hand, saying huskily, +“I’m a selfish brute, but—you +know—Grandfather—” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, what is it?” and Laurie sat down, without a sign of +interest in face or voice. +</p> + +<p> +“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 until you take my place, and can be off at any time.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you hate traveling, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 traveling +nowadays is almost as easy as sitting in a chair.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything you like, Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +gentleman 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 tragic 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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +When the parting came he affected high spirits, to conceal certain inconvenient +emotions which seemed inclined to assert themselves. This gaiety 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 +eloquent and pathetic. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jo, can’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Teddy, dear, I wish I could!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX<br/> +BETH’S SECRET</h2> + +<p> +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 littler 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 a 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 anyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 shadows 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 collecting. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 anyone. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Beth, and you didn’t tell me, didn’t let me comfort and +help you? How could you shut me out, bear it all alone?” +</p> + +<p> +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 goodbye +to health, love, and life, and take up her cross so cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I thought you loved him, Beth, and I went away because I +couldn’t,” cried Jo, glad to say all the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Beth looked so amazed at the idea that Jo smiled in spite of her pain, and +added softly, “Then you didn’t, dearie? I was afraid it was so, and +imagined your poor little heart full of lovelornity all that while.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 could never be anything to me but my brother. I hope he +truly will be, sometime.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +for 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. +</p> + +<p> +By and by Beth said, with recovered serenity, “You’ll tell them +this when we go home?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think they will see it without words,” sighed Jo, for now it +seemed to her that Beth changed every day. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 anyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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, and 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 turtledove, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face, and with that silent kiss, she +dedicated herself soul and body to Beth. +</p> + +<p> +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 +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 +mantelpiece 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap37"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN<br/> +NEW IMPRESSIONS</h2> + +<p> +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 criticizing 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 buttonholes, 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 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 young 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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’. +</p> + +<p> +“I was detained by the way, but I promised to spend Christmas with you, +and here I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is your grandfather? When did you come? Where are you +staying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well—last night—at the Chauvain. I called at your +hotel, but you were out.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“What happens then, a ball?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to the bankers 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Often, years ago, but I don’t mind having a look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me all about yourself. The last I heard of you, your +grandfather wrote that he expected you from Berlin.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a sociable arrangement,” said Amy, missing something +in Laurie’s manner, though she couldn’t tell what. +</p> + +<p> +“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 someone 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Que pensez-vous?” she said, airing her French, which had improved +in quantity, if not in quality, since she came abroad. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 blase, it sounded indifferent in spite of the look. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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!’. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +As they came up onto 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember. It’s not much changed,” he answered without +enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“What Jo would give for a sight of that famous speck!” said Amy, +feeling in good spirits and anxious to see him so also. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 chasseed down the room, admiring +her aristocratic feet all by herself. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, Diana!” said Laurie, with the look of satisfaction +she liked to see in his eyes when they rested on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, Apollo!” she answered, smiling back at him, for he +too looked unusually debonair, and the thought of entering the ballroom on the +arm of such a personable man caused Amy to pity the four plain Misses Davis +from the bottom of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How kind you are!” she exclaimed gratefully. “If I’d +known you were coming I’d have had something ready for you today, though +not as pretty as this, I’m afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you liked that sort of thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not from you, it doesn’t sound natural, and I like your old +bluntness better.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +The company assembled in the long salle a 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 luster to their Christmas ball. +</p> + +<p> +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 to 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 traveling young gentlemen who disported themselves gaily, while mammas of +all nations lined the walls and smiled upon them benignly when they danced with +their daughters. +</p> + +<p> +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 +ballroom, 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“One usually does at a ball.” +</p> + +<p> +Her amazed look and quick answer caused Laurie to repair his error as fast as +possible. +</p> + +<p> +“I meant the first dance. May I have the honor?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Nice little boy, but rather a short Pole to support... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A daughter of the gods,<br/> +Devinely tall, and most divinely fair,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +was all the satisfaction she got, however. +</p> + +<p> +The set in which they found themselves was composed of English, and Amy was +compelled to walk decorously through a cotillion, feeling all the while as if +she could dance the tarantella with 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 penitence. She showed him her ball book with demure +satisfaction when he strolled instead of rushed up to claim her for the next, a +glorious polka redowa. But his polite regrets didn’t impose upon her, and +when she galloped away with the Count, she saw Laurie sit down by her aunt with +an actual expression of relief. +</p> + +<p> +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’. +</p> + +<p> +It was a lively scene, for soon the spirit of the social season took possession +of everyone, 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 +gamboled like a flock of young giraffes. The golden secretary darted through +the room like a meteor with a dashing French-woman 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 garcons 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 shown, his coattails 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“You look like Balzac’s ‘<i>Femme Peinte Par +Elle-Meme</i>’,” he said, as he fanned her with one hand and held +her coffee cup in the other. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call this stuff?” he asked, touching a fold of her +dress that had blown over his knee. +</p> + +<p> +“Illusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good name for it. It’s very pretty—new thing, isn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw it on you before, which accounts for the mistake, you +see.” +</p> + +<p> +“None of that, it is forbidden. I’d rather take coffee than +compliments just now. No, don’t lounge, it makes me nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +Laurie sat bold 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 irrestible desire to trample on him, as girls have +a delightful way of doing when lords of creation show any signs of subjection. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you learn all this sort of thing?” he asked with a +quizzical look. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +Amy rather regretted that last sentence, fearing it wasn’t in good taste, +but Laurie liked her 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap38"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT<br/> +ON THE SHELF</h2> + +<p> +In France the young girls have a dull time of it till they are married, when +‘Vive la liberte!’ becomes their motto. In America, as everyone +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 gaily 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 a 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 chessboard ready, the piano in tune, +plenty of gay gossip, and a nice little supper set forth in tempting style. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 workbasket 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t tell anyone except you, Mother, but I really do need +advice, for if John goes on much longer I might as well be widowed,” +replied Mrs. Brooke, drying her tears on Daisy’s bib with an injured air. +</p> + +<p> +“Goes on how, my dear?” asked her mother anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“So are women. Don’t blame John till you see where you are wrong +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it can’t be right for him to neglect me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you neglect him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Mother, I thought you’d take my part!” +</p> + +<p> +“So I do, as far as sympathizing goes, but I think the fault is yours, +Meg.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see how.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I can’t do it now, with two babies to tend.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oughtn’t I to be there?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 a part to do, and he +will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be better for you all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You really think so, Mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 spoiled 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“John is so sensible, I’m afraid he will think I’m stupid if +I ask questions about politics and things.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will. Poor John! I’m afraid I have neglected him sadly, but I +thought I was right, and he never said anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +to 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 sang and rocked, told stories and tried every +sleep-prevoking 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 tip-toeing into the dining room. +</p> + +<p> +“Me has tea!” said Demi, preparing to join in the revel. +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I’ll save you some little cakies for breakfast, if +you’ll go bye-bye like Daisy. Will you, lovey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Iss!” and Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry +the desired day. +</p> + +<p> +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 tonight. Do you expect +company?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only you, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a birthday, anniversary, or anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m tired of being 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do it out of respect for you, my dear,” said old-fashioned John. +</p> + +<p> +“Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke,” laughed Meg, looking young and pretty +again, as she nodded to him over the teapot. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“Opy doy. Me’s tummin!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Mornin’ now,” announced Demi in joyful tone as he entered, +with his long nightgown gracefully festooned over his arm and every curl +bobbing gayly as he pranced about the table, eyeing the ‘cakies’ +with loving glances. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was he disappointed, for that shortsighted woman actually gave him a lump +of sugar, tucked him into his bed, and forbade any more promenades till +morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Iss!” said Demi the perjured, blissfully sucking his sugar, and +regarding his first attempt as eminently successful. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He won’t stay there, he never does unless I sit by him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll manage him. Demi, go upstairs, and get into your bed, as +Mamma bids you.” +</p> + +<p> +“S’ant!” replied the young rebel, helping himself to the +coveted ‘cakie’, and beginning to eat the same with calm audacity. +</p> + +<p> +“You must never say that to Papa. I shall carry you if you don’t go +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ’way, me don’t love Parpar.” and Demi retired to +his mother’s skirts for protection. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Let me stay with him, he’ll be good now, John.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he’ll cry himself sick,” pleaded Meg, reproaching +herself for deserting her boy. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s my child, and I can’t have his spirit broken by +harshness.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s my child, and I won’t have his temper spoiled by +indulgence. Go down, my dear, and leave the boy to me.” +</p> + +<p> +When John spoke in that masterful tone, Meg always obeyed, and never regretted +her docility. +</p> + +<p> +“Please let me kiss him once, John?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +spreadeagle 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 wiser +baby. So held, John had waited with a 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 +clue 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear man, it’s a bonnet! My very best go-to-concert-and-theater +bonnet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, it was so small, I naturally mistook it for one of +the flyaway things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 everyone 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 homelike again, and John had no wish to leave it, +unless he took Meg with him. The Scotts came to the Brookes’ now, and +everyone found the little house a cheerful place, full of happiness, content, +and family love. Even 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 as a wise wife and +mother. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap39"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE<br/> +LAZY LAURENCE</h2> + +<p> +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 homelike 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 sank 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll go with pleasure.” and he put out his hand for her +sketchbook. But she tucked it under her arm with a sharp... +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t trouble yourself. It’s no exertion to me, but you +don’t look equal to it.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The two never quarreled. Amy was too well-bred, and just now Laurie was too +lazy, so in a minute he peeped under her hatbrim with an inquiring air. She +answered him with a smile, and they went on together in the most amicable +manner. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 buttonhole 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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s good advice, you’d better take it and save your +fingers,” she said, thinking her speech amused him. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, I will,” he answered in jest, and a few months later he +did it in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +“Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?” she asked +presently, as she settled herself on a rustic seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Very soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say, short answers save trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“He expects you, and you really ought to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hospitable creature! I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why don’t you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Natural depravity, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Natural indolence, you mean. It’s really dreadful!” and Amy +looked severe. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Amy shook her head and opened her sketchbook with an air of resignation, but +she had made up her mind to lecture ‘that boy’ and in a minute she +began again. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing just now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Watching lizards.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no. I mean what do you intend and wish to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Smoke a cigarette, if you’ll allow me.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. I intend to work +hard,” said Amy in her most energetic tone. +</p> + +<p> +“What delightful enthusiasm!” and he leaned against a tall urn with +an air of entire satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Wish I was!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a foolish wish, unless you have spoiled 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m all ready for the secrets.” and he glanced up with a +decided expression of interest in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve none to tell. You may begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t one to bless myself with. I thought perhaps you’d +had some news from home..” +</p> + +<p> +“You have heard all that has come lately. Don’t you hear often? I +fancied Jo would send you volumes.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you, with so much energy and talent?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are you going to do with yourself now, if I may ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the +chance.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Good! And here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t promise to answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not for me to say,” was Amy’s grim 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. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not engaged, I hope?” and Laurie looked very +elder-brotherly and grave all of a sudden. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down on his knees, +won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are fond of old Fred?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could be, if I tried.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, nevertheless.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d do me the favor to rouse yourself a little,” +she said sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Do it for me, there’s a dear girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could, if I tried.” and she looked as if she would like doing it +in the most summary style. +</p> + +<p> +“Try, then. I give you leave,” returned Laurie, who enjoyed having +someone to tease, after his long abstinence from his favorite pastime. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d be angry in five minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire. You +are as cool and soft as snow.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo and I have got a new name for you. It’s Lazy Laurence. How do +you like it?” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pining to be told.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I despise you.” +</p> + +<p> +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 in +her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly... +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if you please?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are +faulty, lazy, and miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strong language, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you like it, I’ll go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray do, it’s quite interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you’d find it so. Selfish people always like to talk +about themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 were 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t a fellow to have any pleasure after a four-year +grind?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 ought to be, you are only...” there she stopped, with a +look that had both pain and pity in it. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think they would,” came from under the hat, in a grim tone, +quite as touching as a broken one. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg pardon, I thought...” and there she paused diplomatically. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you didn’t, you knew perfectly well I never cared for anyone +but Jo,” Laurie said that in his old, impetuous tone, and turned his face +away as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The hard, bitter look came back again as he said that, and it troubled Amy, for +she did not know what balm to apply. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if she saw you now. She hates lazy people. Why don’t you do +something splendid, and make her love you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did my best, but it was no use.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone knew that you could do +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“How well you draw!” he said, with a genuine surprise and pleasure +at her skill, adding, with a half-laugh, “Yes, that’s me.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you are. This is as you were.” and Amy laid another sketch +beside the one he held. +</p> + +<p> +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 ‘<i>Dolce far +Niente</i>’ 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 effacious than he would confess. +Amy felt the shade of coldness in his manner, and said to herself... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +They laughed and chatted all the way home, and little Baptiste, up behind, +thought that monsieur and madamoiselle 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 gaiety, there was a secret discontent in +the heart of each. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we see you this evening, mon frere?” asked Amy, as they +parted at her aunt’s door. +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately I have an engagement. Au revoir, madamoiselle,” 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... +</p> + +<p> +“No, be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I’d +rather have a hearty English handshake than all the sentimental salutations in +France.” +</p> + +<p> +“Goodbye, dear,” and with these words, uttered in the tone she +liked, Laurie left her, after a handshake almost painful in its heartiness. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, instead of the usual call, Amy received a note which made her +smile at the beginning and sigh at the end. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Yours gratefully, Telemachus +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap40"></a>CHAPTER FORTY<br/> +THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 worktable, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 needlebook for some small mother of many dolls, penwipers for young penmen +toiling through forests of pothooks, scrapbooks for picture-loving eyes, and +all manner of pleasant devices, till the reluctant climbers of 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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, Pilgrims’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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +MY BETH +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Sitting patient in the shadow<br/> +Till the blessed light shall come,<br/> +A serene and saintly presence<br/> +Sanctifies our troubled home.<br/> +Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows<br/> +Break like ripples on the strand<br/> +Of the deep and solemn river<br/> +Where her willing feet now stand. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +O my sister, passing from me,<br/> +Out of human care and strife,<br/> +Leave me, as a gift, those virtues<br/> +Which have beautified your life.<br/> +Dear, bequeath me that great patience<br/> +Which has power to sustain<br/> +A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit<br/> +In its prison-house of pain. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Give me, for I need it sorely,<br/> +Of that courage, wise and sweet,<br/> +Which has made the path of duty<br/> +Green beneath your willing feet.<br/> +Give me that unselfish nature,<br/> +That with charity divine<br/> +Can pardon wrong for love’s dear sake—<br/> +Meek heart, forgive me mine! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Thus our parting daily loseth<br/> +Something of its bitter pain,<br/> +And while learning this hard lesson,<br/> +My great loss becomes my gain.<br/> +For the touch of grief will render<br/> +My wild nature more serene,<br/> +Give to life new aspirations,<br/> +A new trust in the unseen. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Henceforth, safe across the river,<br/> +I shall see forever more<br/> +A beloved, household spirit<br/> +Waiting for me on the shore.<br/> +Hope and faith, born of my sorrow,<br/> +Guardian angels shall become,<br/> +And the sister gone before me<br/> +By their hands shall lead me home. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Oh</i>, Beth, so much, so much!” and Jo’s head went down +upon the pillow beside her sister’s. +</p> + +<p> +“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 someone +loves me so much, and feels as if I’d helped them.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +So the spring days came and went, the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the +flowers were up fairly early, and the birds came back in time to say goodbye 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 snowdrops 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap41"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-ONE<br/> +LEARNING TO FORGET</h2> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 spoiled 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’. +</p> + +<p> +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 to 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 a la Gummidge—and an +irresistable laugh spoiled 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 some 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 everyone 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 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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, tenderhearted little lads, who still +love their mothers better than themselves and are not ashamed to own it. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +As the word ‘brotherly’ passed through his mind in one of his +reveries, he smiled, and glanced up at the picture of Mozart that was before +him... +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he was a great man, and when he couldn’t have one sister he +took the other, and was happy.” +</p> + +<p> +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...” +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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’. +</p> + +<p> +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 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 stonyhearted. 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 sister’s 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 ballroom 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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“I was sure she would think better of it. Poor old fellow! I’ve +been through it all, and I can sympathize.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 goodbye 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +garcon was in despair that the whole family had gone to take a promenade on the +lake, but no, the blonde 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 courtyard 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Laurie, Laurie, I knew you’d come to me!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not if you want me, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 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. +</p> + +<p> +He had rather imagined that the denoument 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. +</p> + +<p> +They had been talking of Bonnivard, as they glided past Chillon, and of +Rousseau, as they looked up at Clarens, where he wrote his Heloise. 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“How well we pull together, don’t we?” said Amy, who objected +to silence just then. +</p> + +<p> +“So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, +Amy?” very tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Laurie,” very low. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap42"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-TWO<br/> +ALL ALONE</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +doesn’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. +</p> + +<p> +But someone 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 unsubmissive sorrow, “Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 for it. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 around the little mop and the old brush, 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 cozy, 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... +</p> + +<p> +“You thoughtful creeter, you’re determined we shan’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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom +out half as well as you have, if I tried it?, always +<i>‘perwisin’</i> I could,” said Jo, as she constructed a +kite for Demi in the topsy-turvy nursery. +</p> + +<p> +“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 kernal, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show +your heart one day, and then the rough burr will fall off.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 of 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 +kernal sound and sweet. If she 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. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral storybook, 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? +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you write? That always used to make you happy,” +said her mother once, when the desponding fit over-shadowed Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t believe I can.” But Jo got out her desk and began to +overhaul her half-finished manuscripts. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 thoughts of +fame and 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there is anything good or true in what I write, it isn’t mine. +I owe it all to you and Mother and Beth,” said Jo, more touched by her +father’s words than by any amount of praise from the world. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +loverlike fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to think of, for no +one had any objection to make. +</p> + +<p> +“You like it, Mother?” said Jo, as they laid down the closely +written sheets and looked at one another. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How sharp you are, Marmee, and how silent! You never said a word to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not the scatterbrain I was. You may trust me. I’m sober +and sensible enough for anyone’s confidante now.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you are, my dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it +might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved someone else.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” and Mrs. March smiled her wise smile, as Jo turned back the +leaves to read what Amy said of Laurie. +</p> + +<p> +“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. Oh, Mother, I +never knew how much like heaven this world could be, when two people love and +live for one another!” +</p> + +<p> +“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 workaday world again. +</p> + +<p> +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 someone 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 owners 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 relived 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 they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in +her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 everyone seems going away from me, and +I’m all alone.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap43"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-THREE<br/> +SURPRISES</h2> + +<p> +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 +tomorrow 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +It seldom is, at first, and thirty seems the end of all things to +five-and-twenty. But it’s not as 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, tragic 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 best nevvy in the world’. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“She could not think it he,” +</p> + +<p> +and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and kissed her. +Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh my Teddy! Oh my Teddy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Glad! My blessed boy, words can’t express my gladness. +Where’s Amy?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your what?” cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two words with an +unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the dickens! Now I’ve done it,” and he looked so guilty +that Jo was down on him like a flash. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve gone and got married!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Actually married?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much so, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy on us. What dreadful thing will you do next?” and Jo fell +into her seat with a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, congratulation,” +returned Laurie, still in an abject attitude, but beaming with satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to +barricade.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What does Amy call you?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s like her. Well, you look it,” and Jo’s eye +plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t I look like a married man and the head of a family?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit, and you never will. You’ve grown bigger and bonnier, +but you are the same scapegrace as ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect,” began +Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you did, and spoiled your story by beginning at the wrong end. +Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened. I’m pining to +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I did it to please Amy,” began Laurie, with a twinkle that +made Jo exclaim... +</p> + +<p> +“Fib number one. Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if +you can, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“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’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you did. You always have things to suit you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not always,” and something in Laurie’s voice made Jo say +hastily... +</p> + +<p> +“How did you ever get Aunt to agree?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“When, where, how?” asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interest and +curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the little +red pillow, which he remembered well. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you let us know afterward?” asked Jo, in a +quieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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 so 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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 changed 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 you 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 dearly. Will you believe it, and +go back to the happy old times when we first knew one another?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered, in a tone which +she tried to make more cheerful, “No, I had Father and Mother to help me, +and 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...” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering how you and Amy get on together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like angels!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, but which rules?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of +your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband and enjoying +it!” cried Jo, with uplifted hands. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What baseness! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I’ll +defend you.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +In trooped the whole family, and everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Love has done much for our little girl,” said her mother softly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her ‘pitty aunty’, +but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chatelaine 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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, “I’ll try to fill her place, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand, for everyone +was so busy with the newcomers 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 ad 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 a 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (coupe), and use all them lovely silver +dishes that’s stored away over yander?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“No more there is! Will you have hash or fishballs for breakfast?” +asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +She opened 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. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You +haf been ill, my friend?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you +last.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a +minute by the cordial welcome he received. Everyone 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 +traveler who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself at +home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 newcomer 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 eyes 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected, however, for though just +in the act of setting fire to a funeral pyre, 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. +</p> + +<p> +Nobody knew where the evening went to, for Hannah skillfully 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 nightgown afire +studying the structure of matches, made a move to go. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +dissoluble. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Play something, Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved,” +said Laurie, with pardonable pride in his promising pupil. +</p> + +<p> +But Amy whispered, with full eyes, as she twirled the faded stool, “Not +tonight, dear. I can’t show off tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +But she did show something better than brilliancy or skill, for she sang +Beth’s songs with a tender music in her voice which the best master could +not have taught, and touched the listener’s 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... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal; +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and Amy leaned against her husband, who stood behind her, feeling that her +welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth’s kiss. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“You will sing with me? We go excellently well together.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Know’st thou the land where the citron blooms, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +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... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +There, oh there, might I with thee,<br/> +O, my beloved, go +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I suspect that is a wise man,” remarked Mr. March, with placid +satisfaction, from the hearthrug, after the last guest had gone. +</p> + +<p> +“I know he is a good one,” added Mrs. March, with decided approval, +as she wound up the clock. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you’d like him,” was all Jo said, as she slipped +away to her bed. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap44"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR<br/> +MY LORD AND LADY</h2> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. Go, dear, I forgot 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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...” +</p> + +<p> +“Weathercock can without the wind,” suggested Jo, as he paused for +a simile. Jo had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 spoiled. I need something of the sort to +keep me steady. I’m tired of dawdling, and mean to work like a +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Amy, what is she going to do?” asked Mrs. March, well pleased +at Laurie’s decision and the energy with which he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“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 Recamier?” +asked Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“How happy those children seem together!” observed Mr. March, +finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple +had gone. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I know it will. Happy Amy!” and Jo sighed, then smiled brightly as +Professor Bhaer opened the gate with an impatient push. +</p> + +<p> +Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the bootjack, +Laurie said suddenly to his wife, “Mrs. Laurence.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“That man intends to marry our Jo!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, don’t you, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am, and admiring the mole 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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, you may.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you care if Jo does marry Mr. Bhaer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s the trouble is it? I thought there was something in the +dimple that didn’t quite 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?” +</p> + +<p> +Amy looked up at him, and was satisfied. Her little jealous fear vanished +forever, and she thanked him, with a face full of love and confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 gentle folks 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 +blarnerying beggar. I suppose it’s wrong, but I do, though it is +harder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it takes a gentleman to do it,” added the other member of +the domestic admiration society. +</p> + +<p> +“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 heros, 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 beggarmaid 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a bargain, and we shall get the best of it!” +</p> + +<p> +So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again, feeling +that their pleasant home was more homelike 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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap45"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE<br/> +DAISY AND DEMI</h2> + +<p> +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 spoiled 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 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 +‘sewinsheen’, a mysterious structure of string, chairs, +clothespins, and spools, for wheels to go ‘wound and wound’. Also a +basket hung over the back of a 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.” +</p> + +<p> +Though utterly unlike in character, the twins got on remarkably well together, +and seldom quarreled 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 nightgown to look out, and say, no matter whether it rained or shone, +“Oh, pitty day, oh, pitty day!” Everyone was a friend, and she +offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly that the most inveterate bachelor +relented, and baby-lovers became faithful worshipers. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +As she grew, her mother began to feel that the Dovecote would be blessed 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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your little mind, Demi,” replied the sage, stroking the +yellow head respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“What is a little mine?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is something which makes your body move, as the spring made the +wheels go in my watch when I showed it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Open me. I want to see it go wound.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t do that any more than you could open the watch. God winds +you up, and you go till He stops you.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I can’t show you how, for it is done when we don’t +see.” +</p> + +<p> +Demi felt 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he is old enough to ask the question 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 parent’s souls. +</p> + +<p> +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? +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Me likes to be sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to have you, so run away and help Daisy make patty +cakes.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, Marmar?” asks Demi, with a brilliant idea in his +well-powdered head. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, truly. Anything you say,” replies the shortsighted 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... +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’ll go and eat up all the raisins.” +</p> + +<p> +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 like to play with ‘the +bear-man’ better than she did 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. +</p> + +<p> +Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes, but Demi +didn’t see it in that light, and continued to patronize the ‘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 surpassing worth. +</p> + +<p> +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 +reveled in long discussions with the kindred spirit, till a chance remark of +his more observing grandson suddenly enlightened him. +</p> + +<p> +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 grovelers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of +spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a +scandalized face... +</p> + +<p> +“Father, Father, here’s the Professor!” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you been at today, bubchen?” asked Mr. Bhaer, picking up +the gymnast. +</p> + +<p> +“Me went to see little Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I kissed her,” began Demi, with artless frankness. +</p> + +<p> +“Prut! Thou beginnest early. What did the little Mary say to that?” +asked Mr. Bhaer, continuing to confess the young sinner, who stood upon the +knee, exploring the waistcoat pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she liked it, and she kissed me, and I liked it. Don’t little +boys like little girls?” asked Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of +bland satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“You precocious chick! Who put that into your head?” said Jo, +enjoying the innocent revelation as much as the Professor. +</p> + +<p> +“’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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 artlessy inquired. .. +</p> + +<p> +“Do great boys like great girls, to, ’Fessor?” +</p> + +<p> +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 clothesbrush, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap46"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-SIX<br/> +UNDER THE UMBRELLA</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don’t know why I +should give it up, just because I 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 until 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 +returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +By the second week, everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet +everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +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’ 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 +goodbye 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so,” answered Jo absently. +</p> + +<p> +“If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea. I quite long to +see the dear man,” added Mrs. March. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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 someone, 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... +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m shopping.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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... +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we +rather missed you, Father and Mother especially.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m always glad to see you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, and come one more time before I go.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are going, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haf no longer any business here, it is done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Successfully, I hope?” said Jo, for the bitterness of +disappointment was in that short reply of his. +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make my +bread and gif my Junglings much help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, please! I like to know all about the—the boys,” +said Jo eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! But we shall not meet often, I fear, this place is at the +West.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the place for my errands. Will you come in? It won’t +take long.” +</p> + +<p> +Jo rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly +wished to impress her escort with the neatness and dispatch 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Should we no do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and haf +a farewell feast tonight if I go for my last call at your so pleasant +home?” he asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers. +</p> + +<p> +“What will we buy?” asked Jo, ignoring the latter part of his +speech, and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they +went in. +</p> + +<p> +“May they haf oranges and figs?” asked Mr. Bhaer, with a paternal +air. +</p> + +<p> +“They eat them when they can get them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you care for nuts?” +</p> + +<p> +“Like a squirrel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hamburg grapes. Yes, we shall drink to the Fatherland in those?” +</p> + +<p> +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 be 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 knobby bundles, and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up +the old umbrella, and they traveled on again. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Marsch, I haf a great favor to ask of you,” began the +Professor, after a moist promenade of half a block. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir?” and Jo’s heart began to beat so hard she was +afraid he would hear it. +</p> + +<p> +“I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time +remains to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” and Jo nearly crushed the small flowerpot with the +sudden squeeze she gave it. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” and Jo felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she +had stepped into a refrigerator. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 +that was pleasant to behold. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer?” she asked, turning her back to +him, and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now shall we go home?” he asked, as if the words were very +pleasant to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s late, and I’m <i>so</i> 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, and 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. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not our omniboos,” said the Professor, waving the loaded +vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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 remonstrations 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 hatbrim 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Friedrich, why didn’t you...” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I always call you so to myself—I forgot, but I won’t unless +you like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t ‘thou’ a little sentimental?” asked Jo, +privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, why didn’t thou tell me all this sooner?” asked +Jo bashfully. +</p> + +<p> +“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 goodbye 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I’m afraid not, for I didn’t have any +heart just then.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the first love is the best, but be so 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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like that,” cried Jo, delighted with her new name. “Now +tell me what brought you, at last, just when I wanted you?” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” and Mr. Bhaer took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“How could that bring you?” she asked, wondering what he meant. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +IN THE GARRET +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Four little chests all in a row,<br/> +Dim with dust, and worn by time,<br/> +All fashioned and filled, long ago,<br/> +By children now in their prime.<br/> +Four little keys hung side by side,<br/> +With faded ribbons, brave and gay<br/> +When fastened there, with childish pride,<br/> +Long ago, on a rainy day.<br/> +Four little names, one on each lid,<br/> +Carved out by a boyish hand,<br/> +And underneath there lieth hid<br/> +Histories of the happy band<br/> +Once playing here, and pausing oft<br/> +To hear the sweet refrain,<br/> +That came and went on the roof aloft,<br/> +In the falling summer rain. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Meg” on the first lid, smooth and fair.<br/> +I look in with loving eyes,<br/> +For folded here, with well-known care,<br/> +A goodly gathering lies,<br/> +The record of a peaceful life—<br/> +Gifts to gentle child and girl,<br/> +A bridal gown, lines to a wife,<br/> +A tiny shoe, a baby curl.<br/> +No toys in this first chest remain,<br/> +For all are carried away,<br/> +In their old age, to join again<br/> +In another small Meg’s play.<br/> +Ah, happy mother! Well I know<br/> +You hear, like a sweet refrain,<br/> +Lullabies ever soft and low<br/> +In the falling summer rain. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Jo” on the next lid, scratched and worn,<br/> +And within a motley store<br/> +Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn,<br/> +Birds and beasts that speak no more,<br/> +Spoils brought home from the fairy ground<br/> +Only trod by youthful feet,<br/> +Dreams of a future never found,<br/> +Memories of a past still sweet,<br/> +Half-writ poems, stories wild,<br/> +April letters, warm and cold,<br/> +Diaries of a wilful child,<br/> +Hints of a woman early old,<br/> +A woman in a lonely home,<br/> +Hearing, like a sad refrain—<br/> +“Be worthy, love, and love will come,”<br/> +In the falling summer rain. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +My Beth! the dust is always swept<br/> +From the lid that bears your name,<br/> +As if by loving eyes that wept,<br/> +By careful hands that often came.<br/> +Death canonized for us one saint,<br/> +Ever less human than divine,<br/> +And still we lay, with tender plaint,<br/> +Relics in this household shrine—<br/> +The silver bell, so seldom rung,<br/> +The little cap which last she wore,<br/> +The fair, dead Catherine that hung<br/> +By angels borne above her door.<br/> +The songs she sang, without lament,<br/> +In her prison-house of pain,<br/> +Forever are they sweetly blent<br/> +With the falling summer rain. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Upon the last lid’s polished field—<br/> +Legend now both fair and true<br/> +A gallant knight bears on his shield,<br/> +“Amy” in letters gold and blue.<br/> +Within lie snoods that bound her hair,<br/> +Slippers that have danced their last,<br/> +Faded flowers laid by with care,<br/> +Fans whose airy toils are past,<br/> +Gay valentines, all ardent flames,<br/> +Trifles that have borne their part<br/> +In girlish hopes and fears and shames,<br/> +The record of a maiden heart<br/> +Now learning fairer, truer spells,<br/> +Hearing, like a blithe refrain,<br/> +The silver sound of bridal bells<br/> +In the falling summer rain. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Four little chests all in a row,<br/> +Dim with dust, and worn by time,<br/> +Four women, taught by weal and woe<br/> +To love and labor in their prime.<br/> +Four sisters, parted for an hour,<br/> +None lost, one only gone before,<br/> +Made by love’s immortal power,<br/> +Nearest and dearest evermore.<br/> +Oh, when these hidden stores of ours<br/> +Lie open to the Father’s sight,<br/> +May they be rich in golden hours,<br/> +Deeds that show fairer for the light,<br/> +Lives whose brave music long shall ring,<br/> +Like a spirit-stirring strain,<br/> +Souls that shall gladly soar and sing<br/> +In the long sunshine after rain. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?’” +</p> + +<p> +“And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious +thing I needed,” whispered Jo. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 gif 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap47"></a>CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN<br/> +HARVEST TIME</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to live there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll try his hand at it there, if I propose it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you expect to live on the produce of the place? Well, that sounds +paradisiacal, but you’ll find it desperate hard work.” +</p> + +<p> +“The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one,” and Jo +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma’am?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’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. +</p> + +<p> +“I like it,” said Mrs. March decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance +for trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be an immense care for Jo,” said Meg, stroking the head of +her one all-absorbing son. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 could 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see anything funny,” she said gravely, when she +could be heard. “Nothing could be more natural and proper than for my +Professor to open a school, and for me to prefer to reside in my own +estate.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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 in 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 +mismanagment 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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll testify that you tried to do it,” said Laurie with a +grateful look. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ve succeeded beyond my hopes, for here you are, a steady, +sensible businessman, doing heaps of good with your money, and laying up the +blessings of the poor, instead of dollars. But you are not merely a +businessman, 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 everyone 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’.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 head, and the other on Amy’s +golden one, for the three were never far apart. +</p> + +<p> +“I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the +world!” burst out Jo, who was in an unusually up-lifted 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Of course it was uphill 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 around, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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 +wrongdoing, 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. Goldenrod 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 everyone 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. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley, and Columella to Mr. +Laurence, while enjoying... +</p> + +<p> +The gentle apple’s winey juice. +</p> + +<p> +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 bird’s 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. +</p> + +<p> +Jo was in her element that day, and rushed about, with her gown pinned up, and +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 leapfrog 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Grandma’s sixtieth birthday! Long life to her, with three +times three!” +</p> + +<p> +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 miracle of mechanical skill, though the cover wouldn’t shut, +Rob’s footstool had a wiggle in its uneven legs that she declared was +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.” +</p> + +<p> +During the 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 sang with all their hearts the little song that 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. +</p> + +<p> +After this, the boys dispersed for a final lark, leaving Mrs. March and her +daughters under the festival tree. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 fulfill 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.” +</p> + +<p> +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 blessed for ... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Into each life some rain must fall,<br/> +Some days must be dark and sad and dreary. +</p> + +<p> +“She is growing better, I am sure of it, my dear. Don’t despond, +but hope and keep happy,” said Mrs. March, as tenderhearted Daisy stooped +from her knee to lay her rosy cheek against her little cousin’s pale one. +</p> + +<p> +“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.’” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no need for me to say it, for everyone 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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 would outgrow. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope there will be more wheat and fewer tares every year,” said +Amy softly. +</p> + +<p> +“A large sheaf, but I know there’s room in your heart for it, +Marmee dear,” added Meg’s tender voice. +</p> + +<p> +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... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my girls, however long you may live, I never can wish you a greater +happiness than this!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE WOMEN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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