?7.J^ ..,{::.u>iyg^ LOUISA UNIVERSITY OF N.C, AT CHAPEL HILL 00022092977 Little Women Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://www.archive.org/details/littlewomenormegalco They all drew to the fire Frontispiece LITTLE WOMEN OR MEG, JO, BETH, AND AMY BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH NON-REFERT SlAiVAD • a3S BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY Entered according to Act of Congress, in the years 1868 and 1869, by LomsA M. Alcott, In the Clerk's OfEcc of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. Copyright, i8g6, igio, Bv John S. P. Alcott. Copyright, 1915, By Little, Brown, and Company. All rights reserved S. J. Pakkhill (HRISTMAS won't be Christmas without any I presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. ^_^ "It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress. " I don't think it 's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all," added Jittle Amy, with an injured sniff. " We 've got father and mother and each other," said Beth contentedly, from her corner. The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly, — " We have n't got father, and shall not have him for a long time." She did n't say " perhaps never," but each silently added it, thinking of father far away, where the fighting was. Nobody spoke for a minute ; then Meg said in an altered tone, — " You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for every one ; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men 2 Little Women 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 oi'" all the pretty things she wanted. " But I don't think the Httle we should spend would do any good. We 've each got a dollar, and the army would n't be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from mother or you, but I do want to buy Undine and Sintram for myself ; I 've wanted it so long," said Jo, who was a bookworm. " I planned to spend mine in new music," said Beth, with a little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth- brush and kettle-holder. " I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing-pencils ; I really need them," said Amy decidedly. " Mother did n't say anything about our money, and she won't wish us to give up everything. Let 's each buy what we want, and have a little fun ; I 'm sure we work hard enough to earn it," cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner. " I know / do, — teaching those tiresome children nearly all day, when I 'm longing to enjoy myself at home," began Meg, in the complaining tone again. " You don't have half such a hard time as I do," said Jo. " How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till you 're ready to fly out of the window or cry?" " It's naughty to fret; but I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world It makes me cross ; and my hands get so stiff, I can't practise well at all ; " and Beth looked at her rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time. Playing Pilgrims " I don't believe any of you suffer as I do," cried Amy; "for you don't have to go to school with imper- tinent girls, who plague you if you don't know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he is n't rich, and insult you when your nose is n't nice." " If you mean libel, I 'd say so, and not talk about labels, as if papa was a pickle-bottle," advised Jo, laughing. " I know what I mean, and you need n't be statirical about it. It 's proper to use good words, and improve your vocabilary," returned Amy, with dignity. " Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the money papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! how happy and good we'd be, if we had no worries ! " said Meg, who could remember better times. " You said, the other day, you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money." " So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are ; for, though we do have to work, we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say." " Jo does use such slang words ! " observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle. " Don't, Jo ; it 's so boyish ! " " That 's why I do it." " I detest rude, unlady-like girls ! " *' I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits ! " " ' Birds in their little nests agree,' " sang Beth, the peace- maker, with such a funny face that both sharp 4 Little Women voices softened to a laugh, and the " pecking " ended for that time. " Really, girls, you are both to be blamed," said Megs beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. " You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It did n't matter so much when you were a little girl ; but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that you are a young lady." " I'm not ! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I '11 wear it in two tails till I 'm twenty," cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking down a chestnut mane. " I hate to think I 've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys' games and work and manners ! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I 'm dying to go and fight with papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman ! " And Jo shook the blue army-sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room. " Poor Jo! It's too bad, but it can't be helped; so you must try to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls," said Beth, stroking the rough head at her knee with a hand that all the dish-washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch. "As for you, Amy," continued Meg, "you are alto- gether too particular and prim. Your airs are funny now; but you '11 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." Playing Pilgrims " If Jo is a tom-boy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?" asked Beth, ready to share the lecture. " You 're a dear, and nothing else," answered Meg warmly; and no one contradicted her, for the " Mouse " was the pet of the family. As young readers like to know " how people look," we will take this moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable old room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain ; for a good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant atmos- phere of home-peace pervaded it. Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and did n't like it. Elizabeth — or Beth, as every one called her — was a rosy, smooth- haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her " Little Tran- 6 Little Women quilHty," and the name suited her excellently ; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only ven- turing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important per- son, — in her own opinion at least. A regular snow- maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out. The clock struck six ; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls ; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp. Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze. " They are quite worn out ; Marmee must have a new pair." " I thought I 'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth. " No, I shall ! " cried Amy. " I 'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided — " I 'm the man of the family now papa is away, and / shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone." " I '11 tell you what we '11 do," said Beth; " let 's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves." "That's like you, dear! What will we get? "ex- claimed Jo. Playing Pilgrims Every one thought soberly for a minute ; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, " I shall give her a nice pair of gloves." " Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo. " Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth. " I '11 get a little bottle of cologne ; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I '11 have some left to buy my pen- cils," added Amy. " How will we give the things? " asked Meg. " Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our birthdays? " answered Jo. "I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles," said Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea, at the same time. " Let Marmee think we are getting things for our- selves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping to-morrow afternoon, Meg ; there is so much to do about the play for Christmas night," said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back and her nose in the air. " I don't mean to act any more after this time ; I 'm getting too old for such things," observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever about " dressing-up " frolics. " You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are the best actress we 've got, and there '11 be an end of everything if you quit the boards," said Jo. " We ought to rehearse to-night. 8 Little Women Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that." " I can't help it ; I never saw any one faint, and I don't choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I '11 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. "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 melodra- • matic scream which was truly thrilling. Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by machinery; and her " Ow ! " was more suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun, with interest. " It 's no use ! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the audience laugh, don't blame me. Come on, Meg." Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without a single break ; Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect; Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild " Ha ! ha ! " " It 's the best we 've had yet," said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows. " I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You 're a regular Shakespeare ! " exclaimed Playing Pilgrims Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things. •' Not quite," replied Jo modestly. "I do think, 'The Witch's Curse, an Operatic Tragedy,' is rather a nice thing; but I 'd like to try Macbeth, if we only had a trap-door for Banquo. I always wanted to do the killing part. ' Is that a dagger that I see before me ? ' " muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do. " No, it 's the toasting fork, with mother's shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth 's stage-struck ! " cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter. " Glad to find you so merry, my girls," said a cheery voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady, with a " can-I-help-you " look about her which was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and the girls thought the gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world. "Well, dearies, how have you got on to-day? There was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go to- morrow, that I did n't come home to dinner. Has any one called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby." While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy-chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea-table ; Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, overturning, and clatter- ing everything she touched ; Beth trotted to and fro between parlor and kitchen, quiet and busy; while lO Little Women Amy gave directions to every one, as she sat with her hands folded. As they gathered about the table, Mrs, March said, with a particularly happy face, " I 've got a treat for you after supper." A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sun- shine. Beth clapped her hands, regardless of the bis- cuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, " A letter ! a letter ! Three cheers for father ! " " Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls," said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there. " Hurry and get done ! Don't stop to quirk your little finger, and simper over your plate, Amy," cried Jo, choking in her tea, and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet, in her haste to get at the treat. Beth ate no more, but crept away, to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready. " I think it was so splendid in father to go as a chap- lain when he was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier," said Meg warmly. "Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a vivan — what 's its name? or a nurse, so I could be near him and help him," exclaimed Jo, with a groan. " It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug," sighed Amy. " When will he come home, Marmee?" asked Beth, with a little quiver in her voice. " Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He Playing Pilgrims 1 1 will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter." They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the homesick- ness 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. " Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their afi'ection 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 remem- ber 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 was n'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 '11 truly try to be better, so he mayn't be disappointed in me by and by." " We all will ! " cried Meg. " I think too much of my I 2 Little Women looks, and hate to work, but won't any more, if I can help it." " I '11 try and be what he loves to call me, ' a little woman,' and not be rough and wild; but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else," said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South. Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the bltie 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. Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her cheery voice, " Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrim's Progress when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my piece-bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the house-top, where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a Celes- tial City." " What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fight- ing Apollyon, and passing through the Valley where the hobgoblins were ! " said Jo. " I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs," said Meg. " My favorite part was when we came out on the flat roof where our flowers and arbors and pretty things were, and all stood and sung for joy up there in the sunshine," said Beth, smiling, as if that pleasant moment had come back to her. " I don't remember much about it, except that I was Playing Pilgrims 13 afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I 'd rather like to play it over again," said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve. " We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get before father comes home." "Really, mother? Where are our bundles?" asked Amy, who was a very literal young lady. " Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth ; I rather think she has n't got any," said her mother. " Yes, I have ; mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid of people." Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh ; but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much. " Let us do it," said Meg thoughtfully. " It is only another name for trying to be good, and the story may help us ; for though we do want to be good, it 's hard work, and we forget, and don't do our best." " We were in the Slough of Despond to-night, and mother came and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions, like Christian. What shall we do about that?" asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty. 14 Little Women " Look under your pillows, Christmas morning, and you will find your guide-book," replied Mrs. March. They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table ; then out came the four little work- baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but to- night no one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries as they stitched their way through them. At nine they stopped work, and sung, as usual, before they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano ; but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys, and making a pleasant accom- paniment to the simple songs they sung. Meg had a voice like a flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoilt the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp " Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar," and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice, as she went about the house singing like a lark ; and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby. A Merry Christmas 15 CHAPTER II A MERRY CHRISTMAS JO was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christ- mas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was so crammed with goodies. Then she remembered her mother's promise, and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guide-book for any pilgrim going the long journey. She woke Meg with a " Merry Christmas," and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few words written by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke, to rummage and find their little books also, — one dove-colored, the other blue ; and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the coming day. In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given. " Girls," said Meg seriously, looking from the tum- bled 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 1 6 Little Women many things. You can do as you please ; but / shall keep my book on the table here, and read a little every morning as soon as I wake, for I know it will do me good, and help me through the day." Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her, and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face. " How good Meg is ! Come, Amy, let 's do as they do. I '11 help you with the hard words, and they '11 ex- plain things if we don't understand," whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters' example. " I 'm glad mine is blue," said Amy ; and then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting. "Where is mother?" asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later. " Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter come a-beggin', and your ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for givin' away vittles and drink, clothes and firin', " replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant. " She will be back soon, I think ; so fry your cakes, and have everything ready," said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. *' Why, where is Amy's bottle of cologne?" she added, as the little flask did not appear. " She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put a ribbon on it, or some such notion," repHed Jo, A Merry Christmas 17 dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army-slippers. " How nice my handkerchiefs look, don't they? Han- nah washed and ironed them for me, and I marked them all myself," said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labor. " Bless the child ! she 's gone and put ' Mother ' on them instead of ' M. March.' How funny ! " cried Jo, taking up one. "Isn't it right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg's initials are ' M. M.,' and I don't want any one to use these but Marmee," said Beth, looking troubled. " It 's all right, dear, and a very pretty idea, ■ — quite sensible, too, for no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, I know," said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth. " There 's mother. Hide the basket, quick ! " cried Jo, as a door slammed, and steps sounded in the hall. Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her. " Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?" asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early, " Don't laugh at me, Jo ! I did n't mean any one should know till the time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and I 'm truly trying not to be selfish any more." As she spoke. Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one ; and looked so earnest and hum- ble 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. I 8 Little Women " You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this morning, so I ran round the corner and changed it the minute I was up : and I 'm so glad, for mine is the handsomest now," Another bang of the street-door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls to the table, eager for breakfast. " Merry Christmas, Marmee ! Many of them! Thank you for our books ; we read some, and mean to every day," they cried, in chorus. " Merry Christmas, little daughters ! I 'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little new-born baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there ; and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present? " They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke ; only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, — " I 'm so glad you came before we began ! " " May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children ? " asked Beth eagerly. "/shall take the cream and the muffins," added Amy heroically giving up the articles she most liked. Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and pilinj,^ the bread into one big plate. " I thought you 'd do it," said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. " You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinner-time." They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back ^ A Merry Christmas 19 streets, so few people saw them, and no one laugfhed at the queer party. A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken win- dows, no fire, ragged bed-clothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm. How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in ! " Ach, mein Gott ! it is good angels come to us ! " said the poor woman, crying for joy. " Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them laughing. In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls, meantime, spread the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, — laughing, talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English. " Das ist gut ! " " Die Engel-kinder ! " cried the poor things, as they ate, and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a " Sancho " ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast, though they did n't get any of it ; and when they went away, leaving com- fort 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. 20 Little Women ^ " That 's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it," said Meg, as they set out their presents, while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels. Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles ; and the tall vase of red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table. " She 's coming! Strike up, Beth ! Open the door. Amy ! Three cheers for Marmee ! " cried Jo, prancing about, while Meg went to conduct mother to the seat of honor. Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched ; and smiled with her eyes full as she examined her presents, and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy's cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a " perfect fit." There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the simple, loving fashion which makes these home-festivals so pleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterward, and then all fell to work. The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of the day was devoted to prepara- tions for the evening festivities. Being still too young to go often to the theatre, and not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their wits to work, and — necessity being the mother of invention — made whatever they needed. Very clever A Merry Christmas 21 were some of their productions, — pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter-boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cot- ton, glittering with tin spangles from a pickle factory, and armor covered with the same useful diamond-shaped bits, left in sheets when the lids of tin preserve-pots were cut out. The furniture was used to being turned topsy-turvy, and the big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels. No gentlemen were admitted ; so Jo played male parts to her heart's content, and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet-leather boots given her by a friend, who knew a lady who knew an actor. These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some picture, were Jo's chief treasures, and appeared on all occasions. The smallness of the com- pany made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece ; and they certainly de- served 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 be- sides. It was excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, and employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or spent in less profitable society. On Christmas night, a dozen girls piled on to the bed which was the dress-circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp-smoke, and an occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the Operatic Tragedy began. 2 2 Little Women " A gloomy wood," according to the one play-bil\, was represented by a few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor, and a cave in the distance. This cave was made with a clothes-horse for a roof, bureaus for walls ; and in it was a small furnace in full blast, with a black pot on it, and an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark, and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside ; then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at his side, a slouched hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain, sing- ing of his hatred to Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, with an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, were very impres- sive, 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 ! " Out came Meg, with gray horse-hair hanging about her face, a red and black robe, a staff, and cabalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love philter : — " Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come ! Born of roses, fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew ? A Merry Christmas 23 Bring me here, with elfin speed, The fragrant philter which I need; Make it sweet and swift and strong, Spirit, answer now my song ! " A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave appeared a little figure in cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Waving a wand, it sang, — " Hither I come, From my airy home. Afar in the silver moon. Take the magic spell. And use it well, Or its power will vanish soon ! " And, dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch's feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar pro- duced another apparition, — not a lovely one ; for, with a bang, an ugly black imp appeared, and, having croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo, and disappeared with a mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his boots, Hugo departed ; and Hagar informed the audience that, as he had killed a few of her friends in times past, she has cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play. A good deal of hammering went on before the cur- tain rose again ; but when it became evident what a masterpiece of stage-carpentering had been got up, no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb ! A tower rose to the ceiling ; half-way up appeared a window, with a lamp burning at it, and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous 24 Little Women array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut love-locks, a guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied, and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced a rope-ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she c^ept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoul- der, and was about to leap gracefully down, when, "Alas! alas for Zara!" she forgot her train, — it caught in the window ; the tower tottered, leaned forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins ! A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck, and a golden head emerged, exclaiming, " I told you so ! I told you so ! " With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty aside, — "Don't laugh! Act as if it was all right!" — and, ordering Roderigo up, banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall of the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old gentleman, and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara : she also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. A stout little retainer came in with chains, and led them away, looking very much frightened, and evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have made. Act third was the castle hall ; and here Hagar ap- peared, 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 A Merry Christmas 25 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 stamp- ing, falls flat and dies ; while Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisite power and melody. This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought that the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long hair rather marred the effect of the villain's death. He was called before the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing was considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put together. Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing himself, because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, a lovely song is sung under his window, informing him that Zara is true, but in danger, and he can save her, if he will. A key is thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in a spasm of rapture he tears off Eis chains, and rushes away to find and rescue his lady-love. Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into a convent, but she won't hear of it ; and, after a touching appeal, is about to faint, when Roderigo dashes in and demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and gesticulate tremendously, but cannot agree, and Roderigo is about to bear away the ex- hausted 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 2 6 Little Women bequeaths untold wealth to the young pair, and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he does n'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. Tumultuous applause followed, but received an un- expected check ; for the cot-bed, on which the " dress- circle " was built, suddenly shut up, and extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though many were speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided, when Hannah appeared, with " Mrs. March's compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper." This was a surprise, even to the actors ; and, when they saw the table, they looked at one another in raptur- ous amazement. It was like Marmee to get up a little treat for them ; but anything so fine as this was unheard- of since the departed days of plenty. There was ice- cream, — actually two dishes of it, pink and white, — and cake and fruit and distracting French bonbons, and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot- house flowers ! It quite took their breath away; and they stared first at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely. " Is it fairies? " asked Amy. " It 's Santa Claus," said Beth. "Mother did it; " and Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray beard and white eyebrows. A Merry Christmas 27 " Aunt March had a good fit, and sent the supper," cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration. " All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it," replied Mrs. March. " The Laurence boy's grandfather ! What in the world put such a thing into his head? We don't know him ! " exclaimed Meg. " Hannah told one of his servants about your break- fast party. He is an odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my father, years ago ; and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse ; and so you have a little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk breakfast." " That boy put it into his head, I know he did ! He 's a capital fellow, and I wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if he 'd like to know us ; but he 's bashful, and Meg is so prim she won't let me speak to him when we pass," said Jo, as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt out of sight, with " Ohs ! " and " Ahs ! " of satisfaction. " You mean the people who live in the big house next door, don't you?" asked one of the girls. "My mother knows old Mr. Laurence ; but says he 's very proud, and does n't like to mix with his neighbors. He keeps his grandson shut up, when he is n't riding or walking with his tutor, and makes him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he did n't come. Mother says he 's very nice, though he never speaks to us girls." " Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence, and were getting on 2 8 Little Women 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. " I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentle- man ; so I 've no objection to your knowing him, if a proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself; and I should have asked him in, if I had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away, hearing the frolic, and evidently having none of his own." " It's a mercy you did n't, mother ! " laughed Jo, look- ing at her boots. " But we '11 have another play, some- time, that he cati see. Perhaps he '11 help act ; would n't that be jolly?" " I never had such a fine bouquet before ! How pretty it is ! " And Meg examined her flowers with great interest. " They are lovely ! But Beth's roses are sweeter to me," said Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt. Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, " I wish I could send my bunch to father. I 'm afraid he is n't having such a merry Christmas as we are." CHAPTER III THE LAURENCE BOY *' TO! Jo! where are you ? " cried Meg, at the foot of I the garret stairs. %J " Here ! " answered a husky voice from above ; and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and The Laurence Boy 29 crying over the " Heir of Redclyffe," wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny win- dow. 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 did n't mind her a particle. As Meg ap- peared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks, and waited to hear the news. " Such fun ! only see ! a regular note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for to-morrow night ! " cried Meg, waving the precious paper, and then proceeding to read it, with girlish delight. " ' Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New-Year's Eve.* Marmee is willing we should go ; now what shall we wear? " " What 's the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins, because we have n't got anything else?" answered Jo, with her mouth full. " If I only had a silk ! " sighed Meg. " Mother says I may when I 'm eighteen, perhaps ; but two years is an everlasting time to wait." " I 'm sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us. Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn and the tear in mine. Whatever shall I do ? the burn shows badly, and I can't take any out." " You must sit still all you can, and keep your back out of sight ; the front is all right. I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, and Marmee will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and my gloves will do, though they are n't as nice as I'd like." " Mine are spoilt with lemonade, and I can't get any new ones, so I shall have to go without," said Jo, who never troubled herself much about dress. 30 Little Women " You must have gloves, or I won't go," cried Meg decidedly. " Gloves are more important than anything else ; you can't dance without them, and if you don't I should be so mortified." " Then I '11 stay still. I don't care much for com- pany dancing; it's no fun to go sailing round; I like to fly about and cut capers." " You can't ask mother for new ones, they are so ex- pensive, and you are so careless. She said, when you spoilt the others, that she should n't get you any more this winter. Can't you make them do?" asked Meg anxiously. " I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will know how stained they are ; that 's all I can do. No ! I '11 tell you how we can manage — each wear one good one and carry a bad one; don't you see?" " Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glove dreadfully," began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her. "Then I'll go without. I don't care what people say ! " cried Jo, taking up her book. " You may have it, you may ! only don't stain it, and do behave nicely. Don't put your hands behind you, or stare, or say ' Christopher Columbus ! ' will you? " '' Don't worry about me ; I '11 be as prim as I can, and not get into any scrapes, if I can help it. Now go and answer your note, and let me finish this splendid story." So Meg went away to " accept with thanks," look over her dress, and .sing blithely as she did up her one real lace frill; while Jo finished her story, her four apples, and had a game of romps with Scrabble. On New- Year's Eve the parlor was deserted, for the two younger girls played dressing-maids, and the two elder were absorbed in the all- important business of The Laurence Boy 3 i *' getting ready for the party." Simple as the toilets were, there was a great deal of running up and down, laughing and talking, and at one time a strong smell of burnt hair pervaded the house. Meg wanted a few curls about her face, and Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs. "Ought they to smoke like that?" asked Beth, from her perch on the bed. " It 's the dampness drying," replied Jo. " What a queer smell ! it 's like burnt feathers," ob- served Amy, smoothing her own pretty curls with a superior air. " There, now I '11 take off the papers and you '11 see a cloud of little ringlets," said Jo, putting down the tongs. She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared, for the hair came with the papers, and the horrified hair-dresser laid a row of little scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim. "Oh, oh, oh ! what have you done? I'm spoilt! I can't go ! My hair, oh, my hair ! " wailed Meg, looking with despair at the uneven frizzle on her forehead. "Just my luck ! you should n't have asked me to do it; I always spoil everything. I 'm so sorry, but the tongs were too hot, and so I 've made a mess," groaned poor Jo, regarding the black pancakes with tears of regret. "It isn't spoilt; just frizzle it, and tie your ribbon so the ends come on your forehead a bit, and it will look like the last fashion. I 've seen many girls do it so," said Amy consolingly. " Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I 'd let my hair alone," cried Meg petulantly. " So do I, it was so smooth and pretty. But it will soon grow out again," said Beth, coming to kiss and comfort the shorn sheep. 3 2 Little Women After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united exertions of the family Jo's hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits, — Meg in silvery drab, with a blue velvet snood, lace frills, and a pearl pin ; Jo in maroon, with a stiff, gentlemanly linen collar, and a white chrysan- themum or two for her only ornament. Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, and all pronounced the effect " quite easy and fine." Meg's high-heeled slippers were very tight, and hurt her, though she would not own it, and Jo's nineteen hair- pins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable ; but, dear me, let us be elegant or die ! " Have a good time, dearies ! " said Mrs. March, as the sisters went daintily down the walk. " Don't eat much supper, and come away at eleven, when I send Hannah for you." As the gate clashed behind them, a voice cried from a window, — " Girls, girls ! have you both got nice pocket-handker- chiefs?" " Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers," cried Jo, adding, with a laugh, as they went on, " I do believe Marmee would ask that if we were all running away from an earthquake." " It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a real lady is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief," replied Meg, who had a good many little " aristocratic tastes " of her own. " Now don't forget to keep the bad breadth out of sight, Jo. Is my sash right? and does my hair look 7/\/ Jo?" asked Meg, one snowy afternoon, as T T her sister came tramping through the hall, in rubber boots, old sack and hood, with a broom in one hand and a shovel in the other. " Going out for exercise," answered Jo, with a mis^ chievous twinkle in her eyes, " I should think two long walks this morning would have been enough! It's cold and duh out; and I advise you to stay, warm and dry, by the fire, as I do," said Meg, with a shiver. "Never take advice! Can't keep still all day, and, not being a pussy-cat, I don't like to doze by the fire. I like adventures, and I 'm going to find some." Meg went back to toast her feet and read " Ivanhoe"; and Jo began to dig paths with great energy. The snow was light, and with her broom she soon swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to walk in when the sun came out; and the invalid dolls needed air. Now, the garden separated the Marches' house from that of Mr. Laurence. Both stood in a suburb of the city, which was still country-like, with groves and lawns, large gardens, and quiet streets. A low hedge parted the two estates. On one side was an old, brown house, looking rather bare and shabby, robbed of the vines that in summer covered its walls, and the flowers which then surrounded it. On the other side was a stately stone mansion, plainly betokening every sort of comfort and luxury, from the big coach-house and well-kept 58 Little Women grounds to the conservatory and the glimpses of lovely things one caught between the rich curtains. Yet it seemed a lonely, lifeless sort of house ; for no children frolicked on the lawn, no motherly face ever smiled at the windows, and few people went in and out, except the old gentleman and his grandson. To Jo's lively fancy, this fine house seemed a kind of enchanted palace, full of splendors and delights, which no one enjoyed. She had long wanted to behold these hidden glories, and to know the " Laurence boy," who looked as if he would like to be known, if he only knew how to begin. Since the party, she had been more eager than ever, and had planned many ways of making friends with him ; but he had not been seen lately, and Jo began to think he had gone away, when she one day spied a brown face at an upper window, looking wist- fully down into their garden, where Beth and Amy were snowballing one another. " That boy is suffering for society and fun," she said to herself " His grandpa does not know what 's good for him, and keeps him shut up all alone. He needs a party of jolly boys to play with, or somebody young and lively. I 've a great mind to go over and tell the old gentleman so ! " The idea amused Jo, who liked to do daring things, and was always scandalizing Meg by her queer perform- ances. The plan of " going over " was not forgotten ; and when the snowy afternoon came, Jo resolved to try what could be done. She saw Mr. Laurence drive off, and then sallied out to dig her way down to the hedge, where she paused, and took a survey. All quiet, — cur- tains down at the lower windows ; servants out of sight, and nothing human visible but a curly black head lean- ing on a thin hand at the upper window. I Being Neighborly 59 " There he is," thought Jo, " poor boy ! all alone and sick this dismal day. It 's a shame ! I '11 toss up a snow- ball, and make him look out, and then say a kind word to him." Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a face which lost its listless look in a minute, as the big eyes brightened and the mouth began to smile. Jo nodded and laughed, and flourished her broom as she called out, — " How do you do? Are you sick? " Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven, — *' Better, thank you. I 've had a bad cold, and been shut up a week." " I 'm sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?" " Nothing; it's as dull as tombs up here." "Don't you read?" "Not much; they won't let me." " Can't somebody read to you? " " Grandpa does, sometimes ; but my books don't in- terest him, and I hate to ask Brooke all the time." " Have some one come and see you, then." " There is n't any one I 'd like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head is weak." " Is n't there some nice girl who 'd read and amuse you? Girls are quiet, and like to play nurse." " Don't know any." "You know us," began Jo, then laughed, and stopped. " So I do ! Will you come, please? " cried Laurie. "I'm not quiet and nice; but I'll come, if mother will let me. I '11 go ask her. Shut that window, like a good boy, and wait till I come." With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house, wondering what they would all say to her. 6o Little Women Laurie was In a flutter of excitement at the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready ; for, as Mrs. March said, he was " a little gentleman," and did honor to the coming guest by brushing his curly pate, putting on a fresh collar, and trying to tidy up the room, which, in spite of half a dozen servants, was anything but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, then a decided voice, asking for " Mr. Laurie," and a surprised- looking servant came running up to announce a young lady. "All right, show her up, it's Miss Jo," said Laurie, going to the door of his little parlor to meet Jo, who appeared, looking rosy and kind and quite at her ease, with a covered dish in one hand and Beth's three kittens in the other. " Here I am, bag and baggage," she said briskly. " Mother sent her love, and was glad if I could do any- thing 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 could n't refuse, she was so anxious to do something. " It so happened that Beth's funny loan was just the thing; for, in laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his bashfulness, and grew sociable at once. "That looks too pretty to eat," he said, smiling with pleasure, as Jo uncovered the dish, and showed the blanc-mange, surrounded by a garland of green leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy's pet geranium. " It is n'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 cosey room this is ! " Being Neighborly 6l " It might be if it was kept nice ; but the maids are lazy, and I don't know how to make them mind. It worries me, though." " I '11 right it up in two minutes ; for it only needs to have the hearth brushed, so, — and the things made straight on the mantel-piece, so, — and the books put here, and the bottles there, and your sofa turned from the light, and the pillows plumped up a bit. Now, then, you 're fixed." And so he was ; for, as she laughed and talked, Jo had whisked things into place, and given quite a different air to the room. Laurie watched her in respectful silence ; and when she beckoned him to his sofa, he sat down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying gratefully, — " How kind you are ! Yes, that 's what it wanted. Now please take the big chair, and let me do something to amuse my company." "No; I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?" and Jo looked affectionately toward some inviting books near by. " Thank you ; I 've read all those, and if you don't mind, I 'd rather talk," answered Laurie. " Not a bit ; I '11 talk all day if you '11 only set me going. Beth says I never know when to stop." " Is Beth the rosy one, who stays at home a good deal, and sometimes goes out with a little basket?" asked Laurie, with interest. " Yes, that 's Beth ; she 's my girl, and a regular good one she is, too." " The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is Amy, I believe? " " How did you find that out? " Laurie colored up, but answered frankly, " Why, you 62 Little Women see, I often hear you calling to one another, and when I 'm alone up here, I can't help looking over at your house, you always seem to be having such good times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, but sometimes you forget to put down the curtain at the window where the flowers are ; and when the lamps are lighted, it 's like looking at a picture to see the fire, and you all round the table with your mother ; her face is right opposite, and it looks so sweet behind the flowers, I can't help watching it. I haven't got any mother, you know; " and Laurie poked the fire to hide a little twitching of the lips that he could not control. The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to Jo's warm heart. She had been so simply taught that there was no nonsense in her head, and at fifteen she was as innocent and frank as any child. Laurie was sick and lonely ; and, feeling how rich she was in home-love and happiness, she gladly tried to share it with him. Her face was very friendly and her sharp voice unusually gentle as she said, — " We '11 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 / begged her to, and Amy would dance ; Meg and I would make you laugh over our funny stage properties, and we'd have jolly times. Wouldn't your grandpa let you?" " I think he would, if your mother asked him. He 's very kind, though he does not look so ; and he lets me do what I like, pretty much, only he 's afraid I might be a bother to strangers," began Laurie, brightening more and more. " We are not strangers, we are neighbors, and you Being Neighborly 63 need n'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 have n't been here a great while, you know, but we have got acquainted with all our neighbors but you." " You see grandpa lives among his books, and doesn't mind much what happens outside. Mr. Brooke, my tutor, does n't stay here, you know, and I have no one to go about with me, so I just stop at home and get on as I can." " That 's bad. You ought to make an effort, and go visiting everywhere you are asked ; then you '11 have plenty of friends, and pleasant places to go to. Never mind being bashful ; it won't last long if you keep going." Laurie turned red again, but was n't offended at being accused of bashfulness ; for there was so much good-will in Jo, it was impossible not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant. " Do you like your school? " asked the boy, changing the subject, after a little pause, during which he stared at the fire, and Jo looked about her, well pleased. " Don't go to school ; I 'm a business man — girl, I mean. I go to wait on my great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too," answered Jo. Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question ; but remembering just in time that it was n't manners to make too many inquiries into people's affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable. Jo liked his good breeding, and didn't mind having a laugh at Aunt March, so she gave him a lively description of the fidgety old lady, her fat poodle, the parrot that talked Spanish, and the library where she revelled. Laurie enjoyed that immensely ; and when she told about the prim old gentleman who came once to woo Aunt March, and, in the middle of a fine 64 Little Women 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. " Oh ! that does me no end of good. Tell on, please," he said, taking his face out of the sofa-cushion, red and shining with merriment. Much elated with her success, Jo did "tell on," all about their plays and plans, their hopes and fears tor father, and the most interesting events of the little world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to talking about books ; and to Jo's delight, she found that Laurie loved them as well as she did, and had read even more than herself. " If you like them so much, come down and see ours. Grandpa is out, so you need n't be afraid," said Laurie, getting up. " I'm not afraid of anything," returned Jo, with a toss of the head. " I don't believe you are ! " exclaimed the boy, look- ing at her with much admiration, though he privately thought she would have good reason to be a trifle afraid of the old gentleman, if she met him in some of his moods. The atmosphere of the whole house being summer- like, Laurie led the way from room to room, letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her fancy ; and so at last they came to the library, where she clapped her hands, and pranced, as she always did when especially delighted. It was lined with books, and there were pictures and statues, and distracting little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and sleepy-hollow chairs, and queer tables, and bronzes ; and, best of all, a great open fireplace, with quaint tiles all round it. Being Neighborly 6j " What richness ! " sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velvet chair, and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction. " Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world," she added im- pressively. " A fellow can't live on books," said Laurie, shaking his head, as he perched on a table opposite. Before he could say more, a bell rung, and Jo flew up, exclaiming with alarm, "Mercy me! it's your grandpa ! " " Well, what if it is? You are not afraid of anything, you know," returned the boy, looking wicked. " I think I am a little bit afraid of him, but I don't know why I should be. Marmee said I might come, and I don't think you 're any the worse for it," said Jo, composing herself, though she kept her eyes on the door. " Lm a great deal better for it, and ever so much obliged. I 'm only afraid you arc very tired talking to me ; it was so pleasant, I could n't bear to stop," said Laurie gratefully. " The doctor to see you, sir," and the maid beckoned as she spoke. "Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I sup- pose I must see him," said Laurie. " Don't mind me. I 'm as happy as a cricket here," answered Jo. Laurie went away, and his guest amused herself in her own way. She was standing before a fine portrait of the old gentleman, when the door opened again, and, without turning, she said decidedly, " I 'm sure now that I should n'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 is n't as handsome -as my grandfather, but I like him." 5 66 Little Women "Thank you, ma'am," said a gruff voice behind her; and there, to her great dismay, stood old Mr. Laurence. Poor Jo bhished till she could n't blush any redder, and her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast as she thought what she had said. For a minute a wild desire to run away possessed her ; but that was cowardly, and the girls would laugh at her : so she resolved to stay, and get out of the scrape as she could. A second look showed her that the living eyes, under the bushy gray eyebrows, were kinder even than the painted ones; and there was a sly twinkle in them, which lessened her fear a good deal. The gruff voice was gruffer than ever, as the old gentleman said abruptly, after that dreadful pause, "So you're not afraid of me, hey?" "Not much, sir." " And you don't think me as handsome as your grand- father?" " Not quite, sir." " And I 've got a tremendous will, have I? " " I only said I thought so." " But you like me, in spite of it? " "Yes, I do, sir." That answer pleased the old gentleman ; he gave a short laugh, shook hands with her, and, putting his finger under her chin, turned up her face, examined it gravely, and let it go, saying, with a nod, " You 've got your grandfather's spirit, if you have n'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." "Thank you, sir;" and Jo was quite comfortable after that, for it suited her exactly. "What have you been doing to this boy of mine, hey?" was the next question, sharply put, Being Neighborly 67 " Only trying to be neighborly, sir ; " and Jo told hovw her visit came about. "You think he needs cheering up a bit, do you?" "Yes, sir; he seems a little lonely, and young folks would do him good perhaps. We are only girls, but we should be glad to help if we could, for we don't forget the splendid Christmas present you sent us," said Jo eagerly, " Tut, tut, tut ! that was the boy's affair. How is the poor woman? " "Doing nicely, sir;" and off went Jo, talking very fast, as she told all about the Hummels, in whom her mother had interested richer friends than they were. " Just her father's way of doing good. I shall come and see your mother some fine day. Tell her so. There 's the tea-bell ; we have it early, on the boy's account. Come down, and go on being neighborly." " If you 'd like to have me, sir." " Should n't ask you, if I did n't; " and Mr. Laurence offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy. "What would Meg say to this?" thought Jo, as she was marched away, while her eyes danced with fun as she imagined herself telling the story at home. " Hey ! Why, what the dickens has come to the fellow?" said the old gentleman, as Laurie came run- ning downstairs, and brought up with a start of surprise at the astonishing sight of Jo arm-in-arm with his re- doubtable grandfather. " I did n't know you 'd come, sir," he began, as Jo gave him a triumphant little glance. " 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 68 Little Women of comic evolutions behind their backs, which nearly produced an explosion of laughter from Jo. The old gentleman did not say much as he drank his four cups of tea, but he watched the young people, who soon chatted away like old friends, and the change in his grandson did not escape him. There was color, light, and life in the boy's face now, vivacity in his manner, and genuine merriment in his laugh. " She's right; the lad is lonely. I '11 see what these little girls can do for him," thought Mr. Laurence, as he looked and listened. He liked Jo, for her odd, blunt ways suited him ; and she seemed to understand the boy almost as well as if she had been one herself. If the Laurences had been what Jo called " prim and poky," she would not have got on at all, for such people always made her shy and awkward; but finding them free and easy, she was so herself, and made a good impression. When they rose she proposed to go, but Laurie said he had something more to show her, and took her away to the conservatory, which had been lighted for her benefit. It seemed quite fairylike to Jo, as she went up and down the walks, enjoying the bloom- ing walls on either side, the soft light, the damp sweet air, and the wonderful vines and trees that hung above her, — while her new friend cut the finest flowers till his hands were full ; then he tied them up, saying, with the happy look Jo liked to see, " Please give these to your mother, and tell her I like the medicine she sent me very much." They found Mr. Laurence standing before the fire in the great drawing-room, but Jo's attention was entirely absorbed by a grand piano, which stood open. " Do you play?" she asked, turning to Laurie with a respectful expression. Being Neighborly 69 " Sometimes," he answered modestly. " Please do now. I want to hear it, so I can tell Beth." " Won't you first? " "Don't know how; too stupid to learn, but I love music dearly." So Laurie played, and Jo listened, with her nose luxuriously buried in heliotrope and tea-roses. Her re- spect and regard for the " Laurence boy " increased very much, for he played remarkably well, and did n't put on any airs. She wished Beth could hear him, but she did not say so ; only praised him till he was quite abashed, and his grandfather came to the rescue. " That will do, that will do, young lady. Too many sugar-plums are not good for him. His music is n'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 '11 come again. My respects to your mother. Good-night, Doctor Jo." He shook hands kindly, but looked as if something did not please him. When they got into the hall, Jo asked Laurie if she had said anything amiss. He shook his head. " No, it was me ; he does n't like to hear me play." "Why not?" " I '11 tell you some day. John is going home with you, as I can't." " No need of that ; I am not a young lady, and it 's only a step. Take care of yourself, won't you? " "Yes; but you will come again, I hope? " " If you promise to come and see us after you are well.' " I will." " Good-night, Laurie ! " " Good-night, Jo, good-night ! " When all the afternoon's adventures had been told, the 70 Little Women family felt inclined to go visiting in a body, for each found something very attractive in the big house on the other side of the hedge. Mrs. March wanted to talk of her father with the old man who had not forgotten him ; Meg longed to walk in the conservatory ; Beth sighed for the grand piano ; and Amy was eager to see the fine pictures and statues. " Mother, why did n't Mr. Laurence like to have Laurie play?" asked Jo, who was of an inquiring disposition. " I am not sure, but I think it was because his son, Laurie's father, married an Italian lady, a musician, which displeased the old man, who is very proud. The lady was good and lovely and accomplished, but he did not like her, and never saw his son after he married. They both died when Laurie was a little child, and then his grandfather took him home. I fancy the boy, who was born in Italy, is not very strong, and the old man is afraid of losing him, which makes him so careful. Laurie comes naturally by his love of music, for he is like his mother, and I dare say his grandfather fears that he may want to be a musician ; at any rate, his skill reminds him of the woman he did not like, and so he ' glowered,' as Jo said." " Dear me, how romantic ! " exclaimed Meg. " How silly ! " said Jo. " Let him be a musician, if he wants to, and not plague his life out sending him to college, when he hates to go." " That 's why he has such handsome black eyes and pretty manners, I suppose. Italians are always nice," said Meg, who was a little sentimental. " What do you know about his eyes and his manners? You never spoke to him, hardly," cried Jo, who was 7iot sentimental. " I saw him at the party, and what you tell shows that I Being Neighborly 71 he knows how to behave. That was a nice little speech about the medicine mother sent him." " He meant the blanc-mange, I suppose." " How stupid you are, child ! He meant you, of course." " Did he? " and Jo opened her eyes as if it had never occurred to her before. " I never saw such a girl ! You don't know a com- pliment when you get it," said Meg, with the air of a young lady who knew all about the matter. " I think they are great nonsense, and I '11 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 '11 all be good to him, because he has n't got any mother, and he may come over and see us, may n't he, Marmee? " " Yes, Jo, your little friend is very welcome, and I hope Meg will remember that children should be chil- dren as long as they can." " I don't call myself a child, and I 'm not in my teens yet," observed Amy. " What do you say, Beth?" " I was thinking about our ' Pilgrim's Progress,' " an- swered Beth, who had not heard a word. " How we got out of the Slough and through the Wicket Gate by re- solving to be good, and up the steep hill by trying; and that may be the house over there, full of splendid things, is going to be our Palace Beautiful." " We have got to get by the lions, first," said Jo, as if she rather liked the prospect 72 Little Women CHAPTER VI BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL THE big house did prove a Palace Beautiful, though it took some time for all to get in, and Beth found it very hard to pass the lions. Old Mr. Laurence was the biggest one; but after he had called, said something funny or kind to each one of the girls, and talked over old times with their mother, nobody felt much afraid of him, except timid Beth. The other lion was the fact that they were poor and Laurie rich ; for this made them shy of accepting favors which they could not return. But, after a while, they found that he considered them the benefactors, and could not do enough to show how grateful he was for Mrs. March's motherly welcome, their cheerful so- ciety, and the comfort he took in that humble home of theirs. So they soon forgot their pride, and inter- changed kindnesses without stopping to think which was the greater. All sorts of pleasant things happened about that time ; for the new friendship flourished like grass in spring. Every one liked Laurie, and he privately informed his tutor that " the Marches were regularly splendid girls." With the delightful enthusiasm of youth, they took the solitary boy into their midst, and made much of him, and he found something very charming in the innocent companionship of these simple-hearted girls. Never having known mother or sisters, he was quick to feel the influences they brought about him ; and their busy, lively ways made him ashamed of the indolent life he led. He was tired of books, and found people so inter- Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful 73 esting now that Mr. Brooke was obliged to make very unsatisfactory reports; for Laurie was always playing truant, and running over to the Marches'. " Never mind ; let him take a holiday, and make it up afterwards," said the old gentleman. " The good lady next door says he is studying too hard, and needs young society, amusement, and exercise. I suspect she is right, and that I 've been coddUng the fellow as if I 'd been his grandmother. Let him do what he likes, as long as he is happy. He can't get into mischief in that little nunnery over there ; and Mrs. March is doing more for him than we can." What good times they had, to be sure ! Such plays and tableaux, such sleigh-rides and skating frolics, such pleasant evenings in the old parlor, and now and then such gay little parties at the great house. Meg could walk in the conservatory whenever she liked, and revel in bouquets ; Jo browsed over the new library vora- ciously, and convulsed the old gentleman with her criticisms ; Amy copied pictures, and enjoyed beauty to her heart's content; and Laurie played " lord of the manor " in the most delightful style. But Beth, though yearning for the grand piano, could not pluck up courage to go to the " Mansion of Bliss," as Meg called it. She went once with Jo ; but the old gentleman, not being aware of her infirmity, stared at her so hard from under his heavy eyebrows, and said " Hey ! " so loud, that he frightened her so much her " feet chattered on the floor," she told her mother; and she ran away, declaring she would never go there any more, not even for the dear piano. No persuasions or enticements could overcome her fear, till, the fact com- ing to Mr. Laurence's ear in some mysterious way, he set about mending matters. During one of the brief 74 Little Women 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 anec- dotes 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 listen- ing, with her great eyes wide open, and her cheeks red with the excitement of this unusual performance. Tak- ing no more notice of her than if she had bec^ ^ fly, Mr. Laurence talked on about Laurie's lessons and teachers; and presently, as if the idea had just occurred to him, he said to Mrs. March, — " The boy neglects his music now, and I 'm glad of it, for he was getting too fond of it. But the piano suffers for v/ant of use. Would n'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? " Beth took a step forward, and pressed her hands tightly together to keep from clapping them, for this was an irresistible temptation ; and the thought of practising on that splendid instrument quite took her breath away. Before Mrs. March could reply, Mr. Laurence went on with an odd little nod and smile, — "They need n't see or speak to any one, but run in at any time ; for I 'm shut up in my study at the other end of the house, Laurie is out a great deal, and the servants are never near the drawing-room after nine o'clock." Here he rose, as if going, and Beth made up her mind to speak, for that last arrangement left nothing to be desired. " Please tell the young ladies what I say ; and if they don't care to come, why, never mitd." Here a little hand slipped into his, and Beth lookc:! up at him with a face full of gratitude, as shf said, in her earnest yet timid way, — Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful 75 " O sir, they do care, very, very much ! " "Are you the musical girl?" he asked, without any startling " Hey ! " as he looked down at her very kindly. " I'm Beth. I love it dearly, and I '11 come, if you are quite sure nobody will hear me — and be disturbed," she added, fearing to be rude, and trembling at her own boldness as she spoke. " Not a soul, my dear. The house is empty half the day; so come, and drum away as much as you like, and I shall be obliged to you." " How kind you are, sir ! " Beth blushed like a rose under the friendly look he wore ; but she was not frightened now, and gave the big hand a grateful squeeze, because she had no words to thank him for the precious gift he had given her. The old gentleman softly stroked the hair off her fore- head, and, stooping down, he kissed her, saying, in a tone few people ever heard, — " I had a little girl once, with eyes like these. God bless you, my dear ! Good day, madam ; " and away he went, in a great hurry. Beth had a rapture with her mother, and then rushed up to impart the glorious news to her family of invalids, as the girls were not at home. How blithely she sung that evening, and how they all laughed at her, because she woke Amy in the night by playing the piano on her face in her sleep. Next day, having seen both the old and young gentleman out of the house, Beth, after two or three retreats, fairly got in at the side-door, and made her way, as noiselessly as any mouse, to the drawing- room, where her idol stood. Quite by accident, of course, some pretty, easy music lay on the piano ; and, with trembling fingers, and frequent stops to listen and look 76 Little Women about, Beth at last touched the great instrument, and straightway forgot her fear, herself, and everything else but the unspeakable delight which the music gave her, for it was like the voice of a beloved friend. She stayed till Hannah came to take her home to din- ner; but she had no appetite, and could only sit and smile upon every one in a general state of beatitude. After that, the Httle brown hood slipped through the hedge nearly every day, and the great drawing-room was haunted by a tuneful spirit that came and went unseen. She never knew that Mr. Laurence often opened his study-door to hear the old-fashioned airs he liked ; she never saw Laurie mount guard in the hall to warn the servants away; she never suspected that the exercise- books and new songs which she found in the rack were put there for her especial benefit ; and when he talked to her about music at home, she only thought how kind he was to tell things that helped her so much. So she enjoyed herself heartily, and found, what is n'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. " Mother, I 'm going to work Mr. Laurence a pair of slippers. He is so kind to me, I must thank him, and I don't know any other way. Can I do it?" asked Beth, a few weeks after that eventful call of his. " Yes, dear. It will please him very much, and be a nice way of thanking him. The girls will help you about them, and I will pay for the making up," replied Mrs. March, who took peculiar pleasure in granting Beth's requests, because she so seldom asked anything for herself. After many serious discussions with Meg and Jo, the The great drawing-room was haunted by a tuneful spirit that came and went unseen Page 76 Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful 77 pattern was chosen, the materials bought, and the sHppers begun. A cluster of grave yet cheerful pansies, on a deeper purple ground, was pronounced very appropriate and pretty; and Beth worked away early and late, with occasional lifts over hard parts. She was a nimble little needle-woman, and they were finished before any one got tired of them. Then she wrote a very short, simple note, and, with Laurie's help, got them smuggled on to the study-table one morning before the old gentleman was up. When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen. All that day passed, and a part of the next, before any acknowledgment arrived, and she was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety friend. On the afternoon of the second day, she went out to do an errand, and give poor Joanna, the invalid doll, her daily exercise. As she came up the street, on her return, she saw three, yes, four, heads popping in and out of the parlor windows, and the moment they saw her, several hands were waved, and several joyful voices screamed, — " Here 's a letter from the old gentleman ! Come quick, and read it ! " " O Beth, he 's sent you — " began Amy, gesticulating with unseemly energy ; but she got no further, for Jo quenched her by slamming down the window. Beth hurried on in a flutter of suspense. At the door, her sisters seized and bore her to the parlor in a triumphal procession, all pointing, and all saying at once, " Look there ! look there ! " Beth did look, and turned pale with delight and surprise ; for there stood a little cabinet- piano, with a letter lying on the glossy lid, directed, like a sign-board, to " Miss Elizabeth March." "For me?" gasped Beth, holding on to Jo, and feel- 78 Little Women ing as if she should tumble down, it was such an over- whelming thing altogether. " Yes; all for you, my precious ! Isn't it splendid of him? Don't you think he 's the dearest old man in the world? Here 's the key in the letter. We did n't open it, but we are dying to know what he says," cried Jo, hugging her sister, and offering the note. " You read it ! I can't, I feel so queer ! Oh, it is too lovely ! " and Beth hid her face in Jo's apron, quite up- set by her present. Jo opened the paper, and began to laugh, for the first words she saw were, — " Miss March ; " Dear Madam, — " " How nice it sounds ! I wish some one would write to me so ! " said Amy, who thought the old-fashioned address very elegant. " * I have had many pairs of slippers in my life, but I never had any that suited me so well as yours,' " continued Jo. " ' Heart's-ease is my favorite flower, and these will always remind me of the gentle giver. I like to pay my debts ; so I know you will allow " the old gentleman " to send you some- thing which once belonged to the little granddaughter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain " ' Your grateful friend and humble servant, " ' James Laurence.' " "There, Beth, that's an honor to be proud of, I'm sure ! Laurie told me how fond Mr. Laurence used to be of the child who died, and how he kept all her little things carefully. Just think, he 's given you her piano. That comes of having big blue eyes and loving music," Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful 79 said Jo, trying to soothe Beth, who trembled, and looked more excited than she had ever been before. " See the cunning brackets to hold candles, and the nice green silk, puckered up, with a gold rose in the middle, and the pretty rack and stool, all complete," added Meg, opening the instrument and displa}'ing its beauties. " * Your humble servant, James Laurence ' ; only think of his writing that to you. I'll tell the girls. They'll think it 's splendid," said Amy, much impressed by the note, " Try it, honey. Let 's hear the sound of the baby- pianny," said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows. So Beth tried it ; and every one pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie order; but, perfect as it was, I think the real charm of it lay in the happiest of all happy faces which leaned over it, as Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright pedals. " You '11 have to go and thank him," said Jo, by way of a joke ; for the idea of the child's really going never entered her head. " Yes, I mean to. I guess I '11 go now, before I get frightened thinking about it." And, to the utter amaze- ment of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Lau- rences' door. " Well, I wish I may die if it ain't the queerest thing I ever see ! The pianny has turned her head ! She 'd never have gone in her right mind," cried Hannah, star- ing after her, while the girls were rendered quite speech- less by the miracle. 8o Little Women 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 did n'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. If the roof of the house had suddenly flown off, the old gentleman would n'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 grand- daughter back again. Beth ceased to fear him from that moment, and sat there talking to him as cosily as if she had known him all her life ; for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride. When she went home, he walked with her to her own gate, shook hands cordially, and touched his hat as he marched back again, looking very stately and erect, like a handsome, soldierly old gentleman, as he was. When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig, by way of expressing her satisfaction ; Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise ; and Meg exclaimed, with uplifted hands, " Well, I do believe the world is coming to an end ! " Amy's Valley of Humiliation 8 1 CHAPTER VII amy's valley of humiliation "^11 ^HAT boy is a perfect Cyclops, isn't he?" I said Amy, one day, as Laurie clattered by JL on horseback, with a flourish of his whip as he passed. " How dare you say so, when he 's got both his eyes? and very handsome ones they are, too," cried Jo, who resented any slighting remarks about her friend. " I did n't say anything about his eyes, and I don't see why you need fire up when I admire his riding." " Oh, my goodness ! that little goose means a cen' taur, and she called him a Cyclops," exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter. " You need n't be so rude ; it 's only a ' lapse of lingy,' as Mr. Davis says," retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin. " I just wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse," she added, as if to herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear. "Why?" asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laugh at Amy's second blunder. " I need it so much ; I 'm dreadfully in debt, and it won't be my turn to have the rag-money for a month." "In debt. Amy? What do you mean?" and Meg looked sober. " Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes, and I can't pay them, you know, till I have money, for Marmee forbade my having anything charged at the shop." "Tell me all about it. Are limes the fashion now? It used to be pricking bits of rubber to make balls; " 6 82 Little Women and Meg tried to keep her countenance, Amy looked so grave and important. " Why, you see, the girls are always buying them, and unless you want to be thought mean, you must do it, too. It 's nothing but limes now, for every one is sucking them in their desks in school-time, and trading them off for pencils, bead-rings, paper dolls, or some- thing else, at recess. If one girl likes another, she gives her a lime ; if she 's mad with her, she eats one before her face, and don't offer even a suck. They treat by turns ; and I 've had ever so many, but have n't returned them ; and I ought, for they are debts of honor, you know." " How much will pay them off, and restore your credit?" asked Meg, taking out her purse, " A quarter would more than do it, and leave a few cents over for a treat for you. Don't you like limes?" " Not much ; you may have my share. Here 's the money. Make it last as long as you can, for it is n't very plenty, you know." *' Oh, thank you ! It must be so nice to have pocket- money ! I '11 have a grand feast, for I have n't tasted a lime this week. I felt delicate about taking any, as I could n't return them, and I 'm actually suffering for one." Next day Amy was rather late at school ; but could not resist the temptation of displaying, with pardonable pride, a moist brown-paper parcel, before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk. During the next few minutes the rumor that Amy March had got twenty- four delicious limes (she ate one on the way), and was going to treat, circulated through her " set," and the attentions of her friends became quite overwhelming. Katy Brown invited her to her next party on the spot ; Amy's Valley of Humiliation 83 Mary Kingsley insisted on lending her her watch till recess; and Jenny Snow, a satirical young lady, who had basely twitted Amy upon her limeless state, promptly buried the hatchet, and offered to furnish answers to certain appalling sums. But Amy had not forgotten Miss Snow's cutting remarks about " some persons whose noses were not too flat to smell other people's limes, and stuck-up people, who were not too proud to ask for them;" and she instantly crushed " that Snow girl's " hopes by the withering telegram, "You needn't be so polite all of a sudden, for you won't get any." A distinguished personage happened to visit the school that morning, and Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise, which honor to her foe rankled in the soul of Miss Snow, and caused Miss March to assume the airs of a studious young peacock. But, alas, alas ! pride goes before a fall, and the revengeful Snow turned the tables with disastrous success. No sooner had the guest paid the usual stale compliments, and bowed him- self out, than Jenny, under pretence of asking an im- portant question, informed Mr. Davis, the teacher, that Amy March had pickled limes in her desk. Now Mr. Davis had declared limes a contraband article, and solemnly vowed to publicly ferrule the first person who was found breaking the law. This much- enduring man had succeeded in banishing chewing-gum after a long and stormy war, had made a bonfire of the confiscated novels and newspapers, had suppressed a private post-office, had forbidden distortions of the face, nicknames, and caricatures, and done all that one man could do to keep half a hundred rebellious girls in order. Boys are trying enough to human patience, goodness knows ! but girls are infinitely more so, espe- 8+ Little Women cially 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 : there- fore, to use the expressive, if not elegant, language of a school-girl, " he was as nervous as a witch and as cross as a bear." The word "limes" was like fire to powder; his yellow face flushed, and he rapped on his desk with an energy which made Jenny skip to her scat with unusual rapidity. " Young ladies, attention, if you please ! " At the stern order the buzz ceased, and fifty pairs ot blue, black, gray, and brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awful countenance. " Miss March, come to the desk." Amy rose to comply with outward composure, but a secret fear oppressed her, for the limes weighed upon her conscience. " Bring with you the limes you have in your desk," was the unexpected command which arrested her before she got out of her seat. " Don't take all," whispered her neighbor, a young lady of great presence of mind. Amy hastily shook out half a dozen, and laid the rest down before Mr. Davis, feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relent when that delicious perfume met his nose. Unfortunately, Mr. Davis particularly de- Amy's Valley of Humiliation 85 tested the odor of the fashionable pickle, and disgust added to his wrath. " Is that all?" " Not quite," stammered Amy. " Bring the rest immediately." With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed. "You are sure there are no more?" " I never lie, sir." " So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two, and throw them out of the window." There was a simultaneous sigh, which created quite a little gust, as the last hope fled, and the treat was ravished from their longing lips. Scarlet with shame and anger. Amy went to and fro six dreadful times; and as each doomed couple — looking oh! so plump and juicy — fell from her reluctant hands, a shout from the street completed the anguish of the girls, for it told them that their feast was being exulted over by the little Irish children, who were their sworn foes. This — this was too much ; all flashed indignant or appealing glances at the inexorable Davis, and one passionate lime-lover burst into tears. As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr. Davis gave a portentous " Hem ! " and said, in his most impressive manner, — " Young ladies, you remember what I said to you a week ago. I am sorry this has happened ; but I never allow my rules to be infringed, and I never break my word. Miss March, hold out your hand." Amy started, and put both hands behind her, turning on him an imploring look which pleaded for her better than the words she could 'not utter. She was rather a favorite with " old Davis," as, of course, he was called, and it 's my private belief that he would have broken his 86 Little Women word if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had not found vent in a hiss. That hiss, faint as it was, irritated the irascible gentleman, and sealed the culprit's fate. "Your hand. Miss March! " was the only answer her mute appeal received ; and, too proud to cry or beseech, Amy set her teeth, threw back her head defiantly, ^ and bore without flinching several tingling blows on her little palm. They were neither many nor heavy, but that made no difference to her. For the first time in her life she had been struck ; and the disgrace, in her eyes, was as deep as if he had knocked her down. " You will now stand on the platform till recess," said Mr. Davis, resolved to do the thing thoroughly, since he had begun. That was dreadful. It would have been bad enough •to go to her seat, and see the pitying faces of her friends, or the satisfied ones of her few enemies ; but to face the whole school, with that shame fresh upon her, seemed impossible, and for a second she felt as if she could only drop down where she stood, and break her heart with crying. A bitter sense of wrong, and the thought of Jenny Snow, helped her to bear it; and, taking the ignominious place, she fixed her eyes on the stove-funnel above what now seemed a sea of faces, and stood there, so motionless and white that the girls found it very hard to study, with that pathetic figure before them. During the fifteen minutes that followed, the proud and sensitive little girl suffered a shame and pain which she never forgot. To others it might seem a ludicrous or trivial affair, but to her it was a hard experience; for during the twelve years of her life she had been governed by love alone, and a blow of that sort had never touched her before. The smart of her hand and Amy's Valley of Humiliation 87 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 dis- . appointed in me ! " The fifteen minutes seemed an hour ; but they came to an end at last, and the word " Recess ! " had never seemed so welcome to her before. "You can go, Miss March," said Mr. Davis, looking, as he felt, uncomfortable. He did not soon forget the reproachful glance Amy gave him, as she went, without a word to any one, straight into the ante-room, snatched her things, and left the place " forever," as she passionately declared to her- self. She was in a sad state when she got home; and when the older girls arrived, some time later, an indigna- tion meeting was held at once. Mrs. March did not say much, but looked disturbed, and comforted her afflicted* little daughter in her tenderest manner. Meg bathed the insulted hand with glycerine and tears ; Beth felt that even her beloved kittens would fail as a balm for griefs like this ; Jo wrathfully proposed that Mr. Davis be arrested without delay ; and Hannah shook her fist at the "villain," and pounded potatoes for dinner as if she had him under her pestle. No notice was taken of Amy's flight, except by her mates ; but the sharp-eyed demoiselles discovered that Mr. Davis was quite benignant in the afternoon, also un- usually nervous. Just before school closed, Jo appeared, wearing a grim expression, as she stalked up to the desk, and delivered a letter from her mother ; then collected Amy's property, and departed, carefully scraping the mud from her boots on the door-mat, as if she shook the dust of the place off her feet. " Yes, you can have a vacation from school, but I 88 Little Women want you to study a little every day, with Beth," said Mrs. March, that evening. "I don't approve of cor- poral punishment, especially for girls. I dislike Mr. Davis's manner of teaching, and don't think the girls you associate with are doing you any good, so I shall ask your father's advice before I send you anywhere else." " That 's good ! I wish all the girls would leave, and spoil his old school. It's perfectly maddening to think of those lovely limes," sighed Amy, with the air of a martyr. " I am not sorry you lost them, for you broke the rules, and deserved some punishment for disobedience," was the severe reply, which rather disappointed the young lady, who expected nothing but sympathy. " Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the whole school?" cried Amy. » "I should not have chosen that way of mending a fault," replied her mother; "but I'm not sure that it won't do you more good than a milder method. You are getting to be rather conceited, my dear, and it is quite time you set about correcting it. You have a good many little gifts and virtues, but there is no need of parading them, for conceit spoils the finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long; even if it is, the consciousness of possessing and using it well should satisfy one, and the great charm of all power is modesty." " So it is ! " cried Laurie, who was playing chess in a corner with Jo. " I knew a girl, once, who had a really remarkable talent for music, and she did n't know it ; never guessed what sweet little things she composed when she was alone, and wouldn't have believed it if any one had told her." " I wish I 'd known that nice girl ; maybe she would Amy's Valley of Humiliation 89 have helped me, I'm so stupid," said Beth, who stood beside him, listening eagerly. " You do know her, and she helps you better than any one else could," answered Laurie, looking at her with such mischievous meaning in his merry black eyes, that Beth suddenly turned very red, and hid her face in the sofa-cushion, quite overcome by such an unexpected dis- covery. Jo let Laurie win the game, to pay for that praise of her Beth, who could not be prevailed upon to play for them after her compliment. So Laurie did his best, and sung delightfully, being in a particularly lively humor, for to the Marches he seldom showed the moody side of his character. When he was gone, Amy, who had been pensive all the evening, said suddenly, as if busy over some new idea, — " Is Laurie an accomplished boy?" "Yes ; he has had an excellent education, and has much talent ; he will make a fine man, if not spoilt by petting," replied her mother. "And he isn't conceited, is he?" asked Amy. " Not in the least ; that is why he is so charming, and we all like him so much." " I see ; it 's nice to have accomplishments, and be elegant ; but not to show off, or get perked up," said Amy thoughtfully. " These things are always seen and felt in a person's manner and conversation, if modestly used; but it is not necessary to display them," said Mrs. March. " Any more than it 's proper to wear all your bonnets and gowns and ribbons at once, that folks may know you 've got them," added Jo ; and the lecture ended in a laugh. go Little Women CHAPTER VIII JO MEETS APOLLYON " ^"^ IRLS, where are you going?" asked Amy, I -w- coming into their room one Saturday after- V^_^ noon, and finding them getting ready to go out, with an air of secrecy which excited her curiosity. " Never mind ; Httle girls should n't ask questions," returned Jo sharply. Now if there is anything mortifying to our feelings, when we are young, it is to be told that ; and to be bid- den 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 coax- ingly, " Do tell me ! I should think you might let me go, too ; for Beth is fussing over her piano, and I have n't got anything to do, and am so lonely." " I can't, dear, because you are n't invited," began Meg ; but Jo broke in impatiently, " Now, Meg, be quiet, or you will spoil it all. You can't go, Amy; so don't be a baby, and whine about it." " You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are ; you were whispering and laughing together, on the sofa, last night, and you stopped when I came in. Are n't you going with him? " "Yes, we are; now do be still, and stop bothering." Amy held her tongue, but used her eyes, and saw Meg slip a fan into her pocket. " I know ! I know ! you 're going to the theatre to see the ' Seven Castles ! ' " she cried ; adding resolutely, " and I s^a/l go, for mother said I might see it ; and I 've Jo Meets Apollyon 91 got my rag-money, and it was mean not to tell me in time." "Just listen to me a minute, and be a good child," said Meg soothingly. " Mother does n't wish you to go this week, because your eyes are not well enough yet to bear the light of this fairy piece. Next week you can go with Beth and Hannah, and have a nice time." " I don't like that half as well as going with you and Laurie. Please let me ; I 've been sick with this cold so long, and shut up, I 'm dying for some fun. Do, Meg ! I 'II be ever so good," pleaded Amy, looking as pathetic as she could. " Suppose we take her. I don't believe mother would mind, if we bundle her up well," began Meg. " If she goes / sha'n't ; and if I don't, Laurie won't like it; and it will be very rude, after he invited only us, to go and drag in Amy. I should think she 'd hate to poke herself where she is n't wanted," said Jo crossly, for she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child, when she wanted to enjoy herself. Her tone and manner angered Amy, who began to put her boots on, saying, in her most aggravating way, " I shall go ; Meg says I may; and if I pay for myself, Laurie has n't anything to do with it." " You can't sit with us, for our seats are reserved, and you must n't sit alone; so Laurie will give you his place, and that will spoil our pleasure ; or he '11 get another seat for you, and that is n't proper, when you were n't asked. You sha'n't stir a step ; so you may just stay where you are," scolded Jo, crosser than ever, having just pricked her finger in her hurry. Sitting on the floor, with one boot on, Amy began to cry, and Meg to reason with her, when Laurie called from below, and the two girls hurried down, leaving 92 Little Women their sister wailing; for now and then she forgot her grown-up ways, and acted like a spoilt child. Just as the party was setting out, Amy called over the banisters, in a threatening tone, " You '11 be sorry for this, Jo March ; see if you ain't." " Fiddlesticks ! " returned Jo, slamming the door, "They had a charming time, for " The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake " were as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish. But, in spite of the comical red imps, sparkling elves, and gorgeous princes and princesses, Jo's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it ; the fairy queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy ; and between the acts she amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her " sorry for it." She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, for both had quick tempers, and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo, and Jo irritated Amy, and semi-occasional explosions occurred, of which both were much ashamed afterward. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting her into trouble ; her anger never lasted long, and, having humbly confessed her fault, she sincerely repented, and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury, because she was such an angel afterward. Poor Jo tried desper- ately to be good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her ; and it took years of patient effort to subdue it. When they got home, they found Amy reading in the parlor. She assumed an injured air as they came in; never lifted her eyes from her book, or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire, and Jo Meets Apollyon 93 receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's first look was toward the bureau ; for, in their last quarrel, Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down on the floor. Everything was in its place, however ; and after a hasty glance into her various closets, bags, and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs. There Jo was mistaken ; for next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth, and Amy were sitting together, late in the afternoon, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited, and demanding breathlessly, " Has any one taken my book ?" Meg and Beth said " No," at once, and looked sur- prised ; Amy poked the fire, and said nothing. Jo saw her color rise, and was down upon her in a minute. " Amy, you 've got it ! " " No, I have n't." *' You know where it is, then ! " " No, I don't." "That's a fib ! " cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders, and looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy. " It is n't. I have n't got it, don't know where it is now, and don't care." " You know something about it, and you *d better tell at once, or I '11 make you," and Jo gave her a slight shake. " Scold as much as you like, you '11 never see your silly old book again," cried Amy, getting excited in her turn. " Why not?" " I burnt it up." " What ! my little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to finish before father got home ? Have 94 Little Women you really burnt it?" said Jo, turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously. " Yes, I did ! I told you I 'd make you pay for being so cross yesterday, and I have, so — " Amy got no farther, for Jo's hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy till her teeth chattered in her head ; cfying, in a passion of grief and anger, — " You wicked, wicked girl ! I never can write it again, and I '11 never forgive you as long as I live." Meg flew to rescue Amy, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside herself; and, with a parting box on her sister's ear, she rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret, and finished her fight alone. The storm cleared up below, for Mrs. March came home, and, having heard the story, soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her sister. Jo's book was the pride of her heart, and was regarded by her family as a literary sprout of great promise. It was only half a dozen little fairy tales, but Jo had worked over them patiently, putting her whole heart into her work, hoping to make something good enough to print. She had just copied them with great care, and had de- stroyed 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 calam- ity, and she felt that it never could be made up to her. Beth mourned as for a departed kitten, and Meg refused to defend her pet ; Mrs. March looked grave and grieved, and Amy felt that no one would love her till she had asked pardon for the act which she now regretted more than any of them. When the tea-bell rung, Jo appeared, looking so grim and unapproachable that it took all Amy's courage to say meekly, — Jo Meets Apollyon 93 " Please forgive me, Jo ; I 'm very, very sorry." "I never shall forgive you," was Jo's stern answer; and, from that moment, she ignored Amy entirely. No one spoke of the great trouble, — not even Mrs. March, — for all had learned by experience that when Jo was in that mood words were wasted ; and the wisest course was to wait till some little accident, or her own generous nature, softened Jo's resentment, and healed the breach. It was not a happy evening; for, though they sewed as usual, while their mother read aloud from Bremer, Scott, or Edgeworth, something was wanting, and the sweet home-peace was disturbed. They felt this most when singing-time came; for Beth could only play, Jo stood dumb as a stone, and Amy broke down, so Meg and mother sung alone. But, in spite of their efforts to be as cheery as larks, the flute-like voices did not seem to chord as well as usual, and all felt out of tune. As Jo received her good-night kiss, Mrs. March whis- pered gently, — " My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger ; forgive each other, help each other, and begin again to-morrow." Jo wanted to lay her head down on that motherly bosom, and cry her grief and anger all away ; but tears were an unmanly weakness, and she felt so deeply in- jured that she reaWy con/dn'i quite forgive yet. So she winked hard, shook her head, and said, gruffly because Amy was listening, — " It was an abominable thing, and she don't deserve to be forgiven." With that she marched off to bed, and there was no merry or confidential gossip that night. Amy was much offended that her overtures of peace 96 Little Women had been repulsed, and began to wish she had not hum* bled herself, to feel more injured than ever, and to plume herself on her superior virtue in a way which was particu- larly exasperating. Jo still looked like a thunder-cloud, and nothing went well all day. It was bitter cold in the morning; she dropped her precious turn-over in the gutter. Aunt March had an attack of fidgets, Meg was pensive, Beth woidd look grieved and wistful when she got home, and Amy kept making remarks about people who were always talking about being good, and yet would n't try, when other people set them a virtuous example. " Everybody is so hateful, I '11 ask Laurie to go skat- ing. He is always kind and jolly, and will put me to rights, I know," said Jo to herself, and off she went. Amy heard the clash of skates, and looked out with an impatient exclamation, — " There ! she promised I should go next time, lor this is the last ice we shall have. But it 's no use to ask such a cross-patch to take me." " Don't say that ; you were very naughty, and it is hard to forgive the loss of her precious little book ; but I think she might do it now, and I guess she will, if you try her at the right minute," said Meg. " Go after them ; don't say anything till Jo has got good-natured with Laurie, then take a quiet minute, and just kiss her, or do some kind thing, and I 'm sure she '11 be friends again, with all her heart." "I '11 try," said Amy, for the advice suited her; and, after a flurry to get ready, she ran after the friends, who were just disappearing over the hill. It was not far to the river, but both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming, and turned her back ; Laurie did not see, for he was carefully skating Jo Meets Apollyon 97 along the shore, sounding the ice, for a warm spell had preceded the cold snap. " I '11 go on to the first bend, and see if it's all right, before we begin to race," Amy heard him say, as he shot away, looking like a young Russian, in his fur- trimmed coat and cap. Jo heard Amy panting after her run, stamping her feet and blowing her fingers, as she tried to put her skates on; but Jo never turned, and went slowly zigzag- ing down the rive;, taking a bitter, unhappy sort of sat- isfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong, and took possession of her, as evil thoughts and feelings always do, unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, he shouted back, — " Keep near the shore ; it is n't safe in the middle." Jo heard, but Amy was just struggling to her feet, and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder, and the little demon she was harboring said in her ear, — " No matter whether she heard or not, let her take care of herself." Laurie had vanished round the bend ; Jo was just at the turn, and Amy, far behind, striking out toward the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute Jo stood still, with a strange feeling at her heart ; then she resolved to go on, but something held and turned her round, just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down, with the sudden crash of rotten ice, the splash of water, and a cry that made Jo's heart stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, but her voice was gone ; she tried to rush forward, but her feet seemed to have no strength in them ; and, for a second, she could only stand motionless, staring, with a terror- stricken face, at the little blue hood above the black 98 Little Women water. Something rushed swiftly by her, and Laurie's voice cried out, — " Bring a rail ; quick, quick ! " How she did it, she never knew ; but for the next few minutes she worked as if possessed, blindly obeying Laurie, who was quite self-possessed, and, lying flat, held Amy up by his arm and hockey till Jo dragged a rail from the fence, and together they got the child out, more frightened than hurt. " Now then, we must walk her home as fast as we can ; pile our things on her, while I get off these confounded skates," cried Laurie, wrapping his coat round Amy, and tugging away at the straps, which never seemed so intricate before. Shivering, dripping, and crying, they got Amy home; and, after an exciting time of it, she fell asleep, rolled in blankets, before a hot fire. During the bustle Jo had scarcely spoken ; but flown about, looking pale and wild, with her things half off, her dress torn, and her hands cut and bruised by ice and rails, and refractory buckles. When Amy was comfortably asleep, the house quiet, and Mrs. March sitting by the bed, she called Jo to her, and began to bind up the hurt hands. "Are you sure she is safe?" whispered Jo, looking remorsefully at the golden head, which might have been swept away from her sight forever under the treacherous ice. "Quite safe, dear; she is not hurt, and won't even take cold, I think, you were so sensible in covering and getting her home quickly," replied her mother cheer- fully. "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, Jo Meets Apollyon 99 telling all that had happened, bitterly condemning her hardness of heart, and sobbing out her gratitude for be- ing spared the heavy punishment which might have come upon her. " It 's my dreadful temper ! I try to cure it ; I think I have, and then it breaks out worse than ever. O mother, what shall I do? what shall I do?" cried poor Jo, in despair. " Watch and pray, dear ; never get tired of trying ; and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault," said Mrs. March, drawing the blowzy head to her shoulder, and kissing the wet cheek so tenderly that Jo cried harder than ever. " You don't know, you can't guess how bad it is ! It seems as if I could do anything when I 'm in a passion ; I get so savage, I could hurt any one, and enjoy it. I 'm afraid I shall do something dreadful some day, and spoil my life, and make everybody hate me. O mother, help me, do help me ! " " I will, my child, I will. Don't cry so bitterly, but remember this day, and resolve, with all your soul, that you will never know another like it. Jo, dear, we all have our temptations, some far greater than yours, and it often takes us all our lives to conquer them. You think your temper is the worst in the world ; but mine used to be just like it." " Yours, mother? Why, you are never angry ! " and, for the moment, Jo forgot remorse in surprise. " I 've been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo ; but I have learned not to show it ; and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so." The patience and the humility of the face she loved so lOO Little Women 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 reso- lution to cure it ; though forty years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray, to a girl of fifteen. " Mother, are you angry when you fold your lips tight together, and go out of the room sometimes, when Aunt March scolds, or people worry you? " asked Jo, feeling nearer and dearer to her mother than ever before. " Yes, I 've learned to check the hasty words that rise to my lips ; and when I feel that they mean to break out against my will, I just go away a minute, and give myself a little shake, for being so weak and wicked," answered Mrs. March, with a sigh and a smile, as she smoothed and fastened up Jo's dishevelled hair. " How did you learn to keep still? That is what troubles me — for the sharp words fly out before I know what I 'm about ; and the more I say the worse I get, till it's a pleasure to hurt people's feelings, and say dreadful things. Tell me how you do it, Marmee dear," " My good mother used to help me — " " As you do us — " interrupted Jo, with a grateful kiss, " But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, and for years had to struggle on alone, for I was too proud to confess my weakness to any one else. I had a hard time, Jo, and shed a good many bitter tears over my failures ; for, in spite of my efforts, I never seemed to get on. Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be good. But by and by, when I had four little daughters round nic, and we were poor, then the old trouble began again ; for I am not patient jo Meets Apollyon loi by nature, and it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything." " Poor mother ! what helped you then? " "Your father, Jo. He never loses patience, — never doubts or complains, — • but always hopes, and works and waits so cheerfully, that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me, and showed me that I must try to practise all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, for I was their example. It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own ; a startled or surprised look from one of you, when I spoke sharply, rebuked me more than any words could have done ; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy." " O mother, if I 'm ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied," cried Jo, much touched. " I hope you will be a great deal better, dear ; but you must keep watch over your ' bosom enemy,' as father calls it, or it may sadden, if not spoil your life. You have had a warning ; remember it, and try with heart and soul to master this quick temper, before it brings you greater sorrow and regret than you have known to-day." " I will try, mother; I truly will. But you must help me, remind me, and keep me from flying out. I used to see father sometimes put his finger on his lips, and look at you with a very kind, but sober face, and you always folded your lips tight or went away: was he reminding you then ? " asked Jo softly. " Yes ; I asked him to help me so, and he never forgot it, but saved me from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look." Jo saw that her mother's eyes filled and her lips trem- X02 Little Women bled, 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 did n't mean to be rude, but it 's so comfortable to say all I think to you, and feel so safe and happy here." " My Jo, you may say anything to your mother, for it is my greatest happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me, and know how much I love them." " I thought I 'd grieved you." " No, dear ; but speaking of father reminded me how much I miss him, how much I owe him, and how faithfully I should watch and work to keep his little daughters safe and good for him." " Yet you told him to go, mother, and did n't cry when he went, and never complain now, or seem as if you needed any help," said Jo, wondering. " I gave my best to the country I love, and kept my tears till he was gone. Why should I complain, when we both have merely done our duty and will surely be the happier for it in the end? If I don't seem to need help, it is because I have a better friend, even than father, to comfort and sustain me. My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are beginning, and may be many ; but you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can ne\'er be taken from you, but may become the source of lifelong peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartil}', 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." Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 103 Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close, and, in the silence which followed, the sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart without words ; for in that sad, yet happy hour, she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control ; and, led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the Friend who welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother. Amy stirred, and sighed in her sleep ; and, as if eager to begin at once to mend her fault, Jo looked up with an expression on her face which it had never worn before. " I let the sun go down on my anger ; I would n't forgive her, and to-day, if it had n't been for Laurie, it might have been too late ! How could I be so wicked ? " said Jo, half aloud, as she leaned over her sister, softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow. As if she heard. Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss. CHAPTER IX MEG GOES TO VANITY FAIR " "^ DO think it was the most fortunate thing in the I world that those children should have the measles JL just aow," said Meg, one April day, as she stood packing the " go abroady " trunk in her room, surrounded by her sisters. *' And so nice of Annie Moffat not to forget her prom' I04 Little Women ise. A whole fortnight of fun will be regularly splendid," replied Jo, looking like a windmill, as she folded skirts with her long arms. "And such lovely weather; I'm so glad of that," added Beth, tidily sorting neck and hair ribbons in her best box, lent for the great occasion. " I wish I was going to have a fine time, and wear all these nice things," said Amy, with her mouth full of pins, as she artistically replenished her sister's cushion. " I wish you were all going; but, as you can't, I shall keep my adventures to tell you when I come back. I 'm sure it 's the least I can do, when you have been so kind, lending me things, and helping me get ready," said Meg, glancing round the room at the very simple outfit, which seemed nearly perfect in their eyes. " What did mother give you out of the treasure-box ? " asked Amy, who had not been present at the opening of a certain cedar chest, in which Mrs. March kept a few relics of past splendor, as gifts for her girls when the proper time came. " A pair of silk stockings, that pretty carved fan, and a lovely blue sash. I wanted the violet silk ; but there is n't time to make it over, so I must be contented with my old tarlatan." " It will look nicely over my new muslin skirt, and the sash will set it oif beautifully. I wish I had n't smashed my coral bracelet, for you might have had it," said Jo, who loved to give and lend, but whose possessions were usually too dilapidated to be of much use. " There is a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure-box ; but mother said real flowers were the pret- tiest 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 Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 105 feather in my hat, Beth, — then my popHn, for Sun- day, and the small party, — it looks heavy for spring, doesn't it? The violet silk would be so nice; oh, dear ! " " Never mind ; you 've got the tarlatan for the big party, and you always look like an angel in white," said Amy, brooding over the little store of finery in which her soul delighted. "It isn't low-necked, and it doesn't sweep enough, but it will have to do. My blue house-dress looks so well, turned and freshly trimmed, that I feel as if I 'd got a new one. My silk sacque is n't a bit the fashion, and my bonnet does n't look like Sallie's ; I did n't like to say anything, but I was sadly disappointed in my umbrella. I told mother black, with a white handle, but she forgot, and bought a green one, with a yellowish handle. It's strong and neat, so I ought not to complain, but I know I shall feel ashamed of it beside Annie's silk one with a gold top," sighed Meg, surveying the little umbrella with great disfavor. " Change it," advised Jo. " I won't be so silly, or hurt Marmee's feelings, when she took so much pains to get my things. It 's a non- sensical notion of mine, and I 'm not going to give up to it. My silk stockings and two pairs of new gloves are my comfort. You are a dear, to lend me yours, Jo. I feel so rich, and sort of elegant, with two new pairs, and the old ones cleaned up for common ; " and Meg took a refreshing peep at her glove-box. " Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her night- caps; would you put some on mine?" she asked, as Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins, fresh from Hannah's hands. " No, I would n't ; for the smart caps won't match the io6 Little Women plain gowns, without any trimming on them. Poor folks should n't rig," said Jo decidedly. " I wonder if I shall ever be happy enough to have real lace on my clothes, and bows on my caps? " said Meg impatiently. " You said the other day that you 'd be perfectly happy if you could only go to Annie Moffat's," observed Beth, in her quiet way. " So I did ! Well, I mn 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 every- thing in but my ball-dress, which I shall leave for mother to pack," said Meg, cheering up, as she glanced from the half-filled trunk to the many-times pressed and mended white tarlatan, which she called her " ball-dress," with an important air. The next day was fine, and Meg departed, in style, for a fortnight of novelty and pleasure. Mrs. March had consented to the visit rather reluctantly, fearing that Margaret would come back more discontented than she went. But she had begged so hard, and Sallie had promised to take good care of her, and a little pleasure seemed so delightful after a winter of irksome work, that the mother yielded, and the daughter went to take her first taste of fashionable life. The Moffats were very fashionable, and simple Meg was rather daunted, at first, by the splendor of the house and the elegance of its occupants. But they were kindly people, in spite of the frivolous life they led, and soon put their guest at her ease. Perhaps Meg felt, without understanding why, that they were not particularly culti- vated 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 sumptu- Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 107 ously, 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 desti- tute and much-injured girl, in spite of the new gloves and silk stockings. She had not much time for repining, however, for the three young girls were busily employed in "having a good time." They shopped, walked, rode, and called all day; went to theatres and operas, or frolicked at home in the evening; for Annie had many friends, and knew how to entertain them. Her older sisters were very fine young ladies, and one was engaged, which was extremely interesting and romantic, Meg thought. Mr. Moffat was a fat, jolly old gentleman, who knew her father; and Mrs. Mofiat, a fat, jolly old lady, who took as great a fancy to Meg as her daughter had done. Every one petted her ; and " Daisy," as they called her, was in a fair way to have her head turned. When the evening for the "small party" came, she found that the poplin would n'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 io8 Little Women to tie her sash, and Belle, the engaged sister, praised her white arms; but in their kindness Meg saw only pity for her poverty, and her heart felt very heavy as she stood by herself, while the others laughed, chattered, and flew about like gauzy butterflies. The hard, bitter feeling was getting pretty bad, when the maid brought in a box of flowers. Before she could speak, Annie had the cover off", and all were exclaiming at the lovely roses, heath, and fern within. " It 's for Belle, of course ; George always sends her some, but these are altogether ravishing," cried Annie, with a great sniff. " They are for Miss March, the man said. And here 's a note," put in the maid, holding it to Meg. " What fun ! Who are they from ? Did n't know you had a lover," cried the girls, fluttering about Meg in a high state of curiosity and surprise. " The note is from mother, and the flowers from Laurie," said Meg simply, yet much gratified that he had not forgotten her. " Oh, indeed ! " said Annie, with a funny look, as Meg slipped the note into her pocket, as a sort of talisman against envy, vanity, and false pride ; for the few loving words had done her good, and the flowers cheered her up by their beauty. Feeling almost happy again, she laid by a few ferns and roses for herself, and quickly made up the rest in dainty bouquets for the breasts, hair, or skirts of her friends, offering them so prettily that Clara, the elder sister, told her she was " the sweetest little thing she ever saw; "and they looked quite charmed with her small attention. Somehow the kind act finished her despondency; and when all the rest went to show them- selves to Mrs. Moffat, she saw a happy, bright-eyed face Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 109 in the mirror, as she laid her ferns against her ripphng hair, and fastened the roses in the dress that did n't strike her as so very shabby now. She enjoyed herself very much that evening, for she danced to her heart's content ; every one was very kind, and she had three compliments. Annie made her sing, and some one said she had a remarkably fine voice ; Major Lincoln asked who " the fresh little girl, with the beautiful eyes," was; and Mr. Moffat insisted on dancing with her, because she " did n't dawdle, but had some spring in her," as he gracefully expressed it. So, altogether, she had a very nice time, till she overheard a bit of a conversation, which disturbed her extremely. She was sitting just inside the conserva- tory, waiting for her partner to bring her an ice, when she heard a voice ask, on the other side of the flowery wall, — "How old is he?" " Sixteen or seventeen, I should say," replied another voice. " It would be a grand thing for one of those girls, wouldn't it? Sallie says they are very intimate now, and the old man quite dotes on them." " Mrs. M. has made her plans, I dare say, and will play her cards well, early as it is. The girl evidently doesn't think of it yet," said Mrs. Moffat. " She told that fib about her mamma, as if she did know, and colored up when the flowers came, quite prettily. Poor thing ! she 'd be so nice if she was only got up in style. Do you think she 'd be offended if we offered to lend her a dress for Thursday? " asked another voice. " She 's proud, but I don't believe she 'd mind, for that dowdy tarlatan is all she has got. She may tear it I lO Little Women to-night, and that will be a good excuse for offering a decent one." " We '11 see. I shall ask young Laurence, as a com- pliment to her, and we '11 have fun about it afterward." Here Meg's partner appeared, to find her looking much flushed and rather agitated. She was proud, and her pride was useful just then, for it helped her hide her mortification, anger, and disgust at what she had just heard ; for, innocent and unsuspicious as she was, she could not help understanding the gossip of her friends. She tried to forget it, but could not, and kept repeating to herself, " Mrs. M. has made her plans," " that fib about her mamma," and " dowdy tarlatan," till she was ready to cry, and rush home to tell her troubles and ask fot advice. As that was impossible, she did her best to seem gay; and, being rather excited, she succeeded so well that no one dreamed what an effort she was making. She was very glad when it was all over, and she was quiet in her bed, where she could think and wonder and fume till her head ached and her hot cheeks were cooled by a few natural tears. Those foolish, yet well-meant words, had opened a new world to Meg, and much disturbed the peace of the old one, in which, till now, she had lived as happily as a child. Her innocent friendship with Laurie was spoilt by the silly speeches she had overheard ; her faith in her mother was a little shaken by the worldly plans attributed to her by Mrs. Moffat, who judged others by herself; and the sensible resolution to be contented with the simple wardrobe which suited a poor man's daughter, was weakened by the unnecessary pity of girls who thought a shabby dress one of the greatest calamities under heaven. Poor Meg had a restless night, and got up heavy- eyed, unhappy, half resentful toward her friends, and half Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 1 1 1 ashamed of herself for not speaking out frankly, and ^;etting everything right. Everybody dawdled that morn- ing, 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 senti- mental air, — " Daisy, dear, I 've sent an invitation to your friend, Mr. Laurence, for Thursday. We should like to know him, and it 's only a proper compliment to you." Meg colored, but a mischievous fancy to tease the girls made her reply demurely, — " You are very kind, but I 'm afraid he won't come." " Why not, cherie ?" asked Miss Belle. "He's too old." "My child, what do you mean? What is his age, I beg to know ! " cried Miss Clara. " Nearly seventy, I believe," answered Meg, counting stitches, to hide the merriment in her eyes. " You sly creature ! Of course we meant the young man," exclaimed Miss Belle, laughing. "There isn't any; Laurie is only a little boy," and Meg laughed also at the queer look which the sisters exchanged as she thus described her supposed lover, " About your age," Nan said. "Nearer my sister Jo's; / am seventeen in August," returned Meg, tossing her head, " It 's very nice of him to send you flowers, is n't it? " said Annie, looking wise about nothing. " Yes, he often does, to all of us ; for their house is 112 Little Women full, and we are so fond of them. My mother and old Mr. Laurence are friends, you know, so it is quite natural that we children should play together; " and Meg hoped they would say no more. " It's evident Daisy is n't out yet," said Miss Clara to Belle, with a nod. " Quite a pastoral state of innocence all round," re- turned Miss Belle, with a shrug. " I 'm going out to get some little matters for my girls ; can I do anything for you, young ladies?" asked Mrs. Moffat, lumbering in, like an elephant, in silk and lace. " No, thank you, ma'am," replied Sallie. " I 've got my new pink silk for Thursday, and don't want a thing." " Nor I, — " began Meg, but stopped, because it occurred to her that she did want several things, and could not have them. " What shall you wear? " asked Sallie. " My old white one again, if I can mend it fit to be seen; it got sadly torn last night," said Meg, trying to speak quite easily, but feeling very uncomfortable. " Why don't you send home for another? " said Sallie, who was not an observing young lady. " I have n't got any other." It cost Meg an effort to say that, but Sallie did not see it, and exclaimed, in amiable surprise, — " Only that? How funny — " She did not finish her speech, for Belle shook her head at her, and broke in, saying kindly, — " Not at all ; where is the use of having a lot of dresses when she is n't out? There 's no need of send- ing home, Daisy, even if you had a dozen, for I 've got a sweet blue silk laid away, which I 've outgrown, and you shall wear it, to please me, won't you, dear?" " You are very kind, but I don't mind my old dress, Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 113 if you don't ; it does well enough for a little girl like me," said Meg. " Now do let me please myself by dressing you up in style. I admire to do it, and you 'd be a regular little beauty, with a touch here and there. I sha'n't let any one see you till you are done, and then we '11 burst upon them like Cinderella and her godmother, going to the ball," said Belle, in her persuasive tone. Meg could n't refuse the offer so kindly made, for a desire to see if she would be " a little beauty " after touching up, caused her to accept, and forget all her former uncomfortable feelings towards the Moffats. On the Thursday evening. Belle shut herself up with her maid; and, between them, they turned Meg into a fine lady. They crimped and curled her hair, they pol- ished her neck and arms with some fragrant powder, touched her lips with coralline salve, to make them redder, and Hortense would have added " a soupgon of rouge," if Meg had not rebelled. They laced her 'into a sky-blue dress, which was so tight she could hardly breathe, and so low in the neck that modest Meg blushed at herself in the mirror. A set of silver filagree was added, bracelets, necklace, brooch, and even ear-rings, for Hortense tied them on, with a bit of pink silk, which did not show. A cluster of tea-rosebuds at the bosom, and a ruche, reconciled Meg to the display of her pretty white shoulders, and a pair of high-heeled blue silk boots satisfied the last wish of her heart. A laced handker- chief, a plumy fan, and a bouquet in a silver holder fin- ished her off; and Miss Belle surveyed her with the satisfaction of a little girl with a newly dressed doll. "Mademoiselle is charmante, tres jolie, is she not?" cried Hortense, clasping her hands in an affected rap- ture. 8 114 Little Women " Come and show yourself," said Miss Belle, leading the way to the room where the others were waiting. As Meg went rustling after, with her long skirts trail- ing, her ear-rings tinkling, her curls waving, and her heart beating, she felt as if her " fun " had really begun at last, for the mirror had plainly told her that she was " a little beauty." Her friends repeated the pleasing phrase enthusiastically ; and, for several minutes, she stood, like the jackdaw in the fable, enjoying her borrowed plumes, while the rest chattered like a party of magpies. " While I dress, do you drill her. Nan, in the manage- ment of her skirt, and those French heels, or she will trip herself up. Take your silver butterfly, and catch up that long curl on the left side of her head, Clara, and don't any of you disturb the charming work of my hands," said Belle, as she hurried away, looking well pleased with her success. " I 'm afraid to go down, I feel so queer and stiff and half-dressed," said Meg to Sallie, as the bell rang, and Mrs. Moffat sent to ask the young ladies to appear at once. " You don't look a bit like yourself, but you are very nice. I 'm nowhere beside you, for Belle has heaps of taste, and you 're quite French, I assure you. Let your flowers hang ; don't be so careful of them, and be sure you don't trip," returned Sallie, trying not to care that Meg was prettier than herself. 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 assem- bled. 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 Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 115 afifectionate all of a sudden; several young gentlemen, who had only stared at her at the other party, now not only stared, but asked to be introduced, and said all manner of foolish but agreeable things to her; and several old ladies, who sat on sofas, and criticised the rest of the party, inquired who she was, with an air of interest. She heard Mrs. Mofifat reply to one of them, — " Daisy March — father a colonel in the army — one of our first families, but reverses of fortune, you know; intimate friends of the Laurences ; sweet creature, I as- sure you ; my Ned is quite wild about her." " Dear me ! " said the old lady, putting up her glass for another observation of Meg, who tried to look as if she had not heard, and been rather shocked at Mrs. Moffat's fibs. The " queer feeling " did not pass away, but she imag- ined herself acting the new part of fine lady, and so got on pretty well, though the tight dress gave her a side- ache, the train kept getting under her feet, and she was in constant fear lest her ear-rings should fly off, and get lost or broken. She was flirting her fan, and laughing at the feeble jokes of a young gentleman who tried to be witty, when she suddenly stopped laughing, and looked confused ; for, just opposite, she saw Laurie. He was staring at her with undisguised surprise, and disap- proval also, she thought; for, though he bowed and smiled, yet something in his honest eyes made her blush, and wish she had her old dress on. To complete her confusion, she saw Belle nudge Annie, and both glance from her to Laurie, who, she was happy to see, looked unusually boyish and shy. " Silly creatures, to put such thoughts into my head ! I won't care for it, or let it change me a bit," thought ii6 Little Women Meg, and rustled across the room to shake hands with her friend. " I 'm glad you came, I was afraid you would n't," she said, with her most grown-up air. " Jo wanted me to come, and tell her how you looked, so I did ; " answered Laurie, without turning his eyes upon her, though he half smiled at her maternal tone. " What shall you tell her ? " asked Meg, full of curiosity to know his opinion of her, yet feeling ill at ease with him, for the first time. " I shall say I did n't know you ; for you look so grown-up, and unlike yourself, I 'm quite afraid of you," he said, fumbling at his glove-button. " How absurd of you ! The girls dressed me up for fun, and I rather like it. Would n't Jo stare if she saw me? " said Meg, bent on making him say whether he thought her improved or not. " Yes, I think she would," returned Laurie gravely. " Don't you like me so? " asked Meg. " No, I don't," was the blunt reply. "Why not? " in an anxious tone. He glanced at her frizzled head, bare shoulders, and fantastically trimmed dress, with an expression that abashed her more than his answer, which had not a par- ticle of his usual politeness about it. " I don't like fuss and feathers." That was altogether too much from a lad younger than herself; and Meg walked away, saying petulantly, — " You are the rudest boy I ever saw." Feeling very much ruffled, she went and stood at a quiet window, to cool her cheeks, for the tight dress gave her an uncomfortably brilliant color. As she stood there. Major Lincoln passed by; and, a minute after, she heard him saying to his mother, — Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 117 " They are making a fool of that little girl; I wanted you to see her, but they have spoilt her entirely ; she 's nothing but a doll, to-night." " Oh, dear ! " sighed Meg ; " I wish I 'd been sensible, and worn my own things ; then I should not have dis- gusted other people, or felt so uncomfortable and ashamed myself" She leaned her forehead on the cool pane, and stood half hidden by the curtains, never minding that her favorite waltz had begun, till some one touched her ; and, turning, she saw Laurie, looking penitent, as he said, with his very best bow, and his hand out, — " Please forgive my rudeness, and come and dance with me." " I 'm afraid it will be too disagreeable to you," said Meg, trying to look offended, and failing entirely. " Not a bit of it; I 'm dying to do it. Come, I '11 be good; I don't like your gown, but I do think you are — just splendid ; " and he waved his hands, as if words failed to express his admiration. Meg smiled and relented, and whispered, as they stood waiting to catch the time, — " Take care my skirt don't trip you up ; it 's the plague of my life, and I was a goose to wear it." " Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful," said Laurie, looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of. Away they went, fleetly and gracefully ; for, having practised at home, they were well matched, and the blithe young couple were a pleasant sight to see, as they twirled merrily round and round, feeling more friendly than ever after their small tiff. "Laurie, I want you to do me a favor; will you?" said Meg, as he stood fanning her, when her breath 1 18 Little Women gave out, which it did very soon, though she would not own why. " Won't I ! " said Laurie, with alacrity, " Please don't tell them at home about my dress to- night. They won't understand the joke, and it will worry mother." " Then why did you do it ? " said Laurie's eyes, so plainly that Meg hastily added, — " I shall tell them, myself, all about it, and ' 'fess ' to mother how silly I 've been. But 1 'd rather do it my- self; so you '11 not tell, will you? " " I give you my word I won't; only what shall I say when they ask me ? " " Just say I looked pretty well, and was having a good time." " I '11 say the first, with all my heart ; but how about the other? You don't look as if you were having a good time ; are you ? " and Laurie looked at her with an expression which made her answer, in a whisper, — " No ; not just now. Don't think I 'm horrid ; I only wanted a little fun, but this sort does n't pay, I find, and I 'm getting tired of it." " Here comes Ned Moffat ; what does he want ? " said Laurie, knitting his black brows, as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a pleasant addition to the party. " He put his name down for three dances, and I suppose he 's coming for them. What a bore ! " said Meg, assuming a languid air, which amused Laurie immensely. He did not speak to her again till supper-time, when he saw her drinking champagne with Ned and his friend Fisher, who were behaving " like a pair of fools," as Laurie said to himself, for he felt a brotherly sort of Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 119 right to watch over the Marches, and fight their battles whenever a defender was needed. " You '11 have a splitting headache to-morrow, if you drink much of that. I wouldn't, Meg; your mother does n't like it, you know," he whispered, leaning over her chair, as Ned turned to refill her glass, and Fisher stooped to pick up her fan. "I'm not Meg, to-night; I 'm ' a doll,' who does all sorts of crazy things. To-morrow I shall put away my ' fuss and feathers,' and be desperately good again," she answered, with an affected little laugh. " Wish to-morrow was here, then," muttered Laurie, walking off, ill-pleased at the change he saw in her. Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did ; after supper she undertook the Ger- man, and blundered through it, nearly upsetting her partner with her long skirt, and romping in a way that scandalized Laurie, who looked on and meditated a lecture. But he got no chance to deliver it, for Meg kept away from him till he came to say good-night. " Remember ! " she said, trying to smile, for the split- ting headache had already begun. " Silence a la mort," replied Laurie, with a melodra- matic flourish, as he went away. This little bit of by-play excited Annie's curiosity ; but Meg was too tired for gossip, and went to bed, feeling as if she had been to a masquerade, and had n't enjoyed herself as much as she expected. She was sick all the next day, and on Saturday went home, quite used up with her fortnight's fun, and feeling that she had " sat in the lap of luxury" long enough. " It does seem pleasant to be quiet, and not have company manners on all the time. Home is a nice place, though it is n't splendid," said Meg, looking 120 Little Women about her with a restful expression, as she sat with her mother and Jo on the Sunday evening. " I 'm glad to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid home would seem dull and poor to you, after your fine quarters," replied her mother, who had given her many anxious looks that day ; for motherly eyes are quick to see any change in children's faces. Meg had told her adventures gayly, and said over and over what a charming time she had had; but something still seemed to weigh upon her spirits, and, when the younger girls were gone to bed, she sat thoughtfully staring at the fire, saying little, and looking worried. As the clock struck nine, and Jo proposed bed, Meg suddenly left her chair, and, taking Beth's stool, leaned her elbows on her mother's knee, saying bravely, — " Marmee, I want to ' 'fess.' " " I thought so; what is it, dear?" " Shall I go away ? " asked Jo discreetly. " Of course not; don't I always tell you everything ? I was ashamed to speak of it before the children, but I want you to know all the dreadful things I did at the Moffats'." " We are prepared," said Mrs. March, smiling, but looking a little anxious. " I told you they dressed me up, but I did n't tell you that they powdered and squeezed and frizzled, and made me look like a fashion-plate. Laurie thought I was n't proper ; I know he did, though he did n't say so, and one man called me ' a doll.' I knew it was silly, but they flattered me, and said I was a beauty, and quantities of nonsense, so I let them make a fool of me." " Is that all ? " asked Jo, as Mrs. March looked silently at the downcast face of her pretty daughter, Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 121 and could not find it in her heart to blame her little follies. "No; I drank champagne and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether abominable," said Meg self- reproachfully. " There is something more, I think; " and Mrs. March smoothed the soft cheek, which suddenly grew rosy, as Meg answered slowly, — " Yes; it 's very silly, but I want to tell it, because I hate to have people say and think such things about us and Laurie." Then she told the various bits of gossip she had heard at the Moffats' ; and, as she spoke, Jo saw her mother fold her lips tightly, as if ill pleased that such ideas should be put into Meg's innocent mind. " Well, if that is n't the greatest rubbish I everheard," cried Jo indignantly. " Why did n't you pop out and tell them so, on the spot ? " " I could n't, it was so embarrassing for me. I could n't help hearing, at first, and then I was so angry and ashamed, I did n't remember that I ought to go away." ' " Just wait till / see Annie Moffat, and I '11 show you how to settle such ridiculous stuff. The idea of having ' plans,' and being kind to Laurie, because he 's rich, and may marry us by and by ! Won't he shout, when I tell him what those silly things say about us poor children ? " and Jo laughed, as if, on second thoughts, the thing struck her as a good joke. " If you tell Laurie, I '11 never forgive you ! She mustn't, must she, mother?" said Meg, looking distressed. " No ; never repeat that foolish gossip, and forget it as soon as you can," said Mrs. March gravely. " I was 122 Little Women very unwise to let you go among people of whom 1 know so little, — kind, I dare say, but worldly, ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people. I am more sorry than I can express for the mischief this visit may have done you, Meg." " Don't be sorry, I won't let it hurt me ; I '11 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 '11 stay with you till I 'm fit to take care of myself. But it is nice to be praised and admired, and I can't help saying I like it," said Meg, looking half ashamed of the confession. " That is perfectly natural, and quite harmless, if the liking does not become a passion, and lead one to do foolish or unmaidenly things. Learn to know and value the praise which is worth having, and to excite the admiration of excellent people by being modest as well as pretty, Meg." Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind her, looking both interested and a little perplexed ; for it was a new thing to see Meg blushing and talking about admiration, lovers, and things of that sort; and Jo felt as if, during that fort- night, her sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a world where she could not follow. " Mother, do you have * plans,' as Mrs. Moffat said?" asked Meg bashfully. " Yes, my dear, I have a great many; all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right, on a very serious subject. You are Meg Goes to Vanity Fair 123 young, Meg, but not too young to understand me ; and mothers' lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my ' plans,' and help me carry them out, if they are good." Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way, — " I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good ; to be admired, loved, and respected ; to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman ; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg; right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it ; so that, when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, — marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing, — and, when well used, a noble thing, — but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I 'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace." " Poor girls don't stand any chance. Belle says, unless they put themselves forward," sighed Meg. " Then we '11 be old maids," said Jo stoutly. 124 Little Women " Right, Jo ; better be happy old maids than un- happy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands," said Mrs. March decidedly. " Don't be troubled, Meg; poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time ; make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls : mother is always ready to be your confidant, father to be your friend ; and both of us trust and hope that our daugh- ters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives." " We will, Marmee, we will ! " cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good-night. CHAPTER X THE P. C. AND P. O. AS spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with. Hannah used to say, " I 'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny; " and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange-tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments ; this year it was to be a plantation Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy Page 124 The P. C. and P. O. 125 of sun-flowers, the seeds of which cheerful and aspiring plant were to feed " Aunt Cockle-top," and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned, fragrant flowers in her garden, — sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the bird, and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers, — rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, — with honeysuckles and morning-glories hang- ing their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it; tall, white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there. Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower-hunts employed the fine days ; and for rainy ones, they had house diversions, — some old, some new, — all more or less original. One of these was the " P. C." ; for, as secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one ; and, as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows : Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table, on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big " P. C." in dif- ferent colors on each, and the weekly newspaper, called " The Pickwick Portfolio," to which all contributed something; while Jo, who revelled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven o'clock, the four members as- cended to the club-room, tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick; Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass; Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman ; and Amy, who was always trying to do what she could n't, was Nathaniel 126 Little Women Winkle. Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they goodnaturedly reminded each other of their faults and short-comings. On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spec- tacles without any glasses, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and, having stared hard at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged himself properly, began to read : — The P. C. and P. O. 127 " Cibe picfeluCcfe portfolio " MAY 20, 18- ^oet's Corner. ANNIVERSARY ODE. Again we meet to celebrate With badge and solemn rite, Our fifty-second anniversary, In Pickwick Hall, to-night. We all are here in perfect health, None gone from our small band ; Again we see each well-known face, And press each friendly hand. Our Pickwick, always at his post, With reverence we greet, As, spectacles on nose, he reads Our well-filled weekly sheet. Although he suffers from a cold, We joy to hear him speak. For words of wisdom from him fall, In spite of croak or squeak. Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high, With elephantine grace. And beams upon the company. With brown and jovial face. Poetic fire lights up his eye, He struggles 'gainst his lot. Behold ambition on his brow, And on his nose a blot ! Next our peaceful Tupman comes, So rosy, plump, and sweet, Who chokes with laughter at the puns, And tumbles off his seat. Prim little Winkle too is here, With every hair in place, A model of propriety, Though he hates to wash his face. The year is gone, we still unite To joke and laugh and read, And tread the path of literature That doth to glory lead. Long may our paper prosper well, Our club unbroken be, And coming years their blessings pour On the useful, gay " P. C." A. Snodgrass. THE MASKED MARRIAGE. A TALE OF VENICE. Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the stately halls of Count de Adelon. Knights and ladies, elvei 28 Little Women and pages, monks and flower-girls, all mingled gayly in the dance. Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air ; and so with mirth and music the mas- querade went on. " Has your Highness seen the Lady Viola to-night ? " asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall upon his arm. " Yes ; is she not lovely, though so sad! Her dress is well chosen, too, for in a week she weds Count Antonio, whom she passionately hates." " By my faith, I envy him. Yonder he comes, arrayed like a bridegroom, except the black mask. When that is off we shall see how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though her stern father bestows her hand," re- turned the troubadour. " 'T is 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 pur- ple velvet, he motioned them to kneel. Instant silence fell upon the gay throng ; and not a sound, but the dash of foun- tains or the rustle of orange-groves sleeping in the moonlight, broke the hush, as Count de Adelon spoke thus :^ "My lords and ladies, pardon the ruse by which I have gathered you here to witness the marriage of my daughter. Father, we wait your services." All eyes turned toward the bridal party, and a low murmur of amazement went through the throng, for neither bride nor groom removed their masks. Curiosity and wonder possessed all liearts, but respect restrained all tongues till the holy rite was over. Then the eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding an explanation. "Gladly would I give it if I could; but I only know that it was the whim of my timid Viola, and I yielded to it. Now, my children, let the play end. Unmask, and receive my blessing." But neither bent the knee ; for the young bridegroom replied, in a tone that startled all listeners, as the mask fell, disclosing the noble face of Ferdinand Devereux, the artist lover; and, leaning on the breast where now flashed the star of an English earl, was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty. " My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your daughter when I could boast as high a name and vast a fortune as the Count Antonio. I can do more; for even your ambitious soul cannot re- fuse the Earl of Devereux and De Vere, when he gives his ancient name and boundless wealth in return for the beloved hand of this fair lady, now my wife." The count stood like one changed to stone; and, turning to the bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with a gay smile of triumph, " To you, my gallant friends, I can only wish that your woo- ing may prosper as mine has done ; and that you may all win as fair a bride as I have, by this masked marriage." S. Pickwick. Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel ? It is full of unruly members. THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH. Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became a vine, and bore many squashes. One day in October, when they were ripe, he picked one and took it to market. A grocer- man bought and put it in his shop. The P. C. and P. O. 129 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, ijhe lugged it home, cut it up, and boiled it in the big pot; mashed some of it, with salt and butter, for dinner; and to the rest she added a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons of sugar, nutmeg, and some crackers ; put it in a deep dish, and baked it till it was brown and nice; and next day it was eaten by a family named March. T. TUPMAN. Mr. Pickwick, Sir: — I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner 1 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 les- sons to do and no brains in future I will try to take time by the fetlock and pre- pare some work which will be all commy lafo that means all right I am in haste as it is nearly school time Yours respectably, N. Winkle. [The above is a manly and handsome acknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.l A SAD ACCIDENT. On Friday last, we were startled by a violent shock in our basement, followed by cries of distress. On rushing, in a body, to the cellar, we discovered our beloved President prostrate upon the floor, havmg tripped and fallen while getting wood for domestic purposes. A perfect scene of ruin met our eyes; for in his lall 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 situa- tion, it was discovered that he had suf- fered no injury but several bruises ; and, we are happy to add, is now doing well. Ed. THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT. It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious disap- pearance of our cherished friend, Mrs. Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large circle of warm and admir- ing friends ; for her beauty attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues en- deared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole com- munity. When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the butcher's cart ; and it is feared that some vil- lain, tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed, but no trace of her has been discovered ; and we relinquish all hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, and weep for her as one lost to us forever. A sympathizing friend sends the fol« lowing gem : — 130 Little Women A LAMENT FUR S. B. PAT PAW. We mouin ihft loss of our little pet, And sigh o'er her hapless fate, for never more by the hre she '11 sit, Nor play by die old green gate. The little grave where her infant sleeps Is 'neath the chestnut tree; But o'er hey grave we may not weep, We knov^ not where it may be. Her empty bed, her idle ball, Will never see her more ; No gentle tap, no loving purr Is heard at the parlor-door. Another cat comes after her mice, A cat with a dirty face ; But she does not hunt as our darling did, Nor play with her airy grace. Her stealthy paws tread the very hall Where Snowball used to play, But she only spits at the dogs our pet So gallantly drove away. She is useful and mild, and does her best. But she is not fair to see ; And we cannot give her your place, dear. Nor worship her as we worship thee. ADVERTISEMENTS. Miss Oranthy BujGGAnE, the accomplished Strong-Minded Lecturer, will deliver her famous Lecture on "Woman and Her Position," at Pickwick Hall, next Saturday Evening, after the usual performances. A Weekly Meeting will be held at Kitchen Place, to teach young ladies how to cook. Hannah Brown will pre- side ; and all are invited to attend. The Dustpan Society will meet on Wednesday next, and parade in the upper story of the Club House. All members to appear in uniform and shoulder their brooms at nine precisely. Mrs. Beth Bouncer will open her new assortment of Doll's Millinery next week. The latest Paris Fashions have arrived, and orders are respectfully so- licited. A New Play will appear at the Barnville Theatre, in the course of a few weeks, which will surpass anything ever seen on the American stage. "The Greek Slave, or Constantine the Avenger," is the name of this thrilling drama 1 I ! HINTS. If S. P. did n't use so much soap on his hands, he would n't always be late at breakfast. A. S. is requested not to whistle in the street. T. T., please don't forget Amy's napkin. N. W. must not fret because his dress has not nine tucks. WEEKLY REPORT. Meg — Good. Jo — Bad. Beth — Very good. Amy — Middling. The P. C. and P. O. 131 As the President finished reading the paper (which 1 beg leave to assure my readers is a bona fide copy of one written by bona fide girls once upon a time), a round of applause followed, and then Mr. Snodgrass rose to make a proposition. " Mr. President and gentlemen," he began, assuming a parliamentary attitude and tone, " I wish to propose the admission of a new member, — one who highly de- serves 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 pro- pose Mr. Theodore Laurence as an honorary member of the P. C. Come now, do have him." Jo's sudden change of tone made the girls laugh ; but all looked rather anxious, and no one said a word, as Snodgrass took his seat. " We 'II put it to vote," said the President. " All in favor of this motion please to manifest it by saying ' Ay.' " A loud response from Snodgrass, followed, to every- body's surprise, by a timid one from Beth. " Contrary minded say ' No.' " Meg and Amy were contrary minded ; and Mr. Winkle rose to say, with great elegance, " We don't wish any boys; they only joke and bounce about. This is a ladies' club, and we wish to be private and proper." " I 'm afraid he '11 laugh at our paper, and make fun of us afterward," observed Pickwick, pulling the little curl on her forehead, as she always did when doubtful. Up rose Snodgrass, very much in earnest. " Sir, I give you my word as a gentleman, Laurie won't do anything of the sort. He likes to write, and he '11 give a tone to our contributions, and keep us from being sentimental, don't you see? Wc can do so little for him, 132 Little Women and he does so much for us, I think the least we can do is to offer him a place here, and make him welcome if he comes." This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman to his feet, looking as if he had quite made up his mind. " Yes, we ought to do it, even if we are afraid. I say he may come, and his grandpa, too, if he likes." This spirited burst from Beth electrified the club, and Jo left her seat to shake hands approvingly. " Now then, vote again. Everybody remember it 's our Laurie, and say ' Ay ! ' " cried Snodgrass excitedly. " Ay ! ay ! ay ! " replied three voices at once. " Good ! Bless you ! Now, as there 's nothing like 'taking time by the fetlock,' as Winkle characteristically observes, allow me to present the new member ; " and, to the dismay of the rest of the club, Jo threw open the door of the closet, and displayed Laurie sitting on a rag-bag, flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter. "You rogue! you traitor! Jo, how could you?" cried the three girls, as Snodgrass led her friend tri- umphantly forth ; and, producing both a chair and a badge, installed him in a jiffy. " The coolness of you two rascals is amazing," began Mr. Pickwick, trying to get up an awful frown, and only succeeding in producing an amiable smile. But the new member was equal to the occasion ; and, rising, with a grateful salutation to the Chair, said, in the most engag- ing manner, " Mr. President and ladies, — I beg pardon, gentlemen, — allow me to introduce myself as Sam VVeller, the very humble servant of the club." " Good ! good ! " cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the old warming-pan on which she leaned. " My faithful friend and noble patron," continued The P. C. and P. O. 133 Laurie, with a wave of the hand, " who has so flatteringly presented me, is not to be blamed for the base stratagem of to-night. I planned it, and she only gave in after lots of teasing." " Come now, don't lay it all on yourself; you know I proposed the cupboard," broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the joke amazingly. " Never you mind what she says. I 'm the wretch that did it, sir," said the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. " But on my honor, I never will do so again, and henceforth deivote myself to the interest of this immortal club." " Hear ! hear ! " cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warm- ing-pan like a cymbal. " Go on, go on ! " added Winkle and Tupman, while the President bowed benignly. ______ " I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitude for the honor done me, and as a means of pro- moting 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 w'ill hold all sorts of things, and save our valuable time. Letters, manuscripts, books, and bundles can be passed in there ; and, as each nation has a key, it will be uncommonly nice, I fancy. Allow me to present the club key; and, with many thanks for your favor, take my seat." Great applause as Mr. Weller deposited a little key on the table, and subsided ; the warming-pan clashed and waved wildly, and it was some time before order could be restored. A long discussion followed, and every one 134 Little Women came out surprising, for every one did her best; so it was an unusually lively meeting, and did not adjourn till a late hour, when it broke up with three shrill cheers for the new member. No one ever regretted the admittance of Sam Weller, for a more devoted, well-behaved, and jovial member no club could have. He certainly did add "spirit" to the meetings, and "a tone" to the paper; for his orations convulsed his hearers, and his contributions were excellent, being patriotic, classical, comical, or dramatic, but never sentimental. Jo regarded them as worthy of Bacon, Milton, or Shakespeare; and remodelled her own works with good effect, she thought. The P. O. was a capital little institution, and flourished wonderfully, for nearly as many queer things passed through it as through the real office. Tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden-seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings and puppies. The old gentleman liked the fun, and amused himself by sending odd bundles, mysterious messages, and funny telegrams ; and his gardener, who was smitten with Hannah's charms, actually sent a love-letter to Jo's care. How they laughed when the secret came out, never dreaming how many love-letters that little post-office would hold in the years to come ! CHAPTER XI EXPERIMENTS " r I "^HE first of June ! The Kings are off to the I sea-shore to-morrow, and I 'm free. Three JL months' vacation, — how I shall enjoy it ! " exclaimed Meg, coming home one warm day to find Jo Experiments 135 laid upon the sofa in an unusual state of exhaustion, while Beth took off her dusty boots, and Amy made lemonade for the refreshment of the whole party. " Aunt March went to-day, for which, oh, be joyful ! " said Jo. " I was mortally afraid she 'd ask me to go with her; if she had, I should have felt as if I ought to do it; but Plumfield is about as gay as a churchyard, you know, and I 'd rather be excused. We had a flurry getting the old lady off, and I had a fright every time she spoke to me, for I was in such a hurry to be through that I was uncommonly helpful and sweet, and feared she 'd find it impossible to part from me. I quaked till she was fairly in the carriage, and had a final fright, for, as it drove off, she popped out her head, saying, '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." " Poor old Jo ! she came in looking as if bears were after her," said Beth, as she cuddled her sister's feet with a motherly air. " Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not ? " ob- served Amy, tasting her mixture critically. " She means vampire, not sea-weed ; but it does n't matter; it's too warm to be particular about one's parts of speech," murmured Jo. " What shall you do all your vacation ? " asked Amy, changing the subject, with tact. " I shall lie abed late, and do nothing," replied Meg, from the depths of the rocking-chair. " I 've been routed up early all winter, and had to spend my days working for other people ; so now I 'm going to rest and revel to my heart's content." "No," said Jo; "that dozy way wouldn't suit me. I 've laid in a heap of books, and I 'm going to improve 136 Little Women my shining hours reading on my perch in the ©Id apple- tree, when I 'm not having 1 — " " Don't say ' larks ! ' " implored Amy, as a return snub for the " samphire" correction. "I'll say 'nightingales,' then, with Laurie; that's proper and appropriate, since he 's a warbler." " Don't let us do any lessons, Beth, for a while, but play all the time, and rest, as the girls mean to," proposed Amy. " Well, I will, if mother does n't mind. I want to learn some new songs, and my children need fitting up for the summer ; they are dreadfully out of order, and really suffering for clothes. " " May we, mother? " asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing, in what they called " Marmee's corner." " You may try your experiment for a week, and see how you like it. I think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as bad as all work and no play." " Oh, dear, no ! it will be delicious, I 'm sure," said Meg complacently. " I now propose a toast, as my ' friend and pardner, Sairy Gamp,' says. Fun forever, and no grubbing ! " cried Jo, rising, glass in hand, as the lemonade went round. They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging for the rest of the day. Next morning, Meg did not appear till ten o'clock ; her solitary breakfast did not taste nice, and the room seemed lonely and untidy ; for Jo had not filled the vases, Beth had not dusted, and Amy's books lay scattered about. Nothing was neat and pleasant but " Marmee's corner," which looked as usual ; and there Meg sat, to " rest and read," which meant yawn, and imagine what pretty summer dresses Experiments 137 she would get with her salary. Jo spent the morning on the river, with Laurie, and the afternoon reading and crying over " The Wide, Wide World," up in the apple- tree. Beth began by rummaging everything out of the big closet, where her family resided ; but, getting tired before half done, she left her establishment topsy-turvy, and went to her music, rejoicing that she had no dishes to wash. Amy arranged her bower, put on her best white frock, smoothed her curls, and sat down to draw, under the honeysuckles, hoping some one would see and inquire who the young artist was. As no one appeared but an inquisitive daddy-long-legs, who examined her work with interest, she went to walk, got caught in a shower, and came home dripping. At tea-time they compared notes, and all agreed that it had been a delightful, though unusually long day. Meg, who went shopping in the afternoon, and got a " sweet blue muslin," had discovered, after she had cut the breadths off, that it would n't wash, which mishap made her slightly cross. Jo had burnt the skin off her nose boating, and got a raging headache by reading too long. Beth was worried by the confusion of her closet, and the difficulty of learning three or four songs at once ; and Amy deeply regretted the damage done her frock, for Katy Brown's party was to be the next day ; and now, like Flora McFlimsey, she had " nothing to wear." But these were mere trifles ; and they assured their mother that the experiment was working finely. She smiled, said nothing, and, with Hannah's help, did their neglected work, keeping home pleasant, and the domestic machinery running smoothly. It was aston- ishing what a peculiar and uncomfortable state of things was produced by the "resting and revelling" process. The days kept getting longer and longer; the weathei 138 Little Women was unusually variable, and so were tempers ; an un- settled feeling possessed every one, and Satan found plenty of mischief for the idle hands to do. As the height of luxury, Meg put out some of her sewing, and then found time hang so heavily that she fell to snipping and spoiling her clothes, in her attempts to furbish them up 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 con- stantly forgetting that it was to be all play, and no work, and fell back into her old ways now and then ; but something in the air affected her, and, more than once, her tranquillity was much disturbed ; so much so, that, on one occasion, she actually shook poor dear Joanna, and told her she was " a fright." Amy fared worst of all, for her resources were small ; and when her sisters left her to amuse and care for herself, she soon found that accomplished and important little self a great burden. She did n't like dolls, fairy-tales were childish, and one couldn't draw all the time; tea-parties didn't amount to much, neither did picnics, unless very well conducted. " If one could have a fine house, full of nice girls, or go travelling, the summer would be delight- ful ; but to stay at home with three selfish sisters and a grown-up boy was enough to try the patience of a Boaz," complained Miss Malaprop, after several days devoted to pleasure, fretting; and ennui. No one would own that they were tired of the experi- ment ; but, by Friday night, each acknowledged to her- self 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 ofif Experiments 139 the trial in an appropriate manner; so she gave Hannah a holiday, and let the girls enjoy the full effect of the play system. When they got up on Saturday morning, there was no fire in the kitchen, no breakfast in the dining-room, and no mother anywhere to be seen. "Mercy on us! what Jias happened?" cried Jo, staring about her in dismay. Meg ran upstairs, and soon came back again, looking relieved, but rather bewildered, and a little ashamed. " Mother is n'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 does n't act a bit like herself; but she says it has been a hard week for her, so we must n't grumble, but take care of ourselves." "That 's easy enough, and I like the idea ; I 'm aching for something to do — that is, some new amusement, you know," added Jo quickly. In fact it tvas an immense relief to them all to have a little work, and they took hold with a will, but soon realized the truth of Hannah's saying, " Housekeeping ain't no joke." There was plenty of food in the larder, and, while Beth and Amy set the table, Meg and Jo got breakfast, wondering, as they did so, why servants ever talked about hard work. " I shall take some up to mother, though she said we were not to think of her, for she 'd take care of herself," said Meg, who presided, and felt quite matronly behind the teapot. So a tray was fitted out before any one began, and taken up, with the cook's compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelette scorched, and the biscuits speckled with saleratus; but Mrs. March received her 140 Little Women repast with thanks, and laughed heartily over it after Jo was gone. " Poor little souls, they will have a hard time, I 'm afraid ; but they won't suffer, and it will do them good," she said, producing the more palatable viands with which she had provided herself, and disposing of the bad breakfast, so that their feelings might not be hurt, — a motherly little deception, for which they were grateful. Many were the complaints below, and great the chagrin of the head cook at her failures, " Never mind, I '11 get the dinner, and be servant ; you be mistress, keep your hands nice, see company, and give orders," said Jo, who knew still less than Meg about culinary affairs. This obliging offer was gladly accepted ; and Mar- garet 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 per- fect faith in her own powers, and a friendly desire to make up the quarrel, immediately put a note in the office, inviting Laurie to dinner. " You 'd better see what you have got before you think of having company," said Meg, when informed of the hospitable but rash act. " Oh, there 's corned beef and plenty of potatoes ; and I shall get some asparagus, and a lobster, * for a relish,' as Hannah says. We '11 have lettuce, and make a salad. I don't know how, but the book tells. I '11 have blanc- mange and strawberries for dessert; and coffee, too, if you want to be elegant." " Don't try too many messes, Jo, for you can't make anything but gingerbread and molasses candy, fit to eat. I wash my hands of the dinner-party; and, since you Experiments 141 have asked Laurie on your own responsibility, you may just take care of him." " I don't want you to do anything but be civil to him, and help to the pudding. You '11 give me your advice if I get in a muddle, won't you? " asked Jo, rather hurt. " Yes ; but I don't know much, except about bread, and a few trifles. You had better ask mother's leave before you order anything," returned Meg prudently. " Of course I shall ; I 'm not a fool," and Jo went off in a huff at the doubts expressed of her powers. "Get what you like, and don't disturb me; I'm go- ing out to dinner, and can't worry about things at home," said Mrs. March, when Jo spoke to her. " I never enjoyed housekeeping, and I 'm going to take a vacation to-day, and read, write, go visiting, and amuse myself." The unusual spectacle of her busy mother rocking comfortably, and reading, early in the morning, made Jo feel as if some natural phenomenon had occurred; for an eclipse, an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption would hardly have seemed stranger. " Everything is out of sorts, somehow," she said to herself, going down stairs. "There's Beth crying; that 's a sure sign that something is wrong with this family. If Amy is bothering, I'll shake her." Feeling very much out of sorts herself, Jo hurried into the parlor to find Beth sobbing over Pip, the canary, who lay dead in the cage, with his little claws pathetic- ally extended, as if imploring the food for want of which he had died. " It 's all my fault — I forgot him — there is n't a seed or a drop left. O Pip ! O Pip ! how could I be so cruel to you? "cried Beth, taking the poor thing in her hands, and trying to restore him. 142 Little Women Jo peeped into his half-open eye, felt his little heart, and finding him stiff and cold, shook her head, and offered her domino-box for a coffin. " Put him in the ov^en, and maybe he will get warm and revive," said Amy hopefully. , " He 's been starved, and he sha'n't be baked, now he 's dead. I '11 make him a shroud, and he shall be buried in the garden ; and I '11 never have another bird, never, my Pip ! for I am too bad to own one," murmured Beth, sitting on the floor with her pet folded in her hands. " The funeral shall be this afternoon, and we will all go. Now, don't cry, Bethy ; it 's a pity, but nothing goes right this week, and Pip has had the worst of the experiment. Make the shroud, and lay him in my box ; and, after the dinner-party, we '11 have a nice little funeral," said Jo, beginning to feel as if she had under- taken a good deal. Leaving the others to console Beth, she departed to the kitchen, which was in a most discouraging state of confusion. Putting on a big apron, she fell to work, and got the dishes piled up ready for washing, when she discovered that the fire was out. " Here 's a sweet prospect ! " muttered Jo, slamming the stove-door open, and poking vigorously among the cinders. Having rekindled the fire, she thought she would go to market while the water heated. The walk revived her spirits ; and, flattering herself that she had made good bargains, she trudged home again, after buying a very young lobster, some very old asparagus, and two boxes of acid strawberries. By the time she got cleared up, the dinner arrived, and the stove was red-hot. Hannah had left a pan of bread to rise, Meg had worked it up Experiments 143 early, set it on the hearth for a second rising, and for- gotten it. Meg was entertaining Sallie Gardiner in the parlor, when the door flew open, and a floury, crocky, flushed, and dishevelled figure appeared, demanding tartly, ~ " I say, is n't bread ' riz ' enough when it runs over the pans? " Sallie began to laugh; but Meg nodded, and lifted her eyebrows as high as they would go, which caused the apparition to vanish, and put the sour bread into the oven without further delay. Mrs. March went out, after peeping here and there to see how matters went, also saying a word of comfort to Beth, who sat making a winding-sheet, while the dear departed lay in state in the domino-box. A strange sense of helplessness fell upon the girls as the gray bonnet vanished round the corner; and despair seized them, when, a few minutes later, Miss Crocker appeared, and said she 'd come to dinner. Now, this lady was a thin, yellow spinster, with a sharp nose and inquisitfve eyes, who saw everything, and gossiped about all she saw. They disliked her, but had been taught to be kind to her, simply because she was old and poor, and had few friends. So Meg gave her the easy-chair, and tried to entertain her, while she asked questions, criticised everything, and told stories of the people whom she knew. Language cannot describe the anxieties, experiences, and exertions which Jo underwent that morning; and the dinner she served up became a standing joke. Fear- ing 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 as- paragus for an hour, and was grieved to find the heads cooked off and the stalks harder than ever The bread 144 Little Women burnt black ; for the salad-dressing so aggravated her, that she let everything else go till she had convinced herself that she could not make it fit to eat. The lobster was a scarlet mystery to her, but she hammered and poked, till it was unshelled, and its meagre proportions concealed in a grove of lettuce-leaves. The potatoes had to be hurried, not to keep the asparagus waiting, and were not done at last. The blanc-mange was lumpy, and the strawberries not as ripe as they looked, having been skilfully " deaconed." " Well, they can eat beef, and bread and butter, if they are hungry ; only it 's mortifying to have to spend your whole morning for nothing," thought Jo, as she rang the bell half an hour later than usual, and stood, hot, tired, and dispirited, surveying the feast spread for Laurie, accustomed to all sorts of elegance, and Miss Crocker, whose curious eyes would mark all failures, and whose tattling tongue would report them far and wide. Poor Jo would gladly hav'fe gone under the table, as one thing after another w^as tasted and left ; while Amy giggled, Meg looked distressed, Miss Crocker pursed up her lips, and Laurie talked and laughed with all his might, to give a cheerful tone to the festive scene. Jo's one strong point was the fruit, for she had sugared it well, and had a pitcher of rich cream to eat with it. Her hot cheeks cooled a trifle, and she drew a long breath, as the pretty glass plates went round, and every one looked graciously at the little rosy islands floating in a sea of cream. Miss Crocker tasted first, made a wry face, and drank some water hastily. Jo, who had refused, thinking there might not be enough, for they dwindled sadly after the picking over, glanced at Laurie, but he was eating away manfully, though there was a Experiments 145 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. " Oh, what is it? " exclaimed Jo, trembling. " Salt instead of sugar, and the cream is sour," replied Meg, with a tragic gesture. Jo uttered a groan, and fell back in her chair; remem- bering 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 cr}'ing, when she met Laurie's eyes, which would look merry in spite of his heroic efforts; the comical side of the affair sud- denly struck her, and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. So did every one else, even '" Cruaker," as the girls called the old lady ; and the unfortunate dinner ended gayly, with bread and butter, olives and fun. " I have n't strength of mind enough to clear up now, so we will sober ourselves with a funeral," said Jo, as they rose ; and Miss Crocker made ready to go, being eager to tell the new story at another friend's dinner- table. They did sober themselves, for Beth's sake ; Laurie dug a grave under the ferns in the grove, little Pip was laid in, with many tears, by his tender-hearted mistress, and covered with moss, while a wreath of violets and chickweed was hung on the stone which bore his epitaph, composed by Jo, while she struggled with the dinner: — " Here lies Pip March, Who died the 7th of June ; Loved and lamented sore. And not forgotten soon." 10 146 Little Women At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room, overcome with emotion and lobster ; but there was no place of repose, for the beds were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged by beating up pillows and putting things in order. Meg helped Jo clear away the remains of the feast, which took half the afternoon, and left them so tired that they agreed to be contented with tea and toast for supper. Laurie took Amy to drive, which was a deed of charity, for the sour cream seemed to have had a bad effect upon her temper, Mrs. March came home to find the three older girls hard at work in the middle of the afternoon ; and a glance at the closet gave her an idea of the success of one part of the ex- periment. Before the housewives could rest, several people called, and there was a scramble to get ready to see them ; then tea must be got, errands done ; and one or two necessary bits of sewing neglected till the last minute. As twilight fell, dewy and still, one by one they gathered in the porch where the June roses were budding beautifully, and each groaned or sighed as she sat down, as if tired or troubled. " What a dreadful day this has been ! " begun Jo, usually the first to speak. " It has seemed shorter than usual, but so uncomfort- able," said Meg. " Not a bit like home," added Amy. " It can't seem so without Marmee and little Pip," sighed Beth, glancing, with full eyes, at the empty cage above her head. " Here 's mother, dear, and you shall have another bird to-morrow, if you want it." As she spoke, Mrs. March came and took her place among them, looking as if her holiday had not been much pleasanter than theirs. Experiments 147 "Are you satisfied with your experiment, girls, or do you want another week of it?" she asked, as Beth nestled up to her, and the rest turned toward her with brightening faces, as flowers turn toward the sun. " I don't ! " cried Jo decidedly. " Nor I," echoed the others. " You think, then, that it is better to have a few duties, and live a little for others, do you? " " Lounging and larking does n't pay," observed Jo, shaking her head. " I 'm tired of it, and mean to go to work at something right off." "Suppose you learn plain cooking; that's a useful accomplishment, which no woman should be without," said Mrs. March, laughing inaudibly at the recollection of Jo's dinner-party; for she had met Miss Crocker, and heard her account of it. " Mother, did you go away and let everything be, just to see how we'd get on?" cried Meg, who had had suspicions all day. " Yes ; I wanted you to see how the comfort of all depends on each doing her share faithfully. While Han- nah 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 hap- pens when every one thinks only of herself Don't you feel that it is pleasanter to help one another, to have daily duties which make leisure sweet when it comes, and to bear and forbear, that home may be comfortable and lovely to us all?" " We do, mother, we do ! " cried the girls. " Then let me advise you to take up your little burdens again ; for though they seem heavy sometimes, they are good for us, and lighten as we learn to carry them. Work is wholesome, and there is plenty for every one: 148 Little Women it keeps us from cnjiui and mischief, is good for health and spirits, and gives us a sense of power and indepen- dence better than money or fashion." " We '11 work like bees, and love it too ; see if we don't! " said Jo. " I'll learn plain cooking for my holi- day task; and the next dinner-party I have shall be a success." " I '11 make the set of shirts for father, instead of letting you do it, Marmee. I can and I will, though I 'm not fond of sewing ; that will be better than fussing over my own things, which are plenty nice enough as they are," said Meg. " I '11 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 resolu- tion ; while Amy followed their example by heroically declaring, " I shall learn to make buttonholes, and attend to my parts of speech." "Very good! then I am quite satisfied with the ex- periment, 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 }'outh will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and Hfe become a beautiful success, in spite of poverty." " We '11 remember, mother ! " and they did. Camp Laurence 149 CHAPTER XII CAMP LAURENCE BETH was post-mistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door and dis- tributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels, Hke the penny post. " Here 's your posy, mother ! Laurie never forgets that," she said, putting the fresh nosegay in the vase that stood in " Marmee's corner," and was kept supplied by the affectionate boy. " Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove," continued Beth, delivering the articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands. '* Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one," said Meg, looking at the gray cotton glove. " Did n't you drop the other in the garden?" " No, I 'm sure I did n't ; for there was only one in the office." " I hate to have odd gloves ! Never mind, the other may be found. My letter is only a translation of the German song I wanted; I think Mr. Brooke did it, for this is n't Laurie's writing." Mrs. March glanced at Meg, who was looking very pretty in her gingham morning-gown, with the little curls blowing about her forehead, and very womanly, as she sat sewing at her little work-table, full of tidy white rolls ; so unconscious of the thought in her mother's mind as she sewed and sung, while her fingers flew, and her thoughts were busied with girlish fancies as innocent and fresh as i^o Little Women the pansies in her belt, that Mrs. March smiled, and was satisfied. " Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered the whole post-office, stuck outside," said Beth, laughing, as she went into the study, where Jo sat writing. "What a sly fellow Laurie is ! I said I wished bigger hats were the fashion, because I burn my face every hot day. He said, ' Why mind the fashion ? Wear a big hat, and be comfortable ! ' I said I would if I had one, and he has sent me this, to try me. I '11 wear it, for fun, and show him I dofit care for the fashion ; " and, hanging the antique broad-brim on a bust of Plato, Jo read her letters. One from her mother made her cheeks glow and her eyes fill, for it said to her, — " My dear : " I write a little word to tell you with how much satisfaction I watch your efforts to control your temper. You say nothing about your trials, failures, or successes, and think, perhaps, that no one sees them but the Friend whose help you daily ask, if I may trust the well-worn cover of your guide-book. /, 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 sympa- thizes more tenderly with you than your loving "Mother." " That does me good ! that 's worth millions of money and pecks of praise. O Marmee, I do try ! I will keep on trying, and not get tii;ed, since I have you to help me. Laying her head on her arms, Jo wet her little romance with a few happy tears, for she liad thought that no one Camp Laurence 151 saw and appreciated her efiforts to be good ; and this assurance was doubly precious, doubly encouraging, be- cause unexpected, and from the person whose commen- dation she most valued. Feeling stronger than ever to meet and subdue her Apollyon, she pinned the note in- side 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, dash- ing hand, Laurie wrote, — "Dear Jo, What ho ! Some English girls and boys are coming to see me to-morrow and 1 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 '11 see to that, and every- thing else, — only do come, there 's a good fellow ! " In a tearing hurry, Yours ever, Laurie." " Here 's richness ! " cried Jo, flying in to tell the news to Meg. " Of course we can go, mother? it will be such a help to Laurie, for I can row, and Meg see to the lunch, and the children be useful in some way." " I hope the Vaughns are not fine, grown-up people Do you know anything about them, Jo?" asked Meg. " Only that there are four of them. Kate is older than you, Fred and Frank ftwins) about my age, and a little girl (Grace), who is nine or ten. Laurie knew them 152 Little Women abroad, and liked the boys; I fancied, from the way he primmed up his mouth in speaking of her, that he did n't admire Kate much." " I 'm so glad my French print is clean ; it 's just the thing, and so becoming ! " observed Meg complacently. " Have you anything decent, Jo? " " Scarlet and gray boating suit, good enough for me. I shall row and tramp about, so I don't want any starch to think of. You '11 come, Betty? " " If you won't let any of the boys talk to me." " Not a boy ! " " I like to please Laurie ; and I 'm not afraid of Mr. Brooke, he is so kind ; but I don't want to play, or sing, or say anything. I '11 work hard, and not trouble any one ; and you '11 take care of me, Jo, so I '11 go." "That's my good girl; you do try to fight off your shyness, and I love you for it. Fighting faults is n't easy, as I know; and a cheery word kind of gives a lift. Thank you, mother," and Jo gave the thin cheek a grate- ful kiss, more precious to Mrs. March than if it had given back the rosy roundness of her youth. " I had a box of chocolate drops, and the picture I wanted to copy," said Amy, showing her mail. " And I got a note from Mr. Laurence, asking me to come over and play to him to-night, before the lamps are lighted, and I shall go," added Beth, whose friendship with the old gentleman prospered finely. " Now let 's fly round, and do double duty to-day, so that we can play to-morrow with free minds," said Jo, preparing to replace her pen with a broom. When the sun peeped into the girls' room early next morning, to promise them a fine day, he saw a comical sight. Each had made such preparation for the f6te as seemed necessary and proper. Meg had an extra row Camp Laurence 153 of little curl-papers across her forehead, Jo had copiously anointed her afflicted face with cold cream, Beth had taken Joanna to bed with her to atone for the approaching sep- aration, and Amy had capped the climax by putting a clothes-pin on her nose, to uplift the offending feature. It was one of the kind artists use to hold the paper on their drawing-boards, therefore quite appropriate and effective for the purpose to which it was now put. This funny spectacle appeared to amuse the sun, for he burst out with such radiance that Jo woke up, and roused all her sisters by a hearty laugh at Amy's ornament. Sunshine and laughter were good omens for a pleasure party, and soon a lively bustle began in both houses. Beth, who was ready first, kept reporting what went on next door, and enlivened her sisters' toilets by frequent telegrams from the window. " There goes the man with the tent ! I see Mrs. Barker doing up the lunch in a hamper and a great basket. Now Mr. Laurence is looking up at the sky, and the weathercock ; I wish he would go, too. There 's Laurie, looking like a sailor, — nice boy ! Oh, mercy me ! here 's a carriage full of people — a tall lady, a little girl, and two dreadful boys. One is lame ; poor thing, he 's got a crutch. Laurie did n't tell us that. Be quick, girls ! it's getting late. Why, there is Ned Moffat, I do declare. Look, Meg, is n't that the man who bowed to you one day, when we were shopping?" " So it is. How queer that he should come. I thought he was at the Mountains. There is Sallie ; I 'm glad she got back in time. Am I all right, Jo?" cried Meg, in a flutter. " A regular daisy. Hold up your dress and put your hat straight ; it looks sentimental tipped that way, and will fly off at the first puff. Now, then, come on ! " I 54 Little Women " O Jo, you are not going to wear that awful hat ? It 's too absurd ! You shall 7iot make a guy of yourself," remonstrated Meg, as Jo tied down, with a red ribbon, the broad-brimmed, old-fashioned Leghorn Laurie had sent for a joke. " I just will, though, for it 's capital, — so shady, light, and big. It will make fun ; and I don't mind being a guy if I 'm comfortable." With that Jo marched straight away, and the rest followed, — a bright little band of sis- ters, all looking their best, in summer suits, with happy faces under the jaunty hat-brims. Laurie ran to meet, and present them to his friends, in the most cordial manner. The lawn was the reception- room, and for several minutes a lively scene was enacted there. Meg was grateful to see that Miss Kate, though twenty, was dressed with a simplicity which American girls would do well to imitate ; and she was much flattered by Mr. Ned's assurances that he came especially to see her. Jo understood why Laurie " primmed up his mouth " when speaking of Kate, for that young lady had a stand-ofif-don't-touch-me air, which contrasted strongly with the free and easy demeanor of the other girls. Beth took an observation of the new boys, and decided that the lame one was not " dreadful," but gentle and feeble, and she would be kind to him on that account. Amy found Grace a well-mannered, merry little person ; and after staring dumbly at one another for a few minutes, they suddenly became very good friends. Tents, lunch, and croquet utensils having been sent on beforehand, the party was soon embarked, and the two boats pushed off together, leaving Mr. Laurence waving his hat on the shore. Laurie and Jo rowed one boat; Mr. Brooke and Ned the other; while Fred Vaughn, the riotous twin, did his best to upset both by paddling about Camp Laurence 155 in a wherry like a disturbed water-bug. Jo's funny hat deserved a vote of thanks, for it was of general utility ; it broke the ice in the beginning, by producing a laugh; it created quite a refreshing breeze, flapping to and fro, as she rowed, and would make an excellent umbrella for the whole party, if a shower came up, she said. Kate looked rather amazed at Jo's proceedings, especially as she exclaimed " Christopher Columbus ! " when she lost her oar; and Laurie said, " My dear fellow, did I hurt you?" when he tripped over her feet in taking his place. But after putting up her glass to examine the queer girl several times. Miss Kate decided that she was " odd, but rather clever," and smiled upon her from afar. 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 dex- terity." 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 encyclopaedia 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. 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. 156 Little Women " Welcome to Camp Laurence ! " said the young host, as they landed, with exclamations of delight. " Brooke is commander-in-chief; I am commissary- general ; the other fellows are staff-officers ; and you, ladies, are company. The tent is for your especial bene- fit, and that oak is your drawing-room ; this is the mess- room, and the third is the camp-kitchen. Now, let 's have a game before it gets hot, and then we '11 see about dinner." Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game played by the other eight. Mr. Brooke chose Meg, Kate, and Fred ; Laurie took Sallie, Jo, and Ned. The Englishers played well ; but the Americans played better, and contested every inch of the ground as strongly as if the spirit of '76 inspired them. Jo and Fred had several skirmishes, and once narrowly escaped high words. Jo was through the last wicket, and had missed the stroke, which failure ruffled her a good deal. Fred was close behind her, and his turn came before hers; he gave a stroke, his ball hit the wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was very near ; and running up to examine, he gave it a sly nudge with his toe, which put it just an inch on the right side. " I 'm through ! Now, Miss Jo, I '11 settle you, and get in first," cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow. " You pushed it; I saw you; it's my turn now," said Jo sharply. "Upon my word, I didn't move it; it rolled a bit, perhaps, but that is allowed ; so stand off, please, and let me have a go at the stake." " We don't cheat in America, but you can, if you choose," said Jo angrily. " Yankees are a deal the most tricky, everybody Camp Laurence 157 knows. There you go ! " returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away. Jo opened her lips to say something rude, but checked herself in time, colored up to her forehead, and stood a minute, hammering down a wicket with all her might, while Fred hit the stake, and declared himself out with much exultation. She went off to get her ball, and was a long time finding it, among the bushes ; but she came back, looking cool and quiet, and waited her turn pa- tiently. It took several strokes to regain the place she had lost ; and, when she got there, the other side had near'y won, for Kate's ball was the last but one, and lay near the stake. ^' By George, it's all up with us! Good-by, Kate. Miss Jo owes me one, so you are finished," cried Fred excitedly, as they all drew near to see the finish. " Yankees have a trick of being generous to their enemies," said Jo, with a look that made the lad redden, " especially when they beat them," she added, as, leav- ing Kate's ball untouched, she won the game by a clever stroke. Laurie threw up his hat; then remembered that it would n't do to exult over the defeat of his guests, and stopped in the middle of a cheer to whisper to his friend, — " Good for you, Jo ! He did cheat, I saw him ; we can't tell him so, but he won't do it again, take my word for it." Meg drew her aside, under pretence of pinning up a loose braid, and said approvingly, — "It was dreadfully provoking; but you kept your temper, and I 'm so glad, Jo." " Don't praise me, Meg, for I could box his ears this minute. I should certainly have boiled over if I had n't 158 Little Women stayed among the nettles till I got my rage under enough to hold my tongue. It 's simmering now, so I hope he '11 keep out of my way," returned Jo, biting her lips, as she glowered at Fred from under her big hat. "Time for lunch," said Mr. Brooke, looking at his watch. " Commissary-general, will you make the fire and get water, while Miss March, Miss Sallie, and I spread the table? Who can make good coffee?" " Jo can," said Meg, glad to recommend her sister. So Jo, feeling that her late lessons in cookery were to do her honor, went to preside over the coffee-pot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys made a fire, and got water from a spring near by. Miss Kate sketched, and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes to serve as plates. The commander-in-chief and his aids soon spread the table-cloth with an inviting array of eatables and drink- ables, prettily decorated with green leaves. Jo an- nounced that the coffee was ready, and every one settled themselves to a hearty meal ; for youth is seldom dys- peptic, and exercise develops wholesome appetites. A very merry lunch it was ; for everything seemed fresh and funny, and frequent peals of laughter startled a ven- erable horse who fed near by. There was a pleasing ine- quality in the table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates ; acorns dropped into the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree, to see what was going on. Three white-headed children peeped over the fence, and an objectionable dog barked at them from the other side of the river with all his might and main. " There 's salt here, if you prefer it," said Laurie, as he handed Jo a saucer of berries. Camp Laurence 159 "Thank you, I prefer spiders," she replied, fishing up two unwary little ones who had gone to a creamy death. " How dare you remind me of that horrid dinner-party, when yours is so nice in every way? " added Jo, as they both laughed, and ate out of one plate, the china having run short. " I had an uncommonly good time that day, and have n't got over it yet. This is no credit to me, you know; I don't do anything; it's you and Meg and Brooke who make it go, and I 'm no end obliged to you. What shall we do when we can't eat any more?" asked Laurie, feeling that his trump card had been played when lunch was over. " Have games, till it's cooler. I brought 'Authors,' and I dare say Miss Kate knows something new and nice. Go and ask her; she's company, and you ought to stay with her more." "Aren't you company too? I thought she'd suit Brooke; but he keeps talking to Meg, and Kate just stares at them through that ridiculous glass of hers. I 'm going, so you need n't try to preach propriety, for you can't do it, Jo." Miss Kate did know several new games ; and as the girls would not, and the boys could not, eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing-room to play " Rig- marole." " 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 i6o Little Women Lying on the grass at the feet of the two young ladies, Mr. Brooke obediently began the story, with the hand- some brown eyes steadily fixed upon the sunshiny river. " Once on a time, a knight went out into the world to seek his fortune, for he had nothing but his sword and his shield. He travelled a long while, nearly eight- and-twenty years, and had a hard time of it, till he came to the palace of a good old king, who had offered a reward to any one who would tame and train a fine but unbroken colt, of which he was very fond. The knight agreed to try, and got on slowly but surely ; for the colt was a gallant fellow, and soon learned to love his new master, though he was freakish and wild. Every day, when he gave his lessons to this pet of the king's, the knight rode him through the city; and, as he rode, he looked everywhere for a certain beautiful face, which he had seen many times in his dreams, but never found. One day, as he went prancing down a quiet street,- he saw at the window of a ruinous castle the lovely face. He was delighted, inquired who lived in this old castle, and was told that several captive princesses were kept there by a spell, and spun all day to lay up money to buy their liberty. The knight wished intensely that he could free them ; but he was poor, and could only go by each day, watching for the sweet face, and longing to see it out in the sunshine. At last he resolved to get into the castle and ask how he could help them. He went and knocked ; the great door flew open, and he be- held — " " 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. " ' 'T is she ! ' cried Count Gustave, and fell at her feet in an ecstasy of joy. ' Oh, rise ! ' she said, extending a hand Camp Laurence i6i 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 fling- ing open the door of the mauve salon, was about to enter, when he received — " " A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow in a black gown fired at him," said Ned. " Instantly Sir What 's-his-name recovered himself, pitched the tyrant out of the window, and turned to join the lady, victorious, but with a bump on his brow; found the door locked, tore up the curtains, made a rope ladder, got half-way down when the ladder broke, and he went head first into the moat, sixty feet below. Could swim like a duck, paddled round the castle till he came to a little door guarded by two stout fellows ; knocked their heads together till they cracked like a couple of nuts, then, by a trifling exertion of his pro- digious 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 — " " 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 corri- dor 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 1 62 Little Women eyes through its white veil. They reached a curtained door, behind which sounded lovely music; he sprang forward to enter, but the spectre plucked him back, and waved threateningly before him a — " " Snuff-box," said Jo, in a sepulchral tone, which con- vulsed the audience. "'Thankee,' said the knight po- litely, as he took a pinch, and sneezed seven times so violently that his head fell off. ' Ha ! ha ! ' laughed the ghost; and having peeped through the key-hole at the princesses spinning away for dear life, the evil spirit picked up her victim and put him in a large tin box, where there were eleven other knights packed together without their heads, like sardines, who all rose and began to — " " Dance a hornpipe," cut in Fred, as Jo paused for breath ; " and, as they danced, the rubbishy old castle turned to a man-of-war in full sail. ' Up with the jib, reef the tops'l halliards, helm hard a lee, and man the guns ! ' roared the captain, as a Portuguese pirate hove in sight, with a flag black as ink flying from her foremast. * Go in and win, my hearties ! ' says the captain ; and a tremendous fight begun. Of course the British beat; they always do." " No, they don't ! " cried Jo, aside. " Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap over the schooner, whose decks were piled with dead, and whose lee-scuppers ran blood, for the order had been ' Cutlasses, and die hard ! ' ' Bosen's mate, take a bight of the flying-jib sheet, and start this villain if he don't confess his sins double quick,' said the British cap- tain. 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 S€t, * To the bottom of the sea, sea, sea,' where — " Camp Laurence 163 " 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 bot- tom, 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 mer- maid said, ' I '11 give you this box of pearls if you can take it up ; ' for she wanted to restore the poor things to Hfe, and could n't raise the heavy load herself. So the diver hoisted it up, and was much disappointed, on open- ing it, to find no pearls. He left it in a great lonely field, where it was found by a — " " Little goose-girl, who kept a hundred fat geese in the field," said Amy, when Sallie's invention gave out. " The little girl was sorry for them, and asked an old woman what she should do to help them. ' Your geese will tell you, they know everything,' said the old woman. So she asked what she should use for new heads, since the old ones were lost, and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and screamed — " " ' Cabbages ! ' " continued Laurie promptly. " ' Just the thing,' said the girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden. She put them on, the knights revived at once, thanked her, and went on their way rejoicing, never knowing the difference, for there were so many other heads like them in the world that no one thought anything of it. The knight in whom I 'm interested went back to find the pretty face, and learned that the princesses had spun themselves free, and all gone to be married, but one. He was in a great state of mind at that ; and mounting the colt, who stood by him through thick 164 Little Women and thin, rushed to the castle to see which was left. Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his affec- tions 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 is n'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." " 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 dis- appeared behind Jo, and Grace was asleep. " So the poor knight is to be left sticking in the hedge, is he?" asked Mr. Brooke, still watching the river, and playing with the wild rose in his button- hole. " I guess the princess gave him a posy, and opened the gate, after a while," said Laurie, smiling to himself, as he threw acorns at his tutor. " What a piece of nonsense we have made ! With practice we might do something quite clever. Do you know 'Truth'?" asked Sallie, after they had laughed over their story. " I hope so," said Meg soberly. " The game, I mean? " "What is it?" said Fred. " Why, you pile up your hands, choose a number, and draw out in turn, and the person who draws at the num- Camp Laurence 165 ber has to answer truly any questions put by the rest. It 's great fun." "Let's try it," said Jo, who Hked new experiments. Miss Kate and Mr. Brooke, Meg, and Ned decHned, but Fred, Sallie, Jo, and Laurie piled and drew; and the lot fell to Laurie. "Who are your heroes? " asked Jo. " Grandfather and Napoleon." "Which lady here do you think prettiest?" said Sallie. " Margaret." " Which do you like best? " from Fred. "Jo, of course." " What silly questions you ask ! " and Jo gave a dis- dainful shrug as the rest laughed at Laurie's matter-of- fact tone. " Try again ; Truth is n't a bad game," said Fred. " It 's a very good one for you," retorted Jo, in a low voice. Her turn came next. " What is your greatest fault? " asked Fred, by way of testing in her the virtue he lacked himself. " A quick temper." "What do you most wish for?" said Laurie. " A pair of boot-lacings," returned Jo, guessing and defeating his purpose. " Not a true answer ; you must say what you really do want most." "Genius; don't you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?" and she slyly smiled in his disappointed face. " What virtues do you most admire in a man? " asked Sallie. " Courage and honesty." *' Now my turn," said Fred, as his hand came last. 1 66 Little Women " Let 's give it to him," whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded, and asked at once, — " Did n't you cheat at croquet? " " Well, yes, a little bit." " Good ! Did n't you take your story out of ' The Sea- Lion'?" said Laurie. " Rather." " Don't you think the English nation perfect in every respect?" asked Sallie. " I should be ashamed of myself if I did n't." " He 's a true John Bull. Now, Miss Sallie, you shall have a chance without waiting to draw. I '11 harrow up your feelings first, by asking if you don't think you are something of a flirt," said Laurie, as Jo nodded to Fred, as a sign that peace was declared. " You impertinent boy ! of course I 'm not," exclaimed Sallie, with an air that proved the contrary. "What do you hate most?" asked Fred. " Spiders and rice-pudding." "What do you like best?" asked Jo. " Dancing and French gloves." " Well, / think Truth is a very silly play ; let 's have a sensible game of Authors, to refresh our minds," pro- posed Jo. Ned, Frank, and the little girls joined in this, and, while it went on, the three elders sat apart, talking. Miss Kate took out her sketch again, and Margaret watched her, while Mr. Brooke lay on the grass, with a book, which he did not read. " How beautifully you do it ! I wish I could draw," said Meg, with mingled admiration and regret in her voice. " Why don't you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for it," replied Miss Kate graciously. Camp Laurence 167 " I have n't time." " Your mamma prefers other accomph'shments, I fancy. So did mine ; but I proved to her that I had talent, by taking a few lessons privately, and then she was quite willing I should go on. Can't you do the same with your governess? " " I have none." " I forgot; young ladies in America go to school more than with us. Very fine schools they are, too, papa says. You go to a private one, I suppose?" " I don't go at all ; I am a governess myself." " Oh, indeed ! " said Miss Kate ; but she might as well have said, " Dear me, how dreadful ! " for her tone implied it, and something in her face made Meg color, and wish she had not been so frank. Mr. Brooke looked up, and said quickly, "Young ladies in America love independence as much as their ancestors did, and are admired and respected for sup- porting themselves." " Oh, yes ; of course it 's very nice and proper in them to do so. We have many most respectable and worthy young women, who do the same and are employed by the nobility, because, being the daughters of gentle- men, they are both well-bred and accomplished, you know," said Miss Kate, in a patronizing tone, that hurt Meg's pride, and made her work seem not only more distasteful, but degrading. " Did the German song suit. Miss March? " inquired Mr. Brooke, breaking an awkward pause. " Oh, yes ! it was very sweet, and I 'm much obliged to whoever translated it for me ; " and Meg's downcast face brightened as she spoke. " Don't you read German ? " asked Miss Kate, with a look of surprise. 1 68 Little Women " Not very well. My father, who taught me, is away, and I don't get on very fast alone, for 1 'vc no one to correct my pronunciation." "Try a little now; here is Schiller's ' Mary Stuart,' and a tutor who loves to teach," and Mr. Brooke laid his book on her lap, with an inviting smile. " It 's so hard I 'm afraid to try," said Meg, grateful, but bashful in the presence of the accomplished young lady beside her. " I '11 read a bit to encourage you ; " and Miss Kate read one of the most beautiful passages, in a perfectly correct but perfectly expressionless manner. Mr. Brooke made no comment, as she returned the book to Meg, who said innocently, — " I thought it was poetry." " Some of it is. Try this passage." There was a queer smile about Mr. Brooke's mouth as he opened at poor Mary's lament. Meg obediently following the long grass-blade which her new tutor used to point with, read slowly and timidly, unconsciously making poetry of the hard words by the soft intonation of her musical voice. Down the page went the green guide, and presently, forgetting her listener in the beauty of the sad scene, Meg read as if alone, giving a little touch of tragedy to the words of the unhappy queen. If she had seen the brown eyes then, she would have stopped short; but she never looked up, and the lesson was not spoiled for her. " Very well indeed ! " said Mr. Brooke, as she paused, quite ignoring her many mistakes, and looking as if he did, indeed, " love to teach." Miss Kate put up her glass, and, having taken a survey of the little tableau before her, shut her sketch-book, saying, with condescension, — Camp Laurence 169 "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 did n't come to chaperone a governess, though she is young and pretty. What odd people these Yankees are ; I 'm afraid Laurie will be quite spoilt among them." " I forgot that English people rather turn up their noses at governesses, and don't treat them as we do," said Meg, looking after the retreating figure with an annoyed expression. " Tutors, also, have rather a hard time of it there, as I know to my sorrow. There 's no place like America for us workers, Miss Margaret; " and Mr. Brooke looked so contented and cheerful, that Meg was ashamed to lament her hard lot. " I 'm glad I live in it then. I don't like my work, but I get a good deal of satisfaction out of it after all, so I won't complain ; I only wish I liked teaching as you do." " I think you would if you had Laurie for a pupil. I shall be very sorry to lose him next year," said Mr. Brooke, busily punching holes in the turf. "Going to college, I suppose?" Meg's lips asked that question, but her eyes added, " And what becomes of you?" " Yes ; it's high time he went, for he is ready ; and as soon as he is off, I shall turn soldier. I am needed." " I am glad of that ! " exclaimed Meg. " I should think every young man would want to go ; though it is hard for the mothers and sisters who stay at home," she added sorrowfully. " I have neither, and very few friends, to care whether lyo Little Women I live or die," said Mr. Brooke, rather bitterly, as he absently put the dead rose in the hole he had made and covered it up, like a little grave. " Laurie and his grandfather would care a great deal and we should all be very sorry to have any harm happen to you," said Meg heartily. "Thank you; that sounds pleasant," began Mr. Brooke, looking cheerful again; but before he could finish his speech, Ned, mounted on the old horse, came lumbering up to display his equestrian skill before the young ladies, and there was no more quiet that day. " Don't you love to ride?" asked Grace of Amy, as they stood resting, after a race round the field with the others, led by Ned. " I dote upon it ; my sister Meg used to ride when papa was rich, but we don't keep any horses now, except Ellen Tree," added Amy, laughing. " Tell me about Ellen Tree; is it a donkey?" asked Grace, curiously. " Why, you see, Jo is crazy about horses, and so am I, but we 've only got an old side-saddle, and no horse. Out in our garden is an apple-tree, that has a nice low branch ; so Jo put the saddle on it, fixed some reins on the part that turns up, and we bounce away on Ellen Tree whenever we like." " How funny ! " laughed Grace. " I have a pony at home, and ride nearly every day in the park, with Fred and Kate; it's very nice, for my friends go too, and the Row is full of ladies and gentlemen." " Dear, how charming ! I hope I shall go abroad some day ; but I 'd rather go to Rome than the Row," said Amy, who had not the remotest idea what the Row was, and would n't have asked for the world. Camp Laurence 171 Frank, sitting just behind the little girls, heard what they were saying, and pushed his crutch away from him with an impatient gesture as he watched the active lads going through all sorts of comical gymnastics. Beth, who was collecting the scattered Author-cards, looked up, and said, in her shy yet friendly way, — " I 'm afraid you are tired ; can I do anything for you ? " "Talk to me, please; it's dull, sitting by myself," answered Frank, who had evidently been used to being made much of at home. If he had asked her to deliver a Latin oration, it would not have seemed a more impossible task to bash- ful Beth ; but there was no place to run to, no Jo to hide behind now, and the poor boy looked so wistfully at her, that she bravely resolved to try. " What do you like to talk about? " she asked, fumbling over the cards, and dropping half as she tried to tie them up. " Well, I like to hear about cricket and boating and hunting," said Frank, who had not yet learned to suit his amusements to his strength. "My heart! what shall I do? I don't know anything about them," thought Beth; and, forgetting the boy's misfortune in her flurry, she said, hoping to make him talk, " I never saw any hunting, but I suppose you know all about it." " I did once ; but I can never hunt again, for I got hurt leaping a confounded five-barred gate ; so there are no more horses and hounds for me," said Frank, with a sigh that made Beth hate herself for her innocent blunder. " Your deer are much prettier than our ugly buffaloes," she said, turning to the prairies for help, and feeling glad that she had read one of the boys' books in which Jo delighted. 172 Little Women Buffaloes proved soothing and satisfactory; and, in her eagerness to amuse another, Beth forgot herself, and was quite unconscious of her sisters' surprise and delight at the unusual spectacle of Beth talking away to one of the dreadful boys, against whom she had begged protection. " Bless her heart ! She pities him, so she is good to him," said Jo, beaming at her from the croquet-ground. " I always said she was a little saint," added Meg, as if there could be no further doubt of it. " I have n't heard Frank laugh so much for ever so long," said Grace to Amy, as they sat discussing dolls, and making tea-sets out of the acorn-cups. " My sister Beth is a very fastidious girl, when she likes to be," said Amy, well pleased at Beth's success. She meant " fascinating," but as Grace did n't know the exact meaning of either word, " fastidious " sounded well, and made a good impression. An impromptu circus, fox and geese, and an amicable game of croquet, finished the afternoon. At sunset the tent was struck, hampers packed, wickets pulled up, boats loaded, and the whole party floated down the river, singing at the tops of their voices. Ned, get- ting sentimental, warbled a serenade with the pensive refrain, — " Alone, alone, ah ! woe, alone," and at the lines — " We each are young, we each have a heart, Oh, why should we stand thus coldly apart?" he looked at Meg with such a lackadaisical expression that she laughed outright and spoilt his song. " How can you be so cruel to mc?" he whispered, under cover of a lively chorus. " You 've kept close to Castles in the Air 173 that starched-up Englishwoman all day, and now you snub me." " I did n't mean to ; but you looked so funny I really could n't help it," replied Meg, passing over the first part of his reproach ; for it was quite true that she Jiad shunned him, remembering the Moffat party and the talk after it. Ned was offended, and turned to Sallie for consolation, saying to her rather pettishly, " There is n't a bit of flirt in that girl, is there? " " Not a particle ; but she 's a dear," returned Sallie, defending her friend even while confessing her short- comings. " She 's not a stricken deer, any way," said Ned, trying to be witty, and succeeding as well as very young gentlemen usually do. On the lawn, where it had gathered, the little party separated with cordial good-nights and good-byes, for the Vaughns were going to Canada. As the four sisters went home through the garden, Miss Kate looked after them, saying, without the patronizing tone in her voice, " In spite of their demonstrative manners, American girls are very nice when one knows them." " I quite agree with you," said Mr. Brooke. CHAPTER XIII CASTLES IN THE AIR LAURIE lay luxuriously swinging to and fro in his hammock, one warm September afternoon, wondering what his neighbors were about, but too lazy to go and find out. He was in one of his 174 Little Women moods; for the day had been both unprofitable and unsatisfactory, and he was wishing he could live it over again. The hot weather made him indolent, and he had shirked his studies, tried Mr. Brooke's patience to the utmost, displeased his grandfather by practising half the afternoon, frightened the maid-servants half out of their wits, by mischievously hinting that one of his dogs was going mad, and, after high words with the stable-man about some fancied neglect of his horse, he had flung himself into his hammock, to fume over the stupidity of the world in general, till the peace of the lovely day quieted him in spite of himself. Staring up into the green gloom of the horse-chestnut trees above him, he dreamed dreams of all sorts, and was just im- agining himself tossing on the ocean, in a voyage round the world, when the sound of voices brought him ashore in a flash. Peeping through the meshes of the hammock, he saw the Marches coming out, as if bound on some expedition. " What in the world are those girls about now ? " thought Laurie, opening his sleepy eyes to take a good look, for there was something rather peculiar in the appearance of his neighbors. Each wore a large, flap- ping hat, a brown linen pouch slung over one shoulder, and carried a long stafl". 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 be- gan to climb the hill that lay between the house and river. " Well, that 's cool ! " said Laurie to himself, " to have a picnic and never ask me. They can't be going in the boat, for they have n't got the key. Perhaps they for- got it; I '11 take it to them, and see what's going on." Though possessed of half a dozen hats, it took him Castles in the Air 175 some time to find one; then there was a hunt for the key, which was at last discovered in his pocket; so that the girls were quite out of sight when he leaped the fence and ran after them. Taking the shortest way to the boat-house, he waited for them to appear: but no one came, and he went up the hill to take an observa- tion. A grove of pines covered one part of it, and from the heart of this green spot came a clearer sound than the soft sigh of the pines or the drowsy chirp of the crickets. " Here 's a landscape ! " thought Laurie, peeping through the bushes, and looking wide-awake and good- natured already. It was rather a pretty little picture, for the sisters sat together in the shady nook, with sun and shadow flick- ering over them, the aromatic wind Hfting their hair and cooling their hot cheeks, and all the little wood- people going on with their affairs as if these were no strangers, but old friends. Meg sat upon her cushion, sewing daintily with her white hands, and looking as fresh and sweet as a rose, in her pink dress, among the green. Beth was sorting the cones that lay thick under the hemlock near by, for she made pretty things of them. Amy was sketching a group of ferns, and Jo was knitting as she read aloud. A shadow passed over the boy's face as he watched them, feeling that he ought to go away, because uninvited ; yet lingering, because home seemed very lonely, and this quiet party in the woods most attractive to his restless spirit. He stood so still that a squirrel, busy with its harvesting, ran down a pine close beside him, saw him suddenly and skipped back, scolding so shrilly that Beth looked up, espied the wistful face behind the birches, and beckoned with a reassuring smile. 176 Little Women " May I come in, please? or shall I be a bother?" he asked, advancing slowly. Meg lifted her eyebrows, but Jo scowled at her defi- antly, and said, at once, " Of course you may. We should have asked you before, only we thought you would n't care for such a girl's game as this." "I always liked your games; but if Meg doesn't want me, I '11 go away." *' I 've no objection, if you do something ; it 's against the rules to be idle here," replied Meg, gravely but graciously. "Much obliged; I'll do anything if you'll let me stop a bit, for it 's as dull as the Desert of Sahara down there. Shall I sew, read, cone, draw, or do all at once ? Bring on your bears; I 'm ready," and Laurie sat down, with a submissive expression delightful to behold. " Finish this story while I set my heel," said Jo, hand- ing him the book. " Yes 'm," was the meek answer, as he began, doing his best to prove his gratitude for the favor of an admis- sion into the " Busy Bee Society." The story was not a long one, and, when it was fin- ished, he ventured to ask a few questions as a reward of merit. " Please, ma'am, could' I enquire if this highly instruc- tive and charming institution is a new one ? " "Would you tell him ? " asked Meg of her sisters. " He '11 laugh," said Amy warningly. " Who cares ? " said Jo. " I guess he '11 like it," added Beth. " Of course I shall ! I give you my word I won't laugh. Tell away, Jo, and don't be afraid." " The idea of being afraid of you ! Well, you see Castles in the Air 177 we used to play ' Pilgrim's Progress,' and we have been going on with it in earnest, all winter and summer." " Yes, I know," said Laurie, nodding wisely. " Who told you?" demanded Jo. " Spirits." " No, I did ; I wanted to amuse him one night when you were all away, and he was rather dismal. He did like it, so don't scold, Jo," said Beth meekly. " You can't keep a secret. Never mind ; it saves trouble now." " Go on, please," said Laurie, as Jo became absorbed in her work, looking a trifle displeased. " Oh, did n'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 vaca- tion is nearly over, the stints are all done, and we are ever so glad that we did n't dawdle." " Yes, I should think so ; " and Laurie thought regret- fully of his own idle days. " Mother likes to have us out of doors as much as possible ; so we bring our work here, and have nice times. For the fun of it we bring our things in these bags, wear the old hats, use poles to climb the hill, and play pilgrims, as we used to do years ago. We call this hill the ' Delectable Mountain,' for we can look far away and see the country where we hope to live some time." Jo pointed, and Laurie sat up to examine ; for through an opening in the wood one could look across the wide, blue river, the meadows on the other side, far over the outskirts of the great city, to the green hills that rose to meet the sky. The sun was low, and the heavens glowed with the splendor of an autumn sunset. Gold and purple clouds lay on the hill-tops; and rising high 12 178 Little Women into the ruddy light were silvery white peaks, that shone like the airy spires of some Celestial City. " How beautiful that is ! " said Laurie softly, for he was quick to see and feel beauty of any kind. " It 's often so ; and we Hke to watch it, for it is never the same, but always splendid," replied Amy, wishing she could paint it. " Jo talks about the country where we hope to live some time, — the real country, she means, with pigs and chickens and haymaking. It would be nice, but I wish the beautiful country up there was real, and we could ever go to it," said Beth musingly. " There is a lovelier country even than that, where we shall go, by and by, when we are good enough," an- swered Meg, with her sweet voice. " It seems so long to wait, so hard to do ; I want to fly away at once, as those swallows fly, and go in at that splendid gate." "You'll get there, Beth, sooner or later; no fear of that," said Jo ; "I 'm the one that will have to fight and work, and climb and wait, and maybe never get in after all." " You *11 have me for company, if that 's any comfort. I shall have to do a deal of travelling before I come in sight of your Celestial City. If I arrive late, you '11 say a good word for me, won't you, Beth? " Something in the boy's face troubled his little friend ; but she said cheerfully, with her quiet eyes on the changing clouds, " If people really want to . go, and really try all their lives, I think they will get in ; for I don't believe there are any locks on that door, or any guards at the gate. I always imagine it is as it is in the picture, where the shining ones stretch out their hands to welcome poor Christian as he comes up from the river." Castles in the Air 179 "Would n't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true, and we could live in them?" said Jo, after a little pause. " I've made such quantities it would be hard to choose which I 'd have," said Laurie, lying flat, and throwing cones at the squirrel who had betrayed him. " You 'd have to take your favorite one. What is it? " asked Meg. " If I tell mine, will you tell yours?" " Yes, if the girls will too." "We will. Now, Laurie." " After I 'd seen as much of the world as I want to, I 'd like to settle in Germany, and have just as much music as I choose. I 'm to be a famous musician my- self, and all creation is to rush to hear me ; and I 'm never to be bothered about money or business, but just enjoy myself, and live for what I like. That 's my favorite castle. What 's yours, Meg? " Margaret seemed to find it a little hard to tell hers, and waved a brake before her face, as if to disperse imaginary gnats, while she said slowly, " I should like a lovely house, full of all sorts of luxurious things, — nice food, pretty clothes, handsome furniture, pleasant people, and heaps of money. I am to be mistress of it, and manage it as I like, with plenty of servants, so I never need work a bit. How I should enjoy it ! for I would n't be idle, but do good, and make every one love me dearly." " Would n't you have a master for your castle in the air?" asked Laurie slyly. " I said ' pleasant people,' you know ; " and Meg care- fully tied up her shoe as she spoke, so that no one saw her face. "' Why don't you say you d have a splendid, wise, good i8o Little Women husband, and some angelic little children? You kno-«' your castle would n't be perfect without," said blunt Jo, who had no tender fancies yet, and rather scorned ro- mance, except in books. " You 'd have nothing but horses, inkstands, and novels in yours," answered Meg petulantly. " Would n't I, though? I 'd have a stable full of Ara- bian steeds, rooms piled with books, and I 'd write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie's music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, — something heroic or wonderful, that won't be forgotten after I 'm dead. I don't know what, but I 'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous : that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream." " Mine is to stay at home safe with father and mother, and help take care of the family," said Beth contentedly. " Don't you wish for anything else? " asked Laurie. " Since I had my little piano, I am perfectly satisfied, I only wish we may all keep well and be together; noth- ing else." " I have ever so many wishes ; but the pot one is to be an artist, and go to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole world," was Amy's modest desire. "We're an ambitious set, aren't we? Every one of us, but Beth, wants to be rich and famous, and gorgeous in ev^ry respect. I do wonder if any of us will ever get our wishes," said Laurie, chewing grass, like a meditative calf "I've go* the key to my castle in the air; but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen," observed Jo mysteriously. Castles in the Air 181 " I 've got the key to mine, but I 'm not allowed to try it. Hang college ! " muttered Laurie, with an impatient sigh. " Here 's mine ! " and Amy waved her pencil. " I have n't got any," said Meg forlornly. " Yes, you have," said Laurie at once. "Where?" " In your face," " Nonsense ; that 's of no use." " Wait and see if it does n't bring you something worth having," replied the boy, laughing at the thought of a charming little secret which he fancied he knew. Meg colored behind the brake, but asked no questions, and looked across the river with the same expectant ex- pression which Mr. Brooke had worn when he told the story of the knight. " If we are all alive ten years hence, let's meet, and see how many of us have got our wishes, or how much nearer we are then than now," said Jo, always ready with a plan. " Bless me ! how old I shall be, — twenty-seven ! " ex- claimed Meg, who felt grown up already, having just reached seventeen. " You and I will be twenty-six, Teddy, Beth twenty- four, and Amy twenty-two. What a venerable party ! " said Jo. " I hope I shall have done something to be proud of by that time ; but I 'm such a lazy dog, I 'm afraid I shall ' dawdle,' Jo." " You need a motive, mother says ; and when you get it, she is sure you '11 work splendidly." " Is she ? By Jupiter I will, if I only get the chance ! " cried Laurie, sitting up with sudden energy. " I ought to be satisfied to please grandfather, and I do try, but I 82 Little Women it 's working against the grain, you see, and comes hard. He wants me to be an India merchant, as he was, and I 'd rather be shot. I hate tea and silk and spices, and every sort of rubbish his old ships bring, and I don't care how soon they go to the bottom when I own them. Going to college ought to satisfy him, for if I give him four years he ought to let me off from the business ; but he 's set, and I 've got to do just as he did, unless I break away and please myself, as my father did. If there was any one left to stay with the old gentleman, I 'd do it to-morrow." Laurie spoke excitedly, and looked ready to carry his threat into execution on the slightest provocation ; for he was growing up very fast, and, in spite of his indolent ways, had a young man's hatred of subjection, a young man's restless longing to try the world for himself " I advise you to sail away in one of your ships, and never come home again till you have tried your own way," said Jo, whose imagination was fired by the thought of such a daring exploit, and whose sympathy was excited by "what she called " Teddy's wrongs." " That 's not right, Jo ; you must n't talk in that way, and Laurie must n't take your bad advice. You should do just what your grandfather wishes, my dear boy," said Meg, in her most maternal tone. " Do your best at college, and, when he sees that you try to please him, I 'm sure he won't be hard or unjust to you. As you say, there is no one else to stay with and love him, and you 'd never forgive yourself if you left him without his permission. Don't be dismal or fret, but do your duty ; and you '11 get your reward, as good Mr. Brooke has, by being respected and loved." "What do you know about him?" asked Laurie, grateful for the good advice, but objecting to the lecture, Castles in the Air 183 and glad to turn the conversation from himself, after his unusual outbreak. " Only what your grandpa told us about him, — how he took good care of his own mother till she died, and would n't go abroad as tutor to some nice person, because he would n't leave her; and how he provides now for an old woman who nursed his mother; and never tells any one, but is just as generous and patient and good as he can be." " So he is, dear old fellow ! " said Laurie heartily, as Meg paused, looking flushed and earnest with her story. " It 's like grandpa to find out all about him, without letting him know, and to tell all his goodness to others, so that they might like him. Brooke could n'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 '11 do for Brooke." " Begin to do something now, by not plaguing his Hfe out," said Meg sharply. " How do you know I do, miss? " " I can always tell by his face, when he goes away. If you have been good, he looks satisfied and walks briskly ; if you have plagued him, he 's sober and walks slowly, as if he wanted to go back and do his work better." " Well, I like that ! So you keep an account of my good and bad marks in Brooke's face, do you? I see him bow and smile as he passes your window, but I did n't know you 'd got up a telegraph." " We have n'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, 184 Little Women you know," cried Meg, much alarmed at the thought of what might follow from her careless speech. "/don't tell tales," replied Laurie, with his " high and mighty" air, as Jo called a certain expression which he occasionally wore. " Only if Brooke is going to be a thermometer, I must mind and have fair weather for him to report." " Please don't be offended. I did n't mean to preach or tell tales or be silly ; I only thought Jo was encourag- ing you in a feeling which you 'd be sorry for, by and by. You are so kind to us, we feel as if you were our brother, and say just what we think. Forgive me, I meant it kindly." And Meg offered her hand with a gesture both affectionate and timid. Ashamed of his momentary pique, Laurie squeezed the kind little hand, and said frankly, " I 'm the one to be forgiven ; I 'm cross, and have been out of sorts all day. I like to have you tell me my faults and be sisterly, so don't mind if I am grumpy sometimes ; I thank you all the same." Bent on showing that he was not offended, he made himself as agreeable as possible, — wound cotton for Meg, recited poetry to please Jo, shook down cones for Beth, and helped Amy with her ferns, proving himself a fit person to belong to the " Busy Bee Society." In the midst of an animated discussion on the domestic habits of turtles (one of those amiable creatures having strolled up from the river), the faint sound of a bell warned them that Hannah had put the tea " to draw," and they would just have time to get home to supper. " May I come again? " asked Laurie. " Yes, if you are good, and love your book, as the boys in the primer are told to do," said Meg, smiling. " I '11 try." Secrets 185 " Then you may come, and I '11 teach you to knit as the Scotchmen do ; there 's a demand for socks just now," added Jo, waving hers, like a big blue worsted banner, as they parted at the gate. That night, when Beth played to Mr. Laurence in the twilight, Laurie, standing in the shadow of the curtain, listened to the little David, whose simple music always quieted his moody spirit, and watched the old man, who sat with his gray head on his hand, thinking tender thoughts of the dead child he had loved so much. Re- membering the conversation of the afternoon, the boy said to himself, with the resolve to make the sacrifice cheerfully, " I '11 let my castle go, and stay with the dear old gentleman while he needs me, for I am all he has." CHAPTER XIV SECRETS JO was very busy in the garret, for the October days began to grow chilly, and the afternoons were short. For two or three hours the sun lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa, writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before her, while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams overhead, accompanied by his oldest son, a fine young fellow, who was evidently very proud of his whiskers. Quite absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away till the last page was filled, when she signed her name with a flourish, and threw down her pen, exclaiming, — " There, I 've done my best ! If this won't suit I shall have to wait till I can do better." Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript care- I 86 Little Women fully through, making dashes here and there, and putting in many exclamation points, which looked like little bal- loons ; 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 like- wise of a literary turn, was fond of making a circulating library of such books as were left in his way, by eating the leaves. From this tin receptacle Jo produced another manuscript; and, putting both in her pocket, crept quietly down stairs, leaving her friends to nibble her pens and taste her ink. She put on her hat and jacket as noiselessly as possible, and, going to the back entry window, got out upon the roof of a low porch, swung herself down to the grassy bank, and took a roundabout way to the road. Once there, she composed herself, hailed a passing omnibus, and rolled away to town, looking very merry and mysterious. If any one had been watching her, he would have thought her movements decidedly peculiar ; for, on alighting, she went off at a great pace till she reached a certain number in a certain busy street; having found the place with some difficulty, she went into the door- way, looked up the dirty stairs, and, after standing stock still a minute, suddenly dived into the street, and walked away as rapidly as she came. This manoeuvre she repeated several times, to the great amusement of a black- eyed young gentleman lounging in the window of a build- ing 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. Secrets 187 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 at- tention 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 '11 need some one to help her home." In ten minutes Jo came running down stairs with a very red face, and the general appearance of a person who had just passed through a trying ordeal of some sort. When she saw the young gentleman she looked anything but pleased, and passed him with a nod ; but he followed, asking, with an air of sympathy, — " Did you have a bad time? " " Not very." " You got through quickly." " Yes, thank goodness ! " " Why did you go alone? " " Did n't want any one to know." " You 're the oddest fellow I ever saw. How many did you have out ? " Jo looked at her friend as if she did not understand him ; then began to laugh, as if mightily amused at something. " There are two which I want to have come out, but I must wait a week." " What are you laughing at? You are up to some mischief, Jo," said Laurie, looking mystified. " So are you. What were you doing, sir, up in that billiard saloon? " " ^^gg'"S your pardon, ma'am, it was n't a billiard saloon, but a gymnasium, and I was taking a lesson in fencing." I 88 Little Women " I 'm glad of that." "Why?" " You can teach me, and then when we play Hamlet, you can be Laertes, and we '11 make a fine thing of the fencing scene." Laurie burst out with a hearty boy's laugh, which made several passers-by smile in spite of themselves. " I '11 teach you whether we play Hamlet or not; it 's grand fun, and will straighten you up capitally. But I don't believe that was your only reason for saying ' I 'm glad,' in that decided way; was it, now?" " No, I was glad that you were not in the saloon, be- cause I hope you never go to such places. Do you?" " Not often." " I wish you would n't." " It's no harm, Jo. I have billiards at home, but it's no fun unless you have good players ; so, as I 'm fond of it, I come sometimes and have a game with Ned Moffat or some of the other fellows." " Oh dear, I 'm so sorry, for you '11 get to liking it better and better, and will waste time and money, and grow like those dreadful boys. I did hope you 'd stay respectable, and be a satisfaction to your friends," said Jo, shaking her head. " Can't a fellow take a little innocent amusement now and then without losing his respectability?" asked Laurie, looking nettled. " That depends upon how and where he takes it. I don't like Ned and his set, and wish you 'd keep out of it. Mother won't let us have him at our house, though he wants to come ; and if you grow like him she won't be willing to have us frolic together as we do now." " Won't she? " asked Laurie anxiously. " No, she can't bear fashionable young men, and Secrets 189 she 'd shut us all up in bandboxes rather than have us associate with them." "Well, she needn't get out her bandboxes yet; I'm not a fashionable party, and don't mean to be ; but I do like harmless larks now and then, don't you?" " Yes, nobody minds them, so lark away, but don't get wild, will you? or there will be an end of all our good times." " I '11 be a double-distilled saint," " I can't bear saints : just be a simple, honest, respect- able boy, and we '11 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 did n't know how to spend it, and got tipsy and gambled, and ran away, and forged his father's name, I believe, and was altogether horrid." "You think I'm likely to do the same? Much obliged." "No, I don't — oh, dear, no! — but I hear people talking about money being such a temptation, and I sometimes wish you were poor ; I should n't worry then." " Do you worry about me, Jo ? " " A little, when you look moody or discontented, as you sometimes do ; for you 've got such a strong will, if you once get started wrong, I 'm afraid it would be hard to stop you." Laurie walked in silence a few minutes, and Jo watched him, wishing she had held her tongue, for his eyes looked angry, though his lips still smiled as if at her warnings. " Are you going to deliver lectures all the way home ? " he asked presently. " Of course not ; why?" " Because if you are, I 'II take a 'bus ; if you are not, 190 Little Women I 'd like to walk with you, and tell you something very interesting." " I won't preach any more, and I 'd like to hear the news immensely." " Very well, then ; come on. It *s a secret, and if I tell you, you must tell me yours." " I have n't got any," began Jo, but stopped suddenly, remembering that she had. " You know you have, — you can't hide anything; so up and 'fess, or I won't tell," cried Laurie. " Is your secret a nice one?" " Oh, is n't it ! all about people you know, and such fun ! You ought to hear it, and I 've been aching to tell it this long time. Come, you begin." " You '11 not say anything about it at home, will you? " " Not a word." " And you won't tease me in private?" " I never tease." " Yes, you do ; you get everything you want out of people. I don't know how you do it, but you are a born wheedler." " Thank you ; fire away." " Well, I 've left two stories with a newspaper man, and he 's to give his answer next week," whispered Jo, in her confidant's ear. " Hurrah for Miss March, the celebrated American authoress ! " cried Laurie, throwing up his hat and catching it again, to the great delight of two ducks, four cats, five hens, and half a dozen Irish children; for they were out of the city now. " Hush ! It won't come to anything, I dare say; but I could n't rest till I had tried, and I said nothing about it, because I did n't want any one else to be disappointed." Secrets 191 " It won't fail. Why, Jo, your stories are works of Shakespeare, compared to half the rubbish that is pub- lished every day. Won't it be fun to see them in print; and sha' n't we feel proud of our authoress? " Jo's eyes sparkled, for it is always pleasant to be believed in ; and a friend's praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs. "Where's your secret? Play fair, Teddy, or I'll never believe you again," she said, trying to extinguish the brilliant hopes that blazed up at a word of encouragement. "I may get into a scrape for telling; but I didn't promise not to, so I will, for I never feel easy in my mind till I 've told you any plummy bit of news I get. I know where Meg's glove is." "Is that all?" said Jo, looking disappointed, as Laurie nodded and twinkled, with a face full of mys- terious intelligence. " It 's quite enough for the present, as you '11 agree when I tell you where it is." " Tell, then." Laurie bent, and whispered three words in Jo's ear, which produced a comical change. She stood and stared at him for a minute, looking both surprised and displeased, then walked on, saying sharply, " How do you know?" " Saw it." "Where?" " Pocket." "All this time?" " Yes ; is n't that romantic? " " No, it 's horrid." "Don't you like it?" " Of course I don't. It's ridiculous; it won't b« allowed. My patience ! what would Meg say? " 192 Little Women " You are not to tell any one ; mind that." " I did n't promise." " That was understood, and I trusted you." "Well, I won't for the present, any way; but I'm disgusted, and wish you had n't told me." " I thought you 'd be pleased." " At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away? No, thank you." " You '11 feel better about it when somebody comes to take you away." " I 'd like to see any one try it," cried Jo fiercely. " So should I ! " and Laurie chuckled at the idea. " I don't think secrets agree with me ; I feel rumpled up in my mind since you told me that," said Jo, rather ungratefully. " Race down this hill with me, and you '11 be all right," suggested Laurie. No one was in sight ; the smooth road sloped invit- ingly before her; and finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb behind her, and scattering hair-pins as she ran. Laurie reached the goal first, and was quite satisfied with the success of his treatment; for his Atalanta came panting up, with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face. " I wish I was a horse ; then I could run for miles in this splendid air, and not lose my breath. It was capi- tal ; but see what a guy it's made me. Go, pick up my things, like a cherub as you are," said Jo, dropping down under a maple-tree, which was carpeting the bank with crimson leaves. Laurie leisurely departed to recover the lost property, and Jo bundled up her braids, hoping no one would pass by till she was tidy again. But some one did pass, Secrets 193 and who should it be but Meg, looking particularly ladylike in her state and festival suit, for she had been making calls. '* What in the world are you doing here? " she asked, regarding her dishevelled sister with well-bred surprise. " Getting leaves," meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she had just swept up. " And hair-pins," added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo's lap. " They grow on this road, Meg; so do combs and brown straw hats." " You have been running, Jo; how could you? When will yon stop such romping ways?" said Meg reprov- ingly, as she settled her cuffs, and smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties. " Never till I 'm stiff and old, and have to use a crutch. Don't try to make me grow up before my time, Meg : it 's hard enough to have you change all of a sudden ; let me be a little girl as long as I can." As she spoke, Jo bent over the leaves to hide the trembling of her lips ; for lately she had felt that Mar- garet was fast getting to be a woman, and Laurie's secret made her dread the separation which must surely come some time, and now seemed very near. He saw the trouble in her face, and drew Meg's attention from it by asking quickly, " Where have you been calling, all so fine ? " " At the Gardiners', and Sallie has been telling me all about Belle Moffat's wedding. It was very splendid, and they have gone to spend the winter in Paris. Just think how delightful that must be ! " " Do you envy her, Meg? " said Laurie. " I 'm afraid I do." " I 'm glad of it ! " muttered Jo, tying on, her hat with a jerk. »3 194 Little Women " Why? " asked Meg, looking surprised. " Because if you care much about riches, you will never go and marry a poor man," said Jo, frowning at Laurie, who was mutely warning her to mind what she said. "I shall never '^^ and marry' any one," observed Meg, walking on with great dignity, while the others followed, laughing, whispering, skipping stones, and " behaving like children," as Meg said to herself, though she might have been tempted to join them if she had not had her best dress on. For a week or two, Jo behaved so queerly that her sisters where quite bewildered. She rushed to the door when the postman rang; was rude to Mr. Brooke when- ever they met; would sit looking at Meg with a woe- begone face, occasionally jumping up to shake, and then to kiss her, in a very mysterious manner; Laurie and she were always making signs to one another, and talk- ing about " Spread Eagles," till the girls declared they had both lost their wits. On the second Saturday after Jo got out of the window, Meg, as she sat sewing at her window, was scandalized by the sight of Laurie chasing Jo all over the garden, and finally capturing her in Amy's bower. What went on there, Meg could not see ; but shrieks of laughter were heard, followed by the murmur of voices and a great flapping of newspapers. " What shall we do with that girl? She never will behave like a young lady," sighed Meg, as she watched the race with a disapproving face. " I hope she won't ; she is so funny and dear as she is," said Beth, who had never betrayed that she was a little hurt at Jo's having secrets with any one but her. " It's very trying, but we never can make her commy la fo," added Amy, who sat making some new frills for Secrets 195 herself, with her curls tied up in a very becoming way, — two agreeable things, which made her feel unusually elegant and ladylike. In a few minutes Jo bounced in, laid herself on the sofa, and affected to read. " Have you anything interesting there? " asked Meg, with condescension. " Nothing but a story ; won't amount to much, I guess," returned Jo, carefully keeping the name of the paper out of sight. " You 'd better read it aloud ; that will amuse us and keep you out of mischief," said Amy, in her most grown-up tone. " What's the name? " asked Beth, wondering why Jo kept her face behind the sheet. " The Rival Painters." " That sounds well ; read it," said Meg. With a loud " Hem ! " and a long breath, Jo began to read very fast. The girls listened with interest, for the tale was romantic, and somewhat pathetic, as most of the characters died in the end. " I like that about the splendid picture," was Amy's approving remark, as Jo paused. " I prefer the lovering part. Viola and Angelo are two of our favorite names; isn't that queer?" said Meg, wiping her eyes, for the " lovering part " was tragical. " Who wrote it? " asked Beth, who had caught a glimpse of Jo's face. The reader suddenly sat up, cast away the paper, displaying a flushed countenance, and, with a funny mixture of solemnity and excitement, replied in a loud voice, " Your sister." "You? " cried Meg, dropping her work. 196 Little Women " It 's very good," said Amy critically. " I knew it ! I knew it ! O my Jo, I am so proud ! " and Beth ran to hug her sister, and exult over this splendid success. Dear me, how delighted they all were, to be sure ! how Meg would n't believe it till she saw the words, " Miss Josephine March," actually printed in the paper; how graciously Amy criticised the artistic parts of the story, and offered hints for a sequel, which unfortu- nately could n't be carried out, as the hero and heroine were dead; how Beth got excited, and skipped and sung with joy; how Hannah came in to exclaim " Sakes alive, well I never ! " in great astonishment at " that Jo's doin's ; " how proud Mrs. March was when she knew it ; how Jo laughed, with tears in her eyes, as she declared she might as well be a peacock and done with it; and how the "Spread Eagle" might be said to flap his wings triumphantly over the House of March, as the paper passed from hand to hand. " Tell us all about it." " When did it come ? " " How much did you get for it?" "What will father say?" "Won't Laurie laugh?" cried the family, all in one breath, as they clustered about Jo ; for these foolish, affectionate people made a jubilee of every little house- hold joy. " Stop jabbering, girls, and I '11 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 did n't pay beginners, only let them print in his paper, and noticed the stories. It was good practice, he said; and when the beginners im- proved, any one would pay. So I let him have the two I A Telegram 197 stories, and to-day this was sent to me, and Laurie caught me with it, and insisted on seeing it, so I let him ; and he said it was good, and I shall write more, and he 's going to get the next paid for, and I avi so happy, for in time I may be able to support myself and help the girls." Jo's breath gave out here ; and, wrapping her head in the paper, she bedewed her little story with a few natu- ral 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. CHAPTER XV A TELEGRAM " 'T^ T OVEMBER is the most disagreeable month ^^1 in the whole year," said Margaret, standing JL ^ at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frost-bitten garden. " That 's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose. " If something very pleasant should happen now, we should think it a delightful month," said Beth, who took a hopeful view of everything, even November. " I dare say ; but nothing pleasant ever does happen in this family," said Meg, who was out of sorts. " We go grubbing along day after day, without a bit of change, and very little fun. We might as well be in a treadmill." " My patience, how blue we are ! " cried Jo. " I don't much wonder, poor dear, for you see other girls having splendid times, while you grind, grind, year in and year J98 Little Women out. Oh, don't I wish I could manage things for you as I do for my heroines ! You 're pretty enough and good enough already, so I 'd have some rich relation leave you a fortune unexpectedly ; then you "d dash out as an heiress, scorn every one who has slighted you, gc abroad, and come home my Lady Something, in a blaze of splendor and elegance." " People don't have fortunes left them in that style now-a-days ; men have to work, and women to marry for money. It's a dreadfully unjust world," said Meg bitterly. " Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all ; just wait ten years, and see if we don't," said Amy, who sat in a corner, making mud pies, as Hannah called her little clay models of birds, fruit, and faces. " Can't wait, and I 'm afraid I have n't much faith in ink and dirt, though I 'm grateful for your good intentions." Meg sighed, and turned to the frost-bitten garden again; Jo groaned, and leaned both elbows on the table in a despondent attitude, but Amy spatted away energetically ; and Beth, who sat at the other window, said, smiling, " Two pleasant things are going to happen right away : Marmee is coming down the street, and Laurie is tramping through the garden as if he had something nice to tell." In they both came, Mrs. March with her usual ques- tion, " 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 is n't bad, and I 'm going to take Brooke home, so it will be gay inside, if it is n't out. Come, Jo, you and Beth will go, won't you ? " A Telegram 199 "Of course we will." •'Much obliged, but I'm busy;" and Meg whisked out her work-basket, for she had agreed with her mother that it was best, for her at least, not to drive often with the young gentleman. " We three will be ready in a minute," cried Amy, running away to wash her hands. " Can I do anything for you. Madam Mother ? " asked Laurie, leaning over Mrs. March's chair, with the affectionate look and tone he always gave her. " No, thank you, except call at the office, if you '11 be so kind, dear. It 's our day for a letter, and the post- man has n't been. Father is as regular as the sun, but there 's some delay on the way, perhaps." A sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after Han- nah came in with a letter. " It 's one of them horrid telegraph things, mum," she said, handing it as if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage. At the word " telegraph," Mrs. March snatched it, read the two lines it contained, and dropped back into her chair as white as if the little paper had sent a bullet to her heart. Laurie dashed down stairs for water, while Meg and Hannah supported her, and Jo read aloud, in a frightened voice, — " Mrs. March : " Your husband is very ill. Come at once. "S. Hale, " Blank Hospital, Washington." How still the room was as they listened breathlessly, how strangely the day darkened outside, and how sud- denly the whole world seemed to change, as the girls 2 00 Little Women gathered about their mother, feeling as if all the happi- ness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them. Mrs. March was herself again directly, read the message over, and stretched out her arms to her daughters, saying, in a tone they never forgot, " I shall go at once, but it may be too late. O children, children, help me to bear it! " For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of sobbing in the room, mingled with broken words of comfort, tender assurances of help, and hopeful whis- pers that died away in tears. Poor Hannah was the first to recover, and v/ith unconscious wisdom she set all the rest a good example; for, with her, work was the panacea for most afflictions. " The Lord keep the dear man ! I won't waste no time a cryin', but git your things ready right away, mum," she said heartily, as she wiped her face on her apron, gave her mistress a warm shake of the hand with her own hard one, and went away, to work like three women in one. " She 's right ; there 's no time for tears now. Be calm, girls, and let me think." They tried to be calm, poor things, as their mother sat up, looking pale, but steady, and put away her grief to think and plan for them. "Where's Laurie?" she asked presently, when she had collected her thoughts, and decided on the first duties to be done. " Here, ma'am. Oh, let me do something ! " cried the boy, hurrying from the next room, whither he had withdrawn, feeling that their first sorrow was too sacred for even his friendly eyes to see. " Send a telegram saying I will come at once. The next train goes early in the morning. I '11 take that." A Telegram 201 "What else? The horses are ready; I can go any- where, do anything," he said, looking ready to fly to the ends of the earth. " Leave a note at Aunt March's. Jo, give me that pen and paper." Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly copied pages, Jo drew the table before her mother, well know- ing that money for the long, sad journey must be bor- rowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father. "Now go, dear; but don't kill yourself driving at a desperate pace ; there is no need of that." Mrs. March's warning was evidently thrown away; for five minutes later Laurie tore by the window on his own fleet horse, riding as if for his life. " Jo, run to the rooms, and tell Mrs. King that I can't come. On the way get these things. I '11 put them down ; they '11 be needed, and I must go prepared for nursing. Hospital stores are not always good. Beth, go and ask Mr. Laurence for a couple of bottles of old wine: I'm not too proud to beg for father; he shall have the best of everything. Amy, tell Hannah to get down the black trunk ; and, Meg, come and help me find my things, for I 'm half bewildered." Writing, thinking, and directing, all at once, might well bewilder the poor lady, and Meg begged her to sit quietly in her room for a little while, and let them work. Every one scattered like leaves before a gust of wind ; and the quiet, happy household was broken up as sud denly as if the paper had been an evil spell. Mr. Laurence came hurrying back with Beth, bTing- ing 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 com- 2 02 Little Women forted her very much. There was nothing he did n't offer, from his own dressing-gown to himself as escort. But that last was impossible. Mrs. March would not hear of the old gentleman's undertaking the long journey; yet an expression of relief was visible when he spoke of it, for anxiety ill fits one for travelling. He saw the look, knit his heavy eyebrows, rubbed his hands, and marched abruptly away, saying he 'd be back directly. No one had time to think of him again till, as Meg ran through the entry, with a pair of rub- bers in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke. " I 'm very sorry to hear of this. Miss March," he said, in the kind, quiet tone which sounded very pleasantly to her perturbed spirit. " I came to offer myself as escort to your mother. Mr. Laurence has commissions for me in Washington, and it will give me real satisfac- tion to be of service to her there." Down dropped the rubbers, and the tea was very near following, as Meg put out her hand, with a face so full of gratitude, that Mr. Brooke would have felt repaid for a much greater sacrifice than the trifling one of time and comfort which he was about to make. " How kind you all are ! Mother will accept, I 'm sure ; and it will be such a relief to know that she has some one to take care of her. Thank you very, very much ! " Meg spoke earnestly, and forgot herself entirely till something in the brown eyes looking down at her made her remember the cooling tea, and lead the way into the parlor, saying she would call her mother. Everything was arranged by the time Laurie returned with a note from Aunt March, enclosing the desired sum, and a few lines repeating what she had often said A Telegram 203 before, — that she had always told them it was absurd for March to go into the army, always predicted that no good would come of it, and she hoped they would take her advice next time. Mrs. March put the note in the fire, the money in her purse, and went on with her preparations, with her lips folded tightly, in a way which Jo would have understood if she had been there. The short afternoon wore away ; all the other errands were done, and Meg and her mother busy at some necessary needlework, while Beth and Amy got tea, and Hannah finished her ironing with what she called a " slap and a bang," but still Joe did not come. They began to get anxious ; and Laurie went off to find her, for no one ever knew what freak Jo might take into her head. He missed her, however, and she came walking in with a very queer expression of countenance, for there was a mixture of fun and fear, satisfaction and r regret, in it, which puzzled the family as much as did the roll of bills she laid before her mother, saying, with a little choke in her voice, " That 's my contribution towards making father comfortable and bringing him home ! " " My dear, where did you get it? Twenty-five dol- lars ! Jo, I hope you have n't done anything rash? " " No, it 's mine honestly ; I did n't beg, borrow, or steal it. I earned it; and I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off" her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short. "Your hair! Your beautiful hair!" "O Jo, how could you? Your one beauty." "My dear girl, there was no need of this." " She does n't look like my Jo any more, but I love her dearly for it ! " As every one exclaimed, and Beth hugged the 204 Little Women cropped head tenderly, Jo assumed an indifferent air, which did not deceive any one a particle, and said, rumpling up the brown bush, and trying to look as if she liked it, " It does n't affect the fate of the nation, so don't wail, Beth. It will be good for my vanity ; I was getting too proud of my wig. It will do my brains good to have that mop taken off; my head feels deliciously light and cool, and the barber said I could soon have a curly crop, which will be boyish, becoming, and easy to keep in order, I 'm satisfied ; so please take the money, and let 's have supper." " Tell me all about it, Jo. / am not quite satisfied, but I can't blame you, for I know how willingly you sacrificed your vanity, as you call it, to your love. But, my dear, it was not necessary, and I 'm afraid you will regret it, one of these days," said Mrs. March. "No, I won't!" returned Jo stoutly, feeling much relieved that her prank was not entirely condemned. " What made you do it? " asked Amy, who would as soon have thought of cutting off her head as her pretty hair. "Well, I was wild to do something for father," replied Jo, as they gathered about the table, for healthy young people can eat even in the midst of trouble. " I hate to borrow as much as mother does, and I knew Aunt March would croak ; she always does, if you ask for a ninepence. Meg gave all her quarterly salary toward the rent, and I only got some clothes with mine, so I felt wicked, and was bound to have some money, if I sold the nose off my face to get it." " You need n'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 A Telegram 205 " I had n't the least idea of selling my hair at first, but as I went along I kept thinking what I could do, and feeling as if I 'd like to dive into some of the rich stores and help myself. In a barber's window I saw tails of hair with the prices marked ; and one black tail, not so thick as mine, was forty dollars. It came over me all of a sudden that I had one thing to make money out of, and without stopping to think, I walked in, asked if they bought hair, and what they would give for mine." " I don't see how you dared to do it," said Beth, in a tone of awe. " Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil his hair. He rather stared, at first, as if he was n't used to having girls bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair. He said he did n't care about mine, it was n'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 was n't done right away, that I should n't have it done at all, and you know when I start to do a thing, I hate to give it up ; so I begged him to take it, and told him why I was in such a hurry. It was silly, I dare say, but it changed his mind, for I got rather excited, and told the story in my topsy-turvy way, and his wife heard, and said so kindly, — "'Take it, Thomas, and oblige the young lady; I'd do as much for our Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling.' " "Who was Jimmy?" asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as they went along. " Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such things make strangers feel, don't they? She talked away all the time the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely." 2o6 Little Women " Did n't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came? asked Meg, with a shiver. " I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that; I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short, rough ends on my head. It almost seemed as if I 'd an arm or a leg ofif. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I '11 give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by; for a crop is so comfortable I don't think I shall ever have a mane again." Mrs. March folded the wavy chestnut lock, and laid it away with a short gray one in her desk. She only said " Thank you, deary," but something in her face made the girls change the subject, and talk as cheerfully as they could about Mr. Brooke's kindness, the prospect of a fine day to-morrow, and the happy times they would have when father came home to be nursed. No one wanted to go to bed, when, at ten o'clock, Mrs. March put by the last finished job, and said, " Come, girls." Beth went to the piano and played the father's favorite hymn ; all began bravely, but broke down one by one, till Beth was left alone, singing with all her heart, for to her music was always a sweet consoler. " Go to bed and don't talk, for we must be up early, and shall need all the sleep we can get. Good-night, my darlings," said Mrs. March, as the hymn ended, for no one cared to try another. They kissed her quietly, and went to bed as silently as if the dear invalid lay in the next room. Beth and Amy soon fell asleep in spite of the great trouble, but Meg lay awake, thinking the most serious thoughts she had ever known in her short life. Jo lay motionless, and her A Telegram 207 sister fancied that she was asleep, till a stifled sob made her exclaim, as she touched a wet cheek, — " Jo, dear, what is it? Are you crying about father?" " No, not now." "What then?" " My — my hair ! " burst out poor Jo, trying vainly to smother her emotion in the pillow. It did not sound at all comical to Meg, who kissed and caressed the afflicted heroine in the tenderest manner. " I 'm not sorry," protested Jo, with a choke. " I 'd do it again to-morrow, if I could. It 's only the vain, selfish part of me that goes and cries in this silly way. Don't tell any one, it 's all over now. I thought you were asleep, so I just made a little private moan for my one beauty. How came you to be awake?" " I can't sleep, I 'm so anxious," said Meg. " Think about something pleasant, and you '11 soon drop off." " I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever." " What did you think of ? " " Handsome faces, — eyes particularly," answered Meg, smiling to herself, in the dark. " What color do you like best? " "Brown — that is, sometimes; blue are lovely." Jo laughed, and Meg sharply ordered her not to talk, then amiably promised to make her hair curl, and fell asleep to dream of living in her castle in the air. The clocks were striking midnight, and the rooms were very still, as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a coverlid here, settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each uncon- scious 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 2o8 Little Women 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 com- forted, dear soul ! There is always light behind the clouds." CHAPTER XVI LETTERS IN the cold gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp, and read their chapter with an earnestness never felt before ; for now the shadow of a real trouble had come, the little books were full of help and comfort ; and, as they dressed, they agreed to say good-by cheerfully and hopefully, and send their mother on her anxious journey unsaddened by tears or complaints from them. Everything seemed very strange when they went down, — so dim and still outside, so full of light and bustle within. Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even Hannah's familiar face looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen with her night-cap on. The big trunk stood ready in the hall, mother's cloak and bonnet lay on the sofa, and mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so pale and worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it very hard to keep their resolution. Meg's eyes kept filling in spite of herself; Jo was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more than once ; and the little girls' wore a grave, troubled expression, as if sorrow was a new experience to them. Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near, and they sat waiting for the carriage, Mrs. March said to the girls, who were all busied about her, one folding her Letters 209 shawl, another smoothing out the strings of her bonnet, a third putting on her overshoes, and a fourth fastening up her traveUing bag, — " Children, I leave you to Hannah's care and Mr. Laurence's protection. Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbor will guard you as if you were his own. I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you should take this trouble rightly. Don't grieve and fret when I am gone, or think that you can comfort yourselves by being idle and trying to forget. Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace. Hope and keep busy ; and whatever happens, remember that you never can be fatherless." " Yes, mother." " Meg, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, con- sult Hannah, and, in any perplexity, go to Mr. Laurence. Be patient, Jo, don't get despondent or do rash things; write to me often, and be my brave girl, ready to help and cheer us all. Beth, comfort yourself with your music, and be faithful to the little home duties; and you. Amy, help all you can, be obedient, and keep happy safe at home." " We will, mother ! we will ! " The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen. That was the hard minute, but the girls stood it well: no one cried, no one ran away or uttered a lamentation, though their hearts were very heavy as they sent loving messages to father, remembering, as they spoke, that it might be too late to deliver them. They kissed their mother quietly, clung about her tenderly, and tried to wave their hands cheerfully when she drove away. Laurie and his grandfather came over to see her off, and Mr. Brooke looked so strong and sensible and kind H 2IO Little Women that the girls christened him " Mr. Greatheart " on the spot. " Good-by, my darlings ! God bless and keep us all ! " whispered Mrs. March, as she kissed one dear little face after the other, and hurried into the carriage. As she rolled away, the sun came out, and, looking back, she saw it shining on the group at the gate, like a good omen. They saw it also, and smiled and waved their hands ; and the last thing she beheld, as she turned the corner, was the four bright faces, and behind them, like a body-guard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful Hannah, and devoted Laurie, " How kind every one is to us ! " she said, turning to find fresh proof of it in the respectful sympathy of the young man's face. " I don't see how they can help it," returned Mr. Brooke, laughing so infectiously that Mrs. March could not help smiling; and so the long journey began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful words. " I feel as if there had been an earthquake," said Jo, as their neighbors went home to breakfast, leaving them to rest and refresh themselves. " It seems as if half the house was gone," added Meg forlornly. Beth opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile of nicely-mended hose which lay on mother's table, showing that even in her last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them. I*- was a Httle thing, but it went straight to their hearts • and, in spite of their brave resolutions, they all broke down, and cried bitterly. Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings, and, when the shower showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with a coffee-pot. Letters 211 "Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don't fret. Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let 's fall to work, and be a credit to the family." Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that morning. No one could resist her per- suasive nods, or the fragrant invitation issuing from the nose of the coffee-pot. They drew up to the table, ex- changed their handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes were all right again. " ' Hope and keep busy; ' that 's the motto for us, so let 's see who will remember it best. I shall go to Aunt March, as usual. Oh, won't she lecture though ! " said Jo, as she sipped with returning spirit. " I shall go to my Kings, though I 'd much rather stay at home and attend to things here," said Meg, wishing she had n't made her eyes so red. " No need of that; Beth and I can keep house per- fectly well," put in Amy, with an important air. " Hannah will tell us what to do ; and we '11 have everything nice when you come home," added Beth, getting out her mop and dish-tub without delay. *' I think anxiety is very interesting," observed Amy, eating sugar, pensively. The girls could n't help laughing, and felt better for it, though Meg shook her head at the young lady who could find consolation in a sugar-bowl. The sight of the 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 accus- tomed to see their mother's face. It was gone ; but Beth had remembered the little household ceremony, and there she was, nodding away at them like a rosy- faced mandarin. 2 12 Little Women " That 's so like my Beth ! " said Jo, waving her hat, with a grateful face. " Good-by, Meggy ; I hope the Kings won't train to-day. Don't fret about father, dear," she added, as they parted. "And I hope Aunt March won't croak. Your hair is becoming, and it looks very boyish and nice," returned Meg, trying not to smile at the curly head, which looked comically small on her tall sister's shoulders. "That's my only comfort; " and, touching her hat a la Laurie, away went Jo, feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day. News from their father comforted the girls very much ; for, though dangerously ill, the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had already done him good. Mr. Brooke sent a bulletin every day, and, as the head of the family, Meg insisted on reading the despatches, which grew more and more cheering as the week passed. At first, every one was eager to write, and plump envelopes were carefully poked into the letter-box by one or other of the sisters, who felt rather important with their Wash- ington correspondence. As one of these packets con- tained characteristic notes from the party, we will rob an imaginary mail, and read them : — " My Dearest Mother, — "It is impossible to tell you how happy your last letter made us, for the news was so good we could n't help laughing and crying over it. How very kind Mr. Brooke is, and how for- tunate that Mr. Laurence's business detains him near you so long, since he is so useful to you and father. The girls arc al) 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 did n't know that her ' moral fit ' would n'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 Letters 213 sober except when she is at her little piano. Amy minds me nicely, and I take great care of her. She does her own hair, and I am teaching her to make button-holes and mend her stockings. She tries very hard, and I know you will be pleased with her improvement when you come. Mr. Laurence watches over us like a motherly old hen, as Jo says ; and Laurie is very kind and neighborly. He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue sometimes, and feel like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint ; she does not scold at all, and always calls me Miss ' Margaret,' which is quite proper, you know, and treats me with respect. We are all well and busy ; but we long, day and night, to have you back. Give my dearest love to father, and believe me, ever your own "Meg." This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to the next, which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper, ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed letters : — "Mv Precious Marmee, — " Three cheers for dear father ! Brooke was a trump to telegraph right off, and let us know the minute he was better. I rushed up garret when the letter came, and tried to thank God for being so good to us ; but I could only cry, and say, ' I 'm glad ! I 'm glad ! ' Did n't that do as well as a regular prayer? for I felt a great many in my heart. We have such funny times ; and now I can enjoy them, for every one is so desperately good, it 's like living in a nest of turtle-doves. You 'd laugh to see Meg head the table and try to be mother- ish. 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 2 14 Little Women right, but did n't speak as I ought, and he marched home, say- ing he would n't come again till I begged pardon. I declared I would n'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 did n't come ; and just at night I remem- bered what you said when Amy fell into the river. I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on tny anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry. I met him at the gate, coming for the same thing. We both laughed, begged each other's pardon, and felt all good and comfortable again. " I made a * pome ' yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash ; and, as father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him. Give him the lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your "TOPSV-TURVY Jo." "A SONG FROM THE SUDS. " Queen of my tub, I merrily sing, While the white foam rises high; And sturdily wash and rinse and wring, And fasten the clothes to dry ; Then out in the free fresh air they swing, Under the sunny sky. •* I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls The stains of the week away, And let water and air by their magic make Ourselves as pure as they ; Then on the earth there would be indeed A glorious washing-day ! "Along the path of a useful life, Will heart 's-ease ever bloom ; The busy mind has no time to think Of sorrow or care or gloom ; And anxious thoughts may be swept away, As we bravely wield a broom. Letters 215 ** I am glad a task to me is given, To labor at day by day ; For it brings me health and strength and hope. And I cheerfully learn to say, — * Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel, But, Hand, you shall work alway ! ' " "Dear Mother, — "There is only room for me to send my love, and some pressed pansies from the root I have been keeping safe in the house for father to see. I read every morning, try to be good all day, and sing myself to sleep with father's tune. I can't sing ' Land of the Leal ' now ; it makes me cry. Every one is very kind, and we are as happy as we can be without you. Amy wants the rest of the page, so I must stop. I did n't forget to cover the holders, and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day. " Kiss dear father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your loving " Little Beth." " Ma CnfeRE Mamma, — "We are all well I do my lessons always and never cor- roberate 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? Did n't I make that interrigation point 2i6 Little Women nice? Meg says my punchtuation and spelling are disgrace- ful and I am mortyfied but dear me I have so many things to do, I can't stop. Adieu, I send heaps of love to Papa. " Your affectionate daughter, *'Amy Curtis March." " Dear Mis March, — *' I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is clever and fly round right smart. Miss Meg is going to make a proper good housekeeper ; she hes the liking for it, and gits the hang of things surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all for goin ahead, but she don't stop to cal'k'late fust, and you never know where she 's like to bring up. She done out a tub of clothes on Monday, but she starched em afore they was wrenched, and blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should a died a laughin. Beth is the best of little creeters, and a sight of help to me, bein so forehanded and dependable. She tries to learn everything, and really goes to market beyond her years ; likewise keeps accounts, with my help, quite wonderful. We have got on very economical so fur ; I don't let the girls hev coffee only once a week, accordin to your wish, and keep em on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does well about frettin^ wearin her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff, Mr. Laurie is as full of didoes as usual, and turns the house upside down fre- quent ; but he heartens up the girls, and so I let em hev full swing. The old gentleman sends heaps of things, and is rather wearin, but means wal, and it aint my place to say nothin. My bread is riz, so no more at this time. I send my duty to Mr. March, and hope he 's seen the last of his Pewmonia. " Yours Respectful, " Hannah Mullet." " Head Nurse of Ward No. 2, — " All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition, commissary department well conducted, the Home Guard under Colonel Teddy always on duty, Commander-in-chief Little Faithful 217 General Laurence reviews the army daily, Quarter- master Mul- let keeps order in camp, and Major Lion does picket duty at niglit. A salute of twenty-four guns was fired on receipt of good news from Washington, and a dress parade took place at head-quarters. Commander-in-chief sends best wishes, in which he is heartily joined by " Colonel Teddy." " Dear Madam, — " The little girls are all well ; Beth and my boy report daily ; Hannah is a model servant, and guards pretty Meg like a dragon. Glad the fine weather holds ; pray make Brooke useful, and draw on me for funds if expenses ex- ceed your estimate. Don't let your husband want anything. Thank God he is mending. " Your sincere friend and servant, "James Laurence." CHAPTER XVII LITTLE FAITHFUL FOR a week the amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied the neighborhood. It was really amazing, for every one seemed in a heavenly frame of mind, and self-denial was all the fashion. Relieved of their first anxiety about their father, the girls insensibly relaxed their praiseworthy efforts a little, and began to fall back into the old ways. They did not forget their motto, but hoping and keeping busy seemed to grow easier; and after such tremendous exertions, they felt that Endeavor deserved a holiday, and gave it a good many. Jo caught a bad cold through neglect to cover the shorn head enough, and was ordered to stay at home 2i8 Little Women till she was better, for Aunt March did n't like to hear people read with colds in their heads. Jo liked this, and after an energetic rummage from garret to cellar, subsided on the sofa to nurse her cold with arsenicum and books. Amy found that housework and art did not go well together, and returned to her mud pies. Meg went daily to her pupils, and sewed, or thought she did, at home, but much time was spent in writing long letters to her mother, or reading the Washington despatches over and over. Beth kept on, with only slight relapses into idleness or grieving. All the little duties were faithfully done each day, and many of her sisters' also, for they were forgetful, and the house seemed like a clock whose pendulum was gone a-visiting. When her heart got heavy with longings for mother or fears for father, she went away into a certain closet, hid her face in the folds of a certain dear old gown, and made her little moan and prayed her little prayer quietly by herself. Nobody knew what cheered her up after a sober fit, but every one felt how sweet and help- ful Beth was, and fell into a way of going to her for com- fort or advice in their small affairs. All were unconscious that this experience was a test of character ; and, when the first excitement was over, felt that they had done well, and deserved praise. So they did ; but their mistake was in ceasing to do well, and they learned this lesson through much anxiety and regret. " Meg, I wish you 'd go and see the Hummels ; you know mother told us not to forget them," said Beth, ten days after Mrs. March's departure. " I 'm too tired to go this afternoon," replied Meg, rocking comfortably as she sewed. " Can't you, Jo?" asked Beth. " Too stormy for me with my cold." Little Faithful 219 " I thought it was almost well." " It 's well enough for me to go out with Laurie, but not well enough to go to the Hummels'," said Jo, laugh- ing, but looking a little ashamed of her inconsistency. " Why don't you go yourself ? " asked Meg. " I have been every day, but the baby is sick, and I don't know what to do for it. Mrs. Hummel goes away to work, and Lottchen takes care of it ; but it gets sicker and sicker, and I think you or Hannah ought to go." Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go to-morrow. " Ask Hannah for some nice little mess, and take it round, Beth; the air will do you good," said Jo, adding apologetically, " I 'd go, but I want to finish my writing." " My head aches and I 'm tired, so I thought may be some of you would go," said Beth. " Amy will be in presently, and she will run down for us," suggested Meg. " Well, I '11 rest a little and wait for her." So Beth lay down on the sofa, the others returned to their work, and the Hummels were forgotten. An hour passed: Amy did not come; Meg went to her room to try on a new dress ; Jo was absorbed in her story, and Hannah was sound asleep before the kitchen fire, when Beth quietly put on her hood, filled her basket with odds and ends for the poor children, and went out into the chilly air, with a heavy head, and a grieved look in her patient eyes. It was late when she came back, and no one saw her creep upstairs and shut herself into her mother's room. Half an hour after Jo went to " mother's closet " for something, and there found Beth sitting on the med- icine chest, looking very grave, with red eyes, and a cam- phor-bottle in her hand. " Christopher Columbus ! What 's the matter ? " cried 2 20 Little Women Jo, as Beth put out her hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly, — "You 've had the scarlet fever, have n't you? " "Years ago, when Meg did. Why?" " Then I '11 tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby 's dead ! " "What baby?" " Mrs. Hummel's ; it died in my lap before she got home," cried Beth, with a sob. " My poor dear, how dreadful for you ! I ought to have gone," said Jo, taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother's big chair, with a remorseful face. " It was n't dreadful, Jo, only so sad ! I saw in a min- ute that it was sicker, but Lottchen said her mother had gone for a doctor, so I took baby and let Lotty rest. It seemed asleep, but all of a sudden it gave a little cry, and trembled, and then lay very still. I tried to warm its feet, and Lotty gave it some milk, but it did n't stir, and I knew it was dead." " Don't cry, dear! What did you do? " " I just sat and held it softly till Mrs. Hummel came with the doctor. He said it was -dead, and looked at Heinrich and Minna, who have got sore throats. ' Scar- let fever, ma'am. Ought to have called me before,' he said crossly. Mrs. Hummel told him she was poor, and had tried to cure baby herself, but now it was too late, and she could only ask him to help the others, and trust to charity for his pay. He smiled then, and was kinder ; but it was very sad, and I cried with them till he turned round, all of a sudden, and told me to go home and take belladonna right away, or I 'd have the fever." " No, you won't ! " cried Jo, hugging her close, with a frightened look. " O Beth, if you should be sick I never could forgive myself ! What shall we do ? " Little Faithful 22 1 " Don't be frightened, I guess I shan't have it badly. I looked in mother's book, and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat, and queer feelings like mine, so I did take some belladonna, and I feel better," said Beth, laying her cold hands on her hot forehead, and trying to look well. " If mother was only at home!" exclaimed Jo, seizing the book, and feeling that Washington was an immense way off. She read a page, looked at Beth, felt her head, peeped into her throat, and then said gravely, " You 've been over the baby every day for more than a week, and among the others who are going to have it; so I'm afraid you are going to have it, Beth. I '11 call Hannah, she knows all about sickness." " Don't let Amy come ; she never had it, and I should hate to give it to her. Can't you and Meg have it over again?" asked Beth, anxiously. " I guess not; don't care if I do ; serve me right, sel- fish pig, to let you go, and stay writing rubbish myself! " muttered Jo, as she went to consult Hannah. The good soul was wide awake in a minute, and took the lead at once, assuring Jo that there was no need to worry ; every one had scarlet fever, and, if rightly treated, nobody died, — all of which Jo believed, and felt much relieved as they went up to call Meg. " Now I '11 tell you what we '11 do," said Hannah, when she had examined and questioned Beth ; " we will have Dr. Bangs, just to take a look at you, dear, and see that we start right; then we'll send Amy off to Aunt March's, for a spell, to keep her out of harm's way, and one of you girls can stay at home and amuse Beth for a day or two." " I shall stay, of course ; I 'm oldest," began Meg, looking anxious and self-reproachful. 222 Little Women " / shall, because it 's my fault she is sick ; I told mother I 'd do the errands, and I have n't," said Jo decidedly. "Which will you have, Beth? there ain't no need of but one," said Hannah. " Jo, please ; " and Beth leaned her head against her sister, with a contented look, which effectually settled that point. " I '11 go and tell Amy," said Meg, feeling a little hurt, yet rather relieved, on the whole, for she did not like nursing, and Jo did. Amy rebelled outright, and passionately declared that she had rather have the fever than go to Aunt March. Meg reasoned, pleaded, and commanded: all in* vain. Amy protested that she would not go ; and Meg left her in despair, to ask Hannah what should be done. Before she came back, Laurie walked into the parlor to find Amy sobbing, with her head in the sofa-cushions. She told her story, expecting to be consoled ; but Laurie only put his hands in his pockets and walked about the room, whistling softly, as he knit his brows in deep thought. Presently he sat down beside her, and said, in his most wheedlesome tone, " Now be a sensible little woman, and do as they say. No, don't cry, but hear what a jolly plan I 've got. You go to Aunt March's, and I '11 come and take you out every day, driving or walking, and we '11 have capital times. Won't that be better than moping here? " " I don't wish to be sent off as if I was in the way," began Amy, in an injured voice. "Bless your heart, child, it's to keep you well. You don't want to be sick, do you?" " No, I 'm sure I don't ; but I dare say I shall be, for I *ve been with Beth all the time." Little Faithful 223 *' That 's the very reason you ought to go away at once, so that you may escape it. Change of air and care will keep you well, I dare say; or, if it does not entirely, you will have the fever more lightly. I advise you to be off as soon as you can, for scarlet fever is no joke, miss." " But it 's dull at Aunt March's, and she is so cross," said Amy, looking rather frightened. " It won't be dull with me popping in everyday to tell you how Beth is, and take you out gallivanting. The old lady likes me, and I '11 be as sweet as possible to her, so she won't peck at us, whatever we do." " Will you take me out in the trotting wagon with Puck?" *' On my honor as a gentleman." "And come every single day?" "See if I don't." "And bring me back the minute Beth is well?" " The identical minute." " And go to the theatre, truly? " " A dozen theatres, if we may." " Well — I guess — I will," said Amy slowly. " Good girl ! Call Meg, and tell her you '11 give in," said Laurie, with an approving pat, which annoyed Amy more than the " giving in." Meg and Jo came running down to behold the miracle which had been wrought; and Amy, feeling very pre- cious and self-sacrificing, promised to go, if the doctor said Beth was going to be ill. " How is the little dear? " asked Laurie ; for Beth was his especial pet, and he felt more anxious about her than he liked to show. " She is lying down on mother's bed, and feels better. The baby's death troubled her, but I dare say she has 2 24 Little Women only got cold. Hannah says she thinks so ; but she look^ worried, and that makes me fidgety," answered Meg. ** What a trying world it is ! " said Jo, rumpling up her hair in a fretful sort of way. " No sooner do we get out of one trouble than down comes another. There does n't seem to be anything to hold on to when mother 's gone ; so I 'm all at sea." "Well, don't make a porcupine of yourself, it isn't becoming. Settle your wig, Jo, and tell me if I shall telegraph to your mother, or do anything? " asked Laurie, who never had been reconciled to the loss of his friend's one beauty. " That is what troubles me," said Meg. " I think we ought to tell her if Beth is really ill, but Hannah says we must n'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 does n't seem quite right to me." " Hum, well, I can't say ; suppose you ask grand- father after the doctor has been." " We will. Jo, go and get Dr. Bangs at once," com- manded Meg; "we can't decide anything till he has been." " Stay where you are, Jo ; I 'm errand-boy to this establishment," said Laurie, taking up his cap. " I 'm afraid you are busy," began Meg. " No, I 've done my lessons for the day." " Do you study in vacation time? " asked Jo. ** I follow the good example my neighbors set me," was Laurie's answer, as he swung himself out of the room. " I have great hopes of my boy," observed Jo, watch- ing him fly over the fence with an approving smile. Little Faithful 225 " He does very well — for a boy," was Meg's some- what ungracious answer, for the subject did not interest her. Dr. Bangs came, said Beth had symptoms of the fever, but thought she would have it lightly, though he looked sober over the Hummel story. Amy was ordered off at once, and provided with something to ward off danger, she departed in great state, with Jo and Laurie as escort. Aunt March received them with her usual hospitality. " What do you want now? " she asked, looking sharply over her spectacles, while the parrot, sitting on the back of her chair, called out, — " Go away. No boys allowed here." Laurie retired to the window, and Jo told her story. ** No more than I expected, if you are allowed to go poking about among poor folks. Amy can stay and make herself useful if she is n't sick, which I 've no doubt she will be, — looks like it now. Don't cry, child, it worries me to hear people sniff." Amy tvas on the point of crying, but Laurie slyly pulled the parrot's tail, which caused Polly to utter an astonished croak, and call out, — " Bless my boots ! " in such a funny way, that she laughed instead. "What do you hear from your mother?" asked the old lady gruffly. *' Father is much better," replied Jo, trying to keep sober. " Oh, is he? Well, that won't last long, I fancy; March never had any stamina," was the cheerful reply. "Ha, ha! never say die, take a pinch of snuff, good t>y. good by ! " squalled Polly, dancing on her perch, and clawing at the old lady's cap as Laurie tweaked him in the rear. «$ 2 26 Little Women " Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird ! and, Jo, you 'd better go at once ; it is n't proper to be gad- ding about so late with a rattle-pated boy like — " " Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird ! " cried Polly, tumbling off the chair with a bounce, and running to peck the " rattle-pated " boy, who was shak- ing with laughter at the last speech. " I don't think I can bear it, but I '11 try," thought Amy, as she was left alone with Aunt March. " Get along, you fright ! " screamed Polly ; and at that rude speech Amy could not restrain a sniff. CHAPTER XVIII DARK DAYS BETH did have the fever, and was much sicker than any one but Hannah and the doctor suspected. The girls knew nothing about ill- ness, and Mr. Laurence was not allowed to see her, so Hannah had everything all her own way, and busy Dr. Bangs did his best, but left a good deal to the excellent nurse. Meg stayed at home, lest she should infect the Kings, and kept house, feeling very anxious and a little guilty when she wrote letters in which no mention was made of Beth's illness. She could not think it right to deceive her mother, but she had been bidden to mind Hannah, and Hannah would n't hear of " Mrs. March bein' told, and worried just for sech a trifle." Jo devoted herself to Beth day and night ; not a hard task, for Beth was very patient, and bore her pain uncomplainingly as long as she could control herself. But there came a time when during the fever fits she began to talk in a hoarse, Dark Days 227 broken voice, to play on the coverlet, as if on her beloved little piano, and try to sing with a throat so swollen that there was no music left; a time when she did not know the familiar faces round her, but addressed them by wrong names, and called imploringly for her mother. Then Jo grew frightened, Meg begged to be allowed to write the truth, and even Hannah said she " would think of it, though there was no danger j^/." A letter from Wash- ington added to their trouble, for Mr. March had had a relapse, and could not think of coming home for a long while. How dark the days seemed now, how sad and lonely the house, and how heavy were the hearts of the sisters as they worked and waited, while the shadow of death hovered over the once happy home ! Then it was that Margaret, sitting alone with tears dropping often on her work, felt how rich she had been in things more pre- cious than any luxuries money could buy, — in love, protection, peace, and health, the real blessings of life. Then it was that Jo, living in the darkened room, with that suffering little sister always before her eyes, and that pathetic voice sounding in her ears, learned to see the beauty and the sweetness of Beth's nature, to feel how deep and tender a place she filled in all hearts, and to acknowledge the worth of Beth's unselfish ambition to live for others, and make home happy by the exercise of those simple virtues which all may possess, and which all should love and value more than talent, wealth, or beauty. And Amy, in her exile, longed eagerly to be at home, that she might work for Beth, feeling now that no service would be hard or irksome, and remembering, with regretful grief, how many neglected tasks those willing hands had done for her. Laurie haunted the house like a restless ghost, and Mr. Laurence locked the 228 Little Women grand piano, because he could not bear to be reminded of the young neighbor who used to make the twilight pleasant for him. Every one missed Beth. The milkman, baker, grocer, and butcher inquired how she did ; poor Mrs. Hummel came to beg pardon for her thoughtless- ness, and to get a shroud for Minna; the neighbors sent all sorts of comforts and good wishes, and even those who knew her best were surprised to find how many friends shy little Beth had made. Meanwhile she lay on her bed with old Joanna at her side, for even in her wanderings she did not forget her forlorn 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, toss- ing to and fro, with incoherent words on her lips, or sank into a heavy sleep which brought her no refresh- ment. Dr. Bangs came twice a day, Hannah sat up at night, Meg kept a telegram in her desk all ready to send off at any minute, and Jo never stirred from Beth's side. The first of December was a wintry day indeed to them, for a bitter wind blew, snow fell fast, and the year seemed getting ready for its death. When Dr. Bangs came that morning, he looked long at Beth, held the hot hand in both his own a minute, and laid it gently down, saying, in a low tone, to Hannah, — " If Mrs. March can leave her husband, she'd better be sent for." Hannah nodded without speaking, for her lips twitched nervously; Meg dropped down into a chair as the 1 Dark Days 229 strength seemed to go out of her hmbs at the sound of those words ; and Jo, after standing with a pale face for a minute, ran to the parlor, snatched up the telegram, and, throwing on her things, rushed out into the storm. She was soon back, and, while noiselessly taking off her cloak, Laurie came in with a letter, saying that Mr. March was mending again. Jo read it thankfully, but the heavy weight did not seem lifted off her heart, and her face was so full of misery that Laurie asked quickly, — " What is it? is Beth worse? " " I 've sent for mother," said Jo, tugging at her rubber boots with a tragical expression. " Good for you, Jo ! Did you do it on your own responsibility?" asked Laurie, as he seated her in the hall chair, and took off the rebeUious boots, seeing how her hands shook. " No, the doctor told us to." " O Jo, it's not so bad as that? " cried Laurie, with a startled face. "Yes, it is ; she doesn't know us, she doesn't even talk about the flocks of green doves, as she calls the vine-leaves on the wall ; she does n't look like my Beth, and there 's nobody to help us bear it ; mother and father both gone, and God seems so far away I can't find Him." As the tears streamed fast down poor Jo's cheeks, she stretched out her hand in a helpless sort of way, as if groping in the dark, and Laurie took it in his, whispering, as well as he could, with a lump in his throat, — " I 'm here. Hold on to me, Jo, dear ! " She could not speak, but she did " hold on," and the warm grasp of the friendly human hand comforted her 230 Little Women sore heart, and seemed to lead her nearer to the Divine arm which alone could uphold her in her trouble. Laurie longed to say something tender and comfortable, but no fitting words came to him, so he stood silent, gently stroking her bent head as her mother used to do. It was the best thing he could have done ; far more soothing than the most eloquent words, for Jo felt the unspoken sympathy, and, in the silence, learned the sweet solace which affection administers to sorrow. Soon she dried the tears which had relieved her, and looked up with a grateful face. " Thank you, Teddy, I 'm better now; I don't feel so forlorn, and will try to bear it if it comes." "Keep hoping for the best; that will help you, Jo. Soon your mother will be here, and then everything will be right." " I 'm so glad father is better ; now she won't feel so bad about leaving him. Oh, me ! it does seem as if all the troubles came in a heap, and I got the heaviest part on my shoulders," sighed Jo, spreading her wet hand- kerchief over her knees to dry. "Doesn't Meg pull fair?" asked Laurie, looking indignant. " Oh, yes ; she tries to, but she can't love Bethy as I do ; and she won't miss her as I shall, Beth is my conscience, and I can't give her up. I can't ! I can't ! " Down went Jo's face into the wet handkerchief, and she cried despairingly ; for she had kept up bravely till now, and never shed a tear. Laurie drew his hand across his eyes, but could not speak till he had sub- dued the choky feeling in his throat and steadied his lips. It might be unmanly, but he could n't help it, and lam glad of it. Presently, as Jo's sobs quieted, he said hopefully, " I don't think she will die ; she 's so good, Dark Days 231 and we all love her so much, I don't believe God will take her away yet." " The good and dear people always do die," groaned Jo, but she stopped crying, for her friend's words cheered her up, in spite of her own doubts and fears. " Poor girl, you 're worn out. It is n't like you to be forlorn. Stop a bit; I '11 hearten you up in a jiffy." Laurie went off two stairs at a time, and Jo laid her wearied head down on Beth's little brown hood, which no one had thought of moving from the table where she left it. It must have possessed some magic, for the submissive spirit of its gentle owner seemed to enter into Jo ; and, when Laurie came running down with a glass of wine, she took it with a smile, and said bravely, " I drink — Health to my Beth ! You are a good doctor, Teddy, and such a comfortable friend ; how can I ever pay you ? " she added, as the wine refreshed her body, as the kind words had done her troubled mind. " I '11 send in my bill, by and by ; and to-night I '11 give you something that will warm the cockles of your heart better than quarts of wine," said Laurie, beam- ing at her with a face of suppressed satisfaction at something. " What is it ? " cried Jo, forgetting her woes for a minute, in her wonder. " I telegraphed to your mother yesterday, and Brooke answered she 'd come at once, and she '11 be here to- night, and everything will be all right. Are n't you glad I did it?" Laurie spoke very fast, and turned red and excited all in a minute, for he had kept his plot a secret, for fear of disappointing the girls or harming Beth. Jo grew quite white, flew out of her chair, and the moment he stopped speaking she ele'-trified him by throwing her arms 232 Little Women round his neck, and crying out, with a joyful cry, " O Laurie ! O mother ! I aifi so glad ! " She did not weep again, but laughed hysterically, and trembled and clung to her friend as if she was a little bewildered by the sudden news. Laurie, though decidedly amazed, behaved with great presence of mind ; he patted her back soothingly, and, finding that she was recovering, followed it up by a bashful kiss or two, which brought Jo round at once. Holding on to the banisters, she put him gently away, saying breathlessly, " Oh, don't! I didn't mean to; it was dreadful of me ; but you were such a dear to go and do it in spite of Hannah that I could n't help flying at you. Tell me all about it, and don't give me wine again ; it makes me act so." '* I don't mind," laughed Laurie, as he settled his tie. " Why, you see I got fidgety, and so did grandpa. We thought Hannah was overdoing the authority business, and your mother ought to know. She 'd never forgive us if Beth — well, if anything happened, you know. So I got grandpa to say it was high time we did something, and off I pelted to the office yesterday, for the doctor looked sober, and Hannah most took my head off when I proposed a telegram. I never can bear to be ' lorded over;' so that settled my mind, and I did it. Your mother will come, I know, and the late train is in at two, A.M. I shall go for her; and you 've only got to bottle up your rapture, and keep Beth quiet, till that blessed lady gets here." " Laurie, you 're an angel ! How shall I ever thank you?" " Fly at me again ; I rather like it," said Laurie, looking mischievous, — a thing he had not done for a fortnight. Ihildiiig oil lo the banisters, she put liim gently away Page 232 Dark Days 233 ** No, thank you. I '11 do it by proxy, when your grandpa comes. Don't tease, but go home and rest, for you '11 be up half the night. Bless you, Teddy, bless you ! " Jo had backed into a corner; and, as she finished her speech, she vanished precipitately into the kitchen, where she sat down upon a dresser, and told the assembled cats that she was " happy, oh, so happy ! " while Laurie departed, feeling that he had made rather a neat thing of it. " That 's the interferingest chap I ever see ; but I for- give him, and do hope Mrs. March is coming on right away," said Hannah, with an air of relief, when Jo told the good news. Meg had a quiet rapture, and then brooded over the letter, while Jo set the sick-room in order, and Hannah " knocked up a couple of pies in case of company unexpected." A breath of fresh air seemed to blow through the house, and something better than sunshine brightened the quiet rooms. Everything appeared to feel the hopeful change ; Beth's bird began to chirp again, and a half-blown rose was discovered on Amy's bush in the window ; the fires seemed to burn with unusual cheer- iness ; and every time the girls met, their pale faces broke into smiles as they hugged one another, whispering en- couragingly, "Mother's coming, dear! mother's com- ing I " 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 tan- gled on the pillow. All day she lay so, only rousing now and then to mutter, " Water ! " with lips so parched the)' 234 Little Women could hardly shape the word ; all day Jo and Meg hov- ered over her, watching, waiting, hoping, and trusting in God and mother ; and all day the snow fell, the bitter wind raged, and the hours dragged slowly by. But night came at last ; and every time the clock struck, the sisters, still sitting on either side the bed, looked at each other with brightening eyes, for each hour brought help nearer. The doctor had been in to say that some change, for better or worse, would probably take place about midnight, at which time he would return. Hannah, quite worn out, lay down on the sofa at the bed's foot, and fell fast asleep ; Mr. Laurence marched to and fro in the parlor, feeling that he would rather face a rebel battery than Mrs. March's anxious countenance as she entered ; Laurie lay on the rug, pretending to rest, but staring into the fire with the thoughtful look which made his black eyes beautifully soft and clear. The girls never forgot that night, for no sleep came to them as they kept their watch, with that dreadful sense of powerlessness which comes to us in hours like those. " If God spares Beth I never will complain again," whispered Meg earnestly. " If God spares Beth I '11 try to love and serve Him all my life," answered Jo, with equal fervor. " I wish I had no heart, it aches so," sighed Meg, after a pause. " If life is often as hard as this, I don't see how we ever shall get through it," added her sister despondently. Here the clock struck twelve, and both forgot them- selves 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 Dark Days 235 hush. Weary Hannah slept on, and no one but the sisters saw the pale shadow which seemed to fall upon the little bed. An hour went by, and nothing happened except Laurie's quiet departure for the station. Another hour, — still no one came ; and anxious fears of delay in the storm, or accidents by the way, or, worst of all, a great grief at Washington, haunted the poor girls. It was past two, when Jo, who stood at the window thinking how dreary the world looked in its winding- sheet of snow, heard a movement by the bed, and, turning quickly, saw Meg kneeling before their mother's easy-chair, with her face hidden. A dreadful fear passed coldly over Jo, as she thought, " Beth is dead, and Meg is afraid to tell me." She was back at her post in an instant, and to her excited eyes a great change seemed to have taken place. The fever flush and the look of pain were gone, and the beloved little face looked so pale and peaceful in its utter repose, that Jo felt no desire to weep or to lament. Leaning low over this dearest of her sisters, she kissed the damp forehead with her heart on her lips, and softly whispered, " Good-by, my Beth ; good-by ! " As if waked by the stir, Hannah started out of her sleep, hurried to the bed, looked at Beth, felt her hands, listened at her lips, and then, throwing her apron over her head, sat down to rock to and fro, exclaiming, under her breath, " The fever *s turned ; she 's sleepin' nat'ral ; her skin 's damp, and she breathes easy. Praise be given ! Oh, my goodness me ! " Before the girls could believe the happy truth, the doctor came to confirm it. He was a homely man, but they thought his face quite heavenly when he smiled, 236 Little Women and said, with a fatherly look at them, "Yes, my dears, I think the little girl will pull through this time. Keep the house quiet; let her sleep, and when she wakes, give her — " What they were to give, neither heard ; for both crept into the dark hall, and, sitting on the stairs, held each other close, rejoicing with hearts too full for words. When they went back to be kissed and cuddled by faithful Hannah, they found Beth lying, as she used to do, with her cheek pillowed on her hand, the dread- ful pallor gone, and breathing quietly, as if just fallen asleep. " If mother would only come now ! " said Jo, as the winter night began to wane. " See," said Meg, coming up with a white, half-opened rose, " I thought this would hardly be ready to lay in Beth's hand to-morrow if she — went away from us. But it has blossomed in the night, and now I mean to put it in my vase here, so that when the darling wakes, the first thing she sees will be the little rose, and mother's face." Never had the sun risen so beautifully, and never had the world seemed so lovely, as it did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo, as they looked out in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done. " It looks Hke a fairy world," said Meg, smiling to herself, as she stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight. " Hark ! " cried Jo, starting to her feet. Yes, there was a sound of bells at the door below, a cry from Hannah, and then Laurie's voice saying, in a joyful whisper, " Girls, she 's come ! she 's come ! " f Amy's Will 237 CHAPTER XIX amy's will WHILE these things were happening at home, Amy was having hard times at Aunt March's, She felt her exile deeply, and, for the first time in her life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home. Aunt March never petted any one ; she did not approve of it; but she meant to be kind, for the well-behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children, though she did n't think proper to confess it. She really did her best to make Amy happy, but, dear me, what mistakes she made ! Some old people keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, can sympathize with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at home, and can hide wise lessons under pleasant plays, giving and receiving friend- ship in the sweetest way. But Aunt March had not this gift, and she worried Amy very much with her rules and orders, her prim ways, and long, prosy talks. Finding the child more docile and amiable than her sister, the old lady felt it her duty to try and counteract, as far as possible, the bad effects of home freedom and indulgence. So she took Amy in hand, and taught her as she herself had been taught sixty years ago, — a process which car- ried dismay to Amy's soul, and made her feel like a fly in the web of a very strict spider. 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 238 Little Women escaped Aunt March's eye, and all the furniture had claw legs, and much carving, which was never dusted to suit. Then Polly must be fed, the lap-dog combed, and a dozen trips upstairs and down, to get things, or deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame, and seldom left her big chair. After these tiresome labors, she must do her lessons, which was a daily trial of every virtue she possessed. Then she was allowed one hour for exercise or play, and didn't she enjoy it? Laurie came every day, and wheedled Aunt March, till Amy was allowed to go out with him, when they walked and rode, and had capital times. After dinner, she had to read aloud, and sit still while the old lady slept, which she usually did for an hour, as she dropped off over the first page. Then patchwork or towels appeared, and Amy sewed with outward meekness and inward rebellion till dusk^ when she was allowed to amuse herself as she liked till tea-time. The evenings were the worst of all, for Aunt March fell to telling long stories about her youth, which were so unutterably dull that Amy was always ready to go to bed, intending to cry over her hard fate, but usually going to sleep before she had squeezed out more than a tear or two. If it had not been for Laurie, and old Esther, the maid, she felt that she never could have got through that dreadful time. The parrot alone was enough to drive her distracted, for he soon felt that she did not admire him, and revenged himself by being as mis- chievous 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 be- haved in all respects like a reprehensible old bird. Amy's Will 239 Then she could not endure the dog, — a fat, cross beast, who snarled and yelped at her when she made his toilet, and who lay on his back, with all his legs in the air and a most idiotic expression of countenance when he wanted something to eat, which was about a dozen times a day. The cook was bad-tempered, the old coachman deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took any notice of the young lady. 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 Mademoi- selle, 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 mag- pie. Amy's chief delight was an Indian cabinet, full of queer drawers, little pigeon-holes, and secret places, in which were kept all sorts of ornaments, some precious, some merely curious, all more or less antique. To ex- amine and arrange these things gave Amy great satis- faction, 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 dia- monds, 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 240 Little Women 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. " Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?" asked Esther, who always sat near to watch over and lock up the valuables. " I like the diamonds best, but there is no necklace among them, and I 'm fond of necklaces, they are so becoming. I should choose this if I might," replied Arny, looking with great admiration at a string of gold and ebony beads, from which hung a heavy cross of the same. " I, too, covet that, but not as a necklace ; ah, no ! to me it is a rosary, and as such I should use it like a good Catholic," said Esther, eying the handsome thing wistfully. " Is it meant to use as you use the string of good- smelling wooden beads hanging over your glass?" asked Amy. " Truly, yes, to pray with. It would be pleasing to the saints if one used so fine a rosary as this, instead of wearing it as a vain bijou." " You seem to take a great deal of comfort in your prayers, Esther, and always come down looking quiet and satisfied. I wish I could." " If Mademoiselle was a Catholic, she would find true comfort; but, as that is not to be, it would be well if you went apart each day, to meditate and pray, as did the good mistress whom I served before Madame. She had a little chapel, and in it found solacement for much trouble." Amy's Will 241 ** Would it be right for me to do so too ? " asked Amy, who, in her loneliness, felt the need of help of some sort, and found that she was apt to forget her little book, now that Beth was not there to remind her of it. "It would be excellent and charming; and I shall gladly arrange the little dressing-room for you if you like it. Say nothing to Madame, but when she sleeps go you and sit alone a while to think good thoughts, and pray the dear God to preserve your sister." Esther was truly pious, and quite sincere in her advice ; for she had an affectionate heart, and felt much for the sisters in their anxiety. Amy liked the idea, and gave her leave to arrange the light closet next her room, hoping it would do her good. " I wish I knew where all these pretty things would go when Aunt March dies," she said, as she slowly replaced the shining rosary, and shut the jewel-cases one by one. " To you and your sisters. I know it; Madame con- fides in me; I witnessed her will, and it is to be so," whispered Esther, smiling. " How nice ! but I wish she 'd let us have them now. Pro-cras-ti-nation is not agreeable," observed Amy, taking a last look at the diamonds. " It is too soon yet for the young ladies to wear these things. The first one who is affianced will have the pearls — Madame has said it ; and I have a fancy that the little turquoise ring will be given to you when you go, for Madame approves your good behavior and charming manners." " Do you think so? Oh, I'll be a lamb, if I can only have that lovely ring ! It 's ever so much prettier than Kitty Bryant's. I dQ like Aunt March, after all ; " and ;6 242 Little Women Amy tried on the blue ring with a delighted face, and a firm resolve to earn it. From that day she was a model of obedience, and the old lady complacently admired the success of her training. Esther fitted up the closet with a little table, placed a footstool before it, and over it a picture taken from one of the shut-up rooms. She thought it was of no great value, but, being appropriate, she borrowed it, well knowing that Madame would never know it, nor care if she did. It was, however, a very valuable copy of one of the famous pictures of the world, and Amy's beauty-loving eyes were never tired of looking up at the sweet face of the divine mother, while tender thoughts of her own were busy at her heart. On the table she laid her little Testament and hymn-book, kept a vase always full of the best flowers Laurie brought her, and came every day to " sit alone, thinking good thoughts, and praying the dear God to preserve her sister." Esther had given her a rosary of black beads, with a silver cross, but Amy hung it up and did not use it, feeling doubtful as to its fitness for Protestant prayers. The little girl was very sincere in all this, for, being left alone outside the safe home-nest, she felt the need of some kind hand to hold by so sorely, that she in- stinctively turned to the strong and tender Friend, whose fatherly love most closely surrounds his little children. She missed her mother's help to under- stand 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 Amy's Will 243 In her first effort at being very, very good, she de- cided to make her will, as Aunt March had done ; so that if she did fall ill and die, her possessions might be justly and generously divided. It cost her a pang even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were as precious as the old lady's jewels. During one of her play-hours she wrote out the im- portant 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 up- stairs 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 amuse- ment to array herself in the faded brocades, and parade up and down before the long mirror, making stately cour- tesies, 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 care- fully, 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 occa- sionally stopping to laugh or exclaim, " Ain't we fine? Get along, you fright ! Hold your tongue ! Kiss me, dear! Ha! ha!" Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merri- 244 Little Women ment, lest it should offend her majesty, Laurie tapped, and was graciously received. " Sit down and rest while I put these things away ; then I want to consult you about a very serious matter," said Amy, when she had shown her splendor, and driven Polly into a corner. "That bird is the trial of my life," she continued, removing the pink mountain from her head, while Laurie seated himself astride of a chair. " Yester- day, when aunt was asleep, and I was trying to be as still as a mouse, Polly began to squall and flap about in his cage; so I went to let him out, and found a big spider there. I poked it out, and it ran under the bookcase; Polly marched straight after it, stooped down and peeped under the bookcase, saying, in his funny way, with a cock of his eye, ' Come out and take a walk, my dear.' I couldn't help laughing, which made Poll swear, and aunt woke up and scolded us both." "Did the spider accept the old fellow's invitation?" asked Laurie, yawning. "Yes; out it came, and away ran Polly, fnghtened to death, and scrambled up on aunt's chair, calling out, ' Catch her ! catch her ! catch her ! ' as I chased the spider." " That 's a lie ! Oh lor ! " cried the parrot, pecking at Laurie's toes. " I 'd wring your neck if you were mine, you old tor- ment," cried Laurie, shaking his fist at the bird, who put his head on one side, and gravely croaked, " AUyluyer ! bless your buttons, dear ! " " Now I 'm ready," said Amy, shutting the wardrobe, and taking a paper out of her pocket. " I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is legal and right. I felt that I ought to do it, for life is uncertain and I don't want any ill-feeling over my tomb." Amy's Will 245 Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pen- sive speaker, read the following document, with praise- worthy gravity, considering the spelling : — "MY LAST WILL AND TESTIMENT. " I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, do give and bequeathe all my earthly property — viz. to wit : — namely " To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art, including frames. Also my $ioo, to do what he likes with. "To my mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with pockets, — also my likeness, and my medal, with much love. " To my dear sister Margaret, I give my turkquoise ring (if I get it), also my green box with the doves on it, also my piece of real lace for her neck, and my sketch of her as a memorial of her 'little girl.' "To Jo I leave my breast-pin, the one mended with seal- ing wax, also my bronze inkstand — she lost the cover — and my most precious plaster rabbit, because I am sorry I burnt up her story. "To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little bureau, my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can wear them being thin when she gets well. And I herewith also leave her my regret that I ever made fun of old Joanna. "To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeathe my paper marshay portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did say it had n't any neck. Also in return for his great kindness in the hour of affliction any one of my artistic works he likes, Noter Dame is the best. " To our venerable benefactor Mr. Laurence I leave my purple box with a looking glass in the cover which will be nice 246 Little Women for his pens and remind him of the departed girl who thanks him for his favors to her family, specially Beth. *' I wish my favorite playmate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron and my gold-bead ring with a kiss. "To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patch work I leave hoping she ' will remember me, when it you see.' *' And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all will be satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive every one, and trust we may all meet when the trump shall sound. Amen. " To this will and testiment I set my hand and seal on this 2oth day of Nov. Anni Domino 1861. "Amy Curtis March. ••fr.V«......4ESTELLEVALNOR, ( Theodore Laurence." The last name was written in pencil, and Amy ex- plained that he was to rewrite it in ink, and seal it up for her properly. " What put it into your head? Did any one tell you about Beth's giving away her things?" asked Laurie soberly, as Amy laid a bit of red tape, with sealing-wax, a taper, and a standish before him. She explained ; and then asked anxiously, " What about Beth?" " I 'm sorry I spoke ; but as I did, I '11 tell you. She felt so ill one day that she told Jo she wanted to give her piano to Meg, her cats to you, and the poor old doll to Jo, who would love it for her sake. She was sorry she had so little to give, and left locks of hair to the rest of us, and her best love to grandpa. She never thought of a will." Laurie was signing and scaling as he spoke, and did not look up till a great tear dropped on the paper. Amy's Confidential 247 face was full of trouble ; but she only said, " Don't people put sort of postscrips to their wills, sometimes? " " Yes ; ' codicils,' they call them." " Put one in mine then — that I wish all my curls cut off, and given round to my friends. I forgot it; but I want it done, though it will spoil my looks." Laurie added it, smiling at Amy's last and greatest sac- rifice. Then he amused her for an hour, and was much interested in all her trials. But when he came to go, Amy held him back to whisper, with trembling lips, " Is there really any danger about Beth?" " I 'm afraid there is ; but we must hope for the best, so don't cry, dear; " and Laurie put his arm about her with a brotherly gesture which was very comforting. When he had gone, she went to her little chapel, and, sitting in the twilight, prayed for Beth, with streaming tears and an aching heart, feeling that a million turquoise rings would not console her for the loss of her gentle little sister. CHAPTER XX CONFIDENTIAL I DON'T think I have any words In which to tell the meeting of the mother and daughters ; such hours are beautiful to live, but very hard to describe, so I will leave it to the imagination of my readers, merely saying that the house was full of gen- uine happiness, and that Meg's tender hope was real- ized ; 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 any- 248 Little Women thing, she only smiled, and nestled close into the loving arms about her, feeling that the hungry longing was satisfied at last. Then she slept again, and the girls waited upon their mother, for she would not unclasp the thin hand which clung to hers even in sleep. Hannah had " dished up " an astonishing breakfast for the traveller, finding it impossible to vent her ex- citement in any other way; and Meg and Jo fed their mother like dutiful young storks, while they listened to her whispered account of father's state, Mr. Brooke's promise to stay and nurse him, the delays which the storm occasioned on the homeward journey, and the unspeakable comfort Laurie's hopeful face had given her when she arrived, worn out with fatigue, anxiety, and cold. What a strange, yet pleasant day that was ! so bril- liant and gay without, for all the world seemed abroad to welcome the first snow; so quiet and reposeful within, for every one slept, spent with watching, and a Sabbath stillness reigned through the house, while nodding Hannah mounted guard at the door. With a blissful sense of burdens lifted off, Meg and Jo closed their weary eyes, and lay at rest, like storm-beaten boats, safe at an- chor in a quiet harbor. Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side, but rested in the big chair, waking often to look at, touch, and brood over her child, like a miser over some recovered treasure. Laurie, meanwhile, posted off" to comfort Amy, and told his story so well that Aunt March actually " sniffed " herself, and never once said, " I told you so." Amy came out so strong on this occasion that I think the good thoughts in the little chapel really began to bear fruit. She dried her' tears quickly, restrained her im- patience to see her mother, and never even thought of Confidential 249 the turquoise ring, when the old lady heartily agreed in Laurie's opinion, that she behaved " like a capital little woman." Even Polly seemed impressed, for he called her " good girl," blessed her buttons, and begged her to " come and take a walk, dear," in his most affable tone. She would very gladly have gone out to enjoy the bright wintry weather ; but, discovering that Laurie was drop- ping with sleep in spite of manful efforts to conceal the fact, she persuaded him to rest on the sofa, while she wrote a note to her mother. She was a long time about it; and, when she returned, he was stretched out, with both arms under his head, sound asleep, while Aunt March had pulled down the curtains, and sat doing nothing in an unusual fit of benignity. After a while, they began to think he was not going to wake till night, and I'm not sure that he would, had he not been effectually roused by Amy's cry of joy at sight of her mother. There probably were a good many happy little girls in and about the city that day, but it is my private opinion that Amy was the happiest of all, when she sat in her mother's lap and told her trials, re- ceiving 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 ob- ject when its purpose was explained to her. " On the contrary, I like it very much, dear," looking from the dusty rosary to the well-worn little book, and the lovely picture with its garland of evergreen. " It is an excellent plan to have some place where we can go to be quiet, when things vex or grieve us. There are a good many hard times in this life of ours, but we can always bear them if we ask help in the right way. I think my little girl is learning this? " " Yes, mother ; and when I go home I mean to have a 2^0 Little Women corner in the big closet to put my books, and the copy of that picture which I 've tried to make. The woman's face is not good, — it's too beautiful for me to draw, — but the baby is done better, and I love it very much. I like to think He was a little child once, for then I don't seem so far away, and that helps me." As Amy pointed to the smiling Christ-child on his mother's knee, Mrs. March saw something on the lifted hand that made her smile. She said nothing, but Amy understood the look, and, after a minute's pause, she added gravely, — " I wanted to speak to you about this, but I forgot it. Aunt gave me the ring to-day ; she called me to her and kissed me, and put it on my finger, and said I was a credit to her, and she 'd like to keep me always. She gave that funny guard to keep the turquoise on, as it's too big. I'd like to wear them, mother; can I?" " They are very pretty, but I think you 're rather too young for such ornaments. Amy," said Mrs. March, looking at the plump little hand, with the band of sky- blue stones on the forefinger, and the quaint guard, formed of two tiny, golden hands clasped together. " I '11 try not to be vain," said Amy. " I don't think I like it only because it's so pretty; but I want to wear it as the girl in the story wore her bracelet, to remind me of something." "Do you mean Aunt March?" asked her mother, laughing. " No, to remind me not to be selfish." Amy looked so earnest and sincere about it, that her mother stopped laughing, and listened respectfully to the little plan. " I 've thought a great deal lately about my ' bundle of naughties,' and being selfish is the largest one in it; 80 I 'm going to try hard to cure it, if I can. Beth is n't Confidential 251 selfish, and that 's the reason every one loves her and feels so bad at the thoughts of losing her. People would n't feel half so bad about me if I was sick, and I don't deserve to have them ; but I 'd like to be loved and missed by a great many friends, so I 'm going to try and be like Beth all I can. I 'm apt to forget my resolutions ; but if I had something always about me to remind me, I guess I should do better. May I try this way ? " " Yes ; but I have more faith in the corner of the big closet. Wear your ring, dear, and do your best; I think you will prosper, for the sincere wish to be good is half the battle. Now I must go back to Beth. Keep up your heart, little daughter, and we will soon have you home again." That evening, while Meg was writing to her father, to report the traveller's safe arrival, Jo slipped 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. "What is it, deary?" asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand, with a face which invited confidence. " I want to tell you something, mother." "About Meg?" " How quickly you guessed ! Yes, it 's about her, and though it's a little thing, it fidgets me." " Beth is asleep ; speak low, and tell me all about it. That Moffat hasn't been here, I hope?" asked Mrs. March rather sharply. " No, I should have shut the door in his face if he had," said Jo, settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet. " Last summer Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences', and only one was returned. We forgot all about it, till Teddy told me that Mr. Brooke had it. He kept it in his waistcoat pocket, and once it fell out. 2^2 Little Women and Teddy joked him about it, and Mr. Brooke owned that he hked Meg, but did n't dare say so, she was so young and he so poor. Now, is n't it a drcadi\x\ state of things? " "Do you think Meg cares for him?" asked Mrs. March, with an anxious look. " Mercy me ! I don't know anything about love and such nonsense ! " cried Jo, with a funny mixture of in- terest 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 does n't mind me as he ought." " Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John? " " Who? " cried Jo, staring. "Mr. Brooke. I call him 'John' now; we fell into the way of doing so at the hospital, and he likes it." " Oh, dear ! I know you '11 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 wrath- ful tweak. " My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you how it happened. John went with me at Mr. Laurence's request, and was so devoted to poor father that we could n'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 Confidential 253 him if he could. He is a truly excellent young man, and we could not refuse to listen to him ; but I will not consent to Meg's engaging herself so young." "Of course not; it would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing ; I felt it ; and now it 's worse than I imagined. I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family." This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile; but she said gravely, " Jo, I confide in you, and don't wish you to say anything to Meg yet. When John comes back, and I see them together, I can judge better of her feelings toward him." " She '11 see his in those handsome eyes that she talks about, and then it will be all up with her. She 's got such a soft heart, it will melt like butter in the sun if any one looks sentimentally at her. She read the short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and does n't think John an ugly name, and she '11 go and fall in love, and there 's an end of peace and fun, and cosey times together. I see it all ! they '11 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 were n't we all boys, then there would n't be any bother." Jo leaned her chin on her knees, in a disconsolate attitude, and shook her fist at the reprehensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up with an air of relief. "You don't like it, mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send him about his business, and not tell Meg a word 2 54 Little Women of it, but all be happy together as we always have been." " I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to homes of your own, in time ; but I do want to keep my girls as long as I can ; and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only seventeen, and it will be some years before John can make a home for her. Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My pretty, tender-hearted girl ! I hope things will go happily with her." " Had n't you rather have her marry a rich man ? " asked Jo, as her mother's voice faltered a little over the last words. " Money is a good and useful thing, Jo ; and I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much. I should like to know that John was firmly established in some good business, which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable. I 'm not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune; but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the daily bread is earned, and some priva- tions give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content to see Meg begin humbly, for, if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the possession of a good man's heart, and that is better than a fortune." " I understand, mother, and quite agree ; but I 'm dis- Confidential 255 appointed about Meg, for I 'd planned to have her marry Teddy by and by, and sit in the lap of luxury all her days. Would n't it be nice? " asked Jo, looking up, with a brighter face. " He is younger than she, you know," began Mrs. March ; but Jo broke in, — " Only a little ; he 's old for his age, and tall ; and can be quite grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he 's rich and generous and good, and loves us all ; and / say it 's a pity my plan is spoilt." " I 'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown up enough for Meg, and altogether too much of a weathercock, just now, for any one to depend on. Don't make plans, Jo ; but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We can't meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get * romantic rubbish,' as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship." *' Well, I won't ; but I hate to see things going all criss-cross and getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out. I wish wearing flat-irons on our heads would keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats, — more 's the pity!" " What's that about flat-irons and cats? " asked Meg, as she crept into the room, with the finished letter in her hand. " Only one of my stupid speeches. I 'm going to bed ; come, Peggy," said Jo, unfolding herself, like an animated puzzle. " Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that I send my love to John," said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter, and gave it back. " Do you call him ' John ' ? " asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes looking down into her mother's. 256 Little Women " Yes ; he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him," repHed Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one. " I 'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good-night, mother, dear. It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here," was Meg's quiet answer. The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one ; and, as she went away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, " She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to." CHAPTER XXI LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE JO'S face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her, and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so she felt sure of being told every- thing if she did not ask. She was rather surprised, therefore, when the silence remained unbroken, and Jo assumed a patronizing air, which decidedly aggravated Meg, who in her turn assumed an air of dignified reserve, and devoted herself to her mother. This left Jo to her own devices ; for Mrs. March had taken her place as nurse, and bade her rest, exercise, and amuse herself after her long confinfjment. 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, arvJ she feared he would coax her secret from her. Laurie Makes Mischief 257 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 in- difference, that he might surprise the truth from her; declared he knew, then that he did n't care ; and, at last, by dint of perseverance, he satisfied himself that it concerned Meg and Mr. Brooke. Feeling indignant that he was not taken into his tutor's confidence, he set his wits to work to devise some proper retaliation for the slight. Meg meanwhile had apparently forgotten the matter, and was absorbed in preparations for her father's re- turn ; but all of a sudden a change seemed to come over her, and, for a day or two, she was quite unlike herself. She started when spoken to, blushed when looked at, was very quiet, and sat over her sewing, with a timid, troubled look on her face. To her mother's inquiries she answered that she was quite well, and Jo's she silenced by begging to be let alone. " She feels it in the air — love, I mean — and she's going very fast. She 's got most of the symptoms, — is twittery and cross, does n't eat, lies awake, and mopes in corners. I caught her singing that song he gave her, and once she said 'John,' as you do, and then turned as red as a poppy. Whatever shall we do?" said Jo, looking ready for any measures, however violent. " Nothing but wait. Let her alone, be kind and patient, and father's coming will settle everything," replied her mother. " Here 's a note to you, Meg, all sealed up. How odd ! Teddy never seals mine," said Jo, next day, as she distributed the contents of the little post-office. Mrs, March and Jo were deep in their own affairs, 17 258 Little Women when a sound from Meg made them look up to see her staring at her note, with a frightened face. " My child, what is it?" cried her mother, running to her, while Jo tried to take the paper which had done the mischief. " It 's all a mistake — he did n't send it. O Jo, how could you do it?" and Meg hid her face in her hands, crying as if her heart was quite broken. "Me! I've done nothing! What's she talking about?" cried Jo, bewildered. Meg's mild eyes kindled with anger as she pulled a crumpled note from her pocket, and threw it at Jo, say- ing reproachfully, — " You wrote it, and that bad boy helped you. How- could you be so rude, so mean, and cruel to us both?" Jo hardly heard her, for she and her mother were reading the note, which was written in a peculiar hand. " My Dearest Margaret, — *' I can no longer restrain my passion, and must know my fate before I return. I dare not tell your parents yet, but I think they would consent if they knew that we adored one another. Mr. Laurence will help me to some good place, and then, my sweet girl, you will make me happy. I implore you to say nothing to your family yet, but to send one word of hope through Laurie to " Your devoted John." " Oh, the little villain I that 's the way he meant to pay me for keeping my word to mother. I '11 give him a hearty scolding, and bring him over to beg par- don," cried Jo, burning to execute immediate justice. But her mother held her back, saying, with a look she seldom wore, — " Stop, Jo, you must clear yourself first. You have Laurie Makes Mischief 259 played so many pranks, that I am afraid you have had a hand in this." " On my word, mother, I have n't ! I never saw that note before, and don't know anything about it, as true as I live ! " said Jo, so earnestly that they believed her. " If I had taken a part in it I 'd have done it better than this, and have written a sensible note. I should think you 'd have known Mr. Brooke would n't write such stuff as that," she added, scornfully tossing down the paper. " It 's like his writing," faltered Meg, comparing it with the note in her hand. " O Meg, you did n't answer it?" cried Mrs. March quickly. " Yes, I did ! " and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame. " Here 's a scrape ! Do let me bring that wicked boy over to explain, and be lectured. I can't rest till I get hold of him ; " and Jo made for the door again. " Hush ! let me manage this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret, tell me the whole story," com- manded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg, yet keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off. " I received the first letter from Laurie, who did n't look as if he knew anything about it," began Meg, with- out looking up. " I was worried at first, and meant to tell you ; then I remembered how you liked Mr. Brooke, so I thought you would n't mind if I kept my little secret for a few days. I 'm so silly that I liked to think no one knew; and, while I was deciding what to say, I felt like the girls in books, who have such things to do. Forgive me, mother, I'm paid for my silliness now; I never can look him in the face again." " What did you say to him? " asked Mrs. March. *' I only said I was too young to do anything about it 26o Little Women yet; that I did n't wish to have secrets from you, and he must speak to father. I was very grateful for his kindness, and would be his friend, but nothing more, for a long while." Mrs. March smiled, as if well pleased, and Jo clapped her hands, exclaiming, with a laugh, — " You are almost eV:iual to Caroline Percy, who was a pattern of prudence ! Tell on, Meg. What did he say to that?" " He writes in a different way entirely, telling me that he never sent any love-letter at all, and is very sorry that my roguish sister, Jo, should take such liberties with our names. It 's very kind and respectful, but think how dreadful for me ! " Meg leaned against her mother, looking the image of despair, and Jo tramped about the room, calling Laurie names. All of a sudden she stopped, caught up the two notes, and, after looking at them closely, said de- cidedly, " I don't believe Brooke ever saw either of these letters. Teddy wrote both, and keeps yours to crow over me with, because I would n't tell him my secret." " Don't have any secrets, Jo ; tell it to mother, and keep out of trouble, as I should have done," said Meg warningly. " Bless you, child ! Mother told me." " That will do, Jo. I '11 comfort Meg while you go and get Laurie. I shall sift the matter to the bottom, and put a stop to such pranks at once." Away ran Jo, and Mrs. March gently told Meg Mr. Brooke's real feelings. " Now, dear, what are your own? Do you love him enough to wait till he can make a home for you, or will you keep yourself quite free for the present?" Laurie Makes Mischief 261 " I Ve been so scared and worried, I don't want to have anything to do with lovers for a long while, — per- haps never," answered Meg petulantly. " If John doesnt know anything about this nonsense, don't tell him, and make Jo and Laurie hold their tongues. I won't be deceived and plagued and made a fool of, — it 's a shame ! " Seeing that Meg's usually gentle temper was roused and her pride hurt by this mischievous joke, Mrs. March soothed her by promises of entire silence, and great discretion for the future. The instant Laurie's step was heard in the hall, Meg fled into the study, and Mrs. March received the culprit alone. Jo had not told him why he was wanted, fearing he would n't come ; but he knew the minute he saw Mrs. March's face, and stood twirling his hat, with a guilty air which convicted him at once. Jo was dismissed, but chose to march up and down the hall like a sentinel, having some fear that the prisoner might bolt. The sound of voices in the parlor rose and fell for half an hour; but what happened during that interview the girls never knew. When they were called in, Laurie was standing by their mother, with such a penitent face that Jo forgave him on the spot, but did not think it wise to betray the fact. Meg received his humble apology, and was much comforted by the assurance that Brooke knew nothing of the joke. " I '11 never tell him to my dying day, — wild horses sha'n't drag it out of me ; so you '11 forgive me, Meg, and I '11 do anything to show how out-and-out sorry I am," he added, looking very much ashamed of himself. " I'll try; but it was a very ungentlemanly thing to do. I did n't think you could be so sly and malicious, 262 Little Women Laurie," replied Meg, trying to hide her maidenly con- fusion under a gravely reproachful air. * " It was altogether abominable, and I don't deserve to be spoken to for a month ; but you will, though, won't you?" and Laurie folded his hands together with such an imploring gesture, as he spoke in his irresistibly per- suasive tone, that it was impossible to frown upon him, in spite of his scandalous behavior. Meg pardoned him, and Mrs. March's grave face relaxed, in spite of her efforts to keep sober, when she heard him declare that he would atone for his sins by all sorts of penances, and abase himself like a worm before the injured damsel. Jo stood aloof, meanwhile, trying to harden her heart against him, and succeeding only in primming up her face into an expression of entire disapprobation. Laurie looked at her once or twice, but, as she showed no sign of relenting, he felt injured, and turned his back on her till the others were done with him, when he made her a low bow, and walked off without a word. As soon as he had gone, she wished she had been more forgiving; and when Meg and her mother went upstairs, she felt lonely, and longed for Teddy. After resisting for some time, she yielded to the impulse, and, armed with a book to return, went over to the big house. "Is Mr. Laurence in?" asked Jo, of a housemaid, who was coming downstairs. " Yes, miss ; but I don't believe he 's seeable just yet." "Why not? is he ill?" " La, no, miss, but he 's had a scene with Mr. Laurie, who is in one of his tantrums about something, which vexes the old gentleman, so I dursn't go nigh him." "Where is Laurie?" " Shut up in his room, and he won't answer, though Laurie Makes Mischief 263 I 've been a-tapping. I don't know what 's to become of the dinner, for it 's ready, and there 's no one to eat it." " I '11 go and see what the matter is. I 'm not afraid of either of them." Up went Jo, and knocked smartly on the door of Laurie's little study, " Stop that, or I '11 open the door and make you ! " called out the young gentleman, in a threatening tone. Jo immediately knocked again; the door flew open, and in she bounced, before Laurie could recover from his surprise. Seeing that he really was out of temper, Jo, who knew how to manage him, assumed a contrite expression, and going artistically down upon her knees, said meekly, " Please forgive me for being so cross. I came to make it up, and can't go away till I have." " It 's all right. Get up, and don't be a goose, Jo," was the cavalier reply to her petition. " Thank you ; I will. Could I ask what 's the matter? You don't look exactly easy in your mind." " I 've been shaken, and I won't bear it ! " growled Laurie indignantly. " Who did it? " demanded Jo. " Grandfather ; if it had been any one else I 'd have — " and the injured youth finished his sentence by an energetic gesture of the right arm. " That 's nothing ; I often shake you, and you don't mind," said Jo soothingly. " Pooh ! you 're a girl, and it 's fun ; but I '11 allow no man to shake me." " I don't think any one would care to try it, if you looked as much like a thunder-cloud as you do now. Why were you treated so?" " Just because I would n't say what your mother wanted 264 Little Women me for. I 'd promised not to tell, and of course I was n't going to break my word." " Could n't you satisfy your grandpa in any other way? " " No ; he would have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I 'd have told my part of the scrape, if I could without bringing Meg in. As I could n't, I held my tongue, and bore the scolding till the old gentleman collared me. Then I got angry, and bolted, for fear I should forget myself." " It was n't nice, but he 's sorry, I know ; so go down and make up. I '11 help you." " Hanged if I do ! I 'm not going to be lectured and pummelled by every one, just for a bit of a frolic. I zvas sorry about Meg, and begged pardon like a man ; but I won't do it again, when I was n't in the wrong." " He did n't know that." " He ought to trust me, and not act as if I was a baby. It 's no use, Jo ; he 's got to learn that I 'm able to take care of myself, and don't need any one's apron-string to hold on by." " What pepper-pots you are ! " sighed Jo. " How do you mean to settle this affair?" " Well, he ought to beg pardon, and believe me when I say I can't tell him what the fuss 's about." " Bless you ! he wont do that." " I won't go down till he does." " Now, Teddy, be sensible ; let it pass, and I '11 ex' plain what I can. You can't stay here, so what 's the use of being melodramatic?" " I don't intend to stay here long, any way. I '11 slip off and take a journey somewhere, and when grandpa misses me he '11 come round fast enough." " I dare say ; but you ought not to go and worry him." Laurie Makes Mischief 265 " Don't preach. I '11 go to Washington and see Brooke; it's gay there, and I '11 enjoy myself after the troubles." " What fun you 'd have ! I wish I could run off too," said Jo, forgetting her part of Mentor in lively visions of martial life at the capital. "Come on, then! Why not? You go and surprise your father, and I '11 stir up old Brooke. It would be a glorious joke ; let 's do it, Jo. We '11 leave a letter say- ing we are all right, and trot off at once. I 've got money enough ; it will do you good, and be no harm, as you go to your father." For a moment Jo looked as if she would agree ; for, wild as the plan was, it just suited her. She was tired of care and confinement, longed for change, and thoughts of her father blended temptingly with the novel charms of camps and hospitals, liberty and fun. Her eyes kindled as they turned wistfully toward the window, but they fell on the old house opposite, and she shook her head with sorrowful decision. " If I was a boy, we 'd run away together, and have a capital time ; but as I 'm a miserable girl, I must be proper, and stop at home. Don't tempt me, Teddy, it 's a crazy plan." " That's the fun of it," began Laurie, who had got a wilful fit on him, and was possessed to break out of bounds in some way. " Hold your tongue ! " cried Jo, covering her ears. " ' Prunes and prisms ' are my doom, and I may as well make up my mind to it. I came here to moralize, not to hear about things that make me skip to think of" " I know Meg would wet-blanket such a proposal, but I thought you had more spirit," began Laurie insinu- atingly. 2 66 Little Women "Bad boy, be quiet! Sit down and think of your own sins, don't go making me add to mine. If I get your grandpa to apologize for the shaking, will you give up running away?" asked Jo seriously, " Yes, but you won't do it," answered Laurie, who wished " to make up," but felt that his outraged dignity must be appeased first. " If I can manage the young one I can the old one," muttered Jo, as she walked away, leaving Laurie bent over a railroad map, with his head propped up on both hands. " Come in ! " and Mr. Laurence's grufif voice sounded gruffer than ever, as Jo tapped at his door. " It's only me, sir, come to return a book," she said blandly, as she entered. " Want any more? " asked the old gentleman, looking grim and vexed, but trying not to show it. " Yes, please. I like old Sam so well, I think I '11 try the second volume," returned Jo, hoping to propitiate him by accepting a second dose of Boswell's "Johnson," as he had recommended that lively work. The shaggy eyebrows unbent a little, as he rolled the steps toward the shelf where the Johnsonian literature was placed. Jo skipped up, and, sitting on the top step, affected to be searching for her book, but was really won- dering how best to introduce the dangerous object of her visit. Mr. Laurence seemed to suspect that something was brewing in her mind ; for, after taking several brisk turns about the room, he faced round on her, speaking so abruptly that " Rasselas " tumbled face downward on the floor. " What has that boy been about? Don't try to shield him. I know he has been in mischief by the way he acted when he came home. I can't get a word from Laurie Makes Mischief 267 him ; and when I threatened to shake the truth out of him he bolted upstairs, and locked himself into his room." " He did do wrong, but we forgave him, and all prom- ised not to say a word to any one," began Jo reluctantly. " That won't do ; he shall not shelter himself behind a promise from you soft-hearted girls. If he 's done any- thing amiss, he shall confess, beg pardon, and be pun- ished. Out with it, Jo, I won't be kept in the dark." Mr. Laurence looked so alarming and spoke so sharply that Jo would have gladly run away, if she could, but she was perched aloft on the steps, and he stood at the foot, a lion in the path, so she had to stay and brave it out. " Indeed, sir, I cannot tell ; mother forbade it. Laurie has confessed, asked pardon, and been punished quite enough. We don't keep silence to shield him, but some one else, and it will make more trouble if you interfere. Please don't ; it was partly my fault, but it 's all right now ; so let 's forget it, and talk about the ' Rambler,' or some- thing pleasant." " Hang the ' Rambler ! ' come down and give me your word that this harum-scarum boy of mine has n't done anything ungrateful or impertinent. If he has, after all your kindness to him, I '11 thrash him with my own hands." The threat sounded awful, but did not alarm Jo, for she knew the irascible old gentleman would never lift a finger against his grandson, whatever he might say to the con- trary. She obediently descended, and made as light of the prank as she could without betraying Meg or forget- ting the truth. " Hum — ha — well, if the boy held his tongue because he promised, and not from obstinacy, I '11 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 2 68 Little Women been out in a gale, and smoothing the frown from his brow with an air of relief " So am I ; but a kind word will govern me when all the king's horses and all the king's men could n't," said Jo, trying to say a kind word for her friend, who seemed to get out of one scrape only to fall into another. "You think I'm not kind to him, hey?" was the sharp answer. " Oh, dear, no, sir ; you are rather too kind sometimes, and then just a trifle hasty when he tries your patience. Don't you think you are? " Jo was determined to have it out now, and tried to look quite placid, though she quaked a little after her bold speech. To her great relief and surprise, the old gentle- man only threw his spectacles on to the table with a rattle, and exclaimed frankly, — " You 're right, girl, I am ! I love the boy, but he tries my patience past bearing, and I don't know how it will end, if we go on so." " I '11 tell you, he '11 run away." Jo was sorry for that speech the minute it was made; she meant to warn him that Laurie would not bear much restraint, and hoped he would be more forbearing with the lad. Mr. Laurence's ruddy face changed suddenly, and he sat down, with a troubled glance at the picture of a hand- some 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 re- membered and regretted the past, and she wished she had held her tongue. " He won't do it unless he is very much worried, and only threatens it sometimes, when he gets tired of study- ing. I often think I should like to, especially since my hair was cut; so, if you ever miss us, you may advertise Laurie Makes Mischief 269 for two boys, and look among the ships bound for India." She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently taking the whole as a joke. " You hussy, how dare you talk in that way? Where 's your respect for me, and your proper bringing up? Bless the boys and girls ! What torments they are ; yet we can't do without them," he said, pinching her cheeks good-humoredly. " Go and bring that boy down to his dinner, tell him it 's all right, and advise him not to put on tragedy airs with his grandfather. I won't bear it." "He won't come, sir; he feels badly because you did n't believe him when he said he could n't tell. I think the shaking hurt his feelings very much." Jo tried to look pathetic, but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began to laugh, and she knew the day was won. " I 'm sorry for that, and ought to thank him for not shaking vie, I suppose. What the dickens does the fellow expect? " and the old gentleman looked a trifle ashamed of his own testiness. " If I were you, I 'd write him an apology, sir. He says he won't come down till he has one, and talks about Washington, and goes on in an absurd way. A formal apology will make him see how foolish he is, and bring him down quite amiable. Try it; he likes fun, and this way is better than talking. I '11 carry it up, and teach him his duty." Mr. Laurence gave her a sharp look, and put on his spectacles, saying slowly, " You 're a sly puss, but I don't mind being managed by you and Beth. Here, give me a bit of paper, and let us have done with this nonsense." The note was written in the terms which one gentleman would use to another after offering some deep insult. Jo 270 Little Women dropped a kiss on the top of Mr. Laurence's bald head, and ran up to slip the apology under Laurie's door, advis- ing him through the key-hole, to be submissive, decorous, and a few other agreeable impossibilities. Finding the door locked again, she left the note to do its work, and was going quietly away, when the young gentleman slid down the banisters, and waited for her at the bottom, saying, with his most virtuous expression of countenance, " What a good fellow you are, Jo ! Did you get blown up?" he added, laughing. " No ; he was pretty mild, on the whole." " Ah ! I got it all round ; even you cast me off over there, and I felt just ready to go to the deuce," he began apologetically. " Don't talk in that way ; turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, my son." " I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copy-books ; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end," he said dolefully. " Go and eat your dinner ; you '11 feel better after it. Men always croak when they are hungry," and Jo whisked out at the front door after that. " That 's a ' label ' on my ' sect,' " answered Laurie, quoting Amy, as he went to partake of humble-pie dutifully with his grandfather, who was quite saintly in temper and overwhelmingly respectful in manner all the rest of the day. Every one thought the matter ended and the little cloud blown over ; but the mischief was done, for, though others forgot it, Meg remembered. She never alluded to a certain person, but she thought of him a good deal, dreamed dreams more than ever ; and once Jo, rum- maging her sister's desk for stamps, found a bit of paper Pleasant Meadows 271 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. CHAPTER XXII PLEASANT MEADOWS LIKE sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The invalids improved rap- idly, and Mr. March began to talk of returning early in the new year, Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats, at first, and, in time, with doll's sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her once active limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her a daily airing about the house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burnt her white hands cooking delicate messes for "the dear; " while Amy, a loyal slave of the ring, cele- brated her return by giving away as many of her treas- ures as she could prevail on her sisters to accept. As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the house, and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly impossible or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honor of this unusually merry Christmas. Laurie was equally impracticable, and would have had bonfires, sky-rockets, and triumphal arches, if he had had his own way. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered effectually quenched, and went about with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together. Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered 2^2 Little Women 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 suc- cess. To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them ; then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being dressed in her mother's gift, — a soft crimson merino wrapper, — was borne in triumph to the window to behold the offering of Jo and Laurie. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the name, for, like elves, they had worked by night, and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow-maiden, crowned with holly, bear- ing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of new music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips, on a pink paper streamer:-^ "THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH. "God bless you, dear Queen Bess ! May nothing you dismay, But health and peace and happiness Be yours, this Christmas Day. " Here 's fruit to feed our busy bee, And flowers for her nose ; Here's music for her pianee, An Afghan for her toes. " A portrait of Joanna, see, By Raphael No. 2, Who labored with great industry To make it fair and true. •* Accept a ribbon red, I beg, For Madam Purrer's tail ; And ice-cream made by lovely Peg, — A Mont Blanc in a pail. Pleasant Meadows 273 " Their dearest love my makers laid Within my breast of snow : Accept it, and the Alpine maid, From Laurie and from Jo." How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down to bring in the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she presented them ! " I 'm so full of happiness, that, if father was only here, I could n't hold one drop more," said Beth, quite sighing with contentment as Jo carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement, and to refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the " Jungfrau " had sent her. " So am I," added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the long-desired Undine and Sintram. " I 'm sure I am," echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of the Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her, in a pretty frame. " Of course I am ! " cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her first silk dress ; for Mr. Laurence had in- sisted on giving it. " How can / be otherwise?" said Mrs. March grate- fully, as her eyes went from her husband's letter to Beth's smiling face, and her hand caressed the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast. Now and then, in this work-a-day world, things do happen in the delightful story-book fashion, and what a comfort that is. Half an hour after every one had said they were so happy they could only hold one drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlor door, and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war-whoop ; for his face was so full of suppressed ex- 18 274 Little Women citement and his voice so treacherously joyful, that every one jumped up, though he only said, in a queer, breath- less voice, " Here 's another Christmas present for the March family." Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the eyes, leaning on the arm of an- other tall man, who tried to say something and could n't. Of course there was a general stampede ; and for sev- eral minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things were done, and no one said a word. Mr. March became invisible in the embrace of four pairs of loving arms ; Jo disgraced herself by nearly fainting away, and had to be doctored by Laurie in the china- closet; Mr. Brooke kissed Meg entirely by mistake, as he somewhat incoherently explained ; and Amy, the dignified, tumbled over a stool, and, never stopping to get up, hugged and cried over her father's boots in the most touching manner. Mrs. March was the first to recover herself, and held up her hand with a warning, "Hush! remember Beth!" But it was too late; the study door flew open, the little red wrapper appeared on the threshold, — joy put strength into the feeble limbs, — and Beth ran .straight into her father's arms. Never mind what happened just after that; for the full hearts overflowed, washing away the bitterness of the past, and leaving only the sweetness of the present. It was not at all romantic, but a hearty laugh set every- body straight again, for Hannah was discovered behind the door, sobbing over the fat turkey, which she had for- gotten 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. Pleasant Meadows 273 Brooke suddenly remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and, seizing Laurie, he precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to repose, which they did, by both sitting in one big chair, and talking hard. Mr. March told how he had longed to surprise them, and how, when the fine weather came, he had been al- lowed 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 would n't have something to eat. Jo saw and understood the look ; and she stalked grimly away to get wine and beef-tea, muttering to herself, as she slammed the door, " I hate estimable young men with brown eyes ! " There never was such a Christmas dinner as they had that day. The fat turkey was a sight to behold, when Hannah sent him up, stuffed, browned, and decorated ; so was the plum-pudding, which quite melted in one's mouth ; likewise the jellies, in which Amy revelled like a fly in a honey-pot. Everything turned out well, which was a mercy, Hannah said, " For my mind was that flustered, mum, that it 's a merrycle I did n't roast the pudding, and stuff" the turkey with raisins, let alone bilin' of it in a cloth." Mr. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr. Brooke, — at whom Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie's infinite amusement. Two easy-chairs stood side by side at the head of the table, in which sat Beth and her father, feasting modestly on chicken and a little fruit. 276 Little Women They drank healths, told stories, sung songs, " remi- nisced," as the old folks say, and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh-ride had been planned, but the girls would not leave their father ; so the guests departed early, and, as twilight gathered, the happy family sat together round the fire. " Just a year ago we were groaning over the dismal Christmas we expected to have. Do you remember?" asked Jo, breaking a short pause which had followed a long conversation about many things. " Rather a pleasant year on the whole ! " said Meg, smiling at the fire, and congratulating herself on hav- ing treated Mr. Brooke with dignity. " I think it 's been a pretty hard one," observed Amy, watching the light shine on her ring, with thoughtful eyes. "I'm glad it's over, because we've got you back," whispered Beth, who sat on her father's knee. " Rather a rough road for you to travel, my little pil- grims, especially the latter part of it. But you have got on bravely ; and I think the burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon," said Mr. March, looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered round him. " How do you know? Did mother tell you? " asked Jo. " Not much ; straws show which way the wind blows, and I 've made several discoveries to-day." " Oh, tell us what they are ! " cried Meg, who sat beside him. " Here is one ; " and taking up the hand which lay on the arm of his chair, he pointed to the roughened forefinger, a burn on the back, and two or three little hard spots on the palm. " I remember a time when Pleasant Meadows 277 this hand was white and smooth, and your first care was to keep it so. It was very pretty then, but to me it is much prettier now, — for in these seeming blemishes I read a httle history. A burnt-offering has been made of vanity; this hardened palm has earned something better than blisters; and I 'm sure the sewing done by these pricked fingers will last a long time, so much good- will went into the stitches. Meg, my dear, I value the womanly skill which keeps home happy more than white hands or fashionable accomplishments. I 'm proud to shake this good, industrious little hand, and hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away." If Meg had wanted a reward for hours of patient labor, she received it in the hearty pressure of her father's hand and the approving smile he gave her. "What about Jo? Please say something nice; for she has tried so hard, and been so very, very good to me," said Beth, in her father's ear. He laughed, and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite, with an unusually mild expression in her brown face. " In spite of the curly crop, I don't see the ' son Jo ' whom I left a year ago," said Mr. March. " I see a young lady who pins her collar straight, laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang, nor lies on the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and pale, Just now, with watching and anxiety; but I like to look at it, for it has grown gentler, and her voice is lower ; she does n't bounce, but moves quietly, and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly way which delights me. I rather miss my wild girl ; but if I get a strong, helpful, tender-hearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite satisfied. I don't know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep, but I do know that in all 278 Little Women Washington I could n't find anything beautiful enough to be bought with the five-and-twenty dollars which my good girl sent me." Jo's keen eyes were rather dim for a minute, and her thin face grew rosy in the firelight, as she received her father's praise, feeling that she did deserve a portion of it. " Now Beth," said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait. " There 's so little of her, I 'm afraid to say much, for fear she will slip away altogether, though she is not so shy as she used to be," began their father cheerfully; but recollecting how nearly he Jiad lost her, he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his own, " I 've got you safe, my Beth, and I '11 keep you so, please God." After a minute's silence, he looked down at Amy, who sat on the cricket at his feet, and said, with a caress of the shining hair, — " I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for her mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place to-night, and has waited on every one with patience and good-humor. I also observe that she does not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even mentioned a very pretty ring which she wears ; so I con- clude that she has learned to think of other people more and of herself less, and has decided to try and mould her character as carefully as she moulds her little clay fig- ures. I am glad of this ; for though I should be very proud of a graceful statue made by her, I shall be infi- nitely prouder of a lovable daughter, with a talent for making life beautiful to herself and others." " What are you thinking of, Beth? " asked Jo, when Amy had thanked her father and told about her ring. " I read in ' Pilgrim's Progress ' to-day, how, after Aunt March Settles the Question 279 many troubles, Christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow, where lilies bloomed all the year round, and there they rested happily, as we do now, before they went on to their journey's end," answered Beth ; adding, as she slipped out of her father's arms, and went slowly to the instrument, " It 's singing time now, and I want to be in my old place, I '11 try to sing the song of the shepherd-boy which the Pilgrims heard. I made the music for father, because he likes the verses." So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and, in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sung to her own accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for her: — " He that is down need fear no fall, He that is low no pride ; He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide. " I am content with what I have, Little be it or much ; And, Lord ! contentment still I crave, Because Thou savest such. " Fulness to them a burden is, That go on pilgrimage ; Here little, and hereafter bliss. Is best from age to age ! " CHAPTER XXni AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION 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 2 8o Little Women 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 fol- lowed Meg. Jo had sudden fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist at Mr. Brooke's umbrella, which had been left in the hall; Meg was absent-minded, shy, and silent, started when the bell rang, and colored when John's name was mentioned ; Amy said " Every one seemed waiting for something, and could n't settle down, which was queer, since father was safe at home," and Beth innocently wondered why their neighbors did n't run over as usual. Laurie went b}^ in the afternoon, and, seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly possessed with a melo- dramatic fit, for he fell down upon one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon ; and when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair. " What does the goose mean ? " said Meg, laughing, and trying to look unconscious. " He 's showing you how your John will go on by and by. Touching, isn't it?" answered Jo scornfully. " Don't say myjo/m, it is n'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 nnich about him, and there is n't to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before." Aunt March Settles the Question 281 " We can't, for something Jias been said, and Laurie's mischief has spoilt you for me. I see it, and so does mother; you are not hke your old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from mc. 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, malaurie meant what he said. " I know you will, and I 'm ever so much obliged ; you are always a great comfort to me, Teddy," returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands. "Well, now, don't be dismal, there's a good fellow. It's all right, you see. Meg is happy; Brooke will fly round and get settled immediately; grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jolly to see Meg m her own little house. We '11 have capital times after she is gone, Aunt March Settles the Question 293 for I shall be through college before long, and then we '11 go abroad, or some nice trip or other. Would n't that console you ? " "I rather think it would; but there's no knowing what may happen in three years," said Jo thoughtfully. " That 's true. Don't you wish you could take a look forward, and see where we shall all be then? I do," re- turned Laurie. " I think not, for I might see something sad ; and every one looks so happy now, I don't believe they could be much improved ; " and Jo's eyes went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for the prospect was a pleasant one. Father and mother sat together, quietly re-living the first chapter of the romance which for them began some twenty years ago. Amy was drawing the lovers, who sat apart in a beautiful world of their own, the light of which touched their faces with a grace the little artist could not copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerily with her old friend, who held her little hand as if he felt that it possessed the power to lead him along the peace- ful way she walked. Jo lounged in her favorite low seat, with the grave, quiet look which best became her ; and Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her curly head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the long glass which reflected them both. So grouped, the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it ever rises again, depends upon the reception given to the first act of the domestic drama called " Little Women." LITTLE WOMEN PART SECOND CHAPTER XXIV GOSSIP IN order that we may start afresh, and go to Meg's wedding with free minds, it will be well to begin with a little gossip about the Marches. And here let me premise, that if any of the elders think there is too much " lovering " in the story, as I fear they may (I 'm not afraid the young folks will make that objec- tion), I can only say with Mrs, March, "What can you expect when I have four gay girls in the house, and a dashing young neighbor over the way? " The three years that have passed have brought but few changes to the quiet family. The war is over, and Mr. March safely at home, busy with his books and the small parish which found in him a minister by nature as by grace, — a quiet, studious man, rich in the wisdom that is better than learning, the charity which calls all mankind " brother," the piety that blossoms into char- acter, making it august and lovely. These attributes, in spite of poverty and the strict integrity which shut him out from the more worldly successes, attracted to him many admirable persons, as naturally as sweet herbs draw bees, and as naturally he 296 Little Women gave them the honey into which fifty years of hard ex- perience had distilled no bitter drop. Earnest young men found the gray-headed scholar as young at heart "as they ; thoughtful or troubled women instinctively brought their doubts and sorrows to him, sure of find- ing 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 compan- ion in him ; ambitious men caught glimpses of nobler ambitions than their own ; and even worldlings con- fessed that his beliefs were beautiful and true, although " they would n't pay." To outsiders, the five energetic women seemed to rule the house, and so they did in many things ; but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter ; for to him the busy, anxious women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father. The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keep- ing, 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 tic which blesses life and outlives death. Mrs. March is as brisk and cheery, though rather grayer, than when we saw her last, and just now so absorbed in Meg's affairs that the hospitals and homes, still full of wounded "boys" and soldiers' widows, de- cidedly miss the motherly missionary's visits. John Brooke did his duty manfully for a year, got wounded, was sent home, and not allowed to return. He received no stars or bars, but he deserved them, Gossip 297 for he cheerfully risked all he had ; and life and love are very precious when both are in full bloom. Per- fectly 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 in- dependence that characterized him, he refused Mr. Laurence's more generous offers, and accepted the place of book-keeper, feeling better satisfied to begin with an honestly-earned salary than by running any risks with borrowed money. Meg had spent the time in working as well as waiting, growing womanly in character, wise in housewifely arts, and prettier than ever; for love is a great beautifier. She had her girlish ambitions and hopes,- and felt some disappointment at the humble way in which the new life must begin. Ned Moffat had just married Sallie Gardiner, and Meg could n'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 van- ished when she thought of all the patient love and labor John had put into the little home awaiting her; and when they sat together in the twilight, talking over their small plans, the future always grew so beautiful and bright that she forgot Sallie's splendor, and felt herself the richest, happiest girl in Christendom. Jo never went back to Aunt March, for the old lady took such a fancy to Amy that she bribed her with the offer of drawing lessons from one of the best teachers going ; and for the sake of this advantage, Amy would have served a far harder mistress. So she gave her mornings to duty, her afternoons to pleasure, and prospered finely. Jo, meantime, devoted herself to literature and Beth, who remained delicate long after 29^ Little Women the fever was a thing of the past. Not an invalid ex- actly, but never again the rosy, healthy creature she had been ; yet always hopeful, happy, and serene, busy with the quiet duties she loved, every one's friend, and an angel in the house, long before those who loved her most had learned to know it. As long as " The Spread Eagle " paid her a dollar a column for her " rubbish," as she called it, Jo felt herself a woman of means, and spun her little romances dili- gently. 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 manu- script, which was one day to place the name of March upon the roll of fame. Laurie, having dutifully gone to college to please his grandfather, was now getting through it in the easiest possible manner to please himself A universal favor- ite, thanks to money, manners, much talent, and the kindest heart that ever got its owner into scrapes by trying to get other people out of them, he stood in great danger of being spoilt, and probably would have been, like many another promising boy, if he had not possessed a talisman against evil in the memory of the kind old man who was bound up in his success, the motherly friend who watched over him as if he were her son, and last, but not least by any means, the knowledge that four innocent girls loved, admired, and believed in him with all their hearts. Being only " a glorious human boy," of course he frolicked and flirted, grew dandified, aquatic, senti- mental, 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 Gossip 299 of these pranks, he always managed to save himself by frank confession, honorable atonement, or the irre- sistible power of persuasion which he possessed in perfection. In fact, he rather prided himself on his narrow escapes, and liked to thrill the girls with graphic accounts of his triumphs over wrathful tutors, dignified professors, and vanquished enemies. The " men of my class " were heroes in the eyes of the girls, who never wearied of the exploits of " our fellows," and were frequently allowed to bask in the smiles of these great creatures, when Laurie brought them home with him. Amy especially enjoyed this high honor, and became quite a belle among them ; for her ladyship early felt and learned to use the gift of fascination with which she was endowed. Meg was too much absorbed in her private and particular John to care for any other lords of creation, and Beth too shy to do more than peep at them, and wonder how Amy dared to order them about so; but Jo felt quite in her element, and found it very difficult to refrain from imitating the gentlemanly atti- tudes, phrases, and feats, which seemed more natural to her than the decorums prescribed for young ladies. They all liked Jo immensely, but never fell in love with her, though very few escaped without paying the tribute of a sentimental sigh or two at Amy's shrine. And speaking of sentiment brings us very naturally to the " Dove-cote." That was the name of the little brown house which Mr. Brooke had prepared for Meg's first home. Laurie had christened it, saying it was highly appropriate to the gentle lovers, who " went on together like a pair of tur- tle-doves, with first a bill and then a coo." It was a tiny house, with a little garden behind, and a lawn about as 300 Little Women big as a pocket-handkerchief in front. Here Meg meant to have a fountain, shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers ; though just at present, the fountain was repre- sented by a weather-beaten urn, very like a dilapidated slop-bowl; the shrubbery consisted of several young larches, undecided whether to live or die ; and the pro- fusion of flowers was merely hinted by regiments of sticks, to show where seeds were planted. But inside, it was altogether charming, and the happy bride saw no fault from garret to cellar. To be sure, the hall was so narrow, it was fortunate that they had no piano, for one never could have been got in whole; the dining-room was so small that six people were a tight fit; and the kitchen stairs seemed built for the express purpose of precipitating both servants and china pell-mell into the coal-bin. But once get used to these slight blemishes, and nothing could be more complete, for good sense and good taste had presided over the furnishing, and the result was highly satisfactory. There were no marble-topped ta- bles, long mirrors, or lace curtains in the little parlor, buj: simple furniture, plenty of books, a fine picture or two, a stand of flowers in the bay-window, and, scattered all about, the pretty gifts which came from friendly hands, and were the fairer for the loving messages they brought. I don't think the Parian Psyche Laurie gave lost any of its beauty because John put up the bracket it stood upon ; that any upholsterer could have draped the plain muslin curtains more gracefully than Amy's artistic hand ; or that any store-room was ever better provided with good wishes, merry words, and happy hopes, than that in which Jo and her mother put away Meg's few boxes, barrels, and bundles ; and I am morally certain that the spandy-new kitchen never could have looked so cosey Gossip 301 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 ex- press service of the bridal china. People who hire all these things done for them never know what they lose ; for the homeliest tasks get beauti- fied if loving hands do them, and Meg found so many proofs of this, that everything in her small nest, from the kitchen roller to the silver vase on her parlor table, was eloquent of home love and tender forethought. What happy times they had planning together, what solemn shopping excursions ; what funny mistakes they made, and what shouts of laughter arose over Laurie's ridiculous bargains. In his love of jokes, this young gentleman, though nearly through college, was as much of a boy as ever. His last whim had been to bring with him, on his weekly visits, some new, useful, and ingen- ious article for the young housekeeper. Now a bag of remarkable clothes-pins ; next, a wonderful nutmeg- grater, which fell to pieces at the first trial ; a knife- cleaner that spoilt all the knives ; or a sweeper that picked the nap neatly off the carpet, and left the dirt; labor-saving soap that took the skin off one's hands ; infallible cements which stuck firmly to nothing but the fingers of the deluded buyer ; and every kind of tin-ware, from a toy savings-bank for odd pennies, to a wonderful boiler which would wash articles in its own steam, with every prospect of exploding in the process. In vain Meg begged him to stop. John laughed at him, and Jo called him " Mr. Toodles." He was pes- 302 Little Women sessed with a mania for patronizing Yankee ingenuity, and seeing his friends fitly furnished forth. So each week beheld some fresh absurdity. - Everything was done at last, even to Amy's arranging different colored soaps to match the different colored rooms, and Beth's setting the table for the first meal. " Are you satisfied ? Does it seem hke home, and do you feel as if you should be happy here? " asked Mrs. March, as she and her daughter went through the new kingdom, arm-in-arm ; for just then they seemed to cling together more tenderly than ever. "Yes, mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and so happy that I can't talk about it," answered Meg, with a look that was better than words. " If she only had a servant or two it would be all right," said Amy, coming out of the parlor, where she had been trying to decide whether the bronze Mer- cury looked best on the whatnot or the mantle-piece. " Mother and I have talked that over, and I have made up mind to try her way first. There will be so little to do, that, with Lotty to run my errands and help me here and there, I shall only have enough work to keep me from getting lazy or homesick," answered Meg tranquilly. " Sallie Moffat has four," began Amy. " If Meg had four the house would n't hold them, and master and missis would have to camp in the garden," broke in Jo, who, enveloped in a big blue pinafore, was giving the last polish to the door-handles. " Sallie is n'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 Gossip 303 themselves nothing to do but dress, give orders, and gos- sip. When I was first married, I used to long for my new clothes to wear out or get torn, so that I might have the pleasure of mending them ; for I got heartily sick of doing fancy work and tending my pocket handkerchief" " Why did n't you go into the kitchen and make messes, as Sallie says she does, to amuse herself, though they never turn out well, and the servants laugh at her," said Meg. " I did, after a while ; not to * mess,' but to learn of Hannah how things should be done, that my servants need not laugh at me. It was play then ; but there came a time when I was truly grateful that T 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 mis- tress of a house, however splendid, should know how work ought to be done, if she wishes to be well and honestly served." " Yes, mother, I 'm sure of that," said Meg, listening respectfully to the little lecture; for the best of women will hold forth upon the all-absorbing subject of 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. 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 should n't have a cent of her money. Aunt March was rather in a quandary, when time had appeased 304 Little Women 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 Jier pres- ent, 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-fash- ioned pearls, long promised to the first bride. " That 's a housewifely taste which I am glad to see. I had a young friend who set up housekeeping with six sheets, but she had finger bowls for company, and that satisfied her," said Mrs. March, patting the damask tablecloths, with a truly feminine appreciation of their fineness. " I have n't a single finger-bowl, but this is a ' set out ' that will last me all my days, Hannah says; " and Meg looked quite contented, as well she might. " Toodles is coming," cried Jo from below ; and they all went down to meet Laurie, whose weekly visit was an important event in their quiet lives. A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, a felt-basin of a hat, and a fly-away coat, came tramping down the road at a great pace, walked over the low fence without stopping to open the gate, straight up to Mrs. March, with both hands out, and a hearty — " Here I am, mother ! Yes, it 's all right." The last words were in answer to the look the elder lady gave him ; a kindly questioning look, which the handsome eyes met so frankly that the little ceremony closed, as usual, with a motherly kiss. Gossip 305 " For Mrs. John Brooke, with the maker's congratu- lations and compliments. Bless you, Beth ! What a refreshing spectacle you are, Jo. Amy, you are get- ting altogether too handsome for a single lady." As Laurie spoke, he delivered a brown paper parcel to Meg, pulled Beth's hair-ribbon, stared at Jo's big pin- afore, and fell into an attitude of mock rapture before Amy, then shook hands all round, and every one began to talk. " Where is John?" asked Meg anxiously. " Stopped to get the hcense for to-morrow, ma'am." "Which side won the last match, Teddy?" inquired Jo, who persisted in feeling an interest in manly sports despite her nineteen years. " Ours, of course. Wish you 'd been there to see." "How is the lovely Miss Randal?" asked Amy, with a significant smile. " More cruel than ever; don't you see how I'm pin- ing away?" and Laurie gave his broad chest a sound- ing slap and heaved a melodramatic sigh. "What's the last joke? Undo the bundle and see, Meg," said Beth, eying the knobby parcel with curiosity. " It's a useful thing to have in the house in case of fire or thieves," observed Laurie, as a watchman's rattle appeared, amid the laughter of the girls. " Any time when John is away, and you get fright- ened, Mrs. Meg, just swing that out of the front window, and it will rouse the neighborhood in a jiffy. Nice thing, isn't it?" and Laurie gave them a sample of its powers that made them cover up their ears. " There 's gratitude for you ! and speaking of grati- tude reminds me to mention that you may thank Han- nah for saving your wedding-cake from destruction. I saw it going into your house as I came by, and if she 3o6 Little Women had n't defended it manfully I 'd have had a pick at it, for it looked like a remarkably plummy one," " I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie," said Meg, in a matronly tone. " I 'm doing my best, ma'am, but can't get much higher, I 'm afraid, as six feet is about all men can do in these degenerate days," responded the young gentleman, whose head was about level with the little chandelier. " I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in this spick and span new bower, so, as I 'm tremen- dously hungry, I propose an adjournment," he added presently. " Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to settle," said Meg, bustling away. " Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant's to get more flowers for to-morrow," added Amy, tying a pictur- esque hat over her picturesque curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody. " Come, Jo, don't desert a fellow. I 'm in such a state of exhaustion I can't get home without help. Don't take off your apron, whatever you do ; it 's peculiarly becoming," said Laurie, as Jo bestowed his especial aver- sion in her capacious pocket, and offered him her arm to support his feeble steps. " Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about to-morrow," began Jo, as they strolled away together. " You must promise to behave well, and not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans." " Not a prank." " And don't say funny things when we ought to be sober." " I never do ; you are the one for that." Gossip 307 " And I implore you not to look at me during the cer- emony; I shall certainly laugh if you do." " You won't see me ; you '11 be crying so hard that the thick fog round you will obscure the prospect." " I never cry unless for some great affliction." "Such as fellows going to college, hey?" cut in Laurie, with a suggestive laugh. " Don't be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls company." " Exactly. I say, Jo, how is grandpa this week ; pretty amiable ? " " Very ; why, have you got into a scrape, and want to know how he '11 take it? " asked Jo rather sharply. " Now, Jo, do you think I 'd look your mother in the face, and say ' All right,' if it was n't ? " and Laurie stopped short, with an injured air. "No, I don't." " Then don't go and be suspicious ; I only want some money," said Laurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone. " You spend a great deal, Teddy." " Bless you, /don't spend it; it spends itself, some- how, and is gone before I know it." " You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow, and can't say ' No ' to any one. We heard about Henshaw, and all you did for him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blame you," said Jo warmly. " Oh, he made a mountain out of a mole-hill. You wouldn't have me let that fine fellow work himself to death, just for the want of a little help, when he is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?" "Of course not; but I don't see the use of your hav- ing seventeen waistcoats, endless neckties, and a new hat 3o8 Little Women 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 hide- ous, — to make your head look Hke a scrubbing-brush, wear a strait-jacket, orange gloves, and clumping, square- toed boots. If it was cheap ugliness, I 'd say nothing ; but it costs as much as the other, and I don't get any satisfaction out of it." Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that the felt-basin fell off, and Jo walked on it, which insult only afforded him an opportunity for expatiating on the advantages of a rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up the maltreated hat, and stuffed it into his pocket. " Don't lecture any more, there 's a good soul ! I have enough all through the week, and like to enjoy my- self when I come home. I '11 get myself up regardless of expense, to-morrow, and be a satisfaction to my friends." " I '11 leave you in peace if }'ou '11 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 scverel}^ "This unassuming style promotes study; that 's why we adopt it," returned Laurie, who certainly could not be accused of vanity, having voluntarily sacrificed a handsome curly crop to the demand for quarter-of-an- inch-long stubble. " By the way, Jo, I think that little Parker is really getting desperate about Amy. He talks of her con- stantly, writes poetry, and moons about in a most sus- picious manner. He 'd better nip his little passion in the bud, hadn't he? "added Laurie, in a confidential, eldcr-brothcrly tone, after a minute's silence. Gossip 309 "Of course he had; we don't want any more marry- ing 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 httle Parker were not yet in their teens. " It 's a fast age, and I don't know what we are com- ing to, ma'am. You are a mere infant, but you '11 go next, Jo, and we '11 be left lamenting," said Laurie, shak- ing his head over the degeneracy of the times. " Don't be alarmed ; I 'm not one of the agreeable sort. Nobody will want me, and it 's a mercy, for there should always be one old maid in a family." " You won't give any one a chance," said Laurie, with a sidelong glance, and a little more color than before in his sunburnt face. " You won't show the soft side of your character ; and if a fellow gets a peep at it by acci- dent, and can't help showing that he likes it, you treat him as Mrs. Gummidge did her sweetheart, — throw cold water over him, — and get so thorny no one dares touch or look at you." "I don't like that sort of thing; I'm too busy to be worried with nonsense, and I think it's dreadful to break up families so. Now don't say any more about it; Meg's wedding has turned all our heads, and we talk of nothing but lovers and such absurdities. I don't wish to get cross, so let 's change the subject ; " and Jo looked quite ready to fling cold water on the slightest provocation. Whatever his feelings might have been, Laurie found a vent for them in a long low whistle, and the fearful prediction, as they parted at the gate, " Mark my words, Jo, you '11 go next." 3IO Little Women CHAPTER XXV THE FIRST WEDDING THE June roses over the porch were awake bright and early on that morning, rejoicing with all their hearts in the cloudless sunshine, like friendly little neighbors, as they were. Quite flushed with excitement were their ruddy faces, as they swung in the wind, whispering to one another what they had seen ; for some peeped in at the dining-room windows, where the feast was spread, some climbed up to nod and smile at the sisters as they dressed the bride, others waved a welcome to those who came and went on various errands in garden, porch, and hall, and all, from the rosiest full-blown flower to the palest baby-bud, offered their tribute of beauty and fragrance to the gentle mis- tress who had loved and tended them so long. Meg looked very like a rose herself; for all that was best and sweetest in heart and soul seemed to bloom into her face that day, making it fair and tender, with a charm more beautiful than beauty. Neither silk, lace, nor orange-flowers would she have. " I don't want to look strange or fixed up to-day," she said. "I don't want a fashionable wedding, but only those about me whom I love, and to them I wish to look and be my familiar self. " So she made her wedding gown herself, sewing into it the tender hopes and innocent romances of a girlish heart. Her sisters braided up her pretty hair, and the only ornaments she wore were the lilies of the valley, which " her John " liked best of all the flowers that grew. The First Wedding 311 "You do look just like our own dear Meg, only so very sweet and lovely that I should hug you if it would n't crumple your dress," cried Amy, surveying her with delight, when all was done. " Then I am satisfied. But please hug and kiss me, every one, and don't mind my dress ; I want a great many crumples of this sort put into it to-day; " and Meg opened her arms to her sisters, who clung about her with April faces for a minute, feeling that the new love had not changed the old. " Now I 'm going to tie John's cravat for him, and then to stay a few minutes with father quietly in the study; " and Meg ran down to perform these little ceremonies, and then to follow her mother wherever she went, conscious that, in spite of the smiles on- the motherly face, there was a secret sorrow hid in the motherly heart at the flight of the first bird from the nest. As the younger girls stand together, giving the last touches to their simple toilet, it may be a good time to tell of a few changes which three years have wrought m their appearance; for all are looking their best just now. Jo's angles are much softened ; she has learned to carry herself with ease, if not grace. The curly crop has lengthened into a thick coil, more becoming to the small head atop of the tall figure. There is a fresh color in her brown cheeks, a soft shine in her eyes, and only gentle words fall from her sharp tongue to-day. Beth has grown slender, pale, and more quiet than ever ; the beautiful, kind eyes are larger, and in them lies an expression that saddens one, although it is not sad itself. It is the shadow of pain which touches the young face with such pathetic patience ; but Beth seldom 312 Little Women complains, and always speaks hopefully of " being better soon." Amy is with truth considered " the flower of the family; " for at sixteen she has the air and bearing of a full-grown woman — not beautiful, but possessed of that indescribable charm called grace. One saw it in the lines of her figure, the make and motion of her hands, the flow of her dress, the droop of her hair, — uncon- scious, yet harmonious, and as attractive to many as beauty itself. Amy's nose still afflicted her, for it never would grow Grecian ; so did her mouth, being too wide, and having a decided chin. These offending features gave character to her whole face, but she never could see it, and consoled herself with her wonderfully fair complexion, keen blue eyes, and curls, more golden and abundant than ever. All three wore suits of thin silver gray (their best gowns for the summer), with blush-roses in hair and bosom ; and all three looked just what they were, — • fresh-faced, happy-hearted girls, pausing a moment in their busy lives to read with wistful eyes the sweetest chapter in the romance of womanhood. There were to be no ceremonious performances, every- thing was to be as natural and homelike as possible ; so when Aunt March arrived, she was scandalized to see the bride come running to welcome and lead her in, to find the bridegroom fastening up a garland that had fallen down, and to catch a glimpse of the paternal minister marching upstairs with a grave countenance, and a wine-bottle under each arm. " Upon my word, here 's a state of things ! " cried the old lady, taking the seat of honor prepared for her, and settling the folds of her lavender nioirc with a great rustle. " You ought n't to be seen till the last minute, child." The First Wedding 313 " I 'm not a show, aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to criticise my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I 'm too happy to care what any one says or thinks, and I 'm going to have my Httle wedding just as I like it. John, dear, here's your hammer; " and away went Meg to help " that man " in his highly improper employment. Mr. Brooke did n'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-handkerchisf, with a sudden dew in her sharp old eyes. A crash, a cry, and a laugh from Laurie, accompanied by the indecorous exclamation, " Jupiter Ammon ! Jo 's upset the cake again ! " caused a momentary flurry, which was hardly over when a flock of cousins arrived, and " the party came in," as Beth used to say when a child. " Don't let that young giant come near me ; he worries me worse than mosquitoes," whispered the old lady to Amy, as the rooms filled, and Laurie's black head towered above the rest. " He has promised to be very good to-day, and he can be perfectly elegant if he likes," returned Amy, gliding away to warn Hercules to beware of the dragon, which warning caused him to haunt the old lady with a devo' tion that nearly distracted her. There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room as Mr. March and the young pair took their places under the green arch. Mother and sisters gathered close, as if loath to give Meg up ; the fatherly voice broke more than once, which only seemed to make the service more beautiful and solemn ; the bridegroom's hand trembled visibly, and no one heard 314 Little Women his replies; but Meg looked straight up in her husband's eyes, and said, " I will ! " with such tender trust in her own face and voice that her mother's heart rejoiced, and Aunt March sniffed audibly. Jo did 7iot cry, though she was very near it once, and was only saved from a demonstration by the conscious- ness that Laurie was staring fixedly at her, with a comi- cal mixture of merriment and emotion in his wicked black eyes. Beth kept. her face hidden on her mother's shoulder, but Amy stood like a graceful statue, with a most becoming ray of sunshine touching her white forehead and the flower in her hair. It was n't at all the thing, I 'm afraid, but the minute she was fairly married, Meg cried, " The first kiss for Marmee ! " and, turning, gave it with her heart on her lips. During the next fifteen minutes she looked more like a rose than ever, for every one availed them- selves of their privileges to the fullest extent, from Mr. Laurence to old Hannah, who, adorned with a head- dress fearfully and wonderfully made, fell upon her in the hall, crying, with a sob and a chuckle, " Bless you, deary, a hundred times ! The cake ain't hurt a mite, and everything looks lovely." Everybody cleared up after that, and said something brilliant, or tried to, which did just as well, for laughter is ready when hearts are light. There was no display of gifts, for they were already in the little house, nor was there an elaborate breakfast, but a plentiful lunch of cake and fruit, dressed with flowers. Mr. Laurence and Aunt March shrugged and smiled at one another when water, lemonade, and coffee were found to be the only sorts of nectar which the three Hebes carried round. No one said anything, however, till Laurie, who insisted on serving the bride, appeared before her, with I The First Wedding 315 a loaded salver in his hand and a puzzled expression on his face. "Has Jo smashed all the bottles by accident?" he whispered, " or am I merely laboring under a delusion that I saw some lying about loose this morning?" " No ; your grandfather kindly offered us his best, and Aunt March actually sent some, but father put away a little for Beth, and despatched the rest to the Soldiers' Home. You know he thinks that wine should be used only in illness, and mother says that neither she nor her daughters will ever offer it to any young man under her roof." Meg spoke seriously, and expected to see T.aurie frown or laugh ; but he did neither, for after a quick look at her, he said, in his impetuous way, " I like that ! for I 've seen enough harm done to wish other women would think as you do." "You are not made wise by experience, I hope?" and there was an anxious accent in Meg's voice. " No ; I give you my word for it. Don't think too well of me, either ; this is not one of my temptations. Being brought up where wine is as common as water, and almost as harmless, I don't care for it ; but when a pretty girl offers it, one does n't like to refuse, you see." " But you will, for the sake of others, if not for your own. Come, Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest day of my life." A demand so sudden and so serious made the young man hesitate a moment, for ridicule is often harder to bear than self-denial. Meg knew that if he gave the promise he would keep it at all costs ; and, feeling her power, used it as a woman may for her friend's good. She did not speak, but she looked up at him with a face made very eloquent by happiness, and a 3i6 Little Women smile which said, '* No one can refuse me anything to-day." Laurie certainly could not; and, with an answering smile, he gave her his hand, saying heartily, " I promise, Mrs. Brooke ! " " I thank you, very, very much." " And I drink ' long hfe to your resolution,' Teddy," cried Jo, baptizing him with a splash of lemonade, as she waved her glass, and beamed approvingly upon him. So the toast was drunk, the pledge made, and loyally kept, in spite of many temptations ; for, with instinctive wisdom, the girls had seized a happy moment to do their friend a service, for which he thanked them all his life. After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through house and garden, enjoying the sunshine without and within. Meg and John happened to be standing together in the middle of the grass-plot, when Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to this unfashionable wedding. " All the married people take hands and dance round the new-made husband and wife, as the Germans do, while we bachelors and spinsters prance in couples out- side ! " 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 chassded 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 The First Wedding 317 bridal pair, while the young folks pervaded the garden, like butterflies on a midsummer day. Want of breath brought the impromptu ball to a close, and then people began to go. " I wish you well, my dear, I heartily wish you well ; but I think you '11 be sorry for it," said Aunt March to Meg, adding to the bridegroom, as he led her to the carriage, " You 've got a treasure, young man, see that you deserve it." " That is the prettiest wedding I 've been to for an age, Ned, and I don't see why, for there was n't a bit of style about it," observed Mrs. Moffat to her husband, as they drove away. " Laurie, my lad, if you ever want to indulge in this sort of thing, get one of those little girls to help you, and I shall be perfectly satisfied," said Mr. Laurence, settling himself in his easy-chair to rest, after the excite- ment of the morning. " I '11 do my best to gratify you, sir," was Laurie's unusually dutiful reply, as he carefully unpinned the posy Jo had put in his button-hole. The little house was not far away, and the only bridal journey Meg had was the quiet walk with John, from the old home to the new. When she came down, look- ing like a pretty Quakeress in her dove-colored suit and straw bonnet tied with white, they all gathered about her to say " good-by," as tenderly as if she had been going to make the grand tour. " Don't feel that I am separated from you, Marmee dear, or that I love you any the less for loving John so much," she said, clinging to her mother, with full eyes, for a moment. " I shall come every day, father, and expect to keep my old place in all your hearts, though I am married. Beth is going to be with me a great deal, 3i8 Little Women and the other girls will drop in now and then to laugh at my housekeeping struggles. Thank you all for my happy wedding-day. Good-by, good-by ! " They stood watching her, with faces full of love and hope and tender pride, as she walked away, leaning on her husband's arm, with her hands full of flowers, and the June sunshine brightening her happy face, — and so Meg's married life began. CHAPTER XXVI ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS IT takes people a long time to learn the difference between talent and genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy was learning this distinction through much tribulation ; for, mistaking enthusiasm for inspiration, she attempted every branch of art with youthful audacity. For a long time there was a lull in the " mud-pie " business, and she devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing, in which she showed such taste and skill that her graceful handiwork proved both pleasant and profitable. But overstrained eyes soon caused pen and ink to be laid aside for a bold attempt at poker-sketching. While this attack lasted, the family lived in constant fear of a conflagration ; for the odor of burning wood pervaded the house at all hours ; smoke issued from attic and shed with alarming frequency, red-hot pokers lay about promiscuously, and Hannah never went to bed without a pail of water and the dinner-bell at her door, in case of fire. Raphael's face was found boldly executed on the under side of the moulding-board, and Artistic Attempts 319 Bacchus on the head of a beer-barrel ; a chanting cherub adorned the cover of the sugar-bucket, and at- tempts to portray Romeo and JuHet supphed kindlings for some time. From fire to oil was a natural transition for burnt fin- gers, and Amy fell to painting with undiminished ardor. An artist friend fitted her out with his cast-off palettes, brushes, and colors; and she daubed away, producing pastoral and marine views such as were never seen on land or sea. Her monstrosities in the way of cattle would have taken prizes at an agricultural fair ; and the perilous pitching of her vessels would have produced sea-sickness in the most nautical observer, if the utter disregard to all known rules of shipbuilding and rigging had not convulsed him with laughter at the first glance. Swarthy boys and dark-eyed Madonnas, staring at you from one corner of the studio, suggested Murillo ; oily- brown shadows of faces, with a lurid streak in the wrong place, meant Rembrandt; buxom ladies and dropsical infants, Rubens ; and Turner appeared in tempests of blue thunder, orange lightning, brown rain, and purple clouds, with a tomato-colored splash in the middle, which might be the sun or a buoy, a sailor's shirt or a king's robe, as the spectator pleased. Charcoal portraits came next ; and the entire family hung' in a row, looking as wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coal-bin. Softened into crayon sketches, they did better; for the likenesses were good, and Amy's hair, Jo's nose, Meg's mouth, and Laurie's eyes were pronounced " wonderfully fine." A return to clay and plaster followed, and ghostly casts of her acquaintances haunted corners of the house, or tumbled off closet- shelves on to people's heads. Children were enticed in as models, till their incoherent accounts of her myste* 3 20 Little Women rious doings caused Miss Amy to be regarded in the light of a young ogress. Her efforts in this Hne, how- ever, 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. After this Amy subsided, till a mania for sketching from nature set \}er to haunting river, field, and wood for picturesque studies, and sighing for ruins to copy. She caught endless colds sitting on damp grass to book " a delicious bit," composed of a stone, a stump, one mushroom, and a broken mullein-stalk, or " a heavenly mass of clouds," that looked like a choice display of feather-beds when done. She sacrificed her complexion floating on the river in the midsummer sun, to study light and shade, and got a wrinkle over her nose, trying after " points of sight," or whatever the squint-and-string performance is called. If " genius is eternal patience," as Michael Angelo affirms, Amy certainly had some claim to the divine at- tribute, for she persevered in spite of all obstacles, fail- ures, and discouragements, firmly believing that in time she should do something worthy to be called " high art." She was learning, doing, and enjoying other things, meanwhile, for she had resolved to be an attractive and i, Artistic Attempts 321 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 in- stinctive 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 Vv'hat to do." One of her weaknesses was a desire to move in " our best society," without being quite sure what the best really was. Money, position, fashionable accomplish- ments, 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 oppor- tunity came she might be ready to take the place from which poverty now excluded her. " My lady," as her friends called her, sincerely desired to be a genuine lady, and was so at heart, but had yet to learn that money cannot buy refinement of nature, that rank does not always confer nobility, and that true breeding makes itself felt in spite of external drawbacks. " I want to ask a favor of you, mamma," Amy said, coming in, with an important air, one day. "Well, little girl, what is it?" replied her mother, in whose eyes the stately young lady still remained " the baby." ai 3 22 Little Women " Our drawing class breaks up next week, and before the girls separate for the summer, I want to ask them out here for a day. They are wild to see the river, sketch the broken bridge, and copy some of the things they admire in my book. They have been very kind to me in many ways, and I am grateful, for they are all rich, and know I am poor, yet they never made any difference." " Why should they? " and Mrs. March put the ques- tion with what the girls called her " Maria Theresa air." " You know as well as I that it docs make a differ- ence with nearly every one, so don't ruffle up, like a dear, motherly hen, when your chickens get pecked by smarter birds ; the ugly duckling turned out a swan, you know ; " and Amy smiled without bitterness, for she possessed a happy temper and hopeful spirit. Mrs. March laughed, and smoothed down her maternal pride as she asked, — " Well, my swan, what is your plan? " " I should like to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to take them a drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river, perhaps, and make a little artistic///^ for them." "That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?" " Oh dear, no ! we must have cold tongue and chicken, French chocolate and ice-cream, besides. The girls are used to such things, and I want my lunch to be proper and elegant, though I do work for my living." "How many young ladies are there?" asked her mother, beginning to look sober. " Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won't all come." Artistic Attempts 323 " Bless me, child, you will have to charter an omnibus to carry them about." "Why, mother, how can you think of such a thing? Not more than six or eight will probably come, so I shall hire a beach-wagon, and borrow Mr. Laurence's cherry-bounce." (Hannah's pronunciation of char-d- banc?) " All this will be expensive, Amy." " Not very ; I 've calculated the cost, and I '11 pay for it myself." " Don't you think, dear, that as these girls are used to such things, and the best we can do will be nothing new, that some simpler plan would be pleasanter to them, as a change, if nothing more, and much better for us than buying or borrowing what we don't need, and attempting a style not in keeping with our circumstances? " " If I can't have it as I like, I don't care to have it at all. I know that I can carry it out perfectly well, if you and the girls will help a little ; and I don't see why I can't if I 'm willing to pay for it," said Amy, with the decision which opposition was apt to change into obstinacy. Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher, and when it was possible she left her children to learn alone the lessons which she would gladly have made easier, if they had not objected to taking advice as much as they did salts and senna. "Very well. Amy; if your heart is set upon it, and you see your way through without too great an outlay of money, time, and temper, I '11 say no more. Talk it over with the girls, and whichever way you decide, I '11 do my best to help you." "Thanks, mother; you are always so kind;" and away went Amy to lay her plan before her sisters. 324 Little Women Meg agreed at once, and promised her aid, gladly offering anything she possessed, from her little house itself to her very best salt-spoons. But Jo frowned upon the whole project, and would have nothing to do with it at first. " Why in the world should you spend your money, worry your family, and turn the house upside down for a parcel of girls who don't care a sixpence for you ? I thought you had too much pride and sense to truckle to any mortal woman just because she wears French boots and rides in a coupe" said Jo, who, being called from the tragical climax of her novel, was not in the best mood for social enterprises. " I dont truckle, and I hate being patronized as much as you do ! " returned Amy indignantly, for the two still jangled when such questions arose. " The girls do care for me, and I for them, and there 's a great deal of kindness and sense and talent among them, in spite of what you call fashionable nonsense. You don't care to make people like you, to go into good society, and cultivate your manners and tastes. I do, and I mean to make the most of every chance that comes. You can go through the world with your elbows out and your nose in the air, and call it independence, if you like. That 's not my way." When Amy whetted her tongue and freed her mind she usually got the best of it, for she seldom failed to have common sense on her side, while Jo carried her love of liberty and hate of conventionalities to such an unlimited extent that she naturally found herself worsted in an argument. Amy's definition of Jo's idea of inde- pendence 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 Artistic Attempts 325 a day to Mrs. Grundy, and help her sister through what she regarded as " a nonsensical business." The invitations were sent, nearly all accepted, and the following Monday was set apart for the grand event. Hannah was out of humor because her week's work was deranged, and prophesied that " ef the washin' and ironin' warn't done reg'lar nothin' would go well any- wheres." 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 did n't turn out well : the chicken was tough, the tongue too salt, and the chocolate would n'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 alarm- ingly afterward. Beth got cold and took to her bed, Meg had an unusual number of callers to keep her at home, and Jo was in such a divided state of mind that her breakages, accidents, and mistakes were uncom- monly numerous, serious, and trying. " If it had n't been for mother I never should have got through," as Amy declared afterward, and gratefully remembered when " the best joke of the season " was entirely forgotten by everybody else. If it was not fair on Monday, the young ladies were to come on Tuesday, — an arrangement which aggravated Jo and Hannah to the last degree. On Monday morn- ing 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 did n't make up its mind till it was too late for any one else to make up theirs. Amy was up at dawn, hustling people out of 326 Little Women their beds and through their breakfasts, that the house might be got in order. The parlor struck her as look- ing uncommonly shabby ; but without stopping to sigh for what she had not, she skilfully made the best of what she had, arranging chairs over the worn places in the carpet, covering stains on the walls with pictures framed in ivy, and filling up empty corners with home-made statuary, which gave an artistic air to the room, as did the lovely vases of flowers Jo scattered about. The lunch looked charmingly; and as she surveyed it, she sincerely hoped it would taste well, and that the borrowed glass, china, and silver would get safely home again. The carriages were promised, Meg and mother were all ready to do the honors, Beth was able to help Hannah behind the scenes, Jo had engaged to be as lively and amiable as an absent mind, an aching head, and a very decided disapproval of everybody and every- thing would allow, and, as she wearily dressed. Amy cheered herself with anticipations of the happy moment, when, lunch safely over, she should drive away with her friends for an afternoon of artistic delights ; for the " cherry-bounce" and the broken bridge were her strong points. Then came two hours of suspense, during which she vibrated from parlor to porch, while public opinion varied like the weathercock. A smart shower at eleven had evidently quenched the enthusiasm of the young ladies who were to arrive at twelve, for nobody came ; and at two the exhausted family sat down in a blaze of sunshine to consume the perishable portions of the feast, that nothing might be lost. " No doubt about the weather to-day; they will cer- tainly come, so we must fly round and be ready for them," said Amy, as the sun woke her next morning. Artistic Attempts 327 She spoke briskly, but in her secret soul she wished she had said nothing about Tuesday, for her interest, like her cake, was getting a little stale. " I can't get any lobsters, so you will have to do with- out salad to-day," said Mr. March, coming in half an hour later, with an expression of placid despair. " Use the chicken, then ; the toughness won't matter in a salad," advised his wife. " Hannah left it on the kitchen-table a minute, and the kittens got at it. I 'm very sorry. Amy," added Beth, who was still a patroness of cats. " Then I must have a lobster, for tongue alone won't do," said Amy decidedly. " Shall I rush into town and demand one? " asked Jo, with the magnanimity of a martyr. " You 'd come bringing it home under your arm, without any paper, just to try me. I '11 go myself," answered Amy, whose temper was beginning to fail. Shrouded in a thick veil and armed with a genteel travelling-basket, she departed, feeling that a cool drive would soothe her ruffled spirit, and fit her for the labors of the day. After some delay, the object of her desire was procured, likewise a bottle of dressing, to prevent further loss of time at home, and off she drove again, well pleased with her own forethought. As the omnibus contained only one other passenger, a sleepy old lady, Amy pocketed her veil, and beguiled the tedium of the way by trying to find out where all her money had gone to. So busy was she with her card full of refractory figures that she did not observe a new- comer, who entered without stopping the vehicle, till a masculine voice said, " Good-morning, Miss March," and, looking up, she beheld one of Laurie's most elegant college friends. Fervently hoping that he would get 328 Little Women out before she did, Amy utterly ignored the basket at her feet, and, congratulating herself that she had on her new travelling dress, returned the young man's greeting with her usual suavity and spirit. They got on excellently; for Amy's chief care was soon set at rest by learning that the gentleman would leave first, and she was chatting away in a peculiarly lofty strain, when the old lady got out. In stumbling to the door, she upset the basket, and — oh, horror! — the lobster, in all its vulgar size and brilliancy, was revealed to the high-born eyes of a Tudor. " By Jove, she 's forgotten her dinner ! " cried the un- conscious youth, poking the scarlet monster into its place with his cane, and preparing to hand out the bas- ket after the old lady. "Please don't — it's — it's mine," murmured Amy, with a face nearly as red as her fish. "Oh, really, I beg pardon; it's an uncommonly fine one, is n't it? " said Tudor, with great presence of mind, and an air of sober interest that did credit to his breeding. Amy recovered herself in a breath, set her basket boldly on the seat, and said, laughing, — " Don't you wish you were to have some of the salad he 's to make, and to see the charming young ladies who are to eat it? " Now that was tact, for two of the ruling foibles of the masculine mind were touched : the lobster was instantly surrounded by a halo of pleasing reminiscences, and curi- osity about "the charming young ladies" diverted his mind from the comical mishap. " I suppose he '11 laugh and joke over it with Laurie, but I sha'n't see them ; that 's a comfort," thought Amy, as Tudor bowed and departed. She did not mention this meeting at home (though she Artistic Attempts 329 discovered that, thanks to the upset, her new dress was much damaged by the rivulets of dressing that meandered down the skirt), but went through with the preparations, which now seemed more irksome than before ; and at twelve o'clock all was ready again. Feeling that the neighbors were interested in her movements, she wished to efface the memory of yesterday's failure by a grand success to-day ; so she ordered the " cherry-bounce," and drove away in state to meet and escort her guests to the banquet. " There 's the rumble, they 're coming ! I '11 go into the porch to meet them ; it looks hospitable; and I want the poor child to have a good time after all her trouble," said Mrs. March, suiting the action to the word. But after one glance, she retired, with an indescribable expression, for, looking quite lost in the big carriage, sat Amy and one young lady. " Run, Beth, and help Hannah clear half the things off the table ; it will be too absurd to put a luncheon for twelve before a single girl," cried Jo, hurrying away to the lower regions, too excited to stop even for a laugh. In came Amy, quite calm, and delightfully cordial to the one guest who had kept her promise ; the rest of the family, being of a dramatic turn, played their parts equally well, and Miss Eliott found them a most hilarious set ; for it was impossible to entirely control the merriment which possessed them. The remodelled lunch being gayly par- taken of, the studio and garden visited, and art discussed with enthusiasm. Amy ordered a buggy (alas for the elegant cherry-bounce !) and drove her friend quietly about the neighborhood till sunset, when " the party went out." As she came walking in, looking very tired, but as com- posed as ever, she observed that every vestige of the 3 30 Little Women unfortunate fHe had disappeared, except a suspicious pucker about the corners of Jo's mouth. " You 've had a lovely afternoon for your drive, dear," said her mother, as respectfully as if the whole twelve had come. " Miss Eliott is a very sweet girl, and seemed to enjoy herself, I thought," observed Beth, with unusual warmth. "Could you spare me some of your cake? I really need some, I have so much company, and I can't make such delicious stuff as yours," asked Meg soberly. "Take it all; I'm the only one here who likes sweet things, and it will mould before I can dispose of it," answered Amy, thinking with a sigh of the generous store she had laid in for such an end as this. " It 's a pity Laurie is n't here to help us," began Jo, as they sat down to ice-cream and salad for the second time in two days. A warning look from her mother checked any further remarks, and the whole family ate in heroic silence, till Mr. March mildly observed, " Salad was one of the favorite dishes of the ancients, and Evelyn " — here a general explosion of laughter cut short the " history of sallets," to the great surprise of the learned gentleman. " Bundle everything into a basket and send it to the Hummels : Germans like messes. I 'm sick of the sight of this ; and there 's no reason you should all die of a surfeit because I've been a fool," cried Amy, wiping her eyes. " I thought I should have died when I saw you two girls rattling about in the what-you-call-it, like two little kernels in a very big nut-shell, and mother waiting in state to receive the throng," sighed Jo, quite spent with laughter. " I 'm very sorry you were disappointed, dear, but we Literary Lessons 331 all did our best to satisfy you," said Mrs. March, in a tone full of motherly regret. " I am satisfied ; I Ve done what I undertook, and it 's not my fault that it failed ; I comfort myself with that," said Amy, with a little quiver in her voice. " I thank you all very much for helping me, and I '11 thank you still more if you won't allude to it for a month, at least." No one did for several months; but the word ''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. CHAPTER XXVII LITERARY LESSONS FORTUNE suddenly smiled upon Jo, and dropped a good-luck penny in her path. Not a golden penny, exactly, but I doubt if half a million would have given more real happiness than did the little sum that came to her in this wise. Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and " fall into a vortex," as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace. Her " scribbling suit " consisted of a black woollen pina- fore 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 inquir- ing 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 33 2 Little Women 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 fore- head, it was a sign that hard work was going on ; in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly askew; and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and cast upon the floor. At such times the intruder silently withdrew; and not until the red bow was seen gayly erect upon the gifted brow, did any one dare address Jo. She did not think herself a genius by any means ; but when the writing fit came on, she gave herself up to it with entire abandon, and led a bHssful life, unconscious of want, care, or bad weather, while she sat safe and happy in an imaginary world, full of friends almost as real and dear to her as any in the flesh. Sleep forsook her eyes, meals stood untasted, day and night were all too short to enjoy the happiness which blessed her only at such times, and made these hours worth living, even if they bore no other fruit. The divine afflatus usually lasted a week or two, and then she emerged from her " vortex," hungry, sleepy, cross, or despondent. She was just recovering from one of these attacks when she was prevailed upon to escort Miss Crocker to a lec- ture, and in return for her virtue was rewarded with a new idea. It was a People's Course, the lecture on, the Pyra- mids, and Jo rather wondered at the choice of such a subject for such an audience, but took it for granted that some great social evil would be remedied or some great want supplied by unfolding the glories of the Pharaohs to an audience whose thoughts were busy with the price of coal and flour, and whose lives were spent in trying to solve harder riddles than that of the Sphinx. They were early; and while Miss Crocker set the heel Literary Lessons 333 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 bon- nets to match, discussing Woman's Rights and making tatting. Beyond sat a pair of humble lovers, artlessly holding each other by the hand, a sombre spinster eat- ing peppermints out of a paper bag, and an old gentle- man taking his preparatory nap behind a yellow bandanna. On her right, her only neighbor was a studious-looking lad absorbed in a newspaper. It was a pictorial sheet, and Jo examined the work of art nearest her, idly wondering what unfortuitous con- catenation 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 in- furiated young gentlemen, with unnaturally small feet and big eyes, were stabbing each other close by, and a dishevelled female was flying away in the background with her mouth wide open. Pausing to turn a page, the lad saw her looking, and, with boyish good-nature, offered half his paper, saying bluntly, " Want to read it? That 's a first-rate story." Jo accepted it with a smile, for she had never outgrown her liking for lads, and soon found herself involved in the usual labyrinth of love, mystery, and murder, for the story belonged to that class of light literature in which the passions have a holiday, and when the author's in- vention fails, a grand catastrophe clears the stage of one half the dramatis personce, leaving the other half to exult over their downfall. " Prime, is n't it? " asked the boy, as her eye went down the last paragraph of her portion. " I think you and I could do as well as that if we tried," returned Jo, amused at his admiration of the trash. 334 Little Women " 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. North- bury, under the title of the tale. " Do you know her? " asked Jo, with sudden interest. " No ; but I read all her pieces, and I know a fellow who works in the office where this paper is printed." " Do you say she makes a good living out of stories like this? " and Jo looked more respectfully at the agi- tated group and thickly-sprinkled exclamation-points that adorned the page. " Guess she does ! She knows just what folks like, and gets paid well for writing it." Here the lecture began, but Jo heard very little of it, for while Prof. Sands was prosing away about Belzoni, Cheops, scarabei, and hieroglyphics, she was covertly taking down the address of the paper, and boldly resolv- ing to try for the hundred-dollar prize offered in its col- umns for a sensational story. By the time the lecture ended and the audience awoke, she had built up a splen- did fortune for herself (not the first founded upon paper), and was already deep in the concoction of her story, being unable to decide whether the duel should come before the elopement or after the murder. She said nothing of her plan at home, but fell to work next day, much to the disquiet of her mother, who always looked a little anxious when " genius took to burning." Jo had never tried this style before, contenting herself with very mild romances for the " Spread Eagle." Her theatrical experience and miscellaneous reading were of service now, for they gave her some idea of dramatic effect, and supplied plot, language, and costumes. Her story was as full of desperation and despair as her limited acquaintance with those uncomfortable emotions enabled Literary Lessons 335 her to make it, and, having located it in Lisbon, she wound up with an earthquake, as a striking and appro- priate daiouemeiiL The manuscript was privately de- spatched, accompanied by a note, modestly saying that if the tale did n't get the prize, which the writer hardly dared expect, she would be very glad to receive any sum it might be considered worth. Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to keep a secret ; but Jo did both, and was just beginning to give up all hope of ever seeing her manu- script again, when a letter arrived which almost took her breath away; for on opening it, a check for a hun- dred 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. A prouder young woman was seldom seen than she, when, having composed herself, she electrified the family by appearing before them with the letter in one hand, the check in the other, announcing that she had won the prize. Of course there was a great jubilee, and when the story came every one read and praised it ; though after her father had told her that the language was good, the romance fresh and hearty, and the tragedy quite thrilling, he shook his head, and said in his unworldly way, — " You can do better than this, Jo. Aim at the highest, and never mind the money." 33^ Little Women " / think the money is the best part of it. What will you do with such a fortune? " asked Amy, regarding the magic sHp of paper with a reverential eye. " Send Beth and mother to the seaside for a month or two," answered Jo promptly. " Oh, how splendid ! No, I can't do it, dear, it would be so selfish," cried Beth, who had clapped her thin hands, and taken a long breath, as if pining for fresh ocean-breezes ; then stopped herself, and motioned away the check which her sister waved before her. " Ah, but you shall go, I 've set my heart on it ; that 's what I tried for, and that's why I succeeded. I never get on when I think of myself alone, so it will help me to work for you, don't you see? Besides, Marmee needs the change, and she won't leave you, so you 7misi go. Won't it be fun to see you come home plump and rosy again? Hurrah for Dr. Jo, who always cures her patients ! " To the seaside they went, after much discussion ; and though Beth did n't come home as plump and rosy as could be desired, she was much better, while Mrs. March declared she felt ten years younger ; so Jo was satisfied with the investment of her prize money, and fell to work with a cheery spirit, bent on earning more of those delightful checks. She did earn several that year, and began to feel herself a power in the house ; for by the magic of a pen, her " rubbish " turned into comforts for them all. " The Duke's Daughter " paid the butcher's bill, " A Phantom Hand " put down a new carpet, and the " Curse of the Coventrys " proved the blessing of the Marches in the way of groceries and gowns. Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing, but poverty has its sunny side, and one of the sweet uses of adversity is the genuine satisfaction which comes from hearty work Literary Lessons 337 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 knowl- edge that she could supply her own wants, and need ask no one for a penny. Little notice was taken of her stories, but they found a market; and, encouraged by this fact, she resolved to make a bold stroke for fame and fortune. Having copied her novel for the fourth time, read it to all her confidential friends, and submitted it with fear and trembling to three publishers, she at last disposed of it, on condition that she would cut it down one third, and omit all the parts which she particularly admired. " Now I must either bundle it back into my tin-kitchen to mould, pay for printing it myself, or chop it up to suit purchasers, and get what I can for it. Fame is a very good thing to have in the house, but cash is more con- venient; so I wish to take the sense of the meeting on this important subject," said Jo, calling a family council. " Don't spoil your book, my girl, for there is more in it than you know, and the idea is well worked out. Let it wait and ripen," was her father's advice, and he prac- tised as he preached, having waited patiently thirty years for fruit of his own to ripen, and being in no haste to gather it, even now, when it was sweet and mellow. " It seems to me that Jo will profit more by making the trial than by waiting," said Mrs. March. " Criticism is the best test of such work, for it will show her both unsuspected merits and faults, and help her to do better next time. We are too partial ; but the praise and blame of outsiders will prove useful, even if she gets but little money." "Yes," said Jo, knitting her brows, "that's just itj 22 338 Little Women I've been fussing over the thing so long, I really don't know whether it 's good, bad, or indifferent. It will be a great help to have cool, impartial persons take a look at it, and tell me what they think of it." " I wouldn't leave out a word of it; you'll spoil it if you do, for the interest of the story is more in the minds than in the actions of the people, and it will be all a muddle if you don't explain as you go on," said Meg, who firmly believed that this book was the most re- markable novel ever written. " But Mr. Allen says, ' Leave out the explanations, make it brief and dramatic, and let the characters tell the story,' " interrupted Jo, turning to the publisher's note. " Do as he tells you ; he knows what will sell, and we don't. Make a good, popular book, and get as much money as you can. By and by, when you 've got a name, you can afford to digress, and have philosophical and metaphysical people in your novels," said Amy, who took a strictly practical view of the subject. " Well," said Jo, laughing, " if my people are ' philo- sophical and metaph3^sical,' it is n't my fault, for I know nothing about such things, except what I hear father say, sometimes. If I 've got some of his wise ideas jumbled up with my romance, so much the better for me. Now, Beth, what do you say?" " I should so like to see it printed soon," was all Beth said, and smiled in saying it; but there was an uncon- scious emphasis on the last word, and a wistful look in the eyes that never lost their childlike candor, which chilled Jo's heart, for a minute, with a foreboding fear, and decided her to make her little venture " soon." So, with Spartan firmness, the young authoress laid her first-born on hei table, and chopped it up as ruth- Literary Lessons 339 lessly as any ogre. In the hope of pleasing every one, she took every one's advice ; and, like the old man and his donkey in the fable, suited nobody. Her father liked the metaphysical streak which had unconsciously got into it; so that was allowed to re- main, though she had her doubts about it. Her mother thought that there was a trifle too much description; out, therefore, it nearly all came, and with it many necessary links in the story. Meg admired the trag- edy; so Jo piled up the agony to suit her, while Amy objected to the fun, and, with the best intentions in life, Jo quenched the sprightly scenes which relieved the sombre character of the story. Then, to complete the ruin, she cut it down one third, and confidingly sent the poor little romance, like a picked robin, out into the big, busy world, to try its fate. Well, it was printed, and she got three hundred dol- lars for it; likewise plenty of praise and blame, both so much greater than she expected that she was thrown into a state of bewilderment, from which it took her some time to recover. " You said, mother, that criticism would help me ; but how can it, when it's so contradictory that I don't know whether I 've written a promising book or broken all the ten commandments?" cried poor Jo, turning over a heap of notices, the perusal of which filled her with pride and joy one minute, wrath and dire dismay the next. " This man says ' An exquisite book, full of truth, beauty, and earnestness ; all is sweet, pure, and healthy,' " continued the perplexed authoress. "The next, 'The theory of the book is bad, full of morbid fancies, spirit- ualistic ideas, and imnatural 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 340 Little Women can be right. Another says, ' It 's one of the best Ameri can 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.' 'T is n't ! Some make fun of it, some over-praise, and nearly all insist that I had a deep theory to expound, when I only wrote it for the pleasure and the money. I wish I 'd printed it whole or not at all, for I do hate to be so misjudged." Her family and friends administered comfort and com- mendation liberally; yet it was a hard time for sensitive, high-spirited Jo, who meant so well, and had apparently done so ill. But it did her good, for those whose opinion had real value gave her the criticism which is an author's best education ; and when the first soreness was over, she could laugh at her poor little book, yet believe in it still, and feel herself the wiser and stronger for the buffeting she had received. " Not being a genius, like Keats, it won't kill me," she said stoutly ; " and I 've got the joke on my side, after all ; for the parts that were taken straight out of real life are denounced as impossible and absurd, and the scenes that I made up out of my own silly head are pronounced 'charmingly natural, tender, and true.' So I '11 comfort myself with that; and when I 'm ready, I 'II up again and take another." Domestic Experiences 341 CHAPTER XXVIII DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES LIKE most other young matrons, Meg began her married hfe with the determination to be a model housekeeper. John should find home a paradise ; he should always se^^ a smiling face, should fare sumptuously every day, and never know the loss of a button. She brought so much love, energy, and cheer- fulness to the work that she could not but succeed, in spite of some obstacles. Her paradise was not a tran- quil one ; for the little woman fussed, was over-anxious to please, and bustled about like a true Martha, cumbered with many cares. She was too tired, sometimes, even to smile ; John grew dyspeptic after a course of dainty dishes, and ungratefully demanded plain fare. As for buttons, she soon learned to wonder where they went, to shake her head over the carelessness of men, and to threaten to make him sew them on himself, and then see if his work would stand impatient tugs and clumsy fingers any better than hers. They were very happy, even after thej^ discovered that they could n't live on love alone. John did not find Meg's beauty diminished, though she beamed at him from behind the familiar coffee-pot ; nor did Meg miss any of the romance from the daily parting, when her husband followed up his kiss with the tender inquiry, "Shall I send home veal or mutton for dinner, darling? " The little house ceased to be a glorified bower, but it became a home, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change for the better. At first they played keep- house, and frolicked over it like children ; then John took 34^ Little Women steadily to business, feeling the cares of the head of a family upon his shoulders; and Meg laid by her cambric wrappers, put on a big apron, and fell to work, as before said, with more energy than discretion. While the cooking mania lasted she went through Mrs Cornelius's Receipt Book as if it were a mathematical exercise, working out the problems with patience and care. Sometimes her family were invited in to help eat up a too bounteous feast of successes, or Lotty would be privately despatched with a batch of failures, which were to be concealed from all eyes in the convenient stomachs of the little Hummels. An evening with John over the account-books usually produced a temporary lull in the culinary enthusiasm, and a frugal fit would ensue, during which the poor man was put through a course of bread- pudding, hash, and warmed-over coffee, which tried his soul, although he bore it with praiseworthy fortitude. Before the golden mean was found, however, Meg added to her domestic possessions what young couples seldom get on long without, — a family jar. Fired with a housewifely wish to see her store-room stocked with home-made preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. John was requested to order home a dozen or so of little pots, and an extra quantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe, and were to be attended to at once. As John firmly believed that " my wife " was equal to anything, and took a natural pride in her skill, he resolved that she should be gratified, and their only crop of fruit laid by in a most pleasing form for winter use. Home came four dozen delightful little pots, half a barrel of sugar, and a small boy to pick the currants for her. With her pretty hair tucked into a little cap, arms bared to the elbow, and a checked apron which had a coquettish look in spite of the bib, the young Domestic Experiences 343 housewife fell to work, feeling no doubts about her suc- cess; for had n'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 remem- ber what Hannah did that she had left undone ; she reboiled, resugared, and restrained, but that dreadful stuff wouldn't "■ jcW She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask mother to lend a hand, but John and she had agreed that they would never annoy any one with their private worries, experiments, or quarrels. They had laughed over that last word as if the idea it suggested was a most prepos- terous 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 sweet- meats all that hot summer day, and at five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvy kitchen, wrung her bedaubed hands, lifted up her voice and wept. Now, in the first flush of the new life, she had often said, — *' My husband shall always feel free to bring a friend home whenever he likes. I shall always be prepared ; there shall be no flurry, no scolding, no discomfort, but a neat house, a cheerful wife, and a good dinner. John, dear, never stop to ask my leave, invite whom you please, and be sure of a welcome from me." How charming that was, to be sure ! John quite glowed with pride to hear her say it, and felt what a blessed thing it was to have a superior wife. But, 344 Little Women 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 inevi- tability about such things which we can only wonder at, deplore, and bear as we best can. If John had not forgotten all about the jelly, it really would have been unpardonable in him to choose that day, of all the days in the year, to bring a friend home to dinner unexpectedly. Congratulating himself that a handsome repast had been ordered that morning, feeling sure that it would be ready to the minute, and indulging in pleasant anticipations of the charming effect it would produce, when his pretty wife came running out to meet him, he escorted his friend to his mansion, with the irrepressible satisfaction of a young host and husband. It is a world of disappointments, as John discovered when he reached the Dove-cote. The front door usually stood hospitably open ; now it was not only shut, but locked, and yesterday's mud still adorned the steps. The parlor-windows were closed and curtained, no picture of the pretty wife sewing on the piazza, in white, with a dis- tracting little bow in her hair, or a bright-eyed hostess, smiling a shy welcome as she greeted her guest. Nothing of the sort, for not a soul appeared, but a sanguinary- looking boy asleep under the currant-bushes. " I 'm afraid something has happened. Step into the garden, Scott, while I look up Mrs. Brooke," said John, alarmed at the silence and solitude. Round the house he hurried, led by a pungent smell of burnt sugar, and Mr. Scott strolled after him, with a queer look on his face. He paused discreetly at a dis- tance when Brooke disappeared ; but he could both see Domestic Experiences 345 and hear, and, being a bachelor, enjoyed the prospect mightily. In the kitchen reigned confusion and despair; one edition of jelly was trickled from pot to pot, another lay upon the floor, and a third was burning gayly on the stove. Lotty, with Teutonic phlegm, was calmly eating bread and currant wine, for the jelly was still in a hope- lessly liquid state, while Mrs. Brooke, with her apron over her head, sat sobbing dismally. "My dearest girl, what is the matter?" cried John, rushing in, with awful visions of scalded hands, sudden news of affliction, and secret consternation at the thought of the guest in the garden. " O John, I am so tired and hot and cross and worried ! I 've been at it till I 'm all worn out. Do come and help me or I shall die ! " and the exhausted housewife cast herself upon his breast, giving him a sweet welcome in every sense of the word, for her pinafore had been bap- tized at the same time as the floor. "What worries you, dear? Has anything dreadful happened?" asked the anxious John, tenderly kissing the crown of the little cap, which was all askew. "Yes," sobbed Meg despairingly. " Tell me quick, then. Don't cry, I can bear anything better than that. Out with it, love." "The — the jelly won't jell and I don't know what to do!" John Brooke laughed then as he never dared to laugh afterward ; and the derisive Scott smiled involuntarily as he heard the hearty peal, which put the finishing stroke to poor Meg's woe. "Is that all? Fling it out of window, and don't bother any more about it. I '11 buy you quarts if you want it; but for heaven's sake don't have hys- 34^ Little Women terics, for I 've brought Jack Scott home to dinner, and — " John got no further, for Meg cast him off, and clasped her hands with a tragic gesture as she fell into a chair, exclaiming in a tone of mingled indignation, reproach, and dismay, — " A man to dinner, and everything in a mess ! John Brooke, how could you do such a thing? " " Hush, he 's in the garden ! I forgot the confounded jelly, but it can't be helped now," said John, surveying the prospect with an anxious eye. " You ought to have sent word, or told me this morn- ing, and you ought to have remembered how busy I was," continued Meg petulantly ; for even turtle-doves will peck when ruffled. " I did n't know it this morning, and there was no time to send word, for I met him on the way out. I never thought of asking leave, when you have always told me to do as I liked. I never tried it before, and hang me if I ever do again ! " added John, with an aggrieved air. "I should hope not! Take him away at once; I can't see him, and there is n't any dinner." " Well, I like that ! Where 's the beef and vegetables I sent home, and the pudding you promised?" cried John, rushing to the larder. " I had n't time to cook anything ; I meant to dine at mother's. I 'm sorry, but I was so busy ; " and Meg's tears began again. John was a mild man, but he was human ; and after a long day's work, to come home tired, hungry, and hope- ful, 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 Domestic Experiences 347 squall would have blown over, but for one unlucky word. " It 's a scrape, I acknowledge ; but if you will lend a hand, we '11 pull through, and have a good time yet. Don't cry, dear, but just exert yourself a bit, and knock us up something to eat. We're both as hungry as hunters, so we sha'n't mind what it is. Give us the cold meat, and bread and cheese; we won't ask for jelly." He meant it for a good-natured joke ; but that one word sealed his fate. Meg thought it was too cruel to hint about her sad failure, and the last atom of patience vanished as he spoke. " You must get yourself out of the scrape as you can ; I 'm too used up to * exert ' myself for any one. It 's like a man to propose a bone and vulgar bread and cheese for company. I won't have anything of the sort in my house. Take that Scott up to mother's, and tell him I 'm away, sick, dead, — anything. I won't see him, and you two can laugh at me and my jelly as much as you like : you won't have anything else here ; " and having delivered her defiance all in one breath, Meg cast away her pinafore, and precipitately left the field to bemoan herself in her own room. What those two creatures did in her absence, she never knew ; but Mr. Scott was not taken " up to mother's," and when Meg descended, after they had strolled away together, she found traces of a promis- cuous lunch which filled her with horror. Lotty re- ported that they had eaten " a much, and greatly laughed, and the master bid her throw away all the sweet stuff, and hide the pots." Meg longed to go and tell mother ; but a sense of shame at her own shortcomings, of loyalty to John, 348 Little Women "who might be cruel, but nobody should know it," restrained her; and after a summary clearing up, she dressed herself prettily, and sat down to wait for John to come and be forgiven. Unfortunately, John did n't come, not seeing the mat- ter 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 en- joyed the impromptu dinner, and promised to come again. But John was angry, though he did not show it; he felt that Meg had got him into a scrape, and then deserted him in his hour of need. " It was n't fair to tell a man to bring folks home any time, with perfect freedom, and when he took you at your word, to flame up and blame him, and leave him in the lurch, to be laughed at or pitied. No, by George, it wasn't! and Meg must know it." He had fumed inwardly during the feast, but when the flurry was over, and he strolled home, after seeing Scott off, a milder mood came over him. " Poor little thing ! it was hard upon her when she tried so heartily to please me. She was wrong, of course, but then she was young. I must be patient and teach her." He hoped she had not gone home — he hated gossip and interference. For a minute he was ruffled again at the mere thought of it ; and then the fear that Meg would cry herself sick softened his heart, and sent him on at a quicker pace, resolving to be calm and kind, but firm, quite firm, and show her where she had failed in her duty to her spouse. Meg likewise resolved to be " calm and kind, but firm," and show him his duty. She longed to run to meet him, and beg pardon, and be kissed and com- forted, as she was sure of being; but, of course, she did nothing of the sort, and when she saw John com- Domestic Experiences 349 ing, began to hum quite naturally, as she rocked and sewed, like a lady of leisure in her best parlor. John was a little disappointed not to find a tender Niobe; but, feeling that his dignity demanded the first apology, he made none, only came leisurely in, and laid himself upon the sofa, with the singularly relevant remark, — " We are going to have a new moon, my dear." " I 've no objection," was Meg's equally soothing remark. A few other topics of general interest were introduced by Mr. Brooke, and wet-blanketed by Mrs. Brooke, and conversation languished. John went to one window, un- folded his paper, and wrapped himself in it, figuratively speaking. Meg went to the other window, and sewed as if new rosettes for her slippers were among the necessa- ries of life. Neither spoke ; both looked quite " calm and firm," and both felt desperately uncomfortable. " Oh dear," thought Meg, " married life is very trying, and does need infinite patience, as well as love, as mother says." The word " mother " suggested other maternal counsels, given long ago, and received with unbelieving protests. "John is a good man, but he has his faults, and you must learn to see and bear with them, remembering your own. He is very decided, but never will be obstinate, if you reason kindly, not oppose impatiently. He is very accurate, and particular about the truth — a good trait, though you call him ' fussy.' Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a temper, not like ours, — one flash, and then all over, — but the white, still anger, that is seldom stirred, but once kin- dled, is hard to quench. Be careful, very careful, not to 350 Little Women wake this anger against yourself, for peace and happi- ness depend on keeping his respect. Watch yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave the way for bitter sorrow and regret." These words came back to Meg, as she sat sewing in the sunset, especially the last. This was the first serious disagreement ; her own hasty speeches sounded both silly and unkind, as she recalled them, her own anger looked childish now, and thoughts of poor John coming home to such a scene quite melted her heart. She glanced at him with tears in her eyes, but he did not see them ; she put down her work and got up, thinking, " I will be the first to say, ' Forgive me,' " but he did not seem to hear her ; she went very slowly across the room, for pride was hard to swallow, and stood by him, but he did not turn his head. For a minute she felt as if she really could n't do it; then came the thought, " This is the beginning, I '11 do my part, and have nothing to reproach myself with," and stooping down, she softly kissed her husband on the forehead. Of course that settled it; the penitent kiss was better than a world of words, and John had her on his knee in a minute, saying tenderly, — " It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly-pots. Forgive me, dear, I never will again ! " But he did, oh bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made ; for family peace was preserved in that little family jar. After this, Meg had Mr. Scott to dinner by special invitation, and served him up a pleasant feast without a cooked wife for the first course ; on which occasion she was so gay and gracious, and made everything go Domestic Experiences 351 eff so charmingly, that Mr. Scott told John he was a happy fellow, and shook his head over the hardships of bachelorhood all the way home. In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat renewed her friendship, was always running out for a dish of gossip at the little house, or inviting " that poor dear " to come in and spend the day at the big house. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often felt lonely; all were busy at home, John absent till night, and nothing to do but sew, or read, or potter about. So it naturally fell out that Meg got into the way of gadding and gossiping with her friend. Seeing Sallie's pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because she had not got them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the coveted trifles ; but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn't like it ; and then this foolish little woman went and did what John disliked Infinitely worse. She knew her husband's income, and she loved to feel that he trusted her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to value more, — his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she liked, and all he asked was that she should keep ac- count 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 need n't think she had 35 2 Little Women to economize. She always felt wicked after it, for the pretty things were seldom necessaries; but then they cost so little, it wasn't worth worrying about; so the trifles increased unconsciously, and in the shopping excursions she was no longer a passive looker-on. But the trifles cost more than one would imagine; and when she cast up her accounts at the end of the month, the sum total rather scared her. John was busy that month, and left the bills to her; the next month he was absent; but the third he had a grand quarterly settling up, and Meg never forgot it. A few days before she had done a dreadful thing, and it weighed upon her conscience. Sallie had been buy- ing silks, and Meg longed for a new one, — just a handsome light one for parties, her black silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five dollars apiece at New Year; that was only a month to wait, and here was a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers; but would he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but another five- and-twenty out of the household fund ? That was the question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had off"ered to loan the money, and with the best intentions in life, had tempted Meg beyond her strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said, " A bargain, I assure you, ma'am." She answered, "I'll take it;" and it was cut ofl" 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. Domestic Experiences 353 When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by spreading forth the lovely silk; but it looked less silvery now, did n'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 shoul' 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 did n't mean to let her know it. The house-bills were all paid, the books all in order. John had praised her, and was undoing the old pocket-book which they called the "bank," when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously, — "You have n't seen my private expense book yet." John never asked to see it ; but she always insisted on his doing so, and used to enjoy his masculine amaze- ment at the queer things women wanted, and made him guess what "piping" was, demand fiercely the mean- ing of a " hug-me-tight," or wonder how a little thing composed of three rosebuds, a bit of velvet, and a pair o-f strings, could possibly be a bonnet, and cost five or six dollars. That night he looked as if he would like the fun of quizzing her figures and pretending to be horrified at her extravagance, as he often did, being particularly proud of his prudent wife. The little book was brought slowly out, and laid down before him. Meg got behind his chair under pretence of smoothing the wrinkles out of his tired forehead, and standing there, she said, with her panic increasing with every word, — 23 3 54 Little Women " John, dear, I 'm ashamed to show you my book, for I 've really been dreadfully extravagant lately. I go about so much I must have things, you know, and Sallie advised my getting it, so I did ; and my New-Year's money will partly pay for it : but I was sorry after I 'd done it, for I knew you 'd think it wrong in me." John laughed and drew her round beside him, say- ing good-humoredly, " Don't go and hide. I won't beat you if you have got a pair of killing boots; I'm rather proud of my wife's feet, and don't mind if she does pay eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones." That had been one of her last " trifles," and John's eye had fallen on it as he spoke. " Oh, what will he say when he comes to that awful fifty dollars ! " thought Meg, with a shiver. " It 's worse than boots, it 's a silk dress," she said, with the calmness of desperation, for she wanted the worst over, " Well, dear, what is the ' dem'd total,' as Mr. Man- talini says? " That did n't sound like John, and she knew he was looking up at her with the straightforward look that she had always been ready to meet and answer with one as frank till now. She turned the page and her head at the same time, pointing to the sum which would have been bad enough without the fifty, but which was appalling to her with that added. For a minute the room was very still ; then John said slowly, — but she could feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure, — " Well, I don't know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the furbelows and notions you have to have to finish it off these days." Domestic Experiences 355 "It isn't made or trimmed," sighed Meg faintly, for a sudden recollection of the cost still to be incurred quite overwhelmed her. " Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I 've no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat's when she gets it on," said John dryly. " I know you are angry, John, but I can't help it. I don't mean to waste your money, and I did n't think those little things would count up so. I can't resist them when I see Sallie buying all she wants, and pitying me because I don't. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I 'm tired of being poor." The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but he did, and they wounded him deeply, for he had denied himself many pleasures for Meg's sake. She could have bitten her tongue out the minute she had said it, for John pushed the books away, and got up, saying, with a little quiver in his voice, " I was afraid of this ; I do my best, Meg." If he had scolded her, or even shaken her, it would not have broken her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears, " O John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy, I did n't mean it ! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful, how could I say it! Oh, how could I say it ! " He was very kind, forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach ; but Meg knew that she had done and said a thing which would not be forgotten soon, although he might never allude to it again. She had promised to love him for better for worse ; and then she, his wife, had reproached him with his poverty, after spending his earnings recklessly. It was dreadful; and 35^ Little Women the worst of it was John went on so quietly afterward, just as if nothing had happened, except that he stayed in town later, and worked at night when she had gone to cry herself to sleep. A week of remorse nearly made Meg sick; and the discovery that John had countermanded the order for his new great-coat re- duced her to a state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He had simply said, in answer to her sur- prised inquiries as to the change, " I can't afford it, my dear." Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall, with her face buried in the old great- coat, crying as if her heart would break. They had a long talk that night, and Meg learned to love her husband better for his poverty, because it seemed to have made a man of him, given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him a tender patience with which to bear and comfort the natural longings and failures of those he loved. Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good-natured Mrs. Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the great-coat, and, when John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his pres- ent, and what a blissful state of things ensued. John came home early, Meg gadded no more; and that great-coat was put on in the morning by a very happy husband, and taken off at night by a most devoted little wife. So the year rolled round, and at midsummer there came to Meg a new experience, — the deepest and tendercst of a woman's life. Domestic Experiences 357 Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dove- cote, one Saturday, with an excited face, and was re- ceived with the clash of cymbals ; for Hannah clapped her hands with a saucepan in one and the cover in the other. "How's the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why did n't you tell me before I came home ? " began Laurie, in a loud whisper. " Happy as a queen, the dear ! Every soul of 'em is upstairs a worshipin' ; we did n't want no hurrycanes round. Now you go into the parlor, and I '11 send 'em down to you," with which somewhat involved reply Hannah vanished, chuckling ecstatically. Presently Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle laid forth upon a large pillow. Jo's face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion of some sort. " Shut your eyes and hold out your arms," she said invitingly. Laurie backed precipitately into a corner, and put his hands behind him with an imploring gesture : " No, thank you, I 'd rather not. I shall drop it or smash it, as sure as fate." " Then you sha'n't see your nevvy," said Jo decidedly, turning as if to go. " I will, I will ! only you must be responsible for dam- ages; " 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 him- self invested with two babies instead of one. No wonder they laughed, for the expression of his face was droll enough to convulse a Quaker, as he stood and 358 Little Women stared wildly from the unconscious innocents to the hila- rious spectators, with such dismay that Jo sat down on the floor and screamed. "Twins, by Jupiter!" was all he said for a minute; then, turning to the women with an appealing look that was comically piteous, he added, " Take 'em quick, some- body ! I 'm going to laugh, and I shall drop 'em." John rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each arm, as if already initiated into the mysteries of baby-tending, while Laurie laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. " It 's the best joke of the season, is n't it? I would n't have you told, for I set my heart on surprising you, and I flatter myself I 've done it," said Jo, when she got her breath. " I never was more staggered in my life. Is n'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, re- garding the infants with the air of a big, benevolent Newfoundland looking at a pair of infantile kittens. "Boy and girl. Aren't they beauties? " said the proud papa, beaming upon the little, red squirmers as if they were unfledged angels. " Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?" and Laurie bent like a well-sweep to examine the prodigies. " Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one brown. Kiss them. Uncle Teddy," said wicked Jo. " I 'm afraid they might n't like it," began Laurie, with unusual timidity in such matters. " Of course they will ; they arc used to it now. Do Calls 359 it this minute, sir ! " commanded Jo, fearing he might propose a proxy. Laurie screwed up his face, and obeyed with a gin- gerly peck at each little cheek that produced another laugh, and made the babies squeal. " There, I knew they did n'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 in to a man of your own size, will you?" cried Laurie, delighted with a poke in the face from a tiny fist, flapping aimlessly about. " He 's to be named John Laurence, and the girl Mar- garet, after mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisy, so as not to have two Megs, and I suppose the mannie will be Jack, unless we find a better name," said Amy, with aunt-like interest. " Name him Demijohn, and call him 'Demi ' for short," said Laurie. " Daisy and Demi, — just the thing! I knew Teddy would do it," cried Jo, clapping her hands. Teddy certainly had done it that time, for the babies were " Daisy" and " Demi " to the end of the chapter. CHAPTER XXIX CALLS " ^^OME, Jo, it 's time." I "For what?" ^k^^ " You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me to-day?" " I Ve done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say 360 Little Women I 'd make six calls in one day, when a single one upsets me for a week." " Yes, you did ; it was a bargain between us. I was to finish the crayon of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me, and return our neighbors' visits." " If it was fair — that was in the bond ; and I stand to the letter of my bond, Shylock. There is a pile of clouds in the east ; it 's not fair, and I don't go." " Now, that 's shirking. It 's a lovely day, no pros- pect of rain, and you pride yourself on keeping prom- ises ; so be honorable ; come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months." At that minute Jo was particularly absorbed in dress- making; for she was mantua-maker general to the fam- ily, and took especial credit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen. It was very pro- voking 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 es- cape ; and having clashed her scissors rebelliously, while protesting that she smelt thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready. " Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint ! You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveying her with amazement. "Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable; quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day. If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them. You can dress for both, and be as elegant as you please : it pays for you to be fine; it does n't for me, and furbelows only worry me." Calls 361 ** 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 for me to go to-day, but it 's a debt we owe society, and there 's nc one to pay it but you and me. I '11 do anything for you, Jo, if you '11 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 beauti- fully, if you try, that I 'm proud of you. I 'm afraid to go alone ; do come and take care of me." " You 're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle your cross old sister in that way. The idea of my being aristocratic and well-bred, and your being afraid to go anywhere alone ! I don't know which is the most absurd. Well, I '11 go if I must, and do my best. You shall be commander of the expedition, and I '11 obey blindly ; will that satisfy you ? " said Jo, with a sudden change from perversity to lamb-like submission. " You 're a perfect cherub ! Now put on all your best things, and I '11 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 handker- chief. We '11 stop at Meg's, and' borrow her white sun- shade, and then you can have my dove-colored one." While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyed them ; not without entering her protest, how- ever, 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 gen- 362 Little Women erally as she shook out the handkerchief, whose em- broidery was as irritating to her nose as the present mission was to her feelings ; and when she had squeezed her hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of countenance, saying meekly, — " I 'm perfectly miserable ; but if you consider me presentable, I die happy." " You are highly satisfactory; turn slowly round, and let me get a careful view." Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously, " Yes, you '11 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 is n't." " You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever," said Jo, looking through her hand with the air of a connois- seur at the blue feather against the gold hair. " Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it up, please, ma'am? " " Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house ; the sweeping style suits you best, and you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. You have n't half buttoned one cufif; do it at once. You '11 never look finished if you are not careful about the little details, for they make up the pleasing whole." Calls 363 Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove, in doing up her cuff; but at last both were ready, and sailed away, looking as " pretty as picters," Hannah said, as she hung out of the upper window to watch them. " Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't make any of your abrupt remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and quiet, — that's safe and ladylike; and you can easily do it for fifteen minutes," said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg, with a baby on each arm. "Let me see. 'Calm, cool, and quiet,' — yes, I think I can promise that. I 've played the part of a prim young lady on the stage, and I '11 try it off. My powers are great, as you shall see ; so be easy in your mind, my child." Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word ; for, during the first call, she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snow-bank, and as silent as a sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chester alluded to her " charming novel," and the Misses Chester introduced parties, pic- nics, the opera, and the fashions ; each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a demure " Yes " or " No," with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the word " Talk," tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with her foot. Jo sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment like Maud's face, " icily regular, splendidly null." "What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is ! " was the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, as the door closed upon their 3^4 Little Women guests. Jo laughed noiselessly all through the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions, and very naturally laid the blame upon Jo. "How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock and stone. Try to be sociable at the Lambs,' gossip as other girls do, and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up. They move in the best society, are valuable persons for us to know, and I would n't fail to make a good impression there for anything." " I '11 be agreeable ; I '11 gossip and giggle, and have horrors and raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I '11 imitate what is called ' a charm- ing girl ; ' I can do it, for I have May Chester as a model, and I '11 improve upon her. See if the Lambs don't say, ' What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!'" Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakish there was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was a study when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing-room, kiss all the young ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentlemen, and join in . the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder. Amy was taken possession of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia's last attack, while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as .volubly as the old lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hear what was going on; for broken sentences filled her with alarm, Calls 365 round eyes and uplifted hands tormented her with curi- osity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. One may imagine her suffering on over- hearing fragments of this sort of conversation : — " She rides splendidly, — who taught her? " "No one; she used to practise mounting, holding the reins, and sitting straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she does n't know what fear is, and the stable-man lets her have horses cheap, be- cause she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails she can be a horse-breaker, and get her living so." At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her especial aversion. But what could she do ? for the old lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done Jo was off again, making more droll revelations, and committing still more fearful blunders. " Yes, Amy Vv'as 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 anim,al for a pleasure party, was n't it? " " Which did she choose? " asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who enjoyed the subject. " None of them ; she heard of a young horse at the farmhouse over the river, and, though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try, because he was hand- some 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, 366 Little Women and marched up to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man ! " " Did she ride the horse? " " Of course she did, and had a capital time. I ex- pected to see her brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, and was the life of the party." " Well, I call that plucky ! " and young Mr. Lamb turned an approving glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the girl look so red and uncomfortable. She was still redder and more uncomfortable a mo- ment 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." " Is n't that an original idea? " cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun. " That 's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There 's nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest shade of sky-blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin," added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her card-case at her. " We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much," observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady, who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed. Calls 367 Any mention of her " works " always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a brusque remark, as now. " Sorry you could find nothing better to read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you going to New York this winter? " As Miss Lamb had " enjoyed " the story, this speech was not exactly grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw her mistake ; but, fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half- finished sentences in their mouths. " Amy, we must go. Good-hy, dear ; do come and see us ; we are pining for a visit. I don't dare to ask yoUy Mr. Lamb ; but if you should come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away." Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Ches- ter'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. " Did n't I do that well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air, as they walked away. " Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crush- ing reply. " What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and the hats and boots, and all the rest of it?" " Why, it 's funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor, so it 's no use pretending that we have grooms, buy three or four hats a season, and have things as easy and fine as they do." " You need n't go and tell them all our little shifts, and expose our poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You have n't a bit of proper pride, and never will 368 Little Women learn when to hold your tongue and when to speak," said Amy despairingly. Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with the stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors. " How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached the third mansion. " Just as you please ; I wash my hands of you," was Amy's short answer. " Then I '11 enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we '11 have a comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance has a bad effect upon my constitution," returned Jo gruffly, being disturbed by her failures to suit. An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children speedily soothed her ruffled feelings ; and, leaving Amy to entertain the hostess ajid 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 mur- mur, 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. 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 Calls 369 and breeding, she possessed that reverence for titles which haunts the best of us, — that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sun in a ferment at the coming of a royal yellow-haired laddie, some years ago, and which still has something to do with the love the young country bears the old, like that of a big son for an imperious little mother, who held him while she could, and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled. But even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time ; and when the proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society, and looked about for Jo, fer- vently hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March. 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 dam- aged property to go, her escort accompanied her, beg- ging her to come again, " it was such fun to hear about Laurie's larks." " Capital boys, are n't they? I feel quite young and brisk again after that," said Jo, strolling along with her hands behind her, partly from habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol. "Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor? " asked Amy, 24 3 JO Little Women wisely refraining from any comment upon Jo's dilapi- dated appearance. "Don't like him; he puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worries his father, and does n't speak respectfully of his mother. Laurie says he is fast, and / don't con- sider him a desirable acquaintance ; so I let him alone." " You might treat him civilly, at least. You gave him a cool nod ; and just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way to Tommy Chamberlain, whose father keeps a grocery store. If you had just reversed the nod and the bow, it would have been right," said Amy reprovingly. " No, it would n't," returned perverse Jo ; "I neither like, respect, nor admire Tudor, though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece was third cousin to a lord. Tommy is poor and bashful and good and very clever ; I think well of him, and like to show that I do, for he is a gentleman in spite of the brown-paper parcels." " It's no use trying to argue with you," began Amy. ** Not the least, my dear," interrupted Jo ; " so let us look amiable, and drop a card here, as the Kings are evidently out, for which I 'm deeply grateful." The family card-case having done its duty, the girls walked on, and Jo uttered another thanksgiving on reaching the fifth house, and being told that the young ladies were engaged. " Now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March to-day. We can run down there any time, and it 's really a pity to trail through the dust in our best bibs and tuckers, when we are tired and cross." " Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt likes to have us pay her the compliment of coming in style, and making a formal call ; it 's a little thing to do, but it Calls 371 gives her pleasure, and I don't believe it will hurt your things half so much as letting dirty dogs and clumping boys spoil them. Stoop down, and let me take the crumbs off of your bonnet." " What a good girl you are. Amy ! " said Jo, with a repentant glance from her own damaged costume to that of her sister, which was fresh and spotless still. " I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to please people as it is for you. I think of them, but it takes too much time to do them ; so I wait for a chance to confer a great favor, and let the small ones slip ; but they tell best in the end, I fancy." Amy smiled, and was mollified at once, saying with a maternal air, — " Women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones ; for they have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive. If you 'd remember that, and practise it, you 'd be better liked than I am, because there is more of you." " I 'm a crotchety old thing, and always shall be, but I'm willing to own that you are right; only it's easier for me to risk my life for a person than to be pleasant to him when I don't feel like it. It's a great misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, is n't it?" " It 's a greater not to be able to hide them. I don't mind saying that I don't approve of Tudor any more than you do ; but I 'm not called upon to tell him so ; neither are you, and there is no use in making yourself disagreeable because he is." " But I think girls ought to show when they disap- prove of young men ; and how can they do it except by their manners? Preaching does not do any good, as I know to my sorrow, since I 've had Teddy to manage ; but there are many little ways in which I can influence Zl'^ Little Women him without a word, and I say we ought to do it to others if we can." *' Teddy is a remarkable boy, and can't be taken as a sample of other boys," said Amy, in a tone of solemn conviction, which would have convulsed the " remarkable boy," if he had heard it. " If we were belles, or women of wealth and position, we might do something, perhaps ; but for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don't approve of them, and smile upon another set because we do, would n't have a particle of effect, and we should only be considered odd and puritanical." " So we are to countenance things and people which we detest, merely because we are not belles and mil- lionaires, are we? That's a nice sort of morality." " I can't argue aj^out 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 re- formers, and I hope you will never try to be one." " I do like them, and I shall be one if I can ; for, in spite of the laughing, the world would never get on without them. We can't agree about that, for you belong to the old set, and I to the new : }-ou will get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it. I should rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think," " Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry aunt with your new ideas." " I '11 try not to, but I 'm always possessed to burst out with some particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment before her ; it 's my doom, and I can't help it." They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed in gome 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 CalL 373 nieces, Jo was not in a good humor, and the perverse fit returned ; but Amy, who had virtuously done hef duty, kept her temper, and pleased everybody, was in a most angelic frame of mind. This amiable spirit was felt at once, and both the aunts " my deared " her affectionately, looking what they afterwards said emphatically, — "That child improves every day." " Are you going to help about the fair, dear? " asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy sat down beside her with the con- fiding air elderly people like so well in the young. "Yes, aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give." " I 'm not," put in Jo decidedly. " I hate to be patronized, and the Chesters think it 's a great favor to allow us to help with their highly connected fair. I wonder you consented. Amy : they only want you to work." " I am willing to work : it 's for the freedmen as well as the Chesters, and I think it very kind of tjiem to let me share the labor and the fun. Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant." " Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear; it 's a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts : some do not, and that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression. If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one of them, she would have turned dovelike in a minute ; but, unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts, and cannot see what goes on in the minds of our friends ; better for us that we cannot as a general thing, but now and then it would 374 Little Women be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper. By her next speech, Jo deprived herself of several years of pleasure, and received a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue. " I don't like favors ; they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I 'd rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent." " Ahem ! " coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March. " I told you so," said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol. Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose in the air, and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting. "Do you speak French, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, laying her hand on Amy's. " Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk to me as often as I like," replied Amy, with a grate- ful look, which caused the old lady to smile affably. " How are you about languages?" asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo. " Don't know a word ; I 'm very stupid about study- ing anything ; can't bear French, it 's such a slippery, silly sort of language," was the briisqice reply. Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy, " You are quite strong and well, now, dear, I believe? Eyes don't trouble you any more, do they?" " Not at all, thank you, ma'am. I 'm very well, and mean to do great things next winter, so that I may be ready for Rome, whenever that joyful time arrives." " Good girl ! You deserve to go, and I 'm sure you will some day," said Aunt March, with an approving pat on the head, as Amy picked up her ball for her. Consequences 375 " Cross-patch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin," squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of her chair to peep into Jo's face, with such a comical air of impertinent inquiry that it was impossible to help laughing. " Most observing bird," said the old lady. ** Come and take a walk, my dear? " cried Polly, hop- ping toward the china-closet, with a look suggestive of lump-sugar. "Thank you, I will. Come, Amy; " and Jo brought the visit to an end, feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a bad effect upon her constitution. She shook hands in a gentlemanly manner, but Amy kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed, leaving behind them the impression of shadow and sunshine ; which impression caused Aunt March to say, as they van- ished, — "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." CHAPTER XXX CONSEQUENCES MRS. CHESTER'S fair was so very elegant and select that it was considered a great honor by the young ladies of the neighbor- hood to be invited to take a table, and every one was much interested in the matter. Amy was asked, but Jo was not, which was fortunate for all parties, as her Zl^ Little Women elbows were decidedly akimbo at this period of her life, iind it took a good many hard knocks to teach her how to get on easily. The " haughty, uninteresting creature" was let severely alone ; but Amy's talent and taste were duly complimented by the offer of the art-table, and she exerted herself to prepare and secure appropriate and valuable contributions to it. Everything went on smoothly till the day before the fair opened ; then there occurred one of the little skir- mishes which it is almost impossible to avoid, when some five and twenty women, old and young, with all their private piques and prejudices, try to work together. May Chester was rather jealous of Amy because the latter was a greater favorite than herself; and, just at this time, several trifling circumstances occurred to increase the feeling. Amy's dainty pen-and-ink work entirely eclipsed May's painted vases, — that was one thorn ; then the all-conquering Tudor had danced four times with Amy, at a late party, and only once with May, — that was thorn number two ; but the chief griev- ance that rankled in her soul, and gave her an excuse for her unfriendly conduct, was a rumor which some obliging gossip had whispered to her, that the March girls had made fun of her at the Lambs'. All the blame of this should have fallen upon Jo, for her naughty imita- tion 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, — Consequences 377 " I find, dear, that there is some feeling among the young ladies about my giving this table to any one but my girls. As this is the most prominent, and some say the most attractive table of all, and they are the chief getters-up of the fair, it is thought best for them to take this place. I 'm sorry, but I know you are too sin- cerely interested in the cause to mind a little personal disappointment, and you shall have another table if you like." Mrs. Chester had fancied beforehand that it would be easy to deliver this little speech; but when the time came, she found it rather difficult to utter it naturally, with Amy's unsuspicious eyes looking straight at her, full of surprise and trouble. Amy felt that there was something behind this, but could not guess what, and said quietly, feeling hurt, and showing that she did, — " Perhaps you had rather I took no table at all? " " Now, my dear, don't have any ill feeling, I beg ; it 's merely a matter of expediency, you see ; my girls will naturally take the lead, and this table is considered their proper place. / 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. Would n't you like the flower-table? The little girls undertook it, but they are discouraged. You could make a charming thing of it, and the flower-table is always attractive, you know." " Especially to gentlemen," added May, with a look which enlightened Amy as to one cause of her sudden fall from favor. She colored angrily, but took no other notice of that girlish sarcasm, and answered, with unex- pected amiability, — 378 Little Women " It shall be as you please, Mrs. Chester. I '11 give up my place here at once, and attend to the flowers, if you like." " You can put your own things on your own table, if you prefer," began May, feeling a little conscience- stricken, as she looked at the pretty racks, the painted shells, and quaint illuminations Amy had so carefully made and so gracefully arranged. She meant it kindly, but Amy mistook her meaning, and said quickly, — " Oh, certainly, if they are in your way ; " and sweep- ing her contributions into her apron, pell-mell, she walked off, feeling that herself and her works of art had been insulted past forgiveness. " Now she 's mad. Oh, dear, I wish I had n't asked you to speak, mamma," said May, looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table. " Girls' quarrels are soon over," returned her mother, feeling a trifle ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might. The little girls hailed Amy and her treasures with delight, which cordial reception somewhat soothed her perturbed spirit, and she fell to work, determined to succeed florally, if she could not artistically. But every- thing seemed against her: it was late, and she was tired ; every one was too busy with their own affairs to help her ; and the little girls were only hindrances, for the dears fussed and chattered like so many magpies, mak- ing a great deal of confusion in their artless efforts to preserve the most perfect order. The evergreen arch would n't stay firm after she got it up, but wiggled and threatened to tumble down on her head when the hang- ing 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 Consequences 379 working in a draught, which last affliction filled her with apprehensions for the morrow. Any girl-reader who has suffered like afflictions will sympathize with poor Amy, and wish her well through with her task. There was great indignation at home when she told her story that evening. Her mother said it was a shame, but told her she had done right ; Beth declared she wouldn't go to the fair at all; and Jo demanded why she did n't take all her pretty things and leave those mean people to get on without her. " Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things, and though I think I 've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won't they, Marmee? " " That's the right spirit, my dear; a kiss for a blow is always best, though it 's not very easy to give it some- times," said her mother, with the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and practising. In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate. Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day, bent on conquering her enemy by kindness. She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that came to her unexpectedly, but most opportunely. As she arranged her table that morning, while the little girls were in an ante-room filling the baskets, she took up her pet production, — a little book, the antique cover of which her father had found among his treasures, and in which, on leaves of vellum, she had beautifully illumi- nated different texts. As she turned the pages, rich in dainty devices, with very pardonable pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think. Framed in a brilliant scroll-work of scarlet, blue, and gold, with little spirits of good-will helping one another up and 38o Little Women down among the thorns and flowers, were the words, " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." " I ought, but I don't," thought Amy, as her eye went from the bright page to May's discontented face behind the big vases, that could not hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a minute, turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet rebuke for all heart-burnings and uncharitableness of spirit. Many wise and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street, school, office, or home ; even a fair-table may become a pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season. Amy's conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and there ; and she did what many of us do not always do, — took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice. A group of girls were standing about May's table, admiring the pretty things, and talking over the change of saleswomen. They dropped their voices, but Amy knew they were speaking of her, hearing one side of the story, and judging accordingly. It was not pleasant, but a better spirit had come over her, and presently a chance offered for proving it. She heard May say sor- rowfully, — " It's too bad, for there is no time to make other things, and I don't want to fill up with odds and ends. The table was just complete then : now it 's spoilt." " I dare say she 'd put them back if you asked her," suggested some one. " How could I after all the fuss?" began May, but she did not finish, for Amy's voice came across the hall, saying pleasantly, — " You may have them, and welcome, without asking, if you want them. I was just thinking I 'd offer to put Consequences 381 them back, for they belong to your table rather than mine. Here they are ; please take them, and forgive me if I was hasty in carrying them away last night." As she spoke, Amy returned her contribution, with a nod and a smile, and hurried away again, feeling that it was easier to do a friendly thing than it was to stay and be thanked for it. " Now, I call that lovely of her, don't you? " cried one girl- May's answer was inaudible ; but another young lady, whose temper was evidently a little soured by making lemonade, added, with a disagreeable laugh, " Very lovely ; for she knew she would n't sell them at her own table." Now, that was hard ; when we make little sacrifices we like to have them appreciated, at least; and for a minute Amy was sorry she had done it, feeling that vir- tue was not always its own reward. But it is, — as she presently discovered ; for her spirits began to rise, and her table to blossom under her skilful hands ; the girls were very kind, and that one little act seemed to have cleared the atmosphere amazingly. It was a very long day, and a hard one to Amy, as she sat behind her table, often quite alone, for the little girls deserted very soon : few cared to buy flowers in summer, and her bouquets began to droop long before night. The art-table was the most attractive in the room; there was a crowd about it all day long, and the tenders were constantly flying to and fro with important faces and rattling money-boxes. Amy often looked wistfully across, longing to be there, where she felt at home and happy, instead of in a corner with nothing to do. It might seem no hardship to some of us ; but to a pretty, 382 Little Women blithe young girl, it was not only tedious, but very try- ing; and the thought of being found there in the even- ing by her family, and Laurie and his friends, made it a real martyrdom. She did not go home till night, and then she looked so pale and quiet that they knew the day had been a hard one, though she made no complaint, and did not even tell what she had done. Her mother gave her an extra cordial cup of tea, Beth helped her dress, and made a charming little wreath for her hair, while Jo as- tonished her family by getting herself up with unusual care, and hinting darkly that the tables were about to be turned. " Don't do anything rude, pray, Jo. I won't have any fuss made, so let it all pass, and behave yourself," begged Amy, as she departed early, hoping to find a reinforcement of flowers to refresh her poor little table. " I merely intend to make myself entrancingly agree- able 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 '11 have a good time yet," returned Jo, leaning over the gate to watch for Laurie. Pres- ently the familiar tramp was heard in the dusk, and she ran out to meet him. " Is that my boy?" " As sure as this is my girl ! " and Laurie tucked her hand under his arm, with the air of a man whose every wish was gratified. " O Teddy, such doings ! " and Jo told Amy's wrongs with sisterly zeal. " A flock of our fellows are going to drive over by and by, and I '11 be hanged if I don't make them buy every flower she 's got, and camp down before her table Consequences 383 afterward," said Laurie, espousing her cause with warmth. '• The flowers are not at all nice, Amy says, and the fresh ones may not arrive in time. I don't wish to be unjust or suspicious, but I should n't wonder if they never came at all. When people do one mean thing they are very likely to do another," observed Jo, in a disgusted tone. " Didn't Hayes give you the best out of our gardens? I told him to." " I did n't know that ; he forgot, I suppose ; and, as your grandpa was poorly, I did n't like to worry him by asking, though I did want some." " Now, Jo, how could you think there was any need of asking ! They are just as much yours as mine. Don't we always go halves in everything? " began Laurie, in the tone that always made Jo turn thorny. " Gracious, I hope not! half of some of your things would n't suit me at all. But we must n't stand philan- dering here ; I 've got to help Amy, so you go and make yourself splendid ; and if you '11 be so very kind as to let Hayes take a few nice flowers up to the Hall, I '11 bless you forever." " Could n't you do it now? " asked Laurie, so sugges- tively that Jo shut the gate in his face with inhospitable haste, and called through the bars, " Go away, Teddy; I 'm busy." Thanks to the conspirators, the tables were turned that night; for Hayes sent up a wilderness of flowers, with a lovely basket, arranged in his best manner, for a centre- piece ; then the March family turned out en masse, and Jo exerted herself to some purpose, for people not only came, but stayed, laughing at her nonsense, admiring Amy's taste, and apparently enjoying themselves very 384 Little Women much. Laurie and his friends gallantly threw themselves into the breach, bought up the bouquets, encamped before the table, and made that corner the liveliest spot in the room. Amy was in her element now, and, out of gratitude, if nothing more, was as sprightly and gracious as possible, — coming to the conclusion, about that time, that virtue was its own reward, after ail. 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 oi 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 con- sidered her a model of magnanimity. As she passed the art-table, she glanced over it for her sister's things, but saw no signs of them. " Tucked away out of sight, I dare say," thought Jo, who could forgive her own wrongs, but hotly resented any insult offered to her family. " Good evening. Miss Jo. How does Amy get on?" asked May, with a conciliatory air, for she wanted to show that she also could be generous. " She has sold everything she had that was worth selling, and now she is enjoying herself The flower- table is always attractive, you know, ' especially to gentlemen.' " Jo couldn't resist giving that little slap, but May took it so meekly she regretted it a minute after, and fell to praising the great vases, which still remained unsold. "Is Amy's illumination anywhere about? I took a fancy to buy that for father," said Jo, very anxious to learn the fate of her sister's work. Consequences 385 " Everything of Amy's sold long ago ; I took care that the right people saw them, and they made a nice little sum of money for us/' returned May, who had overcome sundry small temptations, as well as Amy, that day. Much gratified, Jo rushed back to tell the good news; and Amy looked both touched and surprised by the report of May's words and manner. " Now, gentlemen, I want you to go and do your duty by the other tables as generously as you have by mine — especially the art-table," she said, ordering out "Teddy's Own," as the girls called the college friends. " ' Charge, Chester, charge ! ' is the motto for that table; but do your duty like men, and you'll get your money's worth of art in every sense of the word," said the irrepressible Jo, as the devoted phalanx prepared to take the field. " To hear is to obey, but March is fairer far than May," said little Parker, making a frantic effort to be both witty and tender, and getting promptly quenched by Laurie, who said, " Very well, my son, for a small boy ! " and walked him off, with a paternal pat on the head. " Buy the vases," whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of coals of fire on her enemy's head. To May's great delight, Mr. Laurence not only bought the vases, but pervaded the hall with one under each arm. The other gentlemen speculated with equal rash- ness in all sorts of frail trifles, and wandered helplessly about afterward, burdened with wax flowers, painted fans, filigree portfolios, and other useful and appropriate purchases. Aunt Carrol was there, heard the story, looked pleased, and said something to Mrs. March in a corner, which as 386 Little Women made the latter lady beam with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till several days later. The fair was pronounced a success; and when May bade Amy good night, she did not " gush " as usual, but gave her an affectionate kiss, and a look which said, ".Forgive and forget." That satisfied Amy; and when she got home she found the vases paraded on the parlor chimney-piece, with a great bouquet in each. " The reward of merit for a magnanimous March," as Laurie announced with a flourish. " You 've a deal more principle and generosity and nobleness of character than I ever gave you credit for. Amy. You 've behaved sweetly, and I respect you with all my heart," said Jo warmly, as they brushed their hair together late that night. " Yes, we all do, and love her for being so ready to forgive. It must have been dreadfully hard, after work- ing so long, and setting your heart on selling your own pretty things, I don't believe I could have done it as kindly as you did," added Beth from her pillow. " Why, girls, you need n't praise me so ; I only did as I *d be done by. You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how. I can't explain exactly, but I want to be above the little meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women. I 'm far from it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what mother is." Amy spoke earnestly, and Jo said, with a cordial hug,— " I understand now what you mean, and I '11 never laugh at you sigain. You are getting on faster than you Consequences 387 think, and I '11 take lessons of you in true politeness, for you 've learned the secret, I believe. Try away, deary ; you '11 get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall." A week later Amy did get her reward, and poor Jo found it hard to be delighted. A letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March's face was illuminated to such a degree, when she read it, that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded what the glad tidings were. " Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants — " " Me to go with her ! " burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an uncontrollable rapture. " No, dear, not you ; it 's Amy." " O mother ! she 's too young ; it 's my turn first. I 've wanted it so long — it would do me so much good, and be so altogether splendid — I must go." " I 'm afraid it 's impossible, Jo. Aunt says Amy, decidedly, and it is not for us to dictate when she offers such a favor." " It 's always so. Amy has all the fun and I have all the work. It is n't fair, oh, it is n't fair ! " cried Jo passionately. " I 'm afraid it is partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit; and here she writes, as if quoting something you had said, — ' I planned at first to ask Jo ; but as " favors burden her," and she " hates French," I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a good com- panion for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may give her.' " " Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue ! why can't 388 Little Women I learn to keep it quiet?" groaned Jo, remembering words which had been her undoing. When she had heard the explanation of the quoted phrases, Mrs. March said sorrowfully, — " I wish you could have gone, but there is no hope of it this time ; so try to bear it cheerfully, and don't sadden Amy's pleasure by reproaches or regrets." " I '11 try," said Jo, winking hard, as she knelt down to pick up the basket she had joyfully upset. " I '11 take a leaf out of her book, and try not only to seem glad, but to be so, and not grudge her one minute of happiness; but it won't be easy, for it is a dreadful disappointment ; " and poor Jo bedewed the little fat pincushion she held with several very bitter tears. " Jo, dear, I 'm very selfish, but I could n't spare you, and I 'm glad you are not going quite yet," whispered Beth, embracing her, basket and all, with such a cling- ing touch and loving face, that Jo felt comforted in spite of the sharp regret that made her want to box her own ears, and humbly beg Aunt Carrol to burden her with this favor, and see how gratefully she would bear it. By the time Amy came in, Jo was able to take her part in the family jubilation ; not quite as heartily as usual, perhaps, but without repinings at Amy's good fortune. The young lady herself received the news as tidings of great joy, went about in a solemn sort of rapture, and began to sort her colors and pack her pencils that evening, leaving such trifles as clothes, money, and passports to those less absorbed in visions of art than herself. " It is n'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 I Consequences 389 shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it." " Suppose you have n't?" said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy. " Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living," replied the aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure ; but she made a wry face at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if ben)" ' and talent? " " That 's just why, — because talent is n't genius, and 5IO Little Women no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try any more." " And what are you going to do with yourself now,- if I may ask ? " " Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the chance." It was a characteristic speech, and sounded daring; but audacity becomes young people, and Amy's ambi- tion had a good foundation. Laurie smiled, but he liked the spirit with which she took up a new purpose when a long-cherished one died, and spent no time lamenting. " Good ! and here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy." Amy preserved a discreet silence, but there was a conscious look in her downcast face, that made Laurie sit up and say gravely, — " Now I 'm going to play brother, and ask questions. May I?" " I don't promise to answer." " Your face will, if your tongue won't. You are n't woman of the world enough yet to hide your feelings, my dear. I heard rumors about Fred and you last year, and it's my private opinion that, if he had not been called home so suddenly and detained so long, something would have come of it — hey?" " That 's not for me to say," was Amy's prim reply ; but her lips would smile, and there was a traitorous sparkle of the eye, which betrayed that she knew her power and enjoyed the knowledge. " You are not engaged, I hope?" and Laurie looked very elder-brotherly and grave all of a sudden. " No." Lazy Laurence 511 " But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down upon his knees, won't you? " " Very likely." " Then you are fond of old Fred?" "I could be, if I tried." " But you don't intend to try till the proper moment? Bless my soul, what unearthly prudence ! He 's a good fellow. Amy, but not the man I fancied you 'd like." " He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners," began Amy, trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself, in spite of the sincerity of her intentions. " I understand ; queens of society can't get on without money, so you mean to make a good match, and start in that way? Quite right and proper, as the world goes, but it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother's girls." "True, nevertheless." A short speech, but the quiet decision with which it was uttered contrasted curiously with the young speaker. Laurie felt this instinctively, and laid himself down again, with a sense of disappointment which he could not ex- plain. His look and silence, as well as a certain inward self-disapproval, ruffled Amy, and made her resolve to deliver her lecture without delay. " I wish you 'd do me the favor to rouse yourself a little," she said sharply. " Do it for me, there's a dear girl." " I could if I tried ; " and she looked as if she would like doing it in the most summary style. " Try, then ; I give you leave," returned Laurie, who enjoyed having some one to tease, after his long absti- nence from his favorite pastime. " You 'd be angry in five minutes." 512 Little Women " I 'm never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire : you are as cool and soft as snow." " You don't know what I can do ; snow produces a glow and a tingle, if applied rightly. Your indifference is half affectation, and a good stirring up would prove it." " Stir away ; it won't hurt me and it may amuse you, as the big man said when his little wife beat him. Regard me in the light of a husband or a carpet, and beat till you are tired, if that sort of exercise agrees with you." Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the apathy that so altered him, Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and began : — " Flo and I have got a new name for you ; it 's ' Lazy Laurence.' How do you like it? " She thought it would annoy him ; but he only folded his arms under his head, with an imperturbable " That 's not bad. Thank you, ladies.* " Do you want to know what I honestly think of you ? " " Pining to be told." " Well, I despise you." If she had even said "I hate you," in a petulant or coquettish tone, he would have laughed, and rather liked it; but the grave, almost sad, accent of her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly, — " Why, if you please ? " " Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable," " Strong language, mademoiselle." "If you like it, I'll go on." " Pray, do ; it 's quite interesting." "I thought you'd find it so; selfish people always like to talk about themselves." Lazy Laurence 513 "Am /selfish?" The question slipped out involun- tarily and in a tone of surprise, for the one virtue on which he prided himself was generosity. " Yes, very selfish," continued Amy, in a calm, cool voice, twice as effective, just then, as an angry one. " I'll show you how, for I 've studied you while we have been frolicking, and I 'm not at all satisfied with you. Here you have been abroad nearly six months, and done nothing but waste time and money and disappoint your friends." " Is n't a fellow to have any pleasure after a four-years grind? " " You don't look as if you 'd had much; at any rate, you are none the better for it, as far as I can see. I said, when we first met, that you had improved. Now I take it all back, for I don't think you half so nice as when I left you at home. You have grown abominably lazy ; you like gossip, and waste time on frivolous things ; you are contented to be petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and respected by wise ones. With money, talent, position, health, and beauty, — ah, you like that, Old Vanity ! but it 's the truth, so I can't help say- ing it, — with all these splendid things to use and enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle ; and, instead of being the man you might and ought to be, you are only — " There she stopped, with a look that had both pain and pity in it. " Saint Laurence on a gridiron," added Laurie, blandly finishing the sentence. But the lecture began to take effect, for there was a wide-awake sparkle in his eyes now, and a half-angry, half-injured expression replaced the former indifference. " I supposed you 'd take it so. You men tell us we are angels, and say we can make you what we will ; but 33 514 Little Women the instant we honestly try to do you good, you laugh at us, and won't listen, which proves how much your flat- tery is worth." Amy spoke bitterly, and turned her back on the exasperating martyr at her feet. In a minute a hand came down over the page, so that she could not draw, and Laurie's voice said, with a droll imitation of a penitent child, — " I will be good, oh, I will be good ! " But Amy did not laugh, for she was in earnest; and, tapping on the outspread hand with her pencil, said soberly, — "Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that? It's as soft and white as a woman's, and looks as if it never did anything but wear Jouvin's best gloves, and pick flowers for ladies. You are not a dandy, thank Heaven ! so I 'm glad to see there are no diamonds or big seal-rings on it, only the little old one Jo gave you so long ago. Dear soul, I wish she was here to help me ! " "So do I!" The hand vanished as suddenly as it came, and there was energy enough in the echo of her wish to suit even Amy. She glanced down at him with a new thought in her mind ; but he was lying with his hat half over his face, as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She only saw his chest rise and fall, with a long breath that might have been a sigh, and the hand that wore the ring nestled down into the grass, as if to hide something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. All in a minute various hints and trifles assumed shape and significance in Amy's mind, and told her what her sister never had confided to her. She remembered that Laurie never spoke voluntarily of Jo; she recalled the shadow on his face just now, the change in his character, and the wearing of the little old ring, which was no ornament Ill a nnii/ttr a hand came dozen over the pat^e, so thai she could not draw Page 514 Lazy Laurence 515 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 beauti- fully soft and kind when she chose to make it so. " I know I have no right to talk so to you, Laurie ; and if you were n't the sweetest-tempered fellow in the world, you 'd be very angry with me. But we are all so fond and proud of you, I couldn't bear to think they should be disappointed in you at home as I have been, though, perhaps, they would understand the change better than I do." " I think they would," came from under the hat, in a grim tone, quite as touching as a broken one. " They ought to have told me, and not let me go blun- dering and scolding, when I should have been more kind and patient than ever. I never did like that Miss Ran- dal, and now I hate her ! " said artful Amy, wishing to be sure of her facts this time. " Hang Miss Randal ! " and Laurie knocked the hat off his face with a look that left no doubt of his sentiments toward that young lady. " I beg pardon; I thought — " and there she paused diplomatically. " No, you did n't ; you knew perfectly well I never cared for any one but Jo." Laurie said that in his old, impetuous tone, and turned his face away as he spoke. " I did think so ; but as they never said anything about it, and you came away, I supposed I was mistaken. And Jo would n't be kind to you ? Why, I was sure she loved you dearly." ■'■ She was kind, but not in the right way ; and it 's 5i6 Little Women lucky for her she did n't love me, if I 'm the good-for- nothing fellow you think me. It's her fault, though, and you may tell her so." The hard, bitter look came back again as he said that, and it troubled Amy, for she did not know what balm to apply. " I was wrong, I did n't know. I 'm very sorry I was so cross, but I can't help wishing you 'd bear it better, Teddy, dear." " Don't, that 's her name for me ! " and Laurie put up his hand with a quick gesture to stop the words spoken in Jo's half-kind, half-reproachful tone. " Wait till you 've tried it yourself, " he added, in a low voice, as he pulled up the grass by the handful. " I 'd take it manfully, and be respected if I could n't be loved," said Amy, Vv^ith the decision of one who knew nothing about it. Now, Laurie flattered himself that he had borne it remarkably well, making no moan, asking no sympa- thy, 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 in- difference. He felt as if suddenly shaken out of a pensive dream, and found it impossible to go to sleep again. Presently he sat up, and asked slowly, — "Do you think Jo would despise me as you do?" "Yes, if she saw you now. She hates lazy people. Why don't you do something splendid, and make her love you ? " " I did my best, but it was no use." "Graduating well, you mean? That was no more than you ought to have done, for your grandfather's sake. It would have been shameful to fail after spend- Lazy Laurence 517 ing so much time and money, when every one knew you could do well." " I did fail, say what you will, for Jo would n't love me," began Laurie, leaning his head on his hand in a despondent attitude. " No, you did n't, and you '11 say so in the end, for it did you good, and proved that you could do something if you tried. If you 'd only set about another task of some sort, you'd soon be your hearty, happy self again, and forget your trouble." " That 's impossible." " Try it and see. You need n'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 '11 wake up and be a man in spite of that hard- hearted girl." Neither spoke for several minutes. Laurie sat turn- ing the little ring on his finger, and Amy put the last touches to the hasty sketch she had been working at while she talked. Presently she put it on his knee, merely saying, — " How do you like that? " He looked and then he smiled, as he could not well help doing, for it was capitally done, — the long, lazy figure on the grass, with listless face, half-shut eyes, and one hand holding a cigar, from which came the little wreath of smoke that encircled the dreamer's head. Si8 Little Women " How well you draw ! " he said, with genuine surprise and pleasure at her skill, adding, with a half-laugh, — " Yes, that 's me." "As you are; this is as you were;" and Amy laid another sketch beside the one he held. It was not nearly so well done, but there was a life and spirit in it which atoned for many faults, and it re- called 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 im- patiently pawing the ground, and ears pricked up as if listening for the voice that had mastered him. In the ruffled mane, the rider's breezy hair and erect attitude, there was a suggestion of suddenly arrested motion, of strength, courage, and youthful buoyancy, that contrasted sharply with the supine grace of the " Dolce far niente " sketch. Laurie said nothing; but, as his eye went from one to the other, Amy saw him flush up and fold his lips together as if he read and accepted the little lesson she had given him. That satisfied her; and, without waiting for him to speak, she said, in her sprightly way, — " 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 port- folio the other day, touched it up, and kept it to show you." " Much obliged. You 've improved immensely since then, and I congratulate you. May I venture to sug- Lazy Laurence 519 gest in ' a honeymoon Paradise ' that five o'clock is the dinner-hour at your hotel? " Laurie rose as he spoke, returned the pictures with a smile and a bow, and looked at his watch, as if to re- mind her that even moral lectures should have an end. He tried to resume his former easy, indifferent air, but it was an affectation now, for the rousing had been more efficacious than he would confess. Amy felt the shade of coldness in his manner, and said to herself, — " Now I 've offended him. Well, if it does him good, I 'm glad ; if it makes him hate me, I 'm sorry ; but it's true, and I can't take back a word of it." They laughed and chatted all the way home ; and little Baptiste, up behind, thought that monsieur and mademoiselle were in charming spirits. But both felt ill at ease ; the friendly frankness was disturbed, the sun- shine had a shadow over it, and, despite their apparent gayety, there was a secret discontent in the heart of each. "Shall we see you this evening, mon frhef asked Amy, as they parted at her aunt's door.- "Unfortunately, I have an engagement. Au revoir, mademoiselle," and Laurie bent as if to kiss her hand, in the foreign fashion, which became him better than many men. Something in his face made Amy say quickly and warmly, — " No ; be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I 'd rather have a hearty English hand- shake than all the sentimental salutations in France." " Good-by, dear," and with these words, uttered in the tone she liked, Laurie left her, after a hand-shake almost painful in its heartiness. Next morning, instead of the usual call. Amy received a note which made her smile at the beginning and sigh at the end : — 520 Little Women " My dear Mentor, — " Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself, for ' Lazy Laurence ' has gone to his grandpa, like the best of boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a blissful honeymoon at Valrosa ! I think Fred would be benefited by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations. " Yours gratefully, Telemachus." " Good boy ! I 'm glad he *s gone," said Amy, with an approving smile ; the next minute her face fell as she glanced about the empty room, adding, with an involun- tary sigh, — " Yes, I a7n glad, but how I shall miss him ! " CHAPTER XL THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW WHEN the first bitterness was over, the family accepted the inevitable, and tried to bear it cheerfully, helping one another by the in- creased affection which comes to bind households ten- derly together in times of trouble. They put away their grief, and each did his or her part toward making that last year a happy one. The pleasantest room in the house was set apart for Beth, and in it was gathered everything that she most loved, — flowers, pictures, her piano, the little work- table, and the beloved pussies. Father's best books found their way there, mother's easy-chair, Jo's desk, Amy's finest sketches ; and every day Meg brought her babies on a loving pilgrimage, to make sunshine for Aunty Beth. John quietly set apart a little sum, that The Valley of the Shadow 521 he might enjoy the pleasure of keeping the invalid sup- plied with the fruit she loved and longed for ; old Hannah never wearied of concocting dainty dishes to tempt a capricious appetite, dropping tears as she worked; and from across the sea came little gifts and cheerful letters, seeming to bring breaths of warmth and fragrance from lands that know no winter. Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever; for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while pre- paring to leave life, she tried to make it happier for those who should remain behind. The feeble fingers were never idle, and one of her pleasures was to make little things for the school-children daily passing to and fro, — to drop a pair of mittens from her window for a pair of purple hands, a needle-book for some small mother of many dolls, pen-wipers for young penmen toiling through forests of pot-hooks, scrap-books for picture-loving eyes, and all manner of pleasant de- vices, till the reluctant climbers up the ladder of learn- ing found their way strewn with flowers, as it were, and came to regard the gentle giver as a sort of fairy god- mother, who sat above there, and showered down gifts miraculously suited to their tastes and needs. If Beth had wanted any reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to her, full of blots and gratitude. The first few months were very happy ones, and Beth often used to look round, and say " How beauti- ful 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 52 2 Little Women 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 com- fort love, and faith make resignation possible. Simple sermons, that went straight to the souls of those who listened ; for the father's heart was in the minister's religion, and the frequent falter in the voice gave a double eloquence to the words he spoke or read. It was well for all that this peaceful time was given them as preparation for the sad hours to come ; for, by and by, Beth said the needle was " so heavy," and put it down forever ; talking wearied her, faces troubled her, pain claimed her for its own, and her tranquil spirit was sorrowfully perturbed by the ills that vexed her feeble flesh. Ah me ! such heavy days, such long, long nights, such aching hearts and imploring prayers, when those who loved her best were forced to see the thin hands stretched out to them beseechingly, to hear the bitter cry, " Help me, help me ! " and to feel that there was no help. A sad eclipse of the serene soul, a sharp struggle of the young life with death ; but both were mercifully brief, and then, the natural rebellion over, the old peace returned more beautiful than ever. With the wreck of her frail body, Beth's soul grew strong; and, though she said little, those about her felt that she was ready, saw that the first pilgrim called was likewise the fittest, and waited with her on the shore, trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed the river. Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said, " I feel stronger when you are here." She slept on a couch in the room, waking often to renew the fire, to feed, lift, or wait upon the patient creature who seldom The Valley of the Shadow 523 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 noth- ing, but trusts undoubtingly. Often, when she woke, Jo found Beth reading in her well-worn little book, heard her singing softly, to be- guile the sleepless night, or saw her lean her face upon her hands, while slow tears dropped through the trans- parent fingers; and Jo would lie watching her, with thoughts too deep for tears, feeling that Beth, in her simple, unselfish way, was trying to wean herself from the dear old life, and fit herself for the life to come, by sacred words of comfort, quiet prayers, and the music she loved so well. Seeing this did more for Jo than the wisest sermons, the saintliest hymns, the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter; for, with eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life, — uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which " smell sweet, and blossom in the dust," the self-for- getfulness that makes the humblest on earth remem- bered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all. One night, when Beth looked among the books upon her table, to find something to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as hard to bear as 524 Little Women pain, as she turned the leaves of her old favorite Pil- grim's Progress, she found a little paper, scribbled over in Jo's hand. The name caught her eye, and the blurred look of the lines made her sure that tears had fallen on it. " Poor Jo ! she 's fast asleep, so I won't wake her to' ask leave ; she shows me all her things, and I don't think she '11 mind if I look at this," thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the rug, with the tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart. "MY BETH. "Sitting patiently in the shadow Till the blessed light shall come, A serene and saintly presence Sanctifies our troubled home. Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows Break like ripples on the strand Of the deep and solemn river Where her willing feet now stand. " O my sister, passing from me, Out of human care and strife, Leave me, as a gift, those virtues Which have beautified your life. Dear, bequeath me that great patience Which has power to sustain A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit In its prison-house of pain. " Give me, for I need it sorely. Of that courage, wise and sweet, Which has made the path of duty Green beneath your willing feet. Give me that unselfish nature. That with charity divine Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake -« Meek heart, forgive me mine ! The Valley of the Shadow 525 " Thus our parting daily loseth Something of its bitter pain, And while learning this hard lesson, My great loss becomes my gain. For the touch of grief will render My wild nature more serene, Give to life new aspirations, A new trust in the unseen. " Henceforth, safe across the river, I shall see forevermore A beloved, household spirit Waiting for me on the shore. Hope and faith, born of my sorrow. Guardian angels shall become, And the sister gone before me By their hands shall lead me home." Blurred and blotted, faulty and feeble, as the lines were, they brought a look of inexpressible comfort to Beth's face, for her one regret had been that she had done so little ; and this seemed to assure her that her life had not been useless, that her death would not bring the despair she feared. As she sat with the paper folded between her hands, the charred log fell asunder. Jo started up, revived the blaze, and crept to the bedside, hoping Beth slept. " Not asleep, but so happy, dear. See, I found this and read it ; I knew you would n't care. Have I been all that to you, Jo?" she asked, with wistful, humble earnestness. " O Beth, so much, so much ! " and Jo's head went down upon the pillow, beside her sister's. *' Then I don't feel as if I 'd wasted my life. I 'm not so good as you make me, but I Jiave tried to do right; and now, when it 's too late to begin even to do better, it 's such a comfort to know that some one loves me so much, and feels as if I 'd helped them." 526 Little Women " More than any one in the world, Beth. I used to think I could n't let you go ; but I 'm learning to feel that I don't lose you ; that you '11 be more to me than ever, and death can't part us, though it seems to." " I know it cannot, and I don't fear it any longer, for I 'm sure I shall be your Beth still, to love and help you more than ever. You must take my place, Jo, and be everything to father and rruother 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 '11 be happier in doing that than writing splendid books or seeing all the world ; for love is the only thing that we can carry with us when we go, and it makes the end so easy." " I '11 try, Beth ; " and then and there Jo renounced her old ambition, pledged herself to a new and better one, acknowledging the poverty of other desires, and feeling the blessed solace of a belief in the immortality of love. So the spring days came and went, the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the flowers were up fair and early^ and the birds came back in time to say good-by to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung to the hands that had led her all her life, as father and mother guided her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God. Seldom, except in books, do the dying utter memor- able words, see visions, or depart with beatified counte- nances; and those who have sped many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and simply as sleep. As Beth had hoped, the " tide went out easily; " and in the dark hour before the dawn, on the bosom where she had drawn her first breathy she J Learning to Forget 527 quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving look, one little sigh. With tears and prayers and tender hands, mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling, with rev- erent joy, that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom full of dread. When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a bud- ding bough, close by, the snow-drops blossomed freshly at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction over the placid face upon the pillow, — a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last. A CHAPTER XLI LEARNING TO FORGET MY'S lecture did Laurie good, though, of course, ^■\^^ / % he did not own it till long afterward ; men sel- dom do, for when women are the advisers, the lords of creation don't take the advice till they have per- suaded 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 528 Little Women Nice had improved him wonderfully, and he had better try it again. There was nothing the young gentleman would have liked better, but elephant's 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 ypu." 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 affec- tions 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 zvoiild }it love him, but he might make her respect and admire him by doing something which should prove that a girl's " No " had not spoilt his life. He had always meant to do some- thing, and Amy's advice was quite unnecessary. He had only been waiting till the aforesaid blighted affec- tions were decently interred ; that being done, he felt that he was ready to " hide his stricken heart, and still toil on." As Goethe, when he had a joy or a grief, put it into a song, so Laurie resolved to embalm his love-sorrow in music, and compose a Requiem which should harrow up Jo's soul and melt the heart of every hearer. Therefore the next time the old gentleman found him getting rest- less 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 Learning to Forget 529 music too ethereal to uplift a mortal woe, he soon dis- covered 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 re- called the Christmas ball at Nice, especially the stout Frenchman, and put an effectual stop to tragic compo- sition for the time being. Then he tried an Opera, for nothing seemed impos- sible in the beginning ; but here, again, unforeseen diffi- culties 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 oddi- ties, 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 irresistible laugh spoilt the pensive picture he was endeavoring to paint. Jo would n't be put into the Opera at any price, and he had to give her up with a " Bless that girl, what a tor- ment she is ! " and a clutch at his hair, as became a distracted composer. When he looked about him for another and a less intractable damsel to immortalize in melody, memory produced one with the most obliging readiness. This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair, was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his mind's eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he took her 34 5 30 Little Women for his heroine, and grew quite fond of her, as well he might; for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal woman. Thanks to this inspiration, he got on swimmingly for a time, but gradually the work lost its charm, and he for- got to compose, while he sat musing, pen in hand, or roamed about the gay city to get new ideas and refresh his mind, which seemed to be in a somewhat unsettled state that winter. He did not do much, but he thought a great deal and was conscious of a change of some sort going on in spite of himself. " It's genius simmering, perhaps. I '11 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. What- ever it was, it simmered to some purpose, for he grew more and more discontented with his desultory life, be- gan to long for some real and earnest work to go at, soul and body, and finally came to the wise conclusion that every one who loved music was not a composer. Returning from one of Mozart's grand operas, splendidly performed at the Royal Theatre, he looked over his own, played a few of the best parts, sat staring up at the busts of Mendelssohn, Beethoven, and Bach, who stared be- nignly back again ; then suddenly he tore up his music- sheets, one by one, and, as the last fluttered out of his hand, he said soberly to himself, — " She is right ! Talent is n't genius, and you can't make it so. That music has taken the vanity out of me as Rome took it out of her, and I won't be a humbug any longer. Now what shall I do? " That seemed a hard question to answer, and Laurie began to wish he had to work for his daily bread. Now, if ever, occurred an eligible opportunity for " going to Learning to Forget 531 the devil," as he once forcibly expressed it, for he had plenty of money and nothing to do, and Satan is pro- verbially fond of providing employment for full and idle hands. The poor fellow had temptations enough from without and from within, but he withstood them pretty well; for, much as he valued liberty, he valued good faith and confidence more, so his promise to his grandfather, and his desire to be able to look honestly into the eyes of the women who loved him, and say, " All 's well," kept him safe and steady. Very likely some Mrs. Grundy will observe, " I don't believe it ; boys will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats, and women must not expect miracles." I dare sayj^w^ don't, Mrs. Grundy, but it's true neverthe- less. 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 say- ings. Let the boys be boys, the longer the better, and let the young men sow their wild oats if they must ; but mothers, sisters, and friends may help to make the crop a small one, and keep many tares from spoiling the harvest, by believing, and showing that they believe, in the possibility of loyalty to the virtues which make men manliest in good women's eyes. If it is a feminine delusion, leave us to enjoy it while we may, for without it half the beauty and the romance of life is lost, and sorrowful forebodings would embitter all our hopes of the brave, tender-hearted little lads, who still love their mothers better than themselves, and are not ashamed to own it. Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb all his powers for years ; but, to his great surprise, he discovered it grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with himself. 532 Little Women and could n'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 fore- seen 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 disappoint- ment and relief that he could recover from such a tre- mendous 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 senti- ment, very tender, a little sad and resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a brotherly affec- tion which would last unbroken to the end. As the word " brotherly " passed through his mind in one of these reveries, he smiled, and glanced up at the picture of Mozart that was before him : — " Well, he was a great man ; and when he could n't have one sister he took the other, and was happy." Laurie did not utter the words, but he thought them ; and the next instant kissed the little old ring, saying to himself, — " No, I won't ! I have n't forgotten, I never can. I '11 try again, and if that fails, why, then — " Leaving his sentence unfinished, he seized pen and paper and wrote to Jo, telling her that he could not settle to anything while there was the least hope of her changing her mind. Could n't she, would n't she, and let him come home and be happy? While waiting for Learning to Forget 533 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 de- cidedly could n't and would n't. She was wrapped up in Beth, and never wished to hear the word " love " again. Then she begged him to be happy with some- body else, but always to keep a little corner of his heart for his loving sister Jo. In a postscript she desired him not to tell Amy that Beth was worse ; she was coming home in the spring, and there was no need of saddening the remainder of her stay. That would be time enough, please God, but Laurie must write to her often, and not let her feel lonely, homesick, or anxious. " So I will, at once. Poor little girl ; it will be a sad going home for her, I 'm afraid ; " and Laurie opened his desk, as if writing to Amy had been the proper conclusion of the sentence left unfinished some weeks before. But he did not write the letter that day ; for, as he rummaged out his best paper, he came across something which changed his purpose. Tumbling about in one part of the desk, among bills, passports, and business documents of various kinds were several of Jo's letters, and in another compartment were three notes from Amy, carefully tied up with one of her blue ribbons, and sweetly suggestive of the little dead roses put away inside. With a half-repentant, half-amused expression, Laurie gathered up all Jo's letters, smoothed, folded, and put them neatly into a small drawer of the desk, stood a minute turning the ring thoughtfully on his fin- ger, 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 534 Little Women a more proper way to spend the rest of the day than in writing letters to charming young ladies. The letter went very soon, however, and was promptly answered, for Amy was homesick, and confessed it in the most delightfully confiding manner. The corre- spondence 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 expe- riences of her own, which made her rather wish to avoid the quizzical eyes of" our boy." Fred Vaughn had returned, and put the question to which she had once decided to answer, " Yes, thank you ; " but now she said, " No, thank you," kindly but steadily; for, when the time came, her courage failed her, and she found that something more than money and position was needed to satisfy the new longing that filled her heart so full of tender hopes and fears. The words, " Fred is a good fellow, but not at all the man I fancied you would ever like," and Laurie's face when he uttered them, kept returning to her as pertinaciously as her own did when she said in look, if not in words, " I shall marry for money." It troubled her to remembcf that now, she wished she could take it back, it sounded so unwomanly. She did n't want Laurie to think her a heartless, worldly creature ; she did n'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 did n'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, Learning to Forget 535 and were not half so satisfactory as his when they did come. It was not only a pleasure, but a duty to answer them, for the poor fellow was forlorn, and needed pet- ting, since Jo persisted in being stony-hearted. She ought to have made an effort, and tried to love him ; it could n't be very hard, many people would be proud and glad to have such a dear boy care for them ; but Jo never would act like other girls, so there was nothing to do but be very kind, and treat him like a brother. If all brothers were treated as well as Laurie was at this period, they would be a much happier race of beings than they are. Amy never lectured now ; she asked his opinion on all subjects ; she was interested in everything he did, made charming little presents for him, and sent him two letters a week, full of lively gossip, sisterly con- fidences, and captivating sketches of the lovely scenes about her. As few brothers are complimented by having their letters carried about in their sisters' pockets, read and reread diligently, cried over when short, kissed when long, and treasured carefully, we will not hint that Amy did any of these fond and foolish things. But she cer- tainly 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 tomli, a young man asleep in the grass, with his hat over his eyes, or a curly-haired girl in gorgeous array, prome- nading down a ball-room on the arm of a tall gentleman, both faces being left a blur according to the last fashion in art, which was safe, but not altogether satisfactory. Her aunt thought that she regretted her answer to 536 Little Women Fred ; and, finding denials useless and explanations im- possible, Amy left her to think what she liked, taking care that Laurie should know that Fred had gone to Egypt. That was all, but he understood it, and looked relieved, as he said to himself, with a venerable air, — " I was sure she would think better of it. Poor old fellow ! I 've been through it all, and I can sympathize." With that he heaved a great sigh, and then, as if he had discharged his duty to the past, put his feet up on the sofa, and enjoyed Amy's letter luxuriously. While these changes were going on abroad, trouble had come at home; but the letter telling that Beth was failing never reached Amy, and when the next found her, the grass was green above her sister. The sad news met her at Vevay, for the heat had driven them from Nice in May, and they had travelled slowly to Switzerland, by way of Genoa and the Italian lakes. She bore it very well, and quietly submitted to the family decree that she should not shorten her visit, for, since it was too late to say good-by to Beth, she had better stay, and let ab- sence soften her sorrow. But her heart was very heavy ; she longed to be at home, and every day looked wist- fully across the lake, waiting for Laurie to come and comfort her. He did come very soon ; for the same mail brought letters to them both, but he was in Germany, and it took some days to reach him. The moment he read it, he packed his knapsack, bade adieu to his fellow-pedestrians, and was off to keep his promise, with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense. He knew Vevay well ; and as soon as the boat touched the little quay, he hurried along the shore to La Tour, where the Carrols were living oi pension. The g-ar^ou was in despair that the whole family had gone to take a prom- Learning to Forget 537 enade on the lake ; but no, the blond mademoiselle might be in the chateau garden. If monsieur would give himself the pain of sitting down, a flash of time should present her. But monsieur could not wait even " a flash of time," and, in the middle of the speech, departed to find mademoiselle himself A pleasant old garden on the borders of the lovely- lake, with chestnuts rustling overhead, ivy climbing every- where, and the black shadow of the tower falling far across the sunny water. At one corner of the wide, low wall was a seat, and here Amy often came to read or work, or console herself with the beauty all about her. She was sitting here that day, leaning her head on her hand, with a homesick heart and heavy eyes, thinking of Beth, and wondering why Laurie did not come. She did not hear him cross the court-yard beyond, nor see him pause in the archway that led from the subterranean path into the garden. He stood a minute, looking at her with new eyes, seeing what no one had ever seen before, — the tender side of Amy's character. Everything about her mutely suggested love and sorrow, — the blotted letters in her lap, the black ribbon that tied up her hair, the womanly pain and patience in her face ; even the little ebony cross at her throat seemed pathetic to Laurie, for he had given it to her, and she wore it as her only ornament. If he had any doubts about the reception she would give him, they were set at rest the minute she looked up and saw him ; for, dropping everything, she ran to him, exclaiming, in a tone of unmistakable love and longing, — " O Laurie, Laurie, I knew you 'd come to me ! " 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 Hght one, Amy 538 Little Women 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 disap- pointed, for both felt the truth, were satisfied, and gladly left the rest to silence. In a minute Amy went back to her place ; and, while she dried her tears, Laurie gathered up the scattered papers, finding in the sight of sundry well-worn letters and suggestive sketches good omens for the future. As he sat down beside her, Amy felt shy again, and turned rosy red at the recollection of her impulsive greeting. " I could n'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 would n't come," she said, trying in vain to speak quite naturally. " I came the minute I heard. I wish I could say some- thing to comfort you for the loss of dear little Beth ; but I can only feel, and — " He could not get any further, for he, too, turned bashful all of a sudden, and did not quite know what to say. He longed to lay Amy's head down on his shoulder, and tell her to have a good cry, but he did not dare ; so took her hand instead, and gave it a sympathetic squeeze that was better than words. " You need n't say anything ; this comforts me," she said softly. " Beth is well and happy, and I must n'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 need n't go right back, need you?" " Not if you want me, dear." " I do, so much. Aunt and Flo are very kind ; but you Learning to Forget 539 seem like one of the family, and it would be so comfor- table to have you for a little while." Amy spoke and looked so like a homesick child, whose heart was full, that Laurie forgot his bashfulness all at once, and gave her just what she wanted, — the petting she was used to and the cheerful conversation she needed. " Poor little soul, you look as if you 'd grieved your- self half-sick! I 'm going to take care of you, so don't cry any more, but come and walk about with me ; the wind is too chilly for you to sit still," he said, in the half- caressing, half-commanding way that Amy liked, as he tied on her hat, drew her arm through his, and began to pace up and down the sunny walk, under the new-leaved chestnuts. He felt more at ease upon his legs ; and Amy found it very pleasant to have a strong arm to lean upon, a familiar face to smile at her, and a kind voice to talk delightfully for her alone. The quaint old garden had sheltered many pairs of lovers, and seemed expressly made for them, so sunny and secluded was it, with nothing but the tower to over- look them, and the wide lake to carry away the echo of their words, as it rippled by below. For an hour thiy new pair walked and talked, or rested on the wall, enjoy- ing 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 loneli- ness and sorrow behind her in the chateau garden. The moment Mrs. Carrol saw the girl's altered face, she was illuminated with a new idea, and exclaimed to herself, " Now I understand it all, — the child has been pining for young Laurence. Bless my heart, I never thought of such a thing!" With praiseworthy discretion, the good lady said noth- ing, and betrayed no sign of enlightenment ; but cordially 540 Little Women urged Laurie to stay, and begged Amy to enjoy his society, for it would do her more good than so much soh- tude. Amy was a model of docility ; and, as her aunt was a good deal occupied with Flo, she was left to enter- tain her friend, and did it with more than her usual success. At Nice, Laurie had lounged and Amy had scolded; at Vevay, Laurie was never idle, but always walking, rid- ing, 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 con- tradict him, being glad of a like excuse for her own recovered health and spirits. The invigorating air did them both good, and much exercise worked wholesome changes in minds as well as bodies. They seemed to get clearer views of life and duty up there among the everlasting hills; the fresh winds blew away desponding doubts, delusive fancies, and moody mists; the warm spring sunshine brought out all sorts of aspiring ideas, tender hopes, and happy thoughts ; the lake seemed to wash away the troubles of the past, and the grand old mountains to look benignly down upon them, saying, " Little children, love one another." In spite of the new sorrow, it was a very happy time, so happy that Laurie could not bear to disturb it by a word. It took him a little while to recover from his surprise at the rapid cure of his first, and, as he had firmly believed, his last and only love. He consoled himself for the seeming disloyalty by the thought that Jo's sister was almost the same as Jo's self, and the con- viction that it would have been impossible to love any other woman but Amy so soon and so well. His first Learning to Forget 541 wooing had been of the tempestuous order, and he looked back upon it as if through a long vista of years, with a feeling of compassion blended with regret. He was not ashamed of it, but put it away as one of the bitter-sweet experiences of his life, for which he could be grateful when the pain was over. His second wooing he resolved should be as calm and simple as possible ; there was no need of having a scene, hardly any need of telling Amy that he loved her; she knew it without words, and had given him his answer long ago. It all came about so naturally that no one could complain, and he knew that everybody would be pleased, even Jo. But when our first little passion has been crushed, we are apt to be wary and slow in making a second trial ; so Laurie let the days pass, enjoying every hour, and leaving to chance the utterance of the word that would put an end to the first and sweetest part of his new romance. He had rather imagined that the denouement 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 noon day, 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 \'alley, and Lausanne upon the hill beyond, a cloudless blue sky overhead, and the bluer lake below, dotted with the picturesque boats that looked like white-winged gulls. They had been talking of Bonnivard, as they glided past Chillon, and of Rousseau, as they looked up at Clarcns, where he wrote his " H61oise." Neither had read it, but they knew it was a love-story, and each 542 Little Women privately wondered if it was half as interesting as their own. Amy had been dabbling her hand in the water during the little pause that fell between them, and, when she looked up, Laurie was leaning on his oars, with an expression in his eyes that made her say hastily, merely for the sake of saying something, — "You must be tired; rest a little, and let me row; it will do me good ; for, since you came, I have been altogether lazy and luxurious." " I 'm not tired ; but you may take an oar, if you hke. There 's room enough, though I have to sit nearly in the middle, else the boat won't trim," returned Laurie, as if he rather liked the arrangement. Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things ; and, though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water. "How well we pull together, don't we?" said Amy, who objected to silence just then. " So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?" very tenderly. " Yes, Laurie," very low. Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake. All Alone 543 CHAPTER XLII ALL ALONE IT was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapped up in another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example ; but when the help- ful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Jo found her promise very hard to keep. How could she " comfort father and mother," when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister ; how could she " make the house cheerful," when all its light and warmth and beauty seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home for the new; and where in all the world could she " find some useful, happy work to do," that would take the place of the loving service which had been its own reward? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust that her few joys should be lessened, her burdens made heavier, and life get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all shadow ; it was not fair, for she tried more than Amy to be good, but never got any reward, only disappointment, trouble, and hard work. Poor Jo, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came over her when she thought of spending all her life in that quiet house, devoted to humdrum cares, a few small pleasures, and the duty that never seemed to grow any easier. " I can't do it. I was n't meant for a life like this, and I know I shall break away and do some- thing desperate if somebody don't come and help me," 544 Little Women she said to herself, when her first efiforts failed, and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable. But some one did come and help her, though Jo did not recognize her good angels at once, because they wore familiar shapes, and used the simple spells best fitted to poor humanity. Often she started up at night, thinking Beth called her ; and when the sight of the little empty bed made her cry with the bitter cry of an imsubmissive sorrow, "O Beth, come back ! come back ! " she did not stretch out her yearning arms in vain ; for, as quick to hear her sobbing as she had been to hear her sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her, not with words only, but the patient tenderness that soothes by a touch, tears that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Jo's, and broken whispers, more eloquent than prayers, because hopeful resignation went hand-in-hand with natural sorrow. Sacred moments, when heart talked to heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing, which chastened grief and strengthened love. Feeling this, Jo's burden seemed easier to bear, dut}' grew sweeter, and life looked more endurable, seen from the safe shelter of her mother's arms. When aching heart was a little comforted, troubled mind likewise found help ; for one day she went to the study, and, leaning over the good gray head lifted to wel- come her with a tranquil smile, she said, v^ery humbly, — " Father, talk to me as you did to Beth. I need it more than she did, for I 'm all wrong." " My dear, nothing can comfort me like this," he an- swered, with a falter in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he, too, needed help, and did not fear to ask it. Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Jo All Alone 545 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 conso- lation 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 mu- tual sympathy as well as mutual love. Happy, thought- ful 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 sub- missive spirit; for the parents who had taught one child to meet death without fear, were trying now to teach an- other to accept life without despondency or distrust, and to use its beautiful opportunities with gratitude and power. Other helps had Jo, — himible, 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 some- thing of her housewifely spirit seemed to linger round the little mop and the old brush, that was never thrown away. As she used them, Jo found herself humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth's orderly ways, and giv- ing the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and cosey, which was the first step toward making home happy, though she did n't know it, till Hannah said with an approving squeeze of the hand, — " You thoughtful creter, you 're determined we sha'n't miss that dear lamb ef you can help it. We don't say much, but we see it, and the Lord will bless you for 't, see ef He don't." 3S 54^ Little Women As they sat sewing together, Jo discovered how much improved her sister Meg was ; how well she could talk, how much she knew about good, womanly impulses, thoughts, and feelings, how happy she was in husband and children, and how much they were all doing for each other. " Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom out half as well as you have, if I tried it? " said Jo, as she constructed a kite for Demi, in the topsy-turvy nursery. "It's just what you need to bring out the tender, womanly half of your nature, Jo. You are like a chest- nut-burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart some day, and then the rough burr will fall off." " Frost opens chestnut-burrs, ma'am, and it takes a good shake to bring them down. Boys go nutting, and I don't care to be bagged by them," returned Jo, pasting away at the kite which no wind that blows would ever carry up, for Daisy had tied herself on as a bob. Meg laughed, for she was glad to see a glimmer of Jo's old spirit, but she felt it her duty to enforce her opinion by every argument in her power ; and the sisterly chats were not wasted, especially as two of Meg's most effective arguments were the babies, whom Jo loved tenderl}-. Grief is the best opener for some hearts, and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag: a little more sunshine to ripen the nut, then, not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernel sound and sweet. If she had suspected this, she would have shut up tight, and been more prickly than ever; fortunately she was n't thinking about herself, so, when the time came, down she dropped. All Alone 547 Now, if she had been the heroine of a moral story-book, she ought at this period of her hfe 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 was n't a heroine ; she was only a struggling hu- man 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 '11 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 un- happy 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 cheer- fully live for others? Providence had taken her at her word ; here was the task, not what she had expected, but better, because self had no part in it: now, could she do it? She decided that she would try; and, in her first attempt, she found the helps I have suggested. Still another was given her, and she took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort, as Christian took the refreshment afforded by the little arbor where he rested, as he climbed the hill called Difficulty. " Why don't you write ? That always used to make you happy," said her mother, once, when the desponding fit overshadowed Jo. 548 Little Women " I 've no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my things." "We do; write something for us, and never mind the rest of the world. Try it, dear ; I 'm sure it would do you good, and please us very much." " Don't believe I can ; " but Jo got out her desk, and began to overhaul her half-finished manuscripts. An hour afterward her mother peeped in, and there she was, scratching away, with her black pinafore on, and an absorbed expression, which caused Mrs. March to smile, and slip away, well pleased with the success of her sugges- tion. Jo never knew how it happened, but something got into that story that went straight to the hearts of those who read it; for, when her family had laughed and cried over it, her father sent it, much against her will, to one of the popular magazines, and, to her utter surprise, it was not only paid for, but others requested. Letters from several persons, whose praise was honor, followed the appearance of the little story, newspapers copied it, and strangers as well as friends admired it. For a small thing it was a great success ; and Jo was more astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned all at once. " I don't understand it. What can there be in a sim- ple little story like that, to make people praise it so?" she said, quite bewildered. " There is truth in it, Jo, that's the secret; humor and pathos make it alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with no thought of fame or money, and put your heart into it, my daughter; you have had the bitter, now comes the sweet. Do your best, and grow as happy as we are in your success. " " If there is anything good or true in what I write, it is n't mine ; I owe it all to you and mother and to Beth," All Alone 549 said Jo, more touched by her father's words than by any amount of praise from the world. So, taught by love and sorrow, Jo wrote her Httle stories, and sent them away to make friends for them- selves and ner, finding it a very charitable world to such humble wanderers ; for they were kindly welcomed, and sent home comfortable tokens to their mother, like duti- ful children whom good fortune overtakes. When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement, Mrs. March feared that Jo would find it difficult to rejoice over it, but her fears were soon set at rest; for, though Jo looked grave at first, she took it very quietly, and was full of hopes and plans for " the children " before she read the letter twice. It was a sort of written duet, wherein each glorified the other in lover-like fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to think of, for no one had any objection to make. "You like it, mother?" said Jo, as they laid down the closely written sheets, and looked at one another. " Yes, I hoped it would be so, ever since Amy wrote that she had refused Fred. I felt sure then that some- thing better than what you call the * mercenary spirit' had come over her, and a hint here and there in her let- ters made me suspect that love and Laurie would win the day. " *' How sharp you are, Marmee, and how silent ! You never said a word to me." " Mothers have need of sharp eyes and discreet tongues when they have girls to manage. I was half afraid to put the idea into your head, lest you should write and congratulate them before the thing was settled." " I 'm not the scatter-brain I was ; you may trust m.e, I 'm sober and sensible enough for any one's confidante now." ^^o Little Women " So you are, dear, and I should have made you mine, only I fancied it might pain you to learn that your Teddy loved any one else." " Now, mother, did you really think I qsuld be so silly and selfish, after I 'd refused his love, when it was freshest, if not best ? " " I knew you were sincere then, Jo, but lately I have thought that if he came back, and asked again, you might, perhaps, feel like giving another answer. For- give me, dear, I can't help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart ; so I fancied that your boy might fill the empty place if he tried now." "No, mother, it is better as it is, and I 'm glad Amy has learned to love him. But you are right in one thing: I ajn lonely, and perhaps if Teddy had tried again, I might have said ' Yes,' not because I love him any more, but because I care more to be loved than when he went away." " I 'm glad of that, Jo, for it shows that you are get- ting on. There are plenty to love you, so try to be satisfied with father and mother, sisters and brothers, friends and babies, till the best lover of all comes to give you your reward." " Mothers are the dest lovers in the world ; but I don't mind whispering to Marmee that I 'd like to try all kinds. It 's very curious, but the more I try to satisfy myself with all sorts of natural affections, the more I seem to want. I 'd no idea hearts could take in so many; mine is so elastic, it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented with my family. I don't understand it." " I do ; " and Mrs. March smiled her wise smile, as Jo turned back the leaves to read what Amy said of Laurie. All Alone 551 " It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me ; he is n't sentimental, does ri't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and am so proud to know it 's mine. He says he feels as if he ' could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.' I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets us be together. O mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be, when two people love and live for one another ! " " And that 's our cool, reserved, and worldly Amy ! Truly, love does work miracles. How very, very happy they must be ! " And Jo laid the rustling sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the work-a-day world again. By and by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed her, and the old feeling came again, not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one sister should have all she asked, the other nothing. It was not true ; she knew that, and tried to put it away, but the natural craving for affection was strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for some one to " love with heart and soul, and cling to while God let them be together." Up in the garret, where Jo's unquiet wanderings 55 2 Little Women ended, stood four little wooden chests in a row, each marked with its owner's name, and each filled with relics of the childhood and girlhood ended now for all. Jo glanced into them, and when she came to her own, leaned her chin on the edge, and stared absently at the chaotic collection, till a bundle of old exercise-books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over, and re-lived that pleasant winter at kind Mrs. Kirke's. She had smiled at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a little message writ- ten in the Professor's hand, her lips began to tremble, the books slid out of her lap, and she sat looking at the friendly words, as if they took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in her heart. " Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely come." " Oh, if he only would ! So kind, so good, so patient with me always ; my dear old Fritz, I did n't value him half enough when I had him, but now how I should love to see him, for every one seems going away from me, and I 'm all alone." And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be fulfilled, Jo laid her head down on a comfortable rag-bag, and cried, as if in opposition to the rain pattering on the roof. 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 ? Surprises 553 CHAPTER XLIII SURPRISES JO was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire, and thinking. It was her fav- orite 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 think- ing tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad ; for to-morrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed to have accomplished. Al- most twenty-five, and nothing to show for it. Jo was mistaken in that; there was a good deal to show, and by and by she saw, and was grateful for it. " An old maid, that 's what I 'm to be. A literary spinster, with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children, and twenty years hence a morsel of fame, per- haps ; when, like poor Johnson, I 'm old, and can't en- joy it, solitary, and can't share it, independent, and don't need it. Well, I need n't be a sour saint nor a selfish sinner; and, I dare say, old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it; but — " and there Jo sighed, as if the prospect was not inviting. It seldom is, at first, and thirty seems the end of all things to five-and-twenty ; but it's not so bad as it looks, and one can get on quite happily if one has something in one's self to fall back upon. At twenty- five, girls begin to talk about being old maids, but se- cretly resolve that they never will be ; at thirty they say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact, and, if sen- 554 Little Women sible, console themselves by remembering that they have twenty more useful, happy years, in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragical ro- mances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacri- fices 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 for- ever, that silver threads will come in the bonnie brown hair, and that, by and by, kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now. Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color. Just rec- ollect 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 Surprises 555 of her lonely old heart for " the best nevvy in the world." Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has during this little homily), for suddenly Laurie's ghost seemed to stand before her, — a substantial, lifelike ghost, — leaning over her, with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and did n't like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballad, — " She could not think it he," and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully, — " O my Teddy ! O my Teddy ! " "Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then? " " Glad ! My blessed boy, words can't expr&ss my gladness. Where 's Amy? " " Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches." "Your what?" cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him. " Oh, the dickens ! now I 've done it; " and he looked so guilty that Jo was down upon him like a flash. " You 've gone and got married ! " " Yes, please, but I never will again ; " and he went down upon his knees, with a penitent clasping of hands, and a face full of mischief, mirth, and triumph. " Actually married ? " "Very much so, thank you." " Mercy on us ! What dreadful thing will you do next?" and Jo fell into her seat, with a gasp. "A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, 556 Little Women congratulation," returned Laurie, still in an abject atti- tude, but beaming with satisfaction. " What can you expect, when you take one's breath away, creeping in like a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it." " Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to barricade." ' Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day, and patted the sofa invitingly, as she said, in a cordial tone, — " The old pillow is up garret, and we don't need It now ; so, come and 'fess, Teddy." " How good it sounds to hear you say ' Teddy ' ! No one ever calls me that but you ; " and Laurie sat down, with an air of great content. " What does Amy call you? " " My lord." " That 's like her. Well, you look it ; " and Jo's eyes plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever. The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade, nevertheless, — a natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of heart. Both felt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity, — " Don't I look like a married man and the head of a family? " " Not a bit, and you never will. You 've grown bigger and bonnier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever." " Now, really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect," began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely. " How can I, when the mere idea of you, married and Surprises 557 settled, is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober ! " answered Jo, smiling all over her face, so infectiously that they had another laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion. " It 's no use your going out in the cold to get Amy, for they are all coming up presently. I could n't wait; I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise, and have ' first skim,' as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream." " Of course you did, and spoilt your story by begin- ning at the wrong end. Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened ; I 'm pining to know." " Well, I did it to please Amy," began Laurie, with a twinkle that made Jo exclaim, — " Fib number one ; Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if you can, sir." " Now she 's beginning to marm it; is n'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 an- other winter in Paris. But grandpa wanted to come home ; he went to please me, and I could n't let him go alone, neither could I leave Amy; and Mrs. Carrol had got English notions about chaperons and such nonsense, and would n't let Amy come with us. So I just settled the difficulty by saying, ' Let 's be married, and then we can do as we like.' " " Of course you did ; you always have things to suit you." " Not always ; " and something in Laurie's voice made Jo say hastily, — " How did you ever get aunt to agree? " 558 Little Women "It was hard work; but, between us, we talked her over, for we had heaps of good reasons on our side. There was n'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." " Are n't we proud of those two words, and don't we like to say them? " interrupted Jo, addressing the fire in her turn, and watching with delight the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloomy when she saw them last. " A trifle, perhaps ; she 's such a captivating little woman I can't help being proud of her. Well, then, uncle and aunt were there to play propriety ; we were so absorbed in one another we were of no mortal use apart, and that charming arrangement would make every- thing easy all round ; so we did it." " When, where, how? " asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interest and curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle. " Six weeks ago, at the American consul's, In Paris; a very quiet wedding, of course, for even in our happi- ness we did n't forget dear little Beth." Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the little red pillow, which he remem- bered well. " Why did n't you let us know afterward ? " asked Jo, in a quieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute. " We wanted to surprise you ; we thought we were coming directly home, at first; but the dear old gentle- man, as soon as we were married, found he could n'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 Surprises 559 there, and were as happy as people are but once in their lives. My faith ! was n't it love among the roses ! " Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad of it; for the fact that he told her these things so freely and naturally assured her that he had quite for- given and forgotten. She tried to draw away her hand ; but, as if he guessed the thought that prompted the half- involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast, and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before, — • " Jo, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we '11 put it by forever. As I told you in my letter, when I wrote that Amy had been so kind to me, I never shall stop loving you; but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you change places in my heart, that 's all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me ; but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent; and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of my- self. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that I did n't know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love both alike ; but I could n't, and when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places, and I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on with the new ; that I could honestly share my heart between sister Jo and wife Amy, and love them both dearly. Will you believe it, and go back to the happy old times when we first knew one another? " " I '11 believe it, with all my heart ; but, Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again : the happy old times 560 Little Women can't come back, and we must n't expect it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do, for play- time is over, and we must give up frolicking. I 'm sure you feel this; I see the change in you, and you '11 find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives, won't we, Laurie? " He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion, there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them both. Presently Jo said cheerfully, for she did n'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 pina- fore, and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me, how time does fly ! " " As one of the children is older than yourself, you need n'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 '11 find her rather a precocious infant," said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal air. " You may be a little older in years, but I 'm ever so much older in feeling, Teddy, Women always are ; and this last year has been such a hard one that I feel forty." " Poor Jo ! we left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring. You are older; here's a line, and there's another; unless you smile, your eyes look sad, and when I touched the cushion, just now, I found a tear on it. You 've had a great deal to bear, and had to Surprises 561 bear it all alone. What a selfish beast I 've been ! " and Laurie pulled his own hair, with a remorseful look. But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered, in a tone which she tried to make quite cheerful, — " No, I had father and mother to help me, the dear babies to comfort me, and the thought that you and Amy were safe and happy, to make the troubles here easier to bear. I am lonely, sometimes, but I dare say it 's good for me, and — " " You never shall be again," broke in Laurie, putting his arm about her, as if to fence out every human ill. " Amy and I can't get on without you, so you must come and teach ' the children ' to keep house, and go halves in everything, just as we used to do, and let us pet you, and all be blissfully happy and friendly together." " If I should n't be in the way, it would be very pleasant. I begin to feel quite young already; for, somehow, all my troubles seemed to fly away when you came. You always were a comfort, Teddy ; " and Jo leaned her head on his shoulder, just as she did years ago, when Beth lay ill, and Laurie told her to hold on to him. He looked down at her, wondering if she remembered the time, but Jo was smiling to herself, as if, in truth, her troubles had all vanished at his coming. " You are the same Jo still, dropping tears about one minute, and laughing the next. You look a little wicked now; what is it, grandma? " " I was wondering how you and Amy get on together." " Like angels ! " "Yes, of course, at first; but which rules?" " I don't mind telling you that she does, now ; at least 562 Little Women I let her think so, — it pleases her, you know. By and by we shall take turns, for marriage, they say, halves one's rights and doubles one's duties." " You '11 go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of your life." " Well, she does it so imperceptibly that I don't think I shall mind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well ; in fact, I rather like it, for she "winds one round her finger as softly and prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favor all the while." " That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband and enjoying it ! " cried Jo, with uplifted hands. It was good to see Laurie square his shoulders, and smile with masculine scorn at that insinuation, as he replied, with his "high and mighty" air, — " Amy is too well-bred for that, and I am not the sort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect our- selves and one another too much ever to tyrannize or quarrel." Jo liked that, and thought the new dignity very be- coming, but the boy seemed changing very fast into the man, and regret mingled with her pleasure. " I am sure of that; Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to. She is the sun and I the wind, in the fiible, and the sun managed the man best, you remember." " She can blow him up as well as shine on him," laughed Laurie. " Such a lecture as I got at Nice ! I give you my word it was a deal worse than any of your scoldings, — a regular rouscr. I'll tell you all about it sometime, — i-//rnever will, because, after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me, she lost Surprises 563 her heart to the despicable party and married the good- for-nothing." " What baseness ! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I '11 defend you." " Ilook as if I needed it, don't I? " said Laurie, get- ting up and striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposing to the rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard, calling, — " Where is she? Where 's my dear old Jo? " In trooped the whole family, and every one w^as 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 re- ceived 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 com- pletely won his old heart; and best of all, to watch Laurie revolve about the two, as if never tired of enjoy- ing the pretty picture they made. The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious that her own dress had n'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 5^4 Little Women well, not only in worldly things, but the better wealth of love, confidence, and happiness. For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful heart, her voice had a new tender- ness 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 un- mistakable sign of the true gentlewoman she had hoped to become. " Love has done much for our little girl," said her mother softly. " She has had a good example before her all her Hfe, my dear," Mr. March whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face and gray head beside him. Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her " pitty aunty," but attached herself like a lap-dog to the wonderful 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 un- conditional surrender, however, for Laurie knew where to have him. " Young man, when I first had the honor of making your acquaintance you hit me in the face : now I de- mand 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. " Blest if she ain't in silk from head to foot ! Ain't it a relishin' sight to see her scttin' there as fine as a fiddle, and hear folks calling little Amy, Mis. Laurence?" mut- Surprises 565 tered old Hannah, who could not resist frequent " peeks " through the slide as she set the table in a most decidedly promiscuous manner. Mercy on us, how they did talk ! first one, then the other, then all burst out together, trying to tell the his- tory of three years in half an hour. It was fortunate that tea was at hand, to produce a lull and provide refreshment, for they would have been hoarse and faint if they had gone on much longer. Such a happy procession as filed away into the little dining-room ! Mr. March proudly escorted " Mrs. Laurence ; " Mrs. March as proudly leaned on the arm of " my son ; " the old gentleman took Jo, with a whispered " You must be my girl now," and a glance at the empty corner by the fire that made Jo whisper back, with trembling lips, " I '11 try to fill her place, sir." The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand, for every one was so busy with the new- comers that they were left to revel at their own sweet will, and you may be sure they made the most of the opportunity. Didn't they steal sips of tea, stuff ginger- bread ad libitum, get a hot biscuit apiece, and, as a crowning trespass, did n't they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets, there to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them that both human nature and pastry are frail? Burdened with the guilty consciousness of the sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo's sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise of cambric and merino which hid their booty, the little sin- ners attached themselves to " Dranpa," who had n't his spectacles on. Amy, who was handed about like re- freshments, returned to the parlor on Father Laurence's arm ; the others paired off as before, and this arrange- ment left Jo companionless. She did not mind it at 566 Little Women the minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eagei inquiry, — " Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (^coupe), and use all them lovely silver dishes that 's stored away over yander?" " Should n't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and wore diamonds and point-lace every day. Teddy thinks nothing too good for her," returned Jo with infinite satisfaction. " No more there is ! Will you have hash or fish-balls for breakfast?" asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose. " I don't care ; " and Jo shut the door, feeling that food was an uncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party vanishing above, and, as Demi's short plaid legs toiled up the last stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, " I '11 weep a little weep when I go to bed ; it won't do to be dismal now." Then she drew her hand over her eyes, — for one of her boyish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was, — and had just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the porch- door. She opened it with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her ; for there stood a tall, bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun. " O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you ! " cried Jo, with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in. Surprises 567 "And I to see Miss Marsch, — but no, you haf a party — " and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them, " No, we have n't, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us." Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day; but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes. " If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?" He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it. " Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last." " Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that ; " and he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face, that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand. " Father, mother, this is my friend. Professor Bhaer," she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish. If the stranger had had any doubts about his recep- tion, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Every one greeted him kindly, for Jo's sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, for he carried the 568 Little Women talisman that opens all hearts, and these simple people warmed to him "at once, feeling even the more friendly because he was poor ; for poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveller who knocks at a strange door, and, when it opens, finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honey-pot; and, establishing them- selves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The women tele- graphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest's benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep. If Jo had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's be- havior would have amused her ; for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like suspicion, caused that gentleman to stand aloof at first, and observe the new- comer with brotherly circumspection. But it did not last long. He got interested in spite of himself, and, before he knew it, was drawn into the circle; for Mr. Bhaer talked well in this genial atmosphere, and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often, and a shadow would pass across his face, as if regretting his own lost youth, as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eye would turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute inquiry if she had seen it; but Jo had her own e)'cs to take care of, and, feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden aunt. A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips Surprises 569 of fresh water after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps rhowed 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 gentle- man than ever. His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed, but did n'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 let- ting nothing escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bhaer actually had gold sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wrist- bands ! " Dear old fellow ! He could n't have got himself up with more care if he 'd been going a-wooing," said Jo to herself; and then a sudden thought, born of the words, made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her ball, and go down after it to hide her face. The manoeuvre did not succeed as well as she expected, however; for, though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral-pile, the Professor dropped his torch, metaphori- cally speaking, and made a dive after the little blue ball 570 Little Women Of course they bumped their heads smartly together, saw stars, and both came up flushed and laughing, wtthout the ball, to resume their seats, wishing they had not left them. Nobody knew where the evening went to ; for Hannah skilfully abstracted the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr. Laurence went home to rest. The others sat round the fire, talking away, utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg, whose maternal mind was impressed with a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi set his night- gown afire studying the structure of matches, made a move to go. "We must have our sing, in the good old way, for we are all together again once more," said Jo, feeling that a, good shout would be a safe and pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions of her soul. They were not all there. But no one found the words thoughtless or untrue ; for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence, invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not break the household league that love made indissoluble. The little chair stood in its old place ; the tidy basket, with the bit of work she left unfinished when the needle grew " so heavy," was still on its accustomed shelf; the beloved instrument, seldom touched now, had not been moved ; and above it Beth's face, serene and smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon them, seeming to say, " Be happy. I am here." " Play something. Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved," said Laurie, with pardonable pride in his proinising pupil. But Amy whispered, with full eyes, as she twirled the faded stool, — Surprises 571 " Not to-night, dear. I can't show off to-night." But she did show something better than briUiancy or skill ; for she sung Beth's songs with a tender music in her voice which the best master could not have taught, and touched the listeners' hearts with a sweeter power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very still, when the clear voice failed suddenly at the last line of Beth's favorite hymn. It was hard to say, — " Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal ; " and Amy leaned against her husband, who stood behind her, feeling that her welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth's kiss. " Now, we must finish with Mignon's song; for Mr. Bhaer sings that," said Jo, before the pause grew pain- ful. And Mr. Bhaer cleared his throat with a gratified " Hem ! " as he stepped into the corner where Jo stood, saying, — "You will sing with me? We go excellently well together." A pleasing fiction, by the way ; for Jo had no more idea of music than a grasshopper. But she would have consented if he had proposed to sing a whole opera, and warbled away, blissfully regardless of time and tune. It did n't much matter ; for Mr. Bhaer sang like a true Ger- man, heartily and well ; and Jo soon subsided into a sub- dued hum, that she might listen to the mellow voice that seemed to sing for her alone. " Know'st thou the land where the citron blooms," used to be the Professor's favorite line, for " das land " meant Germany to him ; but now he seemed to dwell, with peculiar warmth and melody, upon the words, — 572 Little Women " There, oh there, might I with thee, O my beloved, go ! " and one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that she longed to say she did know the land, and would joyfully depart thither whenever he liked. The song was considered a great success, and the singer retired covered with laurels. But a few minutes afterward, he forgot his manners entirely, and stared at Amy putting on her bonnet; for she had been intro- duced simply as " my sister," and no one had called her by her new name since he came. He forgot himself still further when Laurie said, in his most gracious manner, at parting, — " My wife and I are very glad to meet you, sir. Please remember that there is always a welcome waiting for you over the way." Then the Professor thanked him so heartily, and looked so suddenly illuminated with satisfaction, that Laurie thought him the most delightfully demonstrative old fellow he ever met. " I too shall go; but I shall gladly come again, if you will gif me leave, dear madame, for a little business in the city will keep me here some days." He spoke to Mrs. March, but he looked at Jo; and the mother's voice gave as cordial an assent as did the daughter's eyes ; for Mrs. March was not so blind to her children's interest as Mrs. Moffat supposed. " I suspect that is a wise man," remarked Mr. March, with placid satisfaction, from the hearth-rug, after the last guest had gone. " I know he is a good one," added Mrs. March, with decided approval, as she wound up the clock. " I thought you 'd like him," was all Jo said, as she slipped away to her bed. My Lord and Lady 573 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 pic- ture 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, espe- cially when he turned off the gas, and kissed the picture in the dark. CHAPTER XLIV MY LORD AND LADY " "X^LEASE, Madam Mother, could you lend me 1—-^ my wife for half an hour? The luggage has J^ come, and I 've been making hay of Amy's Paris finery, trying to find some things I want," said Laurie, coming in the next day to find Mrs. Laurence sitting in her mother's lap, as if being made "the baby" again. " Certainly. Go, dear ; I forget that you have any home but this," and Mrs. March pressed the white hand that wore the wedding-ring, as if asking pardon for her maternal covetousness. " I should n't have come over if I could have helped it ; but I can't get on without my little woman any more than a — " "Weathercock can without wind," suggested Jo, as he paused for a simile ; Jo had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home. " Exactly ; for Amy keeps me pointmg due west most of the time, with only an occasional whiffle round to the 574 Little Women south, and I have n't had an easterly spell since I was married ; don't know anything about the north, but am altogether salubrious and balmy, hey, my lady?" " Lovely weather so far ; I don't know how long it will last, but I 'm not afraid of storms, for I 'm learning how to sail my ship. Come home, dear, and I '11 find your boot- jack; I suppose that's what you are rummaging after among my things. Men are so helpless, mother," said Amy, with a matronly air, which delighted her husband. " What are you going to do with yourselves after you get settled ? " asked Jo, buttoning Amy's cloak as she used to button her pinafores. " We have our plans ; we don't mean to say much about them yet, because we are such very new brooms, but we don't intend to be idle. I 'm going into business with a devotion that shall delight grandfather, and prove to him that I 'm not spoilt. I need something of the sort to keep me steady. I 'm tired of dawdling, and mean to work like a man." " And Amy, what is she going to do ? " asked Mrs. March, well pleased at Laurie's decision, and the energy with which he spoke. " After doing the civil all round, and airing our best bonnet, we shall astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion, the brilliant society we shall draw about us, and the beneficial influence we shall exert over the world at large. That^s about it, is n't it, Madame Reca- mier?" asked Laurie, with a quizzical look at Amy. " Time will show. Come away, Impertinence, and don't shock my family by calling me names before their faces," answered Amy, resolving that there should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a salon as a queen of society. " How happy those children seem together ! " observed My Lord and Lady 575 Mr. March, finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple had gone. " Yes, and I think it will last," added Mrs. March, with the restful expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port. " I know it will. Happy Amy ! " and Jo sighed, then smiled brightly as Professor Bhaer opened the gate with an impatient push. Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the bootjack, Laurie said suddenly to his wife, who was flitting about, arranging her new art treasures, — " Mrs. Laurence." " My lord ! " " That man intends to marry our Jo ! " *' I hope so ; don't you, dear? " " Well, my love, I consider him a trump, in the fullest sense of that expressive word, but I do wish he was a little younger and a good deal richer." " Now, Laurie, don't be too fastidious and worldly- minded. If they love one another it does n'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 hus- band, who replied, with malicious gravity, — " Certainly not, though you do hear charming girls say that they intend to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it your duty to make a rich match; that accounts, perhaps, for your marrying a good-for-nothing like me." " O my dearest boy, don't, don't say that ! I forgot you were rich when I said ' Yes.' I 'd have married you if you had n'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 pubhc and very fond Sl^ Little Women in private, gave convincing proofs of the truth of hei words. " Vou don't really think I am such a mercenary crea- ture as I tried to be once, do you? It would break my heart if you did n't believe that I 'd gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake." "Am I an idiot and a brute? How could I think so, when you refused a richer man for me, and won't let me give you half I want to now, when I have the right? Girls do it every day, poor things, and are taught to think it is their only salvation; but you ha'^' better lessons, and, though I trembled for you at one time, I was not dis- appointed, 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 mil- lion, to be spent in charity. You are not listening to my moral remarks, Mrs. Laurence ; " and Laurie paused, for Amy's eyes had an absent look, though fixed upon his face. " Yes, I am, and admiring the dimple in your chin at the same time. I don't wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I 'm prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don't laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me ; " and Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction. Laurie had received many compliments in his life, but never one that suited him better, as he plainly showed, though he did laugh at his wife's peculiar taste, while she said slowly, — " May I ask you a question, dear?" " Of course you may." " Shall you care if Jo does marry Mr. Bhaer?" "Oh, that's the trouble, is it? I thought there was My Lord and Lady 577 something in the dimple that did n't suit you. Not being a dog in the manger, but the happiest fellow alive, I assure you I can dance at Jo's wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling? " Amy looked up at him, and was satisfied ; her last little jealous fear vanished forever, and she thanked him, with a face full of love and confidence. " I wish we could do something for that capital old Professor. Could n'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. " Jo would find us out, and spoil it all ; she is very proud of him, just as he is, and said yesterday that she thought poverty was a beautiful thing." " Bless her dear heart ! she won't think so when she has a literary husband, and a dozen little professors and pro- fessorins to support. We won't interfere now, but watch our chance, and do them a good turn in spite of them- selves. I owe Jo for a part of my education, and she believes in people's paying their honest debts, so I '11 get round her in that way." " How delightful it is to be able to help others, is n't it? That was always one of my dreams, to have the power of giving freely ; and, thanks to you, the dream has come true." " Ah ! we '11 do quantities of good, won't we ? There's one sort of poverty that I particularly like to help. Out- and-out beggars get taken care of, but poor gentlefolks fare badly, because they won't ask, and people don't dare to offer charity ; yet there are a thousand ways of helping them, if one only knows how to do it so delicately that it does not offend. I must say, I like to serve a decayed 37 578 Little Women gentleman better than a blarneying beggar ; I suppose it's wrong, but I do, though it is harder." " Because it takes a gentleman to do it," added the other member of the domestic admiration society. " Thank you, I 'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment. But I was going to say that while I was dawdling about abroad, I saw a good many talented young fellows making all sorts of sacrifices, and enduring real hardships, that they might realize their dreams. Splendid fellows, some of them, working like heroes, pooi and friendless, but so full of courage, patience, and ambi- tion, 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 have n't, it 's a pleasure to comfort the poor souls, and keep them from despair when they find it out." " Yes, indeed ; and there 's another class who can't ask, and who suffer in silence. I know something of it, for I belonged to it before you made a princess of me, as the king does the beggar-maid in the old story. Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth, health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me ; and whenever I see girls struggling along, as we used to do, I want to put out my hand and help them, as I was helped." " And so you shall, like an angel as you are ! " cried Laurie, resolving, with a glow of philanthropic zeal, to found and endow an institution for the express benefit of young women with artistic tendencies. " Rich people have no right to sit down and enjoy themselves, or let their money accumulate for others to waste. It 's not Daisy and Demi 579 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 '11 have a good time ourselves, and add an extra relish to our own pleasure by giving other people a generous taste. Will you be a little Dorcas, going about emptying a big basket of comforts, and filling it up with good deeds ? " " With all my heart, if you will be a brave St. Martin, stopping, as you ride gallantly through the world, to share your cloak with the beggar." " It 's a bargain, and we shall get the best of it ! " So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again, feeling that their pleasant- home was more home-like because they hoped to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them, if they smoothed rough ways for other feet, and feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blest than they. CHAPTER XLV DAISY AND DEMI I CANNOT feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March family, without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it. Daisy and Demi had now arrived at years of discretion ; for in this fast age babies of three or four assert their rights, and get them, too, which is more than many of their elders do. If 58o Little Women there ever were a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoilt by adoration, it was these prattling Brookes. Of course they were the most remarkable children ever born, as will be shown when I mention that they walked at eight months, talked fluently at twelve months, and at two years they took their places at table, and behaved with a propriety which charmed all beholders. At three, Daisy demanded a " needier," and actually made a bag with four stitches in it; she likewise set up house-keeping in the sideboard, and managed a microscopic cooking-stove with a skill that brought tears of pride to Hannah's eyes, while Demi learned his letters with his grandfather, who invented a new mode of teaching the alphabet by forming the letters with his arms and legs, thus uniting gymnas- tics for head and heels. The boy early developed a mechanical genius which delighted his father and distracted his mother, for he tried to imitate every machine he saw, and kept the nursery in a chaotic condition, with his " sewin-sheen," — a mysterious structure of string, chairs, clothes-pins, and spools, for wheels to go " wound and wound ; " also a basket hung over the back of a big chair, in which he vainly tried to hoist his too confiding sister, who, with femi- nine devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued, when the young inventor indignantly remarked, "Why, marmar, dat 's my lellywaiter, and me 's trying to pull her up." Though utterly unlike in character, the twins got on remarkably well together, and seldom quarrelled more than thrice a day. Of course, Demi tyrannized over Daisy, and gallantly defended her from every other aggressor; while Daisy made a galley-slave of herself, and adored her brother as the one perfect being in the Daisy and Demi 581 world. A rosy, chubby, sunshiny httle soul was Daisy, who found her way to everybody's heart, and nestled there. One of the captivating children, who seem made to be kissed and cuddled, adorned and adored like little goddesses, and produced for general approval on all festive occasions. Her small virtues were so sweet that she would have been quite angelic if a few small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully human. It was all fair weather in her world, and every morning she scrambled up to the window in her little night-gown to look out, and say, no matter whether it rained or shone, " Oh, pitty day, oh, pitty day ! " Every one was a friend, and she offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly that the most inveterate bachelor relented, and baby-lovers became faithful worshippers. " Me loves evvybody," she once said, opening her arms, with her spoon in one hand, and her mug in the other, as if eager to embrace and nourish the whole world. As she grew, her mother began to feel that the Dove- cote would be blest by the presence of an inmate as serene and loving as that which had helped to make the old house home, and to pray that she might be spared a loss like that which had lately taught them how long they had entertained an angel unawares. Her grandfather often called her " Beth," and her grandmother watched over her with untiring devotion, as if trying to atone for some past mistake, which no eye but her own could see. Demi, like a true Yankee, was of an inquiring turn, wanting to know everything, and often getting much disturbed because he could not get satisfactory answers to his perpetual " What for ? " He also possessed a philosophic bent, to the great 582 Little Women delight of his grandfather, who used to hold Socratic conversations with him, in which the precocious pupil occasionally posed his teacher, to the undisguised satis- faction of the womenfolk. " What makes my legs go, dranpa ? " asked the young philosopher, surveying those active portions of his frame with a meditative air, while resting after a go-to-bed frolic one night. "It's your little mind, Demi," replied the sage, stroking the yellow head respectfully. " What is a little mine ? " " It is something which makes your body move, as the spring made the wheels go in my watch when I showed it to you." " Open me ; I want to see it go wound." " I can't do that any more than you could open the watch. God winds you up, and you go till He stops you." " Does I ? " and Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in the new thought. " Is I wounded up like the watch ? " " Yes ; but I can't show you how ; for it is done when we don't see." Demi felt of his back, as if expecting to find it like that of the watch, and then gravely remarked, — " I dess Dod does it when I 's asleep." A careful explanation followed, to which he listened so attentively that his anxious grandmother said, — " My dear, do you think it wise to talk about such things to that baby ? He 's getting great bumps over his eyes, and learning to ask the most unanswerable questions." • " If he is old enough to ask the questions he is old enough to receive true answers. I am not putting the Daisy and Demi 583 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 1 have said to him. Now, Demi, tell me where you keep your mind ? " If the boy had replied like Alcibiades, "By the gods, Socrates, I cannot tell," his grandfather would not have been surprised ; but when, after standing a moment on one leg, like a meditative young stork, he answered, in a tone of calm conviction, " In my little belly," the old gentleman could only join in grandma's laugh, and dis- miss the class in metaphysics. There might have been cause for maternal anxiety, if Demi had not given convincing proofs that he was a true boy, as well as a budding philosopher; for, often, after a discussion which caused Hannah to prophesy, with omi- nous 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 dis- tract and delight their parents' souls. Meg made many moral rules, and tried to keep them ; but what mother was ever proof against the winning wiles, the ingenious evasions, or the tranquil audacity of the miniature men and women who so early show themselves accomplished Artful Dodgers? " No more raisins, Demi, they 'II make you sick," says mamma to the young person who offers his services in the kitchen with unfailing regularity on plum-pudding day. " Me likes to be sick." " I don't want to have you, so run away and help Daisy make patty-cakes." He reluctantly departs, but his wrongs weigh upon his spirit; and, by and by, when an opportunity comes to redress them, he outwits mamma by a shrewd bargain. 584 Little Women " Now you have been good children, and I '11 play any- thing you like," says Meg, as she leads her assistant cooks upstairs, when the pudding is safely bouncing in the pot. "Truly, marmar?" asks Demi, with a brilliant idea in his well-powdered head. "Yes, truly; anything you say," replies the short- sighted parent, preparing herself to sing " The Three Little Kittens " half a dozen times over, or to take her family to " Buy a penny bun," regardless of wind or limb. But Demi corners her by the cool reply, — " Then we '11 go and eat up all the raisins." Aunt Dodo was chief playmate and confidante of both children, and the trio turned the little house topsy-turvy. Aunt Amy was as yet only a name to them, Aunt Beth soon faded into a pleasantly vague memory, but Aunt Dodo was a living reality, and they made the most of her, for which compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bhaer came, Jo neglected her playfellows, and dis- may and desolation fell upon their little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses, lost her best customer and became bankrupt; Demi, with infantile penetration, soon discovered that Dodo liked to play with "the bear-man" better than she did with him; but, though hurt, he concealed his anguish, for he had n't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate-drops in his waistcoat-pocket, and a watch that could be taken out of its case and freely shaken by ardent admirers. Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes; but Demi did n't see it in that light, and continued to patronize the " bear-man " with pen sive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulder her throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts treasures of sur- passing worth. Daisy and Demi 585 Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard ; but this counterfeit philopro- genitiveness sits uneasily upon them, and does not de- ceive anybody a particle. Mr. Bhaer's devotion was sincere, however likewise effective, — for honesty is the best policy in love as in law ; he was one of the men who are at home with children, and looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one. His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day, but evening seldom failed to bring him out to see — well, he always asked for Mr. March, so I suppose he was the attraction. The excellent papa labored under the delusion that he was, and revelled in long discussions with the kindred spirit, till a chance re- mark of his more observing grandson suddenly enlight- ened him. Mr. Bhaer came in one evening to pause on the thresh- old of the study, astonished by the spectacle that met his eye. Prone upon the floor lay Mr. March, with his re- spectable legs in the air, and beside him, likewise prone, was Demi, trying to imitate the attitude with his own short, scarlet-stockinged legs, both grovellers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a scandalized face, — " Father, father, here 's the Professor ! " Down went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the preceptor said, with undisturbed dignity, — " Good evening, Mr. Bhaer. Excuse me for a moment ; we are just finishing our lesson. Now, Demi, make the letter and tell its name." " I knows him ! " and, after a few convulsive efforts, the red legs took the shape of a pair of compasses, and 586 Little Women the intelligent pupil triumphantly shouted, " It 's a We, dranpa, it 's a We ! " " He 's a born Waller," laughed Jo, as her parent gath- ered himself up, and her nephew tried to stand on his head, as the only mode of expressing his satisfaction that school was over, "What have you been at to-day, biibchen?" asked Mr. Bhacr, picking up the gymnast. " Me went to see little Mary." " And what did you there?" " I kissed her," began Demi, with artless frankness. " Prut ! thou beginnest early. What did the little Mary say to that? " asked Mr. Bhacr, continuing to confess the young sinner, who stood upon his knee, exploring the waistcoat-pocket. "Oh, she liked it, and she kissed me, and I liked it. Don't little boys like little girls? " added Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of bland satisfaction. " You precocious chick ! Who put that into your head?" said Jo, enjoying the innocent revelations as much as the Professor. " 'T is n't in mine head ; it 's in mine mouf," answered literal Demi, putting out his tongue, with a chocolate- drop on it, thinking she alluded to confectionery, not ideas. " Thou shouldst save some for the little friend : sweets to the sweet, mannling ; " and Mr. Bhaer offered Jo some, with a look that made her wonder if chocolate was not the nectar drunk by the gods. Demi also saw the smile, was impressed by it, and artlessly inquired, — " Do great boys like great girls, too, 'Fessor?" Like young Washington, Mr. Bhaer " could n't tell a lie ; " so he gave the somewhat vague reply that he be- lieved they did sometimes, in a tone that made Mr. March Under the Umbrella 587 put down his clothes-brush, glance at Jo's retiring face, and then sink into his chair, looking as if the " precocious chick " had put an idea into his head that was both sweet and sour. Why Dodo, when she caught him in the china-closet half an hour afterward, nearly squeezed the breath out of his little body with a tender embrace, instead of shak- ing 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. CHAPTER XLVI UNDER THE UMBRELLA WHILE Laurie and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets, as they set their house in order, and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bhaer and Jo were enjoying promenades of a differ- ent sort, along muddy roads and sodden fields. " I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don't know why I should give it up, just because I often happen to meet the Professor on his way out," said Jo to herself, after two or three encounters ; for, though there were two paths to Meg's, which ever one she took she was sure to meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly, and never seemed to see her till quite close, when he would look as if his short- sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Meg's, he always had something for the babies; if her face 588 Little Women was turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river, and was just about returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls. Under the circumstances, what could Jo do but greet him civilly, and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits, she concealed her weariness with perfect skill, and took care that there should be coffee for supper, " as Friedrich — I mean Mr. Bhaer — does n't like tea." By the second week, every one knew perfectly well what was going on, yet every one tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in Jo's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise ; and no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bhaer, while talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons in love. Jo could n'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 ap- pearance, or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's hat on the Marchs' hall-table nearly every evening. But he exulted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Jo a piece of plate, with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat-of-arms. For a fortnight, the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity; then he stayed away for three Under the Umbrella 589 whole days, and made no sign, — a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Jo to become pen- sive, at first, and then — alas for romance ! — very cross. "Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It 's nothing to me, of course ; but I should think he would have come and bid us good-by, like a gentleman," she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for the customary walk, one dull afternoon. " You 'd better take the little umbrella, dear; it looks like rain," said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact. "Yes, Marmee ; do you want anything in town? I 've got to run in and get some paper," returned Jo, pulHng out the bow under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother. " Yes ; I want some twilled silesia, a paper of number nine needles, and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on, and something warm under your cloak? " " I believe so," answered Jo absently. " If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man," added Mrs. March. Jo heard tJiat, 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 have n't any mothers to help them through their troubles? " The dry-goods stores were not down among the counting-houses, banks, and wholesale warerooms, where gentlemen most do congregate ; but Jo found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loi- 590 Little Women tering along as if waiting for some one, examining engineering instruments in one window and samples of wool in another, with most unfeminine interest ; tumbling over barrels, being half-smothered by descend- ing bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered " how the deuce she got there," A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons ; for the drops continued to fall, and, being a woman as well as a lover, she felt that, though it was too late to save her heart, she might her bonnet. Now she remembered the little umbrella, which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off; but regret was unavailing, and nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to a drenching. She looked up at the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black, forward along the muddy street, then one long, lingering look behind, at a certain grimy warehouse, with " Hoffmann, Swartz, & Co." over the door, and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air, — ■ " It serves me right ! What business had I to put on all my best things and come philandering down here, hoping to see the Professor? Jo, I 'm ashamed of you ! No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella, or find out where he is, from his friends. You shall trudge away, and do your errands in the rain ; and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it 's no more than you deserve. Now then ! " With that she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck, and precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman, who said, " I beg pardon, ma'am," and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Jo righted herself, spread her handkerchief over the devoted rib- Under the Umbrella 591 bons, and, putting temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the ankles, and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a some- what dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet, attracted her attention ; and, looking up, she saw Mr. Bhaer looking down. " I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse-noses, and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my friend?" " I 'm shopping." Mr. Bhaer smiled, as he glanced from the pickle-fac- tory on one side, to the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other; but he only said politely, — " You haf no umbrella. May I go also, and take for you the bundles? " " Yes, thank you." Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she won- dered what he thought of her; but she did n't care, for in a minute she found herself walking away arm-in-arm with her Professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day. " We thought you had gone," said Jo hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet was n't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly. " Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been so heavenly kind to me? " he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily, — "No, / did n't; I knew you were busy about your own afifairs, but we rather missed you, — father and mother especially." 592 Little Women "And you?" " I 'm always glad to see you, sir." In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Jo made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the Professor, for his smile vanished, as he said gravely, — " I thank you, and come one time more before I go." " You are going, then? " " I haf no longer any business here ; it is done." " Successfully, I hope? " said Jo, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his. " I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make my bread and gif myjunglings much help." " Tell me, please ! I like to know all about the — the boys," said Jo eagerly. " That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in a college, where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way smooth for Franz and Emil. For this I should be grateful, should I not?" " Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like, and be able to see you often, and the boys ! " cried Jo, clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help be- traying. " Ah ! but we shall not meet often, I fear ; this place is at the West." " So far away ! " and Jo left her skirts to their fate, as if it did n't matter now what became of her clothes or herself. Mr. Bhaer could read several languages, but he had not learned to read women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Jo pretty well, and was, therefore, much Under the Umbrella 593 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 de- light; but when he asked if she missed him, she gave such a chilly, formal reply that despair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clapped her hands: was the joy all for the boys? Then, on hearing his destination, she said, " So far away! " in a tone of despair that lifted him on to a pinnacle of hope ; but the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like one entirely absorbed in the matter, — " Here's the place for my errands; will you come in? It won't take long." Jo rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and despatch with which she would accomplish the business. But, owing to the flutter she was in, everything went amiss ; she upset the tray of needles, forgot the silesia was to be " twilled " till it was cut off, gave the wrong change, and covered herself with confu- sion 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 occa- sions women, like dreams, go by contraries. When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect, and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it, on the whole. " Should we not do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and haf a farewell feast to-night if I go for my 38 594 Little Women last call at your so pleasant home? " he asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers. " What will we buy? " said Jo, ignoring the latter part of his speech, and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went in. " May they haf oranges and figs?" asked Mr. Bhaer, with a paternal air. " They eat them when they can get them." " Do you care for nuts? " " Like a squirrel." "Hamburg grapes; yes, we shall surely drink to the Fatherland in those?" Jo frowned upon that piece of extravagance, and asked why he did n't buy a frail of dates, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds, and dene with it? Whereat Mr. Bhaer confiscated her purse, produced his own, and fin- ished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies, and a pretty jar of honey, to be regarded in the light of a demijohn. Then, distorting his pockets with the knobby bundles, and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella, and they travelled on again. " Miss Marsch, I haf a great favor to ask of you," began the Professor, after a moist promenade of half a block. *' Yes, sir ; " and Jo's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it. " I am bold to say it in spite of the rain, because so short a time remains to me." " Yes, sir ; " and Jo nearly crushed the small flower- pot with the sudden squeeze she gave it. " I wish to get a little dress for my Tina, and I am too stupid to go alone. Will you kindly gif me a word of taste and help ? " Under the Umbrella 595 "Yes, sir; " and Jo felt as calm and cool, all of a sud- den, as if she had stepped into a refrigerator. " Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother, she is so poor and sick, and the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother." " I '11 do it with pleasure, Mr. Bhaer. I 'm going very fast and he 's getting dearer every minute," added Jo to herself; then, with a mental shake, she entered into the business with an energy which was pleasant to behold. Mr. Bhaer left it all to her, so she chose a pretty gown for Tina, and then ordered out the shawls. The clerk, being a married man, condescended to take an interest in the couple, who appeared to be shopping for their family. " Your lady may prefer this; it's a superior article, a most desirable color, quite chaste and genteel," he said, shaking out a comfortable gray shawl, and throwing it over Jo's shoulders. " Does this suit you, Mr. Bhaer? " she asked, turning her back to him, and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face. " Excellently well ; we will haf it," answered the Pro- fessor, smiling to himself as he paid for it, while Jo continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain-hunter. " Now shall we go home?" he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to him. " Yes ; it 's late, and I 'm so tired." Jo's voice was more pathetic than she knew ; for now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came out, the world grew muddy and miserable again, and for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached, and that her heart was colder than the former, 59^ Little Women 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 omni- bus with such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged. " This is not our omniboos," said the Professor, waving the loaded vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers. " I beg your pardon, I did n't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can walk. I 'm used to plodding in the mud," returned Jo, winking hard, because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes. Mr. Bhaer saw the drops on her cheeks, though she turned her head away; the sight seemed to touch him very much, for, suddenly stooping down, he asked in a tone that meant a great deal, — " Heart's dearest, why do you cry? " Now, if Jo had not been new to this sort of thing she would have said she was n't crying, had a cold in her head, or told any other feminine fib proper to the occa- sion; instead of which that undignified creature an- swered, with an irrepressible sob, — " Because you are going away." " Ach, mein Gott, that is so good ! " cried Mr. Bhaer, managing to clasp his hands in spite of th^ umbrella and the bundles. "Jo, I haf nothing but much love to gif you ; I came to see if you could care for it, and I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz? " he added, all in one breath. " Oh, yes ! " said Jo ; and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his arm, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy Fassers-by probably t/ioiitilit them a pair of harmless lunatics Page 597 Under the Umbrella 597 she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried it. It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for, even if he had desired to do so, Mr. Bhaer could not go down upon his knees, on account of the mud ; neither could he offer Jo his hand, except figuratively, for both were full; much less could he indulge in tender demonstra- tions 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 tJien, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately, Mr. Bhaer considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more " Jove-like " than ever, though his hat-brim was quite limp with the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders (for he held the umbrella all over Jo), and every finger of his gloves needed mending. Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a 'bus, and strolled leisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss ; while Jo trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always 598 Little Women 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 fol- lowed her impetuous " Oh, yes ! " were not of a coherent or reportable character. "Friedrich, why did n't you — " " Ah, heaven, she gifs me the name that no one speaks since Minna died ! " cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight. "I always call you so to myself — I forgot; but I won't, unless you like it." "Like it? it is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say ' thou,' also, and I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine." " Is n't ' thou ' a little sentimental ? " asked Jo, privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable. " Sentimental ? Yes. Thank Gott, we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep ourselves young mit it. Your English 'you' is so cold, say 'thou,' heart's dearest, it means so much to me," pleaded Mr. Bhaer, more like a romantic student than a grave professor. " Well, then, why did n't thou tell me all this sooner ? " asked Jo bashfully. " Now I shall haf to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will, because thou must take care of it hereafter. See, then, my Jo, — ah, the dear, funny little name ! — I had a wish to tell something the day I said good-by, in New York ; but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou have said 'Yes,' then, if I had spoken?" " I don't know; I 'm afraid not, for I did n't have any heart just then." " Prut ! that I do not believe. It was asleep till the fairy prince came through the wood, and waked it up. Under the Umbrella 599 Ah, well, ' Die erste Liebe ist die bestc ; ' but that 1 should not expect." "Yes, the first love is the best; so be contented, for 1 never had another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy," said Jo, anxious to correct the Professor's mistake. " Good ! then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I haf waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, Professorin." " I like that," cried Jo, delighted with her new name. " Now tell me what brought you, at last, just when I most wanted you ? " "This; " and Mr. Bhaer took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat-pocket. Jo unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her sending it an occasional attempt. " How could that bring you? " she asked, wondering what he meant. " I found it by chance ; I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him ; I will see that you go not in the wet." Jo obeyed, and hastily skimmed through the lines which she had christened — "IN THE GARRET. " Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago. By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side, With faded ribbons, brave and gay When fastened there, with childish pride, Long ago, on a rainy day. 6oo Little Women Four little names, one on each lid, Carved out by a boyish hand, And underneath there lieth hid Histories of the happy band Once playing here, and pausing oft To hear the sweet refrain, That came and went on the roof aloft, In the falling summer rain. *• * Meg ' on the first lid, smooth and fair, I look in with loving eyes. For folded here, with well-known care, A goodly gathering lies. The record of a peaceful life, — Gifts to gentle child and girl, A bridal gown, lines to a wife, A tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, For all are carried away, In their old age, to join again In another small Meg's play. Ah, happy mother! well I know You hear, like a sweet refrain. Lullabies ever soft and low In the falling summer rain. *"Jo ' on the next lid, scratched and worn, And within a motley store Of headless dolls, of school-books torn. Birds and beasts that speak no more ; Spoils brought home from the fairy ground Only trod by youthful feet. Dreams of a future never found, Memories of a past still sweet; Half-writ poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold. Diaries of a wilful child. Hints of a woman early old ; A woman in a lonely home. Hearing, like a sad refrain, — ' Be worthy love, and love will come,* In the falling summer rain. Under the Umbrella 60 1 *• My Beth ! the dust is always swept From the lid that bears your name. As if by loving eyes that wept, By careful hands that often came. Death canonized for us one saint, Ever less human than divine, And still we lay, with tender plaint, Relics in this household shrine, — The silver bell, so seldom rung, The little cap which last she wore, The fair, dead Catherine that hung By angels borne above her door; The songs she sang, without lament, In her prison-house of pain, Forever are they sweetly blent With the falling summer rain. " Upon the last lid's polished field — Legend now both fair and true — A gallant knight bears on his shield, 'Amy,' in letters gold and blue. Within lie snoods that bound her hair, Slippers that have danced their last, Faded flowers laid by with care, Fans whose airy toils are past ; Gay valentines, all ardent flames, Trifles that have borne their part In girlish hopes and fears and shames, — = The record of a maiden heart Now learning fairer, truer spells. Hearing, like a blithe refrain, The silver sound of bridal bells In the falling summer rain. ** Four little chests all in a row. Dim with dust, and worn by time, Four women, taught by weal and woe To love and labor in their prime. Four sisters, parted for an hour, None lost, one only gone before, Made by love's immortal power. Nearest and dearest evermore. 6o2 Little Women Oh, when these hidden stores of our* Lie open to the Father's sight, May they be rich in golden hours, Deeds that show fairer for the Hght, Lives whose brave music long shall ring, Like a spirit-stirring strain, Souls that shall gladly soar and sing In the long sunshine after rain. "J. M." " It 's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it, one day when I was very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag-bag. I never thought it would go where it could tell tales," said Jo, tearing up the verses the Professor had treasured so long. " Let it go, it has done its duty, and I will haf a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets," said Mr. Bhaer, with a smile, as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. " Yes," he added earnestly, " I read that, and I think to myself. She has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I haf a heart full, full for her ; shall I not go and say, ' If this is not too poor a thing to gif for what I shall hope to receive, take it in Gott's name ' ? " " And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed," whispered Jo. " I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said, ' I will haf her if I die for it,' and so I will ! " cried Mr. Bhaer, with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down. Jo thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her knight, though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array. "What made you stay away so long?" she asked Under the Umbrella 603 presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightfiil answers that she could not keep silent. " It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could haf a pros- pect of one to give you, after much time, perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to gif up so much for a poor old fellow, who has no fortune but a little learning? " "I'm glad you are poor; I couldn't bear a rich husband," said Jo decidedly, adding, in a softer tone, " Don't fear poverty ; I 've known it long enough to lose my dread, and be happy working for those I love ; and don't call yourself old, — forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy! " The Professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief, if he could have got at it; as he couldn't, Jo wiped his eyes for him, and said, laughing, as she took away a bundle or two, — " I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I 'm out of my sphere now, for woman's special mission is sup- posed 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 '11 never go," she added resolutely, as he tried to reclaim his load. " We shall see. Haf you patience to wait a long time, Jo? I must go away and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because, even for you, I may not break my word to Minna. Can you forgif that, and be happy while we hope and wait? " " Yes, I know I can ; for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty, also, and my work. I could n't enjoy myself if I neg- lected them even for you,, so there 's no need of hurry or 6o4 Little Women impatience. You can do your part out West, I can do mine here, and both be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills." " Ah ! thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor, quite overcome. 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 in- deed, 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 re- ceive them, with a glad " Welcome home ! " Jo led her lover in, and shut the door. CHAPTER XLVII HARVEST TIME FOR a year Jo and her Professor worked and waited, hoped and loved, met occasionally, and wrote such voluminous letters that the rise in the price of paper was accounted for, Laurie said. The second year began rather soberly, for their pros- pects 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 Harvest Time 605 they had cause for rejoicing, for she had left Plumfield to Jo, which made all sorts of joyful things possible, "It's a fine old place, and will bring a handsome sum ; for of course you intend to sell it," said Laurie, as they were all talking the matter over, some weeks later. " No, I don't," was Jo 's decided answer, as she petted the fat poodle, whom she had adopted, out of respect to his former mistress. "You don't mean to live there?" " Yes, I do." "But, my dear girl, it's an immense house, and will take a power of money to keep it in order. The garden and orchard alone need two or three men, and farming is n't in Bhaer's line, I take it." " He'll try his hand at it there, if I propose it." "And you expect to live on the produce of the place? Well, that sounds paradisiacal, but you '11 find it des- perate hard work." " The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one ; " and Jo laughed. " Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma'am?" " Boys. I want to open a school for little lads, — a good, happy, homelike school, with me to take care of them, and Fritz to teach them." " There 's a truly Joian plan for you ! Is n't that just like her?" cried Laurie, appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised as he. " I Hke it," said Mrs. March decidedly. " So do I," added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance for trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth. " It will be an immense care for Jo," said Meg, strok- ing the head of her one all-absorbing son. 6o6 Little Women "Jo can do it, and be happy in it. It's a splendid idea. Tell us all about it," cried Mr. Laurence, who had been longing to lend the lovers a hand, but knew that they would refuse his help. " I knew you 'd stand by me, sir. Amy does too — I see it in her eyes, though she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before she speaks. Now, my dear peo- ple," continued Jo earnestly, "just understand that this is n'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 had n't any mothers, and take care of them, and make life jolly for them before it was too late. I see so many going to ruin, for want of help at the right minute ; I love so to do anything for them ; I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize with their troubles, and, oh, I should so like to be a mother to them ! " Mrs. March held outlier hand to Jo, who took it, smil- ing, with tears in her eyes, and went on in the old enthu- siastic way, which they had not seen for a long while. " I told my plan to Fritz once, and he said it was just what he would like, and agreed to try it when we got rich. Bless his dear heart, he 's been doing it all his life, — helping poor boys, I mean, not getting rich ; that he '11 never be ; money does n'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, /'/« 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, is n't it, sir? Then Harvest Time 607 Fritz can train and teach in his own way, and father wil] help him. I can feed and nurse and pet and scold them ; and mother will be my stand-by. I 've always longed for lots of boys, and never had enough; now I can fill the house full, and revel in the little dears to my heart's content. Think what luxury, — Plumfield my own, and a wilderness of boys to enjoy it with me ! " As Jo waved her hands, and gave a sigh of rapture, the family went off into a gale of merriment, and Mr. Laurence laughed till they thought he 'd have an apoplectic fit. " I don't see anything funny," she said gravely, when she could be heard. " Nothing could be more natural or proper than for my Professor to open a school, and for me to prefer to reside on my own estate." " She is putting on airs already," said Laurie, who regarded the idea in the light of a capital joke. " But may I inquire how you intend to support the establish- ment? If all the pupils are little ragamuffins, I 'm afraid your crop won't be profitable in a worldly sense, Mrs. Bhaer." " Now don't be a wet-blanket, Teddy. Of course I shall have rich pupils, also, — perhaps begin with such altogether ; then, when I 've got a start, I can take a rag- amuffin 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 one3 pushed forward, when it 's real cruelty. Some are naughty through mismanagement or neglect, and some lose their mothers. Besides, the best have to get through the hobbledehoy age, and that 's the very time they need most patience and kindness. People laugh at them, and hustle them about, try to keep them out of sight, and expect them to turn, all at once, from pretty children into fine young men. They don't complain much, — plucky 6o8 Little Women little souls, — but they feel it. I 've been through some- thing 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 have n't I brought up one boy to be a pride and honor to his family? " " I '11 testify that you tried to do it," said Laurie, with a grateful look. " And I 've succeeded beyond my hopes ; for here you are, a steady, sensible business man, doing heaps of good with your money, and laying up the blessings of the poor, instead of dollars. But you are not merely a business man: you love good and beautiful things, enjoy them yourself, and let others go halves, as you always did in the old times. I am proud of you, Teddy, for you get better every year, and every one feels it, though you won't let them say so. Yes, and when I have my flock, I '11 just point to you, and say, * There 's your model, my lads.' " Poor Laurie did n't know where to look ; for, man though he was, something of the old bashfulness came over him as this burst of praise made all faces turn approvingly upon him. " I say, Jo, that 's rather too much," he began, just in his old boyish way. " You have all done more for me than I can ever thank you for, except by doing my best not to disappoint you. You have rather cast me off lately, Jo, but I 've had the best of help, nevertheless ; so, if I 've got on at all, you may thank these two for it ; and he laid one hand gently on his grandfather's white head, the other on Amy's golden one, for the three were never far apart." " I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world ! " burst out Jo, who was in an unusually Harvest Time 609 uplifted frame of mind just then. " When I have one of my own, I hope it will be as happy as the three I know and love the best. If John and my Fritz were only here, it would be quite a little heaven on earth," she added more quietly. And that night, when she went to her room, after a blissful evening of family counsels, hopes, and plans, her heart was so full of happiness that she could only calm it by kneeling beside the empty bed always near her own, and thinking tender thoughts of Beth. It was a very astonishing year altogether, for things seemed to happen in an unusually rapid and delightful manner. Almost before she knew where she was, Jo found herself married and settled at Plumfield. Then a family of six or seven boys sprung up like mushrooms, and flourished surprisingly, poor boys as well as rich ; for Mr. Laurence was continually finding some touching case of destitution, and begging the Bhaers to take pity on the child, and he would gladly pay a trifle for its support. In this way the sly old gentleman got round proud Jo, and furnished her with the style of boy in which she most delighted. Of course it was up-hill work at first, and Jo made queer mistakes ; but the wise Professor steered her safely into calmer waters, and the most rampant ragamuffin was con- quered in the end. How Jo did enjoy her " wilderness of boys," and how poor, dear Aunt March would have la- mented had she been there to see the sacred precincts of prim, well-ordered Plumfield overrun with Toms, Dicks, and Harrys ! There was a sort of poetic justice about it, after all, for the old lady had been the terror of the boys for miles round ; and now the exiles feasted freely on for- bidden plums, kicked up the gravel with profane boots un- reproved, and played cricket in the big field where the 39 6io Little Women 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 appro- priate to its inhabitants. It never was a fashionable school, and the Professor did not lay up a fortune ; but it was just what Jo intended it to be, — "a happy, homelike place for boys, who needed teaching, care, and kindness." Every room in the big house was soon full; every little plot in the garden soon had its owner ; a regular menagerie appeared in barn and shed, for pet animals were allowed ; and, three times a day, Jo smiled at her Fritz from the head of a long table lined on either side with rows of happy young faces, which all turned to her with affectionate eyes, confiding words, and grateful hearts, full of love for " Mother Bhaer." She had boys enough now, and did not tire of them, though they were not angels, by any means, and some of them caused both Professor and Professorin much trouble and anxiety. But her faith in the good spot which exists in the heart of the naughtiest, sauciest, most tantalizing little ragamufiin gave her patience, skill, and, in time, success ; for no mortal boy could hold out long with Father Bhaer shining on him as benevolently as the sun, and Mother Bhaer forgiving him seventy times seven. Very precious to Jo was the friendship of the lads ; their penitent sniffs and whispers after wrong-doing; their droll or touching little confidences ; their pleasant enthusiasms, hopes, and plans ; even their misfortunes, for they only endeared them lo 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,' Harvest Time 6ii though some people predicted that his admission would ruin the school. Yes ; Jo was a very happy woman there, in spite of hard work, much anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She en- joyed it heartily, and found the applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of the world ; for now ehe 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 tem- per as well as his mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts ; but they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough nurses loved and served them well. There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking; for then the Marches, Laurences, Brookes, and Bhaers turned out in full force, and made a day of it. Five years after Jo's wedding, one of these fruitful festivals occurred, — a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise, and the blood dance healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore its holiday attire ; golden-rod and asters fringed the mossy walls; grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast ; squirrels were busy with their small harvesting; birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane ; and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake. Everybody was there ; everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled down ; everybody declared that there never had been such a perfect day or such a jolly 6i2 Little Women set to enjoy it ; and every one gave themselves up tc the simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no such things as care or sorrow in the world. Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley, and Columella to Mr. Laurence, while enjoying — " The gentle apple's winey juice." The Professor charged up and down the green aisles like a stout Teutonic knight, with a pole for a lance, leading on the boys, who made a hook and ladder com- pany of themselves, and performed wonders in the way of ground and lofty tumbling. Laurie devoted himself to the little ones, rode his small daughter in a bushel- basket, took Daisy up among the birds' nests, and kept adventurous Rob from breaking his neck. Mrs. March and Meg sat among the apple piles like a pair of Po- monas, 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 be- side him. Jo was in her element that day, and rushed about, with her gown pinned up, her hat anywhere but on her head, and her baby tucked under her arm, ready for any lively adventure which might turn up. Little Teddy bore a charmed life, for nothing ever happened to him, and Jo never felt any anxiety when he was whisked up into a tree by one lad, galloped off on the back of an- other, 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 Harvest Time 613 back with a hearty welcome, for Jo loved her babies tenderly. At four o'clock a lull took place, and baskets re- mained 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 crown- ing 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 refresh- ment as they liked, — freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul. They availed themselves of the rare privilege to the fullest extent, for some tried the pleasing experiment of drinking milk while standing on their heads, others lent a charm to leap-frog by eating pie in the pauses of the game, cookies were sown broadcast over the field, and apple-turnovers roosted in the trees like a new style of bird. The little girls had a private tea-party, and Ted roved among the edibles at his own sweet will. When no one could eat any more, the Professor pro- posed the first regular toast, which was always drunk at such times, —"Aunt March, God bless her ! " A toast heartily given by the good man, who never forgot how much he owed her, and quietly drunk by the boys, who had been taught to keep her memory green. " Now, grandma's sixtieth birthday ! Long life to her, with three times three ! " That was given with a will, as you may well believe ; and the cheering once begun, it was hard to stop it. Everybody's health was proposed, from Mr. Laurence, who was considered their special patron, to the aston- ished guinea-pig, who had strayed from its proper sphere in search of its young master. Demi, as the 6i4 Little Women oldest grandchild, then presented the queen of the day with various gifts, so numerous that they were trans- ported to the festive scene in a wheelbarrow. Funny presents, some of them, but what would have been de- fects 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 hand- k