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Jo's Boys

by Louisa May Alcott · English · Gutenberg #3499 · 561,411 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Jo's Boys

Author: Louisa May Alcott


        
Release date: October 1, 2002 [eBook #3499]
                Most recently updated: March 10, 2018

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3499

Credits: Produced by The Project Gutenberg Alcott Team, and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JO'S BOYS ***




Produced by The Project Gutenberg Alcott Team





JO'S BOYS


By Louisa M. Alcott




     Chapter 1    Ten Years Later
     Chapter 2    Parnassus
     Chapter 3    Jo's Last Scrape
     Chapter 4    Dan
     Chapter 5    Vacation
     Chapter 6    Last Words
     Chapter 7    The Lion and the Lamb
     Chapter 8    Josie Plays Mermaid
     Chapter 9    The Worm Turns
     Chapter 10   Demi Settles
     Chapter 11   Emil's Thanksgiving
     Chapter 12   Dan's Christmas
     Chapter 13   Nat's New Year
     Chapter 14   Plays at Plumfield
     Chapter 15   Waiting
     Chapter 16   In the Tennis-court
     Chapter 17   Among the Maids
     Chapter 18   Class Day
     Chapter 19   White Roses
     Chapter 20   Life for Life
     Chapter 21   Aslauga's Knight
     Chapter 22   Positively Last Appearance




Chapter 1. TEN YEARS LATER

'If anyone had told me what wonderful changes were to take place here in
ten years, I wouldn't have believed it,' said Mrs Jo to Mrs Meg, as they
sat on the piazza at Plumfield one summer day, looking about them with
faces full of pride and pleasure.

'This is the sort of magic that money and kind hearts can work. I am
sure Mr Laurence could have no nobler monument than the college he so
generously endowed; and a home like this will keep Aunt March's memory
green as long as it lasts,' answered Mrs Meg, always glad to praise the
absent.

'We used to believe in fairies, you remember, and plan what we'd ask
for if we could have three wishes. Doesn't it seem as if mine had been
really granted at last? Money, fame, and plenty of the work I love,'
said Mrs Jo, carelessly rumpling up her hair as she clasped her hands
over her head just as she used to do when a girl.

'I have had mine, and Amy is enjoying hers to her heart's content. If
dear Marmee, John, and Beth were here, it would be quite perfect,' added
Meg, with a tender quiver in her voice; for Marmee's place was empty
now.

Jo put her hand on her sister's, and both sat silent for a little while,
surveying the pleasant scene before them with mingled sad and happy
thoughts.

It certainly did look as if magic had been at work, for quiet Plumfield
was transformed into a busy little world. The house seemed more
hospitable than ever, refreshed now with new paint, added wings,
well-kept lawn and garden, and a prosperous air it had not worn when
riotous boys swarmed everywhere and it was rather difficult for the
Bhaers to make both ends meet. On the hill, where kites used to be
flown, stood the fine college which Mr Laurence's munificent legacy had
built. Busy students were going to and fro along the paths once trodden
by childish feet, and many young men and women were enjoying all the
advantages that wealth, wisdom, and benevolence could give them.

Just inside the gates of Plumfield a pretty brown cottage, very like
the Dovecote, nestled among the trees, and on the green slope westward
Laurie's white-pillared mansion glittered in the sunshine; for when the
rapid growth of the city shut in the old house, spoilt Meg's nest, and
dared to put a soap-factory under Mr Laurence's indignant nose, our
friends emigrated to Plumfield, and the great changes began.

These were the pleasant ones; and the loss of the dear old people was
sweetened by the blessings they left behind; so all prospered now in the
little community, and Mr Bhaer as president, and Mr March as chaplain
of the college, saw their long-cherished dream beautifully realized. The
sisters divided the care of the young people among them, each taking
the part that suited her best. Meg was the motherly friend of the young
women, Jo the confidante and defender of all the youths, and Amy the
lady Bountiful who delicately smoothed the way for needy students, and
entertained them all so cordially that it was no wonder they named her
lovely home Mount Parnassus, so full was it of music, beauty, and the
culture hungry young hearts and fancies long for.

The original twelve boys had of course scattered far and wide during
these years, but all that lived still remembered old Plumfield, and came
wandering back from the four quarters of the earth to tell their various
experiences, laugh over the pleasures of the past, and face the duties
of the present with fresh courage; for such home-comings keep hearts
tender and hands helpful with the memories of young and happy days. A
few words will tell the history of each, and then we can go on with the
new chapter of their lives.

Franz was with a merchant kinsman in Hamburg, a man of twenty-six now,
and doing well. Emil was the jolliest tar that ever 'sailed the ocean
blue'. His uncle sent him on a long voyage to disgust him with this
adventurous life; but he came home so delighted with it that it was
plain this was his profession, and the German kinsman gave him a good
chance in his ships; so the lad was happy. Dan was a wanderer still; for
after the geological researches in South America he tried sheep-farming
in Australia, and was now in California looking up mines. Nat was busy
with music at the Conservatory, preparing for a year or two in Germany
to finish him off. Tom was studying medicine and trying to like it.
Jack was in business with his father, bent on getting rich. Dolly was in
college with Stuffy and Ned reading law. Poor little Dick was dead, so
was Billy; and no one could mourn for them, since life would never be
happy, afflicted as they were in mind and body.

Rob and Teddy were called the 'Lion and the Lamb'; for the latter was
as rampant as the king of beasts, and the former as gentle as any sheep
that ever baaed. Mrs Jo called him 'my daughter', and found him the
most dutiful of children, with plenty of manliness underlying the quiet
manners and tender nature. But in Ted she seemed to see all the faults,
whims, aspirations, and fun of her own youth in a new shape. With his
tawny locks always in wild confusion, his long legs and arms, loud
voice, and continual activity, Ted was a prominent figure at Plumfield.
He had his moods of gloom, and fell into the Slough of Despond about
once a week, to be hoisted out by patient Rob or his mother, who
understood when to let him alone and when to shake him up. He was her
pride and joy as well as torment, being a very bright lad for his age,
and so full of all sorts of budding talent, that her maternal mind was
much exercised as to what this remarkable boy would become.

Demi had gone through College with honour, and Mrs Meg had set her heart
on his being a minister--picturing in her fond fancy the first sermon
her dignified young parson would preach, as well as the long, useful,
and honoured life he was to lead. But John, as she called him now,
firmly declined the divinity school, saying he had had enough of books,
and needed to know more of men and the world, and caused the dear woman
much disappointment by deciding to try a journalist's career. It was
a blow; but she knew that young minds cannot be driven, and that
experience is the best teacher; so she let him follow his own
inclinations, still hoping to see him in the pulpit. Aunt Jo raged when
she found that there was to be a reporter in the family, and called him
'Jenkins' on the spot. She liked his literary tendencies, but had reason
to detest official Paul Prys, as we shall see later. Demi knew his own
mind, however, and tranquilly carried out his plans, unmoved by the
tongues of the anxious mammas or the jokes of his mates. Uncle Teddy
encouraged him, and painted a splendid career, mentioning Dickens and
other celebrities who began as reporters and ended as famous novelists
or newspaper men.

The girls were all flourishing. Daisy, as sweet and domestic as ever,
was her mother's comfort and companion. Josie at fourteen was a most
original young person, full of pranks and peculiarities, the latest of
which was a passion for the stage, which caused her quiet mother and
sister much anxiety as well as amusement. Bess had grown into a tall,
beautiful girl looking several years older than she was, with the same
graceful ways and dainty tastes which the little Princess had, and a
rich inheritance of both the father's and mother's gifts, fostered by
every aid love and money could give. But the pride of the community
was naughty Nan; for, like so many restless, wilful children, she
was growing into a woman full of the energy and promise that suddenly
blossoms when the ambitious seeker finds the work she is fitted to do
well. Nan began to study medicine at sixteen, and at twenty was getting
on bravely; for now, thanks to other intelligent women, colleges and
hospitals were open to her. She had never wavered in her purpose from
the childish days when she shocked Daisy in the old willow by saying: 'I
don't want any family to fuss over. I shall have an office, with bottles
and pestle things in it, and drive round and cure folks.' The future
foretold by the little girl the young woman was rapidly bringing to
pass, and finding so much happiness in it that nothing could win her
from the chosen work. Several worthy young gentlemen had tried to make
her change her mind and choose, as Daisy did, 'a nice little house and
family to take care of'. But Nan only laughed, and routed the lovers
by proposing to look at the tongue which spoke of adoration, or
professionally felt the pulse in the manly hand offered for her
acceptance. So all departed but one persistent youth, who was such a
devoted Traddles it was impossible to quench him.

This was Tom, who was as faithful to his child sweetheart as she to
her 'pestle things', and gave a proof of fidelity that touched her very
much. He studied medicine for her sake alone, having no taste for it,
and a decided fancy for a mercantile life. But Nan was firm, and
Tom stoutly kept on, devoutly hoping he might not kill many of his
fellow-beings when he came to practise. They were excellent friends,
however, and caused much amusement to their comrades, by the
vicissitudes of this merry love-chase.

Both were approaching Plumfield on the afternoon when Mrs Meg and Mrs
Jo were talking on the piazza. Not together; for Nan was walking briskly
along the pleasant road alone, thinking over a case that interested her,
and Tom was pegging on behind to overtake her, as if by accident, when
the suburbs of the city were past--a little way of his, which was part
of the joke.

Nan was a handsome girl, with a fresh colour, clear eye, quick smile,
and the self-poised look young women with a purpose always have. She was
simply and sensibly dressed, walked easily, and seemed full of vigour,
with her broad shoulders well back, arms swinging freely, and the
elasticity of youth and health in every motion. The few people she met
turned to look at her, as if it was a pleasant sight to see a hearty,
happy girl walking countryward that lovely day; and the red-faced young
man steaming along behind, hat off and every tight curl wagging with
impatience, evidently agreed with them.

Presently a mild 'Hallo!' was borne upon the breeze, and pausing, with
an effort to look surprised that was an utter failure, Nan said affably:

'Oh, is that you, Tom?'

'Looks like it. Thought you might be walking out today'; and Tom's
jovial face beamed with pleasure.

'You knew it. How is your throat?' asked Nan in her professional tone,
which was always a quencher to undue raptures.

'Throat? Oh, ah! yes, I remember. It is well. The effect of that
prescription was wonderful. I'll never call homoeopathy a humbug again.'

'You were the humbug this time, and so were the unmedicated pellets
I gave you. If sugar or milk can cure diphtheria in this remarkable
manner, I'll make a note of it. O Tom, Tom, will you never be done
playing tricks?'

'O Nan, Nan, will you never be done getting the better of me?' And the
merry pair laughed at one another just as they did in the old times,
which always came back freshly when they went to Plumfield.

'Well, I knew I shouldn't see you for a week if I didn't scare up some
excuse for a call at the office. You are so desperately busy all the
time I never get a word,' explained Tom.

'You ought to be busy too, and above such nonsense. Really, Tom, if you
don't give your mind to your lectures, you'll never get on,' said Nan
soberly.

'I have quite enough of them as it is,' answered Tom with an air of
disgust. 'A fellow must lark a bit after dissecting corpuses all day.
I can't stand it long at a time, though some people seem to enjoy it
immensely.'

'Then why not leave it, and do what suits you better? I always thought
it a foolish thing, you know,' said Nan, with a trace of anxiety in the
keen eyes that searched for signs of illness in a face as ruddy as a
Baldwin apple.

'You know why I chose it, and why I shall stick to it if it kills me.
I may not look delicate, but I've a deep-seated heart complaint, and it
will carry me off sooner or later; for only one doctor in the world can
cure it, and she won't.'

There was an air of pensive resignation about Tom that was both comic
and pathetic; for he was in earnest, and kept on giving hints of this
sort, without the least encouragement.

Nan frowned; but she was used to it, and knew how to treat him.

'She is curing it in the best and only way; but a more refractory
patient never lived. Did you go to that ball, as I directed?'

'I did.'

'And devote yourself to pretty Miss West?'

'Danced with her the whole evening.'

'No impression made on that susceptible organ of yours?'

'Not the slightest. I gaped in her face once, forgot to feed her, and
gave a sigh of relief when I handed her over to her mamma.'

'Repeat the dose as often as possible, and note the symptoms. I predict
that you'll “cry for it” by and by.'

'Never! I'm sure it doesn't suit my constitution.'

'We shall see. Obey orders!' sternly.

'Yes, Doctor,' meekly.

Silence reigned for a moment; then, as if the bone of contention was
forgotten in the pleasant recollections called up by familiar objects,
Nan said suddenly:

'What fun we used to have in that wood! Do you remember how you tumbled
out of the big nut-tree and nearly broke your collar-bones?'

'Don't I! and how you steeped me in wormwood till I was a fine mahogany
colour, and Aunt Jo wailed over my spoilt jacket,' laughed Tom, a boy
again in a minute.

'And how you set the house afire?'

'And you ran off for your band-box?'

'Do you ever say “Thunder-turtles” now?'

'Do people ever call you “Giddy-gaddy”?'

'Daisy does. Dear thing, I haven't seen her for a week.'

'I saw Demi this morning, and he said she was keeping house for Mother
Bhaer.'

'She always does when Aunt Jo gets into a vortex. Daisy is a model
housekeeper; and you couldn't do better than make your bow to her, if
you can't go to work and wait till you are grown up before you begin
lovering.'

'Nat would break his fiddle over my head if I suggested such a thing.
No, thank you. Another name is engraved upon my heart as indelibly
as the blue anchor on my arm. “Hope” is my motto, and “No surrender”,
yours; see who will hold out longest.'

'You silly boys think we must pair off as we did when children; but we
shall do nothing of the kind. How well Parnassus looks from here!' said
Nan, abruptly changing the conversation again.

'It is a fine house; but I love old Plum best. Wouldn't Aunt March stare
if she could see the changes here?' answered Tom, as they both paused at
the great gate to look at the pleasant landscape before them.

A sudden whoop startled them, as a long boy with a wild yellow head came
leaping over a hedge like a kangaroo, followed by a slender girl, who
stuck in the hawthorn, and sat there laughing like a witch. A pretty
little lass she was, with curly dark hair, bright eyes, and a very
expressive face. Her hat was at her back, and her skirts a good deal the
worse for the brooks she had crossed, the trees she had climbed, and the
last leap, which added several fine rents.

'Take me down, Nan, please. Tom, hold Ted; he's got my book, and I
will have it,' called Josie from her perch, not at all daunted by the
appearance of her friends.

Tom promptly collared the thief, while Nan picked Josie from among the
thorns and set her on her feet without a word of reproof; for having
been a romp in her own girlhood, she was very indulgent to like tastes
in others. 'What's the matter, dear?' she asked, pinning up the longest
rip, while Josie examined the scratches on her hands. 'I was studying my
part in the willow, and Ted came slyly up and poked the book out of my
hands with his rod. It fell in the brook, and before I could scrabble
down he was off. You wretch, give it back this moment or I'll box your
ears,' cried Josie, laughing and scolding in the same breath.

Escaping from Tom, Ted struck a sentimental attitude, and with tender
glances at the wet, torn young person before him, delivered Claude
Melnotte's famous speech in a lackadaisical way that was irresistibly
funny, ending with 'Dost like the picture, love?' as he made an object
of himself by tying his long legs in a knot and distorting his face
horribly.

The sound of applause from the piazza put a stop to these antics, and
the young folks went up the avenue together very much in the old style
when Tom drove four in hand and Nan was the best horse in the team.
Rosy, breathless, and merry, they greeted the ladies and sat down on
the steps to rest, Aunt Meg sewing up her daughter's rags while Mrs
Jo smoothed the Lion's mane, and rescued the book. Daisy appeared in a
moment to greet her friend, and all began to talk.

'Muffins for tea; better stay and eat 'em; Daisy's never fail,' said Ted
hospitably.

'He's a judge; he ate nine last time. That's why he's so fat,' added
Josie, with a withering glance at her cousin, who was as thin as a lath.

'I must go and see Lucy Dove. She has a whitlow, and it's time to lance
it. I'll tea at college,' answered Nan, feeling in her pocket to be sure
she had not forgotten her case of instruments.

'Thanks, I'm going there also. Tom Merryweather has granulated lids,
and I promised to touch them up for him. Save a doctor's fee and be good
practice for me. I'm clumsy with my thumbs,' said Tom, bound to be near
his idol while he could.

'Hush! Daisy doesn't like to hear you saw-bones talk of your work.
Muffins suit us better'; and Ted grinned sweetly, with a view to future
favours in the eating line.

'Any news of the Commodore?' asked Tom.

'He is on his way home, and Dan hopes to come soon. I long to see my
boys together, and have begged the wanderers to come to Thanksgiving, if
not before,' answered Mrs Jo, beaming at the thought.

'They'll come, every man of them, if they can. Even Jack will risk
losing a dollar for the sake of one of our jolly old dinners,' laughed
Tom.

'There's the turkey fattening for the feast. I never chase him now, but
feed him well; and he's “swellin' wisibly”, bless his drumsticks!' said
Ted, pointing out the doomed fowl proudly parading in a neighbouring
field.

'If Nat goes the last of the month we shall want a farewell frolic for
him. I suppose the dear old Chirper will come home a second Ole Bull,'
said Nan to her friend.

A pretty colour came into Daisy's cheek, and the folds of muslin on her
breast rose and fell with a quick breath; but she answered placidly:
'Uncle Laurie says he has real talent, and after the training he will
get abroad he can command a good living here, though he may never be
famous.'

'Young people seldom turn out as one predicts, so it is of little use
to expect anything,' said Mrs Meg with a sigh. 'If our children are good
and useful men and women, we should be satisfied; yet it's very natural
to wish them to be brilliant and successful.'

'They are like my chickens, mighty uncertain. Now, that fine-looking
cockerel of mine is the stupidest one of the lot, and the ugly,
long-legged chap is the king of the yard, he's so smart; crows loud
enough to wake the Seven Sleepers; but the handsome one croaks, and is
no end of a coward. I get snubbed; but you wait till I grow up, and
then see'; and Ted looked so like his own long-legged pet that everyone
laughed at his modest prediction.

'I want to see Dan settled somewhere. “A rolling stone gathers no moss”,
and at twenty-five he is still roaming about the world without a tie to
hold him, except this'; and Mrs Meg nodded towards her sister.

'Dan will find his place at last, and experience is his best teacher.
He is rough still, but each time he comes home I see a change for the
better, and never lose my faith in him. He may never do anything great,
or get rich; but if the wild boy makes an honest man, I'm satisfied,'
said Mrs Jo, who always defended the black sheep of her flock.

'That's right, mother, stand by Dan! He's worth a dozen Jacks and Neds
bragging about money and trying to be swells. You see if he doesn't do
something to be proud of and take the wind out of their sails,'
added Ted, whose love for his 'Danny' was now strengthened by a boy's
admiration for the bold, adventurous man.

'Hope so, I'm sure. He's just the fellow to do rash things and come
to glory--climbing the Matterhorn, taking a “header” into Niagara, or
finding a big nugget. That's his way of sowing wild oats, and perhaps
it's better than ours,' said Tom thoughtfully; for he had gained a good
deal of experience in that sort of agriculture since he became a medical
student.

'Much better!' said Mrs Jo emphatically. 'I'd rather send my boys off
to see the world in that way than leave them alone in a city full of
temptations, with nothing to do but waste time, money, and health, as
so many are left. Dan has to work his way, and that teaches him courage,
patience, and self-reliance. I don't worry about him as much as I do
about George and Dolly at college, no more fit than two babies to take
care of themselves.'

'How about John? He's knocking round town as a newspaper man, reporting
all sorts of things, from sermons to prize-fights,' asked Tom, who
thought that sort of life would be much more to his own taste than
medical lectures and hospital wards.

'Demi has three safeguards--good principles, refined tastes, and a wise
mother. He won't come to harm, and these experiences will be useful to
him when he begins to write, as I'm sure he will in time,' began Mrs
Jo in her prophetic tone; for she was anxious to have some of her geese
turn out swans.

'Speak of Jenkins, and you'll hear the rustling of his paper,' cried
Tom, as a fresh-faced, brown-eyed young man came up the avenue, waving a
newspaper over his head.

'Here's your Evening Tattler! Latest Edition! Awful murder! Bank clerk
absconded! Powder-mill explosion, and great strike of the Latin School
boys!' roared Ted, going to meet his cousin with the graceful gait of a
young giraffe.

'The Commodore is in, and will cut his cable and run before the wind
as soon as he can get off,' called Demi, with 'a nice derangement of
nautical epitaphs', as he came up smiling over his good news.

Everyone talked together for a moment, and the paper passed from hand to
hand that each eye might rest on the pleasant fact that the Brenda, from
Hamburg, was safe in port.

'He'll come lurching out by tomorrow with his usual collection of marine
monsters and lively yarns. I saw him, jolly and tarry and brown as a
coffee-berry. Had a good run, and hopes to be second mate, as the other
chap is laid up with a broken leg,' added Demi.

'Wish I had the setting of it,' said Nan to herself, with a professional
twist of her hand.

'How's Franz?' asked Mrs Jo.

'He's going to be married! There's news for you. The first of the
flock, Aunty, so say good-bye to him. Her name is Ludmilla Heldegard
Blumenthal; good family, well-off, pretty, and of course an angel. The
dear old boy wants Uncle's consent, and then he will settle down to be a
happy and an honest burgher. Long life to him!'

'I'm glad to hear it. I do so like to settle my boys with a good wife
and a nice little home. Now, if all is right, I shall feel as if Franz
was off my mind,' said Mrs Jo, folding her hands contentedly; for she
often felt like a distracted hen with a large brood of mixed chickens
and ducks upon her hands.

'So do I,' sighed Tom, with a sly glance at Nan. 'That's what a fellow
needs to keep him steady; and it's the duty of nice girls to marry as
soon as possible, isn't it, Demi?'

'If there are enough nice fellows to go round. The female population
exceeds the male, you know, especially in New England; which accounts
for the high state of culture we are in, perhaps,' answered John, who
was leaning over his mother's chair, telling his day's experiences in a
whisper.

'It is a merciful provision, my dears; for it takes three or four women
to get each man into, through, and out of the world. You are costly
creatures, boys; and it is well that mothers, sisters, wives, and
daughters love their duty and do it so well, or you would perish off the
face of the earth,' said Mrs Jo solemnly, as she took up a basket filled
with dilapidated hose; for the good Professor was still hard on his
socks, and his sons resembled him in that respect.

'Such being the case, there is plenty for the “superfluous women” to do,
in taking care of these helpless men and their families. I see that more
clearly every day, and am very glad and grateful that my profession will
make me a useful, happy, and independent spinster.'

Nan's emphasis on the last word caused Tom to groan, and the rest to
laugh.

'I take great pride and solid satisfaction in you, Nan, and hope to
see you very successful; for we do need just such helpful women in the
world. I sometimes feel as if I've missed my vocation and ought to
have remained single; but my duty seemed to point this way, and I don't
regret it,' said Mrs Jo, folding a large and very ragged blue sock to
her bosom.

'Neither do I. What should I ever have done without my dearest Mum?'
added Ted, with a filial hug which caused both to disappear behind the
newspaper in which he had been mercifully absorbed for a few minutes.

'My darling boy, if you would wash your hands semi-occasionally, fond
caresses would be less disastrous to my collar. Never mind, my precious
touslehead, better grass stains and dirt than no cuddlings at all'; and
Mrs Jo emerged from that brief eclipse looking much refreshed, though
her back hair was caught in Ted's buttons and her collar under one ear.

Here Josie, who had been studying her part at the other end of the
piazza, suddenly burst forth with a smothered shriek, and gave Juliet's
speech in the tomb so effectively that the boys applauded, Daisy
shivered, and Nan murmured: 'Too much cerebral excitement for one of her
age.'

'I'm afraid you'll have to make up your mind to it, Meg. That child is
a born actress. We never did anything so well, not even the Witch's
Curse,' said Mrs Jo, casting a bouquet of many-coloured socks at the
feet of her flushed and panting niece, when she fell gracefully upon the
door-mat.

'It is a sort of judgement upon me for my passion for the stage when a
girl. Now I know how dear Marmee felt when I begged to be an actress. I
never can consent, and yet I may be obliged to give up my wishes, hopes,
and plans again.'

There was an accent of reproach in his mother's voice, which made Demi
pick up his sister with a gentle shake, and the stern command to 'drop
that nonsense in public'.

'Drop me, Minion, or I'll give you the Maniac Bride, with my best
Ha-ha!' cried Josie, glaring at him like an offended kitten. Being set
on her feet, she made a splendid courtesy, and dramatically proclaiming,
'Mrs Woffington's carriage waits,' swept down the steps and round the
corner, trailing Daisy's scarlet shawl majestically behind her.

'Isn't she great fun? I couldn't stop in this dull place if I hadn't
that child to make it lively for me. If ever she turns prim, I'm off; so
mind how you nip her in the bud,' said Teddy, frowning at Demi, who was
now writing out shorthand notes on the steps.

'You two are a team, and it takes a strong hand to drive you, but I
rather like it. Josie ought to have been my child, and Rob yours, Meg.
Then your house would have been all peace and mine all Bedlam. Now I
must go and tell Laurie the news. Come with me, Meg, a little stroll
will do us good'; and sticking Ted's straw hat on her head, Mrs Jo
walked off with her sister, leaving Daisy to attend to the muffins, Ted
to appease Josie, and Tom and Nan to give their respective patients a
very bad quarter of an hour.



Chapter 2. PARNASSUS

It was well named; and the Muses seemed to be at home that day, for as
the newcomers went up the slope appropriate sights and sounds greeted
them. Passing an open window, they looked in upon a library presided
over by Clio, Calliope, and Urania; Melpomene and Thalia were disporting
themselves in the hall, where some young people were dancing and
rehearsing a play; Erato was walking in the garden with her lover, and
in the music-room Phoebus himself was drilling a tuneful choir.

A mature Apollo was our old friend Laurie, but comely and genial as
ever; for time had ripened the freakish boy into a noble man. Care and
sorrow, as well as ease and happiness, had done much for him; and the
responsibility of carrying out his grandfather's wishes had been a
duty most faithfully performed. Prosperity suits some people, and they
blossom best in a glow of sunshine; others need the shade, and are the
sweeter for a touch of frost. Laurie was one of the former sort, and
Amy was another; so life had been a kind of poem to them since they
married--not only harmonious and happy, but earnest, useful, and rich in
the beautiful benevolence which can do so much when wealth and wisdom go
hand in hand with charity. Their house was full of unostentatious beauty
and comfort, and here the art-loving host and hostess attracted and
entertained artists of all kinds. Laurie had music enough now, and was a
generous patron to the class he most liked to help. Amy had her proteges
among ambitious young painters and sculptors, and found her own art
double dear as her daughter grew old enough to share its labours and
delights with her; for she was one of those who prove that women can be
faithful wives and mothers without sacrificing the special gift bestowed
upon them for their own development and the good of others.

Her sisters knew where to find her, and Jo went at once to the studio,
where mother and daughter worked together. Bess was busy with the bust
of a little child, while her mother added the last touches to a fine
head of her husband. Time seemed to have stood still with Amy, for
happiness had kept her young and prosperity given her the culture she
needed. A stately, graceful woman, who showed how elegant simplicity
could be made by the taste with which she chose her dress and the grace
with which she wore it. As someone said: 'I never know what Mrs Laurence
has on, but I always receive the impression that she is the best-dressed
lady in the room.'

It was evident that she adored her daughter, and well she might; for
the beauty she had longed for seemed, to her fond eyes at least, to
be impersonated in this younger self. Bess inherited her mother's
Diana-like figure, blue eyes, fair skin, and golden hair, tied up in
the same classic knot of curls. Also--ah! never-ending source of joy to
Amy--she had her father's handsome nose and mouth, cast in a feminine
mould. The severe simplicity of a long linen pinafore suited her;
and she worked away with the entire absorption of the true artist,
unconscious of the loving eyes upon her, till Aunt Jo came in exclaiming
eagerly:

'My dear girls, stop your mud-pies and hear the news!'

Both artists dropped their tools and greeted the irrepressible woman
cordially, though genius had been burning splendidly and her coming
spoilt a precious hour. They were in the full tide of gossip when
Laurie, who had been summoned by Meg, arrived, and sitting down between
the sisters, with no barricade anywhere, listened with interest to the
news of Franz and Emil.

'The epidemic has broke out, and now it will rage and ravage your flock.
Be prepared for every sort of romance and rashness for the next ten
years, Jo. Your boys are growing up and will plunge headlong into a sea
of worse scrapes than any you have had yet,' said Laurie, enjoying her
look of mingled delight and despair.

'I know it, and I hope I shall be able to pull them through and land
them safely; but it's an awful responsibility, for they will come to me
and insist that I can make their poor little loves run smoothly. I
like it, though, and Meg is such a mush of sentiment she revels in the
prospect,' answered Jo, feeling pretty easy about her own boys, whose
youth made them safe for the present.

'I'm afraid she won't revel when our Nat begins to buzz too near her
Daisy. Of course you see what all that means? As musical director I am
also his confidante, and would like to know what advice to give,' said
Laurie soberly. 'Hush! you forget that child,' began Jo, nodding towards
Bess, who was at work again.

'Bless you! she's in Athens, and doesn't hear a word. She ought to leave
off, though, and go out. My darling, put the baby to sleep, and go for
a run. Aunt Meg is in the parlour; go and show her the new pictures till
we come,' added Laurie, looking at his tall girl as Pygmalion might have
looked at Galatea; for he considered her the finest statue in the house.

'Yes, papa; but please tell me if it is good'; and Bess obediently put
down her tools, with a lingering glance at the bust.

'My cherished daughter, truth compels me to confess that one cheek is
plumper than the other; and the curls upon its infant brow are rather
too much like horns for perfect grace; otherwise it rivals Raphael's
Chanting Cherubs, and I'm proud of it.'

Laurie was laughing as he spoke; for these first attempts were so like
Amy's early ones, it was impossible to regard them as soberly as the
enthusiastic mamma did.

'You can't see beauty in anything but music,' answered Bess, shaking the
golden head that made the one bright spot in the cool north lights of
the great studio.

'Well, I see beauty in you, dear. And if you are not art, what is? I
wish to put a little more nature into you, and get you away from this
cold clay and marble into the sunshine, to dance and laugh as the
others do. I want a flesh-and-blood girl, not a sweet statue in a grey
pinafore, who forgets everything but her work.' As he spoke, two dusty
hands came round his neck, and Bess said earnestly, punctuating her
words with soft touches of her lips:

'I never forget you, papa; but I do want to do something beautiful that
you may be proud of me by and by. Mamma often tells me to stop; but when
we get in here we forget there is any world outside, we are so busy and
so happy. Now I'll go and run and sing, and be a girl to please you.'
And throwing away the apron, Bess vanished from the room, seeming to
take all the light with her.

'I'm glad you said that. The dear child is too much absorbed in her
artistic dreams for one so young. It is my fault; but I sympathize so
deeply in it all, I forget to be wise,' sighed Amy, carefully covering
the baby with a wet towel.

'I think this power of living in our children is one of the sweetest
things in the world; but I try to remember what Marmee once said to
Meg--that fathers should have their share in the education of both girls
and boys; so I leave Ted to his father all I can, and Fritz lends me
Rob, whose quiet ways are as restful and good for me as Ted's tempests
are for his father. Now I advise you, Amy, to let Bess drop the mud-pies
for a time, and take up music with Laurie; then she won't be one-sided,
and he won't be jealous.'

'Hear, hear! A Daniel--a very Daniel!' cried Laurie, well pleased. 'I
thought you'd lend a hand, Jo, and say a word for me. I am a little
jealous of Amy, and want more of a share in my girl. Come, my lady, let
me have her this summer, and next year, when we go to Rome, I'll give
her up to you and high art. Isn't that a fair bargain?'

'I agree; but in trying your hobby, nature, with music thrown in, don't
forget that, though only fifteen, our Bess is older than most girls of
that age, and cannot be treated like a child. She is so very precious
to me, I feel as if I wanted to keep her always as pure and beautiful as
the marble she loves so well.'

Amy spoke regretfully as she looked about the lovely room where she had
spent so many happy hours with this dear child of hers.

'“Turn and turn about is fair play”, as we used to say when we all
wanted to ride on Ellen Tree or wear the russet boots,' said Jo briskly;
'so you must share your girl between you, and see who will do the most
for her.'

'We will,' answered the fond parents, laughing at the recollections Jo's
proverb brought up to them.

'How I did use to enjoy bouncing on the limbs of that old apple-tree!
No real horse ever gave me half the pleasure or the exercise,' said Amy,
looking out of the high window as if she saw the dear old orchard again
and the little girls at play there.

'And what fun I had with those blessed boots!' laughed Jo. 'I've got the
relics now. The boys reduced them to rags; but I love them still, and
would enjoy a good theatrical stalk in them if it were possible.'

'My fondest memories twine about the warming-pan and the sausage. What
larks we had! And how long ago it seems!' said Laurie, staring at the
two women before him as if he found it hard to realize that they ever
had been little Amy and riotous Jo.

'Don't suggest that we are growing old, my Lord. We have only bloomed;
and a very nice bouquet we make with our buds about us,' answered Mrs
Amy, shaking out the folds of her rosy muslin with much the air of
dainty satisfaction the girl used to show in a new dress.

'Not to mention our thorns and dead leaves,' added Jo, with a sigh; for
life had never been very easy to her, and even now she had her troubles
both within and without.

'Come and have a dish of tea, old dear, and see what the young folks are
about. You are tired, and want to be “stayed with flagons and comforted
with apples”,' said Laurie, offering an arm to each sister, and leading
them away to afternoon tea, which flowed as freely on Parnassus as the
nectar of old.

They found Meg in the summer-parlour, an airy and delightful room, full
now of afternoon sunshine and the rustle of trees; for the three long
windows opened on the garden. The great music-room was at one end,
and at the other, in a deep alcove hung with purple curtains, a little
household shrine had been made. Three portraits hung there, two marble
busts stood in the corners, and a couch, an oval table, with its urn
of flowers, were the only articles of furniture the nook contained. The
busts were John Brooke and Beth--Amy's work--both excellent likenesses,
and both full of the placid beauty which always recalls the saying,
that 'Clay represents life; plaster, death; marble, immortality'. On
the right, as became the founder of the house, hung the portrait of Mr
Laurence, with its expression of mingled pride and benevolence, as fresh
and attractive as when he caught the girl Jo admiring it. Opposite was
Aunt March--a legacy to Amy--in an imposing turban, immense sleeves, and
long mittens decorously crossed on the front of her plum-coloured satin
gown. Time had mellowed the severity of her aspect; and the fixed regard
of the handsome old gentleman opposite seemed to account for the amiable
simper on lips that had not uttered a sharp word for years.

In the place of honour, with the sunshine warm upon it, and a green
garland always round it, was Marmee's beloved face, painted with
grateful skill by a great artist whom she had befriended when poor and
unknown. So beautifully lifelike was it that it seemed to smile down
upon her daughters, saying cheerfully:

'Be happy; I am with you still.'

The three sisters stood a moment looking up at the beloved picture with
eyes full of tender reverence and the longing that never left them; for
this noble mother had been so much to them that no one could ever fill
her place. Only two years since she had gone away to live and love anew,
leaving such a sweet memory behind her that it was both an inspiration
and a comforter to all the household. They felt this as they drew closer
to one another, and Laurie put it into words as he said earnestly:

'I can ask nothing better for my child than that she may be a woman like
our mother. Please God, she shall be, if I can do it; for I owe the best
I have to this dear saint.'

Just then a fresh voice began to sing 'Ave Maria' in the music-room, and
Bess unconsciously echoed her father's prayer for her as she dutifully
obeyed his wishes. The soft sound of the air Marmee used to sing led the
listeners back into the world again from that momentary reaching after
the loved and lost, and they sat down together near the open windows
enjoying the music, while Laurie brought them tea, making the little
service pleasant by the tender care he gave to it.

Nat came in with Demi, soon followed by Ted and Josie, the Professor and
his faithful Rob, all anxious to hear more about 'the boys'. The rattle
of cups and tongues grew brisk, and the setting sun saw a cheerful
company resting in the bright room after the varied labours of the day.

Professor Bhaer was grey now, but robust and genial as ever; for he had
the work he loved, and did it so heartily that the whole college felt
his beautiful influence. Rob was as much like him as it was possible for
a boy to be, and was already called the 'young Professor', he so adored
study and closely imitated his honoured father in all ways.

'Well, heart's dearest, we go to have our boys again, all two, and
may rejoice greatly,' said Mr Bhaer, seating himself beside Jo with a
beaming face and a handshake of congratulation.

'Oh, Fritz, I'm so delighted about Emil, and if you approve about Franz
also. Did you know Ludmilla? Is it a wise match?' asked Mrs Jo, handing
him her cup of tea and drawing closer, as if she welcomed her refuge in
joy as well as sorrow.

'It all goes well. I saw the Madchen when I went over to place Franz.
A child then, but most sweet and charming. Blumenthal is satisfied, I
think, and the boy will be happy. He is too German to be content away
from Vaterland, so we shall have him as a link between the new and the
old, and that pleases me much.'

'And Emil, he is to be second mate next voyage; isn't that fine? I'm so
happy that both your boys have done well; you gave up so much for them
and their mother. You make light of it, dear, but I never forget it,'
said Jo, with her hand in his as sentimentally as if she was a girl
again and her Fritz had come a-wooing.

He laughed his cheery laugh, and whispered behind her fan: 'If I had not
come to America for the poor lads, I never should have found my Jo.
The hard times are very sweet now, and I bless Gott for all I seemed to
lose, because I gained the blessing of my life.'

'Spooning! spooning! Here's an awful flirtation on the sly,' cried
Teddy, peering over the fan just at that interesting moment, much to his
mother's confusion and his father's amusement; for the Professor never
was ashamed of the fact that he still considered his wife the dearest
woman in the world. Rob promptly ejected his brother from one window,
to see him skip in at the other, while Mrs Jo shut her fan and held it
ready to rap her unruly boy's knuckles if he came near her again.

Nat approached in answer to Mr Bhaer's beckoning teaspoon, and stood
before them with a face full of the respectful affection he felt for the
excellent man who had done so much for him.

'I have the letters ready for thee, my son. They are two old friends of
mine in Leipzig, who will befriend thee in that new life. It is well to
have them, for thou wilt be heartbroken with Heimweh at the first, Nat,
and need comforting,' said the Professor, giving him several letters.

'Thanks, sir. Yes, I expect to be pretty lonely till I get started, then
my music and the hope of getting on will cheer me up,' answered Nat, who
both longed and dreaded to leave all these friends behind him and make
new ones.

He was a man now; but the blue eyes were as honest as ever, the mouth
still a little weak, in spite of the carefully cherished moustache
over it, and the broad forehead more plainly than ever betrayed the
music-loving nature of the youth. Modest, affectionate, and dutiful, Nat
was considered a pleasant though not a brilliant success by Mrs Jo. She
loved and trusted him, and was sure he would do his best, but did not
expect that he would be great in any way, unless the stimulus of foreign
training and self-dependence made him a better artist and a stronger man
than now seemed likely.

'I've marked all your things--or rather, Daisy did--and as soon as your
books are collected, we can see about the packing,' said Mrs Jo, who was
so used to fitting boys off for all quarters of the globe that a trip to
the North Pole would not have been too much for her.

Nat grew red at mention of that name--or was it the last glow of sunset
on his rather pale cheek?--and his heart beat happily at the thought of
the dear girl working Ns and Bs on his humble socks and handkerchiefs;
for Nat adored Daisy, and the cherished dream of his life was to earn
a place for himself as a musician and win this angel for his wife. This
hope did more for him than the Professor's counsels, Mrs Jo's care, or
Mr Laurie's generous help. For her sake he worked, waited, and hoped,
finding courage and patience in the dream of that happy future when
Daisy should make a little home for him and he fiddle a fortune into her
lap. Mrs Jo knew this; and though he was not exactly the man she would
have chosen for her niece, she felt that Nat would always need just the
wise and loving care Daisy could give him, and that without it there was
danger of his being one of the amiable and aimless men who fail for
want of the right pilot to steer them safely through the world. Mrs Meg
decidedly frowned upon the poor boy's love, and would not hear of giving
her dear girl to any but the best man to be found on the face of the
earth. She was very kind, but as firm as such gentle souls can be; and
Nat fled for comfort to Mrs Jo, who always espoused the interests of
her boys heartily. A new set of anxieties was beginning now that the
aforesaid boys were growing up, and she foresaw no end of worry as well
as amusement in the love-affairs already budding in her flock. Mrs Meg
was usually her best ally and adviser, for she loved romances as well
now as when a blooming girl herself. But in this case she hardened her
heart, and would not hear a word of entreaty. 'Nat was not man enough,
never would be, no one knew his family, a musician's life was a hard
one; Daisy was too young, five or six years hence when time had proved
both perhaps. Let us see what absence will do for him.' And that was the
end of it, for when the maternal Pelican was roused she could be very
firm, though for her precious children she would have plucked her last
feather and given the last drop of her blood.

Mrs Jo was thinking of this as she looked at Nat while he talked
with her husband about Leipzig, and she resolved to have a clear
understanding with him before he went; for she was used to confidences,
and talked freely with her boys about the trials and temptations that
beset all lives in the beginning, and so often mar them, for want of the
right word at the right moment.

This is the first duty of parents, and no false delicacy should
keep them from the watchful care, the gentle warning, which makes
self-knowledge and self-control the compass and pilot of the young as
they leave the safe harbour of home.

'Plato and his disciples approach,' announced irreverent Teddy, as Mr
March came in with several young men and women about him; for the wise
old man was universally beloved, and ministered so beautifully to his
flock that many of them thanked him all their lives for the help given
to both hearts and souls.

Bess went to him at once; for since Marmee died, Grandpapa was her
special care, and it was sweet to see the golden head bend over the
silver one as she rolled out his easy-chair and waited on him with
tender alacrity.

'Aesthetic tea always on tap here, sir; will you have a flowing bowl
or a bit of ambrosia?' asked Laurie, who was wandering about with a
sugar-basin in one hand and a plate of cake in the other; for sweetening
cups and feeding the hungry was work he loved.

'Neither, thanks; this child has taken care of me'; and Mr March turned
to Bess, who sat on one arm of his chair, holding a glass of fresh milk.

'Long may she live to do it, sir, and I be here to see this pretty
contradiction of the song that “youth and age cannot live together”!'
answered Laurie, smiling at the pair. '“Crabbed age”, papa; that makes
all the difference in the world,' said Bess quickly; for she loved
poetry, and read the best.

    'Wouldst thou see fresh roses grow
     In a reverend bed of snow?'

quoted Mr March, as Josie came and perched on the other arm, looking
like a very thorny little rose; for she had been having a hot discussion
with Ted, and had got the worst of it.

'Grandpa, must women always obey men and say they are the wisest, just
because they are the strongest?' she cried, looking fiercely at her
cousin, who came stalking up with a provoking smile on the boyish face
that was always very comical atop of that tall figure.

'Well, my dear, that is the old-fashioned belief, and it will take some
time to change it. But I think the woman's hour has struck; and it looks
to me as if the boys must do their best, for the girls are abreast
now, and may reach the goal first,' answered Mr March, surveying with
paternal satisfaction the bright faces of the young women, who were
among the best students in the college.

'The poor little Atalantas are sadly distracted and delayed by the
obstacles thrown in their way--not golden apples, by any means--but
I think they will stand a fair chance when they have learned to run
better,' laughed Uncle Laurie, stroking Josie's breezy hair, which stood
up like the fur of an angry kitten.

'Whole barrels of apples won't stop me when I start, and a dozen Teds
won't trip me up, though they may try. I'll show him that a woman can
act as well, if not better, than a man. It has been done, and will be
again; and I'll never own that my brain isn't as good as his, though it
may be smaller,' cried the excited young person.

'If you shake your head in that violent way you'll addle what brains you
have got; and I'd take care of 'em, if I were you,' began teasing Ted.

'What started this civil war?' asked Grandpapa, with a gentle emphasis
on the adjective, which caused the combatants to calm their ardour a
little.

'Why, we were pegging away at the Iliad and came to where Zeus tells
Juno not to inquire into his plans or he'll whip her, and Jo was
disgusted because Juno meekly hushed up. I said it was all right, and
agreed with the old fellow that women didn't know much and ought to obey
men,' explained Ted, to the great amusement of his hearers.

'Goddesses may do as they like, but those Greek and Trojan women were
poor-spirited things if they minded men who couldn't fight their own
battles and had to be hustled off by Pallas, and Venus, and Juno, when
they were going to get beaten. The idea of two armies stopping and
sitting down while a pair of heroes flung stones at one another! I don't
think much of your old Homer. Give me Napoleon or Grant for my hero.'

Josie's scorn was as funny as if a humming-bird scolded at an ostrich,
and everyone laughed as she sniffed at the immortal poet and criticized
the gods.

'Napoleon's Juno had a nice time; didn't she? That's just the way girls
argue--first one way and then the other,' jeered Ted.

'Like Johnson's young lady, who was “not categorical, but all
wiggle-waggle”,' added Uncle Laurie, enjoying the battle immensely.

'I was only speaking of them as soldiers. But if you come to the woman
side of it, wasn't Grant a kind husband and Mrs Grant a happy woman?
He didn't threaten to whip her if she asked a natural question; and if
Napoleon did do wrong about Josephine, he could fight, and didn't want
any Minerva to come fussing over him. They were a stupid set, from
dandified Paris to Achilles sulking in his ships, and I won't change my
opinion for all the Hectors and Agamemnons in Greece,' said Josie, still
unconquered.

'You can fight like a Trojan, that's evident; and we will be the two
obedient armies looking on while you and Ted have it out,' began Uncle
Laurie, assuming the attitude of a warrior leaning on his spear.

'I fear we must give it up, for Pallas is about to descend and carry off
our Hector,' said Mr March, smiling, as Jo came to remind her son that
suppertime was near.

'We will fight it out later when there are no goddesses to interfere,'
said Teddy, as he turned away with unusual alacrity, remembering the
treat in store.

'Conquered by a muffin, by Jove!' called Josie after him, exulting in an
opportunity to use the classical exclamation forbidden to her sex.

But Ted shot a Parthian arrow as he retired in good order by replying,
with a highly virtuous expression:

'Obedience is a soldier's first duty.'

Bent on her woman's privilege of having the last word, Josie ran after
him, but never uttered the scathing speech upon her lips, for a very
brown young man in a blue suit came leaping up the steps with a cheery
'Ahoy! ahoy! where is everybody?'

'Emil! Emil!' cried Josie, and in a moment Ted was upon him, and the
late enemies ended their fray in a joyful welcome to the newcomer.

Muffins were forgotten, and towing their cousin like two fussy little
tugs with a fine merchantman, the children returned to the parlour,
where Emil kissed all the women and shook hands with all the men except
his uncle; him he embraced in the good old German style, to the great
delight of the observers.

'Didn't think I could get off today, but found I could, and steered
straight for old Plum. Not a soul there, so I luffed and bore away for
Parnassus, and here is every man Jack of you. Bless your hearts, how
glad I am to see you all!' exclaimed the sailor boy, beaming at them, as
he stood with his legs apart as if he still felt the rocking deck under
his feet.

'You ought to “shiver your timbers”, not “bless our hearts”, Emil; it's
not nautical at all. Oh, how nice and shippy and tarry you do smell!'
said Josie, sniffing at him with great enjoyment of the fresh sea odours
he brought with him. This was her favourite cousin, and she was his
pet; so she knew that the bulging pockets of the blue jacket contained
treasures for her at least.

'Avast, my hearty, and let me take soundings before you dive,' laughed
Emil, understanding her affectionate caresses, and holding her off with
one hand while with the other he rummaged out sundry foreign little
boxes and parcels marked with different names, and handed them round
with appropriate remarks, which caused much laughter; for Emil was a
wag.

'There's a hawser that will hold our little cock-boat still about five
minutes,' he said, throwing a necklace of pretty pink coral over Josie's
head; 'and here's something the mermaids sent to Undine,' he added,
handing Bess a string of pearly shells on a silver chain.

I thought Daisy would like a fiddle, and Nat can find her a beau,'
continued the sailor, with a laugh, as he undid a dainty filigree brooch
in the shape of a violin.

'I know she will, and I'll take it to her,' answered Nat, as he
vanished, glad of an errand, and sure that he could find Daisy though
Emil had missed her.

Emil chuckled, and handed out a quaintly carved bear whose head opened,
showing a capacious ink-stand. This he presented, with a scrape, to Aunt
Jo.

'Knowing your fondness for these fine animals, I brought this one to
your pen.'

'Very good, Commodore! Try again,' said Mrs Jo, much pleased with her
gift, which caused the Professor to prophesy 'works of Shakespeare' from
its depths, so great would be the inspiration of the beloved bruin.

'As Aunt Meg will wear caps, in spite of her youth, I got Ludmilla to
get me some bits of lace. Hope you'll like 'em'; and out of a soft paper
came some filmy things, one of which soon lay like a net of snowflakes
on Mrs Meg's pretty hair.

'I couldn't find anything swell enough for Aunt Amy, because she has
everything she wants, so I brought a little picture that always makes
me think of her when Bess was a baby'; and he handed her an oval ivory
locket, on which was painted a goldenhaired Madonna, with a rosy child
folded in her blue mantle.

'How lovely!' cried everyone; and Aunt Amy at once hung it about her
neck on the blue ribbon from Bess's hair, charmed with her gift; for it
recalled the happiest year of her life.

'Now, I flatter myself I've got just the thing for Nan, neat but not
gaudy, a sort of sign you see, and very appropriate for a doctor,' said
Emil, proudly displaying a pair of lava earrings shaped like little
skulls.

'Horrid!' And Bess, who hated ugly things, turned her eyes to her own
pretty shells.

'She won't wear earrings,' said Josie.

'Well, she'll enjoy punching your ears then. She's never so happy as
when she's overhauling her fellow creatures and going for 'em with a
knife,' answered Emil, undisturbed. 'I've got a lot of plunder for you
fellows in my chest, but I knew I should have no peace till my cargo for
the girls was unloaded. Now tell me all the news.' And, seated on Amy's
best marbletopped table, the sailor swung his legs and talked at the
rate of ten knots an hour, till Aunt Jo carried them all off to a grand
family tea in honour of the Commodore.



Chapter 3. JO'S LAST SCRAPE

The March family had enjoyed a great many surprises in the course of
their varied career, but the greatest of all was when the Ugly Duckling
turned out to be, not a swan, but a golden goose, whose literary eggs
found such an unexpected market that in ten years Jo's wildest and most
cherished dream actually came true. How or why it happened she never
clearly understood, but all of a sudden she found herself famous in a
small way, and, better still, with a snug little fortune in her pocket
to clear away the obstacles of the present and assure the future of her
boys.

It began during a bad year when everything went wrong at Plumfield;
times were hard, the school dwindled, Jo overworked herself and had a
long illness; Laurie and Amy were abroad, and the Bhaers too proud to
ask help even of those as near and dear as this generous pair. Confined
to her room, Jo got desperate over the state of affairs, till she fell
back upon the long-disused pen as the only thing she could do to help
fill up the gaps in the income. A book for girls being wanted by a
certain publisher, she hastily scribbled a little story describing a few
scenes and adventures in the lives of herself and sisters, though boys
were more in her line, and with very slight hopes of success sent it out
to seek its fortune.

Things always went by contraries with Jo. Her first book, laboured over
for years, and launched full of the high hopes and ambitious dreams of
youth, foundered on its voyage, though the wreck continued to float long
afterward, to the profit of the publisher at least. The hastily written
story, sent away with no thought beyond the few dollars it might bring,
sailed with a fair wind and a wise pilot at the helm into public favour,
and came home heavily laden with an unexpected cargo of gold and glory.

A more astonished woman probably never existed than Josephine Bhaer when
her little ship came into port with flags flying, cannon that had been
silent before now booming gaily, and, better than all, many kind faces
rejoicing with her, many friendly hands grasping hers with cordial
congratulations. After that it was plain sailing, and she merely had
to load her ships and send them off on prosperous trips, to bring home
stores of comfort for all she loved and laboured for.

The fame she never did quite accept; for it takes very little fire to
make a great deal of smoke nowadays, and notoriety is not real glory.
The fortune she could not doubt, and gratefully received; though it was
not half so large a one as a generous world reported it to be. The tide
having turned continued to rise, and floated the family comfortably into
a snug harbour where the older members could rest secure from storms,
and whence the younger ones could launch their boats for the voyage of
life.

All manner of happiness, peace, and plenty came in those years to bless
the patient waiters, hopeful workers, and devout believers in the wisdom
and justice of Him who sends disappointment, poverty, and sorrow to try
the love of human hearts and make success the sweeter when it comes.
The world saw the prosperity, and kind souls rejoiced over the improved
fortunes of the family; but the success Jo valued most, the happiness
that nothing could change or take away, few knew much about.

It was the power of making her mother's last years happy and serene; to
see the burden of care laid down for ever, the weary hands at rest, the
dear face untroubled by any anxiety, and the tender heart free to pour
itself out in the wise charity which was its delight. As a girl, Jo's
favourite plan had been a room where Marmee could sit in peace and enjoy
herself after her hard, heroic life. Now the dream had become a happy
fact, and Marmee sat in her pleasant chamber with every comfort and
luxury about her, loving daughters to wait on her as infirmities
increased, a faithful mate to lean upon, and grand-children to brighten
the twilight of life with their dutiful affection. A very precious time
to all, for she rejoiced as only mothers can in the good fortunes of
their children. She had lived to reap the harvest she sowed; had seen
prayers answered, hopes blossom, good gifts bear fruit, peace and
prosperity bless the home she had made; and then, like some brave,
patient angel, whose work was done, turned her face heavenward, glad to
rest.

This was the sweet and sacred side of the change; but it had its droll
and thorny one, as all things have in this curious world of ours. After
the first surprise, incredulity, and joy, which came to Jo, with the
ingratitude of human nature, she soon tired of renown, and began to
resent her loss of liberty. For suddenly the admiring public took
possession of her and all her affairs, past, present, and to come.
Strangers demanded to look at her, question, advise, warn, congratulate,
and drive her out of her wits by well-meant but very wearisome
attentions. If she declined to open her heart to them, they reproached
her; if she refused to endow her pet charities, relieve private wants,
or sympathize with every ill and trial known to humanity, she was called
hard-hearted, selfish, and haughty; if she found it impossible to answer
the piles of letters sent her, she was neglectful of her duty to
the admiring public; and if she preferred the privacy of home to the
pedestal upon which she was requested to pose, 'the airs of literary
people' were freely criticized.

She did her best for the children, they being the public for whom she
wrote, and laboured stoutly to supply the demand always in the mouths of
voracious youth--'More stories; more right away!' Her family objected to
this devotion at their expense, and her health suffered; but for a time
she gratefully offered herself up on the altar of juvenile literature,
feeling that she owed a good deal to the little friends in whose sight
she had found favour after twenty years of effort.

But a time came when her patience gave out; and wearying of being a
lion, she became a bear in nature as in name, and returning to her den,
growled awfully when ordered out. Her family enjoyed the fun, and had
small sympathy with her trials, but Jo came to consider it the worse
scrape of her life; for liberty had always been her dearest possession,
and it seemed to be fast going from her. Living in a lantern soon loses
its charm, and she was too old, too tired, and too busy to like it. She
felt that she had done all that could reasonably be required of her when
autographs, photographs, and autobiographical sketches had been sown
broadcast over the land; when artists had taken her home in all its
aspects, and reporters had taken her in the grim one she always
assumed on these trying occasions; when a series of enthusiastic
boarding-schools had ravaged her grounds for trophies, and a steady
stream of amiable pilgrims had worn her doorsteps with their respectful
feet; when servants left after a week's trial of the bell that rang all
day; when her husband was forced to guard her at meals, and the boys
to cover her retreat out of back windows on certain occasions when
enterprising guests walked in unannounced at unfortunate moments.

A sketch of one day may perhaps explain the state of things, offer some
excuse for the unhappy woman, and give a hint to the autograph-fiend now
rampant in the land; for it is a true tale.

'There ought to be a law to protect unfortunate authors,' said Mrs Jo
one morning soon after Emil's arrival, when the mail brought her an
unusually large and varied assortment of letters. 'To me it is a more
vital subject than international copyright; for time is money, peace is
health, and I lose both with no return but less respect for my fellow
creatures and a wild desire to fly into the wilderness, since I cannot
shut my doors even in free America.'

'Lion-hunters are awful when in search of their prey. If they could
change places for a while it would do them good; and they'd see what
bores they were when they “do themselves the honour of calling to
express their admiration of our charming work”,' quoted Ted, with a bow
to his parent, now frowning over twelve requests for autographs.

'I have made up my mind on one point,' said Mrs Jo with great firmness.
'I will not answer this kind of letter. I've sent at least six to this
boy, and he probably sells them. This girl writes from a seminary, and
if I send her one all the other girls will at once write for more. All
begin by saying they know they intrude, and that I am of course annoyed
by these requests; but they venture to ask because I like boys, or they
like the books, or it is only one. Emerson and Whittier put these things
in the wastepaper-basket; and though only a literary nursery-maid
who provides moral pap for the young, I will follow their illustrious
example; for I shall have no time to eat or sleep if I try to satisfy
these dear unreasonable children'; and Mrs Jo swept away the entire
batch with a sigh of relief.

'I'll open the others and let you eat your breakfast in peace, liebe
Mutter,' said Rob, who often acted as her secretary. 'Here's one from
the South'; and breaking an imposing seal, he read:

'MADAM, As it has pleased Heaven to bless your efforts with a large
fortune, I feel no hesitation in asking you to supply funds to purchase
a new communion-service for our church. To whatever denomination you
belong, you will of course respond with liberality to such a request,

'Respectfully yours,

'MRS X.Y. ZAVIER'


'Send a civil refusal, dear. All I have to give must go to feed and
clothe the poor at my gates. That is my thank-offering for success. Go
on,' answered his mother, with a grateful glance about her happy home.

'A literary youth of eighteen proposes that you put your name to a novel
he has written; and after the first edition your name is to be taken off
and his put on. There's a cool proposal for you. I guess you won't agree
to that, in spite of your soft-heartedness towards most of the young
scribblers.'

'Couldn't be done. Tell him so kindly, and don't let him send the
manuscript. I have seven on hand now, and barely time to read my own,'
said Mrs Jo, pensively fishing a small letter out of the slop-bowl and
opening it with care, because the down-hill address suggested that a
child wrote it.

'I will answer this myself. A little sick girl wants a book, and she
shall have it, but I can't write sequels to all the rest to please her.
I should never come to an end if I tried to suit these voracious little
Oliver Twists, clamouring for more. What next, Robin?'

'This is short and sweet.

'DEAR MRS BHAER, I am now going to give you my opinion of your works.
I have read them all many times, and call them first-rate. Please go
ahead.

'Your admirer,

'BILLY BABCOCK'



'Now that is what I like. Billy is a man of sense and a critic worth
having, since he had read my works many times before expressing his
opinion. He asks for no answer, so send my thanks and regards.'

'Here's a lady in England with seven girls, and she wishes to know your
views upon education. Also what careers they shall follow the oldest
being twelve. Don't wonder she's worried,' laughed Rob.

'I'll try to answer it. But as I have no girls, my opinion isn't worth
much and will probably shock her, as I shall tell her to let them run
and play and build up good, stout bodies before she talks about careers.
They will soon show what they want, if they are let alone, and not all
run in the same mould.'

'Here's a fellow who wants to know what sort of a girl he shall marry,
and if you know of any like those in your stories.'

'Give him Nan's address, and see what he'll get,' proposed Ted,
privately resolving to do it himself if possible.

'This is from a lady who wants you to adopt her child and lend her money
to study art abroad for a few years. Better take it, and try your hand
at a girl, mother.'

'No, thank you, I will keep to my own line of business. What is that
blotted one? It looks rather awful, to judge by the ink,' asked Mrs Jo,
who beguiled her daily task by trying to guess from the outside what
was inside her many letters. This proved to be a poem from an insane
admirer, to judge by its incoherent style.



         'TO J.M.B.

    'Oh, were I a heliotrope,
     I would play poet,
     And blow a breeze of fragrance
     To you; and none should know it.

    'Your form like the stately elm
     When Phoebus gilds the morning ray;
     Your cheeks like the ocean bed
     That blooms a rose in May.

    'Your words are wise and bright,
     I bequeath them to you a legacy given;
     And when your spirit takes its flight,
     May it bloom aflower in heaven.

    'My tongue in flattering language spoke,
     And sweeter silence never broke
     in busiest street or loneliest glen.
     I take you with the flashes of my pen.

    'Consider the lilies, how they grow;
     They toil not, yet are fair,
     Gems and flowers and Solomon's seal.
     The geranium of the world is J. M. Bhaer.

        'JAMES'



While the boys shouted over this effusion--which is a true one--their
mother read several liberal offers from budding magazines for her to
edit them gratis; one long letter from a young girl inconsolable because
her favourite hero died, and 'would dear Mrs Bhaer rewrite the tale, and
make it end good?' another from an irate boy denied an autograph, who
darkly foretold financial ruin and loss of favour if she did not
send him and all other fellows who asked autographs, photographs, and
auto-biographical sketches; a minister wished to know her religion;
and an undecided maiden asked which of her two lovers she should marry.
These samples will suffice to show a few of the claims made on a busy
woman's time, and make my readers pardon Mrs Jo if she did not carefully
reply to all.

'That job is done. Now I will dust a bit, and then go to my work. I'm
all behind-hand, and serials can't wait; so deny me to everybody, Mary.
I won't see Queen Victoria if she comes today.' And Mrs Bhaer threw down
her napkin as if defying all creation.

'I hope the day will go well with thee, my dearest,' answered her
husband, who had been busy with his own voluminous correspondence. 'I
will dine at college with Professor Plock, who is to visit us today. The
Junglings can lunch on Parnassus; so thou shalt have a quiet time.' And
smoothing the worried lines out of her forehead with his good-bye kiss,
the excellent man marched away, both pockets full of books, an old
umbrella in one hand, and a bag of stones for the geology class in the
other.

'If all literary women had such thoughtful angels for husbands, they
would live longer and write more. Perhaps that wouldn't be a blessing to
the world though, as most of us write too much now,' said Mrs Jo, waving
her feather duster to her spouse, who responded with flourishes of the
umbrella as he went down the avenue.

Rob started for school at the same time, looking so much like him with
his books and bag and square shoulders and steady air that his mother
laughed as she turned away, saying heartily: 'Bless both my dear
professors, for better creatures never lived!'

Emil was already gone to his ship in the city; but Ted lingered to steal
the address he wanted, ravage the sugar-bowl, and talk with 'Mum';
for the two had great larks together. Mrs Jo always arranged her own
parlour, refilled her vases, and gave the little touches that left it
cool and neat for the day. Going to draw down the curtain, she beheld an
artist sketching on the lawn, and groaned as she hastily retired to the
back window to shake her duster.

At that moment the bell rang and the sound of wheels was heard in the
road.

'I'll go; Mary lets 'em in'; and Ted smoothed his hair as he made for
the hall.

'Can't see anyone. Give me a chance to fly upstairs,' whispered Mrs Jo,
preparing to escape. But before she could do so, a man appeared at the
door with a card in his hand. Ted met him with a stern air, and his
mother dodged behind the window-curtains to bide her time for escape.

'I am doing a series of articles for the Saturday Tattler, and I
called to see Mrs Bhaer the first of all,' began the newcomer in the
insinuating tone of his tribe, while his quick eyes were taking in all
they could, experience having taught him to make the most of his time,
as his visits were usually short ones.

'Mrs Bhaer never sees reporters, sir.'

'But a few moments will be all I ask,' said the man, edging his way
farther in.

'You can't see her, for she is out,' replied Teddy, as a backward glance
showed him that his unhappy parent had vanished--through the window, he
supposed, as she sometimes did when hard bestead.

'Very sorry. I'll call again. Is this her study? Charming room!' And the
intruder fell back on the parlour, bound to see something and bag a fact
if he died in the attempt. 'It is not,' said Teddy, gently but firmly
backing him down the hall, devoutly hoping that his mother had escaped
round the corner of the house.

'If you could tell me Mrs Bhaer's age and birthplace, date of marriage,
and number of children, I should be much obliged,' continued the
unabashed visitor as he tripped over the door-mat.

'She is about sixty, born in Nova Zembla, married just forty years ago
today, and has eleven daughters. Anything else, sir?' And Ted's sober
face was such a funny contrast to his ridiculous reply that the reporter
owned himself routed, and retired laughing just as a lady followed by
three beaming girls came up the steps.

'We are all the way from Oshkosh, and couldn't go home without seein'
dear Aunt Jo. My girls just admire her works, and lot on gettin' a
sight of her. I know it's early; but we are goin' to see Holmes and
Longfeller, and the rest of the celebrities, so we ran out here fust
thing. Mrs Erastus Kingsbury Parmalee, of Oshkosh, tell her. We don't
mind waitin'; we can look round a spell if she ain't ready to see folks
yet.'

All this was uttered with such rapidity that Ted could only stand
gazing at the buxom damsels, who fixed their six blue eyes upon him so
beseechingly that his native gallantry made it impossible to deny them a
civil reply at least.

'Mrs Bhaer is not visible today--out just now, I believe; but you can
see the house and grounds if you like,' he murmured, falling back as the
four pressed in gazing rapturously about them.

'Oh, thank you! Sweet, pretty place I'm sure! That's where she writes,
ain't it? Do tell me if that's her picture! Looks just as I imagined
her!'

With these remarks the ladies paused before a fine engraving of the Hon.
Mrs Norton, with a pen in her hand and a rapt expression of countenance,
likewise a diadem and pearl necklace.

Keeping his gravity with an effort, Teddy pointed to a very bad portrait
of Mrs Jo, which hung behind the door, and afforded her much amusement,
it was so dismal, in spite of a curious effect of light upon the end of
the nose and cheeks as red as the chair she sat in.

'This was taken for my mother; but it is not very good,' he said,
enjoying the struggles of the girls not to look dismayed at the sad
difference between the real and the ideal. The youngest, aged twelve,
could not conceal her disappointment, and turned away, feeling as so
many of us have felt when we discover that our idols are very ordinary
men and women.

'I thought she'd be about sixteen and have her hair braided in two
tails down her back. I don't care about seeing her now,' said the honest
child, walking off to the hall door, leaving her mother to apologize,
and her sisters to declare that the bad portrait was 'perfectly lovely,
so speaking and poetic, you know, 'specially about the brow'.

'Come girls, we must be goin', if we want to get through today. You
can leave your albums and have them sent when Mrs Bhaer has written a
sentiment in 'em. We are a thousand times obliged. Give our best love
to your ma, and tell her we are so sorry not to see her.' Just as
Mrs. Erastus Kingsbury Parmalee uttered the words her eye fell upon a
middle-aged woman in a large checked apron, with a handkerchief tied
over her head, busily dusting an end room which looked like a study.

'One peep at her sanctum since she is out,' cried the enthusiastic lady,
and swept across the hall with her flock before Teddy could warn his
mother, whose retreat had been cut off by the artist in front, the
reporter at the back of the house--for he hadn't gone and the ladies in
the hall.

'They've got her!' thought Teddy, in comical dismay. 'No use for her to
play housemaid since they've seen the portrait.'

Mrs Jo did her best, and being a good actress, would have escaped if the
fatal picture had not betrayed her. Mrs Parmalee paused at the desk, and
regardless of the meerschaum that lay there, the man's slippers close
by, and a pile of letters directed to 'Prof. F. Bhaer', she clasped her
hands, exclaiming impressively: 'Girls, this is the spot where she wrote
those sweet, those moral tales which have thrilled us to the soul! Could
I--ah, could I take one morsel of paper, an old pen, a postage stamp
even, as a memento of this gifted woman?'

'Yes'm, help yourselves,' replied the maid, moving away with a glance at
the boy, whose eyes were now full of merriment he could not suppress.

The oldest girl saw it, guessed the truth, and a quick look at the
woman in the apron confirmed her suspicion. Touching her mother, she
whispered: 'Ma, it's Mrs Bhaer herself. I know it is.'

'No? yes? it is! Well, I do declare, how nice that is!' And hastily
pursuing the unhappy woman, who was making for the door, Mrs Parmalee
cried eagerly:

'Don't mind us! I know you're busy, but just let me take your hand and
then we'll go.'

Giving herself up for lost, Mrs Jo turned and presented her hand like
a tea-tray, submitting to have it heartily shaken, as the matron said,
with somewhat alarming hospitality:

'If ever you come to Oshkosh, your feet won't be allowed to touch the
pavement; for you'll be borne in the arms of the populace, we shall be
so dreadful glad to see you.'

Mentally resolving never to visit that effusive town, Jo responded
as cordially as she could; and having written her name in the albums,
provided each visitor with a memento, and kissed them all round, they at
last departed, to call on 'Longfeller, Holmes, and the rest'--who were
all out, it is devoutly to be hoped.

'You villain, why didn't you give me a chance to whip away? Oh, my dear,
what fibs you told that man! I hope we shall be forgiven our sins in
this line, but I don't know what is to become of us if we don't dodge.
So many against one isn't fair play.' And Mrs Jo hung up her apron in
the hall closet, with a groan at the trials of her lot.

'More people coming up the avenue! Better dodge while the coast is
clear! I'll head them off!' cried Teddy, looking back from the steps, as
he was departing to school.

Mrs Jo flew upstairs, and having locked her door, calmly viewed a young
ladies' seminary camp on the lawn, and being denied the house, proceed
to enjoy themselves by picking the flowers, doing up their hair,
eating lunch, and freely expressing their opinion of the place and its
possessors before they went.

A few hours of quiet followed, and she was just settling down to a long
afternoon of hard work, when Rob came home to tell her that the Young
Men's Christian Union would visit the college, and two or three of the
fellows whom she knew wanted to pay their respects to her on the way.

'It is going to rain, so they won't come, I dare say; but father thought
you'd like to be ready, in case they do call. You always see the boys,
you know, though you harden your heart to the poor girls,' said Rob, who
had heard from his brother about the morning visitations.

'Boys don't gush, so I can stand it. The last time I let in a party of
girls one fell into my arms and said, “Darling, love me!” I wanted to
shake her,' answered Mrs Jo, wiping her pen with energy.

'You may be sure the fellows won't do it, but they will want autographs,
so you'd better be prepared with a few dozen,' said Rob, laying out a
quire of notepaper, being a hospitable youth and sympathizing with those
who admired his mother.

'They can't outdo the girls. At X College I really believe I wrote
three hundred during the day I was there, and I left a pile of cards and
albums on my table when I came away. It is one of the most absurd and
tiresome manias that ever afflicted the world.'

Nevertheless Mrs Jo wrote her name a dozen times, put on her black silk,
and resigned herself to the impending call, praying for rain, however,
as she returned to her work.

The shower came, and feeling quite secure, she rumpled up her hair, took
off her cuffs, and hurried to finish her chapter; for thirty pages a day
was her task, and she liked to have it well done before evening. Josie
had brought some flowers for the vases, and was just putting the last
touches when she saw several umbrellas bobbing down the hill.

'They are coming, Aunty! I see uncle hurrying across the field to
receive them,' she called at the stair-foot.

'Keep an eye on them, and let me know when they enter the avenue.
It will take but a minute to tidy up and run down,' answered Mrs Jo,
scribbling away for dear life, because serials wait for no man, not even
the whole Christian Union en masse.

'There are more than two or three. I see half a dozen at least,' called
sister Ann from the hall door. 'No! a dozen, I do believe; Aunty, look
out; they are all coming! What shall we do?' And Josie quailed at the
idea of facing the black throng rapidly approaching.

'Mercy on us, there are hundreds! Run and put a tub in the back entry
for their umbrellas to drip into. Tell them to go down the hall and
leave them, and pile their hats on the table; the tree won't hold them
all. No use to get mats; my poor carpets!' And down went Mrs Jo to
prepare for the invasion, while Josie and the maids flew about dismayed
at the prospect of so many muddy boots.

On they came, a long line of umbrellas, with splashed legs and flushed
faces underneath; for the gentlemen had been having a good time all over
the town, undisturbed by the rain. Professor Bhaer met them at the gate,
and was making a little speech of welcome, when Mrs Jo, touched by their
bedraggled state, appeared at the door, beckoning them in. Leaving
their host to orate bareheaded in the wet, the young men hastened up the
steps, merry, warm, and eager, clutching off their hats as they came,
and struggling with their umbrellas, as the order was passed to march in
and stack arms.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, down the hall went seventy-five pairs of boots;
soon seventy-five umbrellas dripped sociably in the hospitable tub,
while their owners swarmed all over the lower part of the house; and
seventy-five hearty hands were shaken by the hostess without a murmur,
though some were wet, some very warm, and nearly all bore trophies of
the day's ramble. One impetuous party flourished a small turtle as he
made his compliments; another had a load of sticks cut from noted
spots; and all begged for some memento of Plumfield. A pile of
cards mysteriously appeared on the table, with a written request for
autographs; and despite her morning vow, Mrs Jo wrote everyone, while
her husband and boys did the honours of the house.

Josie fled to the back parlour, but was discovered by exploring youths,
and mortally insulted by one of them, who innocently inquired if she was
Mrs Bhaer. The reception did not last long, and the end was better than
the beginning; for the rain ceased, and a rainbow shone beautifully
over them as the good fellows stood upon the lawn singing sweetly for a
farewell. A happy omen, that bow of promise arched over the young heads,
as if Heaven smiled upon their union, and showed them that above the
muddy earth and rainy skies the blessed sun still shone for all. Three
cheers, and then away they went, leaving a pleasant recollection of
their visit to amuse the family as they scraped the mud off the carpets
with shovels and emptied the tub half-full of water.

'Nice, honest, hard-working fellows, and I don't begrudge my half-hour
at all; but I must finish, so don't let anyone disturb me till
tea-time,' said Mrs Jo, leaving Mary to shut up the house; for papa and
the boys had gone off with the guests, and Josie had run home to tell
her mother about the fun at Aunt Jo's.

Peace reigned for an hour, then the bell rang and Mary came giggling
up to say: 'A queer kind of a lady wants to know if she can catch a
grasshopper in the garden.'

'A what?' cried Mrs Jo, dropping her pen with a blot; for of all the odd
requests ever made, this was the oddest.

'A grasshopper, ma'am. I said you was busy, and asked what she wanted,
and says she: “I've got grasshoppers from the grounds of several famous
folks, and I want one from Plumfield to add to my collection.” Did you
ever?' And Mary giggled again at the idea.

'Tell her to take all there are and welcome. I shall be glad to get rid
of them; always bouncing in my face and getting in my dress,' laughed
Mrs Jo.

Mary retired, to return in a moment nearly speechless with merriment.

'She's much obliged, ma'am, and she'd like an old gown or a pair
of stockings of yours to put in a rug she's making. Got a vest of
Emerson's, she says, and a pair of Mr. Holmes's trousers, and a dress of
Mrs Stowe's. She must be crazy!'

'Give her that old red shawl, then I shall make a gay show among the
great ones in that astonishing rug. Yes, they are all lunatics, these
lion-hunters; but this seems to be a harmless maniac, for she doesn't
take my time, and gives me a good laugh,' said Mrs Jo, returning to her
work after a glance from the window, which showed her a tall, thin lady
in rusty black, skipping wildly to and fro on the lawn in pursuit of the
lively insect she wanted.

No more interruptions till the light began to fade, then Mary popped her
head in to say a gentleman wished to see Mrs Bhaer, and wouldn't take no
for an answer.

'He must. I shall not go down. This has been an awful day, and I won't
be disturbed again,' replied the harassed authoress, pausing in the
midst of the grand finale of her chapter.

'I told him so, ma'am; but he walked right in as bold as brass. I guess
he's another crazy one, and I declare I'm 'most afraid of him, he's
so big and black, and cool as cucumbers, though I will say he's
good-looking,' added Mary, with a simper; for the stranger had evidently
found favour in her sight despite his boldness.

'My day has been ruined, and I will have this last half-hour to finish.
Tell him to go away; I won't go down,' cried Mrs Jo, fiercely.

Mary went; and listening, in spite of herself, her mistress heard first
a murmur of voices, then a cry from Mary, and remembering the ways of
reporters, also that her maid was both pretty and timid, Mrs Bhaer flung
down her pen and went to the rescue. Descending with her most majestic
air she demanded in an awe-inspiring voice, as she paused to survey the
somewhat brigandish intruder, who seemed to be storming the staircase
which Mary was gallantly defending:

'Who is this person who insists on remaining when I have declined to see
him?'

'I'm sure I don't know, ma'am. He won't give no name, and says you'll
be sorry if you don't see him,' answered Mary, retiring flushed and
indignant from her post.

'Won't you be sorry?' asked the stranger, looking up with a pair of
black eyes full of laughter, the flash of white teeth through a long
beard, and both hands out as he boldly approached the irate lady.

Mrs Jo gave one keen look, for the voice was familiar; then completed
Mary's bewilderment by throwing both arms round the brigand's neck,
exclaiming joyfully: 'My dearest boy, where did you come from?'

'California, on purpose to see you, Mother Bhaer. Now won't you be sorry
if I go away?' answered Dan, with a hearty kiss.

'To think of my ordering you out of the house when I've been longing to
see you for a year,' laughed Mrs Jo, and she went down to have a good
talk with her returned wanderer, who enjoyed the joke immensely.



Chapter 4. DAN

Mrs Jo often thought that Dan had Indian blood in him, not only because
of his love of a wild, wandering life, but his appearance; for as he
grew up, this became more striking. At twenty-five he was very tall,
with sinewy limbs, a keen, dark face, and the alert look of one whose
senses were all alive; rough in manner, full of energy, quick with word
and blow, eyes full of the old fire, always watchful as if used to keep
guard, and a general air of vigour and freshness very charming to
those who knew the dangers and delights of his adventurous life. He was
looking his best as he sat talking with 'Mother Bhaer', one strong brown
hand in hers, and a world of affection in his voice as he said:

'Forget old friends! How could I forget the only home I ever knew? Why,
I was in such a hurry to come and tell my good luck that I didn't stop
to fix up, you see; though I knew you'd think I looked more like a wild
buffalo than ever,' with a shake of his shaggy black head, a tug at his
beard, and a laugh that made the room ring.

'I like it; I always had a fancy for banditti--and you look just like
one. Mary, being a newcomer, was frightened at your looks and manners.
Josie won't know you, but Ted will recognize his Danny in spite of the
big beard and flowing mane. They will all be here soon to welcome you;
so before they come tell me more about yourself. Why, Dan, dear! it's
nearly two years since you were here! Has it gone well with you?' asked
Mrs Jo, who had been listening with maternal interest to his account of
life in California, and the unexpected success of a small investment he
had made.

'First-rate! I don't care for the money, you know. I only want a trifle
to pay my way--rather earn as I go, and not be bothered with the care of
a lot. It's the fun of the thing coming to me, and my being able to give
away, that I like. No use to lay up; I shan't live to be old and need
it,--my sort never do,' said Dan, looking as if his little fortune
rather oppressed him.

'But if you marry and settle somewhere, as I hope you will, you must
have something to begin with, my son. So be prudent and invest your
money; don't give it away, for rainy days come to all of us, and
dependence would be very hard for you to bear,' answered Mrs Jo with a
sage air, though she liked to see that the money-making fever had not
seized her lucky boy yet.

Dan shook his head, and glanced about the room as if he already found it
rather confined and longed for all out-of-doors again.

'Who would marry a jack-o'-lantern like me? Women like a steady-going
man; I shall never be that.'

'My dear boy, when I was a girl I liked just such adventurous fellows
as you are. Anything fresh and daring, free and romantic, is always
attractive to us womenfolk. Don't be discouraged; you'll find an anchor
some day, and be content to take shorter voyages and bring home a good
cargo.'

'What should you say if I brought you an Indian squaw some day?' asked
Dan, with a glimmer of mischief in the eyes that rested on a marble bust
of Galatea gleaming white and lovely in the corner.

'Welcome her heartily, if she was a good one. Is there a prospect of
it?' and Mrs Jo peered at him with the interest which even literary
ladies take in love affairs.

'Not at present, thank you. I'm too busy “to gallivant”, as Ted calls
it. How is the boy?' asked Dan, skilfully turning the conversation, as
if he had had enough of sentiment.

Mrs Jo was off at once, and expatiated upon the talents and virtues
of her sons till they came bursting in and fell upon Dan like two
affectionate young bears, finding a vent for their joyful emotions in a
sort of friendly wrestling-match; in which both got worsted, of course,
for the hunter soon settled them. The Professor followed, and tongues
went like mill-clappers while Mary lighted up and cook devoted herself
to an unusually good supper, instinctively divining that this guest was
a welcome one.

After tea Dan was walking up and down the long rooms as he talked, with
occasional trips into the hall for a fresher breath of air, his lungs
seeming to need more than those of civilized people. In one of these
trips he saw a white figure framed in the dark doorway, and paused to
look at it. Bess paused also, not recognizing her old friend, and quite
unconscious of the pretty picture she made standing, tall and slender,
against the soft gloom of the summer night, with her golden hair like a
halo round her head, and the ends of a white shawl blown out like wings
by the cool wind sweeping through the hail. 'Is it Dan?' she asked,
coming in with a gracious smile and outstretched hand.

'Looks like it; but I didn't know you, Princess. I thought it was a
spirit,' answered Dan, looking down at her with a curious softness and
wonder in his face.

'I've grown very much, but two years have changed you entirely'; and
Bess looked up with girlish pleasure at the picturesque figure before
her--for it was a decided contrast to the well-dressed people about her.

Before they could say more, Josie rushed in, and, forgetfull of the
newly acquired dignity of her teens, let Dan catch her up and kiss her
like a child. Not till he set her down did he discover she also was
changed, and exclaimed in comic dismay:

'Hallo! Why, you are growing up too! What am I going to do, with no
young one to play with? Here's Ted going it like a beanstalk, and Bess a
young lady, and even you, my mustard-seed, letting down your frocks and
putting on airs.'

The girls laughed, and Josie blushed as she stared at the tall man,
conscious that she had leaped before she looked. They made a pretty
contrast, these two young cousins--one as fair as a lily, the other
a little wild rose. And Dan gave a nod of satisfaction as he surveyed
them; for he had seen many bonny girls in his travels, and was glad that
these old friends were blooming so beautifully.

'Here! we can't allow any monopoly of Dan!' called Mrs Jo. 'Bring him
back and keep an eye on him, or he will be slipping off for another
little run of a year or two before we have half seen him.'

Led by these agreeable captors, Dan returned to the parlour to receive a
scolding from Josie for getting ahead of all the other boys and looking
like a man first.

'Emil is older; but he's only a boy, and dances jigs and sings sailor
songs just as he used to. You look about thirty, and as big and black
as a villain in a play. Oh, I've got a splendid idea! You are just the
thing for Arbaces in The Last Days of Pompeii. We want to act it; have
the lion and the gladiators and the eruption. Tom and Ted are going to
shower bushels of ashes down and roll barrels of stones about. We wanted
a dark man for the Egyptian; and you will be gorgeous in red and white
shawls. Won't he, Aunt Jo?'

This deluge of words made Dan clap his hands over his ears; and before
Mrs Bhaer could answer her impetuous niece the Laurences, with Meg and
her family, arrived, soon followed by Tom and Nan, and all sat down to
listen to Dan's adventures--told in brief yet effective manner, as the
varying expressions of interest, wonder, merriment, and suspense painted
on the circle of faces round him plainly showed. The boys all wanted to
start at once for California and make fortunes; the girls could hardly
wait for the curious and pretty things he had picked up for them in his
travels; while the elders rejoiced heartily over the energy and good
prospects of their wild boy.

'Of course you will want to go back for another stroke of luck; and I
hope you will have it. But speculation is a dangerous game, and you may
lose all you've won,' said Mr Laurie, who had enjoyed the stirring tale
as much as any of the boys, and would have liked to rough it with Dan as
well as they.

'I've had enough of it, for a while at least; too much like gambling.
The excitement is all I care for, and it isn't good for me. I have a
notion to try farming out West. It's grand on a large scale; and I feel
as if steady work would be rather jolly after loafing round so long. I
can make a beginning, and you can send me your black sheep to stock my
place with. I tried sheep-farming in Australia, and know something about
black ones, any way.'

A laugh chased away the sober look in Dan's face as he ended; and those
who knew him best guessed that he had learned a lesson there in San
Francisco, and dared not try again.

'That is a capital idea, Dan!' cried Mrs Jo, seeing great hope in this
desire to fix himself somewhere and help others. 'We shall know where
you are, and can go and see you, and not have half the world between us.
I'll send my Ted for a visit. He's such a restless spirit, it would
do him good. With you he would be safe while he worked off his surplus
energies and learned a wholesome business.'

'I'll use the “shubble and de hoe” like a good one, if I get a chance
out there; but the Speranza mines sound rather jollier,' said Ted,
examining the samples of ore Dan had brought for the Professor.

'You go and start a new town, and when we are ready to swarm we will
come out and settle there. You will want a newspaper very soon, and I
like the idea of running one myself much better than grinding away as
I do now,' observed Demi, panting to distinguish himself in the
journalistic line.

'We could easily plant a new college there. These sturdy Westerners are
hungry for learning, and very quick to see and choose the best,' added
ever-young Mr March, beholding with his prophetic eye many duplicates of
their own flourishing establishment springing up in the wide West.

'Go on, Dan. It is a fine plan, and we will back you up. I shouldn't
mind investing in a few prairies and cowboys myself,' said Mr Laurie,
always ready to help the lads to help themselves, both by his cheery
words and ever-open purse.

'A little money sort of ballasts a fellow, and investing it in land
anchors him--for a while, at least. I'd like to see what I can do, but
I thought I'd consult you before I decided. Have my doubts about it
suiting me for many years; but I can cut loose when I'm tired,' answered
Dan, both touched and pleased at the eager interest of these friends in
his plans.

'I know you won't like it. After having the whole world to roam over,
one farm will seem dreadfully small and stupid,' said Josie, who much
preferred the romance of the wandering life which brought her thrilling
tales and pretty things at each return.

'Is there any art out there?' asked Bess, thinking what a good study in
black and white Dan would make as he stood talking, half turned from the
light.

'Plenty of nature, dear; and that is better. You will find splendid
animals to model, and scenery such as you never saw in Europe to paint.
Even prosaic pumpkins are grand out there. You can play Cinderella in
one of them, Josie, when you open your theatre in Dansville,' said Mr
Laurie, anxious that no cold water should be thrown on the new plan.

Stage-struck Josie was caught at once, and being promised all the tragic
parts on the yet unbuilt stage, she felt a deep interest in the project
and begged Dan to lose no time in beginning his experiment. Bess also
confessed that studies from nature would be good for her, and wild
scenery improve her taste, which might grow over-nice if only the
delicate and beautiful were set before her.

'I speak for the practice of the new town,' said Nan, always eager
for fresh enterprises. 'I shall be ready by the time you get well
started--towns grow so fast out there.'

'Dan isn't going to allow any woman under forty in his place. He doesn't
like them, 'specially young and pretty ones,' put in Tom, who was raging
with jealousy, because he read admiration for Nan in Dan's eyes.

'That won't affect me, because doctors are exceptions to all rules.
There won't be much sickness in Dansville, everyone will lead such
active, wholesome lives, and only energetic young people will go there.
But accidents will be frequent, owing to wild cattle, fast riding,
Indian scrimmages, and the recklessness of Western life. That will just
suit me. I long for broken bones, surgery is so interesting and I get so
little here,' answered Nan, yearning to put out her shingle and begin.

'I'll have you, Doctor, and be glad of such a good sample of what we can
do in the East. Peg away, and I'll send for you as soon as I have a roof
to cover you. I'll scalp a few red fellows or smash up a dozen or so of
cowboys for your special benefit,' laughed Dan, well pleased with the
energy and fine physique which made Nan a conspicuous figure among other
girls.

'Thanks. I'll come. Would you just let me feel your arm? Splendid
biceps! Now, boys, see here: this is what I call muscle.' And Nan
delivered a short lecture with Dan's sinewy arm to illustrate it. Tom
retired to the alcove and glowered at the stars, while he swung his own
right arm with a vigour suggestive of knocking someone down.

'Make Tom sexton; he'll enjoy burying the patients Nan kills. He's
trying to get up the glum expression proper to the business. Don't
forget him, Dan,' said Ted, directing attention to the blighted being in
the corner.

But Tom never sulked long, and came out from his brief eclipse with the
cheerful proposition:

'Look here, we'll get the city to ship out to Dansville all the cases of
yellow fever, smallpox, and cholera that arrive; then Nan will be happy
and her mistakes won't matter much with emigrants and convicts.'

'I should advise settling near Jacksonville, or some such city, that you
might enjoy the society of cultivated persons. The Plato Club is there,
and a most ardent thirst for philosophy. Everything from the East is
welcomed hospitably, and new enterprises would flourish in such kindly
soil,' observed Mr March, mildly offering a suggestion, as he sat among
the elders enjoying the lively scene.

The idea of Dan studying Plato was very funny; but no one except naughty
Ted smiled, and Dan made haste to unfold another plan seething in that
active brain of his.

'I'm not sure the farming will succeed, and have a strong leaning
towards my old friends the Montana Indians. They are a peaceful tribe,
and need help awfully; hundreds have died of starvation because they
don't get their share. The Sioux are fighters, thirty thousand strong,
so Government fears 'em, and gives 'em all they want. I call that a
damned shame!' Dan stopped short as the oath slipped out, but his eyes
flashed, and he went on quickly: 'It is just that, and I won't beg
pardon. If I'd had any money when I was there I'd have given every cent
to those poor devils, cheated out of everything, and waiting patiently,
after being driven from their own land to places where nothing will
grow. Now, honest agents could do much, and I've a feeling that I ought
to go and lend a hand. I know their lingo, and I like 'em. I've got a
few thousands, and I ain't sure I have any right to spend it on myself
and settle down to enjoy it. Hey?'

Dan looked very manly and earnest as he faced his friends, flushed and
excited by the energy of his words; and all felt that little thrill of
sympathy which links hearts together by the tie of pity for the wronged.

'Do it, do it!' cried Mrs Jo, fired at once; for misfortune was much
more interesting to her than good luck.

'Do it, do it!' echoed Ted, applauding as if at a play, 'and take me
along to help. I'm just raging to get among those fine fellows and
hunt.'

'Let us hear more and see if it is wise,' said Mr Laurie, privately
resolving to people his as yet unbought prairies with Montana Indians,
and increase his donations to the society that sent missionaries to this
much wronged people.

Dan plunged at once into the history of what he saw among the Dakotas,
and other tribes in the Northwest, telling of their wrongs, patience,
and courage as if they were his brothers.

'They called me Dan Fire Cloud, because my rifle was the best they ever
saw. And Black Hawk was as good a friend as a fellow would want; saved
my life more than once, and taught me just what will be useful if I go
back. They are down on their luck, now, and I'd like to pay my debts.'

By this time everyone was interested, and Dansville began to lose its
charm. But prudent Mr Bhaer suggested that one honest agent among many
could not do much, and noble as the effort would be, it was wiser to
think over the matter carefully, get influence and authority from the
right quarters, and meantime look at lands before deciding.

'Well, I will. I'm going to take a run to Kansas and see how that
promises. Met a fellow in 'Frisco who'd been there, and he spoke well
of it. The fact is, there's so much to be done every where that I don't
know where to catch on, and half wish I hadn't any money,' answered Dan,
knitting his brows in the perplexity all kind souls feel when anxious to
help at the great task of the world's charity.

'I'll keep it for you till you decide. You are such an impetuous lad
you'll give it to the first beggar that gets hold of you. I'll turn it
over while you are prospecting, and hand it back when you are ready to
invest, shall I?' asked Mr Laurie, who had learned wisdom since the days
of his own extravagant youth.

'Thanky, sir, I'd be glad to get rid of it. You just hold on till I say
the word; and if anything happens to me this time, keep it to help some
other scamp as you helped me. This is my will, and you all witness it.
Now I feel better.' And Dan squared his shoulders as if relieved of
a burden, after handing over the belt in which he carried his little
fortune.

No one dreamed how much was to happen before Dan came to take his money
back, nor how nearly that act was his last will and testament; and while
Mr Laurie was explaining how he would invest it, a cheery voice was
heard singing:

    'Oh, Peggy was a jolly lass,
     Ye heave ho, boys, ye heave ho!
     She never grudged her Jack a glass,
     Ye heave ho, boys, ye heave ho!
     And when he sailed the raging main,
     She faithful was unto her swain,
     Ye heave ho, boys, ye heave ho!'

Emil always announced his arrival in that fashion, and in a moment he
came hurrying in with Nat, who had been giving lessons in town all day.
It was good to see the latter beam at his friend as he nearly shook his
hand off; better still to see how Dan gratefully remembered all he owed
Nat, and tried to pay the debt in his rough way; and best of all to
hear the two travellers compare notes and reel off yarns to dazzle the
land-lubbers and home-keepers.

After this addition the house would not contain the gay youngsters, so
they migrated to the piazza and settled on the steps, like a flock of
night-loving birds. Mr March and the Professor retired to the study, Meg
and Amy went to look after the little refection of fruit and cake which
was to come, and Mrs Jo and Mr Laurie sat in the long window listening
to the chat that went on outside.

'There they are, the flower of our flock!' she said, pointing to the
group before them. 'The others are dead or scattered, but these seven
boys and four girls are my especial comfort and pride. Counting Alice
Heath, my dozen is made up, and my hands are full trying to guide these
young lives as far as human skill can do it.'

'When we remember how different they are, from what some of them came,
and the home influences about others, I think we may feel pretty well
satisfied so far,' answered Mr Laurie soberly, as his eyes rested on
one bright head among the black and brown ones, for the young moon shone
alike on all.

'I don't worry about the girls; Meg sees to them, and is so wise and
patient and tender they can't help doing well; but my boys are more care
every year, and seem to drift farther away from me each time they go,'
sighed Mrs Jo. 'They will grow up, and I can only hold them by one
little thread, which may snap at any time, as it has with Jack and Ned.
Dolly and George still like to come back, and I can say my word to them;
and dear old Franz is too true ever to forget his own. But the three
who are soon going out into the world again I can't help worrying about.
Emil's good heart will keep him straight, I hope, and

    '“A sweet little cherub sits up aloft,
    To look out for the life of poor Jack.”'

Nat is to make his first flight, and he's weak in spite of your
strengthening influence; and Dan is still untamed. I fear it will take
some hard lesson to do that.'

'He's a fine fellow, Jo, and I almost regret this farming project. A
little polish would make a gentleman of him, and who knows what he might
become here among us,' answered Mr Laurie, leaning over Mrs Bhaer's
chair, just as he used to do years ago when they had mischievous secrets
together.

'It wouldn't be safe, Teddy. Work and the free life he loves will make a
good man of him, and that is better than any amount of polish, with
the dangers an easy life in a city would bring him. We can't change his
nature--only help it to develop in the right direction. The old impulses
are there, and must be controlled, or he will go wrong. I see that; but
his love for us is a safeguard, and we must keep a hold on him till he
is older or has a stronger tie to help him.'

Mrs Jo spoke earnestly, for, knowing Dan better than anyone else, she
saw that her colt was not thoroughly broken yet, and feared while she
hoped, knowing that life would always be hard for one like him. She was
sure that before he went away again, in some quiet moment he would give
her a glimpse of his inner self, and then she could say the word of
warning or encouragement that he needed. So she bided her time, studying
him meanwhile, glad to see all that was promising, and quick to detect
the harm the world was doing him. She was very anxious to make a success
of her 'firebrand' because others predicted failure; but having learned
that people cannot be moulded like clay, she contented herself with the
hope that this neglected boy might become a good man, and asked no more.
Even that was much to expect, so full was he of wayward impulses, strong
passions, and the lawless nature born in him. Nothing held him but
the one affection of his life--the memory of Plumfield, the fear
of disappointing these faithful friends, the pride, stronger than
principle, that made him want to keep the regard of the mates who always
had admired and loved him in spite of all his faults.

'Don't fret, old dear; Emil is one of the happy-go-lucky sort who always
fall on their legs. I'll see to Nat, and Dan is in a good way now. Let
him take a look at Kansas, and if the farm plan loses its charm, he
can fall back on poor Lo, and really do good out there. He's unusually
fitted for that peculiar task and I hope he'll decide to do it. Fighting
oppressors, and befriending the oppressed will keep those dangerous
energies of his busy, and the life will suit him better than sheep-folds
and wheat-fields.'

'I hope so. What is that?' and Mrs Jo leaned forward to listen, as
exclamations from Ted and Josie caught her ear.

'A mustang! a real, live one; and we can ride it. Dan, you are a
first-class trump!' cried the boy.

'A whole Indian dress for me! Now I can play Namioka, if the boys act
Metamora,' added Josie, clapping her hands.

'A buffalo's head for Bess! Good gracious, Dan, why did you bring such a
horrid thing as that to her?' asked Nan.

'Thought it would do her good to model something strong and natural.
She'll never amount to anything if she keeps on making namby-pamby gods
and pet kittens,' answered irreverent Dan, remembering that when he was
last here Bess was vibrating distractedly between a head of Apollo and
her Persian cat as models.

'Thank you; I'll try it, and if I fail we can put the buffalo up in the
hall to remind us of you,' said Bess, indignant at the insult offered
the gods of her idolatry, but too well bred to show it except in her
voice, which was as sweet and as cold as ice-cream.

'I suppose you won't come out to see our new settlement when the rest
do? Too rough for you?' asked Dan, trying to assume the deferential air
all the boys used when addressing their Princess.

'I am going to Rome to study for years. All the beauty and art of the
world is there, and a lifetime isn't long enough to enjoy it,' answered
Bess.

'Rome is a mouldy old tomb compared to the “Garden of the gods” and my
magnificent Rockies. I don't care a hang for art; nature is as much as I
can stand, and I guess I could show you things that would knock your old
masters higher than kites. Better come, and while Josie rides the horses
you can model 'em. If a drove of a hundred or so of wild ones can't show
you beauty, I'll give up,' cried Dan, waxing enthusiastic over the wild
grace and vigour which he could enjoy but had no power to describe.

'I'll come some day with papa, and see if they are better than the
horses of St Mark and those on Capitol Hill. Please don't abuse my gods,
and I will try to like yours,' said Bess, beginning to think the West
might be worth seeing, though no Raphael or Angelo had yet appeared
there.

'That's a bargain! I do think people ought to see their own country
before they go scooting off to foreign parts, as if the new world wasn't
worth discovering,' began Dan, ready to bury the hatchet.

'It has some advantages, but not all. The women of England can vote,
and we can't. I'm ashamed of America that she isn't ahead in all good
things,' cried Nan, who held advanced views on all reforms, and was
anxious about her rights, having had to fight for some of them.

'Oh, please don't begin on that. People always quarrel over that
question, and call names, and never agree. Do let us be quiet and happy
tonight,' pleaded Daisy, who hated discussion as much as Nan loved it.

'You shall vote as much as you like in our new town, Nan; be mayor and
aldermen, and run the whole concern. It's going to be as free as air,
or I can't live in it,' said Dan, adding, with a laugh, 'I see Mrs
Giddygaddy and Mrs Shakespeare Smith don't agree any better than they
used to.'

'If everyone agreed, we should never get on. Daisy is a dear, but
inclined to be an old fogy; so I stir her up; and next fall she will go
and vote with me. Demi will escort us to do the one thing we are allowed
to do as yet.'

'Will you take 'em, Deacon?' asked Dan, using the old name as if he
liked it. 'It works capitally in Wyoming.'

'I shall be proud to do it. Mother and the aunts go every year, and
Daisy will come with me. She is my better half still; and I don't mean
to leave her behind in anything,' said Demi, with an arm round his
sister of whom he was fonder than ever.

Dan looked at them wistfully, thinking how sweet it must be to have such
a tie; and his lonely youth seemed sadder than ever as he recalled its
struggles. A gusty sigh from Tom made sentiment impossible, as he said
pensively:

'I always wanted to be a twin. It's so sociable and so cosy to have
someone glad to lean on a fellow and comfort him, if other girls are
cruel.'

As Tom's unrequited passion was the standing joke of the family, this
allusion produced a laugh, which Nan increased by whipping out a bottle
of Nux, saying, with her professional air:

'I knew you ate too much lobster for tea. Take four pellets, and your
dyspepsia will be all right. Tom always sighs and is silly when he's
overeaten.'

'I'll take 'em. These are the only sweet things you ever give me.' And
Tom gloomily crunched his dose.

'“Who can minister to a mind diseased, or pluck out a rooted sorrow?”
 quoted Josie tragically from her perch on the railing.

'Come with me, Tommy, and I'll make a man of you. Drop your pills and
powders, and cavort round the world a spell, and you'll soon forget
you've got a heart, or a stomach either,' said Dan, offering his one
panacea for all ills.

'Ship with me, Tom. A good fit of seasickness will set you up, and
a stiff north-easter blow your blue-devils away. Come along as
surgeon--easy berth, and no end of larks.'

    '“And if your Nancy frowns, my lad,
      And scorns a jacket blue,
      Just hoist your sails for other ports,
      And find a maid more true.”'

added Emil, who had a fragment of song to cheer every care and sorrow,
and freely offered them to his friends.

'Perhaps I'll think of it when I've got my diploma. I'm not going to
grind three mortal years and have nothing to show for it. Till then,--'

'I'll never desert Mrs Micawber,' interrupted Teddy, with a gurgling
sob. Tom immediately rolled him off the step into the wet grass below;
and by the time this slight skirmish was over, the jingle of teaspoons
suggested refreshments of a more agreeable sort. In former times the
little girls waited on the boys, to save confusion; now the young men
flew to serve the ladies, young and old; and that slight fact showed
plainly how the tables were turned by time. And what a pleasant
arrangement it was! Even Josie sat still, and let Emil bring her
berries; enjoying her young lady-hood, till Ted stole her cake, when she
forgot manners, and chastised him with a rap on the knuckles. As guest
of honour, Dan was only allowed to wait on Bess, who still held the
highest place in this small world. Tom carefully selected the best of
everything for Nan, to be crushed by the remark:

'I never eat at this hour; and you will have a nightmare if you do.'

So, dutifully curbing the pangs of hunger, he gave the plate to Daisy,
and chewed rose-leaves for his supper.

When a surprising quantity of wholesome nourishment had been consumed,
someone said, 'Let's sing!' and a tuneful hour followed. Nat fiddled,
Demi piped, Dan strummed the old banjo, and Emil warbled a doleful
ballad about the wreck of the Bounding Betsey; then everybody joined
in the old songs till there was very decidedly 'music in the air'; and
passers-by said, as they listened smiling: 'Old Plum is gay tonight!'

When all had gone Dan lingered on the piazza, enjoying the balmy wind
that blew up from the hayfields, and brought the breath of flowers from
Parnassus; and as he leaned there romantically in the moonlight, Mrs Jo
came to shut the door.

'Dreaming dreams, Dan?' she asked, thinking the tender moment might have
come. Imagine the shock when, instead of some interesting confidence or
affectionate word, Dan swung round, saying bluntly:

'I was wishing I could smoke.'

Mrs Jo laughed at the downfall of her hopes, and answered kindly:

'You may, in your room; but don't set the house afire.'

Perhaps Dan saw a little disappointment in her face, or the memory of
the sequel of that boyish frolic touched his heart; for he stooped and
kissed her, saying in a whisper: 'Good night, mother.' And Mrs Jo was
half satisfied.



Chapter 5. VACATION

Everyone was glad of a holiday next morning, and all lingered over the
breakfast-table, till Mrs Jo suddenly exclaimed:

'Why, there's a dog!' And on the threshold of the door appeared a great
deer-hound, standing motionless, with his eyes fixed on Dan.

'Hallo, old boy! Couldn't you wait till I came for you? Have you cut
away on the sly? Own up now, and take your whipping like a man,' said
Dan, rising to meet the dog, who reared on his hind legs to look his
master in the face and bark as if uttering an indignant denial of any
disobedience.

'All right; Don never lies.' And Dan gave the tall beast a hug, adding
as he glanced out of the window, where a man and horse were seen
approaching:

'I left my plunder at the hotel over night, not knowing how I should
find you. Come out and see Octoo, my mustang; she's a beauty.' And Dan
was off, with the family streaming after him, to welcome the newcomer.

They found her preparing to go up the steps in her eagerness to reach
her master, to the great dismay of the man, who was holding her back.

'Let her come,' called Dan; 'she climbs like a cat and jumps like a
deer. Well, my girl, do you want a gallop?' he asked, as the pretty
creature clattered up to him and whinnied with pleasure as he rubbed her
nose and slapped her glossy flank.

'That's what I call a horse worth having,' said Ted, full of admiration
and delight; for he was to have the care of her during Dan's absence.

'What intelligent eyes! She looks as if she would speak,' said Mrs Jo.

'She talks like a human in her way. Very little that she don't know.
Hey, old Lass?' and Dan laid his cheek to hers as if the little black
mare was very dear to him.

'What does “Octoo” mean?' asked Rob.

'Lightning; she deserves it, as you'll see. Black Hawk gave her to me
for my rifle, and we've had high times together out yonder. She's saved
my life more than once. Do you see that scar?'

Dan pointed to a small one, half hidden by the long mane; and standing
with his arm about Octoo's neck, he told the story of it.

'Black Hawk and I were after buffalo one time, but didn't find 'em as
soon as we expected; so our food gave out, and there we were a hundred
miles from Red Deer River, where our camp was. I thought we were done
for, but my brave pal says: “Now I'll show you how we can live till
we find the herds.” We were unsaddling for the night by a little pond;
there wasn't a living creature in sight anywhere, not even a bird, and
we could see for miles over the prairies. What do you think we did?' And
Dan looked into the faces round him.

'Ate worms like the Australian fellows,' said Rob. 'Boiled grass or
leaves,' added Mrs Jo.

'Perhaps filled the stomach with clay, as we read of savages doing?'
suggested Mr Bhaer.

'Killed one of the horses,' cried Ted, eager for bloodshed of some sort.

'No; but we bled one of them. See, just here; filled a tin cup, put some
wild sage leaves in it, with water, and heated it over a fire of sticks.
It was good, and we slept well.'

'I guess Octoo didn't.' And Josie patted the animal, with a face full of
sympathy.

'Never minded it a bit. Black Hawk said we could live on the horses
several days and still travel before they felt it. But by another
morning we found the buffalo, and I shot the one whose head is in my
box, ready to hang up and scare brats into fits. He's a fierce old
fellow, you bet.'

'What is this strap for?' asked Ted, who was busily examining the Indian
saddle, the single rein and snaffle, with lariat, and round the neck the
leather band he spoke of.

'We hold on to that when we lie along the horse's flank farthest from
the enemy, and fire under the neck as we gallop round and round. I'll
show you.' And springing into the saddle, Dan was off down the steps,
tearing over the lawn at a great pace, sometimes on Octoo's back,
sometimes half hidden as he hung by stirrup and strap, and sometimes
off altogether, running beside her as she loped along, enjoying the
fun immensely; while Don raced after, in a canine rapture at being free
again and with his mates.

It was a fine sight--the three wild things at play, so full of vigour,
grace, and freedom, that for the moment the smooth lawn seemed a
prairie; and the spectators felt as if this glimpse of another life made
their own seem rather tame and colourless.

'This is better than a circus!' cried Mrs Jo, wishing she were a girl
again, that she might take a gallop on this chained lightning of a
horse. 'I foresee that Nan will have her hands full setting bones, for
Ted will break every one of his trying to rival Dan.'

'A few falls will not harm, and this new care and pleasure will be good
for him in all ways. But I fear Dan will never follow a plough after
riding a Pegasus like that,' answered Mr Bhaer, as the black mare leaped
the gate and came flying up the avenue, to stop at a word and stand
quivering with excitement, while Dan swung himself off and looked up for
applause.

He received plenty of it, and seemed more pleased for his pet's sake
than for his own. Ted clamoured for a lesson at once, and was soon at
ease in the queer saddle, finding Octoo gentle as a lamb, as he trotted
away to show off at college. Bess came hastening down the hill, having
seen the race from afar; and all collected on the piazza while Dan
'yanked' the cover off the big box the express had 'dumped' before the
door--to borrow his own words.

Dan usually travelled in light marching order, and hated to have more
luggage than he could carry in his well-worn valise. But now that he had
a little money of his own, he had cumbered himself with a collection of
trophies won by his bow and spear, and brought them home to bestow upon
his friends.

'We shall be devoured with moths,' thought Mrs Jo, as the shaggy head
appeared, followed by a wolf-skin rug for her feet, a bear-skin ditto
for the Professor's study, and Indian garments bedecked with foxes'
tails for the boys.

All nice and warm for a July day, but received with delight
nevertheless. Ted and Josie immediately 'dressed up', learned the
war-whoop, and proceeded to astonish their friends by a series of
skirmishes about the house and grounds, with tomahawks and bows and
arrows, till weariness produced a lull.

Gay birds' wings, plumy pampas grass, strings of wampum, and pretty work
in beads, bark, and feathers, pleased the girls. Minerals, arrow-heads,
and crude sketches interested the Professor; and when the box was empty,
Dan gave Mr Laurie, as his gift, several plaintive Indian songs written
on birch-bark.

'We only want a tent over us to be quite perfect. I feel as if I ought
to give you parched corn and dried meat for dinner, my braves. Nobody
will want lamb and green peas after this splendid pow-wow,' said Mrs Jo,
surveying the picturesque confusion of the long hall, where people lay
about on the rugs, all more or less bedecked with feathers, moccasins,
or beads.

'Moose noses, buffalo tongues, bear steaks, and roasted marrow-bones
would be the thing, but I don't mind a change; so bring on your baa-baa
and green meat,' answered Dan from the box, where he sat in state like a
chief among his tribe, with the great hound at his feet.

The girls began to clear up, but made little headway; for everything
they touched had a story, and all were thrilling, comical, or wild; so
they found it hard to settle to their work, till Dan was carried off by
Mr Laurie.

This was the beginning of the summer holiday, and it was curious to see
what a pleasant little stir Dan's and Emil's coming made in the quiet
life of the studious community; for they seemed to bring a fresh breeze
with them that enlivened everyone. Many of the collegians remained
during vacation; and Plumfield and Parnassus did their best to make
these days pleasant for them, since most came from distant States, were
poor, and had few opportunities but this for culture or amusement. Emil
was hail-fellow-well-met with men and maids, and went rollicking
about in true sailor fashion; but Dan stood rather in awe of the 'fair
girl-graduates', and was silent when among them, eyeing them as an eagle
might a flock of doves. He got on better with the young men, and was
their hero at once. Their admiration for his manly accomplishments did
him good; because he felt his educational defects keenly, and often
wondered if he could find anything in books to satisfy him as thoroughly
as did the lessons he was learning from Nature's splendidly illustrated
volume. In spite of his silence, the girls found out his good qualities,
and regarded 'the Spaniard', as they named him, with great favour;
for his black eyes were more eloquent than his tongue, and the kind
creatures tried to show their friendly interests in many charming ways.

He saw this, and endeavoured to be worthy of it--curbing his free
speech, toning down his rough manners, and watching the effect of all he
said and did, anxious to make a good impression. The social atmosphere
warmed his lonely heart, the culture excited him to do his best, and the
changes which had taken place during his absence, both in himself and
others, made the old home seem like a new world. After the life in
California, it was sweet and restful to be here, with these familiar
faces round him, helping him to forget much that he regretted, and to
resolve to deserve more entirely the confidence of these good fellows,
the respect of these innocent girls.

So there was riding, rowing, and picnicking by day, music, dancing, and
plays by night; and everyone said there had not been so gay a vacation
for years. Bess kept her promise, and let the dust gather on her beloved
clay while she went pleasuring with her mates or studied music with her
father, who rejoiced over the fresh roses in her cheeks and the laughter
which chased away the dreamy look she used to wear. Josie quarrelled
less with Ted; for Dan had a way of looking at her which quelled her
instantly, and had almost as good an effect upon her rebellious cousin.
But Octoo did even more for the lively youth, who found that her charms
entirely eclipsed those of the bicycle which had been his heart's
delight before. Early and late he rode this untiring beast, and began
to gain flesh--to the great joy of his mother, who feared that her
beanstalk was growing too fast for health.

Demi, finding business dull, solaced his leisure by photographing
everybody he could induce to sit or stand to him, producing some
excellent pictures among many failures; for he had a pretty taste in
grouping, and endless patience. He might be said to view the world
through the lens of his camera, and seemed to enjoy himself very much
squinting at his fellow beings from under a bit of black cambric. Dan
was a treasure to him; for he took well, and willingly posed in his
Mexican costume, with horse and hound, and all wanted copies of these
effective photographs. Bess, also, was a favourite sitter; and Demi
received a prize at the Amateur Photographic Exhibition for one of his
cousin with all her hair about her face, which rose from the cloud of
white lace draping the shoulders. These were freely handed round by the
proud artist; and one copy had a tender little history yet to be told.

Nat was snatching every minute he could get with Daisy before the long
parting; and Mrs Meg relented somewhat, feeling sure that absence would
quite cure this unfortunate fancy. Daisy said little; but her gentle
face was sad when she was alone, and a few quiet tears dropped on the
handkerchiefs she marked so daintily with her own hair. She was sure Nat
would not forget her; and life looked rather forlorn without the
dear fellow who had been her friend since the days of patty-pans and
confidences in the willow-tree. She was an old-fashioned daughter,
dutiful and docile, with such love and reverence for her mother that her
will was law; and if love was forbidden, friendship must suffice. So she
kept her little sorrow to herself, smiled cheerfully at Nat, and made
his last days of home-life very happy with every comfort and pleasure
she could give, from sensible advice and sweet words to a well-filled
work-bag for his bachelor establishment and a box of goodies for the
voyage.

Tom and Nan took all the time they could spare from their studies to
enjoy high jinks at Plumfield with their old friends; for Emil's next
voyage was to be a long one, Nat's absence was uncertain, and no one
ever knew when Dan would turn up again. They all seemed to feel that
life was beginning to grow serious; and even while they enjoyed those
lovely summer days together they were conscious that they were children
no longer, and often in the pauses of their fun talked soberly of their
plans and hopes, as if anxious to know and help one another before they
drifted farther apart on their different ways.

A few weeks were all they had; then the Brenda was ready, Nat was to
sail from New York, and Dan went along to see him off; for his own plans
fermented in his head, and he was eager to be up and doing. A farewell
dance was given on Parnassus in honour of the travellers, and all turned
out in their best array and gayest spirits. George and Dolly came with
the latest Harvard airs and graces, radiant to behold, in dress-suits
and 'crushed hats', as Josie called the especial pride and joy of their
boyish souls. Jack and Ned sent regrets and best wishes, and no one
mourned their absence; for they were among what Mrs Jo called her
failures. Poor Tom got into trouble, as usual, by deluging his head with
some highly scented preparation in the vain hope of making his tight
curls lie flat and smooth, as was the style. Unhappily, his rebellious
crop only kinked the closer, and the odour of many barbers' shops clung
to him in spite of his frantic efforts to banish it. Nan wouldn't allow
him near her, and flapped her fan vigorously whenever he was in sight;
which cut him to the heart, and made him feel like the Peri shut out
from Paradise. Of course his mates jeered at him, and nothing but the
unquenchable jollity of his nature kept him from despair.

Emil was resplendent in his new uniform, and danced with an abandon
which only sailors know. His pumps seemed to be everywhere, and his
partners soon lost breath trying to keep up with him; but the girls
all declared he steered like an angel, and in spite of his pace no
collisions took place; so he was happy, and found no lack of damsels to
ship with him.

Having no dress-suit, Dan had been coaxed to wear his Mexican costume,
and feeling at ease in the many-buttoned trousers, loose jacket, and gay
sash, flung his serape over his shoulder with a flourish and looked
his best, doing great execution with his long spurs, as he taught Josie
strange steps or rolled his black eyes admiringly after certain blonde
damsels whom he dared not address.

The mammas sat in the alcove, supplying pins, smiles, and kindly words
to all, especially the awkward youths new to such scenes, and the
bashful girls conscious of faded muslins and cleaned gloves. It was
pleasant to see stately Mrs Amy promenade on the arm of a tall country
boy, with thick boots and a big forehead, or Mrs Jo dance like a girl
with a shy fellow whose arms went like pump-handles, and whose face was
scarlet with confusion and pride at the honour of treading on the toes
of the president's wife. Mrs Meg always had room on her sofa for two
or three girls, and Mr Laurie devoted himself to these plain, poorly
dressed damsels with a kindly grace that won their hearts and made them
happy. The good Professor circulated like refreshments, and his cheerful
face shone on all alike, while Mr March discussed Greek comedy in the
study with such serious gentlemen as never unbent their mighty minds to
frivolous joys.

The long music-room, parlour, hall, and piazza were full of white-gowned
maidens with attendant shadows; the air was full of lively voices,
and hearts and feet went lightly together as the home band played
vigorously, and the friendly moon did her best to add enchantment to the
scene.

'Pin me up, Meg; that dear Dunbar boy has nearly rent me “in sunder”, as
Mr Peggotty would say. But didn't he enjoy himself, bumping against his
fellow men and swinging me round like a mop. On these occasions I find
that I'm not as young as I was, nor as light of foot. In ten years more
we shall be meal-bags, sister; so be resigned.' And Mrs Jo subsided into
a corner, much dishevelled by her benevolent exertions.

'I know I shall be stout; but you won't keep still long enough to get
much flesh on your bones, dear; and Amy will always keep her lovely
figure. She looks about eighteen tonight, in her white gown and roses,'
answered Meg, busily pinning up one sister's torn frills, while her eyes
fondly followed the other's graceful movements; for Meg still adored Amy
in the old fashion.

It was one of the family jokes that Jo was getting fat, and she kept it
up, though as yet she had only acquired a matronly outline, which was
very becoming. They were laughing over the impending double chins, when
Mr Laurie came off duty for a moment.

'Repairing damages as usual, Jo? You never could take a little gentle
exercise without returning in rags. Come and have a quiet stroll with me
and cool off before supper. I've a series of pretty tableaux to show
you while Meg listens to the raptures of lisping Miss Carr, whom I made
happy by giving her Demi for a partner.'

As he spoke, Laurie led Jo to the music-room, nearly empty now after a
dance which sent the young people into garden and hall. Pausing before
the first of the four long windows that opened on a very wide piazza, he
pointed to a group outside, saying: 'The name of this is “Jack Ashore”.'

A pair of long, blue legs, ending in very neat pumps, hung from the
veranda roof among the vines; and roses, gathered by unseen hands,
evidently appertaining to aforesaid legs, were being dropped into the
laps of several girls perched like a flock of white birds on the railing
below; while a manly voice 'fell like a falling star', as it sung this
pensive ditty to a most appreciative audience:

             MARY'S DREAM

    The moon had climbed the eastern hill
    Which rises o'er the sands of Dee,
    And from its highest summit shed
    A silver light on tower and tree,
    When Mary laid her down to sleep
    (Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea);
    When soft and low a voice was heard,
    Saying, 'Mary, weep no more for me.'

    She from her pillow gently raised
    Her head, to see who there might be,
    And saw young Sandy, shivering stand
    With visage pale and hollow e'e.
    'Oh Mary dear, cold is my clay;
    It lies beneath the stormy sea;
    Far, far from thee, I sleep in death.
    Dear Mary, weep no more for me.

    'Three stormy nights and stormy days
    We tossed upon the raging main.
    And long we strove our bark to save;
    But all our striving was in vain.
    E'en then, when terror chilled my blood,
    My heart was filled with love of thee.
    The storm is past, and I'm at rest;
    So, Mary, weep no more for me.

    'Oh maiden dear, yourself prepare;
    We soon shall meet upon that shore
    Where love is free from doubt and care,
    And you and I shall part no more.'
    Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
    No more her Sandy did she see;
    But soft the passing spirit said,
    'Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.'

'The constant jollity of that boy is worth a fortune to him. He'll never
sink with such a buoyant spirit to keep him afloat through life,' said
Mrs Jo, as the roses were tossed back with much applause when the song
ended.

'Not he; and it's a blessing to be grateful for, isn't it? We moody
people know its worth. Glad you like my first tableau. Come and see
number two. Hope it isn't spoilt; it was very pretty just now. This is
“Othello telling his adventures to Desdemona”.'

The second window framed a very picturesque group of three. Mr March in
an arm-chair, with Bess on a cushion at his feet, was listening to Dan,
who, leaning against a pillar, was talking with unusual animation. The
old man was in shadow, but little Desdemona was looking up with the
moonlight full upon her into young Othello's face, quite absorbed in the
story he was telling so well. The gay drapery over Dan's shoulder,
his dark colouring, and the gesture of his arm made the picture very
striking, and both spectators enjoyed it with silent pleasure, till Mrs
Jo said in a quick whisper:

'I'm glad he's going away. He's too picturesque to have here among so
many romantic girls. Afraid his “grand, gloomy, and peculiar” style will
be too much for our simple maids.'

'No danger; Dan is in the rough as yet, and always will be, I fancy;
though he is improving in many ways. How well Queenie looks in that soft
light!'

'Dear little Goldilocks looks well everywhere.' And with a backward
glance full of pride and fondness, Mrs Jo went on. But that scene
returned to her long afterward and her own prophetic words also.

Number three was a tragical tableau at first sight; and Mr Laurie
stifled a laugh as he whispered 'The Wounded Knight', pointing to Tom
with his head enveloped in a large handkerchief, as he knelt before Nan,
who was extracting a thorn or splinter from the palm of his hand
with great skill, to judge from the patient's blissful expression of
countenance.

'Do I hurt you?' she asked, turning the hand to the moonlight for a
better view.

'Not a bit; dig away; I like it,' answered Tom, regardless of his aching
knees and the damage done to his best trousers.

'I won't keep you long.'

'Hours, if you please. Never so happy as here.'

Quite unmoved by this tender remark, Nan put on a pair of large,
round-eyed glasses, saying in a matter-of-fact tone: 'Now I see it. Only
a splinter, and there it is.

'My hand is bleeding; won't you bind it up?' asked Tom, wishing to
prolong the situation.

'Nonsense; suck it. Only take care of it tomorrow if you dissect. Don't
want any more blood-poisoning.'

'That was the only time you were kind to me. Wish I'd lost my arm.'

'I wish you'd lost your head; it smells more like turpentine and
kerosene than ever. Do take a run in the garden and air it.'

Fearing to betray themselves by laughter, the watchers went on, leaving
the Knight to rush away in despair, and the Lady to bury her nose in the
cup of a tall lily for refreshment.

'Poor Tom, his fate is a hard one, and he's wasting his time! Do advise
him to quit philandering and go to work, Jo.'

'I have, Teddy, often; but it will take some great shock to make that
boy wise. I wait with interest to see what it will be. Bless me! what is
all this?'

She might well ask; for on a rustic stool stood Ted trying to pose on
one foot, with the other extended, and both hands waving in the air.
Josie, with several young mates, was watching his contortions with deep
interest as they talked about 'little wings', 'gilded wire twisted', and
a 'cunning skull-cap'.

'This might be called “Mercury Trying to Fly”,' said Mr Laurie, as they
peeped through the lace curtains.

'Bless the long legs of that boy! how does he expect to manage them?
They are planning for the Owlsdark Marbles, and a nice muddle they will
make of my gods and goddesses with no one to show them how,' answered
Mrs Jo, enjoying this scene immensely. 'Now, he's got it!' 'That's
perfectly splendid!' 'See how long you can keep so!' cried the girls, as
Ted managed to maintain his equilibrium a moment by resting one toe
on the trellis. Unfortunately this brought all his weight on the other
foot; the straw seat of the stool gave way, and the flying Mercury
came down with a crash, amid shrieks of laughter from the girls. Being
accustomed to ground and lofty tumbling, he quickly recovered himself,
and hopped gaily about, with one leg through the stool as he improvised
a classic jig.

'Thanks for four nice little pictures. You have given me an idea, and I
think some time we will get up regular tableaux of this sort and march
our company round a set of dissolving views. New and striking; I'll
propose it to our manager and give you all the glory,' said Mrs Jo, as
they strolled towards the room whence came the clash of glass and china,
and glimpses of agitated black coats.

Let us follow the example of our old friends and stroll about among the
young people, eavesdropping, so gathering up various little threads to
help in the weaving of the story. George and Dolly were at supper,
and having served the ladies in their care stood in a corner absorbing
nourishment of all kinds with a vain attempt to conceal hearty appetites
under an air of elegant indifference.

'Good spread, this; Laurence does things in style. First-rate coffee,
but no wine, and that's a mistake,' said Stuffy, who still deserved his
name, and was a stout youth with a heavy eye and bilious complexion.

'Bad for boys, he says. Jove! wish he could see us at some of our wines.
Don't we just “splice the main brace” as Emil says,' answered Dolly,
the dandy, carefully spreading a napkin over the glossy expanse of
shirt-front whereon a diamond stud shone like a lone star. His stutter
was nearly outgrown; but he, as well as George, spoke in the tone of
condescension, which, with the blase airs they assumed, made a very
funny contrast to their youthful faces and foolish remarks. Good-hearted
little fellows both, but top-heavy with the pride of being Sophs and the
freedom that college life gave them.

'Little Jo is getting to be a deuced pretty girl, isn't she?' said
George, with a long sigh of satisfaction as his first mouthful of ice
went slowly down his throat.

'H'm--well, fairish. The Princess is rather more to my taste. I like 'em
blonde and queenly and elegant, don't you know.'

'Yes, Jo is too lively; might as well dance with a grasshopper.
I've tried her, and she's one too many for me. Miss Perry is a nice,
easy-going girl. Got her for the german.'

'You'll never be a dancing man. Too lazy. Now I'll undertake to steer
any girl and dance down any fellow you please. Dancing's my forte.' And
Dolly glanced from his trim feet to his flashing gem with the defiant
air of a young turkey-cock on parade.

'Miss Grey is looking for you. Wants more grub. Just see if Miss
Nelson's plate is empty, there's a good fellow. Can't eat ice in a
hurry.' And George remained in his safe corner, while Dolly struggled
through the crowd to do his duty, coming back in a fume, with a splash
of salad dressing on his coat-cuff.

'Confound these country chaps! they go blundering round like so many
dor-bugs, and make a deuce of a mess. Better stick to books and not try
to be society men. Can't do it. Beastly stain. Give it a rub, and let me
bolt a mouthful, I'm starved. Never saw girls eat such a lot. It proves
that they ought not to study so much. Never liked co-ed,' growled Dolly,
much ruffled in spirit.

'So they do. 'Tisn't ladylike. Ought to be satisfied with an ice and
a bit of cake, and eat it prettily. Don't like to see a girl feed. We
hard-working men need it, and, by Jove, I mean to get some more of that
meringue if it's not all gone. Here, waiter! bring along that dish over
there, and be lively,' commanded Stuffy, poking a young man in a rather
shabby dress-suit, who was passing with a tray of glasses.

His order was obeyed promptly; but George's appetite was taken away
the next moment by Dolly's exclaiming, as he looked up from his damaged
coat, with a scandalized face:

'You've put your foot in it now, old boy! that's Morton, Mr Bhaer's
crack man. Knows everything, no end of a “dig”, and bound to carry off
all the honours. You won't hear the last of it in a hurry.' And Dolly
laughed so heartily that a spoonful of ice flew upon the head of a lady
sitting below him, and got him into a scrape also.

Leaving them to their despair, let us listen to the whispered chat of
two girls comfortably seated in a recess waiting till their escorts were
fed.

'I do think the Laurences give lovely parties. Don't you enjoy them?'
asked the younger, looking about her with the eager air of one unused to
this sort of pleasure.

'Very much, only I never feel as if I was dressed right. My things
seemed elegant at home, and I thought I'd be over over-dressed if
anything; but I look countrified and dowdy here. No time or money to
change now, even if I knew how to do it,' answered the other, glancing
anxiously at her bright pink silk grown, trimmed with cheap lace.

'You must get Mrs Brooke to tell you how to fix your things. She was
very kind to me. I had a green silk, and it looked so cheap and horrid
by the side of the nice dresses here I felt regularly unhappy about it,
and asked her how much a dress like one Mrs Laurence had would cost.
That looked so simple and elegant I thought it wouldn't be costly; but
it was India mull and Valenciennes lace, so, of course, I couldn't have
it. Then Mrs Brooke said: “Get some muslin to cover the green silk, and
wear hops or some white flowers, instead of pink, in your hair, and you
will have a pretty suit.” Isn't it lovely and becoming?' And Miss Burton
surveyed herself with girlish satisfaction; for a little taste had
softened the harsh green, and hop-bells became her red hair better than
roses.

'It's sweet: I've been admiring it. I'll do mine so and ask about my
purple one. Mrs Brooke has helped me to get rid of my headaches, and
Mary Clay's dyspepsia is all gone since she gave up coffee and hot
bread.'

'Mrs Laurence advised me to walk and run and use the gymnasium to cure
my round shoulders and open my chest, and I'm a much better figure than
I was.'

'Did you know that Mr Laurence pays all Amelia Merrill's bills? Her
father failed, and she was heartbroken at having to leave college; but
that splendid man just stepped in and made it all right.' 'Yes, and
Professor Bhaer has several of the boys down at his house evenings to
help them along so they can keep up with the rest; and Mrs Bhaer took
care of Charles Mackey herself when he had a fever last year. I do think
they are the best and kindest people in the world.'

'So do I, and my time here will be the happiest and most useful years of
my life.'

And both girls forgot their gowns and their suppers for a moment to look
with grateful, affectionate eyes at the friends who tried to care for
bodies and for souls as well as minds.

Now come to a lively party supping on the stairs, girls like foam at
the top, and a substratum of youths below, where the heaviest particles
always settle. Emil, who never sat if he could climb or perch, adorned
the newel-post; Tom, Nat, Demi, and Dan were camped on the steps, eating
busily, as their ladies were well served and they had earned a moment's
rest, which they enjoyed with their eyes fixed on the pleasing prospect
above them.

'I'm so sorry the boys are going. It will be dreadfully dull without
them. Now they have stopped teasing and are polite, I really enjoy
them,' said Nan, who felt unusually gracious tonight as Tom's mishap
kept him from annoying her.

'So do I; and Bess was mourning about it today, though as a general
thing she doesn't like boys unless they are models of elegance. She has
been doing Dan's head, and it is not quite finished. I never saw her so
interested in any work, and it's very well done. He is so striking and
big he always makes me think of the Dying Gladiator or some of those
antique creatures. There's Bess now. Dear child, how sweet she looks
tonight!' answered Daisy, waving her hand as the Princess went by with
Grandpa on her arm.

'I never thought he would turn out so well. Don't you remember how we
used to call him “the bad boy” and be sure he would become a pirate or
something awful because he glared at us and swore sometimes? Now he is
the handsomest of all the boys, and very entertaining with his stories
and plans. I like him very much; he's so big and strong and independent.
I'm tired of mollycoddles and book-worms,' said Nan in her decided way.

'Not handsomer that Nat!' cried loyal Daisy, contrasting two faces
below, one unusually gay, the other sentimentally sober even in the
act of munching cake. 'I like Dan, and am glad he is doing well; but
he tires me, and I'm still a little afraid of him. Quiet people suit me
best.'

'Life is a fight, and I like a good soldier. Boys take things too
easily, don't see how serious it all is and go to work in earnest. Look
at that absurd Tom, wasting his time and making an object of himself
just because he can't have what he wants, like a baby crying for the
moon. I've no patience with such nonsense,' scolded Nan, looking down at
the jovial Thomas, who was playfully putting macaroons in Emil's shoes,
and trying to beguile his exile as best he could.

'Most girls would be touched by such fidelity. I think it's beautiful,'
said Daisy behind her fan; for other girls sat just below.

'You are a sentimental goose and not a judge. Nat will be twice the man
when he comes back after his trip. I wish Tom was going with him. My
idea is that if we girls have any influence we should use it for the
good of these boys, and not pamper them up, making slaves of ourselves
and tyrants of them. Let them prove what they can do and be before they
ask anything of us, and give us a chance to do the same. Then we know
where we are, and shall not make mistakes to mourn over all our lives.'

'Hear, hear!' cried Alice Heath, who was a girl after Nan's own heart,
and had chosen a career, like a brave and sensible young woman. 'Only
give us a chance, and have patience till we can do our best. Now we are
expected to be as wise as men who have had generations of all the help
there is, and we scarcely anything. Let us have equal opportunities, and
in a few generations we will see what the judgement is. I like justice,
and we get very little of it.'

'Still shouting the battle-cry of freedom?' asked Demi, peering through
the banisters at this moment. 'Up with your flag! I'll stand by and lend
a hand if you want it. With you and Nan to lead the van, I think you
won't need much help.'

'You are a great comfort, Demi, and I'll call on you in all emergencies;
for you are an honest boy, and don't forget that you owe much to your
mother and your sisters and your aunts,' continued Nan. 'I do like men
who come out frankly and own that they are not gods. How can we think
them so when such awful mistakes are being made all the time by these
great creatures? See them sick, as I do, then you know them.'

'Don't hit us when we are down; be merciful, and set us up to bless and
believe in you evermore,' pleaded Demi from behind the bars.

'We'll be kind to you if you will be just to us. I don't say generous,
only just. I went to a suffrage debate in the Legislature last winter;
and of all the feeble, vulgar twaddle I ever heard, that was the worst;
and those men were our representatives. I blushed for them, and the
wives and mothers. I want an intelligent man to represent me, if I can't
do it myself, not a fool.'

'Nan is on the stump. Now we shall catch it,' cried Tom, putting up
an umbrella to shield his unhappy head; for Nan's earnest voice was
audible, and her indignant eye happened to rest on him as she spoke.

'Go on, go on! I'll take notes, and put in “great applause” liberally,'
added Demi, producing his ball-book and pencil, with his Jenkins air.

Daisy pinched his nose through the bars, and the meeting was rather
tumultuous for a moment, for Emil called: 'Avast, avast, here's a squall
to wind'ard'; Tom applauded wildly; Dan looked up as if the prospect of
a fight, even with words, pleased him, and Nat went to support Demi,
as his position seemed to be a good one. At this crisis, when everyone
laughed and talked at once, Bess came floating through the upper hall
and looked down like an angel of peace upon the noisy group below, as
she asked, with wondering eyes and smiling lips:

'What is it?'

'An indignation meeting. Nan and Alice are on the rampage, and we are at
the bar to be tried for our lives. Will Your Highness preside and judge
between us?' answered Demi, as a lull at once took place; for no one
rioted in the presence of the Princess.

'I'm not wise enough. I'll sit here and listen. Please go on.' And Bess
took her place above them all as cool and calm as a little statue of
Justice, with fan and nosegay in place of sword and scales.

'Now, ladies, free your minds, only spare us till morning; for we've
got a german to dance as soon as everyone is fed, and Parnassus expects
every man to do his duty. Mrs President Giddy-gaddy has the floor,'
said Demi, who liked this sort of fun better than the very mild sort of
flirtation which was allowed at Plumfield, for the simple reason that it
could not be entirely banished, and is a part of all education, co- or
otherwise.

'I have only one thing to say, and it is this,' began Nan soberly,
though her eyes sparkled with a mixture of fun and earnestness. 'I want
to ask every boy of you what you really think on this subject. Dan and
Emil have seen the world and ought to know their own minds. Tom and Nat
have had five examples before them for years. Demi is ours and we are
proud of him. So is Rob. Ted is a weathercock, and Dolly and George,
of course, are fogies in spite of the Annex, and girls at Girton going
ahead of the men. Commodore, are you ready for the question?'

'Ay, ay, skipper.'

'Do you believe in Woman's Suffrage?'

'Bless your pretty figger head! I do, and I'll ship a crew of girls any
time you say so. Aren't they worse than a press-gang to carry a fellow
out of his moorings? Don't we all need one as pilot to steer us safe to
port? and why shouldn't they share our mess afloat and ashore since we
are sure to be wrecked without 'em?'

'Good for you, Emil! Nan will take you for first mate after that
handsome speech,' said Demi, as the girls applauded, and Tom glowered.
'Now, Dan, you love liberty so well yourself, are you willing we should
have it?'

'All you can get, and I'll fight any man who's mean enough to say you
don't deserve it.'

This brief and forcible reply delighted the energetic President, and she
beamed upon the member from California, as she said briskly:

'Nat wouldn't dare to say he was on the other side even if he were, but
I hope he has made up his mind to pipe for us, at least when we take the
field, and not be one of those who wait till the battle is won, and then
beat the drums and share the glory.'

Mrs Giddy-gaddy's doubts were most effectually removed, and her sharp
speech regretted, as Nat looked up blushing, but with a new sort of
manliness in face and manner, saying, in a tone that touched them all:

'I should be the most ungrateful fellow alive if I did not love,
honour, and serve women with all my heart and might, for to them I owe
everything I am or ever shall be.'

Daisy clapped her hands, and Bess threw her bouquet into Nat's lap,
while the other girls waved their fans, well pleased; for real feeling
made his little speech eloquent.

'Thomas B. Bangs, come into court, and tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth, if you can,' commanded Nan, with a rap to
call the meeting to order.

Tom shut the umbrella, and standing up raised his hand, saying solemnly:

'I believe in suffrage of all kinds. I adore all women, and will die for
them at any moment if it will help the cause.'

'Living and working for it is harder, and therefore more honourable. Men
are always ready to die for us, but not to make our lives worth having.
Cheap sentiment and bad logic. You will pass, Tom, only don't twaddle.
Now, having taken the sense of the meeting we will adjourn, as the hour
for festive gymnastics has arrived. I am glad to see that old Plum
has given six true men to the world, and hope they will continue to be
staunch to her and the principles she has taught them, wherever they may
go. Now, girls, don't sit in draughts, and, boys, beware of ice-water
when you are warm.'

With this characteristic close Nan retired from office, and the girls
went to enjoy one of the few rights allowed them.



Chapter 6. LAST WORDS

The next day was Sunday, and a goodly troop of young and old set forth
to church.--some driving, some walking, all enjoying the lovely weather
and the happy quietude which comes to refresh us when the work and worry
of the week are over. Daisy had a headache; and Aunt Jo remained at home
to keep her company, knowing very well that the worst ache was in the
tender heart struggling dutifully against the love that grew stronger as
the parting drew nearer.

'Daisy knows my wishes, and I trust her. You must keep an eye on Nat,
and let him clearly understand that there is to be no “lovering”, or
I shall forbid the letter-writing. I hate to seem cruel, but it is too
soon for my dear girl to bind herself in any way,' said Mrs Meg, as she
rustled about in her best grey silk, while waiting for Demi, who always
escorted his pious mother to church as a peace-offering for crossing her
wishes in other things.

'I will, dear; I'm lying in wait for all three boys today, like an old
spider; and I will have a good talk with each. They know I understand
them, and they always open their hearts sooner or later. You look like a
nice, plump little Quakeress, Meg; and no one will believe that big
boy is your son,' added Mrs Jo, as Demi came in shining with Sunday
neatness, from his well-blacked boots to his smooth brown head.

'You flatter me, to soften my heart toward your boy. I know your ways,
Jo, and I don't give in. Be firm, and spare me a scene by and by. As for
John, as long as he is satisfied with his old mother, I don't care what
people think,' answered Mrs Meg, accepting with a smile the little posy
of sweet peas and mignonette Demi brought her.

Then, having buttoned her dove-coloured gloves with care, she took her
son's arm and went proudly away to the carriage, where Amy and Bess
waited, while Jo called after them, just as Marmee used to do:

'Girls, have you got nice pocket-handkerchiefs?' They all smiled at
the familiar words, and three white banners waved as they drove away,
leaving the spider to watch for her first fly. She did not wait long.
Daisy was lying down with a wet cheek on the little hymnbook out of
which she and Nat used to sing together; so Mrs Jo strolled about
the lawn, looking very like a wandering mushroom with her large buff
umbrella.

Dan had gone for a ten-mile stroll; and Nat was supposed to have
accompanied him, but presently came sneaking back, unable to tear
himself away from the Dovecote or lose a moment of nearness to his idol
that last day. Mrs Jo saw him at once, and beckoned him to a rustic seat
under the old elm, where they could have their confidences undisturbed,
and both keep an eye on a certain white-curtained window, half hidden in
vines.

'Nice and cool here. I'm not up to one of Dan's tramps today--it's so
warm, and he goes so like a steam-engine. He headed for the swamp where
his pet snakes used to live, and I begged to be excused,' said Nat,
fanning himself with his straw hat, though the day was not oppressive.

'I'm glad you did. Sit and rest with me, and have one of our good old
talks. We've both been so busy lately, I feel as if I didn't half know
your plans; and I want to,' answered Mrs Jo, feeling sure that though
they might start with Leipzig they would bring up at Plumfield.

'You are very kind, and there's nothing I'd like better. I don't realize
I'm going so far--suppose I shan't till I get afloat. It's a splendid
start, and I don't know how I can ever thank Mr Laurie for all he's
done, or you either,' added Nat, with a break in his voice; for he was a
tender-hearted fellow, and never forgot a kindness.

'You can thank us beautifully by being and doing all we hope and expect
of you, my dear. In the new life you are going to there will be a
thousand trials and temptations, and only your own wit and wisdom to
rely on. That will be the time to test the principles we have tried
to give you, and see how firm they are. Of course, you will make
mistakes--we all do; but don't let go of your conscience and drift along
blindly. Watch and pray, dear Nat; and while your hand gains skill, let
your head grow wiser, and keep your heart as innocent and warm as it is
now.'

'I'll try, Mother Bhaer, my very best to be a credit to you. I know I
shall improve in my music--can't help it there; but I never shall be
very wise, I'm afraid. As for my heart, you know, I leave it behind me
in good keeping.'

As he spoke, Nat's eyes were fixed on the window with a look of love and
longing that made his quiet face both manly and sad--plainly showing how
strong a hold this boyish affection had upon him.

'I want to speak of that; and I know you will forgive what seems hard,
because I do most heartily sympathize with you,' said Mrs Jo, glad to
have her say.

'Yes, do talk about Daisy! I think of nothing but leaving and losing
her. I have no hope--I suppose it is too much to ask; only I can't help
loving her, wherever I am!' cried Nat, with a mixture of defiance and
despair in his face that rather startled Mrs Jo.

'Listen to me and I'll try to give you both comfort and good advice. We
all know that Daisy is fond of you, but her mother objects, and being a
good girl she tries to obey. Young people think they never can change,
but they do in the most wonderful manner, and very few die of broken
hearts.' Mrs Jo smiled as she remembered another boy whom she had once
tried to comfort, and then went soberly on while Nat listened as if his
fate hung upon her lips.

'One of two things will happen. You will find someone else to love,
or, better still, be so busy and happy in your music that you will be
willing to wait for time to settle the matter for you both. Daisy will
perhaps forget when you are gone, and be glad you are only friends. At
any rate it is much wiser to have no promises made; then both are free,
and in a year or two may meet to laugh over the little romance nipped in
the bud.'

'Do you honestly think that?' asked Nat, looking at her so keenly that
the truth had to come; for all his heart was in those frank blue eyes of
his.

'No, I don't!' answered Mrs Jo. 'Then if you were in my place, what
would you do?' he added, with a tone of command never heard in his
gentle voice before.

'Bless me! the boy is in dead earnest, and I shall forget prudence
in sympathy I'm afraid,' thought Mrs Jo, surprised and pleased by the
unexpected manliness Nat showed.

'I'll tell you what I should do. I'd say to myself:

“I'll prove that my love is strong and faithful, and make Daisy's
mother proud to give her to me by being not only a good musician but an
excellent man, and so command respect and confidence. This I will try
for; and if I fail, I shall be the better for the effort, and find
comfort in the thought that I did my best for her sake.”'

'That is what I meant to do. But I wanted a word of hope to give me
courage,' cried Nat, firing up as if the smouldering spark was set
ablaze by a breath of encouragement. 'Other fellows, poorer and stupider
than I, have done great things and come to honour. Why may not I, though
I'm nothing now? I know Mrs Brooke remembers what I came from, but my
father was honest though everything went wrong; and I have nothing to
be ashamed of though I was a charity boy. I never will be ashamed of my
people or myself, and I'll make other folks respect me if I can.'

'Good! that's the right spirit, Nat. Hold to it and make yourself a man.
No one will be quicker to see and admire the brave work than my sister
Meg. She does not despise your poverty or your past; but mothers are
very tender over their daughters, and we Marches, though we have been
poor, are, I confess, a little proud of our good family. We don't care
for money; but a long line of virtuous ancestors is something to desire
and to be proud of.'

'Well, the Blakes are a good lot. I looked 'em up, and not one was
ever in prison, hanged, or disgraced in any way. We used to be rich and
honoured years ago, but we've died out and got poor, and father was a
street musician rather than beg; and I'll be one again before I'll do
the mean things some men do and pass muster.'

Nat was so excited that Mrs Jo indulged in a laugh to calm him, and both
went on more quietly.

'I told my sister all that and it pleased her. I am sure if you do well
these next few years that she will relent and all be happily settled,
unless that wonderful change, which you don't believe possible, should
occur. Now, cheer up; don't be lackadaisical and blue. Say good-bye
cheerfully and bravely, show a manly front, and leave a pleasant memory
behind you. We all wish you well and hope much for you. Write to me
every week and I'll send a good, gossipy answer. Be careful what you
write to Daisy; don't gush or wail, for sister Meg will see the letters;
and you can help your cause very much by sending sensible, cheery
accounts of your life to us all.'

'I will; I will; it looks brighter and better already, and I won't lose
my one comfort by any fault of my own. Thank you so much, Mother Bhaer,
for taking my side. I felt so ungrateful and mean and crushed when I
thought you all considered me a sneak who had no business to love such
a precious girl as Daisy. No one said anything, but I knew how you felt,
and that Mr Laurie sent me off partly to get me out of the way. Oh dear,
life is pretty tough sometimes, isn't it?' And Nat took his head in both
hands as if it ached with the confusion of hopes and fears, passions and
plans that proved boyhood was past and manhood had begun.

'Very tough, but it is that very struggle with obstacles which does us
good. Things have been made easy for you in many ways, but no one can do
everything. You must paddle your own canoe now, and learn to avoid the
rapids and steer straight to the port you want to reach. I don't know
just what your temptations will be for you have no bad habits and seem
to love music so well, nothing can lure you from it. I only hope you
won't work too hard.'

'I feel as if I could work like a horse, I'm so eager to get on; but
I'll take care. Can't waste time being sick, and you've given me doses
enough to keep me all right, I guess.' Nat laughed as he remembered
the book of directions Mrs Jo had written for him to consult on all
occasions.

She immediately added some verbal ones on the subject of foreign messes,
and having mounted one of her pet hobbies, was in full gallop when Emil
was seen strolling about on the roof of the old house, that being his
favourite promenade; for there he could fancy himself walking the deck,
with only blue sky and fresh air about him.

'I want a word with the Commodore, and up there we shall be nice and
quiet. Go and play to Daisy: it will put her to sleep and do you both
good. Sit in the porch, so I can keep an eye on you as I promised'; and
with a motherly pat on the shoulder Mrs Jo left Nat to his delightful
task and briskly ascended to the house-top, not up the trellis as of old
but by means of the stairs inside.

Emerging on the platform she found Emil cutting his initials afresh in
the wood-work and singing 'Pull for the Shore', like the tuneful mariner
he was.

'Come aboard and make yourself at home, Aunty,' he said, with a playful
salute. 'I'm just leaving a P.P.C. in the old place, so when you fly up
here for refuge you'll remember me.'

'Ah, my dear, I'm not likely to forget you. It doesn't need E. B. H. cut
on all the trees and railings to remind me of my sailor boy'; and Mrs Jo
took the seat nearest the blue figure astride the balustrade, not quite
sure how to begin the little sermon she wanted to preach.

'Well, you don't pipe your eye and look squally when I sheer off as you
used to, and that's a comfort. I like to leave port in fair weather and
have a jolly send-off all round. Specially this time, for it will be a
year or more before we drop anchor here again,' answered Emil, pushing
his cap back, and glancing about him as if he loved old Plum and would
be sorry never to see it any more.

'You have salt water enough without my adding to it. I'm going to be
quite a Spartan mother, and send my sons to battle with no wailing, only
the command:

“With your shield or on it”,' said Mrs Jo cheerfully, adding after a
pause: 'I often wish I could go too, and some day I will, when you are
captain and have a ship of your own--as I've no doubt you will before
long, with Uncle Herman to push you on.'

'When I do I'll christen her the Jolly Jo and take you as first mate.
It would be regular larks to have you aboard, and I'd be a proud man to
carry you round the world you've wanted to see so long and never could,'
answered Emil, caught at once by this splendid vision.

'I'll make my first voyage with you and enjoy myself immensely in spite
of seasickness and all the stormy winds that blow. I've always thought
I'd like to see a wreck, a nice safe one with all saved after great
danger and heroic deeds, while we clung like Mr Pillicoddy to main-top
jibs and lee scuppers.'

'No wrecks yet, ma'am, but we'll try to accommodate customers. Captain
says I'm a lucky dog and bring fair weather, so we'll save the dirty
weather for you if you want it,' laughed Emil, digging at the ship in
full sail which he was adding to his design.

'Thanks, I hope you will. This long voyage will give you new
experiences, and being an officer, you will have new duties and
responsibilities. Are you ready for them? You take everything so gaily,
I've been wondering if you realized that now you will have not only to
obey but to command also, and power is a dangerous thing. Be careful
that you don't abuse it or let it make a tyrant of you.'

'Right you are, ma'am. I've seen plenty of that, and have got my
bearings pretty well, I guess. I shan't have very wide swing with Peters
over me, but I'll see that the boys don't get abused when he's bowsed up
his jib. No right to speak before, but now I won't stand it.'

'That sounds mysteriously awful; could I ask what nautical torture
“bowsing jibs” is?' asked Mrs Jo, in a tone of deep interest.

'Getting drunk. Peters can hold more grog than any man I ever saw; he
keeps right side up, but is as savage as a norther, and makes things
lively all round. I've seen him knock a fellow down with a belaying pin,
and couldn't lend a hand. Better luck now, I hope.' And Emil frowned as
if he already trod the quarter-deck, lord of all he surveyed.

'Don't get into trouble, for even Uncle Herman's favour won't cover
insubordination, you know. You have proved yourself a good sailor; now
be a good officer, which is a harder thing, I fancy. It takes a fine
character to rule justly and kindly; you will have to put by your boyish
ways and remember your dignity. That will be excellent training for you,
Emil, and sober you down a bit. No more skylarking except here, so mind
your ways, and do honour to your buttons,' said Mrs Jo, tapping one
of the very bright brass ones that ornamented the new suit Emil was so
proud of.

'I'll do my best. I know my time for skirmshander (chaff) is over, and
I must steer a straighter course; but don't you fear, Jack ashore is a
very different craft from what he is with blue water under his keel. I
had a long talk with Uncle last night and got my orders; I won't forget
'em nor all I owe him. As for you, I'll name my first ship as I say, and
have your bust for the figurehead, see if I don't,' and Emil gave his
aunt a hearty kiss to seal the vow, which proceeding much amused Nat,
playing softly in the porch of the Dovecote.

'You do me proud, Captain. But, dear, I want to say one thing and then
I'm done; for you don't need much advice of mine after my good man has
spoken. I read somewhere that every inch of rope used in the British
Navy has a strand of red in it, so that wherever a bit of it is found
it is known. That is the text of my little sermon to you. Virtue, which
means honour, honesty, courage, and all that makes character, is the
red thread that marks a good man wherever he is. Keep that always and
everywhere, so that even if wrecked by misfortune, that sign shall still
be found and recognized. Yours is a rough life, and your mates not all
we could wish, but you can be a gentleman in the true sense of the word;
and no matter what happens to your body, keep your soul clean, your
heart true to those who love you, and do your duty to the end.'

As she spoke Emil had risen and stood listening with his cap off and a
grave, bright look as if taking orders from a superior officer; when she
ended, he answered briefly, but heartily:

'Please God, I will!'

'That's all; I have little fear for you, but one never knows when or how
the weak moment may come, and sometimes a chance word helps us, as so
many my dear mother spoke come back to me now for my own comfort and the
guidance of my boys,' said Mrs Jo, rising; for the words had been said
and no more were needed.

'I've stored 'em up and know where to find 'em when wanted. Often and
often in my watch I've seen old Plum, and heard you and Uncle talking
so plainly, I'd have sworn I was here. It is a rough life, Aunty, but
a wholesome one if a fellow loves it as I do, and has an anchor to
windward as I have. Don't worry about me, and I'll come home next year
with a chest of tea that will cheer your heart and give you ideas enough
for a dozen novels. Going below? All right, steady in the gangway! I'll
be along by the time you've got out the cake-box. Last chance for a good
old lunch ashore.'

Mrs Jo descended laughing, and Emil finished his ship whistling
cheerfully, neither dreaming when and where this little chat on the
house-top would return to the memory of one of them.

Dan was harder to catch, and not until evening did a quiet moment come
in that busy family; when, while the rest were roaming about, Mrs Jo sat
down to read in the study, and presently Dan looked in at the window.

'Come and rest after your long tramp; you must be tired,' she called,
with an inviting nod towards the big sofa where so many boys had
reposed--as much as that active animal ever does.

'Afraid I shall disturb you'; but Dan looked as if he wanted to stay his
restless feet somewhere.

'Not a bit; I'm always ready to talk, shouldn't be a woman if I were
not,' laughed Mrs Jo, as Dan swung himself in and sat down with an air
of contentment very pleasant to see.

'Last day is over, yet somehow I don't seem to hanker to be off.
Generally, I'm rather anxious to cut loose after a short stop. Odd,
ain't it?' asked Dan, gravely picking grass and leaves out of his hair
and beard; for he had been lying on the grass, thinking many thoughts in
the quiet summer night.

'Not at all; you are beginning to get civilized. It's a good sign, and
I'm glad to see it,' answered Mrs Jo promptly. 'You've had your swing,
and want a change. Hope the farming will give it to you, though helping
the Indians pleases me more: it is so much better to work for others
than for one's self alone.'

'So 'tis,' assented Dan heartily. 'I seem to want to root somewhere
and have folks of my own to take care of. Tired of my own company, I
suppose, now I've seen so much better. I'm a rough, ignorant lot, and
I've been thinking maybe I've missed it loafing round creation, instead
of going in for education as the other chaps did. Hey?'

He looked anxiously at Mrs Jo; and she tried to hide the surprise this
new outburst caused her; for till now Dan had scorned books and gloried
in his freedom.

'No; I don't think so in your case. So far I'm sure the free life was
best. Now that you are a man you can control that lawless nature better;
but as a boy only great activity and much adventure could keep you out
of mischief. Time is taming my colt, you see, and I shall yet be proud
of him, whether he makes a pack-horse of himself to carry help to the
starving or goes to ploughing as Pegasus did.'

Dan liked the comparison, and smiled as he lounged in the sofa-corner,
with the new thoughtfulness in his eyes.

'Glad you think so. The fact is it's going to take a heap of taming to
make me go well in harness anywhere. I want to, and I try now and then,
but always kick over the traces and run away. No lives lost yet; but I
shouldn't wonder if there was some time, and a general smash-up.'

'Why, Dan, did you have any dangerous adventures during this last
absence? I fancied so, but didn't ask before, knowing you'd tell me if I
could help in any way. Can I?' And Mrs Jo looked anxiously at him; for a
sudden lowering expression had come into his face, and he leaned forward
as if to hide it.

'Nothing very bad; but 'Frisco isn't just a heaven on earth, you know,
and it's harder to be a saint there than here,' he answered slowly;
then, as if he had made up his mind to ''fess', as the children used to
say, he sat up, and added rapidly, in a half-defiant, half-shamefaced
way, 'I tried gambling, and it wasn't good for me.'

'Was that how you made your money?'

'Not a penny of it! That's all honest, if speculation isn't a bigger
sort of gambling. I won a lot; but I lost or gave it away, and cut the
whole concern before it got the better of me.'

'Thank heaven for that! Don't try it again; it may have the terrible
fascination for you it has for so many. Keep to your mountains and
prairies, and shun cities, if these things tempt you, Dan. Better lose
your life than your soul, and one such passion leads to worse sins, as
you know better than I.'

Dan nodded, and seeing how troubled she was, said, in a lighter tone,
though still the shadow of that past experience remained:

'Don't be scared; I'm all right now; and a burnt dog dreads the fire. I
don't drink, or do the things you dread; don't care for 'em; but I
get excited, and then this devilish temper of mine is more than I can
manage. Fighting a moose or a buffalo is all right; but when you pitch
into a man, no matter how great a scamp he is, you've got to look out.
I shall kill someone some day; that's all I'm afraid of. I do hate a
sneak!' And Dan brought his fist down on the table with a blow that made
the lamp totter and the books skip.

'That always was your trial, Dan, and I can sympathize with you; for
I've been trying to govern my own temper all my life, and haven't learnt
yet,' said Mrs Jo, with a sigh. 'For heaven's sake, guard your demon
well, and don't let a moment's fury ruin all your life. As I said to
Nat, watch and pray, my dear boy. There is no other help or hope for
human weakness but God's love and patience.'

Tears were in Mrs Jo's eyes as she spoke; for she felt this deeply, and
knew how hard a task it is to rule these bosom sins of ours. Dan looked
touched, also uncomfortable, as he always did when religion of any sort
was mentioned, though he had a simple creed of his own, and tried to
live up to it in his blind way.

'I don't do much praying; don't seem to come handy to me; but I can
watch like a redskin, only it's easier to mount guard over a lurking
grizzly than my own cursed temper. It's that I'm afraid of, if I settle
down. I can get on with wild beasts first-rate; but men rile me awfully,
and I can't take it out in a free fight, as I can with a bear or a
wolf. Guess I'd better head for the Rockies, and stay there a spell
longer--till I'm tame enough for decent folks, if I ever am.' And Dan
leaned his rough head on his hands in a despondent attitude.

'Try my sort of help, and don't give up. Read more, study a little, and
try to meet a better class of people, who won't “rile”, but soothe and
strengthen you. We don't make you savage, I'm sure; for you have been as
meek as a lamb, and made us very happy.'

'Glad of it; but I've felt like a hawk in a hen-house all the same,
and wanted to pounce and tear more than once. Not so much as I used,
though,' added Dan, after a short laugh at Mrs Jo's surprised face.
'I'll try your plan, and keep good company this bout if I can; but a man
can't pick and choose, knocking about as I do.'

'Yes, you can this time; for you are going on a peaceful errand and can
keep clear of temptation if you try. Take some books and read; that's
an immense help; and books are always good company if you have the right
sort. Let me pick out some for you.' And Mrs Jo made a bee-line to the
well-laden shelves, which were the joy of her heart and the comfort of
her life.

'Give me travels and stories, please; don't want any pious works, can't
seem to relish 'em, and won't pretend I do,' said Dan, following to look
over her head with small favour at the long lines of well-worn volumes.

Mrs Jo turned short round, and putting a hand on either broad shoulder,
looked him in the eye, saying soberly:

'Now, Dan, see here; never sneer at good things or pretend to be worse
than you are. Don't let false shame make you neglect the religion
without which no man can live. You needn't talk about it if you don't
like, but don't shut your heart to it in whatever shape it comes. Nature
is your God now; she has done much for you; let her do more, and lead
you to know and love a wiser and more tender teacher, friend, and
comforter than she can ever be. That is your only hope; don't throw it
away, and waste time; for sooner or later you will feel the need of Him,
and He will come to you and hold you up when all other help fails.'

Dan stood motionless, and let her read in his softened eyes the dumb
desire that lived in his heart, though he had no words to tell it,
and only permitted her to catch a glimpse of the divine spark which
smoulders or burns clearly in every human soul. He did not speak; and
glad to be spared some answer which should belie his real feelings, Mrs
Jo hastened to say, with her most motherly smile:

'I saw in your room the little Bible I gave you long ago; it was well
worn outside, but fresh within, as if not much read. Will you promise me
to read a little once a week, dear, for my sake? Sunday is a quiet day
everywhere, and this book is never old nor out of place. Begin with the
stories you used to love when I told them to you boys. David was your
favourite, you remember? Read him again; he'll suit you even better now,
and you'll find his sins and repentance useful reading till you come to
the life and work of a diviner example than he. You will do it, for
love of mother Bhaer, who always loved her “firebrand” and hoped to save
him?'

'I will,' answered Dan, with a sudden brightening of face that was like
a sunburst through a cloud, full of promise though so short-lived and
rare.

Mrs Jo turned at once to the books and began to talk of them, knowing
well that Dan would not hear any more just then. He seemed relieved; for
it was always hard for him to show his inner self, and he took pride in
hiding it as an Indian does in concealing pain or fear.

'Hallo, here's old Sintram! I remember him; used to like him and his
tantrums, and read about 'em to Ted. There he is riding ahead with Death
and the Devil alongside.'

As Dan looked at the little picture of the young man with horse and
hound going bravely up the rocky defile, accompanied by the companions
who ride beside most men through this world, a curious impulse made Mrs
Jo say quickly:

'That's you, Dan, just you at this time! Danger and sin are near you in
the life you lead; moods and passions torment you; the bad father left
you to fight alone, and the wild spirit drives you to wander up and down
the world looking for peace and self-control. Even the horse and hound
are there, your Octoo and Don, faithful friends, unscared by the strange
mates that go with you. You have not got the armour yet, but I'm trying
to show you where to find it. Remember the mother Sintram loved and
longed to find, and did find when his battle was bravely fought, his
reward well earned? You can recollect your mother; and I have always
felt that all the good qualities you possess come from her. Act out the
beautiful old story in this as in the other parts, and try to give her
back a son to be proud of.'

Quite carried away by the likeness of the quaint tale to Dan's life and
needs, Mrs Jo went on pointing to the various pictures which illustrated
it, and when she looked up was surprised to see how struck and
interested he seemed to be. Like all people of his temperament he was
very impressionable, and his life among hunters and Indians had made him
superstitious; he believed in dreams, liked weird tales, and whatever
appealed to the eye or mind, vividly impressed him more than the wisest
words. The story of poor, tormented Sintram came back clearly as he
looked and listened, symbolizing his secret trials even more truly than
Mrs Jo knew; and just at that moment this had an effect upon him that
never was forgotten. But all he said was:

'Small chance of that. I don't take much stock in the idea of meeting
folks in heaven. Guess mother won't remember the poor little brat she
left so long ago; why should she?'

'Because true mothers never forget their children; and I know she was
one, from the fact that she ran away from the cruel husband, to save
her little son from bad influences. Had she lived, life would have been
happier for you, with this tender friend to help and comfort you. Never
forget that she risked everything for your sake, and don't let it be in
vain.'

Mrs Jo spoke very earnestly, knowing that this was the one sweet memory
of Dan's early life, and glad to have recalled it at this moment; for
suddenly a great tear splashed down on the page where Sintram kneels
at his mother's feet, wounded, but victorious over sin and death. She
looked up, well pleased to have touched Dan to the heart's core, as that
drop proved; but a sweep of the arm brushed away the tell-tale, and his
beard hid the mate to it, as he shut the book, saying with a suppressed
quiver in his strong voice:

'I'll keep this, if nobody wants it. I'll read it over, and maybe it
will do me good. I'd like to meet her anywhere, but don't believe I ever
shall.'

'Keep it and welcome. My mother gave it to me; and when you read it try
to believe that neither of your mothers will ever forget you.'

Mrs Jo gave the book with a caress; and simply saying: 'Thanks; good
night,' Dan thrust it into his pocket, and walked straight away to the
river to recover from this unwonted mood of tenderness and confidence.

Next day the travellers were off. All were in good spirits, and a cloud
of handkerchiefs whitened the air as they drove away in the old bus,
waving their hats to everyone and kissing their hands, especially to
mother Bhaer, who said in her prophetic tone as she wiped her eyes, when
the familiar rumble died away:

'I have a feeling that something is going to happen to some of them, and
they will never come back to me, or come back changed. Well, I can only
say, God be with my boys!'

And He was.



Chapter 7. THE LION AND THE LAMB

When the boys were gone a lull fell upon Plumfield, and the family
scattered to various places for brief outings, as August had come and
all felt the need of change. The Professor took Mrs Jo to the mountains.
The Laurences were at the seashore, and there Meg's family and the Bhaer
boys took turns to visit, as someone must always be at home to keep
things in order.

Mrs Meg, with Daisy, was in office when the events occurred which we are
about to relate. Rob and Ted were just up from Rocky Nook, and Nan
was passing a week with her friend as the only relaxation she allowed
herself. Demi was off on a run with Tom, so Rob was man of the house,
with old Silas as general overseer. The sea air seemed to have gone to
Ted's head, for he was unusually freakish, and led his gentle aunt and
poor Rob a life of it with his pranks. Octoo was worn out with the wild
rides he took, and Don openly rebelled when ordered to leap and show
off his accomplishments; while the girls at college were both amused and
worried by the ghosts who haunted the grounds at night, the unearthly
melodies that disturbed their studious hours, and the hairbreadth
escapes of this restless boy by flood and field and fire. Something
happened at length which effectually sobered Ted and made a lasting
impression on both the boys; for sudden danger and a haunting fear
turned the Lion into a lamb and the Lamb into a lion, as far as courage
went.

On the first of September--the boys never forgot the date--after a
pleasant tramp and good luck with their fishing, the brothers were
lounging in the barn; for Daisy had company, and the lads kept out of
the way.

'I tell you what it is, Bobby, that dog is sick. He won't play, nor eat,
nor drink, and acts queerly. Dan will kill us if anything happens to
him,' said Ted, looking at Don, who lay near his kennel resting a moment
after one of the restless wanderings which kept him vibrating between
the door of Dan's room and the shady corner of the yard, where his
master had settled him with an old cap to guard till he came back.

'It's the hot weather, perhaps. But I sometimes think he's pining for
Dan. Dogs do, you know, and the poor fellow has been low in his mind
ever since the boys went. Maybe something has happened to Dan. Don
howled last night and can't rest. I've heard of such things,' answered
Rob thoughtfully.

'Pooh! he can't know. He's cross. I'll stir him up and take him for a
run. Always makes me feel better. Hi, boy! wake up and be jolly'; and
Ted snapped his fingers at the dog, who only looked at him with grim
indifference.

'Better let him alone. If he isn't right tomorrow, we'll take him to Dr
Watkins and see what he says.' And Rob went on watching the swallows as
he lay in the hay polishing up some Latin verses he had made.

The spirit of perversity entered into Ted, and merely because he was
told not to tease Don he went on doing it, pretending that it was for
the dog's good. Don took no heed of his pats, commands, reproaches, or
insults, till Ted's patience gave out; and seeing a convenient switch
near by he could not resist the temptation to conquer the great hound
by force, since gentleness failed to win obedience. He had the wisdom to
chain Don up first; for a blow from any hand but his master's made him
savage, and Ted had more than once tried the experiment, as the dog
remembered. This indignity roused Don and he sat up with a growl. Rob
heard it, and seeing Ted raise the switch, ran to interfere, exclaiming:

'Don't touch him! Dan forbade it! Leave the poor thing in peace; I won't
allow it.'

Rob seldom commanded, but when he did Master Ted had to give in. His
temper was up, and Rob's masterful tone made it impossible to resist one
cut at the rebellious dog before he submitted. Only a single blow, but
it was a costly one; for as it fell, the dog sprang at Ted with a snarl,
and Rob, rushing between the two, felt the sharp teeth pierce his leg.
A word made Don let go and drop remorsefully at Rob's feet, for he loved
him and was evidently sorry to have hurt his friend by mistake. With a
forgiving pat Rob left him, to limp to the barn followed by Ted, whose
wrath was changed to shame and sorrow when he saw the red drops on Rob's
sock and the little wounds in his leg.

'I'm awfully sorry. Why did you get in the way? Here, wash it up, and
I'll get a rag to tie on it,' he said quickly filling a sponge with
water and pulling out a very demoralized handkerchief. Rob usually made
light of his own mishaps and was over ready to forgive if others were to
blame; but now he sat quite still, looking at the purple marks with such
a strange expression on his white face that Ted was troubled, though he
added with a laugh: 'Why, you're not afraid of a little dig like that,
are you, Bobby?'

'I am afraid of hydrophobia. But if Don is mad I'd rather be the one to
have it,' answered Rob, with a smile and a shiver.

At that dreadful word Ted turned whiter than his brother, and,
dropping sponge and handkerchief, stared at him with a frightened face,
whispering in a tone of despair:

'Oh, Rob, don't say it! What shall we do, what shall we do?'

'Call Nan; she will know. Don't scare Aunty, or tell a soul but Nan;
she's on the back piazza; get her out here as quick as you can. I'll
wash it till she comes. Maybe it's nothing; don't look so staggered,
Ted. I only thought it might be, as Don is queer.'

Rob tried to speak bravely; but Ted's long legs felt strangely weak as
he hurried away, and it was lucky he met no one, for his face would have
betrayed him. Nan was swinging luxuriously in a hammock, amusing herself
with a lively treatise on croup, when an agitated boy suddenly clutched
her, whispering, as he nearly pulled her overboard:

'Come to Rob in the barn! Don's mad and he's bitten him, and we don't
know what to do; it's all my fault; no one must know. Oh, do be quick!'

Nan was on her feet at once, startled, but with her wits about her, and
both were off without more words as they dodged round the house where
unconscious Daisy chatted with her friends in the parlour and Aunt Meg
peacefully took her afternoon nap upstairs.

Rob was braced up, and was as calm and steady as ever when they found
him in the harness-room, whither he had wisely retired, to escape
observation. The story was soon told, and after a look at Don, now in
his kennel, sad and surly, Nan said slowly, with her eye on the full
water-pan:

'Rob, there is one thing to do for the sake of safety, and it must
be done at once. We can't wait to see if Don is--sick--or to go for a
doctor. I can do it, and I will; but it is very painful, and I hate to
hurt you, dear.'

A most unprofessional quiver got into Nan's voice as she spoke, and her
keen eyes dimmed as she looked at the two anxious young faces turned so
confidingly to her for help.

'I know, burn it; well, do it, please; I can bear it. But Ted better
go away,' said Rob, with a firm setting of his lips, and a nod at his
afflicted brother.

'I won't stir; I can stand it if he can, only it ought to be me!' cried
Ted, with a desperate effort not to cry, so full of grief and fear and
shame was he that it seemed as if he couldn't bear it like a man.

'He'd better stay and help; do him good,' answered Nan sternly, because,
her heart was faint within her, knowing as she did all that might be in
store for both poor boys. 'Keep quiet; I'll be back in a minute,' she
added, going towards the house, while her quick mind hastily planned
what was best to be done.

It was ironing day, and a hot fire still burned in the empty kitchen,
for the maids were upstairs resting. Nan put a slender poker to heat,
and as she sat waiting for it, covered her face with her hands, asking
help in this sudden need for strength, courage, and wisdom; for there
was no one else to call upon, and young as she was, she knew what was to
be done if she only had the nerve to do it. Any other patient would have
been calmly interes

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