AP TER

C H 1

Playing Pilgrims

“Christmas1 won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

“It’s so dreadful to be poor!” sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.

“I don’t think it’s fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing
at all,” added little Amy, with an injured sniff.

“We’ve got Father and Mother, and each other,” said Beth contentedly from her corner.

The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but
darkened again as Jo said sadly, “We haven’t got Father, and shall not have him for a long time.”
She didn’t say “perhaps never,” but each silently added it, thinking of Father far away, where
the fighting was.

Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, “You know the reason Mother
proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for
everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men are suffering
so in the army. We can’t do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly.
But I am afraid I don’t,” and Meg shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty
things she wanted.

1 Christmas is an annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ, observed primarily on December 25 as a reli-
gious and cultural celebration among billions of people around the world.
 “But I don’t think the little we should spend would do any good. We’ve each got a dollar, Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.
and the army wouldn’t be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from
“Don’t, Jo. It’s so boyish!”
Mother or you, but I do want to buy Undine and Sintram1 for myself. I’ve wanted it so long,”
said Jo, who was a bookworm. “That’s why I do it.”
“I planned to spend mine in new music,” said Beth, with a little sigh, which no one heard “I detest rude, unladylike girls!”
but the hearth brush and kettle-holder.
“I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!”
“I shall get a nice box of Faber’s2 drawing pencils; I really need them,” said Amy decidedly.
“Birds in their little nests agree,” sang Beth, the peacemaker, with such a funny face that
“Mother didn’t say anything about our money, and she won’t wish us to give up everything. both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and the “pecking” ended for that time.
Let’s each buy what we want, and have a little fun; I’m sure we work hard enough to earn it,”
“Really, girls, you are both to be blamed,” said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-
cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.
sisterly fashion. “You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine.
“I know I do—teaching those tiresome children nearly all day, when I’m longing to enjoy It didn’t matter so much when you were a little girl, but now you are so tall, and turn up your
myself at home,” began Meg, in the complaining tone again. hair, you should remember that you are a young lady.”

“You don’t have half such a hard time as I do,” said Jo. “How would you like to be shut up “I’m not! And if turning up my hair makes me one, I’ll wear it in two tails till I’m twenty,”
for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking down a chestnut mane. “I hate to think I’ve got to
you till you’re ready to fly out the window or cry?” grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China Aster! It’s bad
enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boy’s games and work and manners! I can’t get over my
“It’s naughty to fret, but I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work
disappointment in not being a boy. And it’s worse than ever now, for I’m dying to go and fight
in the world. It makes me cross, and my hands get so stiff, I can’t practice well at all.” And Beth
with Papa. And I can only stay home and knit, like a poky old woman!”
looked at her rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.
And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded
“I don’t believe any of you suffer as I do,” cried Amy, “for you don’t have to go to school
across the room.
with impertinent girls, who plague you if you don’t know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses,
and label your father if he isn’t rich, and insult you when your nose isn’t nice.” “Poor Jo! It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped. So you must try to be contented with making
your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls,” said Beth, stroking the rough head with a
“If you mean libel, I’d say so, and not talk about labels, as if Papa was a pickle bottle,”
hand that all the dish washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch.
advised Jo, laughing.
“As for you, Amy,” continued Meg, “you are altogether too particular and prim. Your airs
“I know what I mean, and you needn’t be statirical about it. It’s proper to use good words,
are funny now, but you’ll grow up an affected little goose, if you don’t take care. I like your nice
and improve your vocabilary,” returned Amy, with dignity.
manners and refined ways of speaking, when you don’t try to be elegant. But your absurd words
“Don’t peck at one another, children. Don’t you wish we had the money Papa lost when we are as bad as Jo’s slang.”“If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?” asked Beth,
were little, Jo? Dear me! How happy and good we’d be, if we had no worries!” said Meg, who ready to share the lecture.
could remember better times.
“You’re a dear, and nothing else,” answered Meg warmly, and no one contradicted her, for
“You said the other day you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they the ‘Mouse’ was the pet of the family.
were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money.”
As young readers like to know ‘how people look’, we will take this moment to give them a
“So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are. For though we do have to work, we make fun of little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow
ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say.” fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable room, though
the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain, for a good picture or two hung on the walls,
“Jo does use such slang words!” observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure
books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a
stretched on the rug.
pleasant atmosphere of home peace pervaded it.

1 Undine is a fairytale novella (Erzählung) by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué in which Undine, a water spirit, marries a
Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with
knight named Huldebrand in order to gain a soul. large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather
2 Faber-Castell AG is one of the world’s largest and oldest manufacturers of pens, pencils, other office supplies (e.g., staplers,
slide rules, erasers, rulers)[1] and art supplies,[2] as well as high-end writing instruments and luxury leather goods.
vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she
never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She “I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the chair with the crown on, and see
had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, you all come marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses,
and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles,” said Beth, who
was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and was toasting her face and the bread for tea at the same time.
feet, a flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly
“Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise her. We must
shooting up into a woman and didn’t like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was
go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg. There is so much to do about the play for Christmas
a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a
night,” said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back, and her nose in the air.
peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her ‘Little Miss Tranquility’,
and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only “I don’t mean to act any more after this time. I’m getting too old for such things,” observed
venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a Meg, who was as much a child as ever about ‘dressing-up’ frolics.
most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and
“You won’t stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair
yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young
down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are the best actress we’ve got, and there’ll be an end
lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be
of everything if you quit the boards,” said Jo. “We ought to rehearse tonight. Come here, Amy,
found out.
and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that.”

“I can’t help it. I never saw anyone faint, and I don’t choose to make myself all black and
The clock struck six and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to
blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I’ll drop. If I can’t, I shall fall into a chair
warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls, for Mother was
and be graceful. I don’t care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol,” returned Amy, who was
coming, and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp,
not gifted with dramatic power, but was chosen because she was small enough to be borne out
Amy got out of the easy chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up
shrieking by the villain of the piece.
to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.
“Do it this way. Clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room, crying frantically,
“They are quite worn out. Marmee must have a new pair.”
‘Roderigo! Save me! Save me!’” and away went Jo, with a melodramatic scream which was truly
“I thought I’d get her some with my dollar,” said Beth. “No, I shall!” cried Amy. thrilling.
“I’m the oldest,” began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided, “I’m the man of the family now Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as
Papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of Mother while if she went by machinery, and her “Ow!” was more suggestive of pins being run into her than
he was gone.” of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her
bread burn as she watched the fun with interest. “It’s no use! Do the best you can when the time
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Beth, “let’s each get her something for Christmas, and not
comes, and if the audience laughs, don’t blame me. Come on, Meg.”
get anything for ourselves.”
Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without
“That’s like you, dear! What will we get?” exclaimed Jo.
a single break. Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering
Everyone thought soberly for a minute, then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested toads, with weird effect. Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies
by the sight of her own pretty hands, “I shall give her a nice pair of gloves.” of remorse and arsenic, with a wild, “Ha! Ha!”
“Army shoes, best to be had,” cried Jo. “It’s the best we’ve had yet,” said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows.
“Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed,” said Beth. “I don’t see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You’re a regular Shakespeare!”
exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all
“I’ll get a little bottle of cologne. She likes it, and it won’t cost much, so I’ll have some left
things.
to buy my pencils,” added Amy.
“Not quite,” replied Jo modestly. “I do think The Witches Curse, an Operatic Tragedy is
“How will we give the things?” asked Meg.
rather a nice thing, but I’d like to try Macbeth, if we only had a trapdoor for Banquo. I always
“Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don’t you remember wanted to do the killing part. ‘Is that a dagger that I see before me?” muttered Jo, rolling her
how we used to do on our birthdays?” answered Jo. eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do.
 “No, it’s the toasting fork, with Mother’s shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth’s stage- They all drew to the fire, Mother in the big chair with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy
struck!” cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter. perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any
sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those
“Glad to find you so merry, my girls,” said a cheery voice at the door, and actors and
hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little
audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady with a ‘can I help you’ look about her which
was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the homesickness conquered. It was a
was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and the girls
cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news, and
thought the gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the
only at the end did the writer’s heart over-flow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls
world.
at home.
“Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, getting the boxes
“Give them all of my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them
ready to go tomorrow, that I didn’t come home to dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your
by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait
cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby.”
before I see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard
While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving
on, and sitting down in the easy chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer
hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own themselves so beautifully that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than
way. Meg arranged the tea table, Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, over- turning, and ever of my little women.” Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo wasn’t ashamed
clattering everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor kitchen, quiet and of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of
busy, while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded. her curls as she hid her face on her mother’s shoulder and sobbed out, “I am a selfish girl! But
I’ll truly try to be better, so he mayn’t be disappointed in me by-and-by.”
As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly happy face, “I’ve got
a treat for you after supper.” “We all will,” cried Meg. “I think too much of my looks and hate to work, but won’t any
more, if I can help it.”
A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her hands, regardless
of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, “A letter! A letter! Three cheers for “I’ll try and be what he loves to call me, ‘a little woman’ and not be rough and wild, but
Father!” do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else,” said Jo, thinking that keeping her
temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.
“Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better
than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock and began to knit with
girls,” said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there. all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that lay nearest her, while she resolved in her
quiet little soul to be all that Father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy
“Hurry and get done! Don’t stop to quirk your little finger and simper over your plate,
coming home.
Amy,” cried Jo, choking on her tea and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in
her haste to get at the treat. Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo’s words, by saying in her cheery voice, “Do
you remember how you used to play Pilgrims Progress when you were little things? Nothing
Beth ate no more, but crept away to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to
delighted you more than to have me tie my piece bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats
come, till the others were ready.
and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was
“I think it was so splendid in Father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you could
not strong enough for a soldier,” said Meg warmly. collect to make a Celestial City.”
“Don’t I wish I could go as a drummer, a vivan—what’s its name? Or a nurse, so I could be “What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing through the
near him and help him,” exclaimed Jo, with a groan. valley where the hob-goblins were,” said Jo.
“It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of bad- tasting things, and “I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs,” said Meg.
drink out of a tin mug,” sighed Amy.
“I don’t remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry,
“When will he come home, Marmee?” asked Beth, with a little quiver in her voice. and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn’t too old for such things, I’d
rather like to play it over again,” said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things at
“Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his work faithfully as long
the mature age of twelve.
as he can, and we won’t ask for him back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come
and hear the letter.”
 “We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one
way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and
happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is a
true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, PTER II
and see how far on you can get before Father comes home.” CHA
“Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?” asked Amy, who was a very literal young lady.

“Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth. I rather think she hasn’t got
any,” said her mother.

“Yes, I have. Mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid
of people.”

Beth’s bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh, but nobody did, for it
would have hurt her feelings very much.

“Let us do it,” said Meg thoughtfully. “It is only another name for trying to be good, and
the story may help us, for though we do want to be good, it’s hard work and we forget, and don’t
do our best.”

“We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled us out as Help
did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions, like Christian. What shall we do about
that?” asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of a me rry christmas
doing her duty.

“Look under your pillows Christmas morning, and you will find your guidebook,” replied
Mrs. March.
Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the
They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table, then out came the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much
four little work baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was
disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was crammed so
uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo’s plan of dividing the long
full of goodies. Then she remembered her mother’s promise and, slipping her hand under her
seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that
pillow, drew out a little crimson- covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old
way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries as they stitched
story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going on
their way through them.
a long journey. She woke Meg with a “Merry Christmas,” and bade her see what was under her
At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed. No one but Beth pillow. A green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few words written
could get much music out of the old piano, but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and
and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had a voice like a Amy woke to rummage and find their little books also, one dove-colored, the other blue, and all
flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered sat looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the coming day.
through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a
In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously
quaver that spoiled the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could
influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her
lisp...
advice was so gently given.
Crinkle, crinkle, ‘ittle ‘tar,
“Girls,” said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to the two little night-
and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound capped ones in the room beyond, “Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and
in the morning was her voice as she went about the house singing like a lark, and the last sound we must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it, but since Father went away and all this
at night was the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby. war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you please, but I shall
keep my book on the table here and read a little every morning as soon as I wake, for I know it “Don’t laugh at me, Jo! I didn’t mean anyone should know till the time came. I only meant
will do me good and help me through the day.” to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and I’m truly trying
not to be selfish any more.”
Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her and, leaning
cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face. As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one, and looked so
earnest and humble in her little effort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jo
“How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let’s do as they do. I’ll help you with the hard words, and
pronounced her ‘a trump’, while Beth ran to the window, and picked her finest rose to ornament
they’ll explain things if we don’t understand,” whispered Beth, very much impressed by the
the stately bottle.
pretty books and her sisters’ example.
“You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this
“I’m glad mine is blue,” said Amy. and then the rooms were very still while the pages were
morning, so I ran round the corner and changed it the minute I was up, and I’m so glad, for
softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with
mine is the handsomest now.”
a Christmas greeting.
Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls to the table,
“Where is Mother?” asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an
eager for breakfast.
hour later.
“Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books. We read some, and
“Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came a-beggin’, and your ma went straight
mean to every day,” they all cried in chorus.
off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for givin’ away vittles and drink,
clothes and firin’,” replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was “Merry Christmas, little daughters! I’m glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on.
considered by them all more as a friend than a servant. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with
a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have
“She will be back soon, I think, so fry your cakes, and have everything ready,” said Meg,
no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering
looking over the presents which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be
hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?”
produced at the proper time. “Why, where is Amy’s bottle of cologne?” she added, as the little
flask did not appear. They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one
spoke, only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, “I’m so glad you came before we began!”
“She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put a ribbon on it, or some such
notion,” replied Jo, dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers. “May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?” asked Beth eagerly.
“How nice my handkerchiefs look, don’t they? Hannah washed and ironed them for me, “I shall take the cream and the muffings,” added Amy, heroically giving up the article she
and I marked them all myself,” said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which most liked.
had cost her such labor.
Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate.
“Bless the child! She’s gone and put ‘Mother’ on them instead of ‘M. March’. How funny!”
“I thought you’d do it,” said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. “You shall all go and help
cried Jo, taking one up.
me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at
“Isn’t that right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg’s initials are M.M., and I dinnertime.”
don’t want anyone to use these but Marmee,” said Beth, looking troubled.
They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went
“It’s all right, dear, and a very pretty idea, quite sensible too, for no one can ever mistake through back streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party.
now. It will please her very much, I know,” said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.
A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick
“There’s Mother. Hide the basket, quick!” cried Jo, as a door slammed and steps sounded mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying
in the hall. to keep warm.
Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her. How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in.
“Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?” asked Meg, surprised to see, “Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!” said the poor woman, crying for joy.
by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early.
“Funny angels in hoods and mittens,” said Jo, and set them to laughing.
 In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece, and they certainly
had carried wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own deserved some credit for the hard work they did in learning three or four
cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help,
different parts, whisking in and out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides. It
while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls meantime spread
was excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, and employed many hours which
the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, laughing,
otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or spent in less profitable society.
talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English.
On Christmas night, a dozen girls piled onto the bed which was the dress circle, and sat
“Das ist gut!” “Die Engel-kinder!” cried the poor things as they ate and warmed their
before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was
purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before,
a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp smoke, and an
and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a ‘Sancho’ ever since she
occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment.
was born. That was a very happy breakfast, though they didn’t get any of it. And when they
Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the operatic tragedy began.
went away, leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier people than
the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and “A gloomy wood,” according to the one playbill, was represented by a few shrubs in pots,
milk on Christmas morning. green baize on the floor, and a cave in the distance. This cave was made with a clothes horse
for a roof, bureaus for walls, and in it was a small furnace in full blast, with a black pot on it and
“That’s loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it,” said Meg, as they set out
an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect,
their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.
especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was
Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles, allowed for the first thrill to subside, then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at
and the tall vase of red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the his side, a slouching hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in
middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table. much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain, singing of his hatred for
Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The
“She’s coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for Marmee!” cried Jo,
gruff tones of Hugo’s voice, with an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, were very
prancing about while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat of honor.
impressive, and the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with the air
Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and Meg enacted escort with of one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth with
great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched, and smiled with her eyes full as she a commanding, “What ho, minion! I need thee!”
examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on
Out came Meg, with gray horsehair hanging about her face, a red and black robe, a staff,
at once, a new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy’s cologne, the
and cabalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him, and one
rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a perfect fit.
to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up
There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the simple, loving fashion the spirit who would bring the love philter.
which makes these home festivals so pleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterward,
Hither, hither, from thy home,
and then all fell to work.
Airy sprite, I bid thee come!
The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of the day was Born of roses, fed on dew,
devoted to preparations for the evening festivities. Being still too young to go often to the theater, Charms and potions canst thou brew?
and not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their wits Bring me here, with elfin speed,
to work, and necessity being the mother of invention, made whatever they needed. Very clever The fragrant philter which I need.
were some of their productions, pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter Make it sweet and swift and strong,
boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton, glittering with tin spangles from a Spirit, answer now my song!
pickle factory, and armor covered with the same useful diamond shaped bits left in sheets when
the lids of preserve pots were cut out. The big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels. A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave appeared a little figure in
cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Waving a
No gentleman were admitted, so Jo played male parts to her heart’s content and took
wand, it sang...
immense satisfaction in a pair of russet leather boots given her by a friend, who knew a lady who
knew an actor. These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some Hither I come,
picture, were Jo’s chief treasures and appeared on all occasions. The smallness of the company From my airy home,
 Afar in the silver moon. This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought that the sudden
Take the magic spell, tumbling down of a quantity of long red hair rather marred the effect of the villain’s death. He
And use it well, was called before the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing
Or its power will vanish soon! was considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put together.

Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing himself because he
And dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch’s feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant
has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, a lovely song is sung
from Hagar produced another apparition, not a lovely one, for with a bang an ugly black imp
under his window, informing him that Zara is true but in danger, and he can save her if he will.
appeared and, having croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo and disappeared with a
A key is thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in a spasm of rapture he tears off his chains and
mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his boots, Hugo departed,
rushes away to find and rescue his lady love.
and Hagar informed the audience that as he had killed a few of her friends in times past,
Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into
she had cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain
a convent, but she won’t hear of it, and after a touching appeal, is about to faint when Roderigo
fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play.
dashes in and demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and
A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again, but when it became evident gesticulate tremendously but cannot agree, and Rodrigo is about to bear away the exhausted
what a masterpiece of stage carpentery had been got up, no one murmured at the delay. It was Zara, when the timid servant enters with a letter and a bag from Hagar, who
truly superb. A tower rose to the ceiling, halfway up appeared a window with a lamp burning
has mysteriously disappeared. The latter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth
in it, and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for
to the young pair and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he doesn’t make them happy. The bag
Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut lovelocks, a guitar,
is opened, and several quarts of tin money shower down upon the stage till it is quite glorified
and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones.
with the glitter. This entirely softens the stern sire. He consents without a murmur, all join in a
Zara replied and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the
joyful chorus, and the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro’s blessing in
play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara
attitudes of the most romantic grace.
to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo’s shoulder, and was
about to leap gracefully down when “Alas! Alas for Zara!” she forgot her train. It caught in the Tumultuous applause followed but received an unexpected check, for the cot bed, on
window, the tower tottered, leaned forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in which the dress circle was built, suddenly shut up and extinguished the enthusiastic audience.
the ruins. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though many were
speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided when Hannah appeared, with
A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck and a golden head
“Mrs. March’s compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper.”
emerged, exclaiming, “I told you so! I told you so!” With wonderful presence of mind, Don
Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty aside... This was a surprise even to the actors, and when they saw the table, they looked at one
another in rapturous amazement. It was like Marmee to get up a little treat for them, but
“Don’t laugh! Act as if it was all right!” and, ordering Roderigo up, banished him from
anything so fine as this was unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There was ice cream,
the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall from the tower upon
actually two dishes of it, pink and white, and cake and fruit and distracting French bonbons
him, Roderigo defied the old gentleman and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara.
and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot house flowers.
She also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. A
stout little retainer came in with chains and led them away, looking very much frightened and It quite took their breath away, and they stared first at the table and then at their mother,
evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have made. who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely.
Act third was the castle hall, and here Hagar appeared, having come to free the lovers and “Is it fairies?” asked Amy.
finish Hugo. She hears him coming and hides, sees him put the potions into two cups of wine
“Santa Claus,” said Beth.
and bid the timid little servant, “Bear them to the captives in their cells, and tell them I shall
come anon.” The servant takes Hugo aside to tell him something, and Hagar changes the cups “Mother did it.” And Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray beard and white eyebrows.
for two others which are harmless. Ferdinando, the ‘minion’, carries them away, and Hagar
“Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper,” cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration.
puts back the cup which holds the poison meant for Roderigo. Hugo, getting thirsty after a long
warble, drinks it, loses his wits, and after a good deal of clutching and stamping, falls flat and “All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it,” replied Mrs. March.
dies, while Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisite power and melody.
“The Laurence boy’s grandfather! What in the world put such a thing into his head? We
don’t know him!” exclaimed Meg.
 “Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party. He is an odd old gentleman,
but that pleased him. He knew my father years ago, and he sent me a polite note this afternoon,
saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending
them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse, and so you have a little feast at night to
make up for the bread-and-milk breakfast.”

“That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He’s a capital fellow, and I wish we could get
acquainted. He looks as if he’d like to know us but he’s bashful, and Meg is so prim she won’t
let me speak to him when we pass,” said Jo, as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt
out of sight, with ohs and ahs of satisfaction.

“You mean the people who live in the big house next door, don’t you?” asked one of the
girls. “My mother knows old Mr. Laurence, but says he’s very proud and doesn’t like to mix with
his neighbors. He keeps his grandson shut up, when he isn’t riding or walking with his tutor, and
makes him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he didn’t come. Mother says he’s
very nice, though he never speaks to us girls.”
“Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence, and were
getting on capitally, all about cricket, and so on, when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. I
mean to know him some day, for he needs fun, I’m sure he does,” said Jo decidedly.

“I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman, so I’ve no objection to your knowing
him, if a proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself, and I should have asked
him in, if I had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away,
hearing the frolic and evidently having none of his own.”

“It’s a mercy you didn’t, Mother!” laughed Jo, looking at her boots. “But we’ll have another
play sometime that he can see. Perhaps he’ll help act. Wouldn’t that be jolly?”

“I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!” And Meg examined her flowers
with great interest.

“They are lovely. But Beth’s roses are sweeter to me,” said Mrs. March, smelling the half-
dead posy in her belt.

Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, “I wish I could send my bunch to Father. I’m
afraid he isn’t having such a merry Christmas as we are.”