Little

Women By

Louisa May Alcott

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CHAPTER ONE

‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,’

grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
‘It’s so dreadful to be poor!’ sighed Meg, looking
down at her old dress.
‘I don’t think it’s fair for some girls to have plenty of
pret ty 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
bright ened 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 silent ly 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.

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‘But I don’t think the little we should spend would
do any good. We’ve each got a dollar, and the army
wouldn’t be much helped by our giving that. I agree
not to expect any thing from Mother or you, but I do
want to buy UNDINE AND SINTRAM for myself. I’ve
wanted it so long,’ said Jo, who was a bookworm.
‘I planned to spend mine in new music,’ said Beth,
with a little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth
brush and kettle holder.
 ‘I shall get a nice box of Faber’s drawing pencils. I
really need them,’ said Amy decidedly.
‘Mother didn’t say anything about our money, and
she won’t wish us to give up everything. Let’s each
buy what we want, and have a little fun. I’m sure we
work hard enough to earn it,’ cried Jo, examining the
heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.
‘I know I do—teaching those tiresome children
nearly all day, when I’m longing to enjoy myself at
home,’ began Meg, in the complaining tone again.
‘You don’t have half such a hard time as I do,’ said
Jo. ‘How would you like to be shut up for hours with a
nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is
never satisfied, and worries you till you you’re ready
to fly out the window or cry?’
‘It’s naughty to fret, but I do think washing dishes
and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world.
It makes me cross, and my hands get so stiff, I can’t
practice well at all.’ And Beth looked at her rough
hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.

4 Little Women
‘I don’t believe any of you suffer as I do,’ cried Amy,
‘for you don’t have to go to school with impertinent
girls, who plague you if you don’t know your lessons,
and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he
isn’t rich, and insult you when your nose isn’t nice.’
‘If you mean libel, I’d say so, and not talk about
labels, as if Papa was a pickle bottle,’ advised Jo,
laughing. ‘I know what I mean, and you needn’t be
statirical about it. It’s proper to use good words, and
improve your vocabi lary,’ returned Amy, with dignity.
‘Don’t peck at one another, children. Don’t you wish
we had the money Papa lost when we were little, Jo?
Dear me! How happy and good we’d be, if we had no
worries!’ said Meg, who could remember better times.
‘You said the other day you thought we were a deal
hap pier than the King children, for they were fighting
and fretting all the time, in spite of their money.’
‘So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are. For though we
do have to work, we make fun of ourselves, and are a
pretty jolly set, as Jo would say.’
‘Jo does use such slang words!’ observed Amy,
with a re proving look at the long figure stretched on
the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her
pockets, and began to whistle.
‘Don’t, Jo. It’s so boyish!’
‘That’s why I do it.’
‘I detest rude, unladylike girls!’
‘I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!’
‘Birds in their little nests agree,’ sang Beth, the

peacemak-Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 5

er, with such a funny face that both sharp voices

softened to a laugh, and the ‘pecking’ ended for that
time. ‘Really, girls, you are both to be blamed,’ said
Meg, be ginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly
fashion.’You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks,
and to behave better, Jose phine. It didn’t matter so
much when you were a little girl, but now you are so
tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that
you are a young lady.’
‘I’m not! And if turning up my hair makes me one,
I’ll wear it in two tails till I’m twenty,’ cried Jo, pulling
off her net, and shaking down a chestnut mane. ‘I
hate to think I’ve got to grow up, and be Miss March,
and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China
Aster! It’s bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like
boy’s games and work and man
ners! I can’t get over my disappointment in not being a
boy. And it’s worse than ever now, for I’m dying to go
and fight with Papa. And I can only stay home and
knit, like a poky old woman!’
And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles
rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across
the room. ‘Poor Jo! It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped.
So you must try to be contented with making your
name boyish, and playing brother to us girls,’ said
Beth, stroking the rough head with a hand that all the
dish washing and dusting in the world could not make
ungentle in its touch. ‘As for you, Amy,’ continued
Meg, ‘you are altogether to particular and prim. Your
airs are funny now, but you’ll grow up an affected little
goose, if you don’t take care. I I like your nice
manners and refined ways of speaking, when

6 Little Women
you don’t try to be elegant. But your absurd words are
as bad as Jo’s slang.’
‘If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I,
please?’ asked Beth, ready to share the lecture.
 ‘You’re a dear, and nothing else,’ answered Meg
warmly, and no one contradicted her, for the ‘Mouse’
was the pet of the family.
As young readers like to know ‘how people look’,
we will take this moment to give them a little sketch of
the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight,
while the December snow fell quietly without, and the
fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable
room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture
very plain, for a good picture or two hung on the
walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and
Christmas roses bloomed in the win dows, and a
pleasant atmosphere of home peace pervaded it.
Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and
very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes,
plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white
hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteenyear-old
Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one
of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do
with her long limbs, which were very much in her way.
She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and
sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything,
and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her
long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually
bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round
shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look
to her clothes, and the uncomfort-

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able appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up
into a woman and didn’t like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as
everyone called her, was a rosy, smoothhaired,
bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid
voice, and a ;peaceful expression which was seldom
disturbed. Her father called her ‘Little Miss
Tranquility’, and the name suited her excel
lently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her
own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she
trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a
most important person, in her own opinion at least. A
regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair
curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and
always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of
her manners. What the characters of the four sisters
were we will leave to be found out.
The clock struck six and, having swept up the
hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm.
Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect
upon the girls, for Mother was coming, and everyone
brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing,
and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy chair
without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was
as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.
‘They are quite worn out. Marmee must have a new
pair.’
‘I thought I’d get her some with my dollar,’ said
Beth. ‘No, I shall!’ cried Amy.
‘I’m the oldest,’ began Meg, but Jo cut in with a
decided, ‘I’m the man of the family now Papa is away,
and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take
special care of
 8 Little Women
Mother while he was gone.’
‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ said Beth, ‘let’s each get
her something for Christmas, land not get anything
for our selves.’
‘That’s like you, dear! What will we get?’ exclaimed
Jo. Everyone thought soberly for a minute, then Meg
an nounced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight
of her own pretty hands, ‘I shall give her a nice pair of
gloves.’ ‘Army shoes, best to be had,’ cried Jo.
‘Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed,’ said Beth. ‘I’ll
get a little bottle of cologne. She likes it, and it won’t
cost much, so I’ll have some left to buy my pencils,’
added Amy.
‘How will we give the things?’ asked Meg.
‘Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her
open the bundles. Don’t you remember how we used
to do on our birthdays?’ answered Jo.
‘I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to
sit in the chair with the crown on, and see you all
come marching round to give the presents, with a
kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was
dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened
the bundles,’ said Beth, who was toasting her face
and the bread for tea at the same time.
‘Let Marmee think we are getting things for
ourselves, and then surprise her. We must go
shopping tomorrow af ternoon, Meg. There is so much
to do about the play for Christmas night,’ said Jo,
marching up and down, with her hands behind her
back, and her nose in the air. ‘I don’t mean to act any
more after this time. I’m getting

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too old for such things,’ observed Meg, who was as
much a child as ever about ‘dressing-up’ frolics.
‘You won’t stop, I know, as long as you can trail
round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear
gold-paper jewelry. You are the best actress we’ve
got, and there’ll be an end of everything if you quit the
boards,’ said Jo. ‘We ought to rehearse tonight. Come
here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as
stiff as a poker in that.’
‘I can’t help it. I never saw anyone faint, and I don’t
choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling
flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I’ll drop. If I
can’t, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful. I don’t
care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol,’ returned
Amy, who was not gifted with dra
matic power, but was chosen because she was small
enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the
piece. ‘Do it this way. Clasp your hands so, and
stagger across the room, crying frantically, ‘Roderigo
Save me! Save me!’ and away went Jo, with a
melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling.
Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly
before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by
machinery, and her ‘Ow!’ was more suggestive of pins
being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a
despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while
Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with
interest. ‘It’s no use! Do the best you can when the
time comes, and if the audience laughs, don’t blame
me. Come on, Meg.’
‘Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied
the world in a speech of two pages without a single
break.

10 Little Women
Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over
her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect.
Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo
died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild,
‘Ha! Ha!’
‘It’s the best we’ve had yet,’ said Meg, as the dead
villain sat up and rubbed his elbows.
‘I don’t see how you can write and act such
splendid things, Jo. You’re a regular Shakespeare!’
exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters
were gifted with won derful genius in all things.
‘Not quite,’ replied Jo modestly. ‘I do think THE
WITCH ES CURSE, an Operatic Tragedy is rather a
nice thing, but I’d like to try McBETH, if we only had a
trapdoor for Ban quo. I always wanted to do the killing
part. ‘Is that a dagger that I see before me?’ muttered
Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she
had seen a famous tragedian do.
‘No, it’s the toasting fork, with Mother’s shoe on it in
stead of the bread. Beth’s stage-struck!’ cried Meg,
and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of
laughter.
‘Glad to find you so merry, my girls,’ said a cheery
voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to
welcome a tall, motherly lady with a ‘can I help you’
look about her which was truly delightful. She was not
elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and
the girls thought the gray cloak and unfashionable
bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the
world.
‘Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There
was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go
tomorrow, that I didn’t come home to dinner. Has
anyone called, Beth? How

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is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come
and kiss me, baby.’
While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March
got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and
sitting down in the easy chair, drew Amy to her lap,
preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day.
The girls flew about, try
ing to make things comfortable, each in her own way.
Meg arranged the tea table, Jo brought wood and set
chairs, drop ping, over-turning, and clattering
everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro
between parlor kitchen, quiet and busy, while Amy
gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her
hands folded.
As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said,
with a particularly happy face, ‘I’ve got a treat for you
after sup per.’
A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sun
shine. Beth clapped her hands, regardless of the
biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying,
‘A letter! A letter! Three cheers for Father!’
‘Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he
shall get through the cold season better than we
feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for
Christmas, and an especial mes sage to you girls,’
said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got
a treasure there.
‘Hurry and get done! Don’t stop to quirk your little
finger and simper over your plate, Amy,’ cried Jo,
choking on her tea and dropping her bread, butter
side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the
treat.
Beth ate no more, but crept away to sit in her

shadowy 12 Little Women

corner and brood over the delight to come, till the

others were ready.
‘I think it was so splendid in Father to go as
chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and not
strong enough for a soldier,’ said Meg warmly.
‘Don’t I wish I could go as a drummer, a
vivan—what’s its name? Or a nurse, so I could be
near him and help him,’ exclaimed Jo, with a groan.
‘It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and
eat all sorts of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a
tin mug,’ sighed Amy.
‘When will he come home, Marmee? asked Beth,
with a little quiver in her voice.
‘Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He
will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can,
and we won’t ask for him back a minute sooner than
he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter.’
They all drew to the fire, Mother in the big chair with
Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm
of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no
one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should
happen to be touching. Very few letters were written
in those hard times that were not touching, especially
those which fathers sent home. In this one little was
said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or
the homesickness conquered. It was a cheerful,
hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life,
marches, and military news, and only at the end did
the writer’s heart over-flow with fatherly love and
longing for the little girls at home.

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‘Give them all of my dear love and a kiss. Tell them
I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find
my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year
seems very long to wait before I see them, but remind
them that while we wait we may all work, so that
these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will
remember all I said to them, that they will be loving
children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their
bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so
beautifully that when I come back to them I may be
fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.’
Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo
wasn’t ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the
end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling
of her curls as she hid her face on her mother’s
shoulder and sobbed out, ‘I am a selfish girl! But I’ll
truly try to be better, so he mayn’t be disappointed in
me by-and-by.’
We all will,’ cried Meg. ‘I think too much of my looks
and hate to work, but won’t any more, if I can help it.’
‘I’ll try and be what he loves to call me, ‘a little woman’
and not be rough and wild, but do my duty here
instead of wanting to be somewhere else,’ said Jo,
thinking that keep ing her temper at home was a much
harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.
Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with
the blue army sock and began to knit with all her
might, los ing no time in doing the duty that lay
nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul
to be all that Father hoped to find her when the year
brought round the happy coming home.

14 Little Women
Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo’s
words, by saying in her cheery voice, ‘Do you
remember how you used to play Pilgrims Progress
when you were little things? Nothing delighted you
more than to have me tie my piece bags on your
backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls
of paper, and let you travel through the house from
the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to
the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you
could col lect to make a Celestial City.’
‘What fun it was, especially going by the lions,
fighting Apollyon, and passing through the valley
where the hob goblins were,’ said Jo.
‘I liked the place where the bundles fell off and
tumbled downstairs,’ said Meg.
‘I don’t remember much about it, except that I was
afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always
liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I
wasn’t too old for such things, I’d rather like to play it
over again,’ said Amy, who began to talk of
renouncing childish things at the mature age of
twelve.
‘We never are too old for this, my dear, because it
is a play we are playing all the time in one way or
another. Out burdens are here, our road is before us,
and the longing for goodness and happiness is the
guide that leads us through many troubles and
mistakes to the peace which is a true Celestial City.
Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not
in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can
get before Father comes home.’
‘Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?’ asked

Amy, Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 15

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 doing her duty.
‘Look under your pillows christmas morning, and
you will find your guidebook,’ replied Mrs. March.
They talked over the new plan while old Hannah
cleared the table, then out came the four little work
baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made
sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing,
but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo’s plan
of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling
the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and
in that way got on capitally, especially when they talk
ed about the different countries as they stitched their
way through them.
At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual,
before 16 Little Women

they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much

music out of the old piano, but she had a way of softly
touching the yellow keys and making a pleasant
accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg
had a voice like a flute, and she and herr mother led
the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo
wandered through the airs at her own sweet will,
always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or
a quaver that spoiled the most pensive tune. They
had always done this from the time they could lisp...
Crinkle, crinkle, ‘ittle ‘tar,
and it had become a household custom, for the
mother was a born singer. The first sound in the
morning was her voice as she went about the house
singing like a lark, and the last sound at night was the
same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old
for that familiar lullaby.
 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 17

CHAPTER TWO

Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas

morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a
mo ment she felt as much disappointed as she did
long ago, when her little sock fell down because it
was crammed so full of goodies. Then she
remembered her mother’s prom ise and, slipping her
hand under her pillow, drew out a little
crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it
was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived,
and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim
going on a long journey. She woke Meg with a ‘Merry
Christmas,’ and bade her see what was under her
pillow. A greencov ered book appeared, with the same
picture inside, and a few words written by their
mother, which made their one present very precious
in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke to
rummage and find their little books also, one dove
colored, the other blue, and all sat looking at and
talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the
coming day.
In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet
and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her
sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly,
and obeyed her because her advice was so gently
given.
‘Girls,’ said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled
head beside her to the two little night-capped ones in
the room beyond, ‘Mother wants us to read and love
and mind these

18 Little Women
books, and we must begin at once. We used to be
faithful about it, but since Father went away and all
this war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected
many things. You can do as you please, but I shall
keep my book on the table here and read a little every
morning as soon as I wake, for I know it will do me
good and help me through the day.’
Then she opened her new book and began to read.
Jo put her arm round her and, leaning cheek to
cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom
seen on her rest less face.
‘How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let’s do as they do.
I’ll help you with the hard words, and they’’ explain
things if we don’t understand,’ whispered Beth, very
much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters,
example.
‘I’m glad mine is blue,’ said Amy. and then the
rooms were very still while the pages were softly
turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the
bright heads and seri ous faces with a Christmas
greeting.
‘Where is Mother?’ asked Meg, as she and Jo ran
down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later.
‘Goodness only knows. some poor creeter came
a-beg gin’, and your ma went straight off to see what
was needed. There never was such a woman for
givin’ away vittles and drink, clothes and firin’,’ replied
Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was
born, and was considered by them all more as a
friend than a servant.
‘She will be back soon, I think, so fry your cakes, and
have everything ready,’ said Meg, looking over the
pres ents which were collected in a basket and kept
under the

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sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. ‘why,
where is Amy’s bottle of cologne?’ she added, as the
little flask did not appear.
‘She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to
put a ribbon on it, or some such notion,’ replied Jo,
dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off
the new army slip pers.
‘How nice my handkerchiefs look, don’t they?
Hannah washed and ironed them for me, and I
marked them all my self,’ said Beth, looking proudly at
the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such
labor.
‘Bless the child! She’s gone and put ‘Mother’ on
them in stead of ‘M. March’. How funny!’ cried Jo,
taking one up. ‘Isn’t that right? I thought it was better
to do it so, be cause Meg’s initials are M.M., and I
don’t want anyone to use these but Marmee,’ said
Beth;, looking troubled. ‘It’s all right, dear, and a very
pretty idea, quite sensible too, for no one can ever
mistake now. It will please her very much, I know,’
said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.
‘There’s Mother. Hide the basket, quick!’ cried Jo,
as a door slammed and steps sounded in the hall.
Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed
when she saw her sisters all waiting for her.
‘Where have you been, and what are you hiding
behind you?’ asked Meg, surprised to see, by her
hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early.
‘Don’t laugh at me, Jo! I didn’t mean anyone should
know till the time came. I only meant to change the
little bottle

20 Little Women
for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and
I’m truly trying not to be selfish any more.’
 As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask
which replaced the cheap one, and looked so earnest
and humble in her little effort to forget herself that
Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jo pronounced her
‘a trump’, while Beth ran to the window, and picked
her finest rose to ornament the stately bottle.
‘You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading
and talking about being good this morning, so I ran
round the corner and changed it the minute I was up,
and I’m so glad, for mine is the handsomest now.’
Another bang of the street door sent the basket
under the sofa, and the girls to the table, eager for
breakfast. ‘Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them!
Thank you for our books. We read some, and mean
to every day,’ they all cried in chorus. ‘Merry
Christmas, little daughters! I’m glad you began at
once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say
one word before we sit down. Not far away from here
lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six chil
dren are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing,
for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over
there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were
suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them
your breakfast as a Christmas present?’
They were all unusually hungry, having waited
nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke, only a
minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, ‘I’m so glad you
came before we be gan!’

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 21

‘May I go and help carry the things to the poor little
chil dren?’ asked Beth eagerly.
‘I shall take the cream and the muffings,’ added
Amy, he roically giving up the article she most liked.
Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and
piling the bread into one big plate.
‘I thought you’d do it,’ said Mrs. March, smiling as if
sat isfied. ‘You shall all go and help me, and when we
come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast,
and make it up at dinnertime.’
They were soon ready, and the procession set out.
For tunately it was early, and they went through back
streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed
at the queer party.
A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken
win dows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother,
wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children
cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm.
How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as
the girls went in.
‘Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!’ said
the poor woman, crying for joy.
‘Funny angels in hoods and mittens,’ said Jo, and
set them to laughing.
In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits
had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried
wood, made a fire, and stopped up the broken panes
with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the
mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with
promises of help, while she dressed

22 Little Women
the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own.
The girls meantime spread the table, set the children
round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry
birds, laughing, talking, and trying to understand the
funny broken English.
‘Das ist gut!’ ‘Die Engel-kinder!’ cried the poor
things as they ate and warmed their purple hands at
the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been
called angel children before, and thought it very
agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered a
‘Sancho’ ever since she was born. That was a very
happy breakfast, though they didn’t get any of it. And
when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think
there were not in all the city four merrier people than
the hun gry little girls who gave away their breakfasts
and contented themselves with bread and milk on
Christmas morning.
‘That’s loving our neighbor better than ourselves,
and I like it,’ said Meg, as they set out their presents
while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for
the poor Hum mels.
Not a very splendid show, but there was a great
deal of love done up in the few little bundles, and the
tall vase of red roses, white chrysanthemums, and
trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave quite
an elegant air to the table.
‘She’s coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door,
Amy! Three cheers for Marmee!’ cried Jo, prancing
about while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat
of honor.
 Beth played her gayest march, amy threw open the
door, and Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs.
March was both surprised and touched, and smiled
with her eyes full as she examined her presents and
read the little notes which

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 23

accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a
new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well
scented with Amy’s cologne, the rose was fastened in
her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a
perfect fit.
There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and
ex plaining, in the simple, loving fashion which makes
these home festivals so pleasant at the time, so
sweet to remember long afterward, and then all fell to
work.
The morning charities and ceremonies took so
much time that the rest of the day was devoted to
preparations for the evening festivities. Being still too
young to go often to the theater, and not rich enough
to afford any great outlay for private performances,
the girls put their wits to work, and necessity being
the mother of invention, made whatev
er they needed. Very clever were some of their
productions, pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made
of old-fashioned butter boats covered with silver
paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton, glittering with tin
spangles from a pickle factory, and armor covered
with the same useful diamond shaped bits left inn
sheets when the lids of preserve pots were cut out.
The big chamber was the scene of many innocent rev
els.
No gentleman were admitted, so Jo played male
parts to her heart’s content and took immense
satisfaction in a pair of russet leather boots given her
by a friend, who knew a lady who knew an actor.
These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once
used by an artist for some picture, were Jo’s chief
treasures and appeared on all occasions. The small
ness of the company made it necessary for the two

principal 24 Little Women

actors to take several parts apiece, and they certainly

de served some credit for the hard work they did in
learning three or four different parts, whisking in and
out of various costumes, and managing the stage
besides. It was excellent drill for their memories, a
harmless amusement, and em ployed many hours
which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or
spent in less profitable society.
On christmas night, a dozen girls piled onto the bed
which was the dress circle, and sat before the blue
and yel low chintz curtains in a most flattering state of
expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and
whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp smoke,
and an occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to
get hysterical in the excitement of the moment.
Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and
the OPERATIC TRAGEDY began.
 ‘A gloomy wood,’ according to the one playbill, was
rep resented by a few shrubs in pots, green baize on
the floor, and a cave in the distance. This cave was
made with a clothes horse for a roof, bureaus for
walls, and in it was a small fur nace in full blast, with a
black pot on it and an old witch bending over it. The
stage was dark and the glow of the fur nace had a fine
effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle
when the witch took off the cover. A moment was
allowed for the first thrill to subside, then Hugo, the
villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at his side, a
slouching hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the
boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he
struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain,
singing of his hatred to Roderigo, his love for Zara,
and his pleasing resolution to kill the one

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 25

and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo’s voice,
with an occasional shout when his feelings overcame
him, were very impressive, and the audience
applauded the moment he paused for breath. bowing
with the air of one accustomed to public praise, he
stole to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth
with a commanding, ‘What ho, minion! I need thee!’
Out came Meg, with gray horsehair hanging about
her face, a red and black robe, a staff, and cabalistic
signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to
make Zara adore him, and one destroy Roderigo.
Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promised both, and
proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the
love philter.

Hither, hither, from thy home,

Airy sprite, I bid thee come!
Born of roses, fed on dew,
Charms and potions canst thou brew?
Bring me here, with elfin speed,
The fragrant philter which I need.
Make it sweet and swift and strong,
Spirit, answer now my song!

A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the

back of the cave appeared a little figure in cloudy
white, with glit tering wings, golden hair, and a garland
of roses on its head. Waving a wand, it sang...

Hither I come,

26 Little Women
From my airy home,
Afar in the silver moon.
Take the magic spell,
And use it well,
Or its power will vanish soon!

And dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch’s

feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar
produced another apparition, not a lovely one, for with
a bang an ugly black imp appeared and, having
croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo and
disappeared with a mocking laugh. Having warbled
his thanks and put the potions in his boots, Hugo
departed, and Hagar informed the audience that as he
had killed a few of her friends in times past, she had
cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be
revenged on him. Then the curtain fell, and the
audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the
merits of the play.
A good deal of hammering went on before the
curtain rose again, but when it became evident what
a masterpiece of stage carpentery had been got up,
no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb. A
tower rose to the ceiling, halfway up appeared a
window with a lamp burning in it, and behind the
white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and
silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in
gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut
lovelocks, a guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling
at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting
tones. Zara replied and, after a musical dialogue,
consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the
play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder,

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 27

with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited
Zara to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice,
put her hand on Roderigo’s shoulder, and was about
to leap gracfully down when ‘Alas! Alas for Zara!’ she
forgot her train. It caught in the window, the tower
tottered, leaned forward, fell with a crash, and buried
the unhappy lovers in the ruins.
A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved
wild ly from the wreck and a golden head emerged,
exclaiming, ‘I told you so! I told you so!’ With
wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel
sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hasty
aside...
‘Don’t laugh! Act as if it was all right!’ and, ordering
Roderigo up, banished him form the kingdom with
wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall
from the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old
gentleman and refused to stir. This dauntless
example fired Zara. She also defied her sire, and he
ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the
castle. A stout little retainer came in with chains and
led them away, looking very much frightened and
evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have
made.
Act third was the castle hall, and here Hagar
appeared, having come to free the lovers and finish
Hugo. She hears him coming and hides, sees him put
the potions into two cups of wine and bid the the timid
little servant, ‘Bear them to the captives in their cells,
and tell them I shall come anon.’ The servant takes
Hugo aside to tell him something, and Hagar changes
the cups for two others which are harm less.
Ferdinando, the ‘minion’, carries them away, and
Hagar puts back the cup which holds the poison
meant for Roderi-

28 Little Women
go. Hugo, getting thirsty after a long warble, drinks it,
loses his wits, and after a good deal of clutching and
stamping, falls flat and dies, while Hagar informs him
what she has done in a song of exquisite power and
melody.
This was a truly thrilling scene, though some
persons might have thought that the sudden tumbling
down of a quantity of long red hair rather marred the
effect of the villain’s death. He was called before the
curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading
Hagar, whose singing was considered more
wonderful than all the rest of the perfor
mance put together.
Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the
point of stabbing himself because he has been told
that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at
his heart, a lovely song is sung under his window,
informing him that Zara is true but in danger, and he
can save her if he will. A key is thrown in, which
unlocks the door, and in a spasm of rapture he tears
off his chains and rushes away to find and rescue his
lady love.
Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara
and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into a convent,
but she won’t hear of it, and after a touching appeal,
is about to faint when Roderigo dashes in and
demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he
is not rich. They shout and gesticulate tremendously
but cannot agree, and Rodrigo is about to bear away
the exhausted Zara, when the timid servant enters
with a letter and a bag from Hagar, who has
mysteriously disappeared. The latter informs the party
that she bequeths untold wealth to the young pair and
an awful

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doom to Don Pedro, if he doesn’t make them happy.
The bag is opened, and several quarts of tin money
shower down upon the stage till it is quite glorified
with the glitter. This entirely softens the stern sire. He
consents without a mur
mur, all join in a joyful chorus, and the curtain falls
upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro’s
blessing in atti tudes of the most romantic grace.
Tumultuous applause followed but received an
unexpect ed check, for the cot bed, on which the
dress circle was built, suddenly shut up and
extinguished the enthusiastic audi ence. Roderigo and
Don Pedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out
unhurt, though many were speechless with laughter.
the excitement had hardly subsided when Hannah
appeared, with ‘Mrs. March’s compliments, and would
the ladies walk down to supper.’
This was a surprise even to the actors, and when
they saw the table, they looked at one another in
rapturous amaze ment. It was like Marmee to get up a
little treat for them, but anything so fine as this was
unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There
was ice cream, actually two dishes of it, pink and
white, and cake and fruit and distracting french
bonbons and, in the middle of the table, four great
bouquets of hot house flowers.
It quite took their breath away, and they stared first
at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if
she enjoyed it immensely.
‘Is it fairies?’ asked Amy.
‘Santa Claus,’ said Beth.
‘Mother did it.’ And Meg smiled her sweetest, in

spite of 30 Little Women

her gray beard and white eyebrows.

‘Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper,’
cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration.
‘All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it,’ replied Mrs.
March.
‘The Laurence boy’s grandfather! What in the world
put such a thing into his head? We don’t know him!’
exclaimed Meg.
‘Hannah told one of his servants about your
breakfast party. He is an odd old gentleman, but that
pleased him. He knew my father years ago, and he
sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped
I would allow him to express his friendly feeling
toward my children by sending them a few trifles in
honor of the day. I could not refuse, and so you have
a little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk
breakfast.’
‘That boy; put it into his head, I know he did! He’s a
capi tal 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

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 31

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 oppor tunity 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.’

32 Little Women

CHAPTER THREE

‘Jo! Jo! Where are you?’ cried Meg at the foot of the
gar ret stairs.
‘Here!’ answered a husky voice from above, and,
run ning up, Meg found her sister eating apples and
crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a
comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny
window. This was Jo’s fa vorite refuge, and here she
loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice
book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat
who lived near by and didn’t mind her a particle. As
Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo
shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the
news.
‘Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation
from Mrs. Gardiner for tomorrow night!’ cried Meg,
waving the precious paper and then proceeding to
read it with girlish delight.
‘Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March
and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New Year’s
Eve.’ Marmee is willing we should go, now what shall
we wear?’
‘What’s the use of asking that, when you know we
shall wear our poplins, because we haven’t got
anything else?’ an swered Jo with her mouth full.
‘If I only had a silk!’ sighed Meg. ‘Mother says I may
when I’m eighteen perhaps, but two years is an
everlasting time to wait.’

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‘I’m sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice
enough for us. Yours is as good as new, but I forgot
the burn and the tear in mine. Whatever shall I do?
The burn shows badly, and I can’t take any out.’
‘You must sit still all you can and keep your back
out of sight. The front is all right. I shall have a new
ribbon for my hair, and Marmee will lend me her little
pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and my
gloves will do, though they aren’t as nice as I’d like.’
‘Mine are spoiled with lemonade, and I can’t get
any new ones, so I shall have to go without,’ said Jo,
who never trou bled herself much about dress.
‘You must have gloves, or I won’t go,’ cried Meg
decid edly. ‘Gloves are more important than anything
else. You can’t dance without them, and if you don’t I
should be so mortified.’ ‘Then I’ll stay still. I don’t care
much for com pany dancing. It’s no fun to go sailing
round. I like to fly about and cut capers.’
‘You can’t ask Mother for new ones, they are so
expen sive, and you are so careless. She said when
you spoiled the others that she shouldn’t get you any
more this winter. Can’t you make them do?’
‘I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no
one will know how stained they are. That’s all I can
do. No! I’ll tell you how we can manage, each wear
one good one and carry a bad one. Don’t you see?’
‘Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will
stretch my glove dreadfully,’ began Meg, whose
gloves were a ten der point with her.

34 Little Women
‘Then I’ll go without. I don’t care what people say!’
cried Jo, taking up her book.
‘You may have it, you may! Only don’t stain it, and
do behave nicely. Don’t put your hands behind you, or
stare, or say ‘Christopher Columbus!’ will you?’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be as prim ad I can and
not get into any scrapes, if I can help it. Now go and
answer your note, and let me finish this splendid
story.’
So Meg went away to ‘accept with thanks’, look
over her dress, and sing blithely as she did up her
one real lace frill, while Jo finished her story, her four
apples, and had a game of romps with Scrabble.
On New Year’s Eve the parlor was deserted, for the
two younger girls played dressing maids and the two
elder were absorbed in the all-important business of
‘getting ready for the party’. Simple as the toilets
were, there was a great deal of running up and down,
laughing and talking, and at one time a strong smell
of burned hair pervaded the house. Meg wanted a
few curls about her face, and Jo undertook to pinch
the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs.
‘Ought they to smoke like that?’ asked Beth from
her perch on the bed.
‘It’s the dampness drying,’ replied Jo.
‘What a queer smell! It’s like burned feathers,’
observed Amy, smoothing her own pretty curls with a
superior air. ‘There, now I’ll take off the papers and
you’ll see a cloud of little ringlets,’ said Jo, putting
down the tongs. She did take off the papers, but no
cloud of ringlets ap peared, for the hair came with the
papers, and the horrified

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 35

hairdresser laid a row of little scorched bundles on
the bu reau before her victim.
‘Oh, oh, oh! What have you done? I’m spoiled! I
can’t go! My hair, oh, my hair!’ wailed Meg, looking
with despair at the uneven frizzle on her forehead.
‘Just my luck! You shouldn’t have asked me to do it.
I al ways spoil everything. I’m so sorry, but the tongs
were too hot, and so I’ve made a mess,’ groaned
poor Jo, regarding the little black pancakes with tears
of regret.
‘It isn’t spoiled. Just frizzle it, and tie your ribbon so
the ends come on your forehead a bit, and it will look
like the last fashion. I’ve seen many girls do it so,’
said Amy con solingly.
‘Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I’d let
my hair alone,’ cried Meg petulantly.
‘So do I, it was so smooth and pretty. But it will
soon grow out again,’ said Beth, coming to kiss and
comfort the shorn sheep.
After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last,
and by the united exertions of the entire family Jo’s
hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very
well in their sim ple suits, Meg’s in silvery drab, with a
blue velvet snood, lace frills, and the pearl pin. Jo in
maroon, with a stiff, gentle manly linen collar, and a
white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament.
Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one
soiled one, and all pronounced the effect ‘quite easy
and fine”. Meg’s high-heeled slippers were very tight
and hurt her, though she would not own it, and Jo’s
nine teen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her
head, which

36 Little Women
was not exactly comfortable, but, dear me, let us be
elegant or die.
‘Have a good time, dearies!’ said Mrs. March, as
the sis ters went daintily down the walk. ‘Don’t eat
much supper, and come away at eleven when I send
Hannah for you.’ As the gate clashed behind them, a
voice cried from a win dow...
‘Girls, girls! Have you you both got nice pocket
hand kerchiefs?’
‘Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on
hers,’ cried Jo, adding with a laugh as they went on, ‘I
do believe Marmee would ask that if we were all
running away from an earthquake.
‘It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper,
for a real lady is always known by neat boots, gloves,
and handkerchief,’ replied Meg, who had a good
many little ‘aristocratic tastes’ of her own.
‘Now don’t forget to keep the bad breadth out of
sight, Jo. Is my sash right? And does my hair look
very bad?’ said Meg, as she turned from the glass in
Mrs. Gardiner’s dress ing room after a prolonged
prink.
‘I know I shall forget. If you see me doing anything
wrong, just remind me by a wink, will you?’ returned
Jo, giving her collar a twitch and her head a hasty
brush.
‘No, winking isn’t ladylike. I’ll lift my eyebrows if any
thing is wrong, and nod if you are all right. Now hold
your shoulder straight, and take short steps, and don’t
shake hands if you are introduced to anyone. It isn’t
the thing.’
‘How do you learn all the proper ways? I never can.

Isn’t Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 37

that music gay?’
Down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they
seldom went to parties, and informal as this little
gathering was, it was an event to them. Mrs.
Gardiner, a stately old lady, greeted them kindly and
handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters.
Meg knew Sallie and was at her ease very soon, but
Jo, who didn’t care much for girls or girlish gossip,
stood about, with her back carefully against the wall,
and felt as much out of place as a colt in a flower
garden. Half a dozen jovial lads were talking about
skates in another part of the room, and she longed to
go and join them, for skat ing was one of the joys of
her life. She telegraphed her wish to Meg, but the
eyebrows went up so alarmingly that she dared not
stir. No one came to talk to her, and one by one the
group dwindled away till she was left alone. She could
not roam about and amuse herself, for the burned
breadth would show, so she stared at people rather
forlornly till the dancing began. Meg was asked at
once, and the tight slip pers tripped about so briskly
that none would have guessed the pain their wearer
suffered smilingly. Jo saw a big red headed youth
approaching her corner, and fearing he meant to
engage her, she slipped into a curtained recess,
intending to peep and enjoy herself in peace.
Unfortunately, another bashful person had chosen the
same refuge, for, as the cur tain fell behind her, she
found herself face to face with the ‘Laurence boy’.
‘Dear me, I didn’t know anyone was here!’
stammered Jo, preparing to back out as speedily as
she had bounced in. But the boy laughed and said
pleasantly, though he

38 Little Women
looked a little startled, ‘Don’t mind me, stay if you
like.’ ‘Shan’t I disturb you?’
‘Not a bit. I only came here because I don’t know
many people and felt rather strange at first, you
know.’ ‘So did I. Don’t go away, please, unless you’d
rather.’ The boy sat down again and looked at his
pumps, till Jo said, trying to be polite and easy, ‘I think
I’ve had the plea sure of seeing you before. You live
near us, don’t you?’ ‘Next door.’ And he looked up and
laughed outright, for Jo’s prim manner was rather
funny when he remembered how they had chatted
about cricket when he brought the cat home.
That put Jo at her ease and she laughed too, as
she said, in her heartiest way, ‘We did have such a
good time over your nice Christmas present.’
‘Grandpa sent it.’
‘But you put it into his head, didn’t you, now?’ ‘How
is your cat, Miss March?’ asked the boy, trying to look
sober while his black eyes shone with fun. ‘Nicely,
thank you, Mr. Laurence. But I am not Miss March,
I’m only Jo,’ returned the young lady.
‘I’m not Mr. Laurence, I’m only Laurie.’
‘Laurie Laurence, what an odd name.’
‘My first name is theodore, but I don’t like it, for the
fel lows called me Dora, so I made the say Laurie
instead.’ ‘I hate my name, too, so sentimental! I wish
every one would say Jo instead of Josephine. How
did you make the boys stop calling you Dora?’
‘I thrashed ‘em.’

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 39

‘I can’t thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall
have to bear it.’ And Jo resigned herself with a sigh.
‘Don’t you like to dance, Miss Jo?’ asked Laurie,
looking as if he thought the name suited her.
‘I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and
every one is lively. In a place like this I’m sure to upset
something, tread on people’s toes, or do something
dreadful, so I keep out of mischief and let Meg sail
about. Don’t you dance?’
‘Sometimes. You see I’ve been abroad a good
many years, and haven’t been into company enough
yet to know how you do things here.’
‘Abroad!.’ cried Jo. ‘Oh, tell me about it! I love
dearly to hear people describe their travels.’
Laurie didn’t seem to know where to begin, but Jo’s
eager questions soon set him going, and he told her
how he had been at school in Vevay, where the boys
never wore hats and had a fleet of boats on the lake,
and for holiday fun went on walking trips about
Switzerland with their teachers.
‘Don’t I wish I’d been there!’ cried Jo. ‘Did you go
to Par is?’
‘We spent last winter there.’
‘Can you talk French?’
‘We were not allowed to speak anything else at
Vevay.’ ‘Do say some! I can read it, but can’t
pronounce.’ ‘Quel nom a cetter jeune demoiselle en
les pantoulles jo lis?’
‘How nicely you do it! Let me see...you said, ‘Who
is the young lady in the pretty slippers’, didn’t you?’
‘Oui, mademoiselle.’

40 Little Women
‘It’s my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do
you think she is pretty?’
‘Yes, she makes me think of the German girls, she
looks so fresh and quiet, and dances like a lady.’
Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise
of her sister, and stored it up to repeat to Meg. Both
peeped and critisized and chatted till they felt like old
acquaintances. Laurie’s bashfulness soon wore off,
for Jo’s gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him
at his ease, and Jo was her merry self again,
because her dress was forgotten and no
body lifted their eyebrows at her. She liked the
‘Laurence boy’ better than ever and took several
good looks at him, so that she might describe him to
the girls, for they had no brothers, very few male
cousins, and boys were almost un
known creatures to them.
‘Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes,
handsome nose, fine teeth, small hands and feet,
taller than I am, very polite, for a boy, and altogether
jolly. Wonder how old he is?’
It was on the tip of Jo’s tongue to ask, but she
checked herself in time and, with unusual tact, tried to
find out in a round-about way.
 ‘I suppose you are going to college soon? I see you
peg ging away at your books, no, I mean studying
hard.’ And Jo blushed at the dreadful ‘pegging’ which
had escaped her.
Laurie smiled but didn’t seem shocked, and
answered with a shrug. ‘Not for a year or two. I won’t
go before sev enteen, anyway.’
‘Aren’t you but fifteen?’ asked Jo, looking at the tall

lad, Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 41

whom she had imagined seventeen already.

‘Sixteen, next month.’
‘How I wish I was going to college! You don’t look
as if you liked it.’
‘I hate it! Nothing but grinding or skylarking. And I
don’t like the way fellows do either, in this country.’
‘What do you like?’
‘To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way.’
Jo wanted very much to ask what his own way was,
but his black brows looked rather threatening as he
knit them, so she changed the subject by saying, as
her foot kept time, ‘That’s a splendid polka! Why don’t
you go and try it?’ ‘If you will come too,’ he answered,
with a gallant little bow.
‘I can’t, for I told meg I wouldn’t, because...’ There
Jo stopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or
to laugh. ‘Because, what?’
‘You won’t tell?’
‘Never!’
 ‘Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire,
and so I burn my frocks, and I scorched this one, and
though it’s nicely mended, it shows, and Meg told me
to keep still so no one would see it. You may laugh, if
you want to. It is funny, I know.’
But Laurie didn’t laugh. He only looked dawn a
minute, and the expression of his face puzzled Jo
when he said very gently, ‘Never mind that. I’ll tell you
how we can manage. There’s a long hall out there,
and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us.
Please come.’

42 Little Women
Jo thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had
two neat gloves when she saw the nice, pearl-colored
ones her partner wore. The hall was empty, and they
had a grand pol ka, for Laurie danced well, and taught
her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full of
swing and spring. When the music stopped, they sat
down on the stairs to get their breath, and Laurie was
in the midst of an account of a stu dents’ festival at
Heidelberg when Meg appeared in search of her
sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her
into a side room, where she found her on a sofa,
holding her foot, and looking pale.
‘I’ve sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel
turned and gave me a sad wrench. It aches so, I can
hardly stand, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to
get home,’ she said, rock ing to and fro in pain.
‘I knew you’d hurt your feet with those silly shoes.
I’m sorry. But I don’t see what you can do, except get
a carriage, or stay here all night,’ answered Jo, softly
rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke.
‘I can’t have a carriage without its costing ever so
much. I dare say I can’t get one at all, for most people
come in their own, and it’s a long way to the stable,
and no one to send.’ ‘I’ll go.’
‘No, indeed! It’s past nine, and dark as Egypt. I
can’t stop here, for the house is full. Sallie has some
girls staying with her. I’ll rest till Hannah comes, and
then do the best I can.’
‘I’ll ask Laurie. He will go,’ said Jo,’ looking relieved
as the idea occurred to her.
‘Mercy, no! Don’t ask or tell anyone. Get me my

rubbers, Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 43

and put these slippers with our things. I can’t dance

any more, but as soon as supper is over, watch for
Hannah and tell me the minute she comes.’
‘They are going out to supper now. I’ll stay with
you. I’d rather.’
‘No, dear, run along, and bring me some coffee. I’m
so tired I can’t stir.’
So Meg reclined, with rubbers well hidden, and Jo
went blundering away to the dining room, which she
found after going into a china closet, and opening the
door of a room where old Mr. Gardiner was taking a
little private refresh
ment. Making a dart at the table, she secured the
coffee, which she immediately spilled, thereby making
the front of her dress as bad as the back.
‘Oh, dear, what a blunderbuss I am!’ exclaimed Jo,
finish ing Meg’s glove by scrubbing her gown with it.
‘Can I help you?’ said a friendly voice. And there was
Laurie, with a full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in
the other.
‘I was trying to get something for Meg, who is very
tired, and someone shook me, and here I am in a
nice state,’ an swered Jo, glancing dismally from the
stained skirt to the coffee-colored glove.
‘Too bad! I was looking for someone to give this to.
May I take it to your sister?’
‘Oh, thank you! I’ll show you where she is. I don’t
offer to take it myself, for I should only get into
another scrape if I did.’
Jo led the way, and as if used to waiting on ladies,

Laurie 44 Little Women

drew up a little table, brought a second installment of

coffee and ice for Jo, and was so obliging that even
particular Meg pronounced him a ‘nice boy’. They had
a merry time over the bonbons and mottoes, and
were in the midst of a quiet game of BUZZ, with two
or three other young people who had strayed in,
when Hannah appeared. Meg forgot her foot and rose
so quickly that she was forced to catch hold of Jo,
with an exclamation of pain.
‘Hush! Don’t say anything,’ she whispered, adding
aloud, ‘It’s nothing. I turned my foot a little, that’s all,’
and limped upstairs to put her things on. Hannah
scolded, Meg cried, and Jo was at her wits’ end, till se
decided to take things into her own hands. Slipping
out, she ran down and, finding a servant, asked if he
could get her a carriage. It happened to be a hired
waiter who knew nothing about the neighbor hood and
Jo was looking round for help when Laurie, who had
heard what she said, came up and offered his grandfa
ther’s carriage, which had just come for him, he said.
‘It’s so early! You can’t mean to go yet?’ began Jo.
looking relieved but hesitating to accept the offer.
‘I always go early, I do, truly! Please let me take
you home. It’s all on my way, you know, and it rains,
they say.’ That settled it, and telling him of Meg’s
mishap, Jo grate fully accepted and rushed up to bring
down the rest of the party. Hannah hated rain as
much as a cat does so she made no trouble, and they
rolled away in the luxurious close car riage, feeling
very festive and elegant. Laurie went on the box so
Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over
their party in freedom.

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 45

‘I had a capital time. Did you?’ asked Jo, rumpling
up her hair, and making herself comfortable.
‘Yes, till I hurt myself. Sallie’s friend, Annie Moffat,
took a fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend
a week with her when Sallie does. She is going in the
spring when the op era comes, and it will be perfectly
splendid, if Mother only lets me go,’ answered Meg,
cheering up at the thought.
 ‘I saw you dancing with the red headed man I ran
away from. Was he nice?’
‘Oh. very! His hair is auburn, not red, and he was
very polite, and I had a delicious redowa with him.’
‘He looked like a grasshopper in a fit when he did the
new step. Laurie and I couldn’t help laughing. Did you
hear us?’
‘No, but it was very rude. What were you about all
that time, hidden away there?’
Jo told her adventures, and by the time she had
finished they were at home. With many thanks, they
said good night and crept in, hoping to disturb no one,
but the instant their door creaked, two little nightcaps
bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cried
out...
‘Tell about the party! Tell about the party!’
With what Meg called ‘a great want of manners’ Jo
had saved some bonbons for the little girls, and they
soon subsid ed, after hearing the most thrilling events
of the evening.
‘I declare, it really seems like being a fine young
lady, to come home from the party in a carriage and
sit in my dress ing gown wit a maid to wait on me,’
said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot with arnica and
brushed her hair.

46 Little Women
‘I don’t believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves
a bit more than we do, in spite of our burned hair, old
gowns, one glove apiece and tight slippers that sprain
our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them,’
And I think Jo was quite right.

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 47

Chapter 4
‘Oh, dear, how hard it does seem to take up our packs
and go on,’ sighed Meg the morning after the party,
for now the holidays were over, the week of
merrymaking did not fit her for going on easily with
the task she never liked.
‘I wish it was Christmas or New Year’s all the time.
Wouldn’t it be fun?’ answered Jo, yawning dismally.
‘We shouldn’t enjoy ourselves half so much as we do
now. But it does seem so nice to have little suppers
and bouquets, and go to parties, and drive home, and
read and rest, and not work. It’s like other people, you
know, and I always envy girls who do such things, I’m
so fond of luxury,’ said Meg, trying to decide which of
two shabby gowns was the least shabby.
‘Well, we can’t have it, so don’t let us grumble but
shoul der our bundles and trudge along as cheerfully
as Marmee does. I’m sure Aunt March is a regular
Old Man of the Sea to me, but I suppose when I’ve
learned to carry her without complaining, she will
tumble off, or get so light that I shan’t mind her.’
This idea tickled Jo’s fancy and put her in good
spirits, but Meg didn’t brighten, for her burden,
consisting of four spoiled children, seemed heavier
than ever. She had not heart enough even to make
herself pretty as usual by put
ting on a blue neck ribbon and dressing her hair in the
most 48 Little Women

becoming way.
‘Where’s the use of looking nice, when no one sees
me but those cross midgets, and no one cares
whether I’m pret ty or not?’ she muttered, shutting her
drawer with a jerk. ‘I shall have to toil and moil all my
days, with only little bits of fun now and then, and get
old and ugly and sour, be cause I’m poor and can’t
enjoy my life as other girls do. It’s a shame!’
So Meg went down, wearing an injured look, and
wasn’t at all agreeable at breakfast time. Everyone
seemed rather out of sorts and inclined to croak.
Beth had a headache and lay on the sofa, trying to
com fort herself with the cat and three kittens. Amy
was fretting because her lessons were not learned,
and she couldn’t find her rubbers. Jo would whistle
and make a great racket get ting ready.
Mrs. March was very busy trying to finish a letter,
which must go at once, and Hannah had the grumps,
for being up late didn’t suit her.
‘There never was such a cross family!’ cried Jo,
losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand,
broken both boot lacings, and sat down upon her hat.
‘You’re the crossest person in it!’ returned Amy,
washing out the sum that was all wrong with the tears
that had fallen on her slate.
‘Beth, if you don’t keep these horrid cats down
cellar I’ll have them drowned,’ exclaimed Meg angrily
as she tried to get rid of the kitten which had
scrambled up her back and stuck like a burr just out
of reach.

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 49

Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, and Amy
wailed because she couldn’t remember how much
nine times twelve was.
‘Girls, girls, do be quiet one minute! I must get this
off by the early mail, and you drive me distracted with
your worry,’ cried Mrs. March, crossing out the third
spoiled sentence in her letter.
There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah,
who stalked in, laid two hot turnovers on the table,
and stalked out again. These turnovers were an
institution, and the girls called them ‘muffs’, for they
had no others and found the hot pies very comforting
to their hands on cold mornings.
Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how
busy or grumpy she might be, for the walk was long
and bleak. The poor things got no other lunch and
were seldom home before two.
‘Cuddle your cats and get over your headache,
Bethy. Goodbye, Marmee. We are a set of rascals
this morning, but we’ll come home regular angels.
Now then, Meg!’ And Jo tramped away, feeling that
the pilgrims were not setting out as they ought to do.
They always looked back before turning the corner,
for their mother was always at the window to nod and
smile, and wave her hand to them. Somehow it
seemed as if they couldn’t have got through the day
without that, for what
ever their mood might be, the last glimpse of that
motherly face was sure to affect them like sunshine.
‘If Marmee shook her fist instead of kissing her
hand to us, it would serve us right, for more
ungrateful wretches

50 Little Women
than we are were never seen,’ cried Jo, taking a
remorseful satisfaction in the snowy walk and bitter
wind. ‘Don’t use such dreadful expressions,’ replied
Meg from the depths of the veil in which she had
shrouded herself like a nun sick of the world.
‘I like good strong words that mean something,’
replied Jo, catching her hat as it took a leap off her
head preparatory to flying away altogether.
‘Call yourself any names you like, but I am neither
a ras cal nor a wretch and I don’t choose to be called
so.’ ‘You’re a blighted being, and decidedly cross
today be cause you can’t sit in the lap of luxury all the
time. Poor dear, just wait till I make my fortune, and
you shall revel in carriages and ice cream and
high-heeled slippers, and po sies, and red-headed
boys to dance with.’
‘How ridiculous you are, Jo!’ But Meg laughed at
the nonsense and felt better in spite of herself.
‘Lucky for you I am, for if I put on crushed airs and
tried to be dismal, as you do, we should be in a nice
state. Thank goodness, I can always find something
funny to keep me up. Don’t croak any more, but come
home jolly, there’s a dear.’
Jo gave her sister an encouraging pat on the
shoulder as they parted for the day, each going a
different way, each hugging her little warm turnover,
and each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry
weather, hard work, and the un
satisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth.
When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help
an unfortunate friend, the two oldest girls begged to
be allowed to do something toward their own support,
at least. Believ-

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 51

ing that they could not begin too early to cultivate
energy, industry, and independence, their parents
consented, and both fell to work with the hearty good
will which in spite of all obstacles is sure to succeed
at last.
Margaret found a place as nursery governess and
felt rich with her small salary. As she said, she was
‘fond of luxury’, and her chief trouble was poverty.
She found it harder to bear than the others because
she could remember a time when home was
beautiful, life full of ease and pleasure, and want of
any kind unknown. She tried not to be envious or
discontented, but it was very natural that the young
girl should long for pretty things, gay friends,
accomplishments, and a happy life. At the Kings’ she
daily saw all she want ed, for the children’s older
sisters were just out, and Meg caught frequent
glimpses of dainty ball dresses and bou
quets, heard lively gossip about theaters, concerts,
sleighing parties, and merrymakings of all kinds, and
saw money lav ished on trifles which would have been
so precious to her. Poor Meg seldom complained, but
a sense of injustice made her feel bitter toward
everyone sometimes, for she had not yet learned to
know how rich she was in the blessings which alone
can make life happy.
Jo happened to suit Aunt March, who was lame and
needed an active person to wait upon her. The
childless old lady had offered to adopt one of the girls
when the trou bles came, and was much offended
because her offer was declined. Other friends told the
Marches that they had lost all chance of being
remembered in the rich old lady’s will, but the
unworldly Marches only said...

52 Little Women
‘We can’t give up our girls for a dozen fortunes.
Rich or poor, we will keep together and be happy in
one another.’ The old lady wouldn’t speak to them for
a time, but hap pening to meet Jo at at a friend’s,
something in her comical face and blunt manners
struck the old lady’s fancy, and she proposed to take
her for a companion. This did not suit Jo at all, but
she accepted the place since nothing better ap peared
and, to every one’s surprise, got on remarkably well
with her irascible relative. There was an occasional
tempest, and once Jo marched home, declaring she
couldn’t bear it longer, but Aunt March always cleared
up quickly, and sent for her to come back again with
such urgency that she could not refuse, for in her
heart she rather liked the peppery old lady.
 I suspect that the real attraction was a large library
of fine books, which was left to dust and spiders since
Uncle March died. Jo remembered the kind old
gentleman, who used to let her build railroads and
bridges with his big dictionaries, tell her stories about
queer pictures in his Latin books, and buy her cards
of gingerbread whenever he met her in the street.
The dim, dusty room, with the busts staring down
from the tall bookcases, the cozy chairs, the globes,
and best of all, the wilderness of books in which she
could wander where she liked, made the library a
region of bliss to her.
The moment Aunt March took her nap, or was busy
with company, Jo hurried to this quiet place, and
curling her self up in the easy chair, devoured poetry,
romance, history, travels, and pictures like a regular
bookworm. But, like all happiness, it did not last long,
for as sure as she had just

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 53

reached the heart of the story, the sweetest verse of a
song, or the most perilous adventure of her traveler, a
shrill voice called, ‘Josy-phine! Josy-phine! and she
had to leave her paradise to wind yarn, wash the
poodle, or read Belsham’s Essays by the hour
together.
Jo’s ambition was to do something very splendid.
What it was, she had no idea as yet, but left it for time
to tell her, and meanwhile, found her greatest
affliction in the fact that she couldn’t read, run, and
ride as much as she liked. A quick temper, sharp
tongue, and restless spirit were always getting her
into scrapes, and her life was a series of ups and
downs, which were both comic and pathetic. But the
training she received at Aunt March’s was just what
she needed, and the thought that she was doing
something to support herself made her happy in spite
of the perpetual ‘Josy-phine!’
Beth was too bashful to go to school.It had been
tried, but she suffered so much that it was given up,
and she did her lessons at home with her father. Even
when he went away, and her mother was called to
devote her skill and energy to Soldiers’ Aid Societies,
Beth went faithfully on by her
self and did the best she could. She was a
housewifely little creature, and helped Hannah keep
home neat and comfort able for the workers, never
thinking of any reward but to be loved. Long, quiet
days she spent, not lonely nor idle, for her little world
was peopled with imaginary friends, and she was by
nature a busy bee. There were six dolls to be taken
up and dressed every morning, for Beth was a child
still and and loved her pets as well as ever. Not one
whole or hand
some one among them, all were outcasts till Beth took

them 54 Little Women

in, for when her sisters outgrew these idols, they

passed to her because Amy would have nothing old
or ugly. Beth cher ished them all the more tenderly for
that very reason, and set up a hospital for infirm dolls.
No pins were ever stuck into their cotton vitals, no
harsh words or blows were ever given them, no
neglect ever saddened the heart or the most
repulsive, but all were fed and clothed, nursed and
caressed with an affection which never failed. One
forlorn fragment of dollanity had belonged to Jo and,
having led a tempestu
ous life, was left a wreck in the rag bag, from which
dreary poorhouse it was rescued by Beth and taken
to her refuge. Having no top to its head, she tied on a
neat little cap, and as both arms and legs were gone,
she hid these deficiencies by folding it in a blanket
and devoting her best bed to this chronic invalid. If
anyone had known the care lavished on that dolly, I
think it would have touched their hearts, even while
they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets, she
read to it, took it out to breathe fresh air, hidden under
her coat, she sang it lullabies and never went to be
without kissing its dirty face and whispering tenderly,
‘I hope you’ll have a good night, my poor dear.’
Beth had her troubles as well as the others, and not
be ing an angel but a very human little girl, she often
‘wept a little weep’ as Jo said, because she couldn’t
take music les sons and have a fine piano. She loved
music so dearly, tried so hard to learn, and practiced
away so patiently at the jin gling old instrument, that it
did seem as if someone (not to hint Aunt March)
ought to help her. Nobody did, however, and nobody
saw Beth wipe the tears off the yellow keys, that
 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 55
wouldn’t keep in tune, when she was all alone. She
sang like a little lark about her work, never was too
tired for Marmee and the girls, and day after day said
hopefully to herself,’ I know I’ll get my music some
time, if I’m good.’
There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet,
sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so
cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little
cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet,
sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and
shadow behind.
If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of
her life was, she would have answered at once, ‘My
nose.’ When she was a baby, Jo had accidently
dropped her into the coal hod, and Amy insisted that
the fall had ruined her nose for
ever. It was not big nor red, like poor ‘Petrea’s’, it was
only rather flat, and all the pinching in the world could
not give it an aristocratic point. No one minded it but
herself, and it was doing its best to grow, but Amy felt
deeply the want of a Grecian nose, and drew whole
sheets of handsome ones to console herself.
‘Little Raphael,’ as her sisters called her, had a
decided talent for drawing, and was never so happy
as when copying flowers, designing fairies, or
illustrating stories with queer specimens of art. Her
teachers complained that instead of doing her sums
she covered her slate with animals, the blank pages
of her atlas were used to copy maps on, and car
icatures of the most ludicrous description came
fluttering out of all her books at unlucky moments.
She got through her lessons as well as she could,
and managed to escape rep rimands by being a
model of deportment. She was a great

56 Little Women
favorite with her mates, being good-tempered and
possess ing the happy art of pleasing without effort.
Her little airs and graces were much admired, so
were her accomplish ments, for besides her drawing,
she could play twelve tunes, crochet, and read
French without mispronouncing more than two-thirds
of the words. She had a plaintive way of saying,
‘When Papa was rich we did so-and-so,’ which was
very touching, and her long words were considered
‘perfect ly elegant’ by the girls.
Amy was in a fair way to be spoiled, for everyone
petted her, and her small vanities and selfishnesses
were growing nicely. One thing, however, rather
quenched the vanities. She had to wear her cousin’s
clothes. Now Florence’s mama hadn’t a particle of
taste, and Amy suffered deeply at having to wear a
red instead of a blue bonnet, unbecoming gowns, and
fussy aprons that did not fit. Everything was good, well
made, and little worn, but Amy’s artistic eyes were
much af flicted, especially this winter, when her school
dress was a dull purple with yellow dots and no
trimming.
‘My only comfort,’ she said to Meg, with tears in her
eyes, ‘is that Mother doesn’t take tucks in my dresses
whenever I’m naughty, as Maria Parks’s mother does.
My dear, it’s re ally dreadful, for sometimes she is so
bad her frock is up to her knees, and she can’t come
to school. When I think of this deggerredation, I fell
that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown
with yellow skyrockets on it.’
Meg was Amy’s confidante and monitor, and by
some strange attraction of opposites Jo was gentle
Beth’s. To Jo alone did the shy child tell her thoughts,
and over her big

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 57

harum-scarum sister Beth unconsciously exercised
more influence than anyone in the family. The two
older girls were a great deal to one another, but each
took one of the younger sisters into her keeping and
watched over her in her own way, ‘playing mother’
they called it, and put their sisters in the places of
discarded dolls with the maternal in
stinct of litte women.
‘Has anybody got anything to tell? It’s been such a
dismal day I’m really dying for some amusement,’
said Meg, as they sat sewing together that evening.
‘I had a queer time with Aunt today, and, as I got
the best of it, I’ll tell you about it,’ began Jo, who
dearly loved to tell stories. ‘I was reading that
everlasting Belsham, and dron ing away as I always
do, for Aunt soon drops off, and then I take out some
nice book, and read like fury till she wakes up. I
actually made myself sleepy, and before she began to
nod, I gave such a gape that she asked me what I
meant by opening my mouth wide enough to take the
whole book in at once.
‘I wish I could, and be done with it,’ said I, trying not
to be saucy.
‘Then she gave me a long lecture on my sins, and
told me to sit and think them over while she just ‘lost’
herself for a moment. She never finds herself very
soon, so the minute her cap began to bob like a
top-heavy dahlia, I whipped the VICAR OF
WAKEFIELD out of my pocket, and read away, with
one eye on him and one on Aunt. I’d just got to where
they all tumbled into the water when I forgot and
laughed out loud. Aunt woke up and, being more
good-natured after

58 Little Women
her nap, told me to read a bit and show what frivolous
work I preferred to the worthy and instructive
Belsham. I did my very best, and she liked it, though
she only said...
‘I don’t understand what it’s all about. Go back and
be gin it, child.’
‘Back I went, and made the Primroses as
interesting as ever I could. Once I was wicked
enough to stop in a thrill ing place, and say meekly,
‘I’m afraid it tires you, ma’am. Shan’t I stop now?’
‘She caught up her knitting, which had dropped out
of her hands, gave me a sharp look through her
specs, and said, in her short way, ‘Finish the chapter,
and don’t be im pertinent, miss’.’
‘Did she own she liked it?’ asked Meg.
 ‘Oh, bless you, no! But she let old Belsham rest,
and when I ran back after my gloves this afternoon,
there she was, so hard at the Vicar that she didn’t
hear me laugh as I danced a jig in the hall because of
the good time coming. What a pleasant life she might
have if only she chose! I don’t envy her much, in spite
of her money, for after all rich people have about as
many worries as poor ones, I think,’ added Jo.
‘That reminds me,’ said Meg, ‘that I’ve got something
to tell. It isn’t funny, like Jo’s story, but I thought about
it a good deal as I came home. At the Kings’ today I
found ev erybody in a flurry, and one of the children
said that her oldest brother had done something
dreadful, and Papa had sent him away. I heard Mrs.
King crying and Mr. King talk ing very loud, and Grace
and Ellen turned away their faces when they passed
me, so I shouldn’t see how red and swol-

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len their eyes were. I didn’t ask any questions, of
course, but I felt so sorry for them and was rather
glad I hadn’t any wild brothers to do wicked things
and disgrace the family.’
‘I think being disgraced in school is a great deal
tryinger than anything bad boys can do,’ said Amy,
shaking her head, as if her experience of life had
been a deep one. ‘Su sie Perkins came to school
today with a lovely red carnelian ring. I wanted it
dreadfully, and wished I was her with all my might.
Well, she drew a picture of Mr. Davis, with a
monstrous nose and a hump, and the words, ‘Young
ladies, my eye is upon you!’ coming out of his mouth
in a balloon thing. We were laughing over it when all
of a sudden his eye was on us, and he ordered Susie
to bring up her slate. She was parrylized with fright,
but she went, and oh, what do you think he did? He
took her by the ear—the ear! Just fancy how
horrid!—and led her to the recitation platform, and
made her stand there half and hour, holding the slate
so everyone could see.’
‘Didn’t the girls laugh at the picture?’ asked Jo,
who rel ished the scrape.
‘Laugh? Not one! They sat still as mice, and Susie
cried quarts, I know she did. I didn’t envy her then, for
I felt that millions of carnelian rings wouldn’t have
made me happy after that. I never, never should have
got over such a agoniz
ing mortification.’ And Amy went on with her work, in
the proud consciousness of virtue and the successful
utterance of two long words in a breath.
‘I saw something I liked this morning, and I meant
to tell it at dinner, but I forgot,’ said Beth, putting Jo’s
topsy-tur-

60 Little Women
vy basket in order as she talked. ‘When I went to get
some oysters for Hannah, Mr. Laurence was in the
fish shop, but he didn’t see me, for I kept behind the
fish barrel, and he was busy with Mr. Cutter the
fishman. A poor woman came in with a pail a mop,
and asked Mr. Cutter if he would let her do some
scrubbing for a bit of fish, because she hadn’t any
dinner for her children, and had been disappointed of
a day’s work. Mr. Cutter was in a hurry and said ‘No’,
rather crossly, so she was going away, looking hungry
and sorry, when Mr. Laurence hooked up a big fish
with the crooked end of his cane and held it out to
her. She was so glad and surprised she took it right
into her arms, and thanked him over and over. He told
her to ‘go along and cook it’, and she hurried off, so
happy! Wasn’t it good of him? Oh, she did look so
funny, hugging the big, slippery fish, and hoping Mr.
Laurence’s bed in heaven would be ‘aisy’.’
When they had laughed at Beth’s story, they asked
their mother for one, and after a moments thought,
she said so berly, ‘As I sat cutting out blue flannel
jackets today at the rooms, I felt very anxious about
Father, and thought how lonely and helpless we
should be , if anything happened to him. It was not a
wise thing to do, but I kept on worrying till an old man
came in with an order for some clothes. He sat down
near me, and I began to talk to him, for he looked
poor and tired and anxious.
‘Have you sons in the army?’ I asked, for the note
he brought was not to me. ‘Yes, ma’am. I had four,
but two were killed, one is a prisoner, and I’m going to
the other, who is very sick in a Washington hospital.’
he answered quietly.

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‘You have done a great deal for your country, sir, ‘ I
said, feeling respect now, instead of pity.
‘Not a mite more than I ought, ma’am. I’d go
myself, if I was any use. As I ain’t, I give my boys,
and give ‘em free.’ ‘He spoke so cheerfully, looked so
sincere, and seemed so glad to give his all, that I was
ashamed of myself. I’d giv en one man and thought it
too much, while he gave four without grudging them. I
had all my girls to comfort me at home, and his last
son was waiting, miles away, to say good-by to him,
perhaps! I felt so rich, so happy thinking of my
blessings, that I made him a nice bundle, gave him
some money, and thanked him heartily for the lesson
he had taught me.’
‘Tell another story, Mother, one with a moral to it,
like this. I like to think about them afterward, if they
are real and not too preachy,’ said Jo, after a minute’s
silence.
Mrs. March smiled and began at once, for she had
told stories to this little audience for many years, and
knew how to please them.
‘Once upon a time, there were four girls, who had
enough to eat and drink and wear, a good many
comforts and plea sures, kind friends and parents who
loved them dearly, and yet they were not contented.’
(Here the listeners stole sly looks at one another, and
began to sew diligently.) ‘These girls were anxious to
be good and made many excellent res olutions, but
they did not keep them very well, and were constantly
saying, ‘If only we had this, ‘ or ‘If we could only do
that, ‘ quite forgetting how much they already had, and
how many things they actually could do. So they
asked an
 62 Little Women
old woman what spell they could use to make them
happy, and she said, ‘When you feel discontented,
think over your blessings, and be grateful.’’ (Here Jo
looked up quickly, as if about to speak, but changed
her mind, seeing that the story was not done yet.)
‘Being sensible girls, they decided to try her advice,
and soon were surprised to see how well off they
were. One dis covered that money couldn’t keep
shame and sorrow out of rich people’s houses,
another that, though she was poor, she was a great
deal happier, with her youth, health, and good spirits,
than a certain fretful, feeble old lady who couldn’t
enjoy her comforts, a third that, disagreeable as it was
to help get dinner, it was harder still to go begging for
it and the fourth, that even carnelian rings were not so
valuable as good behavior. So they agreed to stop
complaining, to en
joy the blessings already possessed, and try to
deserve them, lest they should be taken away
entirely, instead of increased, and I believe they were
never disappointed or sorry that they took the old
woman’s advice.’
‘Now, Marmee, that is very cunning of you to turn
our own stories against us, and give us a sermon
instead of a ro mance!’ cried Meg. ‘I like that kind of
sermon. It’s the sort Father used to tell us,’ said Beth
thoughtfully, putting the needles straight on Jo’s
cushion.
‘I don’t complain near as much as the others do,
and I shall be more careful than ever now, for I’ve had
warning from Susies’s downfall,’ said Amy morally.
‘We needed that lesson, and we won’t forget it. If
we do so, you just say to us, as old Chloe did in
UNCLE TOM,

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‘Tink ob yer marcies, chillen! ‘Tink ob yer marcies!’’
added Jo, who could not, for the life of her, help
getting a morsel of fun out of the little sermon, though
she took it to heart as much as any of them.
 64 Little Women

CHAPTER FIVE
‘What in the world are you going to do now, Jo.’ asked
Meg one snowy afternoon, as her sister came
tramping through the hall, in rubber boots, old sack,
and hood, with a broom in one hand and a shovel in
the other.
‘Going out for exercise,’ answered Jo with a
mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
‘I should think two long walks this morning would
have been enough! It’s cold and dull out, and I advise
you to stay warm and dry by the fire, as I do,’ said
Meg with a shiver.
‘Never take advice! Can’t keep still all day, and not
being a pussycat, I don’t like to doze by the fire. I like
adventures, and I’m going to find some.’
Meg went back to toast her feet and read
IVANHOE, and Jo began to dig paths with great
energy. The snow was light, and with her broom she
soon swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to
walk in when the sun came out and the invalid dolls
needed air. Now, the garden separated the Marches’
house from that of Mr. Laurence. Both stood in a
suburb of the city, which was still countrylike, with
groves and lawns, large gardens, and quiet streets. A
low hedge parted the two estates. On one side was
an old, brown house, looking rather bare and shabby,
robbed of the vines that in summer covered its walls
and the flowers, which then sur rounded it. On the
other side was a stately stone mansion,

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plainly betokening every sort of comfort and luxury,
from the big coach house and well-kept grounds to
the conserva tory and the glimpses of lovely things
one caught between the rich curtains.
Yet it seemed a lonely, lifeless sort of house, for no
chil dren frolicked on the lawn, no motherly face ever
smiled at the windows, and few people went in and
out, except the old gentleman and his grandson.
To Jo’s lively fancy, this fine house seemed a kind
of en chanted palace, full of splendors and delights
which no one enjoyed. She had long wanted to
behold these hidden glories, and to know the
Laurence boy, who looked as if he would like to be
known, if he only knew how to begin. Since the party,
she had been more eager than ever, and had planned
many ways of making friends with him, but he had not
been seen lately, and Jo began to think he had gone
away, when she one day spied a brown face at an
upper window, looking wistfully down into their
garden, where Beth and Amy were snow-balling one
another.
‘That boy is suffering for society and fun,’ she said
to her self. ‘His grandpa does not know what’s good
for him, and keeps him shut up all alone. He needs a
party of jolly boys to play with, or somebody young
and lively. I’ve a great mind to go over and tell the old
gentleman so!’
The idea amused Jo. who liked to do daring things
and was always scandalizing Meg by her queer
performances. The plan of ‘going over’ was not
forgotten. And when the snowy afternoon came, Jo
resolved to try what could be done. She saw Mr.
Lawrence drive off, and then sallied out

66 Little Women
to dig her way down to the hedge, where she paused
and took a survey. All quiet, curtains down at the
lower win dows, servants out of sight, and nothing
human visible but a curly black head leaning on a thin
hand at the upper win dow.
‘There he is,’ thought Jo, ‘Poor boy! All alone and
sick this dismal day. It’s a shame! I’ll toss up a
snowball and make him look out, and then say a kind
word to him.’
Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head
turned at once, showing a face which lost its listless
look in a minute, as the big eyes brightened and the
mouth began to smile. Jo nodded and laughed, and
flourished her broom as she called out...
‘How do you do? Are you sick?’
Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as
hoarsely as a raven...
‘Better, thank you. I’ve had a bad cold, and been
shut up a week.’
‘I’m sorry. What do you amuse yourself
with?’ ‘Nothing. It’s dull as tombs up
here.’
‘Don’t you read?’
‘Not much. They won’t let me.’
 ‘Can’t somebody read to you?’
‘Grandpa does sometimes, but my books don’t
interest him, and I hate to ask Brooke all the time.’
‘Have someone come and see you then.’
‘There isn’t anyone I’d like to see. Boys make such
a row, and my head is weak.’
‘Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse

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Girls are quiet and like to play nurse.’

‘Don’t know any.’
‘You know us,’ began Jo, then laughed and
stopped. ‘So I do! Will you come, please?’ cried
Laurie. ‘I’m not quiet and nice, but I’ll come, if
Mother will let
me. I’ll go ask her. Shut the window, like a good boy,
and wait till I come.’
With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched
into the house, wondering what they would all say to
her. Laurie was in a flutter of excitement at the idea of
having company, and flew about to get ready, for as
Mrs. March said, he was ‘a little gentleman’. and did
honor to the coming guest by brushing his curly pate,
putting on a fresh color, and trying tidy up the room,
which in spite of half a dozen servants, was anything
but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, than a
decided voice, asking for ‘Mr. laurie’, and a
surprisedlook ing servant came running up to
announce a young lady.
 ‘All right, show her up, it’s Miss Jo, ‘said Laurie,
going to the door of his little parlor to meet Jo, who
appeared, look ing rosy and quite at her ease, with a
covered dish in one hand and Beth’s three kittens in
the other.
‘Here I am, bag and baggage,’ she said briskly.
‘Mother sent her love, and was glad if I could do
anything for you. Meg wanted me to bring some of
her blancmange, she makes it very nicely, and Beth
thought her cats would be comfort
ing. I knew you’d laugh at them, but I couldn’t refuse,
she was so anxious to do something.’
It so happened that Beth’s funny loan was just the
thing, for in laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his
bashfulness,

68 Little Women
and grew sociable at once.
‘That looks too pretty to eat,’ he said, smiling with
plea sure, as Jo uncovered the dish, and showed the
blancmange, surrounded by a garland of green
leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy’s pet
geranium.
‘It isn’t anything, only they all felt kindly and wanted
to show it. Tell the girl to put it away for your tea. It’s
so simple you can eat it, and being soft, it will slip
down without hurt ing your sore throat. What a cozy
room this is!’
‘It might be it it was kept nice, but the maids are
lazy, and I don’t know how to make them mind. It
worries me though.’
 ‘I’ll right it up in two minutes, for it only needs to
have the hearth brushed, so—and the things made
straight on the mantelpiece, so—and the books put
here, and the bottles there, and your sofa turned from
the light, and the pillows plumped up a bit. Now then,
you’re fixed.’
And so he was, for, as she laughed and talked, Jo
had whisked things into place and given quite a
different air to the room. Laurie watched her in
respectful silence, and when she beckoned him to his
sofa, he sat down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying
gratefully...
‘How kind you are! Yes, that’s what it wanted. Now
please take the big chair and let me do something to
amuse my company.’
‘No, I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?’ and
Jo looked affectionately toward some inviting books
near by. ‘Thank you! I’ve read all those, and if you
don’t mind, I’d rather talk,’ answered Laurie.

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‘Not a bit. I’ll talk all day if you’ll only set me going.
Beth says I never know when to stop.’
‘Is Beth the rosy one, who stays at home good deal
and sometimes goes out with a little basket?’ asked
Laurie with interest.
‘Yes, that’s Beth. She’s my girl, and a regular good
one she is, too.’
‘The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is
Amy, I believe?’
Laurie colored up, but answered frankly, ‘Why, you
see I often hear you calling to one another, and when
I’m alone up here, I can’t help looking over at your
house, you always seem to be having such good
times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, but
sometimes you forget to put down the curtain at the
window where the flowers are. And when the lamps
are lighted, it’s like looking at a picture to see the fire,
and you all around the table with your mother. Her
face is right opposite, and it looks so sweet behind
the flowers, I can’t help watching it. I haven’t got any
mother, you know.’ And Laurie poked the fire to hide a
little twitching of the lips that he could not control.
The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to
Jo’s warm heart. she had been so simply taught that
there was no nonsense in her head, and at fifteen she
was as innocent and frank as any child. Laurie was
sick and lonely, and feeling how rich she was in home
and happiness, she gladly tried to share it with him.
Her face was very friendly and her sharp voice
unusually gentle as she said...
‘We’ll never draw that curtain any more, and I give

you 70 Little Women

leave to look as much as you like. I just wish, though,

in stead of peeping, you’d come over and see us.
Mother is so splendid, she’d do you heaps of good,
and Beth would sing to you if I begged her to, and
Amy would dance. Meg and I would make you laugh
over our funny stage properties, and
we’d have jolly times. Wouldn’t your grandpa let you?’
‘I think he would, if your mother asked him. He’s very
kind, though he does not look so, and he lets me do
what I like, pretty much, only he’s afraid I might be a
bother to strangers,’ began Laurie, brightening more
and more. ‘We are not strangers, we are neighbors,
and you needn’t think you’d be a bother. We want to
know you, and I’ve been trying to do it this ever so
long. We haven’t been here a great while, you know,
but we have got acquainted with all our neighbors but
you.’
‘You see, Grandpa lives among his books, and
doesn’t mind much what happens outside. Mr.
Brooke, my tutor, doesn’t stay here, you know, and I
have no one to go about with me, so I just stop at
home and get on as I can.’
‘That’s bad. You ought to make an effort and go
visiting everywhere you are asked, then you’ll have
plenty of friends, and pleasant places to go to. Never
mind being bashful. It won’t last long if you keep
going.’
Laurie turned red again, but wasn’t offended at
being ac cused of bashfulness, for there was so much
good will in Jo it was impossible not to take her blunt
speeches as kindly as they were meant.
‘Do you like your school?’ asked the boy, changing
the subject, after a little pause, during which he
stared at the fire

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and Jo looked about her, well pleased.
 ‘Don’t go to school, I’m a businessman—girl, I
mean. I go to wait on my great-aunt, and a dear,
cross old soul she is, too,’ answered Jo.
Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question,
but remembering just in time that it wasn’t manners to
make too many inquiries into people’s affairs, he shut
it again, and looked uncomfortable.
Jo liked his good breeding, and didn’t mind having
a laugh at Aunt March, so she gave him a lively
description of the fidgety old lady, her fat poodle, the
parrot that talked Spanish, and the library where she
reveled.
Laurie enjoyed that immensely, and when she told
about the prim old gentleman who came once to woo
Aunt March, and in the middle of a fine speech, how
Poll had tweaked his wig off to his great dismay, the
boy lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his
cheeks, and a maid popped her head in to see what
was the matter.
‘Oh! That does me no end of good. Tell on, please,’
he said, taking his face out of the sofa cushion, red
and shining with merriment.
Much elated with her success, Jo did ‘tell on’, all
about their plays and plans, their hopes and fears for
Father, and the most interesting events of the little
world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to
talking about books, and to Jo’s delight, she found
that Laurie loved them as well as she did, and had
read even more than herself.
‘If you like them so much, come down and see
ours. Grandfather is out, so you needn’t be afraid,’
said Laurie,

72 Little Women
getting up.
‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ returned Jo, with a toss
of the head.
‘I don’t believe you are!’ exclaimed the boy, looking
at her with much admiration, though he privately
thought she would have good reason to be a trifle
afraid of the old gen tleman, if she met hem in some of
his moods.
The atmosphere of the whole house being
summerlike, Laurie led the way from room to room,
letting Jo stop to ex amine whatever struck her fancy.
And so, at last they came to the library, where she
clapped her hands and pranced, as she always did
when especially delighted. It was lined with books,
and there were pictures and statues, and distracting
little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and Sleepy
Hol low chairs, and queer tables, and bronzes, and
best of all, a great open fireplace with quaint tiles all
round it.
‘What richness!’ sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of
a velour chair and gazing about her with an air of
intense sat isfaction. ‘Theodore Laurence, you ought
to be the happiest boy in the world,’ she added
impressively.
‘A fellow can’t live on books,’ said Laurie, shaking
his head as he perched on a table opposite.
Before he could more, a bell rang, and Jo flew up,
ex claiming with alarm, ‘Mercy me! It’s your grandpa!’
‘Well, what if it is? You are not afraid of anything, you
know,’ returned the boy, looking wicked.
‘I think I am a little bit afraid of him, but I don’t know
why I should be. Marmee said I might come, and I
don’t think you’re any the worse for it,’ said Jo,
composing herself,

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though she kept her eyes on the door.
‘I’m a great deal better for it, and ever so much
obliged. I’m only afraid you are very tired of talking to
me. It was so pleasant, I couldn’t bear to stop,’ said
Laurie gratefully.
‘The doctor to see you, sir,’ and the maid beckoned
as she spoke.
‘Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I
suppose I must see him,’ said Laurie.
‘Don’t mind me. I’m happy as a cricket here,’
answered Jo.
Laurie went away, and his guest amused herself in her
own way. She was standing before a fine portrait of
the old gentleman when the door opened again, and
without turn ing, she said decidedly, ‘I’m sure now that
I shouldn’t be afraid of him, for he’s got kind eyes,
though his mouth is grim, and he looks as if he had a
tremendous will of his own. He isn’t as handsome as
my grandfather, but I like him.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said a gruff voice behind her,
and there, to her great dismay, stood old Mr.
Laurence. Poor Jo blushed till she couldn’t blush any
redder, and her heart began to beat uncomfortably
fast as she thought what she had said. For a minute a
wild desire to run away possessed her, but that was
cowardly, and the girls would laugh at her, so she
resolved to stay and get out of the scrape as she
could. A second look showed her that the living eyes,
under the bushy eyebrows, were kinder even than the
paint ed ones, and there was a sly twinkle in them,
which lessened her fear a good deal. The gruff voice
was gruffer than ever, as the old gentleman said
abruptly, after the dreadful pause,

74 Little Women
‘So you’re not afraid of me, hey?’
‘Not much, sir.’
‘And you don’t think me as handsome as your
grandfa ther?’
‘Not quite, sir.’
‘And I’ve got a tremendous will, have I?’
‘I only said I thought so.’
‘But you like me in spite of it?’
‘Yes, I do, sir.’
That answer pleased the old gentleman. He gave a
short laugh, shook hands with her, and, putting his
finger under her chin, turned up her face, examined it
gravely, and let it go, saying with a nod, ‘You’ve got
your grandfather’s spirit, if you haven’t his face. He
was a fine man, my dear, but what is better, he was a
brave and an honest one, and I was proud to be his
friend.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ And Jo was quite comfortable after
that, for it suited her exactly.
‘What have you been doing to this boy of mine,
hey?’ was the next question, sharply put.
‘Only trying to be neighborly, sir.’ And Jo to how her
visit came about.
‘You think he needs cheering up a bit, do you?’
‘Yes, sir, he seems a little lonely, and young folks
would do him good perhaps. We are only girls, but we
should be glad to help if we could, for we don’t forget
the splendid Christmas present you sent us,’ said Jo
eagerly. ‘Tut, tut, tut! That was the boy’s affair. How is
the poor woman?’

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‘Doing nicely, sir.’ And off went Jo, talking very fast,
as she told all about the Hummels, in whom her
mother had interested richer friends than they were.
‘Just her father’s way of doing good. I shall come
and see your mother some fine day. Tell her so.
There’s the tea bell, we have it early on the boy’s
account. Come down and go on being neighborly.’
‘If you’d like to have me, sir.’
‘Shouldn’t ask you, if I didn’t.’ And Mr. Laurence
offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy.
‘What would Meg say to this?’ thought Jo, as she
was marched away, while her eyes danced with fun
as she imag ined herself telling the story at home.
‘Hey! Why, what the dickens has come to the
fellow?’ said the old gentleman, as Laurie came
running downstairs and brought up with a start of
surprise at the astounding sight of Jo arm in arm with
his redoubtable grandfather.
‘I didn’t know you’d come, sir,’ he began, as Jo
gave him a triumphant little glance.
‘That’s evident, by the way you racket downstairs.
Come to your tea, sir, and behave like a gentleman.’
And having pulled the boy’s hair by way of a caress,
Mr. Laurence walked on, while Laurie went through a
series of comic evolutions behind their backs, which
nearly produced an explosion of laughter from Jo.
The old gentleman did not say much as he drank his
four cups of tea, but he watched the young people,
who soon chatted away like old friends, and the
change in his grand son did not escape him. There
was color, light, and life in the

76 Little Women
boy’s face now, vivacity in his manner, and genuine
merri ment in his laugh.
‘She’s right, the lad is lonely. I’ll see what these little
girls can do for him,’ thought Mr. Laurence, as he
looked and lis tened. He liked Jo, for her odd, blunt
ways suited him, and she seemed to understand the
boy almost as well as if she had been one herself.
If the Laurences had been what Jo called ‘prim and
poky’, she would not have got on at all, for such
people always made her shy and awkward. But
finding them free and easy, she was so herself, and
made a good impression. When they rose she
proposed to go, but Laurie said he had something
more to show her, and took her away to the
conservato
ry, which had been lighted for her benefit. It seemed
quite fairylike to Jo, as she went up and down the
walks, enjoying the blooming walls on either side, the
soft light, the damp sweet air, and the wonderful vines
and trees that hung about her, while her new friend
cut the finest flowers till his hands were full. Then he
tied them up, saying, with the happy look Jo liked to
see, ‘Please give these to your mother, and tell her I
like the medicine she sent me very much.’
They found Mr. Laurence standing before the fire in
the great drawing room, by Jo’s attention was entirely
absorbed by a grand piano, which stood open.
‘Do you play?’ she asked, turning to Laurie with a
re spectful expression.
‘Sometimes,’ he answered modestly.
‘Please do now. I want to hear it, so I can tell
Beth.’ ‘Won’t you first?’

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‘Don’t know how. Too stupid to learn, but I love
music dearly.’
So Laurie played and Jo listened, with her nose
luxuri ously buried in heliotrope and tea roses. Her
respect and regard for the ‘Laurence’ boy increased
very much, for he played remarkably well and didn’t
put on any airs. She wished Beth could hear him, but
she did not say so, only praised him till he was quite
abashed, and his grandfather came to his rescue.
‘That will do, that will do, young lady. too many
sugar plums are not good for him. His music isn’t bad,
but I hope he will do as well in more important things.
Going? well, I’m much obliged to you, and I hope
you’ll come again. My respects to your mother. Good
night, Doctor Jo.’
He shook hands kindly, but looked as if something
did not please him. When they got into the hall, Jo
asked Laurie if she had said something amiss. He
shook his head.
‘No, it was me. He doesn’t like to hear me
play.’ ‘Why not?’
‘I’ll tell you some day. John is going home with you,
as I can’t.’ ‘No need of that. I am not a young lady,
and it’s only a step. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’
‘Yes, but you will come again, I hope?’
‘If you promise to come and see us after you
are well.’ ‘I will.’
‘Good night, Laurie!’ ‘Good night, Jo, good night!’
When all the afternoon’s adventures had been told,
the family felt inclined to go visiting in a body, for each
found something very attractive in the big house on
the other side

78 Little Women
of the hedge. Mrs. March wanted to talk of her father
with the old man who had not forgotten him, Meg
longed to walk in the conservatory, Beth sighed for
the grand piano. and Amy was eager to see the fine
pictures and statues.
‘Mother, why didn’t Mr. Laurence like to have Laurie
play?’ asked Jo, who was of an inquiring disposition. ‘I
am not sure, but I think it was because his son,
Laurie’s father, married an Italian lady, a musician,
which displeased the old man, who is very proud. The
lady was good and love ly and accomplished, but he
did not like her, and never saw his son after he
married. They both died when Laurie was a little child,
and then his grandfather took him home. I fancy the
boy, who was born in Italy, is not very strong, and the
old man is afraid of losing him, which makes him so
careful. Laurie comes naturally by his love of music,
for he is like his mother, and I dare say his
grandfather fears that he may want to be a musician.
At any rate, his skill reminds him of the woman he did
not like, and so he ‘glowered’ as Jo said.’
‘Dear me, how romantic!’ exclaimed Meg.
‘How silly!’ said Jo. ‘Let him be a musician if he
wants to, and not plague his life out sending him to
college, when he hates to go.’
‘That’s why he has such handsome black eyes and
pretty manners, I suppose. Italians are always nice,’
said Meg, who was a little sentimental.
‘What do you know about his eyes and his
manners? You never spoke to him, hardly,’ cried Jo,
who was not sentimen tal.

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‘I saw him at the party, and what you tell shows that
he knows how to behave. That was a nice little
speech about the medicine Mother sent him.’
‘He meant the blanc mange, I suppose.’ ‘How
stupid you are, child! He meant you, of course.’
‘Did he?’ And Jo opened her eyes as if it had
never oc curred to her before.
 ‘I never saw such a girl! You don’t know a
compliment when you get it,’ said Meg, with the air of
a young lady who knew all about the matter.
‘I think they are great nonsense, and I’ll thank you
not to be silly and spoil my fun. Laurie’s a nice boy
and I like him, and I won’t have any sentimental stuff
about compliments and such rubbish. We’ll all be
good to him because he hasn’t got any mother, and
he may come over and see us, mayn’t he, Marmee?’
‘Yes, Jo, your little friend is very welcome, and I
hope Meg will remember that children should be
children as long as they can.’
‘I don’t call myself a child, and I’m not in my teens
yet,’ observed Amy. ‘What do you say, Beth?’
‘I was thinking about our ‘PILGRIM’S
PROGRESS’,’ an swered Beth, who had not heard a
word. ‘How we got out of the Slough and through the
Wicket Gate by resolving to be good, and up the
steep hill by trying, and that maybe the house over
there, full of splendid things, is going to be our Palace
Beautiful.’
‘We have got to get by the lions first,’ said Jo, as if
she rather liked the prospect.

80 Little Women