«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 pretty things, and other girls nothing at
all,” added little Amy, with an injured sniff.“We’ve got Father and Mother and each
other,” said Beth contentedly from her corner.The four young faces on which the
firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly,
“We haven’t got Father, and shall not have him for a long time.” She didn’t say
“perhaps never,” but each silently added it, thinking of Father far away, where the
fighting was.»
«Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, “You know the reason
Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be
a hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure,
when our men are suffering so in the army. We can’t do much, but we can make our
little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don’t.” And Meg shook her
head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.“But I don’t think
the little we should spend would do any good. We’ve each got a dollar, and the army
wouldn’t be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from
Mother or you, but I do want to buy Undine and Sintram[1] 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’re ready to fly out of the window or cry?”“It’s naughty to fret, but
I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. It
makes me cross, and my hands get so stiff, I can’t practice well at all.” And Beth
looked at her rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.“I don’t
believe any of you suffer as I do,” cried Amy, “for you don’t have to go to school with
«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 vocabilary,” returned Amy, with
dignity.“Don’t peck at one another, children. Don’t you wish we had the money Papa
lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! how happy and good we’d be, if we had no
worries!” said Meg, who could remember better times.“You said the other day you
thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and
fretting all the time, in spite of their money.”“So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are; for,
though we do have to work, we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo
would say.»
«Jo does use such slang words!” observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long
figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and
began to whistle.“Don’t, Jo, it’s so boyish!”“That’s why I do it.”“I detest rude,
unladylike girls!”“I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!”“‘Birds in their little nests
agree,’ ” sang Beth, the peacemaker, with such a funny face that both sharp voices
softened to a laugh, and the “pecking” ended for that time.“Really, girls, you are both
to be blamed,” said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. “You are
old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It didn’t matter
so much when you were a little girl; but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you
should remember that you are a young lady.”“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 «and look as prim as a China aster! It’s bad
enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys’ games and work and manners! I can’t
get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it’s worse than ever now, for I’m
dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old
woman!” And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and
her ball bounded across the room.»
«Poor Jo! It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped. So you must try to be contented with
making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls,” said Beth, stroking the
rough head at her knee with a hand that all the dishwashing and dusting in the world
could not make ungentle in its touch.“As for you, Amy,” continued Meg, “you are
altogether too particular and prim. Your airs are funny now, but you’ll grow up an
affected little goose, if you don’t take care. I like your nice manners and refined ways
of speaking, when you don’t try to be elegant. But your absurd words are as bad as
Jo’s slang.”“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 old room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain; for a
good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and
Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant 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. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded
one of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which
were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray
eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful.
Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out
of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes,
and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman
and didn’t like it.»«Elizabeth—or Beth, as everyone called her—was a rosy,
smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a
peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her “Little
Tranquillity,” and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy
world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved.
Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person—in her own opinion at least.
A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale
and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners.
What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.»
«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 Mother while he was
gone.»
«I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Beth, “let’s each get her something for Christmas,
and not get anything for ourselves.”“That’s like you, dear! What will we get?”
exclaimed Jo.Everyone thought soberly for a minute, then Meg announced, as if the
idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, “I shall give her a nice pair
of gloves.”“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.