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.
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Men:
Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys
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Title: Little Men: Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys

Author: Louisa May Alcott

Illustrator: Reginald Bathurst Birch

Release date: August 26, 2016 [eBook #52900]

Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file
was
produced from images generously made available by
The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE MEN: LIFE

AT PLUMFIELD WITH JO'S BOYS ***
The good Professor and his wife were taken prisoner by
many arms. See page 354. Frontispiece.

ORCHARD HOUSE EDITION

 Little Men

Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys

A Sequel to “Little Women”

By
Louisa M. Alcott

With Illustrations in Color by

Reginald Birch

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY

BOSTON 1934

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

Louisa M. Alcott,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
Copyright, 1899, 1913,
By John S. P. Alcott.
Copyright, 1901,
By Little, Brown, and Company.
 All rights reserved

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TO
FREDDY AND JOHNNY
The Little Men
TO WHOM SHE OWES SOME OF THE BEST AND HAPPIEST
HOURS OF HER LIFE,
THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED
BY THEIR LOVING
“AUNT WEEDY.”
 Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Nat 1
II. The Boys 18
III. Sunday 28
IV. Stepping-Stones 49
V. Patty Pans 62
VI. A Fire Brand 84
VII. Naughty Nan 106
VIII. Pranks and Plays 118
IX. Daisy’s Ball 131
X. Home Again 145
XI. Uncle Teddy 164
XII. Huckleberries 180
XIII. Goldilocks 206
XIV. Damon and Pythias 216
XV. In the Willow 239
XVI. Taming the Colt 259
XVII. Composition Day 271
XVIII. Crops 286
XIX. John Brooke 297
XX. Round the Fire 312
XXI. Thanksgiving 336
 Illustrations
The good Professor and his wife were taken Frontispiece
prisoner by many arms
Miss Smith accompanied herself with a vigor 136
which made the old desk rattle
All were glad to gather round the hearth, as 312
the evenings grew longer

Little Men
Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys
 CHAPTER I
NAT

“Please, sir, is this Plumfield?” asked a ragged boy of the man who
opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.
“Yes; who sent you?”
“Mr. Laurence. I have got a letter for the lady.”
“All right; go up to the house, and give it to her; she’ll see to you,
little chap.”
The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much
cheered by the words. Through the soft spring rain that fell on
sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house
before him,—a hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned
porch, wide steps, and lights shining in many windows. Neither
curtains nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer; and, pausing a
moment before he rang, Nat saw many little shadows dancing on
the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young voices, and felt that it
was hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within
could be for a homeless “little chap” like him.
“I hope the lady will see to me,” he thought; and gave a timid rap
with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin’s head.
A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she
took the letter which he silently offered. She seemed used to
receiving strange boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and
said, with a nod,—
“Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis.”
Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about
him curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the
dusky recess by the door.
The house seemed swarming with boys, who were beguiling the
rainy twilight with all sorts of amusements. There were boys
everywhere, “up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady’s chamber,”
apparently, for various open doors showed pleasant groups of big
boys, little boys, and middle-sized boys in all stages of evening
relaxation, not to say effervescence. Two large rooms on the right
were evidently school-rooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and
books were scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and
several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new
cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the air.
A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite
undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or three others were
jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath,
and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing
the whole household on a blackboard.
In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth
with great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and
perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A
flavor of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very
tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.
The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for
a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing
was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were
occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing lullaby to her doll, two
puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding
down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes, and
danger to their limbs.
So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting race, that he ventured
farther and farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy
came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself, but fell off the
banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one
rendered nearly as hard as a cannon-ball by eleven years of constant
bumping, Nat forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen rider, expecting
to find him half-dead. The boy, however, only winked rapidly for a
second, then lay calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised
“Hullo!”
“Hullo!” returned Nat, not knowing what else to say, and thinking
that form of reply both brief and easy.
“Are you a new boy?” asked the recumbent youth, without stirring.
“Don’t know yet.”
“What’s your name?”
“Nat Blake.”
“Mine’s Tommy Bangs; come up and have a go, will you?” and
Tommy got upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties
of hospitality.
“Guess I won’t, till I see whether I’m going to stay or not,”
returned Nat, feeling the desire to stay increase every moment.
“I say, Demi, here’s a new one. Come and see to him;” and the
lively Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.
At his call, the boy reading on the stairs looked up with a pair of
big brown eyes, and after an instant’s pause, as if a little shy, he put
the book under his arm, and came soberly down to greet the new-
comer, who found something very attractive in the pleasant face of
this slender, mild-eyed boy.
“Have you seen Aunt Jo?” he asked, as if that was some sort of
important ceremony.
“I haven’t seen anybody yet but you boys; I’m waiting,” answered
Nat.
“Did Uncle Laurie send you?” proceeded Demi, politely, but
gravely.
“Mr. Laurence did.”
“He is Uncle Laurie; and he always sends nice boys.”
 Nat looked gratified at the remark, and smiled, in a way that made
his thin face very pleasant. He did not know what to say next, so the
two stood staring at one another in friendly silence, till the little girl
came up with her doll in her arms. She was very like Demi, only not
so tall, and had a rounder, rosier face, and blue eyes.
“This is my sister Daisy,” announced Demi, as if presenting a rare
and precious creature.
The children nodded to one another; and the little girl’s face
dimpled with pleasure, as she said, affably,—
“I hope you’ll stay. We have such good times here; don’t we,
Demi?”
“Of course, we do; that’s what Aunt Jo has Plumfield for.”
“It seems a very nice place indeed,” observed Nat, feeling that he
must respond to these amiable young persons.
“It’s the nicest place in the world; isn’t it, Demi?” said Daisy, who
evidently regarded her brother as authority on all subjects.
“No; I think Greenland, where the icebergs and seals are, is more
interesting. But I’m fond of Plumfield, and it is a very nice place to
be in,” returned Demi, who was interested just now in a book on
Greenland. He was about to offer to show Nat the pictures and
explain them, when the servant returned, saying, with a nod toward
the parlor-door,—
“All right; you are to stop.”
“I’m glad; now come to Aunt Jo.” And Daisy took him by the hand
with a pretty protecting air, which made Nat feel at home at once.
Demi returned to his beloved book, while his sister led the new-
comer into a back room, where a stout gentleman was frolicking
with two little boys on the sofa, and a thin lady was just finishing the
letter which she seemed to have been re-reading.
“Here he is, Aunty!” cried Daisy.
 “So this is my new boy? I am glad to see you, my dear, and hope
you’ll be happy here,” said the lady, drawing him to her, and stroking
back the hair from his forehead with a kind hand and a motherly
look, which made Nat’s lonely little heart yearn toward her.
She was not at all handsome, but she had a merry sort of face,
that never seemed to have forgotten certain childish ways and looks,
any more than her voice and manner had; and these things, hard to
describe but very plain to see and feel, made her a genial,
comfortable kind of person, easy to get on with, and generally “jolly,”
as boys would say. She saw the little tremble of Nat’s lips as she
smoothed his hair, and her keen eyes grew softer, but she only drew
the shabby figure nearer and said, laughing,—
“I am Mother Bhaer, that gentleman is Father Bhaer, and these are
the two little Bhaers.—Come here, boys, and see Nat.”
The three wrestlers obeyed at once; and the stout man, with a
chubby child on each shoulder, came up to welcome the new boy.
Rob and Teddy merely grinned at him, but Mr. Bhaer shook hands,
and pointing to a low chair near the fire, said, in a cordial voice,—
“There is a place all ready for thee, my son; sit down and dry thy
wet feet at once.”
“Wet? so they are! My dear, off with your shoes this minute, and
I’ll have some dry things ready for you in a jiffy,” cried Mrs. Bhaer,
bustling about so energetically, that Nat found himself in the cosy
little chair, with dry socks and warm slippers on his feet, before he
would have had time to say Jack Robinson, if he had wanted to try.
He said “Thank you, ma’am,” instead; and said it so gratefully, that
Mrs. Bhaer’s eyes grew soft again, and she said something merry,
because she felt so tender, which was a way she had.
“These are Tommy Bangs’ slippers; but he never will remember to
put them on in the house; so he shall not have them. They are too
big; but that’s all the better; you can’t run away from us so fast as if
they fitted.”
 “I don’t want to run away, ma’am.” And Nat spread his grimy little
hands before the comfortable blaze, with a long sigh of satisfaction.
“That’s good! Now I am going to toast you well, and try to get rid
of that ugly cough. How long have you had it, dear?” asked Mrs.
Bhaer, as she rummaged in her big basket for a strip of flannel.
“All winter. I got cold, and it wouldn’t get better, somehow.”
“No wonder, living in that damp cellar with hardly a rag to his poor
dear back!” said Mrs. Bhaer, in a low tone to her husband, who was
looking at the boy with a skilful pair of eyes, that marked the thin
temples and feverish lips, as well as the hoarse voice and frequent
fits of coughing that shook the bent shoulders under the patched
jacket.
“Robin, my man, trot up to Nursey, and tell her to give thee the
cough-bottle and the liniment,” said Mr. Bhaer, after his eyes had
exchanged telegrams with his wife’s.
Nat looked a little anxious at the preparations, but forgot his fears,
in a hearty laugh, when Mrs. Bhaer whispered to him, with a droll
look,—
“Hear my rogue Teddy try to cough. The syrup I’m going to give
you has honey in it; and he wants some.”
Little Ted was red in the face with his exertions by the time the
bottle came, and was allowed to suck the spoon, after Nat had
manfully taken a dose, and had the bit of flannel put about his
throat.
These first steps toward a cure were hardly completed, when a
great bell rang, and a loud tramping through the hall announced
supper. Bashful Nat quaked at the thought of meeting many strange
boys, but Mrs. Bhaer held out her hand to him, and Rob said,
patronizingly, “Don’t be ’fraid; I’ll take care of you.”
Twelve boys, six on a side, stood behind their chairs, prancing
with impatience to begin, while the tall flute-playing youth was
trying to curb their ardor. But no one sat down, till Mrs. Bhaer was in
her place behind the teapot, with Teddy on her left, and Nat on her
right.
“This is our new boy, Nat Blake. After supper you can say, How do
you do? Gently, boys, gently.”
As she spoke every one stared at Nat, and then whisked into their
seats, trying to be orderly, and failing utterly. The Bhaers did their
best to have the lads behave well at meal times, and generally
succeeded pretty well, for their rules were few and sensible, and the
boys, knowing that they tried to make things easy and happy, did
their best to obey. But there are times when hungry boys cannot be
repressed without real cruelty, and Saturday evening, after a half-
holiday, was one of those times.
“Dear little souls, do let them have one day in which they can
howl and racket and frolic, to their hearts’ content. A holiday isn’t a
holiday, without plenty of freedom and fun; and they shall have full
swing once a week,” Mrs. Bhaer used to say, when prim people
wondered why banister-sliding, pillow-fights, and all manner of jovial
games were allowed under the once decorous roof of Plumfield.
It did seem at times as if the aforesaid roof was in danger of flying
off; but it never did, for a word from Father Bhaer could at any time
produce a lull, and the lads had learned that liberty must not be
abused. So, in spite of many dark predictions, the school flourished,
and manners and morals were insinuated, without the pupils exactly
knowing how it was done.
Nat found himself very well off behind the tall pitchers, with
Tommy Bangs just round the corner, and Mrs. Bhaer close by, to fill
up plate and mug as fast as he could empty them.
“Who is that boy next the girl down at the other end?” whispered
Nat to his young neighbor under cover of a general laugh.
“That’s Demi Brooke. Mr. Bhaer is his uncle.”
“What a queer name!”
 “His real name is John, but they call him Demi-John, because his
father is John too. That’s a joke, don’t you see?” said Tommy, kindly
explaining. Nat did not see, but politely smiled, and asked, with
interest,—
“Isn’t he a very nice boy?”
“I bet you he is; knows lots and reads like any thing.”
“Who is the fat one next him?”
“Oh, that’s Stuffy Cole. His name is George, but we call him Stuffy
’cause he eats so much. The little fellow next Father Bhaer is his boy
Rob, and then there’s big Franz his nephew; he teaches some, and
kind of sees to us.”
“He plays the flute, doesn’t he?” asked Nat as Tommy rendered
himself speechless by putting a whole baked apple into his mouth at
one blow.
Tommy nodded, and said, sooner than one would have imagined
possible under the circumstances, “Oh, don’t he, though? and we
dance sometimes, and do gymnastics to music. I like a drum myself,
and mean to learn as soon as ever I can.”
“I like a fiddle best; I can play one too,” said Nat, getting
confidential on this attractive subject.
“Can you?” and Tommy stared over the rim of his mug with round
eyes, full of interest. “Mr. Bhaer’s got an old fiddle, and he’ll let you
play on it if you want to.”
“Could I? Oh, I would like it ever so much. You see I used to go
round fiddling with my father, and another man, till he died.”
“Wasn’t that fun?” cried Tommy, much impressed.
“No, it was horrid; so cold in winter, and hot in summer. And I got
tired; and they were cross sometimes; and I didn’t have enough to
eat.” Nat paused to take a generous bite of gingerbread, as if to
assure himself that the hard times were over; and then he added
regretfully,—“But I did love my little fiddle, and I miss it. Nicolo took
it away when father died, and wouldn’t have me any longer, ’cause I
was sick.”
“You’ll belong to the band if you play good. See if you don’t.”
“Do you have a band here?” And Nat’s eyes sparkled.
“Guess we do; a jolly band, all boys; and they have concerts and
things. You just see what happens to-morrow night.”
After this pleasantly exciting remark, Tommy returned to his
supper, and Nat sank into a blissful reverie over his full plate.
Mrs. Bhaer had heard all they said, while apparently absorbed in
filling mugs, and overseeing little Ted, who was so sleepy that he put
his spoon in his eye, nodded like a rosy poppy, and finally fell fast
asleep, with his cheek pillowed on a soft bun. Mrs. Bhaer had put
Nat next to Tommy, because that roly-poly boy had a frank and
social way with him, very attractive to shy persons. Nat felt this, and
had made several small confidences during supper, which gave Mrs.
Bhaer the key to the new boy’s character, better than if she had
talked to him herself.
In the letter which Mr. Laurence had sent with Nat, he had said—
“Dear Jo,—Here is a case after your own heart. This
poor lad is an orphan now, sick and friendless. He has
been a street-musician; and I found him in a cellar,
mourning for his dead father, and his lost violin. I think
there is something in him, and have a fancy that
between us we may give this little man a lift. You cure
his over-tasked body, Fritz help his neglected mind,
and when he is ready I’ll see if he is a genius or only a
boy with a talent which may earn his bread for him.
Give him a trial, for the sake of your own boy,
“Teddy.”
“Of course we will!” cried Mrs. Bhaer, as she read the letter; and
when she saw Nat, she felt at once that whether he was a genius or
not, here was a lonely, sick boy, who needed just what she loved to
give, a home, and motherly care. Both she and Mr. Bhaer observed
him quietly; and in spite of ragged clothes, awkward manners, and a
dirty face, they saw much about Nat that pleased them. He was a
thin, pale boy, of twelve, with blue eyes, and a good forehead under
the rough, neglected hair; an anxious, scared face, at times, as if he
expected hard words, or blows; and a sensitive mouth, that
trembled when a kind glance fell on him; while a gentle speech
called up a look of gratitude, very sweet to see. “Bless the poor dear,
he shall fiddle all day long if he likes,” said Mrs. Bhaer to herself, as
she saw the eager, happy expression on his face when Tommy talked
of the band.
So, after supper, when the lads flocked into the school-room for
more “high jinks,” Mrs. Jo appeared with a violin in her hand, and
after a word with her husband, went to Nat, who sat in a corner
watching the scene with intense interest.
“Now, my lad, give us a little tune. We want a violin in our band,
and I think you will do it nicely.”
She expected that he would hesitate; but he seized the old fiddle
at once, and handled it with such loving care, it was plain to see that
music was his passion.
“I’ll do the best I can, ma’am,” was all he said; and then drew the
bow across the strings, as if eager to hear the dear notes again.
There was a great clatter in the room, but as if deaf to any sounds
but those he made, Nat played softly to himself, forgetting every
thing in his delight. It was only a simple negro melody, such as
street-musicians play, but it caught the ears of the boys at once, and
silenced them, till they stood listening with surprise and pleasure.
Gradually they got nearer and nearer, and Mr. Bhaer came up to
watch the boy; for, as if he was in his element now, Nat played away
and never minded any one, while his eyes shone, his cheeks
reddened, and his thin fingers flew, as he hugged the old fiddle and
made it speak to all their hearts the language that he loved.
 A hearty round of applause rewarded him better than a shower of
pennies, when he stopped and glanced about him, as if to say—
“I’ve done my best; please like it.”
“I say, you do that first rate,” cried Tommy, who considered Nat
his protégé.
“You shall be first fiddle in my band,” added Franz, with an
approving smile.
Mrs. Bhaer whispered to her husband—
“Teddy is right: there’s something in the child.” And Mr. Bhaer
nodded his head emphatically, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder,
saying, heartily—
“You play well, my son. Come now and play something which we
can sing.”
It was the proudest, happiest minute of the poor boy’s life when
he was led to the place of honor by the piano, and the lads gathered
round, never heeding his poor clothes, but eying him respectfully,
and waiting eagerly to hear him play again.
They chose a song he knew; and after one or two false starts they
got going, and violin, flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish voices
that made the old roof ring again. It was too much for Nat, more
feeble than he knew; and as the final shout died away, his face
began to work, he dropped the fiddle, and turning to the wall,
sobbed like a little child.
“My dear, what is it?” asked Mrs. Bhaer, who had been singing
with all her might, and trying to keep little Rob from beating time
with his boots.
“You are all so kind—and it’s so beautiful—I can’t help it,” sobbed
Nat, coughing till he was breathless.
“Come with me, dear; you must go to bed and rest; you are worn
out, and this is too noisy a place for you,” whispered Mrs. Bhaer; and
took him away to her own parlor, where she let him cry himself
quiet.
Then she won him to tell her all his troubles, and listened to the
little story with tears in her own eyes, though it was not a new one
to her.
“My child, you have got a father and a mother now, and this is
home. Don’t think of those sad times any more, but get well and
happy; and be sure you shall never suffer again, if we can help it.
This place is made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in, and
to learn how to help themselves and be useful men, I hope. You
shall have as much music as you want, only you must get strong
first. Now come up to Nursey and have a bath, and then go to bed,
and to-morrow we will lay some nice little plans together.”
Nat held her hand fast in his, but had not a word to say, and let
his grateful eyes speak for him, as Mrs. Bhaer led him up to a big
room, where they found a stout German woman with a face so
round and cheery, that it looked like a sort of sun, with the wide frill
of her cap for rays.
“This is Nursey Hummel, and she will give you a nice bath, and cut
your hair, and make you all ‘comfy,’ as Rob says. That’s the bath-
room in there; and on Saturday nights we scrub all the little lads
first, and pack them away in bed before the big ones get through
singing. Now then, Rob, in with you.”
As she talked, Mrs. Bhaer had whipped off Rob’s clothes and
popped him into a long bath-tub in the little room opening into the
nursery.
There were two tubs, besides foot-baths, basins, douche-pipes,
and all manner of contrivances for cleanliness. Nat was soon
luxuriating in the other bath; and while simmering there, he watched
the performances of the two women, who scrubbed, clean night-
gowned, and bundled into bed four or five small boys, who, of
course, cut up all sorts of capers during the operation, and kept
every one in a gale of merriment till they were extinguished in their
beds.
By the time Nat was washed and done up in a blanket by the fire,
while Nursey cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived and
were shut into the bath-room, where they made as much splashing
and noise as a school of young whales at play.
“Nat had better sleep here, so that if his cough troubles him in the
night you can see that he takes a good draught of flax-seed tea,”
said Mrs. Bhaer, who was flying about like a distracted hen with a
large brood of lively ducklings.
Nursey approved the plan, finished Nat off with a flannel night-
gown, a drink of something warm and sweet, and then tucked him
into one of the three little beds standing in the room, where he lay
looking like a contented mummy, and feeling that nothing more in
the way of luxury could be offered him. Cleanliness in itself was a
new and delightful sensation; flannel gowns were unknown comforts
in his world; sips of “good stuff” soothed his cough as pleasantly as
kind words did his lonely heart; and the feeling that somebody cared
for him made that plain room seem a sort of heaven to the homeless
child. It was like a cozy dream; and he often shut his eyes to see if it
would not vanish when he opened them again. It was too pleasant
to let him sleep, and he could not have done so if he had tried, for in
a few minutes one of the peculiar institutions of Plumfield was
revealed to his astonished but appreciative eyes.
A momentary lull in the aquatic exercises was followed by the
sudden appearance of pillows flying in all directions, hurled by white
goblins, who came rioting out of their beds. The battle raged in
several rooms, all down the upper hall, and even surged at intervals
into the nursery, when some hard-pressed warrior took refuge there.
No one seemed to mind this explosion in the least; no one forbade
it, or even looked surprised. Nursey went on hanging up towels, and
Mrs. Bhaer looked out clean clothes, as calmly as if the most perfect
order reigned. Nay, she even chased one daring boy out of the
room, and fired after him the pillow he had slyly thrown at her.