Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo's Boys
passion when I set you such a bad example? Forgive me, dear, and let us
try to help one another in a better way.' I never forgot it, and it did
me more good than a dozen rods.”
Nan sat thoughtfully turning the little cold-cream jar for a minute, and
Mrs. Jo said nothing, but let that idea get well into the busy little
mind that was so quick to see and feel what went on about her.
“I like that,” said Nan, presently, and her face looked less elfish,
with its sharp eyes, inquisitive nose, and mischievous mouth. “What did
your mother do to you when you ran away that time?”
“She tied me to the bed-post with a long string, so that I could not
go out of the room, and there I stayed all day with the little worn-out
shoes hanging up before me to remind me of my fault.”
“I should think that would cure anybody,” cried Nan, who loved her
liberty above all things.
“It did cure me, and I think it will you, so I am going to try it,” said
Mrs. Jo, suddenly taking a ball of strong twine out of a drawer in her
work-table.
Nan looked as if she was decidedly getting the worst of the argument
now, and sat feeling much crestfallen while Mrs. Jo tied one end round
her waist and the other to the arm of the sofa, saying, as she finished,
“I don't like to tie you up like a naughty little dog, but if you don't
remember any better than a dog, I must treat you like one.”
“I'd just as lief be tied up as not I like to play dog;” and Nan put on
a don't-care face, and began to growl and grovel on the floor.
Mrs. Jo took no notice, but leaving a book or two and a handkerchief to
hem, she went away, and left Miss Nan to her own devices. This was not
agreeable, and after sitting a moment she tried to untie the cord. But
it was fastened in the belt of her apron behind, so she began on the
knot at the other end. It soon came loose, and, gathering it up, Nan was
about to get out of the window, when she heard Mrs. Jo say to somebody
as she passed through the hall,
“No, I don't think she will run away now; she is an honorable little
girl, and knows that I do it to help her.”
In a minute, Nan whisked back, tied herself up, and began to sew
violently. Rob came in a moment after, and was so charmed with the new
punishment, that he got a jump-rope and tethered himself to the other
arm of the sofa in the most social manner.
“I got lost too, so I ought to be tied up as much as Nan,” he explained
to his mother when she saw the new captive.
“I'm not sure that you don't deserve a little punishment, for you knew
it was wrong to go far away from the rest.”
“Nan took me,” began Rob, willing to enjoy the novel penalty, but not
willing to take the blame.
“You needn't have gone. You have got a conscience, though you are a
little boy, and you must learn to mind it.”
“Well, my conscience didn't prick me a bit when she said 'Let's get over
the wall,'” answered Rob, quoting one of Demi's expressions.
“Did you stop to see if it did?”
“No.”
“Then you cannot tell.”
“I guess it's such a little conscience that it don't prick hard enough
for me to feel it,” added Rob, after thinking the matter over for a
minute.
“We must sharpen it up. It's bad to have a dull conscience; so you may
stay here till dinner-time, and talk about it with Nan. I trust you both
not to untie yourselves till I say the word.”
“No, we won't,” said both, feeling a certain sense of virtue in helping
to punish themselves.
For an hour they were very good, then they grew tired of one room,
and longed to get out. Never had the hall seemed so inviting; even the
little bedroom acquired a sudden interest, and they would gladly have
gone in and played tent with the curtains of the best bed. The open
windows drove them wild because they could not reach them; and the outer
world seemed so beautiful, they wondered how they ever found the
heart to say it was dull. Nan pined for a race round the lawn, and Rob
remembered with dismay that he had not fed his dog that morning, and
wondered what poor Pollux would do. They watched the clock, and Nan did
some nice calculations in minutes and seconds, while Rob learned to tell
all the hours between eight and one so well that he never forgot them.
It was maddening to smell the dinner, to know that there was to be
succotash and huckleberry pudding, and to feel that they would not be
on the spot to secure good helps of both. When Mary Ann began to set the
table, they nearly cut themselves in two trying to see what meat there
was to be; and Nan offered to help her make the beds, if she would only
see that she had “lots of sauce on her pudding.”
When the boys came bursting out of school, they found the children
tugging at their halters like a pair of restive little colts, and
were much edified, as well as amused, by the sequel to the exciting
adventures of the night.
“Untie me now, Marmar; my conscience will prick like a pin next time, I
know it will,” said Rob, as the bell rang, and Teddy came to look at him
with sorrowful surprise.
“We shall see,” answered his mother, setting him free. He took a good
run down the hall, back through the dining-room, and brought up beside
Nan, quite beaming with virtuous satisfaction.
“I'll bring her dinner to her, may I?” he asked, pitying his
fellow-captive.
“That's my kind little son! Yes, pull out the table, and get a chair;”
and Mrs. Jo hurried away to quell the ardor of the others, who were
always in a raging state of hunger at noon.
Nan ate alone, and spent a long afternoon attached to the sofa. Mrs.
Bhaer lengthened her bonds so that she could look out of the window;
and there she stood watching the boys play, and all the little summer
creatures enjoying their liberty. Daisy had a picnic for the dolls on
the lawn, so that Nan might see the fun if she could not join in it.
Tommy turned his best somersaults to console her; Demi sat on the steps
reading aloud to himself, which amused Nan a good deal; and Dan brought
a little tree-toad to show her as the most delicate attention in his
power.
But nothing atoned for the loss of freedom; and a few hours of
confinement taught Nan how precious it was. A good many thoughts went
through the little head that lay on the window-sill during the last
quiet hour when all the children went to the brook to see Emil's new
ship launched. She was to have christened it, and had depended on
smashing a tiny bottle of currant-wine over the prow as it was named
Josephine in honor of Mrs. Bhaer. Now she had lost her chance, and Daisy
wouldn't do it half so well. Tears rose to her eyes as she remembered
that it was all her own fault; and she said aloud, addressing a fat
bee who was rolling about in the yellow heart of a rose just under the
window,
“If you have run away, you'd better go right home, and tell your mother
you are sorry, and never do so any more.”
“I am glad to hear you give him such good advice, and I think he has
taken it,” said Mrs. Jo, smiling, as the bee spread his dusty wings and
flew away.
Nan brushed off a bright drop or two that shone on the window-sill, and
nestled against her friend as she took her on her knee, adding kindly
for she had seen the little drops, and knew what they meant,
“Do you think my mother's cure for running away a good one?”
“Yes, ma'am,” answered Nan, quite subdued by her quiet day.
“I hope I shall not have to try it again.”
“I guess not;” and Nan looked up with such an earnest little face that
Mrs. Jo felt satisfied, and said no more, for she liked to have her
penalties do their own work, and did not spoil the effect by too much
moralizing.
Here Rob appeared, bearing with infinite care what Asia called a “sarcer
pie,” meaning one baked in a saucer.
“It's made out of some of my berries, and I'm going to give you half at
supper-time,” he announced with a flourish.
“What makes you, when I'm so naughty?” asked Nan, meekly.
“Because we got lost together. You ain't going to be naughty again, are
you?”
“Never,” said Nan, with great decision.
“Oh, goody! now let's go and get Mary Ann to cut this for us all ready
to eat; it's 'most tea time;” and Rob beckoned with the delicious little
pie.
Nan started to follow, then stopped, and said,
“I forgot, I can't go.”
“Try and see,” said Mrs. Bhaer, who had quietly untied the cord sash
while she had been talking.
Nan saw that she was free, and with one tempestuous kiss to Mrs. Jo, she
was off like a humming-bird, followed by Robby, dribbling huckleberry
juice as he ran.
CHAPTER XIII. GOLDILOCKS
After the last excitement peace descended upon Plumfield and reigned
unbroken for several weeks, for the elder boys felt that the loss of Nan
and Rob lay at their door, and all became so paternal in their care
that they were rather wearying; while the little ones listened to Nan's
recital of her perils so many times, that they regarded being lost as
the greatest ill humanity was heir to, and hardly dared to put their
little noses outside the great gate lest night should suddenly descend
upon them, and ghostly black cows come looming through the dusk.
“It is too good to last,” said Mrs. Jo; for years of boy-culture had
taught her that such lulls were usually followed by outbreaks of some
sort, and when less wise women would have thought that the boys had
become confirmed saints, she prepared herself for a sudden eruption of
the domestic volcano.
One cause of this welcome calm was a visit from little Bess, whose
parents lent her for a week while they were away with Grandpa Laurence,
who was poorly. The boys regarded Goldilocks as a mixture of child,
angel, and fairy, for she was a lovely little creature, and the golden
hair which she inherited from her blonde mamma enveloped her like
a shining veil, behind which she smiled upon her worshippers when
gracious, and hid herself when offended. Her father would not have it
cut and it hung below her waist, so soft and fine and bright, that Demi
insisted that it was silk spun from a cocoon. Every one praised the
little Princess, but it did not seem to do her harm, only to teach her
that her presence brought sunshine, her smiles made answering smiles
on other faces, and her baby griefs filled every heart with tenderest
sympathy.
Unconsciously, she did her young subjects more good than many a real
sovereign, for her rule was very gentle and her power was felt rather
than seen. Her natural refinement made her dainty in all things, and
had a good effect upon the careless lads about her. She would let no one
touch her roughly or with unclean hands, and more soap was used during
her visits than at any other time, because the boys considered it the
highest honor to be allowed to carry her highness, and the deepest
disgrace to be repulsed with the disdainful command, “Do away, dirty
boy!”
Loud voices displeased her and quarrelling frightened her; so gentler
tones came into the boyish voices as they addressed her, and squabbles
were promptly suppressed in her presence by lookers-on if the principles
could not restrain themselves. She liked to be waited on, and the
biggest boys did her little errands without a murmur, while the small
lads were her devoted slaves in all things. They begged to be allowed to
draw her carriage, bear her berry-basket, or pass her plate at table.
No service was too humble, and Tommy and Ned came to blows before they
could decide which should have the honor of blacking her little boots.
Nan was especially benefited by a week in the society of a well-bred
lady, though such a very small one; for Bess would look at her with
a mixture of wonder and alarm in her great blue eyes when the hoyden
screamed and romped; and she shrunk from her as if she thought her a
sort of wild animal. Warm-hearted Nan felt this very much. She said at