Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo's Boys
cosy 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 laid 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.
“Won't they hurt 'em?” asked Nat, who lay laughing with all his might.
“Oh dear, no! We always allow one pillow-fight Saturday night. The cases
are changed to-morrow; and it gets up a glow after the boys' baths; so
I rather like it myself,” said Mrs. Bhaer, busy again among her dozen
pairs of socks.
“What a very nice school this is!” observed Nat, in a burst of
admiration.
“It's an odd one,” laughed Mrs. Bhaer, “but you see we don't believe
in making children miserable by too many rules, and too much study. I
forbade night-gown parties at first; but, bless you, it was of no use.
I could no more keep those boys in their beds than so many jacks in the
box. So I made an agreement with them: I was to allow a fifteen-minute
pillow-fight every Saturday night; and they promised to go properly to
bed every other night. I tried it, and it worked well. If they don't
keep their word, no frolic; if they do, I just turn the glasses round,
put the lamps in safe places, and let them rampage as much as they
like.”
“It's a beautiful plan,” said Nat, feeling that he should like to join
in the fray, but not venturing to propose it the first night. So he lay
enjoying the spectacle, which certainly was a lively one.
Tommy Bangs led the assailing party, and Demi defended his own room with
a dogged courage fine to see, collecting pillows behind him as fast as
they were thrown, till the besiegers were out of ammunition, when they
would charge upon him in a body, and recover their arms. A few slight
accidents occurred, but nobody minded, and gave and took sounding
thwacks with perfect good humor, while pillows flew like big snowflakes,
till Mrs. Bhaer looked at her watch, and called out:
“Time is up, boys. Into bed, every man jack, or pay the forfeit!”
“What is the forfeit?” asked Nat, sitting up in his eagerness to know
what happened to those wretches who disobeyed this most peculiar, but
public-spirited school-ma'am.
“Lose their fun next time,” answered Mrs. Bhaer. “I give them five
minutes to settle down, then put out the lights, and expect order. They
are honorable lads, and they keep their word.”
That was evident, for the battle ended as abruptly as it began, a parting
shot or two, a final cheer, as Demi fired the seventh pillow at the
retiring foe, a few challenges for next time, then order prevailed. And
nothing but an occasional giggle or a suppressed whisper broke the quiet
which followed the Saturday-night frolic, as Mother Bhaer kissed her new
boy and left him to happy dreams of life at Plumfield.
CHAPTER II. THE BOYS
While Nat takes a good long sleep, I will tell my little readers
something about the boys, among whom he found himself when he woke up.
To begin with our old friends. Franz was a tall lad, of sixteen now, a
regular German, big, blond, and bookish, also very domestic, amiable,
and musical. His uncle was fitting him for college, and his aunt for a
happy home of his own hereafter, because she carefully fostered in him
gentle manners, love of children, respect for women, old and young,
and helpful ways about the house. He was her right-hand man on all
occasions, steady, kind, and patient; and he loved his merry aunt like a
mother, for such she had tried to be to him.
Emil was quite different, being quick-tempered, restless, and
enterprising, bent on going to sea, for the blood of the old vikings
stirred in his veins, and could not be tamed. His uncle promised that he
should go when he was sixteen, and set him to studying navigation, gave
him stories of good and famous admirals and heroes to read, and let him
lead the life of a frog in river, pond, and brook, when lessons were
done. His room looked like the cabin of a man-of-war, for every thing
was nautical, military, and shipshape. Captain Kyd was his delight, and
his favorite amusement was to rig up like that piratical gentleman, and
roar out sanguinary sea-songs at the top of his voice. He would dance
nothing but sailors' hornpipes, rolled in his gait, and was as
nautical in conversation to his uncle would permit. The boys called him
“Commodore,” and took great pride in his fleet, which whitened the
pond and suffered disasters that would have daunted any commander but a
sea-struck boy.
Demi was one of the children who show plainly the effect of intelligent
love and care, for soul and body worked harmoniously together. The
natural refinement which nothing but home influence can teach, gave
him sweet and simple manners: his mother had cherished an innocent and
loving heart in him; his father had watched over the physical growth of
his boy, and kept the little body straight and strong on wholesome food
and exercise and sleep, while Grandpa March cultivated the little mind
with the tender wisdom of a modern Pythagoras, not tasking it with long,
hard lessons, parrot-learned, but helping it to unfold as naturally and
beautifully as sun and dew help roses bloom. He was not a perfect child,
by any means, but his faults were of the better sort; and being early
taught the secret of self-control, he was not left at the mercy of
appetites and passions, as some poor little mortals are, and then
punished for yielding to the temptations against which they have
no armor. A quiet, quaint boy was Demi, serious, yet cheery, quite
unconscious that he was unusually bright and beautiful, yet quick to see
and love intelligence or beauty in other children. Very fond of books,
and full of lively fancies, born of a strong imagination and a spiritual
nature, these traits made his parents anxious to balance them with
useful knowledge and healthful society, lest they should make him one of
those pale precocious children who amaze and delight a family sometimes,
and fade away like hot-house flowers, because the young soul blooms too
soon, and has not a hearty body to root it firmly in the wholesome soil
of this world.
So Demi was transplanted to Plumfield, and took so kindly to the life
there, that Meg and John and Grandpa felt satisfied that they had done
well. Mixing with other boys brought out the practical side of him,
roused his spirit, and brushed away the pretty cobwebs he was so fond of
spinning in that little brain of his. To be sure, he rather shocked
his mother when he came home, by banging doors, saying “by George”
emphatically, and demanding tall thick boots “that clumped like papa's.”
But John rejoiced over him, laughed at his explosive remarks, got the
boots, and said contentedly,
“He is doing well; so let him clump. I want my son to be a manly boy,
and this temporary roughness won't hurt him. We can polish him up by
and by; and as for learning, he will pick that up as pigeons do peas. So
don't hurry him.”
Daisy was as sunshiny and charming as ever, with all sorts of
womanlinesses budding in her, for she was like her gentle mother,
and delighted in domestic things. She had a family of dolls, whom she
brought up in the most exemplary manner; she could not get on without
her little work-basket and bits of sewing, which she did so nicely, that
Demi frequently pulled out his handkerchief to display her neat stitches,
and Baby Josy had a flannel petticoat beautifully made by Sister Daisy.
She like to quiddle about the china-closet, prepare the salt-cellars,
put the spoons straight on the table; and every day went round the
parlor with her brush, dusting chairs and tables. Demi called her a
“Betty,” but was very glad to have her keep his things in order, lend
him her nimble fingers in all sorts of work, and help him with his
lessons, for they kept abreast there, and had no thought of rivalry.
The love between them was as strong as ever; and no one could laugh
Demi out of his affectionate ways with Daisy. He fought her battles
valiantly, and never could understand why boys should be ashamed to
say “right out,” that they loved their sisters. Daisy adored her twin,
thought “my brother” the most remarkable boy in the world, and every
morning, in her little wrapper, trotted to tap at his door with a
motherly “Get up, my dear, it's 'most breakfast time; and here's your
clean collar.”
Rob was an energetic morsel of a boy, who seemed to have discovered the
secret of perpetual motion, for he never was still. Fortunately, he was
not mischievous, nor very brave; so he kept out of trouble pretty well,
and vibrated between father and mother like an affectionate little
pendulum with a lively tick, for Rob was a chatterbox.
Teddy was too young to play a very important part in the affairs of
Plumfield, yet he had his little sphere, and filled it beautifully.
Every one felt the need of a pet at times, and Baby was always ready to
accommodate, for kissing and cuddling suited him excellently. Mrs.
Jo seldom stirred without him; so he had his little finger in all the
domestic pies, and every one found them all the better for it, for they
believed in babies at Plumfield.
Dick Brown, and Adolphus or Dolly Pettingill, were two eight year-olds.
Dolly stuttered badly, but was gradually getting over it, for no one was
allowed to mock him and Mr. Bhaer tried to cure it, by making him talk
slowly. Dolly was a good little lad, quite uninteresting and ordinary,
but he flourished here, and went through his daily duties and pleasures
with placid content and propriety.
Dick Brown's affliction was a crooked back, yet he bore his burden so
cheerfully, that Demi once asked in his queer way, “Do humps make people
good-natured? I'd like one if they do.” Dick was always merry, and did
his best to be like other boys, for a plucky spirit lived in the
feeble little body. When he first came, he was very sensitive about his
misfortune, but soon learned to forget it, for no one dared remind him
of it, after Mr. Bhaer had punished one boy for laughing at him.
“God don't care; for my soul is straight if my back isn't,” sobbed Dick
to his tormentor on that occasion; and, by cherishing this idea, the
Bhaers soon led him to believe that people also loved his soul, and did
not mind his body, except to pity and help him to bear it.
Playing menagerie once with the others, some one said,
“What animal will you be, Dick?”
“Oh, I'm the dromedary; don't you see the hump on my back?” was the
laughing answer.
“So you are, my nice little one that don't carry loads, but marches by
the elephant first in the procession,” said Demi, who was arranging the
spectacle.
“I hope others will be as kind to the poor dear as my boys have learned
to be,” said Mrs. Jo, quite satisfied with the success of her teaching,
as Dick ambled past her, looking like a very happy, but a very feeble
little dromedary, beside stout Stuffy, who did the elephant with
ponderous propriety.
Jack Ford was a sharp, rather a sly lad, who was sent to this school,
because it was cheap. Many men would have thought him a smart boy, but