Little Women
for it,” said Jo, composing herself, 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 turning, 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 painted 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, “So you’re not afraid of me, hey?”
“Not much, sir.”
“And you don’t think me as handsome as your grandfather?”
“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 told 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?”
“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 imagined 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 grandson did not escape him. There was
color, light, and life in the boy’s face now, vivacity in his manner,
and genuine merriment 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 listened. 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 conservatory,
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, but Jo’s attention was entirely absorbed by a grand piano, which
stood open.
“Do you play?” she asked, turning to Laurie with a respectful
expression.
“Sometimes,” he answered modestly.
“Please do now. I want to hear it, so I can tell Beth.”
“Won’t you first?”
“Don’t know how. Too stupid to learn, but I love music dearly.”
So Laurie played and Jo listened, with her nose luxuriously 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 sugarplums 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 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 lovely 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 sentimental.
“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 occurred 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_’,” answered 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.
CHAPTER SIX
BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL
The big house did prove a Palace Beautiful, though it took some time
for all to get in, and Beth found it very hard to pass the lions. Old
Mr. Laurence was the biggest one, but after he had called, said
something funny or kind to each one of the girls, and talked over old
times with their mother, nobody felt much afraid of him, except timid
Beth. The other lion was the fact that they were poor and Laurie rich,
for this made them shy of accepting favors which they could not return.
But, after a while, they found that he considered them the benefactors,
and could not do enough to show how grateful he was for Mrs. March’s
motherly welcome, their cheerful society, and the comfort he took in
that humble home of theirs. So they soon forgot their pride and
interchanged kindnesses without stopping to think which was the
greater.
All sorts of pleasant things happened about that time, for the new
friendship flourished like grass in spring. Every one liked Laurie, and
he privately informed his tutor that “the Marches were regularly
splendid girls.” With the delightful enthusiasm of youth, they took the
solitary boy into their midst and made much of him, and he found
something very charming in the innocent companionship of these
simple-hearted girls. Never having known mother or sisters, he was
quick to feel the influences they brought about him, and their busy,
lively ways made him ashamed of the indolent life he led. He was tired