Little Women
devoted to poor Father that we couldn’t help getting fond of him. He
was perfectly open and honorable about Meg, for he told us he loved
her, but would earn a comfortable home before he asked her to marry
him. He only wanted our leave to love her and work for her, and the
right to make her love him if he could. He is a truly excellent young
man, and we could not refuse to listen to him, but I will not consent
to Meg’s engaging herself so young.”
“Of course not. It would be idiotic! I knew there was mischief brewing.
I felt it, and now it’s worse than I imagined. I just wish I could
marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in the family.”
This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile, but she said gravely, “Jo,
I confide in you and don’t wish you to say anything to Meg yet. When
John comes back, and I see them together, I can judge better of her
feelings toward him.”
“She’ll see those handsome eyes that she talks about, and then it will
be all up with her. She’s got such a soft heart, it will melt like
butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentlly at her. She read the
short reports he sent more than she did your letters, and pinched me
when I spoke of it, and likes brown eyes, and doesn’t think John an
ugly name, and she’ll go and fall in love, and there’s an end of peace
and fun, and cozy times together. I see it all! They’ll go lovering
around the house, and we shall have to dodge. Meg will be absorbed and
no good to me any more. Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry
her off, and make a hole in the family, and I shall break my heart, and
everything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! Why weren’t
we all boys, then there wouldn’t be any bother.”
Jo leaned her chin on her knees in a disconsolate attitude and shook
her fist at the reprehensible John. Mrs. March sighed, and Jo looked up
with an air of relief.
“You don’t like it, Mother? I’m glad of it. Let’s send him about his
business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all be happy together as
we always have been.”
“I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you should all go to
homes of your own in time, but I do want to keep my girls as long as I
can, and I am sorry that this happened so soon, for Meg is only
seventeen and it will be some years before John can make a home for
her. Your father and I have agreed that she shall not bind herself in
any way, nor be married, before twenty. If she and John love one
another, they can wait, and test the love by doing so. She is
conscientious, and I have no fear of her treating him unkindly. My
pretty, tender hearted girl! I hope things will go happily with her.”
“Hadn’t you rather have her marry a rich man?” asked Jo, as her
mother’s voice faltered a little over the last words.
“Money is a good and useful thing, Jo, and I hope my girls will never
feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much. I should
like to know that John was firmly established in some good business,
which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make
Meg comfortable. I’m not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a
fashionable position, or a great name for my girls. If rank and money
come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and
enjoy your good fortune, but I know, by experience, how much genuine
happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the daily bread is
earned, and some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am
content to see Meg begin humbly, for if I am not mistaken, she will be
rich in the possession of a good man’s heart, and that is better than a
fortune.”
“I understand, Mother, and quite agree, but I’m disappointed about Meg,
for I’d planned to have her marry Teddy by-and-by and sit in the lap of
luxury all her days. Wouldn’t it be nice?” asked Jo, looking up with a
brighter face.
“He is younger than she, you know,” began Mrs. March, but Jo broke
in...
“Only a little, he’s old for his age, and tall, and can be quite
grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he’s rich and generous and
good, and loves us all, and I say it’s a pity my plan is spoiled.”
“I’m afraid Laurie is hardly grown-up enough for Meg, and altogether
too much of a weathercock just now for anyone to depend on. Don’t make
plans, Jo, but let time and their own hearts mate your friends. We
can’t meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get ‘romantic
rubbish’ as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship.”
“Well, I won’t, but I hate to see things going all crisscross and
getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten
it out. I wish wearing flatirons on our heads would keep us from
growing up. But buds will be roses, and kittens cats, more’s the pity!”
“What’s that about flatirons and cats?” asked Meg, as she crept into
the room with the finished letter in her hand.
“Only one of my stupid speeches. I’m going to bed. Come, Peggy,” said
Jo, unfolding herself like an animated puzzle.
“Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that I send my love
to John,” said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter and gave it
back.
“Do you call him ‘John’?” asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes
looking down into her mother’s.
“Yes, he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him,”
replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one.
“I’m glad of that, he is so lonely. Good night, Mother, dear. It is so
inexpressibly comfortable to have you here,” was Meg’s answer.
The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one, and as she went
away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfaction and regret, “She
does not love John yet, but will soon learn to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LAURIE MAKES MISCHIEF, AND JO MAKES PEACE
Jo’s face was a study next day, for the secret rather weighed upon her,
and she found it hard not to look mysterious and important. Meg
observed it, but did not trouble herself to make inquiries, for she had
learned that the best way to manage Jo was by the law of contraries, so
she felt sure of being told everything if she did not ask. She was
rather surprised, therefore, when the silence remained unbroken, and Jo
assumed a patronizing air, which decidedly aggravated Meg, who in turn
assumed an air of dignified reserve and devoted herself to her mother.
This left Jo to her own devices, for Mrs. March had taken her place as
nurse, and bade her rest, exercise, and amuse herself after her long
confinement. Amy being gone, Laurie was her only refuge, and much as
she enjoyed his society, she rather dreaded him just then, for he was
an incorrigible tease, and she feared he would coax the secret from
her.
She was quite right, for the mischief-loving lad no sooner suspected a
mystery than he set himself to find it out, and led Jo a trying life of
it. He wheedled, bribed, ridiculed, threatened, and scolded; affected
indifference, that he might surprise the truth from her; declared he
knew, then that he didn’t care; and at last, by dint of perseverance,
he satisfied himself that it concerned Meg and Mr. Brooke. Feeling
indignant that he was not taken into his tutor’s confidence, he set his
wits to work to devise some proper retaliation for the slight.
Meg meanwhile had apparently forgotten the matter and was absorbed in
preparations for her father’s return, but all of a sudden a change
seemed to come over her, and, for a day or two, she was quite unlike
herself. She started when spoken to, blushed when looked at, was very
quiet, and sat over her sewing, with a timid, troubled look on her
face. To her mother’s inquiries she answered that she was quite well,
and Jo’s she silenced by begging to be let alone.
“She feels it in the air—love, I mean—and she’s going very fast. She’s
got most of the symptoms—is twittery and cross, doesn’t eat, lies
awake, and mopes in corners. I caught her singing that song he gave
her, and once she said ‘John’, as you do, and then turned as red as a
poppy. Whatever shall we do?” said Jo, looking ready for any measures,
however violent.
“Nothing but wait. Let her alone, be kind and patient, and Father’s
coming will settle everything,” replied her mother.
“Here’s a note to you, Meg, all sealed up. How odd! Teddy never seals
mine,” said Jo next day, as she distributed the contents of the little
post office.
Mrs. March and Jo were deep in their own affairs, when a sound from Meg
made them look up to see her staring at her note with a frightened
face.
“My child, what is it?” cried her mother, running to her, while Jo
tried to take the paper which had done the mischief.
“It’s all a mistake, he didn’t send it. Oh, Jo, how could you do it?”
and Meg hid her face in her hands, crying as if her heart were quite
broken.
“Me! I’ve done nothing! What’s she talking about?” cried Jo,
bewildered.
Meg’s mild eyes kindled with anger as she pulled a crumpled note from
her pocket and threw it at Jo, saying reproachfully, “You wrote it, and
that bad boy helped you. How could you be so rude, so mean, and cruel
to us both?”
Jo hardly heard her, for she and her mother were reading the note,
which was written in a peculiar hand.
“My Dearest Margaret,
“I can no longer restrain my passion, and must know my fate before I
return. I dare not tell your parents yet, but I think they would
consent if they knew that we adored one another. Mr. Laurence will help
me to some good place, and then, my sweet girl, you will make me happy.
I implore you to say nothing to your family yet, but to send one word
of hope through Laurie to,
“Your devoted John.”
“Oh, the little villain! That’s the way he meant to pay me for keeping
my word to Mother. I’ll give him a hearty scolding and bring him over
to beg pardon,” cried Jo, burning to execute immediate justice. But her
mother held her back, saying, with a look she seldom wore...
“Stop, Jo, you must clear yourself first. You have played so many
pranks that I am afraid you have had a hand in this.”
“On my word, Mother, I haven’t! I never saw that note before, and don’t
know anything about it, as true as I live!” said Jo, so earnestly that
they believed her. “If I had taken part in it I’d have done it better
than this, and have written a sensible note. I should think you’d have
known Mr. Brooke wouldn’t write such stuff as that,” she added,
scornfully tossing down the paper.
“It’s like his writing,” faltered Meg, comparing it with the note in
her hand.
“Oh, Meg, you didn’t answer it?” cried Mrs. March quickly.
“Yes, I did!” and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame.
“Here’s a scrape! Do let me bring that wicked boy over to explain and
be lectured. I can’t rest till I get hold of him.” And Jo made for the
door again.
“Hush! Let me handle this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret,
tell me the whole story,” commanded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg,
yet keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off.
“I received the first letter from Laurie, who didn’t look as if he knew
anything about it,” began Meg, without looking up. “I was worried at
first and meant to tell you, then I remembered how you liked Mr.
Brooke, so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I kept my little secret for a
few days. I’m so silly that I liked to think no one knew, and while I
was deciding what to say, I felt like the girls in books, who have such
things to do. Forgive me, Mother, I’m paid for my silliness now. I
never can look him in the face again.”
“What did you say to him?” asked Mrs. March.
“I only said I was too young to do anything about it yet, that I didn’t
wish to have secrets from you, and he must speak to father. I was very
grateful for his kindness, and would be his friend, but nothing more,
for a long while.”
Mrs. March smiled, as if well pleased, and Jo clapped her hands,