Little Women
tell you how to behave at each place, so that you will make a good
impression. I want people to like you, and they would if you’d only try
to be a little more agreeable. Do your hair the pretty way, and put the
pink rose in your bonnet. It’s becoming, and you look too sober in your
plain suit. Take your light gloves and the embroidered handkerchief.
We’ll stop at Meg’s, and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can
have my dove-colored one.”
While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyed them, not
without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled
into her new organdie, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet
strings in an irreproachable bow, wrestled viciously with pins as she
put on her collar, wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out
the handkerchief, whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the
present mission was to her feelings, and when she had squeezed her
hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last
touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of
countenance, saying meekly...
“I’m perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable, I die
happy.”
“You’re highly satisfactory. Turn slowly round, and let me get a
careful view.” Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then
fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously, “Yes,
you’ll do. Your head is all I could ask, for that white bonnet with the
rose is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders, and carry your hands
easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There’s one thing you can do
well, Jo, that is, wear a shawl. I can’t, but it’s very nice to see
you, and I’m so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one. It’s simple,
but handsome, and those folds over the arm are really artistic. Is the
point of my mantle in the middle, and have I looped my dress evenly? I
like to show my boots, for my feet are pretty, though my nose isn’t.”
“You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever,” said Jo, looking through
her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the
golden hair. “Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it
up, please, ma’am?”
“Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house. The sweeping style
suits you best, and you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. You
haven’t half buttoned one cuff, do it at once. You’ll never look
finished if you are not careful about the little details, for they make
up the pleasing whole.”
Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove, in doing
up her cuff, but at last both were ready, and sailed away, looking as
‘pretty as picters’, Hannah said, as she hung out of the upper window
to watch them.
“Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so
I want you to put on your best deportment. Don’t make any of your
abrupt remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and
quiet, that’s safe and ladylike, and you can easily do it for fifteen
minutes,” said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed
the white parasol and been inspected by Meg, with a baby on each arm.
“Let me see. ‘Calm, cool, and quiet’, yes, I think I can promise that.
I’ve played the part of a prim young lady on the stage, and I’ll try it
off. My powers are great, as you shall see, so be easy in your mind, my
child.”
Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word, for during
the first call she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold
correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snowbank, and as
silent as the sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chester alluded to her ‘charming
novel’, and the Misses Chester introduced parties, picnics, the opera,
and the fashions. Each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a
demure “Yes” or “No” with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the
word ‘talk’, tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with
her foot. Jo sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment
like Maud’s face, ‘icily regular, splendidly null’.
“What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is!” was
the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, as the door
closed upon their guests. Jo laughed noiselessly all through the hall,
but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions, and very
naturally laid the blame upon Jo.
“How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly
dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock and
stone. Try to be sociable at the Lambs’. Gossip as other girls do, and
be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up.
They move in the best society, are valuable persons for us to know, and
I wouldn’t fail to make a good impression there for anything.”
“I’ll be agreeable. I’ll gossip and giggle, and have horrors and
raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I’ll
imitate what is called ‘a charming girl’. I can do it, for I have May
Chester as a model, and I’ll improve upon her. See if the Lambs don’t
say, ‘What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!”
Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakish there
was no knowing where she would stop. Amy’s face was a study when she
saw her sister skim into the next drawing room, kiss all the young
ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentlemen, and
join in the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder. Amy was taken
possession of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to
hear a long account of Lucretia’s last attack, while three delightful
young gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush
in and rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who
seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubly as
the lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears
to hear what was going on, for broken sentences filled her with
curiosity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the
fun. One may imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this
sort of conversation.
“She rides splendidly. Who taught her?”
“No one. She used to practice mounting, holding the reins, and sitting
straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she
doesn’t know what fear is, and the stableman lets her have horses cheap
because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion
for it, I often tell her if everything else fails, she can be a
horsebreaker, and get her living so.”
At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the
impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which
was her especial aversion. But what could she do? For the old lady was
in the middle of her story, and long before it was done, Jo was off
again, making more droll revelations and committing still more fearful
blunders.
“Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone,
and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so balky that
you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for
a pleasure party, wasn’t it?”
“Which did she choose?” asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who
enjoyed the subject.
“None of them. She heard of a young horse at the farm house over the
river, and though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try,
because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really
pathetic. There was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she
took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rowed it
over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn to the
utter amazement of the old man!”
“Did she ride the horse?”
“Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her
brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, and was the
life of the party.”
“Well, I call that plucky!” and young Mr. Lamb turned an approving
glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the
girl look so red and uncomfortable.
She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after, when a
sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress. One of
the young ladies asked Jo where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to
the picnic and stupid Jo, instead of mentioning the place where it was
bought two years ago, must needs answer with unnecessary frankness,
“Oh, Amy painted it. You can’t buy those soft shades, so we paint ours
any color we like. It’s a great comfort to have an artistic sister.”
“Isn’t that an original idea?” cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun.
“That’s nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There’s
nothing the child can’t do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for
Sallie’s party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest
shade of sky blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin,”
added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister’s accomplishments that
exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her
cardcase at her.
“We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much,”
observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady,
who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.
Any mention of her ‘works’ always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either
grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a brusque
remark, as now. “Sorry you could find nothing better to read. I write
that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you
going to New York this winter?”
As Miss Lamb had ‘enjoyed’ the story, this speech was not exactly
grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw her mistake,
but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was
for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an
abruptness that left three people with half-finished sentences in their
mouths.
“Amy, we must go. Good-by, dear, do come and see us. We are pining for
a visit. I don’t dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb, but if you should come, I
don’t think I shall have the heart to send you away.”
Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester’s gushing style
that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong
desire to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Didn’t I do well?” asked Jo, with a satisfied air as they walked away.
“Nothing could have been worse,” was Amy’s crushing reply. “What
possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and the hats and
boots, and all the rest of it?”
“Why, it’s funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor, so it’s no
use pretending that we have grooms, buy three or four hats a season,
and have things as easy and fine as they do.”
“You needn’t go and tell them all our little shifts, and expose our
poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven’t a bit of proper
pride, and never will learn when to hold your tongue and when to
speak,” said Amy despairingly.
Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with
the stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her
misdemeanors.
“How shall I behave here?” she asked, as they approached the third
mansion.
“Just as you please. I wash my hands of you,” was Amy’s short answer.
“Then I’ll enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we’ll have a
comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance
has a bad effect upon my constitution,” returned Jo gruffly, being
disturbed by her failure to suit.
An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children
speedily soothed her ruffled feelings, and leaving Amy to entertain the
hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be calling likewise, Jo devoted
herself to the young folks and found the change refreshing. She