Little Women
few people went in and out, except the old gentleman and his grandson.
To Jo’s lively fancy, this fine house seemed a kind of enchanted
palace, full of splendors and delights which no one enjoyed. She had
long wanted to behold these hidden glories, and to know the Laurence
boy, who looked as if he would like to be known, if he only knew how to
begin. Since the party, she had been more eager than ever, and had
planned many ways of making friends with him, but he had not been seen
lately, and Jo began to think he had gone away, when she one day spied
a brown face at an upper window, looking wistfully down into their
garden, where Beth and Amy were snow-balling one another.
“That boy is suffering for society and fun,” she said to herself. “His
grandpa does not know what’s good for him, and keeps him shut up all
alone. He needs a party of jolly boys to play with, or somebody young
and lively. I’ve a great mind to go over and tell the old gentleman
so!”
The idea amused Jo, who liked to do daring things and was always
scandalizing Meg by her queer performances. The plan of ‘going over’
was not forgotten. And when the snowy afternoon came, Jo resolved to
try what could be done. She saw Mr. Lawrence drive off, and then
sallied out to dig her way down to the hedge, where she paused and took
a survey. All quiet, curtains down at the lower windows, servants out
of sight, and nothing human visible but a curly black head leaning on a
thin hand at the upper window.
“There he is,” thought Jo, “Poor boy! All alone and sick this dismal
day. It’s a shame! I’ll toss up a snowball and make him look out, and
then say a kind word to him.”
Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a
face which lost its listless look in a minute, as the big eyes
brightened and the mouth began to smile. Jo nodded and laughed, and
flourished her broom as she called out...
“How do you do? Are you sick?”
Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven...
“Better, thank you. I’ve had a bad cold, and been shut up a week.”
“I’m sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?”
“Nothing. It’s dull as tombs up here.”
“Don’t you read?”
“Not much. They won’t let me.”
“Can’t somebody read to you?”
“Grandpa does sometimes, but my books don’t interest him, and I hate to
ask Brooke all the time.”
“Have someone come and see you then.”
“There isn’t anyone I’d like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head
is weak.”
“Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse you? Girls are quiet
and like to play nurse.”
“Don’t know any.”
“You know us,” began Jo, then laughed and stopped.
“So I do! Will you come, please?” cried Laurie.
“I’m not quiet and nice, but I’ll come, if Mother will let me. I’ll go
ask her. Shut the window, like a good boy, and wait till I come.”
With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house,
wondering what they would all say to her. Laurie was in a flutter of
excitement at the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready,
for as Mrs. March said, he was ‘a little gentleman’, and did honor to
the coming guest by brushing his curly pate, putting on a fresh color,
and trying to tidy up the room, which in spite of half a dozen
servants, was anything but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, then
a decided voice, asking for ‘Mr. Laurie’, and a surprised-looking
servant came running up to announce a young lady.
“All right, show her up, it’s Miss Jo,” said Laurie, going to the door
of his little parlor to meet Jo, who appeared, looking rosy and quite
at her ease, with a covered dish in one hand and Beth’s three kittens
in the other.
“Here I am, bag and baggage,” she said briskly. “Mother sent her love,
and was glad if I could do anything for you. Meg wanted me to bring
some of her blanc mange, she makes it very nicely, and Beth thought her
cats would be comforting. I knew you’d laugh at them, but I couldn’t
refuse, she was so anxious to do something.”
It so happened that Beth’s funny loan was just the thing, for in
laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his bashfulness, and grew
sociable at once.
“That looks too pretty to eat,” he said, smiling with pleasure, as Jo
uncovered the dish, and showed the blanc mange, surrounded by a garland
of green leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy’s pet geranium.
“It isn’t anything, only they all felt kindly and wanted to show it.
Tell the girl to put it away for your tea. It’s so simple you can eat
it, and being soft, it will slip down without hurting your sore throat.
What a cozy room this is!”
“It might be if it was kept nice, but the maids are lazy, and I don’t
know how to make them mind. It worries me though.”
“I’ll right it up in two minutes, for it only needs to have the hearth
brushed, so—and the things made straight on the mantelpiece, so—and the
books put here, and the bottles there, and your sofa turned from the
light, and the pillows plumped up a bit. Now then, you’re fixed.”
And so he was, for, as she laughed and talked, Jo had whisked things
into place and given quite a different air to the room. Laurie watched
her in respectful silence, and when she beckoned him to his sofa, he
sat down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying gratefully...
“How kind you are! Yes, that’s what it wanted. Now please take the big
chair and let me do something to amuse my company.”
“No, I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?” and Jo looked
affectionately toward some inviting books near by.
“Thank you! I’ve read all those, and if you don’t mind, I’d rather
talk,” answered Laurie.
“Not a bit. I’ll talk all day if you’ll only set me going. Beth says I
never know when to stop.”
“Is Beth the rosy one, who stays at home good deal and sometimes goes
out with a little basket?” asked Laurie with interest.
“Yes, that’s Beth. She’s my girl, and a regular good one she is, too.”
“The pretty one is Meg, and the curly-haired one is Amy, I believe?”
“How did you find that out?”
Laurie colored up, but answered frankly, “Why, you see I often hear you
calling to one another, and when I’m alone up here, I can’t help
looking over at your house, you always seem to be having such good
times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, but sometimes you forget to
put down the curtain at the window where the flowers are. And when the
lamps are lighted, it’s like looking at a picture to see the fire, and
you all around the table with your mother. Her face is right opposite,
and it looks so sweet behind the flowers, I can’t help watching it. I
haven’t got any mother, you know.” And Laurie poked the fire to hide a
little twitching of the lips that he could not control.
The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to Jo’s warm heart.
She had been so simply taught that there was no nonsense in her head,
and at fifteen she was as innocent and frank as any child. Laurie was
sick and lonely, and feeling how rich she was in home and happiness,
she gladly tried to share it with him. Her face was very friendly and
her sharp voice unusually gentle as she said...
“We’ll never draw that curtain any more, and I give you leave to look
as much as you like. I just wish, though, instead of peeping, you’d
come over and see us. Mother is so splendid, she’d do you heaps of
good, and Beth would sing to you if I begged her to, and Amy would
dance. Meg and I would make you laugh over our funny stage properties,
and we’d have jolly times. Wouldn’t your grandpa let you?”
“I think he would, if your mother asked him. He’s very kind, though he
does not look so, and he lets me do what I like, pretty much, only he’s
afraid I might be a bother to strangers,” began Laurie, brightening
more and more.
“We are not strangers, we are neighbors, and you needn’t think you’d be
a bother. We want to know you, and I’ve been trying to do it this ever
so long. We haven’t been here a great while, you know, but we have got
acquainted with all our neighbors but you.”
“You see, Grandpa lives among his books, and doesn’t mind much what
happens outside. Mr. Brooke, my tutor, doesn’t stay here, you know, and
I have no one to go about with me, so I just stop at home and get on as
I can.”
“That’s bad. You ought to make an effort and go visiting everywhere you
are asked, then you’ll have plenty of friends, and pleasant places to
go to. Never mind being bashful. It won’t last long if you keep going.”
Laurie turned red again, but wasn’t offended at being accused of
bashfulness, for there was so much good will in Jo it was impossible
not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant.
“Do you like your school?” asked the boy, changing the subject, after a
little pause, during which he stared at the fire and Jo looked about
her, well pleased.
“Don’t go to school, I’m a businessman—girl, I mean. I go to wait on my
great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too,” answered Jo.
Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question, but remembering just
in time that it wasn’t manners to make too many inquiries into people’s
affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable.
Jo liked his good breeding, and didn’t mind having a laugh at Aunt
March, so she gave him a lively description of the fidgety old lady,
her fat poodle, the parrot that talked Spanish, and the library where
she reveled.
Laurie enjoyed that immensely, and when she told about the prim old
gentleman who came once to woo Aunt March, and in the middle of a fine
speech, how Poll had tweaked his wig off to his great dismay, the boy
lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and a maid
popped her head in to see what was the matter.
“Oh! That does me no end of good. Tell on, please,” he said, taking his
face out of the sofa cushion, red and shining with merriment.
Much elated with her success, Jo did ‘tell on’, all about their plays
and plans, their hopes and fears for Father, and the most interesting
events of the little world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to
talking about books, and to Jo’s delight, she found that Laurie loved
them as well as she did, and had read even more than herself.
“If you like them so much, come down and see ours. Grandfather is out,
so you needn’t be afraid,” said Laurie, getting up.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” returned Jo, with a toss of the head.
“I don’t believe you are!” exclaimed the boy, looking at her with much
admiration, though he privately thought she would have good reason to
be a trifle afraid of the old gentleman, if she met him in some of his
moods.
The atmosphere of the whole house being summerlike, Laurie led the way
from room to room, letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her
fancy. And so, at last they came to the library, where she clapped her
hands and pranced, as she always did when especially delighted. It was
lined with books, and there were pictures and statues, and distracting
little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and Sleepy Hollow
chairs, and queer tables, and bronzes, and best of all, a great open
fireplace with quaint tiles all round it.
“What richness!” sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velour chair
and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction. “Theodore
Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world,” she added
impressively.
“A fellow can’t live on books,” said Laurie, shaking his head as he
perched on a table opposite.
Before he could say more, a bell rang, and Jo flew up, exclaiming with
alarm, “Mercy me! It’s your grandpa!”
“Well, what if it is? You are not afraid of anything, you know,”
returned the boy, looking wicked.
“I think I am a little bit afraid of him, but I don’t know why I should
be. Marmee said I might come, and I don’t think you’re any the worse