Little Women

by Louisa May Alcott

  “I’ll believe it, with all my heart, but, Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again: the happy old times can’t come back, and we mustn’t expect it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do, for playtime is over, and we must give up frolicking. I’m sure you feel this. I see the change in you, and you’ll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can’t be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives, won’t we, Laurie?”

  He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion, there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them both. Presently Jo said cheerfully, for she didn’t want the coming home to be a sad one, “I can’t make it true that you children are really married, and going to set up housekeeping. Why, it seems only yesterday that I was buttoning Amy’s pinafore, and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me, how time does fly!”

  “As one of the children is older than yourself, you needn’t talk so like a grandma. I flatter myself I’m a ‘gentleman growed,’ as Peggotty said of David[307] and when you see Amy, you’ll find her rather a precocious infant,” said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal air.

  “You may be a little older in years, but I’m ever so much older in feeling, Teddy. Women always are, and this last year has been such a hard one that I feel forty.”

  “Poor Jo! We left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring. You are older; here’s a line, and there’s another; unless you smile, your eyes look sad, and when I touched the cushion, just now, I found a tear on it. You’ve had a great deal to bear, and had to bear it all alone. What a selfish beast I’ve been!” And Laurie pulled his own hair, with a remorseful look.

  But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered, in a tone which she tried to make quite cheerful, “No, I had Father and Mother to help me, the dear babies to comfort me, and the thought that you and Amy were safe and happy, to make the troubles here easier to bear. I am lonely, sometimes, but I dare say it’s good for me, and – ”

  “You never shall be again,” broke in Laurie, putting his arm about her, as if to fence out every human ill. “Amy and I can’t get on without you, so you must come and teach ‘the children’ to keep house, and go halves in everything, just as we used to do, and let us pet you, and all be blissfully happy and friendly together.”

  “If I shouldn’t be in the way, it would be very pleasant. I begin to feel quite young already, for somehow all my troubles seemed to fly away when you came. You always were a comfort, Teddy.” And Jo leaned her head on his shoulder, just as she did years ago, when Beth lay ill and Laurie told her to hold on to him.

  He looked down at her, wondering if she remembered the time, but Jo was smiling to herself, as if, in truth, her troubles had all vanished at his coming.

  “You are the same Jo still, dropping tears about one minute, and laughing the next. You look a little wicked now. What is it, Grandma?”

  “I was wondering how you and Amy get on together.”

  “Like angels!”

  “Yes, of course, at first, but which rules?”

  “I don’t mind telling you that she does, now, at least I let her think so – it pleases her, you know. By-and-by we shall take turns, for marriage, they say, halves one’s rights and doubles one’s duties.”

  “You’ll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of your life.”

  “Well, she does it so imperceptibly that I don’t think I shall mind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well; in fact, I rather like it, for she winds one round her finger as softly and prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favor all the while.”

  “That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband and enjoying it!” cried Jo, with uplifted hands.

  It was good to see Laurie square his shoulders, and smile with masculine scorn at that insinuation, as he replied, with his “high and mighty” air, “Amy is too well-bred for that, and I am not the sort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect ourselves and one another too much ever to tyrannize or quarrel.”

  Jo liked that, and thought the new dignity very becoming, but the boy seemed changing very fast into the man, and regret mingled with her pleasure.

  “I am sure of that. Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to. She is the sun and I the wind, in the fable, and the sun managed the man best, you remember.”[308]

  “She can blow him up as well as shine on him,” laughed Laurie. “Such a lecture as I got at Nice! I give you my word it was a deal worse than any of your scoldings – a regular rouser. I’ll tell you all about it sometime – she never will, because after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicable party and married the good-for-nothing.”

  “What baseness! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I’ll defend you.”

  “I look as if I needed it, don’t I?” said Laurie, getting up and striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposing to the rapturous, as Amy’s voice was heard calling, “Where is she? Where’s my dear old Jo?”

  In trooped the whole family, and everyone was hugged and kissed all over again, and, after several vain attempts, the three wanderers were set down to be looked at and exulted over. Mr. Laurence, hale and hearty as ever, was quite as much improved as the others by his foreign tour, for the crustiness seemed to be nearly gone, and the old-fashioned courtliness had received a polish which made it kindlier than ever. It was good to see him beam at “my children,” as he called the young pair; it was better still to see Amy pay him the daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart; and best of all, to watch Laurie revolve about the two, as if never tired of enjoying the pretty picture they made.

  The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious that her own dress hadn’t a Parisian air, that young Mrs. Moffat would be entirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Laurence, and that “her ladyship” was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as she watched the pair, “How well they look together! I was right, and Laurie has found the beautiful, accomplished girl who will become his home better than clumsy old Jo, and be a pride, not a torment to him.” Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces, for they saw that their youngest had done well, not only in worldly things, but the better wealth of love, confidence, and happiness.

  For Amy’s face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful heart, her voice had a new tenderness in it, and the cool, prim carriage was changed to a gentle dignity, both womanly and winning. No little affectations marred it, and the cordial sweetness of her manner was more charming than the new beauty or the old grace, for it stamped her at once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentlewoman she had hoped to become.

  “Love has done much for our little girl,” said her mother softly.

  “She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear,” Mr. March whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face and gray head beside him.

  Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her “pitty aunty,” but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chatelaine[309] full of delightful charms. Demi paused to consider the new relationship before he compromised himself by the rash acceptance of a bribe, which took the tempting form of a family of wooden bears from Berne. A flank movement produced an unconditional surrender, however, for Laurie knew where to have him.

  “Young man, when I first had the honor of making your acquaintance you hit me in the face: now I demand the satisfaction of a gentleman,” and with that the tall uncle proceeded to toss and tousle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul.

  “Blest if she ain’t in silk from head to foot? Ain’t it a relishin’ sight to see her settin�
�� there as fine as a fiddle, and hear folks calling little Amy, Mis. Laurence?” muttered old Hannah, who could not resist frequent peeks through the slide as she set the table in a most decidedly promiscuous manner.

  Mercy on us, how they did talk! First one, then the other, then all burst put together, trying to tell the history of three years in half an hour. It was fortunate that tea was at hand, to produce a lull and provide refreshment, for they would have been hoarse and faint if they had gone on much longer. Such a happy procession as filed away into the little dining room! Mr. March proudly escorted “Mrs. Laurence.” Mrs. March as proudly leaned on the arm of “my son.” The old gentleman took Jo, with a whispered “You must be my girl now,” and a glance at the empty corner by the fire, that made Jo whisper back, with trembling lips, “I’ll try to fill her place sir.”

  The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand, for everyone was so busy with the newcomers that they were left to revel at their own sweet will, and you may be sure they made the most of the opportunity. Didn’t they steal sips of tea, stuff gingerbread ad libitum,[310] get a hot biscuit apiece, and, as a crowning trespass, didn’t they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets, there to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them that both human nature and pastry are frail? Burdened with the guilty consciousness of the sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo’s sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise of cambric and merino which hid their booty, the little sinners attached themselves to “Dranpa,” who hadn’t his spectacles on. Amy, who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the parlor on Father Laurence’s arm; the others paired off as before, and this arrangement left Jo companionless. She did not mind it at the minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah’s eager inquiry.

  “Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (coupe), and use all them lovely silver dishes that’s stored away over yander?”

  “Shouldn’t wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and wore diamonds and point lace[311] every day. Teddy thinks nothing too good for her,” returned Jo with infinite satisfaction.

  “No more there is! Will you have hash or fishballs for breakfast?” asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose.

  “I don’t care,” And Jo shut the door, feeling that food was an uncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party vanishing above, and, as Demi’s short plaid legs toiled up the last stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, “I’ll weep a little weep when I go to bed; it won’t do to be dismal now.” Then she drew her hand over her eyes – for one of her boyish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was – and had just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the porch door.

  She opened it with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.

  “Oh, Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!” cried Jo, with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.

  “And I to see Miss Marsch – but no, you haf a party – ” And the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them.

  “No, we haven‘t, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us.”

  Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day; but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.

  “If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop,[312] I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?”

  He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.

  “Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last.”

  “Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that.” And he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.

  “Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer,” she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish.

  If the stranger had had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo’s sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts, and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even the more friendly because he was poor; for poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and, when it opens, finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest’s benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.

  If Jo had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie’s behavior would have amused her; for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like suspicion, caused that gentleman to stand aloof at first, and observe the newcomer with brotherly circumspection. But it did not last long. He got interested in spite of himself, and, before he knew it, was drawn into the circle; for Mr. Bhaer talked well in this genial atmosphere, and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often, and a shadow would pass across his face, as if regretting his own lost youth, as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eye would turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute inquiry if she had seen it; but Jo had her own eyes to take care of, and, feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden aunt.

  A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips of fresh water after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps showed her several propitious omens. Mr. Bhaer’s face had lost the absent-minded expression, and looked all alive with interest in the present moment, actually young and handsome, she thought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she usually did strange men, to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired, though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the conversation had strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic. Jo quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched in an argument, and thought to herself, as she watched her father’s absorbed face, “How he would enjoy having such a man as my Professor to talk with every day!” Lastly, Mr. Bhaer was dressed in a new suit of black, which made him look more like a gentleman than ever. His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed, but didn’t stay in order long, for, in exciting moments, he rumpled it up in the droll way he used to do; and Jo liked it rampantly erect better than flat, because she thought it gave his fine forehead a Jove-like[313] aspect. Poor Jo, how she did glorify that plain man, as she sat knitting away so quietly, yet letting nothing escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bhaer actually had gold sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wristbands.

  “Dear old fellow! He couldn’t have got himself up with more care if he’d been going a-wooing,” said Jo to herself, and then a sudden thought born of the words made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her ball, and go down after
it to hide her face.

  The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected, however, for though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral pile, the Professor dropped his torch, metaphorically speaking, and made a dive after the little blue ball. Of course they bumped their heads smartly together, saw stars, and both came up flushed and laughing, without the ball, to resume their seats, wishing they had not left them.

  Nobody knew where the evening went to, for Hannah skillfully abstracted[314] the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr. Laurence went home to rest. The others sat round the fire, talking away, utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg, whose maternal mind was impressed with a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi set his nightgown afire studying the structure of matches, made a move to go.

  “We must have our sing, in the good old way, for we are all together again once more,” said Jo, feeling that a good shout would be a safe and pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions of her soul.

  They were not all there. But no one found the words thoughtless or untrue; for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence, invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not break the household league that love made dissoluble. The little chair stood in its old place; the tidy basket, with the bit of work she left unfinished when the needle grew “so heavy,” was still on its accustomed shelf; the beloved instrument, seldom touched now had not been moved; and above it Beth’s face, serene and smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon them, seeming to say, “Be happy. I am here.”