Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (e books free to read TXT) 📕

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 a 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.

“O 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 manage 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, exclaiming, with a laugh⁠—

“You are almost equal to Caroline Percy, who was a pattern of prudence! Tell on, Meg. What did he say to that?”

“He writes in a different way entirely, telling me that he never sent any love-letter at all, and is very sorry that my roguish sister, Jo, should take such liberties with our names. It’s very kind and respectful, but think how dreadful for me!”

Meg leaned against her mother, looking the image of despair, and Jo tramped about the room, calling Laurie names. All of a sudden she stopped, caught up the two notes, and, after looking at them closely, said decidedly, “I don’t believe Brooke ever saw either of these letters. Teddy wrote both, and keeps yours to crow over me with, because I wouldn’t tell him my secret.”

“Don’t have any secrets, Jo; tell it to mother, and keep out of trouble, as I should have done,” said Meg warningly.

“Bless you, child! Mother told me.”

“That will do, Jo. I’ll comfort Meg while you go and get Laurie. I shall sift the matter to the bottom, and put a stop to such pranks at once.”

Away ran Jo, and Mrs. March gently told Meg Mr. Brooke’s real feelings. “Now, dear, what are your own? Do you love him enough to wait till he can make a home for you, or will you keep yourself quite free for the present?”

“I’ve been so scared and worried, I don’t want to have anything to do with lovers for a long while⁠—perhaps never,” answered Meg petulantly. “If John doesn’t know anything about this nonsense, don’t tell him, and make Jo and Laurie hold their tongues. I won’t be deceived and plagued and made a fool of⁠—it’s a shame!”

Seeing that Meg’s usually gentle temper was roused and her pride hurt by this mischievous joke, Mrs. March soothed her by promises of entire silence, and great discretion for the future. The instant Laurie’s step was heard in the hall, Meg fled into the study, and Mrs. March received the culprit alone. Jo had not told him why he was wanted, fearing he wouldn’t come; but he knew the minute he saw Mrs. March’s face, and stood twirling his hat, with a guilty air which convicted him at once. Jo was dismissed, but chose to march up and down the hall like a sentinel, having some fear that the prisoner might bolt. The sound of voices in the parlor rose and fell for half an hour; but what happened during that interview the girls never knew.

When they were called in, Laurie was standing by their mother, with such a penitent face that Jo forgave him on the spot, but did not think it wise to betray the fact. Meg received his humble apology, and was much comforted by