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

Mr. Laurence’s ruddy face changed suddenly, and he sat down, with a troubled glance at the picture of a handsome man, which hung over his table. It was Laurie’s father, who had run away in his youth, and married against the imperious old man’s will. Jo fancied he remembered and regretted the past, and she wished she had held her tongue.

“He won’t do it unless he is very much worried, and only threatens it sometimes, when he gets tired of studying. I often think I should like to, especially since my hair was cut; so, if you ever miss us, you may advertise for two boys, and look among the ships bound for India.”

She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently taking the whole as a joke.

“You hussy, how dare you talk in that way? Where’s your respect for me, and your proper bringing up? Bless the boys and girls! What torments they are; yet we can’t do without them,” he said, pinching her cheeks good-humoredly. “Go and bring that boy down to his dinner, tell him it’s all right, and advise him not to put on tragedy airs with his grandfather. I won’t bear it.”

“He won’t come, sir; he feels badly because you didn’t believe him when he said he couldn’t tell. I think the shaking hurt his feelings very much.”

Jo tried to look pathetic, but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began to laugh, and she knew the day was won.

“I’m sorry for that, and ought to thank him for not shaking me, I suppose. What the dickens does the fellow expect?” and the old gentleman looked a trifle ashamed of his own testiness.

“If I were you, I’d write him an apology, sir. He says he won’t come down till he has one, and talks about Washington, and goes on in an absurd way. A formal apology will make him see how foolish he is, and bring him down quite amiable. Try it; he likes fun, and this way is better than talking. I’ll carry it up, and teach him his duty.”

Mr. Laurence gave her a sharp look, and put on his spectacles, saying slowly, “You’re a sly puss, but I don’t mind being managed by you and Beth. Here, give me a bit of paper, and let us have done with this nonsense.”

The note was written in the terms which one gentleman would use to another after offering some deep insult. Jo dropped a kiss on the top of Mr. Laurence’s bald head, and ran up to slip the apology under Laurie’s door, advising him, through the keyhole, to be submissive, decorous, and a few other agreeable impossibilities. Finding the door locked again, she left the note to do its work, and was going quietly away, when the young gentleman slid down the banisters, and waited for her at the bottom, saying, with his most virtuous expression of countenance, “What a good fellow you are, Jo! Did you get blown up?” he added, laughing.

“No; he was pretty mild, on the whole.”

“Ah! I got it all round; even you cast me off over there, and I felt just ready to go to the deuce,” he began apologetically.

“Don’t talk in that way; turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, my son.”

“I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end,” he said dolefully.

“Go and eat your dinner; you’ll feel better after it. Men always croak when they are hungry,” and Jo whisked out at the front door after that.

“That’s a ‘label’ on my ‘sect,’ ” answered Laurie, quoting Amy, as he went to partake of humble-pie dutifully with his grandfather, who was quite saintly in temper and overwhelmingly respectful in manner all the rest of the day.

Everyone thought the matter ended and the little cloud blown over; but the mischief was done, for, though others forgot it, Meg remembered. She never alluded to a certain person, but she thought of him a good deal, dreamed dreams more than ever; and once Jo, rummaging her sister’s desk for stamps, found a bit of paper scribbled over with the words, “Mrs. John Brooke;” whereat she groaned tragically, and cast it into the fire, feeling that Laurie’s prank had hastened the evil day for her.

Like sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. March began to talk of returning early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats, at first, and, in time, with doll’s sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her once active limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her a daily airing about the house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burnt her white hands cooking delicate messes for “the dear;” while Amy, a loyal slave of the ring, celebrated her return by giving away as many of her treasures as she could prevail on her sisters to accept.

As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the house, and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly impossible or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honor of this unusually merry Christmas. Laurie was equally impracticable, and would have had bonfires, skyrockets, and triumphal arches, if he had had his own way. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered effectually quenched, and went about with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together.

Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid Christmas Day. Hannah “felt in her bones” that it was going to be an unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess, for everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success. To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them; then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being