Little Women. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

I had a delicious redowa with him.«

      »He looked like a grasshopper in a fit when he did the new step. Laurie and I couldn’t help laughing. Did you hear us?«

      »No, but it was very rude. What were you about all that time, hidden away there?«

      Jo told her adventures, and by the time she had finished they were at home. With many thanks, they said good night and crept in, hoping to disturb no one, but the instant their door creaked, two little nightcaps bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cried out...

      »Tell about the party! Tell about the party!«

      With what Meg called ›a great want of manners‹ Jo had saved some bonbons for the little girls, and they soon subsided, after hearing the most thrilling events of the evening.

      »I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady, to come home from the party in a carriage and sit in my dressing gown with a maid to wait on me,« said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot with arnica and brushed her hair.

      »I don’t believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burned hair, old gowns, one glove apiece and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them.« And I think Jo was quite right.

      Burdens

      »Oh, dear, how hard it does seem to take up our packs and go on,« sighed Meg the morning after the party, for now the holidays were over, the week of merrymaking did not fit her for going on easily with the task she never liked.

      »I wish it was Christmas or New Year’s all the time. Wouldn’t it be fun?« answered Jo, yawning dismally.

      »We shouldn’t enjoy ourselves half so much as we do now. But it does seem so nice to have little suppers and bouquets, and go to parties, and drive home, and read and rest, and not work. It’s like other people, you know, and I always envy girls who do such things, I’m so fond of luxury,« said Meg, trying to decide which of two shabby gowns was the least shabby.

      »Well, we can’t have it, so don’t let us grumble but shoulder our bundles and trudge along as cheerfully as Marmee does. I’m sure Aunt March is a regular Old Man of the Sea to me, but I suppose when I’ve learned to carry her without complaining, she will tumble off, or get so light that I shan’t mind her.«

      This idea tickled Jo’s fancy and put her in good spirits, but Meg didn’t brighten, for her burden, consisting of four spoiled children, seemed heavier than ever. She had not heart enough even to make herself pretty as usual by putting on a blue neck ribbon and dressing her hair in the most becoming way.

      »Where’s the use of looking nice, when no one sees me but those cross midgets, and no one cares whether I’m pretty or not?« she muttered, shutting her drawer with a jerk. »I shall have to toil and moil all my days, with only little bits of fun now and then, and get old and ugly and sour, because I’m poor and can’t enjoy my life as other girls do. It’s a shame!«

      So Meg went down, wearing an injured look, and wasn’t at all agreeable at breakfast time. Everyone seemed rather out of sorts and inclined to croak.

      Beth had a headache and lay on the sofa, trying to comfort herself with the cat and three kittens. Amy was fretting because her lessons were not learned, and she couldn’t find her rubbers. Jo would whistle and make a great racket getting ready.

      Mrs. March was very busy trying to finish a letter, which must go at once, and Hannah had the grumps, for being up late didn’t suit her.

      »There never was such a cross family!« cried Jo, losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand, broken both boot lacings, and sat down upon her hat.

      »You’re the crossest person in it!« returned Amy, washing out the sum that was all wrong with the tears that had fallen on her slate.

      »Beth, if you don’t keep these horrid cats down cellar I’ll have them drowned,« exclaimed Meg angrily as she tried to get rid of the kitten which had scrambled up her back and stuck like a burr just out of reach.

      Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, and Amy wailed because she couldn’t remember how much nine times twelve was.

      »Girls, girls, do be quiet one minute! I must get this off by the early mail, and you drive me distracted with your worry,« cried Mrs. March, crossing out the third spoiled sentence in her letter.

      There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who stalked in, laid two hot turnovers on the table, and stalked out again. These turnovers were an institution, and the girls called them ›muffs‹, for they had no others and found the hot pies very comforting to their hands on cold mornings.

      Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how busy or grumpy she might be, for the walk was long and bleak. The poor things got no other lunch and were seldom home before two.

      »Cuddle your cats and get over your headache, Bethy. Goodbye, Marmee. We are a set of rascals this morning, but we’ll come home regular angels. Now then, Meg!« And Jo tramped away, feeling that the pilgrims were not setting out as they ought to do.

      They always looked back before turning the corner, for their mother was always at the window to nod and smile, and wave her hand to them. Somehow it seemed as if they couldn’t have got through the day without that, for whatever their mood might be, the last glimpse of that motherly face was sure to affect them like sunshine.

      »If Marmee shook her fist instead of kissing her hand to us, it would serve us right, for more ungrateful wretches than we are were never seen,« cried Jo, taking a remorseful satisfaction in the snowy walk and bitter wind.

      »Don’t use such dreadful expressions,« replied Meg from the depths of the veil in which she had shrouded herself like a nun sick of the world.

      »I like good strong words that mean something,« replied Jo, catching her hat as it took a leap off her head preparatory to flying away altogether.

      »Call yourself any names you like, but I am neither a rascal nor a wretch and I don’t choose to be called so.«

      »You’re a blighted being, and decidedly cross today because you can’t sit in the lap of luxury all the time. Poor dear, just wait till I make my fortune, and you shall revel in carriages and ice cream and high-heeled slippers, and posies, and red-headed boys to dance with.«

      »How ridiculous you are, Jo!« But Meg laughed at the nonsense and felt better in spite of herself.

      »Lucky for you I am, for if I put on crushed airs and tried to be dismal, as you do, we should be in a nice state. Thank goodness, I can always find something funny to keep me up. Don’t croak any more, but come home jolly, there’s a dear.«

      Jo gave her sister an encouraging pat on the shoulder as they parted for the day, each going a different way, each hugging her little warm turnover, and each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry weather, hard work, and the unsatisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth.

      When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help an unfortunate friend, the two oldest girls begged to be allowed to do something toward their own support, at least. Believing that they could not begin too early to cultivate energy, industry, and independence, their parents consented, and both fell to work with the hearty good will which in spite of all obstacles is sure to succeed at last.

      Margaret found a place as nursery governess and felt rich with her small salary. As she said, she was ›fond of luxury‹, and her chief trouble was poverty. She found it harder to bear than the others because she could remember a time when home was beautiful, life full of ease and pleasure, and want of any kind unknown. She tried not to be envious or discontented, but it was very natural that the young girl should long for pretty things, gay friends, accomplishments, and a happy life. At the Kings‹ she daily saw all she wanted, for the children’s older sisters were just out, and Meg caught frequent glimpses of dainty ball dresses and bouquets,