第 十六 章 · LETTERS

. LETTERS

In the cold gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp and read their chapter

with an earnestness never felt before. For now the shadow of a real

trouble had come, the little books were full of help and comfort, and

as they dressed, they agreed to say goodbye cheerfully and hopefully,

and send their mother on her anxious journey unsaddened by tears or

complaints from them. Everything seemed very strange when they went

down, so dim and still outside, so full of light and bustle within.

Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even Hannah’s familiar

face looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen with her nightcap

on. The big trunk stood ready in the hall, Mother’s cloak and bonnet

lay on the sofa, and Mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so

pale and worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it

very hard to keep their resolution. Meg’s eyes kept filling in spite of

herself, Jo was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more

than once, and the little girls wore a grave, troubled expression, as

if sorrow was a new experience to them.

Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near and they sat waiting

for the carriage, Mrs. March said to the girls, who were all busied

about her, one folding her shawl, another smoothing out the strings of

her bonnet, a third putting on her overshoes, and a fourth fastening up

her travelling bag...

“Children, I leave you to Hannah’s care and Mr. Laurence’s protection.

Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbor will guard you as

if you were his own. I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you

should take this trouble rightly. Don’t grieve and fret when I am gone,

or think that you can be idle and comfort yourselves by being idle and

trying to forget. Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed

solace. Hope and keep busy, and whatever happens, remember that you

never can be fatherless.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Meg, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, consult Hannah, and in

any perplexity, go to Mr. Laurence. Be patient, Jo, don’t get

despondent or do rash things, write to me often, and be my brave girl,

ready to help and cheer all. Beth, comfort yourself with your music,

and be faithful to the little home duties, and you, Amy, help all you

can, be obedient, and keep happy safe at home.”

“We will, Mother! We will!”

The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen.

That was the hard minute, but the girls stood it well. No one cried, no

one ran away or uttered a lamentation, though their hearts were very

heavy as they sent loving messages to Father, remembering, as they

spoke that it might be too late to deliver them. They kissed their

mother quietly, clung about her tenderly, and tried to wave their hands

cheerfully when she drove away.

Laurie and his grandfather came over to see her off, and Mr. Brooke

looked so strong and sensible and kind that the girls christened him

‘Mr. Greatheart’ on the spot.

“Good-by, my darlings! God bless and keep us all!” whispered Mrs.

March, as she kissed one dear little face after the other, and hurried

into the carriage.

As she rolled away, the sun came out, and looking back, she saw it

shining on the group at the gate like a good omen. They saw it also,

and smiled and waved their hands, and the last thing she beheld as she

turned the corner was the four bright faces, and behind them like a

bodyguard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful Hannah, and devoted Laurie.

“How kind everyone is to us!” she said, turning to find fresh proof of

it in the respectful sympathy of the young man’s face.

“I don’t see how they can help it,” returned Mr. Brooke, laughing so

infectiously that Mrs. March could not help smiling. And so the journey

began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful words.

“I feel as if there had been an earthquake,” said Jo, as their

neighbors went home to breakfast, leaving them to rest and refresh

themselves.

“It seems as if half the house was gone,” added Meg forlornly.

Beth opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile

of nicely mended hose which lay on Mother’s table, showing that even in

her last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them. It was a

little thing, but it went straight to their hearts, and in spite of

their brave resolutions, they all broke down and cried bitterly.

Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings, and when the

shower showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with

a coffeepot.

“Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don’t fret.

Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let’s fall to work

and be a credit to the family.”

Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that

morning. No one could resist her persuasive nods, or the fragrant

invitation issuing from the nose of the coffee pot. They drew up to the

table, exchanged their handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes

were all right again.

“‘Hope and keep busy’, that’s the motto for us, so let’s see who will

remember it best. I shall go to Aunt March, as usual. Oh, won’t she

lecture though!” said Jo, as she sipped with returning spirit.

“I shall go to my Kings, though I’d much rather stay at home and attend

to things here,” said Meg, wishing she hadn’t made her eyes so red.

“No need of that. Beth and I can keep house perfectly well,” put in

Amy, with an important air.

“Hannah will tell us what to do, and we’ll have everything nice when

you come home,” added Beth, getting out her mop and dish tub without

delay.

“I think anxiety is very interesting,” observed Amy, eating sugar

pensively.

The girls couldn’t help laughing, and felt better for it, though Meg

shook her head at the young lady who could find consolation in a sugar

bowl.

The sight of the turnovers made Jo sober again; and when the two went

out to their daily tasks, they looked sorrowfully back at the window

where they were accustomed to see their mother’s face. It was gone, but

Beth had remembered the little household ceremony, and there she was,

nodding away at them like a rosyfaced mandarin.

“That’s so like my Beth!” said Jo, waving her hat, with a grateful

face. “Goodbye, Meggy, I hope the Kings won’t strain today. Don’t fret

about Father, dear,” she added, as they parted.

“And I hope Aunt March won’t croak. Your hair is becoming, and it looks

very boyish and nice,” returned Meg, trying not to smile at the curly

head, which looked comically small on her tall sister’s shoulders.

“That’s my only comfort.” And, touching her hat a la Laurie, away went

Jo, feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day.

News from their father comforted the girls very much, for though

dangerously ill, the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had

already done him good. Mr. Brooke sent a bulletin every day, and as the

head of the family, Meg insisted on reading the dispatches, which grew

more cheerful as the week passed. At first, everyone was eager to

write, and plump envelopes were carefully poked into the letter box by

one or other of the sisters, who felt rather important with their

Washington correspondence. As one of these packets contained

characteristic notes from the party, we will rob an imaginary mail, and

read them.

My dearest Mother:

It is impossible to tell you how happy your last letter made us, for

the news was so good we couldn’t help laughing and crying over it. How

very kind Mr. Brooke is, and how fortunate that Mr. Laurence’s business

detains him near you so long, since he is so useful to you and Father.

The girls are all as good as gold. Jo helps me with the sewing, and

insists on doing all sorts of hard jobs. I should be afraid she might

overdo, if I didn’t know her ‘moral fit’ wouldn’t last long. Beth is as

regular about her tasks as a clock, and never forgets what you told

her. She grieves about Father, and looks sober except when she is at

her little piano. Amy minds me nicely, and I take great care of her.

She does her own hair, and I am teaching her to make buttonholes and

mend her stockings. She tries very hard, and I know you will be pleased

with her improvement when you come. Mr. Laurence watches over us like a

motherly old hen, as Jo says, and Laurie is very kind and neighborly.

He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue sometimes, and feel

like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint. She does

not scold at all, and always calls me Miss Margaret, which is quite

proper, you know, and treats me with respect. We are all well and busy,

but we long, day and night, to have you back. Give my dearest love to

Father, and believe me, ever your own...

MEG

This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to

the next, which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper,

ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed

letters.

My precious Marmee:

Three cheers for dear Father! Brooke was a trump to telegraph right

off, and let us know the minute he was better. I rushed up garret when

the letter came, and tried to thank God for being so good to us, but I

could only cry, and say, “I’m glad! I’m glad!” Didn’t that do as well

as a regular prayer? For I felt a great many in my heart. We have such

funny times, and now I can enjoy them, for everyone is so desperately

good, it’s like living in a nest of turtledoves. You’d laugh to see Meg

head the table and try to be motherish. She gets prettier every day,

and I’m in love with her sometimes. The children are regular

archangels, and I—well, I’m Jo, and never shall be anything else. Oh, I

must tell you that I came near having a quarrel with Laurie. I freed my

mind about a silly little thing, and he was offended. I was right, but

didn’t speak as I ought, and he marched home, saying he wouldn’t come

again till I begged pardon. I declared I wouldn’t and got mad. It

lasted all day. I felt bad and wanted you very much. Laurie and I are

both so proud, it’s hard to beg pardon. But I thought he’d come to it,

for I was in the right. He didn’t come, and just at night I remembered

what you said when Amy fell into the river. I read my little book, felt

better, resolved not to let the sun set on my anger, and ran over to

tell Laurie I was sorry. I met him at the gate, coming for the same

thing. We both laughed, begged each other’s pardon, and felt all good

and comfortable again.

I made a ‘pome’ yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash, and as

Father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him. Give him

my lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for

your...

TOPSY-TURVY JO

A SONG FROM THE SUDS

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,

While the white foam rises high,

And sturdily wash and rinse and wring,

And fasten the clothes to dry.

Then out in the free fresh air they swing,

Under the sunny sky.

I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls

The stains of the week away,

And let water and air by their magic make

Ourselves as pure as they.

Then on the earth there would be indeed,

A glorious washing day!

Along the path of a useful life,

Will heart’s-ease ever bloom.

The busy mind has no time to think

Of sorrow or care or gloom.

And anxious thoughts may be swept away,

As we bravely wield a broom.

I am glad a task to me is given,

To labor at day by day,

For it brings me health and strength and hope,

And I cheerfully learn to say,

“Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel,

But, Hand, you shall work alway!”

Dear Mother,

There is only room for me to send my love, and some pressed pansies

from the root I have been keeping safe in the house for Father to see.

I read every morning, try to be good all day, and sing myself to sleep

with Father’s tune. I can’t sing ‘LAND OF THE LEAL’ now, it makes me

cry. Everyone is very kind, and we are as happy as we can be without

you. Amy wants the rest of the page, so I must stop. I didn’t forget to

cover the holders, and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day.

Kiss dear Father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your

loving...

LITTLE BETH

Ma Chere Mamma,

We are all well I do my lessons always and never corroberate the

girls—Meg says I mean contradick so I put in both words and you can

take the properest. Meg is a great comfort to me and lets me have jelly

every night at tea its so good for me Jo says because it keeps me sweet

tempered. Laurie is not as respeckful as he ought to be now I am almost

in my teens, he calls me Chick and hurts my feelings by talking French

to me very fast when I say Merci or Bon jour as Hattie King does. The

sleeves of my blue dress were all worn out, and Meg put in new ones,

but the full front came wrong and they are more blue than the dress. I

felt bad but did not fret I bear my troubles well but I do wish Hannah

would put more starch in my aprons and have buckwheats every day. Can’t

she? Didn’t I make that interrigation point nice? Meg says my

punchtuation and spelling are disgraceful and I am mortyfied but dear

me I have so many things to do, I can’t stop. Adieu, I send heaps of

love to Papa. Your affectionate daughter...

AMY CURTIS MARCH

Dear Mis March,

I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is clever and

fly round right smart. Miss Meg is going to make a proper good

housekeeper. She hes the liking for it, and gits the hang of things

surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all for goin ahead, but she don’t stop to

cal’k’late fust, and you never know where she’s like to bring up. She

done out a tub of clothes on Monday, but she starched ’em afore they

was wrenched, and blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should a

died a laughin. Beth is the best of little creeters, and a sight of

help to me, bein so forehanded and dependable. She tries to learn

everything, and really goes to market beyond her years, likewise keeps

accounts, with my help, quite wonderful. We have got on very economical

so fur. I don’t let the girls hev coffee only once a week, accordin to

your wish, and keep em on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does well

without frettin, wearin her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff. Mr.

Laurie is as full of didoes as usual, and turns the house upside down

frequent, but he heartens the girls, so I let em hev full swing. The

old gentleman sends heaps of things, and is rather wearin, but means

wal, and it aint my place to say nothin. My bread is riz, so no more at

this time. I send my duty to Mr. March, and hope he’s seen the last of

his Pewmonia.

Yours respectful,

Hannah Mullet

Head Nurse of Ward No. 2,

All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition, commisary

department well conducted, the Home Guard under Colonel Teddy always on

duty, Commander in Chief General Laurence reviews the army daily,

Quartermaster Mullet keeps order in camp, and Major Lion does picket

duty at night. A salute of twenty-four guns was fired on receipt of

good news from Washington, and a dress parade took place at

headquarters. Commander in chief sends best wishes, in which he is

heartily joined by...

COLONEL TEDDY

Dear Madam:

The little girls are all well. Beth and my boy report daily. Hannah is

a model servant, and guards pretty Meg like a dragon. Glad the fine

weather holds. Pray make Brooke useful, and draw on me for funds if

expenses exceed your estimate. Don’t let your husband want anything.

Thank God he is mending.

Your sincere friend and servant, JAMES LAURENCE