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Chapter 9 Meg Goes to Vanity Fair I do think it was the most fortunate thing in the world that those children should have the measles just now,
Said Meg one April day as she stood packing the go-abroady trunk in her room,
Surrounded by her sisters.
And so nice of Annie Moffat not to forget her promise.
A whole fortnight of fun will be regularly splendid,
Replied Jo,
Looking like a windmill as she folded skirts with her long arms.
And such lovely weather,
I'm glad of that,
Added Beth,
Tidily sorting neck and hair ribbons in her best box,
Lent for the great occasion.
I wish I was going to have a fine time and wear all these nice things,
Said Amy,
With her mouth full of pins,
As she artistically replenished her sister's cushion.
I wish you were all going,
But as you can't,
I shall keep my adventures to tell you when I come back.
I'm sure it's the least I can do,
When you've been so kind lending me things and helping me get ready,
Said Meg.
What did mother give you out of the treasure box,
Asked Amy,
Who had not been present at the opening of a certain cedar chest in which Mrs March kept a few relics of past splendour.
A pair of silk stockings,
The pretty car fan,
And a lovely blue sash.
I wanted the violet silk,
But there isn't time to make it over,
So I must be contented with my old tarlatan.
It'll look nicely over my new muslin skirt,
And the sash has set it off beautifully.
Wish I hadn't smashed my coral bracelet,
For you might have had it,
Said Jo,
Who loved to give and lend,
But whose possessions were usually too dilapidated to be of much use.
There's a lovely old-fashioned pearl set in the treasure box,
But mother says real flowers are the prettiest ornaments for a young girl,
And Laurie promised to send me all I want,
Replied Meg.
Now,
Let me see,
There's my new grey walking suit.
Just curl up the feather in my hat,
Beth,
Then my poplin for Sunday,
And the small party.
It looks heavy for spring,
Doesn't it?
The violet silk will be so nice,
Oh dear.
Never mind,
You've got the tarlatan for the big party,
And you always look like an angel in white,
Said Amy,
Brooding over the little store of finery in which her soul delighted.
Meg sighed.
It isn't low-necked,
And it doesn't sweep enough,
But it'll have to do.
My blue house dress looks so well turned out and freshly trimmed,
I feel as if I've got a new one.
My silk sack isn't a bit the fashion,
And my bonnet doesn't look like Sally's.
I didn't like to say anything,
But I was sadly disappointed in my umbrella.
I told mother black with a white handle,
But she forgot and bought a green one with a yellowish handle.
It's strong and neat,
So I ought not to complain,
But I know I shall feel ashamed of it,
Besides Annie's silk one with a gold top.
Change it then,
Advised Jo.
I won't be so silly or hurt Marmee's feelings when she took so much pains to get my things.
It's a nonsensical notion of mine,
And I'm not going to give up to it.
My silk stockings and two pairs of new gloves are my comfort.
You are a dear to lend me yours,
Jo.
I feel so rich and sort of elegant with two new pairs,
And the old ones cleaned up for common.
Meg took a refreshing peep at her glove box.
Annie Moffat has blue and pink bows on her nightcaps.
Would you put some on mine?
She asked,
As Beth brought up a pile of snowy muslins,
Fresh from Hannah's hands.
No,
I wouldn't,
But the smartcaps won't match the plain gowns without any trimming on them,
Said Jo decidedly.
Poor folks shouldn't rig.
I wonder if I shall ever be happy enough to have real lace on my clothes and bows on my caps,
Said Meg.
You said the other day you'd be perfectly happy if you could only go to Annie Moffat's,
Observed Beth in her quiet way.
So I did.
Well,
I am happy and I won't fret,
But it does seem the more one gets,
The more one wants,
Doesn't it?
There now,
The trays are ready.
Everything in but my ball dress,
Which I shall leave for Mother to pack,
Said Meg,
Cheering up,
As she glanced from the half-filled truck to the many times pressed and mended white tarlatan,
Which she called her ball dress,
With an important air.
The next day was fine,
And Meg departed in style for a fortnight of novelty and pleasure.
Mrs March consented to the visit rather reluctantly,
Feeling that Margaret would come back more discontented than she went.
But she had begged so hard,
And Sally had promised to take good care of her,
And a little pleasure seemed so delightful after a winter of irksome work,
That the mother yielded and the daughter went to take her first taste of fashionable life.
The Moffitts were very fashionable,
And simple Meg was rather daunted at first by the splendour of the house and the elegance of its occupants,
But they were kindly people in spite of the frivolous life they led,
And they soon put their guest at her ease.
Perhaps Meg felt,
Without understanding why,
They were not particularly cultivated or intelligent people,
And that all their gilding could not quite conceal the ordinary material of which they were made.
It certainly was agreeable to fare sumptuously,
Drive in a fine carriage,
Wear her best frock every day,
And do nothing but enjoy herself.
It suited her exactly,
And soon she began to imitate the manners and conversation of about her,
To put on little airs and graces,
Use French phrases,
Crimp her hair,
Take in her dresses,
And talk about fashions as well as she could.
The more she saw of Annie Moffitt's pretty things,
The more she envied her and sighed to be rich.
Home now looked bare and dismal as she thought of it,
Work grew harder than ever,
And she felt that she was a very destitute and much-injured girl,
In spite of the new gloves and silk stockings.
She had not much time for repining,
However,
For the three young girls were busily employed in having a good time.
They shopped,
Walked,
Rode and called all day,
Went to theatres and operas,
Or frolicked at home in the evening,
For Annie had many friends and knew how to entertain them.
Her older sisters were very fine young ladies,
And one was engaged,
Which was extremely interesting and romantic,
Meg thought.
Mr Moffitt was a fat,
Jolly old gentleman who knew her father,
And Mrs Moffitt a fat,
Jolly old lady who took as great a fancy to Meg as her daughter had done.
Everyone petted her,
And Daisy,
As they called her,
Was in a fair way to have her head turned.
When the evening for the small party came,
She found the poplin wouldn't do at all,
For the other girls were putting on thin dresses and making themselves very fine indeed.
So out came the Tarleton,
Looking older,
Limper and shabbier than ever,
Besides Sally's crisp new one.
Meg saw the girls glance at it and then at one another,
And her cheeks began to burn,
For with all her gentleness she was very proud.
No one said a word about it,
But Sally offered to dress her hair and Annie to tie her sash,
And Belle,
The engaged sister,
Praised her white arms.
But in their kindness Meg only saw pity for her poverty,
And her heart felt very heavy as she stood by herself while the others laughed,
Chatted and flew about like gauzy butterflies.
The hard bitter feeling was getting pretty bad when the maid brought in a box of flowers.
Before she could speak Annie had the cover off and all were exclaiming at the lovely roses,
Heath and ferns within.
It's for Belle of course,
George always sends her some,
But these are all together ravishing,
Cried Annie with a great sniff.
They're for Miss Mulch,
The man said,
And here's a note.
What fun!
Who are they from?
Didn't know you had a lover,
Cried the girls,
Fluttering around Meg in a high state of curiosity and surprise.
The note is from Mother and the flower's from Laurie,
Said Meg simply,
Yet much gratified he had not forgotten her.
Winterheat,
Said Annie with a funny look,
As Meg slipped the note in her pocket,
As a sort of talisman against envy,
Vanity and false pride.
For the few loving words had done her good,
And the flowers cheered her up by their beauty.
Feeling almost happy again,
She laid by a few ferns and roses for herself and quickly made up the rest in dainty bouquets for the breasts,
Hair or skirts of her friends,
Offering them so prettily that Clara,
The elder sister,
Told her she was the sweetest little thing she ever saw,
And they looked quite charmed with her small attention.
Somehow this kind act,
Finished makes despondency,
And when all the rest went to show themselves to Mrs Moffat,
She saw a happy,
Bright-eyed face in the mirror as she laid her ferns against her rippling hair and fastened the roses in the dress that didn't strike her as so very shabby now.
Meg enjoyed herself very much that evening.
She danced to her heart's content.
She had three compliments,
And Annie made her sing.
Someone said she had a remarkably fine voice.
Major Lincoln asked who the fresh little girl with the beautiful eyes was,
And Mr Moffat insisted on dancing with her because she didn't dawdle but had some spring in her,
As he gracefully expressed it.
So all together,
Meg had a very nice time,
Right up until she overheard a bit of conversation which disturbed her extremely.
