Little Women Ch 44 & 45

LITTLE WOMEN by Louisa May Alcott CHAPTER 44 MY LORD AND LADY Please,

Madam Mother,

Can you lend me my wife for half an hour?

The luggage has come,

And I've been making hay of Amy's Paris finery,

Trying to find some things I want,

Said Laurie,

Coming in the next day to find Miss Lawrence sitting in her mother's lap,

As if being made the baby again.

Certainly.

Go,

Dear,

I forgot that you have any home but this.

And Miss March pressed the white hand that wore the wedding ring,

As if asking pardon for her maternal covetousness.

I shouldn't have come over if I could have helped it,

But I can't get on without my little woman any more than a.

.

.

Better caught can without a wind,

Suggested Joe,

As he paused for a simile.

Joe had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home.

Exactly,

For Amy keeps me pointing due west most of the time,

With only an occasional whiffle round to the south,

And I haven't had an easterly spell since I was married.

Don't know anything about the north,

But I'm altogether salubrious and balmy,

Eh,

My lady?

Lovely weather so far.

I don't know how long it will last,

But I'm not afraid of storms,

For I'm learning how to sail my ship.

Come home,

Dear,

And I'll find your boot-jack.

I suppose that's what you're rummaging around among my things.

Men are so helpless,

Mother,

Said Amy,

With a matronly air which delighted her husband.

What are you going to do with yourselves after you get settled,

Asked Joe,

Buttoning Amy's cloak as she used to button her pinafores?

We have our plans.

We don't mean to say much about them yet,

Because we are such very new brooms,

But we don't intend to be idle.

I'm going into business with a devotion that shall delight grandfather,

And prove to him that I'm not spoiled.

I need something of the sort to keep me steady.

I'm tired of dawdling,

And mean to work like a man.

And Amy?

What is she going to do?

Asked Miss March,

Well pleased at Laurie's decision,

And the energy with which he spoke.

After doing the civil all around,

And airing our best bonnet,

We shall astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion,

The brilliant society we shall draw about us,

And the beneficial influence we shall exert over the world at large.

That's about it,

Isn't it,

Madam?

Asked Laurie,

With a quizzical look at Amy.

Time will show.

Come away,

Impertinence,

And don't shock my family by calling me names before their faces,

Answered Amy,

Resolving that there should be a home with a good wife in it,

Before she set up a salon as a queen of society.

How happy those children seemed together,

Observed Mr.

March,

Finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle,

After the young couple had gone.

Yes,

And I think it will last,

Added Miss March,

With the restful expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port.

I know it will,

Happy Amy.

And Joe sighed,

Then smiled brightly as Professor Bear opened the gate with an impatient push.

Later in the evening,

When his mind had been set at rest about the boot-jack,

Laurie said suddenly to his wife,

Miss Lawrence,

My lord,

That man intends to marry our Joe.

I hope so,

Don't you,

Dear?

Well,

My love,

I consider him a trump in the fullest sense of that expressive word,

But I do wish he was a little younger,

And a good deal richer.

Now Laurie,

Don't be too fastidious and worldly-minded.

If they love one another,

It doesn't matter a particle how old they are,

Nor how poor.

Women should never marry for money.

Amy caught herself up short as the words escaped her,

And looked at her husband,

Who replied with malicious gravity.

Certainly not,

Though you do hear charming girls say they intend to do it sometimes.

If my memory serves me,

You once thought it your duty to make a rich match.

That accounts,

Perhaps,

For you marrying a good-for-nothing like me.

Oh,

My dearest boy,

Don't,

Don't say that.

I forgot you were rich when I said yes,

I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny,

And I sometimes wish you were poor that I might show how much I love you.

And Amy,

Who was very dignified in public,

And very fond in private,

Gave convincing proofs of the truth of her words.

You don't really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be once,

Do you?

It would break my heart if you didn't believe that I'd gladly pull in the same boat with you,

Even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake.

Am I an idiot and a brute?

How could I think so,

When you refused a richer man for me?

And won't let me give you half I want to now,

When I have the right?

Fools do it every day,

Poor things,

And are taught to think it is their only salvation.

But you had better lessons,

And though I trembled for you at one time,

I was not disappointed,

For the daughter was true to the mother's teaching.

I told Mama so yesterday,

And she looked as glad and grateful as if I'd given her a check for a million to be spent in charity.

You're not listening to my moral remarks,

Miss Lawrence.

And Laurie paused,

For Amy's eyes had an absent look,

Though fixed upon his face.

Yes,

I am,

And admiring the mole in your chin at the same time.

I don't wish to make you vain,

But I must confess that I'm prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money.

Don't laugh,

But your nose is such a comfort to me,

And Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction.

Laurie had received many compliments in his life,

But never one that suited him better.

As he plainly showed,

Though,

He did laugh at his wife's peculiar taste,

While she said slowly,

May I ask you a question,

Dear?

Of course you may.

Shall you care if Joe does marry Mr.

Bear?

Oh,

That's the trouble,

Is it?

I thought there was something in the dimple that didn't quite suit you.

Not being a dog in the manger,

But the happiest fellow alive,

I assure you I can dance at Joe's wedding with the heart as light as my heels.

Do you doubt it,

My darling?

Amy looked up at him,

And was satisfied.

Her little jealous fear vanished forever,

And she thanked him with the full face of love and confidence.

I wish we could do something for that capital old professor.

Couldn't we invent a rich relation who shall obligingly die out there in Germany,

And leave him a tidy little fortune?

Said Laurie,

When they began to pace up and down the long drawing room,

Arm in arm,

As they were fond of doing,

In memory of the Chateau Garden.

Joe would find us out,

And spoil it all.

She's very proud of him,

Just as he is,

And said yesterday that she thought poverty was a beautiful thing.

Bless her dear heart,

She won't think so when she has a literary husband,

And a dozen little professors to support.

We won't interfere now,

But watch our chance,

And do them a good turn in spite of themselves.

I owe Joe for a part of my education,

And she believes in people's paying their honest debts,

So I'll get around to her in that way.

How delightful it is to be able to help others,

Isn't it?

That was always one of my dreams,

To have the power of giving freely,

And thanks to you,

The dream has come true.

Ah,

We'll do quantities of good,

Won't we?

There's one sort of poverty that I particularly like to help.

Out-and-out beggars get taken care of,

But poor gentlefolks fare badly,

Because they don't ask,

And people don't dare to offer charity.

Yet there are a thousand ways of helping them,

If one only knows how to do it so delicately that it does not offend.

I must say,

I like to serve a decayed gentleman better than a beggar.

I suppose it's wrong,

But I do,

Though it's harder.

Because it takes a gentleman to do it,

Added the other member of the Domestic Admiration Society.

Thank you,

I'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment,

But I was going to say that while I was dawdling out abroad,

I saw a good many talented young fellows making all sorts of sacrifices,

And enduring real hardships,

That they might realize their dreams.

Splendid fellows.

Some of them,

Working like heroes,

Poor and friendless,

But so full of courage,

Patience and ambition that I was ashamed of myself,

And longed to give them a right good lift.

Those are people whom it's a satisfaction to help,

For if they've got genius,

It's an honor to be allowed to serve them,

And not let it be lost,

Or delayed for want of fuel to keep the pot boiling.

If they haven't,

It's a pleasure to comfort the poor souls,

And keep them from despair when they find it out.

Yes,

Indeed,

And there's another class who can't ask,

And who suffer in silence.

I know something of it,

For I belonged to it before you made a princess of me,

As the king does the beggar maid in the old story.

Ambitious girls have a hard time,

Laurie,

And often have to see youth,

Health,

And precious opportunities go by,

Just for want of a little help at the right minute.

People have been very kind to me,

And whenever I see girls struggling along,

As we used to do,

I want to put out my hand and help them,

As I was helped.

And so you shall,

Like an angel as you are,

Cried Laurie,

Resolving with a glow of philanthropic zeal,

To follow and endow an institution for the express benefit of young women with artistic tendencies.

Rich people have no right to sit down and enjoy themselves,

Or let their money accumulate for others to waste.

It's not half so sensible to leave legacies when one dies,

As it is to use the money wisely while alive,

And enjoy making one's fellow creatures happy with it.

We'll have a good time ourselves,

And add an extra relish to our own pleasure by giving other people a generous taste.

Will you be a little dorkus,

Going about emptying a big bag of comforts and filling it up with good deeds?

With all my heart,

If you will be a brave Saint Martin,

Stopping as you ride gallantly through the world to share your cloak with the beggar,

It's a bargain,

And we shall get the best of it.

So the young pair shook hands upon it,

And then paced happily on again,

Feeling that their pleasant home was more home-like,

Because they hoped to brighten other homes,

Believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them,

If they smoothed rough ways for other feet,

And feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blessed than they.

Chapter 45 Daisy and Demi I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March family without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it.

Daisy and Demi had now arrived at years of discretion,

For in this fast age babies of three or four assert their rights,

And get them two which is more than many of their elders do.

If there were ever a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoiled by adoration,

It was these prattled brooks.

Of course they were the most remarkable children ever born,

As will be shown when I mention when they walked at eight months,

Talked fluently at twelve months,

And at two years they took their places at the table,

And behaved with a propriety which charmed all beholders.

At three Daisy demanded a needler,

And actually made a bag with four stitches in it.

She likewise set up housekeeping in the sideboard,

And managed a microscopic cooking stove with the skill that brought tears of pride to Hannah's eyes.

While Demi learned his letters with his grandfather,

Who invented a new mode of teaching the alphabet by forming letters with his arms and legs,

Thus uniting gymnastics for head and heels.

The boy early developed a mechanical genius which delighted his father and distracted his mother,

For he tried to imitate every machine he saw,

And kept the nursery in a chaotic condition,

With his sewn sheen,

A mysterious structure of string,

Chairs,

Clothespins,

And spools,

For wheels to go wound and wound.

Also a basket hung over the back of a chair,

In which he vainly tried to hoist his too confiding sister,

Who,

With feminine devotion,

Allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued,

When the young inventor indignantly remarked,

Why Marmie,

That's my lele-waiter,

And me's trying to pull her up.

Though utterly unlike in character,

The twins got on remarkably well together,

And seldom quarreled more than thrice a day.

Of course Demi tyrannized over Daisy,

And defended her from every other aggressor,

While Daisy made a galley slave of herself,

And adored her brother as the one perfect being in the world.

A rosy,

Chubby,

Sun-shiny little soul was Daisy,

Who found her way to everybody's heart,

And nestled there.

One of the captivating children,

Who seemed made to be kissed and cuddled,

Adorned and adored like little goddesses,

And produced for general approval on all festive occasions.

Her small virtues were so sweet,

That she would have been made quite angelic if a few small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully human.

It was all fair weather in her world,

And every morning she scrambled up to the window in her little nightgown to look out,

And say,

No matter whether it rained or shone,

Oh pity day,

Oh pity day.

Everyone was a friend,

And she offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly,

That the most inveterate bachelor relented,

And baby lovers became faithful worshippers.

Me loves everybody,

She once said,

Opening her arms,

With her spoon in one hand,

And her mug in the other,

As if eager to embrace and nourish the whole world.

As she grew,

Her mother began to feel that the dovecote would be blessed by the presence of an inmate as serene and loving as that which had helped to make the old house home,

And to pray that she might be spared a loss,

Like which had lately taught them how long they had entertained an angel unaware.

Her grandfather often called her Beth,

And her grandmother watched over her with untiring devotion,

As if trying to atone for some past mistake,

Which no eye but her own could see.

Demi,

Like a true Yankee,

Was of an inquiring turn,

Wanting to know everything,

And often getting much disturbed because he could not get satisfactory answers to his perpetual What for?

He also possessed a philosophic bent to the great delight of his grandfather,

Who used to hold Socratic conversations with him,

In which the precocious pupil occasionally posed his teacher to the undisguised satisfaction of the womanfolk.

What makes my legs go,

Drampa?

Asked the young philosopher,

Surveying those active portions of his frame with a meditative air,

While resting after a go-to-bed frolic one night.

It's your little mind,

Demi,

Replied the sage,

Stroking the yellow head respectfully.

What is a little mind?

It's something which makes your body move,

As the spring made the wheels go on my watch when I showed it to you.

Open me,

I want to see it go round.

I can't do that any more than you can open the watch.

God winds you up,

And you go till he stops you.

Does I?

And Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in the new thought.

Is I wounded up like the watch?

Yes,

But I can't show you how,

For it is done when we don't see.

Demi felt his back,

As if expecting to find it like that of a watch,

And then gravely remarked.

I guess God does it when I is asleep.

A careful explanation followed,

To which he listened so attentively that his anxious grandmother said,

My dear,

Do you think it's wise to talk about such things to the baby?

He's getting great bumps over his eyes,

And learning to ask the most unanswerable questions.

If he is old enough to ask the question,

He's old enough to receive true answers.

I'm not putting the thoughts into his head,

But helping him unfold those already there.

These children are wiser than we are,

And I have no doubt the boy understands every word I have said to him.

Now Demi,

Tell me where you keep your mind.

If the boy had replied like,

By the God,

Socrates,

I cannot tell,

His grandfather would not have been surprised,

But when after standing a moment on one leg,

Like a meditative young stork,

He answered in a tone of calm conviction,

In my little belly.

The old gentleman could only join in grandma's laugh,

And dismiss the class in metaphysics.

There might have been more cause for maternal anxiety if Demi had not given convincing proofs that he was a true boy,

As well as a budding philosopher.

More often,

After a discussion which caused Hannah to prophecy,

With ominous nods,

That child ain't long for this world,

He would turn about and set her fears at rest by some of the pranks with which dear,

Dirty,

Naughty little rascals distract and delight their parents' souls.

Meg made many moral rules and tried to keep them,

But what mother was ever proof against the winning wiles,

The ingenious invasions,

Or the tranquil audacity of the miniature men and women who so early show themselves accomplished,

Artful dodgers?

No more raisins,

Demi,

They'll make you sick,

Says mama to the young person who offers his services in the kitchen with unfailing regularity on Plum Pudding Day.

Me likes to be sick.

I don't want to have you,

So run away and help Daisy make patty cakes.

He reluctantly departs,

But his wrongs weigh upon his spirit,

And by and by,

When the opportunity comes to redress them,

He outwits mama by a shrewd bargain.

Now you've been good children,

And I'll play anything you like,

Says Meg,

As she leads her assistant cooks upstairs,

When the pudding is safely bouncing in the pot.

Truly,

Mamar?

Asks Demi,

With a brilliant idea in his well-powdered head.

Yes,

Truly,

Anything you say,

Replies the short-sighted parent,

Preparing herself to sing The Three Little Kittens half a dozen time,

Or to take her family to buy a penny bun,

Regardless of wind or whim.

But Demi corners her by the cool reply.

Then we'll go and eat up all the raisins.

Aunt Dodo was a chief playmate and confidant of both children,

And the trio turned the house topsy-turvy.

Aunt Amy was of yet only a name to them.

Aunt Beth soon faded into the pleasantly vague memory,

But Aunt Dodo was a living reality,

And they made the most of her,

For which compliment she was deeply grateful.

And when Mr.

Bear came,

Jo neglected her playfellows,

And dismay and desolation fell upon them.

On their little souls.

Daisy,

Who was fond of going about peddling kisses,

Lost her best customer and became bankrupt.

Demi,

With an infantile penetration,

Soon discovered that Dodo liked to play with the Bear Man better than she did him.

But though hurt,

He concealed his anguish,

For he hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate drops in his waistcoat pocket,

And a watch that could be taken out of his case and freely shaken by ardent admirers.

Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes,

But Demi didn't see it in that light,

And continued to patronize the little Bear Man with pensive affability,

While Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call,

And considered his shoulder her throne,

His arm her refuge,

His gifts treasures surpassing worth.

Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard,

But this sits uneasily upon them,

And does not deceive anybody a particle.

Mr.

Bear's devotion was sincere,

However likewise effective,

For honesty is the best policy in love as in law.

He was one of the men who are at home with children,

And looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one.

His business,

Whatever it was,

Detained him from day to day,

But evenings seldom failed to bring him out to sea.

Well,

He always asked for Mr.

March,

So I suppose he was the attraction.

The excellent papa labored under the delusion that he was,

And reveled in the long discussions with the kindred spirit,

Till a chance remark of his more observing grandson suddenly enlightened him.

Mr.

Bear came in one evening to pause on the threshold of the study,

Astonished by the spectacle that met his eye.

Prone upon the floor lay Mr.

March,

With his respectable legs in the air,

And beside him,

Likewise prone,

Was Demi,

Trying to imitate the attitude with his own short,

Scarlet-stalking legs.

Both grovelers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of spectators,

Till Mr.

Bear laughed his sonorous laugh,

And Joe cried out,

With a scandalized face,

Father,

Father,

Here's the professor.

Down went the black legs,

And up came the gray head,

As the preceptor said,

With undisturbed dignity.

Good evening,

Mr.

Bear.

Excuse me for a moment,

We are just finishing our lesson.

Now Demi,

Make the letter,

And tell me its name.

I knows him,

And after a few convulsive efforts,

The red legs took the shape of a pair of compasses,

And the intelligent pupil triumphantly shouted,

It's a wee,

Trampa,

It's a wee.

He's a born weller,

Laughed Joe,

As her parent gathered himself up,

And her nephew tried to stand on his head,

As the only mode of expressing his satisfaction that school was over.

What have you been at to-day,

Bubkin?

Asked Mr.

Bear,

Picking up the gymnast.

We went to see little Mary.

And what did you do there?

I kissed her,

Began Demi,

With an artless frankness.

Prut,

Thou beginnest early.

What did the little Mary say to that?

Asked Mr.

Bear,

Continuing to confess the young sinner who stood upon the knee,

Exploring the waistcoat pocket.

Oh,

She liked it,

And she kissed me,

And I liked it.

Don't little boys like little girls?

Asked Demi,

With his mouth full,

And an air of bland satisfaction.

You precocious chick,

Who put that in your head?

Said Joe,

Enjoying the innocent revelation as much as the professor.

Tisn't in mine head,

It's in my mouth,

Answered literal Demi,

Putting out his tongue with a chocolate drop on it,

Thinking she alluded to confectionery,

Not ideas.

Thou should save some for the little friend.

Sweets to the sweet,

Manling.

And Mr.

Bear offered Joe some,

With a look that made her wonder if chocolate was not the nectar drunk by gods.

Demi also saw the smile,

Was impressed by it,

And artlessly inquired.

Do great boys like great girls too,

Fessor?

Like young Washington,

Mr.

Bear couldn't tell a lie,

So he gave the somewhat vague reply that he believed they did sometimes,

In a tone that made Mr.

March put down his clothes brush,

Glance at Joe's retiring face,

And then sink into his chair,

Looking as if the precocious chick had put an idea into his head that was both sweet and sour.

Why Dodo,

When she caught him in the china closet half an hour afterward,

Nearly squeezed the death out of his little body with a tender embrace,

Instead of shaking him for being and why she followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gif of a big slice of bread and jelly,

Remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled his little small wits,

And was forced to leave unsolved,

Forever.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.