Part 1, CHAPTER THIRTEENCASTLES IN THE AIR

Jo was very busy in the garret, for the October days began to grow chilly, and the afternoons were short. For two or three hours the sun lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa, writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before her, while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams overhead, accompanied by his oldest son, a fine young fellow, who was evidently very proud of his whiskers. Quite absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away till the last page was filled, when she signed her name with a flourish and threw down her pen, exclaiming... Brooke’s patience to the utmost, displeased his grandfather by practicing half the afternoon, frightened the maidservants half out of their wits by mischievously hinting that one of his dogs was going mad, and, after high words with the stableman about some fancied neglect of his horse, he had flung himself into his hammock to fume over the stupidity of the world in general, till the peace of the lovely day quieted him in spite of himself. Staring up into the green gloom of the horse-chestnut trees above him, he dreamed dreams of all sorts, and was just imagining himself tossing on the ocean in a voyage round the world, when the sound of voices brought him ashore in a flash. Peeping through the meshes of the hammock, he saw the Marches coming out, as if bound on some expedition.

“There, I’ve done my best! If this won’t suit I shall have to wait till I can do better.” Meg had a cushion, Jo a book, Beth a basket, and Amy a portfolio. All walked quietly through the garden, out at the little back gate, and began to climb the hill that lay between the house and river.

Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript carefully through, making dashes here and there, and putting in many exclamation points, which looked like little balloons. Then she tied it up with a smart red ribbon, and sat a minute looking at it with a sober, wistful expression, which plainly showed how earnest her work had been. Jo’s desk up here was an old tin kitchen which hung against the wall. In it she kept her papers, and a few books, safely shut away from Scrabble, who, being likewise of a literary turn, was fond of making a circulating library of such books as were left in his way by eating the leaves.

She put on her hat and jacket as noiselessly as possible, and going to the back entry window, got out upon the roof of a low porch, swung herself down to the grassy bank, and took a roundabout way to the road. Once there, she composed herself, hailed a passing omnibus, and rolled away to town, looking very merry and mysterious. A grove of pines covered one part of it, and from the heart of this green spot came a clearer sound than the soft sigh of the pines or the drowsy chirp of the crickets.

If anyone had been watching her, he would have thought her movements decidedly peculiar, for on alighting, she went off at a great pace till she reached a certain number in a certain busy street.

There was a dentist’s sign, among others, which adorned the entrance, and after staring a moment at the pair of artificial jaws which slowly opened and shut to draw attention to a fine set of teeth, the young gentleman put on his coat, took his hat, and went down to post himself in the opposite doorway, saying with a smile and a shiver, “It’s like her to come alone, but if she has a bad time she’ll need someone to help her home.” Meg sat upon her cushion, sewing daintily with her white hands, and looking as fresh and sweet as a rose in her pink dress among the green. Beth was sorting the cones that lay thick under the hemlock near by, for she made pretty things with them. Amy was sketching a group of ferns, and Jo was knitting as she read aloud. A shadow passed over the boy’s face as he watched them, feeling that he ought to go away because uninvited; yet lingering because home seemed very lonely and this quiet party in the woods most attractive to his restless spirit. He stood so still that a squirrel, busy with its harvesting, ran down a pine close beside him, saw him suddenly and skipped back, scolding so shrilly that Beth looked up, espied the wistful face behind the birches, and beckoned with a reassuring smile.

In ten minutes Jo came running downstairs with a very red face and the general appearance of a person who had just passed through a trying ordeal of some sort. When she saw the young gentleman she looked anything but pleased, and passed him with a nod.

“Not very.” We should have asked you before, only we thought you wouldn’t care for such a girl’s game as this.”

“You got through quickly.”

“Yes, thank goodness!” It’s against the rules to be idle here,” replied Meg gravely but graciously.

“Why did you go alone?” I’ll do anything if you’ll let me stop a bit, for it’s as dull as the Desert of Sahara down there. Shall I sew, read, cone, draw, or do all at once? Bring on your bears. I’m ready.” And Laurie sat down with a submissive expression delightful to behold.

“Didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You’re the oddest fellow I ever saw.

Jo looked at her friend as if she did not understand him, then began to laugh as if mightily amused at something.

“There are two which I want to have come out, but I must wait a week.”

“What are you laughing at?

“So are you.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, it wasn’t a billiard saloon, but a gymnasium, and I was taking a lesson in fencing.”

“I’m glad of that.”

“Why?” I give you my word I won’t laugh. Tell away, Jo, and don’t be afraid.”

“You can teach me, and then when we play Hamlet, you can be Laertes, and we’ll make a fine thing of the fencing scene.” Well, you see we used to play Pilgrim’s Progress, and we have been going on with it in earnest, all winter and summer.”

Laurie burst out with a hearty boy’s laugh, which made several passers-by smile in spite of themselves.

“I’ll teach you whether we play Hamlet or not.

“No, I was glad that you were not in the saloon, because I hope you never go to such places.

“Not often.” I wanted to amuse him one night when you were all away, and he was rather dismal. He did like it, so don’t scold, Jo,” said Beth meekly.

“I wish you wouldn’t.” Never mind, it saves trouble now.”

“It’s no harm, Jo.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry, for you’ll get to liking it better and better, and will waste time and money, and grow like those dreadful boys. I did hope you’d stay respectable and be a satisfaction to your friends,” said Jo, shaking her head. The vacation is nearly over, the stints are all done, and we are ever so glad that we didn’t dawdle.”

“Can’t a fellow take a little innocent amusement now and then without losing his respectability?” asked Laurie, looking nettled.

“That depends upon how and where he takes it. I don’t like Ned and his set, and wish you’d keep out of it. Mother won’t let us have him at our house, though he wants to come.

“Won’t she?” asked Laurie anxiously. The sun was low, and the heavens glowed with the splendor of an autumn sunset. Gold and purple clouds lay on the hilltops, and rising high into the ruddy light were silvery white peaks that shone like the airy spires of some Celestial City.

“No, she can’t bear fashionable young men, and she’d shut us all up in bandboxes rather than have us associate with them.”

“Well, she needn’t get out her bandboxes yet.

“Yes, nobody minds them, so lark away, but don’t get wild, will you? Or there will be an end of all our good times.”

“I’ll be a double distilled saint.”

“I can’t bear saints. Just be a simple, honest, respectable boy, and we’ll never desert you.

“You think I’m likely to do the same?

“No, I don’t—oh, dear, no!—but I hear people talking about money being such a temptation, and I sometimes wish you were poor. I shouldn’t worry then.” If I arrive late, you’ll say a good word for me, won’t you, Beth?”

“Do you worry about me, Jo?” I always imagine it is as it is in the picture, where the shining ones stretch out their hands to welcome poor Christian as he comes up from the river.”

“A little, when you look moody and discontented, as you sometimes do, for you’ve got such a strong will, if you once get started wrong, I’m afraid it would be hard to stop you.”

Laurie walked in silence a few minutes, and Jo watched him, wishing she had held her tongue, for his eyes looked angry, though his lips smiled as if at her warnings.

“Are you going to deliver lectures all the way home?” he asked presently. What is it?” asked Meg.

“Of course not.

“Because if you are, I’ll take a bus.

“I won’t preach any more, and I’d like to hear the news immensely.” Now, Laurie.”

“Very well, then, come on. It’s a secret, and if I tell you, you must tell me yours.” And I’m never to be bothered about money or business, but just enjoy myself and live for what I like. That’s my favorite castle. What’s yours, Meg?”

“I haven’t got any,” began Jo, but stopped suddenly, remembering that she had. I am to be mistress of it, and manage it as I like, with plenty of servants, so I never need work a bit. How I should enjoy it! For I wouldn’t be idle, but do good, and make everyone love me dearly.”

“You know you have—you can’t hide anything, so up and ’fess, or I won’t tell,” cried Laurie.

“Is your secret a nice one?”

“Oh, isn’t it! All about people you know, and such fun!

“You’ll not say anything about it at home, will you?”

“Not a word.” I’d have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms piled high with books, and I’d write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie’s music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, something heroic or wonderful that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but I’m on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous, that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream.”

“And you won’t tease me in private?”

“I never tease.”

“Yes, you do. You get everything you want out of people.

“Thank you.

“Well, I’ve left two stories with a newspaperman, and he’s to give his answer next week,” whispered Jo, in her confidant’s ear. Every one of us, but Beth, wants to be rich and famous, and gorgeous in every respect. I do wonder if any of us will ever get our wishes,” said Laurie, chewing grass like a meditative calf.

“Hurrah for Miss March, the celebrated American authoress!” cried Laurie, throwing up his hat and catching it again, to the great delight of two ducks, four cats, five hens, and half a dozen Irish children, for they were out of the city now.

“Hush! It won’t come to anything, I dare say, but I couldn’t rest till I had tried, and I said nothing about it because I didn’t want anyone else to be disappointed.”

“It won’t fail.

Jo’s eyes sparkled, for it is always pleasant to be believed in, and a friend’s praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs.

“Where’s your secret?

“Where?”

“Pocket.”

“All this time?”

“Yes, isn’t that romantic?”

“No, it’s horrid.” Brooke had worn when he told the story of the knight.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I don’t. It’s ridiculous, it won’t be allowed.

“You are not to tell anyone. Mind that.”

“I didn’t promise.”

“That was understood, and I trusted you.”

“Well, I won’t for the present, anyway, but I’m disgusted, and wish you hadn’t told me.” By Jupiter, I will, if I only get the chance!” cried Laurie, sitting up with sudden energy. “I ought to be satisfied to please Grandfather, and I do try, but it’s working against the grain, you see, and comes hard. He wants me to be an India merchant, as he was, and I’d rather be shot. I hate tea and silk and spices, and every sort of rubbish his old ships bring, and I don’t care how soon they go to the bottom when I own them. Going to college ought to satisfy him, for if I give him four years he ought to let me off from the business. But he’s set, and I’ve got to do just as he did, unless I break away and please myself, as my father did. If there was anyone left to stay with the old gentleman, I’d do it tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away?

“You’ll feel better about it when somebody comes to take you away.” You mustn’t talk in that way, and Laurie mustn’t take your bad advice. You should do just what your grandfather wishes, my dear boy,” said Meg in her most maternal tone. “Do your best at college, and when he sees that you try to please him, I’m sure he won’t be hard on you or unjust to you. As you say, there is no one else to stay with and love him, and you’d never forgive yourself if you left him without his permission. Don’t be dismal or fret, but do your duty and you’ll get your reward, as good Mr. Brooke has, by being respected and loved.”

“I’d like to see anyone try it,” cried Jo fiercely.

“So should I!” and Laurie chuckled at the idea. And how he provides now for an old woman who nursed his mother, and never tells anyone, but is just as generous and patient and good as he can be.”

“I don’t think secrets agree with me, I feel rumpled up in my mind since you told me that,” said Jo rather ungratefully. Brooke couldn’t understand why your mother was so kind to him, asking him over with me and treating him in her beautiful friendly way. He thought she was just perfect, and talked about it for days and days, and went on about you all in flaming style. If ever I do get my wish, you see what I’ll do for Brooke.”

“Race down this hill with me, and you’ll be all right,” suggested Laurie.

No one was in sight, the smooth road sloped invitingly before her, and finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb behind her and scattering hairpins as she ran.

“I wish I was a horse, then I could run for miles in this splendid air, and not lose my breath. It was capital, but see what a guy it’s made me. Go, pick up my things, like a cherub, as you are,” said Jo, dropping down under a maple tree, which was carpeting the bank with crimson leaves.

Laurie leisurely departed to recover the lost property, and Jo bundled up her braids, hoping no one would pass by till she was tidy again. But someone did pass, and who should it be but Meg, looking particularly ladylike in her state and festival suit, for she had been making calls. I see him bow and smile as he passes your window, but I didn’t know you’d got up a telegraph.”

“What in the world are you doing here?” she asked, regarding her disheveled sister with well-bred surprise. Don’t be angry, and oh, don’t tell him I said anything! It was only to show that I cared how you get on, and what is said here is said in confidence, you know,” cried Meg, much alarmed at the thought of what might follow from her careless speech.

“Getting leaves,” meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she had just swept up.

“And hairpins,” added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo’s lap. “They grow on this road, Meg, so do combs and brown straw hats.” I didn’t mean to preach or tell tales or be silly. I only thought Jo was encouraging you in a feeling which you’d be sorry for by-and-by. You are so kind to us, we feel as if you were our brother and say just what we think. Forgive me, I meant it kindly.” And Meg offered her hand with a gesture both affectionate and timid.

“You have been running, Jo. How could you? When will you stop such romping ways?” said Meg reprovingly, as she settled her cuffs and smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties. I thank you all the same.”

“Never till I’m stiff and old and have to use a crutch. Don’t try to make me grow up before my time, Meg.

As she spoke, Jo bent over the leaves to hide the trembling of her lips, for lately she had felt that Margaret was fast getting to be a woman, and Laurie’s secret made her dread the separation which must surely come some time and now seemed very near.

“At the Gardiners’, and Sallie has been telling me all about Belle Moffat’s wedding.

“Do you envy her, Meg?” said Laurie.

“I’m afraid I do.” There’s a demand for socks just now,” added Jo, waving hers like a big blue worsted banner as they parted at the gate.

“I’m glad of it!” muttered Jo, tying on her hat with a jerk. “Why?” asked Meg, looking surprised.