Part 1, CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOPLEASANT MEADOWS

Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughters hovered about Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything to look at, wait upon, and listen to the new invalid, who was in a fair way to be killed by kindness. As he sat propped up in a big chair by Beth’s sofa, with the other three close by, and Hannah popping in her head now and then ‘to peek at the dear man’, nothing seemed needed to complete their happiness. But something was needed, and the elder ones felt it, though none confessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one another with an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg.

Laurie went by in the afternoon, and seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down on one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon. And when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered effectually quenched and went about with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together.

“What does the goose mean?” said Meg, laughing and trying to look unconscious. Hannah ‘felt in her bones’ that it was going to be an unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess, for everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success. To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them, then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being dressed in her mother’s gift, a soft crimson merino wrapper, was borne in high triumph to the window to behold the offering of Jo and Laurie. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the name, for like elves they had worked by night and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips on a pink paper streamer.

“He’s showing you how your John will go on by-and-by.

“Don’t say my John, it isn’t proper or true,” but Meg’s voice lingered over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. “Please don’t plague me, Jo, I’ve told you I don’t care much about him, and there isn’t to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before.” May nothing you dismay, But health and peace and happiness Be yours, this Christmas day.

“We can’t, for something has been said, and Laurie’s mischief has spoiled you for me. I see it, and so does Mother. You are not like your old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from me. I don’t mean to plague you and will bear it like a man, but I do wish it was all settled.

“I can’t say anything till he speaks, and he won’t, because Father said I was too young,” began Meg, bending over her work with a queer little smile, which suggested that she did not quite agree with her father on that point. By Raphael No. 2, Who laboured with great industry To make it fair and true.

“If he did speak, you wouldn’t know what to say, but would cry or blush, or let him have his own way, instead of giving a good, decided no.” For Madam Purrer’s tail, And ice cream made by lovely Peg, A Mont Blanc in a pail.

“I’m not so silly and weak as you think. I know just what I should say, for I’ve planned it all, so I needn’t be taken unawares. There’s no knowing what may happen, and I wished to be prepared.” From Laurie and from Jo.

Jo couldn’t help smiling at the important air which Meg had unconsciously assumed and which was as becoming as the pretty color varying in her cheeks.

“Would you mind telling me what you’d say?” asked Jo more respectfully.

“Not at all.

“Don’t mean to have any.

“I think not, if you liked anyone very much, and he liked you.” Meg spoke as if to herself, and glanced out at the lane where she had often seen lovers walking together in the summer twilight. Laurence had insisted on giving it. “How can I be otherwise?” said Mrs. March gratefully, as her eyes went from her husband’s letter to Beth’s smiling face, and her hand caressed the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast.

“I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man,” said Jo, rudely shortening her sister’s little reverie. Half an hour after everyone had said they were so happy they could only hold one drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlor door and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war whoop, for his face was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful that everyone jumped up, though he only said, in a queer, breathless voice, “Here’s another Christmas present for the March family.”

“Oh, I should merely say, quite calmly and decidedly, ‘Thank you, Mr. Brooke, you are very kind, but I agree with Father that I am too young to enter into any engagement at present, so please say no more, but let us be friends as we were.’”

Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella,” began Meg, wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safely out of the house. Mr. Laurence is going to help him.” And Amy, the dignified, tumbled over a stool, and never stopping to get up, hugged and cried over her father’s boots in the most touching manner. Mrs. March was the first to recover herself, and held up her hand with a warning, “Hush! Remember Beth.”

“That won’t last long. James Laurence is a crotchety old fellow and not to be depended on. So you intend to marry a man without money, position, or business, and go on working harder than you do now, when you might be comfortable all your days by minding me and doing better?

“I couldn’t do better if I waited half my life! John is good and wise, he’s got heaps of talent, he’s willing to work and sure to get on, he’s so energetic and brave. Everyone likes and respects him, and I’m proud to think he cares for me, though I’m so poor and young and silly,” said Meg, looking prettier than ever in her earnestness. Brooke for his faithful care of her husband, at which Mr. Brooke suddenly remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and seizing Laurie, he precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to repose, which they did, by both sitting in one big chair and talking hard.

“He knows you have got rich relations, child. That’s the secret of his liking, I suspect.” Why Mr. March paused a minute just there, and after a glance at Meg, who was violently poking the fire, looked at his wife with an inquiring lift of the eyebrows, I leave you to imagine. Also why Mrs. March gently nodded her head and asked, rather abruptly, if he wouldn’t like to have something to eat. Jo saw and understood the look, and she stalked grimly away to get wine and beef tea, muttering to herself as she slammed the door, “I hate estimable young men with brown eyes!”

“Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is above such meanness, and I won’t listen to you a minute if you talk so,” cried Meg indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of the old lady’s suspicions. “My John wouldn’t marry for money, any more than I would. We are willing to work and we mean to wait. I’m not afraid of being poor, for I’ve been happy so far, and I know I shall be with him because he loves me, and I...”

Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn’t made up her mind, that she had told ‘her John’ to go away, and that he might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr. Brooke, at whom Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie’s infinite amusement. Two easy chairs stood side by side at the head of the table, in which sat Beth and her father, feasting modestly on chicken and a little fruit. They drank healths, told stories, sang songs, ‘reminisced’, as the old folks say, and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh ride had been planned, but the girls would not leave their father, so the guests departed early, and as twilight gathered, the happy family sat together round the fire.

Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having her pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl’s happy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour. Do you remember?” asked Jo, breaking a short pause which had followed a long conversation about many things.

“Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a willful child, and you’ve lost more than you know by this piece of folly.

And slamming the door in Meg’s face, Aunt March drove off in high dudgeon.

“I didn’t know how much till she abused you,” began Meg.

“And I needn’t go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, dear?” But you have got on bravely, and I think the burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon,” said Mr. March, looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered round him.

Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself forever in Jo’s eyes by meekly whispering, “Yes, John,” and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke’s waistcoat.

Fifteen minutes after Aunt March’s departure, Jo came softly downstairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and hearing no sound within, nodded and smiled with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, “She has seen him away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I’ll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it.”

But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes.

That was adding insult to injury, it was altogether too much, and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming tragically as she burst into the room, “Oh, do somebody go down quick! John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!” Meg, my dear, I value the womanly skill which keeps home happy more than white hands or fashionable accomplishments. I’m proud to shake this good, industrious little hand, and hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away.”

Mr. and Mrs.

Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that afternoon, but a great deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished his friends by the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit, told his plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as he wanted it.

The tea bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both looking so happy that Jo hadn’t the heart to be jealous or dismal.

“You can’t say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?” said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in a sketch she was planning to make. March. “I see a young lady who pins her collar straight, laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang, nor lies on the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and pale just now, with watching and anxiety, but I like to look at it, for it has grown gentler, and her voice is lower. She doesn’t bounce, but moves quietly, and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly way which delights me. I rather miss my wild girl, but if I get a strong, helpful, tenderhearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite satisfied. I don’t know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep, but I do know that in all Washington I couldn’t find anything beautiful enough to be bought with the five-and-twenty dollars my good girl sent me.”

“No, I’m sure I can’t.

“The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun,” said Mrs.

“Hope the next will end better,” muttered Jo, who found it very hard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face, for Jo loved a few persons very dearly and dreaded to have their affection lost or lessened in any way. But recollecting how nearly he had lost her, he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his own, “I’ve got you safe, my Beth, and I’ll keep you so, please God.”

“I hope the third year from this will end better.

“Doesn’t it seem very long to wait?” asked Amy, who was in a hurry for the wedding. I also observe that she does not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even mentioned a very pretty ring which she wears, so I conclude that she has learned to think of other people more and of herself less, and has decided to try and mold her character as carefully as she molds her little clay figures. I am glad of this, for though I should be very proud of a graceful statue made by her, I shall be infinitely prouder of a lovable daughter with a talent for making life beautiful to herself and others.”

“I’ve got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short time to me,” answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her face never seen there before.

“You have only to wait, I am to do the work,” said John beginning his labors by picking up Meg’s napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself with an air of relief as the front door banged, “Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have some sensible conversation.” I made the music for Father, because he likes the verses.”

But Jo was mistaken, for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with good spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for ‘Mrs.

“I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does, for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it’s done though the sky falls,” said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations. He that is low no pride. He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide.

“Much obliged for that recommendation. I take it as a good omen for the future and invite you to my wedding on the spot,” answered Mr. Brooke, who felt at peace with all mankind, even his mischievous pupil. Because Thou savest such.

“I’ll come if I’m at the ends of the earth, for the sight of Jo’s face alone on that occasion would be worth a long journey. You don’t look festive, ma’am, what’s the matter?” asked Laurie, following her into a corner of the parlor, whither all had adjourned to greet Mr. Laurence.