 Chapter 20 of Good Wives This is a LibreVox recording. All LibreVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org recording by Ellie. Good Wives by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 20. Surprises Joe was alone in the Twilight, lying on an old sofa looking at the fire and sinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on best little red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or sinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away. Her face looked tired, grave and rather sad, for tomorrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting and how little she seemed to have accomplished, almost 25 and nothing to show for it. Joe was mistaken in that there was a good deal to show, and by and by she saw and was grateful for it. An old maid, that is what I am to be, a literary spinster, with a pen for his spouse, a family of stories for children, and 20 years hence a morsel of fame, perhaps, when, like poor Johnson, I am old and can't enjoy it, solitary and can't share it, independent and don't need it. Well, I needn't be a sour saint, nor a selfish sinner, and a dare say old maids are very comfortable, and they get used to it, but... and they are true sight, as if the prospect was not inviting. It seldom is at first, and 30 seems to be the end of all things to 5 and 20, and it's not as bad as it looks, and one can get on quite happily if one has something in oneself to fall back upon. At 25 girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly resolve that there never will be, at 30 there is nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact and if sensible console themselves by remembering that they have 20 more useful happy years in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls. For often very tender tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth's health ambition love itself make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad sour sisters would be kindly dealt with because they've missed the sweetest part of life, if for no other reason. When looking at them with compassion or contempt, girls in their bloom should remember that they too may miss the blossom time, that rosy cheeks don't last forever, that silver threads will come in the bonny brown hair and that bind by kindness and respect will be a sweetest laugh and admiration now. Gentlemen, which means boys, because cheers to old maids no matter how poor and plain and brim, for the only chivalry verse having is that which is the radius to be a deference to the old, protect the feeble and serve for mankind, regardless of rank, age and color. Just recollect the good aunts who have not only lectured and fast, but nursed and petted too often without sinks. The scrapes they have helped you out of, the tips they have given you from their small store, the stitches the patient old fingers have set for you, the steps the willing old feet have taken and gratefully bade the dear old ladies the little attentions that women love to receive as long as they live. The bright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits and will like you all the better for them. And if death, almost the only power that can part mother and son, should rob you of yours, you will be sure to find tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some aunt Pressella, who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely heart to her best nephew in the world. Joe must have fallen asleep as a dear Samarita has during this little homely. For suddenly, Laurie's ghost seemed to stand before her, a substantial life-like ghost, leaning over her with the very look he used to wear and he felt a good deal and didn't like to show it. But like Jenny in the ballad, she could not sink it he and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and kissed her, then she knew him and flew up crying joyfully. O my daddy, o my daddy, dear Joe, you are glad to see me then? Glad me blessed boy, words can't express my gladness. Where is Amy? Your mother has got her down at Max. We stopped there by the way and there was no getting my wife out of her clutches. Your what? Great Joe, for Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him. O the dickens, now I've done it and he looked so guilty that Joe was down on him like a flash. You have gone and got married? Yes, please, but I never will again and he went down upon his knees with the penny and glassing of hands and a face full of mischief, mercy and triumph. Actually married? Very much so, thank you. Mercy on us, but dreadful thing will you do next and Joe fell into his seat with a gasp. A characteristic but not exactly complementary congratulation returned Laurie, still in an eject attitude but beaming with satisfaction. But do you expect when you take one's press away, creeping in like a burglar and letting cats out of bags like that get up your ridiculous boy and tell me all about it? Not a word unless you let me come in my old place and promise not to barricade. Joe laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day and petted the sofa invitingly as she sat in a cordial tone. The old pillow is up Garrett and we don't need it now, so come and fast, Teddy. How good it sounds to hear you say Teddy. No one ever calls me that but you and Laurie sat down with an air of great content. What does Amy call you? My lord. That's like her, well you look it and Joe's eye plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever. The pillow was gone but there was a barricade nevertheless a natural one raised by time absence and change of heart. Both felt it and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly however for Laurie said with a vain attempt at dignity. Don't they look a married man and the head of a family? Not a bit and you never will. You have grown bigger in bannier but you are the same scapegoat as ever. Now really Joe, you ought to treat me with more respect. began Laurie who enjoyed it all immensely. How can I when the mere idea of you married and settled is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober? answered Joe smiling all over her face so infectiously that they had another good laugh and then settled down for a good talk quiet in the pleasant old fashion. It's no use you are going out in the cold to get Amy for they are all coming up presently. I couldn't wait. I want you to be the one to tell you the grand surprise and have the first skim as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream. Of course you did and spoiled your story by beginning at the wrong end. Now start right and tell me how it all happened. I'm pining to know. Well, I did it to please Amy began Laurie with a twinkle that made Joe exclaim. Tip number one, Amy did it to please you. Go on and tell the truth if you're cancer. Now she's beginning to marmit. Isn't it jolly to hear her said Laurie to the fire and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quiet agreed. It's all the same, you know, she and I being one we plan to come home with the Carols a month or more ago but they suddenly changed their minds and decided to pass another winter in Paris but grandpa wanted to come home. He wanted to please me and I could not let him go alone. Neither could I leave Amy and Mrs. Carol had got English notations about chaperones and such nonsense and wouldn't let Amy come with us so I settled the difficulty by saying let's be married and then we can do as we like. Of course you did, you always have things to suit you. Not always and something in Laurie's voice made Josie hastily. How did you ever get on to agree? It was hard work but between us we talked her over for we had heaps of good reasons on our side. There wasn't time to write and ask leave but you all liked it and had consented to it by and by and it was only taking time by the fatlock as my wife says. Aren't we proud of those two words and don't we like to say them interrupted Joe addressing the fire in her turn and watching with delight the happy light that seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloom when she saw them last. A trifle perhaps she's such a captivating little woman I can't help being proud of her. Well then uncle and aunt were there to play propriety we were so absorbed in one another we were of no mortal use apart and the charming arrangement would make everything easy all around so we did it. When, were, how? Asked Joe in a fever of feminine interest and curiosity for she could not realize it a particle. Six weeks ago at the American consorts in Paris a very quiet wedding of course for even our happiness we didn't forget dear little Beth. Joe put her hand in his as he said it and Laurie gently smoothed the red little pillow which she remembered well. Why didn't you let us know afterward? Asked Joe in a quieter tone and he had said quiet still for a minute. We wanted to surprise you we thought we were coming directly home at first but the dear old gentleman as soon as we were married found he couldn't be ready under a month at least and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we liked. Amy had once called while Rosa a regular honeymoon home so we went there and were as happy as people are but once in their lives my face wasn't in love among the roses. Laurie seemed to forget Joe for a minute and Joe was glad of it for the fact that he told at least things so freely and so naturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten. She tried to draw away her hand but as if he guessed the sword that prompted the half involuntary impulse Laurie held it fast and said with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before. Joe, dear, I want to say one thing and then we'll put it by forever as I told you in my letter when I wrote that Amy had been so kind to me I shall never stop loving you but the love is altered and I have learned to see it as better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that's all. I think it was meant to be so and would have come about naturally if I'd write it as you tried to make me but I never could be patient and so he got the heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent and it took a heart lesson to show my mistake for it was one, Joe, as you said and I found it out after making a fool of myself. Upon my word I wasn't so tumbled up in my mind at one time that I didn't know which I loved best, you and Amy and tried to love you both alike but I couldn't and when I saw her in Switzerland everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places and I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on with the new that I could honestly share my heart between sister Joe and wife Amy and love them dearly. Will you believe it? and go back to the happy old times when you first knew one another? I'll believe it with all my heart but, Teddy, we cannot be boy and girl again. The happy old times can't come back and we mustn't expect it. We are men and women now with sober work to do for playtime is over and we must give up follyking. I am sure you feel this. I see the change in you and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy but I shall love the man as much and admire him more because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer but we will be brother and sister to laugh and help one another all our lives. Won't we, Laurie? He did not say a word but took the hand she offered him and laid his face down on it for a minute. Feeling that out of the grave of boyish passion they had risen a beautiful strong friendship to bless them both. Presently, Joe said cheerfully for she didn't want the coming home to be a sad one. I can't make it true that you children are rarely married and going to set up housekeeping why it seems only yesterday that I was butting in Amy's pineal fore and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me. How time does fly. As one of the children is older than yourself you needn't talk so like grandma. I flatter myself. I'm a gentleman code as peck out this set of David. And when you see Amy you'll find her rather precoctious infant. Said Laurie, looking amused at the maternal air. You may be a little older in years but I'm never so much older in feeling Teddy. Women always are and this last year has been such a hard one that I feel 40. Poor Joe. We left you to beard alone while even pleasuring. You are older. Here's a line and there's another. Unless you smile, your eyes look sad and when I touched the cushion just now I found a tear on it. You have had a great deal to bear and had to beard all alone. What selfish beast I've been and Laurie pulled his own hair with a remorseful look. But Joe only turned over the traitorous pillow and answered in a tone which he tried to make more cheerful. No, I had father and mother to help me and the dear babies to comfort me and the thought that you and Amy were safe and happy to make the troubles here seem easier to bear. I am lonely sometimes but the dare say it's good for me and you shall never be again. Broke in Laurie, putting his arm about her as if to fence out every human ill. Amy and I can't get on without you so you must come and teach the children to keep the house and go halves in everything just as we used to and let us pet you and all be blissfully happy and friendly together. If I shouldn't be in the way it would be very pleasant. I begin to feel quite young already for somehow all my troubles seemed to fly away when you came. You always were a comfort teddy and Joe leaned her head on his shoulder just as she did years ago when Beth lay ill and Laurie told her to hold on to him. He looked down at her wondering if she remembered the time but Joe was smiling to herself as if in truth her troubles had all vanished that is coming. You are the same Joe still topping tears about one minute and laughing the next. You look a little wicked now. What is it grandma? I was wondering how you and Amy get on together like anxious. Yes of course but which rules? I don't mind telling you that she does now at least let us think so it pleases her you know. By and by we shall take turns for marriage they see half one's right and double's one's duties. You'll go on as you begin and Amy will hold you all the days of your life. Well she does it so imperceptibly that I don't think I shall mind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to hold well in fact I rather like it for she winds one around her finger as softly and prettily as the skin of silk and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favor all the while. That ever I should live to see you a hand packed husband and enjoying it cried Joe with uplifted hands. It was good to see Loris square his shoulders and smile a masculine scorn at that insinuation as he replied with his high and mighty air. Amy is too well-prepared for that and I am not the sort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect ourselves and one and other too much ever to tear an eye so quarrel. Joe liked it and saw the new dignity very becoming but the boys seemed changing very fast into a man and regret mingled with her pleasure. I am sure of that. Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to. She is the son and I the wind in the fable and the son managed the man best. You remember? She can blow him up as well as shine on him. Loved Lori. Such a lecture as you got at Nice. I give you my word it was a deal worse than any of your scoldings. Irregular rouser. I'll tell you all about it sometime. She never will because after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me she lost her heart to a despicable man and married a good for nothing. What baseness? Well if she abuses you come to me and I'll defend you. I look as if I need it don't I? Said Lori getting up and striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposing to the raptures as Amy's voice was heard calling. Where is she? Where's my dear old Joe? In trooped the whole family and everybody was hugged and kissed all over again. And after several vain attempts the three wanderers were sat down to be looked at and exalted over. Mr. Lawrence, hell and heartiest ever was quite as much improved as the others by his foreign tour. For the crustiness seemed to be nearly gone and the old-fashioned cutliness had received a polish which made it kindlier than ever. It was good to see him beam at my children as he called the young pair. It was better still to see Amy pay him a daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart and best of all to watch Lori revolve about the two as if never tired of enjoying the pretty picture they made. The minute she put her eyes upon Amy Meg became conscious that her own dress had in the Parisian air. That young Miss Moffat would be entirely eclipsed by young Miss Lawrence and that her ladyship was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman Joe sawed as she watched the pair. How well they looked together. I was right and Lori has found the beautifully accomplished girl who will become his home better than the clumsy old Joe and be a bride not a torment to him. Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces for they saw that the youngest had done well not only in worldly things but the better verse of love, confidence and happiness. For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokens a peaceful heart. Her voice had a new tenderness in it and the cool cream carriage was changed to a gentle dignity both womanly and winning. Low little affectations marded and the cordial sweetness of her manner was more charming than the new beauty or the old grace for it stemmed her at once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentle woman she had hoped to become. Love has done so much for a little girl, said the mother softly. She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear. Mr. March whispered back with a loving look at the one face and grey head beside him. Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes of her, pity Auntie, but attached herself like a lapdog to the wonderful Shetland full of delightful charms. Amy paused to consider the new relationship before he compromised himself by the rash acceptance of a bribe which took the tempting form of a family of wooden bears from Byrne. A flank movement proceeded an unconditional surrender, however, following you were to have him. Young man, when I first had the honor of making her acquaintance, you hit me in the face. Now I demand the satisfaction of a gentleman. And with that, the tall uncle proceeded to toss and tussle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophy cult dignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul. Blessed if she ain't insert from head to foot, ain't it a relishing sight to see her sitting there as fine as a fiddle and a happy procession as filed away from the little dining room? Mr. March proudly escorted Mrs. Lawrence. Mrs. March was proudly leaned off the arm of my son. The old gentleman took Joe with a whispered, you must be my girl now. In the clans at the empty corner by the fire made Joe whisper back. I'll try to fill her space, sir. The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was at hand. For everyone was so busy with the newcomers that they were left to revel at their own sweetwell. And you may be sure they made the most of the opportunity. Didn't they steal the sips of tea? Stuffed ginger bread at Libertum, get the hot biscuit bees, and as the crowning trespass, didn't they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets? Dare to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them both the human age and the pastry of rail, burdened with the guilty conscience of the sequestered tarts and fearing the dodles' sharp eyes would pierce the same disguise of Cambridge and Merino, which hit their booty, the little sinners attached themselves to Trenpa, who hadn't his spectacles on. Amy, who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the baller on Father Lawrence's arm. They had disappeared office before and this arrangement left Joe companionless. She did not mind it a minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry. Will Miss Amy ride in her coupe and use all the lovely silver dishes that store the way over yonder? Shouldn't wonder if she drove six white horses, eight of golden plate and wore diamonds and pointe lace every day. Daddy thinks nothing too good for her. Returned Joe with infinite satisfaction. No more days. Will you have hash of fish balls for breakfast? Asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose. I don't care. And Joe shut the door, feeling that food wasn't a congenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party, vanishing above, and as Amy's short-blade legs turned up the last stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes as if to find something to lean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what burst the gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed. It won't do to be this small now. Then she drew her hand over her eyes for one of her bullish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was and had just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the porch door. She opened with hospitable haste and stared as if another ghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the dark nights like a midnight sun. Oh, Mr. Barr, I'm so glad to see you. Great Joe is a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in. And I had to see Miss March, but now you have a party and the professor paused with the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them. No, we haven't, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home and we are all very happy. Come in and make one of us. Though a very social man, I think Mr. Barr would have gone decorously away and come again another day. But how could he when Joe shut the door behind him and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes. If I shall not be Mr. Dettro, I will so gladly see them all. You have been ill, my friend? He put the question abruptly. For, as Joe hung up his coat, the light fell on her face and he saw the change in it. Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had troubles since I saw you last. Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that. And he shook her hands again with such a sympathetic face that Joe felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big warm hand. Father Mother, this is my friend, Professor Barr. She said with the face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with the flourish. If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Everyone greeted him kindly, for Joe's sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even more friendly because he was poor, for poverty and riches though so live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Barr said looking about him is the heir of a traveler who knocks at the strange door and when it opens finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honey-bot and establishing themselves on each knee or seated to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard and investigating his swatch with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another and Mr. March, feeling that he had a kindred spirit, opened his choicest store for the guest's benefit while Silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not the word, Mr. Lawrence found it impossible to go to sleep. If Joe had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behavior would have amused her for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like suspicion caused the gentleman to stand aloof at first and observe the newcomer with brotherly circumspection. But it did not last long. He got interested in spite of himself and before he knew it was drawn into the circle, for Mr. Barr talked while in this genial atmosphere and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often and the shadow would pass across his face as if regretting his own lost use as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eyes would turn to Joe, so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute inquiry if she'd seen it. But Joe had her own eyes to take care of and feeling that they could not be trusted, she brutally kept them on the little sock she was knitting like a model maiden aunt. As there is the glance now and then, refreshed her like sips of fresh water from a dusty walk. For the sidelong peeps showed her several preposterous omens. Mr. Barr's face had lost the absentminded expression and looked all alive with interest in the present moment. Actually young and handsome she sought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie as she usually did with strange men to the great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired to the burial customs of the ancients to which the conversation had strayed might not be considered an exhilarating topic. Joe quite clothed with triumph and had he got quenched in an argument and sought to herself as she watched her father's absorbed face. How would he enjoy having such a man as my professor to talk with every day? Lastly, Mr. Barr was dressed in a youth of black which made him look more like a gentleman than ever. His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed but didn't stay in order long. For an exciting moment, he rumbled it up in a troll way he used to do and Joe liked it rampantly erect better than flat because she thought it gave his fine forehead a jov-like aspect. Poor Joe, how did she glorify the plain man as she said knitting away so quietly yet letting nothing escape her not even the fact that Mr. Barr actually had gold sleeve buttons in his immaculate tourist pants? The old fellow he couldn't have got himself up with more care if it had been going to a ruin. Said Joe to herself and then a sudden thought one of the words made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her ball and go down after it to hide her face. The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected. However, for though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral pyre the professor dropped his torch metaphorically speaking and made a dive after the little blue ball. Of course, they bumped their heads smartly together saw stars and both came up flushed and loving without the ball to resume their seats wishing they had not left them. Nobody knew where the evening went to for Hannah's skillfully abstracted the babies at an early hour nodding like two rosy poppies and Mr. Lawrence went home to rest. The others sat around the fire talking away utterly regardless of the lapse of time until Mac, whose maternal was impressed by a firm conviction that David had tumbled out of bed and then he set his nightgown afire starting the structure of matches made a move to go. We must have our sing in the good old way for we are all together again once more, said Joe feeling that a good shout would be a safe and pleasant vent for the turbulent emotions of her soul. They were not all there. But no one found the word sadly so untrue. For best, still seemed among them a peaceful presence invisible but dearer than ever since death could not break the household leak that love made dissolutable. The little chair stood in its old place the tidy basket was the bit of work she left unfinished when the needle grew so heavy was still on its accustomed shelf. The beloved instrument, seldom touched now, had not been moved and the bath with best face, serene and smiling as in the early days looked down upon them seeming to say, be happy, I am here. Play something, Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved, said Laurie. Is a part unable pride in his promising pupil. But Amy whispered with full eyes as she dwelt a faded stool, not tonight, dear. I can't show off tonight. But she did show something better than brilliance or skill, for she sang best song with a tender music in her voice which the best master could not have thought and touched the listener's hearts as a sweeter power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very still and the clear voice filled suddenly the last line of best favorite rhythm. It was hard to say. Earth has no sorrow, and heaven cannot heal. And Amy leaned against her husband who stood behind her feeling that her welcome home was not quite perfect without best kiss. Now we must finish the minion song for Mr. Bear sings that said Joe before the pause grew painful. Mr. Barclay at his throat with a gratified hum as he stepped into the corner where Joe stood saying, you will sing with me? We go excellently well together. A pleasing fiction by the way for Joe had no more idea of music than a grasshopper. But she would have consented if he proposed to sing the whole opera and wobbled away blissfully regardless of time and tune. Didn't much matter that Mr. Bar sang like a true German heartily and well and Joe soon subsided into a subdued hum that she might listen to the mellow voice that seemed to sing for her alone. No stow the land where the citron blooms. Used to be the professor's favorite line for this land meant Germany to him. And now he seemed to dwell with particular warmth and melody upon the words, There, Utea, might I with tea or my beloved go? And one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that she longed to say she didn't know the land and would joyfully depart Theta and ever he liked. The song was considered a great success and the singer retired covered with laurels. But a few minutes afterwards he forgot his manners entirely and stared at Amy putting on her bonnet for she had been introduced simply as my sister and no one had called her by her new name since she came. He forgot himself still further than Laurel said in his most gracious manner at parting. My wife and I are very glad to meet you, sir. Please remember that there is always a welcome waiting for you over the way. Then the professor thanked him so heartily and looked so suddenly illuminated with satisfaction that Laurel sought him the most delightful demonstrative old fellow he had ever met. I too shall go, but I shall gladly come again if you will give me leave, dear madam, for a little business in the city will keep me here some days. He spoke to Mrs. March but he looked at Joe and the mother's voice gave his cordial and ascent as did the daughter's eyes. For Mrs. March was not so blind to a children's interest as Mrs. Moffat supposed. I suspect that this wise man remarked Mr. March with blessed satisfaction from the hearthrug after the last guest had gone. I know he is a good one, added Mrs. March with decided approval as she wound up the clock. I thought you'd like him was all Joe's head as she slipped away to her bed. She wondered what business was that brought Mr. Barr to the city and finally decided that he had been appointed to some great honor somewhere but had been too modest to mention the fact. If she had seen his face then, safe in his own room looked at the picture of a severe and rigid young lady with a good deal of hair who appeared to be gazing darkly into futurity it might have thrown some light upon the subject especially when he turned off the gas and kissed the picture in the dark. End of Chapter 20 Recording by Ellie, August 2009 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 Mrs. Lawrence sitting in her mother's lap as if being made the baby again. Certainly, my dear, I forgot you had any home but this and Mrs. 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 weather cock can without the 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 around 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. Hey, 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 were rummaging after 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? Ask Joe, buttoning Amy's cloak as she used to button her penifors. 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? Ask Mrs. Marsh, well pleased at Laurie's decision and the energy with which he spoke. After doing the civil all round 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, Madame Ricarnier? Ask Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy. Time will show. Come away impertnance 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. Marsh, finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple had gone. Yes, and I think it will last, added Mrs. Marsh 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 Bayer 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, Mrs. 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 never should 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 that they intend to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it was your duty to make a rich match. That accounts, perhaps, for your 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 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? Girls do it every day poor things and are taught to think it is their only salvation. But you had better lessons and though I'd trembled for you at one time I was not disappointed for the daughter was true to her 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 are not listening to my moral remarks, Mrs. Lawrence. Laurie paused for Amy's eyes had an absent look though fixed upon his face. Yes, I am and admiring the dimple 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. Do you care if Joe does marry Mr. Bayer? 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 her heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my monami? Amy looked up at him and was satisfied. Her little jealous fear vanished forever and she thanked him with a face full of love and confidence. I wish we had 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 is 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 and professorines 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 paying their honest debts. So I'll get round 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. Oh, 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 gentle folks fare badly because they won't ask and people don't dare to offer charity. Yet there are a thousand ways of helping them if one 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 blammering beggar. I suppose it's wrong but I do, though it is harder. Because it takes a gentleman to do it, added the other member of the Domestic Admirations Society. Thank you. I'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment but I was going to say that while I was dawdling about 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 admiration 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 while 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 belong 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, Larry, and often have to see youth, help, 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 Larry, resolving with a glow of philanthropic zeal to found 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 dorkle, going about emptying a big basket 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. End of Chapter 21 Recording by Linda McDaniel, Atlanta, Georgia, January 2009. Chapter 22 of Good Wives This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lorian Hardy. Good Wives by Louisa May Alcott. Chapter 22, 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 too, which is more than many of their elders do. If there ever were a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoiled by adoration, it was these praddling brooks. Of course, they were the most remarkable children ever born, as will be shown when I mention that they walked at eight months, talked fluently at twelve months, and at two years they took their places at table and behaved with the 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 a 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 united 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 sewing sheen, a mysterious structure of string, chairs, clothespins, and spools for wheels to go round and round. Also a basket hung over the back of a chair in which he vainly tried to hoist his two confiding sister, who, with feminine devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued when the young inventor indignantly remarked, Why, Marmar, that's my levy 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 gallantly 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, sunshiney 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 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 worshipers. 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 dovecoat would be blessed by the present 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 that which had lately taught them how long they had entertained an angel unawares. 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 womenfolk. What makes my legs go drampa? asked the young philosophers surveying those active portions of his frame with a meditative air while resting after I 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 is 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 wound. I can't do that any more than you could 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 wound it 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 the watch and then gravely remarked, I guess Dodd does it when eyes asleep. A careful explanation followed to which he listened so attentively that his anxious grandmother said, My dear, do you think it wise to talk about such things to that baby? He's getting great bumps over his eyes and learning to ask the most unanswerable questions. If he's old enough to ask the question, he is 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 Alcibiades by the God's 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 met gentlemen could only join in grandma's laugh and dismiss the class in metaphysics. There might have been cause for maternal anxiety if Demi had not given convincing proofs that he was a true boy as well as a budding philosopher for often after discussion which caused Hannah to prophesy 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 evasions 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 an opportunity comes to redress them he outwits mama by a shrewd bargain. Now you have 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 Marmar asked 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 times over or to take her family to buy a penny-bun regardless of wind or limb. But Demi corners her by the cool reply. Then we'll go up and eat all the raisins. Aunt Dodo was chief playmate and confidant of both the children and the trio turned the little house topsy-turvy. Aunt Amy was as yet only a name to them. Aunt Beth soon faded into a pleasantly vague memory but Aunt Dodo was a living reality and they made the most of her for which compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bear came Joe neglected her playfellows and dismay and desolation fell upon their little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses lost her best customer and became bankrupt. Demi with 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 had in 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 its 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 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 counterfeit fellow progenitiveness 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 were 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 evening 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 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 them at 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-stocking 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 with the black legs and up came the gray head as the preceptor said with an undisturbed dignity. Good evening, Mr. Bear. Excuse me for a moment. We are just finishing our lesson. Now, Demi, make the letter and tell 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, drapa, 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 today, Bobchin? asked Mr. Bear, picking up the gymnast. Me went to see little Mary. And what did you do there? I kissed her, began Demi, with artless frankness. Prr, 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 into your head? said Joe, enjoying the innocent revelation as much as a professor. Tisen in my 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 the look that made her wonder if chocolate was not the nectar drunk by the gods. Demi also saw the smile, was impressed by it, and artlessly inquired, do great boys like great girls too, fesser? 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 clothesbrush, 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 breath out of his little body with a tender embrace, instead of shaking him for being there, and why she followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gift of a big slice of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled his small wits and was forced to leave unsolved forever. End of Chapter 22 Recording by Lori and Hardy, North Platte, Nebraska, October 2008. Chapter 23 of Good Wives This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Arielle Lipshaw. Good Wives by Louisa Mayalkott. Chapter 23 Under the Umbrella While Lori and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets as they set their house in order and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bear and Joe were enjoying promenades of the different sort along muddy roads and sodden fields. I always do take a walk toward evening and I don't know why I should give it up just because I happened to meet the professor on his way out, said Joe to herself, after two or three encounters, for though there were two paths to Megs, whichever one she took she was sure to meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly and never seemed to see her until quite close when he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Megs, he always had something for the babies. If her face was turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river and was just returning unless they were tired of his frequent calls. Under the circumstances, what could Joe do but greet him civilly and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits, she concealed her weariness with perfect skill and took care that there should be coffee for supper as Friedrich, I mean Mr. Bear, doesn't like tea. By the second week everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in Joe's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair three times a day and got so blooming with her evening exercise and no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bear, while talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons in love. Joe couldn't even lose her heart in a decorous manner but sternly tried to quench her feelings and failing to do so led a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering after her many envioment declarations of independence. Lori was her special dread. But thanks to the new manager he behaved with praiseworthy propriety, never called Mr. Bear a capital old fellow in public, never eluded in the remotest manner to Joe's improved appearance or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's hat on the marches table nearly every evening. But he exalted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Joe a piece of plate with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat of arms. For a fortnight the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober and Joe to be compensive at first and then, alas for romance, very cross. Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's nothing to me, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us good-bye like a gentleman, she said to herself, with the despairing look at the gate as she put on her things for the customary walk one dull afternoon. You'd better take that little umbrella, dear. It looks like rain, said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact. Yes, Marmy, do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get some paper, returned Joe, pulling out the bow under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother. Yes, I want some twilled sylegia, a paper of number nine needles and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on and something warm under your cloak? I believe so, answered Joe absently. If you happen to meet Mr. Bear, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man, added Mrs. March. Joe heard that, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother and walk rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite of her heartache, how good she is to me. What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles? The dry goods stores were not down among the counting houses, banks, and wholesale ware rooms where gentlemen most do congregate. But Joe found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loitering along as if waiting for someone, examining engineering instruments in one window and samples of wool in another with most unfeminine interest, tumbling over barrels, being half smothered by descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered how the deuce she got there. A drop of rain on her cheek recalled her thoughts from baffled hopes to ruined ribbons. For the drops continued to fall, and being a woman as well as a lover, she felt that, though it was too late to say per heart, she might herb on it. Now she remembered the little umbrella which she had forgotten to take in her hurry to be off. But regret was unavailing, and nothing could be done but borrow one or submit to adrenching. She looked up at the lowering sky, down at the crimson bow already flecked with black, forward along the muddy street, then one long, lingering look behind at a certain grimy warehouse with Hoffman Swartz and Co. over the door and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air, it serves me right. What business had I to put on all my best things and come full-andering down here, hoping to see the professor? Joe, I'm ashamed of you. No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella or find out where he is from his friends. You shall trudge away and do your errands in the rain, and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now, then. With that, she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck and precipitated herself into the arms of a stately old gentleman who said, I beg pardon, ma'am, and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Joe righted herself, spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons and, putting temptation behind her, hurried on with increasing dampness about the ankles and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet attracted her attention, and looking up, she saw Mr. Bear looking down. I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse noses and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my friend? I'm shopping. Mr. Bear smiled, as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale hide-and-leather concern on the other, but he only said politely, you have no umbrella. May I go also, and take for you the bundles? Yes, thank you. Joe's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought of her, but she didn't care. For in a minute she found herself walking away, arm in arm with her professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day. We thought you had gone, said Joe hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidingly. Did you believe that I should go, with no farewell to those who have been so heavenly kind to me? He asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily, No, I didn't. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you, father and mother especially. And you? I'm always glad to see you, sir. In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Joe made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the professor, for his smile vanished, as he said gravely, I thank you, and come one more time before I go. You are going then. I have no longer any business here. It is done. Successfully, I hope, said Joe, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his. I ought to think so, for a half a way opened to me by which I can make my bread and give my yunglings much help. Tell me, please. I like to know all about the, the boys, said Joe eagerly. That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in a college where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way smooth for Franz and Emile. For this I should be grateful, should I not? Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like, and be able to see you often and the boys, cried Joe, clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying. Ah! But we shall not meet often, I fear. This place is at the west. So far away. And Joe left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself. Mr. Bear could read several languages, but he had not learned to read women yet. He flattered himself that he knew Joe pretty well, and was therefore much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face, and manner, which she showed him in rapid succession that day, for she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose. When he offered her his arm, she took it with a look that filled him with delight. But when he asked if she missed him, she gave such a chilly formal reply that despair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clapped her hands. Was the joy all for the boys? Then, on hearing his destination, she said, so far away, in a tone of despair that lifted him onto a pinnacle of hope, but the next minute she tumbled him down again by observing, like one entirely absorbed in the matter, here's the place for my errands. Will you come in? It won't take long. Joe rather prided herself upon her shopping capabilities, and particularly wished to impress her escort with the neatness and dispatch with which she would accomplish the business. But owing to the flutter she was in, everything went amiss. She upset the tray of needles, forgot the Silesia was to be twilled till it was cut off, gave the wrong change, and covered herself with confusion by asking for lavender ribbon at the Calico counter. Mr. Bear stood by, watching her blush and blunder, and as he watched, his own bewilderment seemed to subside, for he was beginning to see that on some occasions women, like dreams, go by contraries. When they came out, he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole. Should we not do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and have a farewell feast tonight if I go for my last call at your so pleasant home? He asked, stopping before a window full of fruit and flowers. What will we buy? asked Joe, ignoring the latter part of his speech and sniffing the mingled odors with an affectation of delight as they went in. May they have oranges and figs? asked Mr. Bear with the paternal air. They eat them when they can get them. Do you care for nuts? like a squirrel. Hember grapes. Yes, we shall drink to the fatherland in those. Joe frowned upon that piece of extravagance and asked why he didn't buy a frail of dates, a cask of raisins, and a bag of almonds and be done with it. Where at Mr. Bear confiscated her purse, produced his own, and finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies and a pretty jar of honey to be regarded in the light of a demi-john. Then, distorting his pockets with knobby bundles and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella and they travelled on again. Miss Marsh, a half a great favour to ask of you, began the Professor after a moist promenade of half a block. Yes, sir. And Joe's heart began to beat so hard she was afraid he would hear it. I am bold to say it in spite of the rain because so short a time remains to me. Yes, sir. And Joe nearly crushed the small flowerpot with the sudden squeeze she gave it. I wished to get a little dress for my Tina and I am too stupid to go alone. Will you kindly give me a word of taste and help? Yes, sir. And Joe felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a refrigerator. Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother. She is so poor and sick and the husband is such a care. Yes. Yes, a thick warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother. I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bear. I'm going very fast and he's getting dearer every minute, added Joe to herself. Then, with a mental shake, she entered into the business with an energy that was pleasant to behold. Mr. Bear left it all to her. So she chose a pretty gown for Tina and then ordered out the shawls. The clerk, being a married man, condescended to take an interest in the couple who appeared to be shopping for their family. Your lady may prefer this. It's a superior article, a most desirable color, quite chaste and genteel, he said, shaking out a comfortable gray shawl and throwing it over Joe's shoulders. Does this suit you, Mr. Bear? She asked, turning her back to him and feeling deeply grateful for the chance of hiding her face. Excellently well, we will have it, answered the professor, smiling to himself as he paid for it while Joe continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain-hunter. Now shall we go home, he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to him. Yes, it's late and I'm so tired. Joe's voice was more pathetic than she knew. For now the sun seemed to have gone in as suddenly as it came out and the world grew muddy and miserable again. And for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached and that her heart was colder than the former, fuller of pain than the latter. Mr. Bear was going away. He only cared for her as a friend. It was all a mistake and the sooner it was over, the better. With this idea in her head, she hailed an approaching omnibus with such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged. This is not our omnibus, said the professor, waving the loaded vehicle away and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers. I beg your pardon. I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can walk. I'm used to plotting in the mud, returned Joe, winking hard because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes. Mr. Bear saw the drops on her cheeks though she turned her head away. The sight seemed to touch him very much. For suddenly stooping down, he asked in a tone that meant a great deal. Hearts, dearest, why do you cry? Now, if Joe had not been new to this sort of thing, she would have said she wasn't crying, had a cold in her head, or told any other feminine fib proper to the occasion, instead of which that undignified creature answered with an irrepressible sob, because you are going away. Ah, mind-got, that is so good, cried Mr. Bear, managing to clasp his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles. Joe, I have nothing but much love to give you. I came to see if you could care for it, and I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can you make a little place in your heart for old fritz, he added, all in one breath? Oh, yes, said Joe, and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his arm, and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the old umbrella, if he carried it. It was certainly proposing under difficulties. For even if he had desired to do so, Mr. Bear could not go down upon his knees on account of the mud. Neither could he offer Joe his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street, though he was near it. So the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not loved Joe very much, I don't think he could have done it then, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle, and her bonnet a ruin. Fortunately, Mr. Bear considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more jove-like than ever, though his hat-brim was quite limp with the little rills trickling thence upon his shoulders, for he held the umbrella all over Joe, and every finger of his gloves needed mending. Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a bus, and strolled leisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss, while Joe trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course she was the first to speak. Intelligibly, I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous, oh, yes, were not of a coherent or reportable character. Friedrich, why didn't you? Ah, heaven, she gives me the name that no one speaks since Mina died, cried the professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight. I always call you so to myself. I forgot, but I won't unless you like it. Like it? It is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say thou, also, and I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine. Isn't thou a little sentimental, asked Joe, privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable? Sentimental? Yes. Thank God we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep ourselves young with it. Your English U is so cold. Say thou, hearts dearest, it means so much to me, pleaded Mr. Bear, more like a romantic student than a grave professor. Well, then, why didn't thou tell me all this sooner, asked Joe bashfully? Now I shall have to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will, because thou must take care of it hereafter. See, then, my Joe, ah, the dear, funny little name. I had a wish to tell something the day I said goodbye in New York, but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou have said yes, then, if I had spoken? I don't know. I'm afraid not, for I didn't have any heart just then. Prute! That I do not believe. It was asleep till the fairy prince came through the wood, and waked it up. Ah, well! De erst lebe est beste, but that I should not expect. Yes, the first love is the best, so be contented, for I never had another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy, said Joe, anxious to correct the professor's mistake. Good. Then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I have waited so long I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, professoreen. I like that, cried Joe, delighted with her new name. Now tell me what brought you, at last, just when I wanted you. This. And Mr. Bear took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat pocket. Joe unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her sending it an occasional attempt. How could that bring you, she asked, wondering what he meant. I found it by chance. I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him. I will see that you go not in the wet. In the garret. Four little chests all in a row, dim with dust and worn by time. All fashioned and filled long ago, by children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side, with faded ribbons brave and gay, when fastened there with childish pride, long ago on a rainy day. Four little names, one on each lid, carved out by a boyish hand, and underneath their lyeth hid, histories of the happy band once playing here, and pausing oft to hear the sweet refrain, that came and went on the roof aloft, in the falling summer rain. Mag on the first lid, smooth and fair, I look in with loving eyes, forfolded here with well-known care, a goodly gathering lies. The record of a peaceful life, gifts to gentle child and girl, a bridal gown, lines to a wife, a tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, for all are carried away, in their old age to join again, in another small Meg's play. A happy mother, well I know you hear, like a sweet refrain, lullabies ever soft and low, in the falling summer rain. Joe on the next lid, scratched and worn, and within a motley store, of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn, birds and beasts that speak no more. Spoils brought home from the fairy ground, only trod by youthful feet, dreams of a future never found, memories of a past still sweet. Half-rit poems, stories wild, April letters warm and cold, diaries of a willful child, hints of a woman early old. A woman in a lonely home, hearing like a sad refrain, be worthy love and love will come, in the falling summer rain. My Beth, the dust is always swept from the lid that bears your name, as if by loving eyes that wept, by careful hands that often came. Death canonized for us one saint, ever less human than divine, and still we lay with tender plaint, relics in this household shrine. The silver bell, so seldom rung, the little cap which last she wore, the fair dead Catherine that hung by angels born above her door, the song she sang without lament, in her prison house of pain. Forever are they sweetly blent, with the falling summer rain. Upon the last lids polished field, legend now both fair and true, a gallant knight bears on his shield, Amy, in letters gold and blue. Within lies snooze that bound her hair, slippers that have danced their last, faded flowers laid by with care, fans whose airy toils are past. Gay valentines, all ardent flames, trifles that have borne their part in girlish hopes and fears and shames, the record of a maiden heart, now learning fairer, truer spells, hearing, like a blithe refrain, the silver sound of bridal bells, in the falling summer rain. Four little chests all in a row, dim with dust and worn by time, four women taught by wheel and woe, to love and labor in their prime. Four sisters, parted for an hour, none lost, one only gone before, made by love's immortal power, nearest and dearest evermore. Oh, when these hidden stores of ours lie open to the Father's sight, may they be rich in golden hours, deeds that show fairer for the light, lives whose brave music long shall ring, like a spirit-stirring strain, souls that shall gladly soar and sing, in the long sunshine after rain. It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it. One day when I was very lonely, and had a good cry on a rag-bag, I never thought it would go where it could tell tales, said Joe, tearing up the verses the Professor had treasured so long. Let it go. It has done its duty, and I will have a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets, said Mr. Bear with a smile, as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. Yes, he added earnestly, I read that, and I think to myself, she has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I have a heart full, full for her. Shall I not go and say, if this is not too poor a thing to give for what I shall hope to receive, take it in God's name? And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed, whispered Joe. I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your welcome to me. But soon I began to hope, and then I said, I will have her if I die for it, and so I will, cried Mr. Bear, with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount, or valiantly knock down. Joe thought that was splendid, and resolved to be worthy of her night, though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array. What made you stay away so long, she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers that she could not keep silent? It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home, until I could have a prospect of one to give you, after much time perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to give up so much for a poor old fellow who has no fortune but a little learning? I'm glad you are poor. I couldn't bear a rich husband, said Joe decidedly, adding in a softer tone. Don't fear poverty. I've known it long enough to lose my dread, and be happy working for those I love, and don't call yourself old. Forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy. The Professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief, if he could have got at it. As he couldn't, Joe wiped his eyes for him, and said, laughing as she took away a bundle or two, I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I'm out of my sphere now. For woman's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens. I'm to carry my share, Friedrich, and help to earn the home. Make up your mind to that or I'll never go, she added resolutely, as he tried to reclaim his load. We shall see. Have you patience to wait a long time, Joe? I must go away and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because even for you I may not break my word to Mina. Can you forgive that, and be happy while we hope and wait? Yes, I know I can, for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty also, and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them, even for you, so there's no need of hurry or impatience. You can do your part out west, I can do mine here, and both be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills. Ah! Thou givest me such hope and courage, and I have nothing to give back, but a full heart and these empty hands, cried the Professor, quite overcome. Joe never, never would learn to be proper, for when he said that, as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, not empty now, and stooping down, and kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the flock of dragletailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for she was very far gone indeed, and quite regardless of everything but her own happiness. Though it came in such a very simple guise, that was the crowning moment of both their lives, when, turning from the night, and storm, and loneliness, to the household light, and warmth, and peace waiting to receive them, with a glad welcome home, Joe led her lover in, and shut the door. End of Chapter 23. Recording by Ariel Lipschaw in New York City. Chapter 24 of Good Wives This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Laurie and Hardy. Good Wives by Louisa Mayalcott. Chapter 24. Harvest Time For a year, Joe and her professor worked and waited, hoped and loved, met occasionally, and wrote such voluminous letters that the rise and the price of paper was accounted for, Laurie said. The second year began rather soberly, for their prospects did not brighten, and Aunt March died suddenly. But when their first sorrow was over, for they loved the old lady in spite of her sharp tongue, they found they had cause for rejoicing, for she had left Plumfield to Joe, which made all sorts of joyful things possible. It's a final place, and will bring a handsome sum, for of course you intend to sell it, said Laurie, as they were all talking the matter over some weeks later. No, I don't, was Joe's decided answer, as she petted the fat poodle whom she had adopted, out of respect to his former mistress. You don't mean to live there? Yes, I do. But my dear girl, it's an immense house, and will take a power of many to keep it in order. The garden and orchard alone need two or three men, and farming isn't in Bear's line, I take it. He'll try his hand at it there, if I propose it. And do you expect to live on the produce of the place? Well, that sounds paradisical, but you'll find it desperate hard work. The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one, and Joe laughed. Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma'am? Boys, I want to open a school for little lads, a good, happy, home-like school, with me to take care of them and Fritz to teach them. That's a truly joey and plan for you. Isn't that just like her, Creadlory, appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised as he? I like it, said Mrs. March decidedly. So do I, added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance for trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth? It will be an immense care for Joe, said Meg, stroking the head of her one, all-absorbing son. Joe can do it, and be happy in it. It's a splendid idea. Tell us all about it, cried Mr. Lawrence, who had been longing to lend the lovers a hand, but knew that they would refuse his help. I knew you'd stand by me, sir. Amy does too. I see it in her eyes, though she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before she speaks. Now, my dear people, continued Joe honestly, just understand that this isn't a new idea of mine, but a long, cherished plan. Before my fritz came, I used to think how, when I'd made my fortune, and no one needed me at home, I'd hire a big house, and pick up some poor-for-long little lads who hadn't any mothers, and take care of them, and make life jolly for them before it was too late. I see so many going to ruin for want of help at the right minute. I love so to do anything for them. I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize with their troubles, and, oh, I should so like to be a mother to them. Mrs. March held out her hand to Joe, who took it, smiling with tears in her eyes, and went on in the old enthusiastic way, which they had not seen for a long while. I told my plan to fritz once, and he said it was just what he would like, and decided to try it when we got rich. Bless his dear heart, he's been doing it all his life. Helping poor boys, I mean, not getting rich, that he'll never be. Money doesn't stay in his pocket long enough to lay up any. But now, thanks to my good old aunt, who loved me better than I ever deserved, I'm rich. At least I feel so, and we can live at Plumfield perfectly well, if we have a flourishing school. It's just the place for boys. The house is big, and the furniture strong and plain. There's plenty of room for dozens inside and splendid grounds outside. They could help in the garden and orchard. Such work is healthy, isn't it, sir? Then fritz could train and teach in his own way, and father will help him. I can feed and nurse and pet and scold them, and mother will be my standby. I've always longed for lots of boys and never had enough. Now I can feel the house full and revel in the little deers to my heart's content. Think what luxury. Plumfield my own, and the wilderness of boys to enjoy it with me. As Joe waved her hands and gave a sigh of rapture, the family went off into a gale of merriment, and Mr. Lawrence laughed till they thought he'd have an apoplectic fit. I don't see anything funny, she said gravely, when she could be heard. Nothing could be more natural and proper than for my professor to open a school, and for me to prefer to reside in my own estate. She's putting on airs already, said Lori, who regarded the idea in the light of a capital joke. But may I inquire how you intend to support the establishment? If all the pupils are little ragamuffins, I'm afraid your crop won't be profitable in a worldly sense, Mrs. Bear. Now don't be a wet blanket, Teddy. Of course I shall have rich pupils. Also, perhaps begin with such altogether. Then, when I've got a start, I can take in a ragamuffin or two, just for a relish. Rich people's children often need care and comfort, as well as poor. I've seen unfortunate little creatures left to servants, or backward ones pushed forward, when it's real cruelty. Some are naughty through mismanagement or neglect, and some lose their mothers. Besides, the best have to get through the hobbledyhoi age, and that's the very time they need most patience and kindness. Some people laugh at them, and hustle them about, try to keep them out of sight, and expect them to turn all at once from pretty children into fine young men. They don't complain much, plucky little souls, but they feel it. I've been through something of it, and I know all about it. I have a special interest in such young bears, and I like to show them that I see the warm, honest, well-meaning boy's hearts, in spite of the clumsy arms and legs and the topsy-turvy heads. I've had experience, too, for having I brought up one boy to be a pride and honor to his family. I'll testify that you tried to do it, said Lori, with a grateful look. And I've succeeded beyond my hopes, for here you are, a steady, sensible businessman, doing heaps of good with your money, and laying up the blessings of the poor instead of dollars. But you're not merely a businessman. You love good and beautiful things. Enjoy them yourself, and let others go half, as you always did in the old times. I am proud of you, Teddy, for you get better every year, and everyone feels it, though you won't let them say so. Yes, and when I have my flock, I'll just point to you and say, there's your model, my lads. Poor Lori didn't know where to look, for, man though he was, something of the old bashfulness came over him, as this burst of praise made all faces turn approvingly upon him. I say, Joe, that's rather too much, he began, just in his old boyish way. You have all done more for me than I can ever thank you for, except by doing my best not to disappoint you. You have rather cast me off lately, Joe, but I've had the best of help, nevertheless. So if I've got on at all, you may thank these two for it. And he laid one hand gently on his grandfather's head, and the other on Amy's golden one, for the three were never far apart. I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world, burst out, Joe, who was in an unusually uplifted frame of mind just then. When I have one of my own, I hope it will be as happy as the three I know and love the best. If John and my frits were only here, it would be quite a little heaven on earth, as she added more quietly. And that night, when she went to her room after a blissful evening of family councils, hopes, and plans, her heart was so full of happiness that she could only calm it by kneeling beside the empty bed, always near her own, and thinking tender thoughts of Beth. It was a very astonishing year altogether, for things seemed to happen in an unusually rapid and delightful manner. Almost before she knew where she was, Joe found herself married and settled at Plumfield. Then a family of six or seven boys sprung up like mushrooms, and flourished surprisingly. Poor boys as well as rich, for Mr. Lawrence was continually finding some touching case of destitution, and begging the bears to take pity on the child, and he would gladly pay a trifle for his support. In this way, the sly old gentleman got round-proud, Joe, and furnished her with a style of boy in which she most delighted. Of course, it was uphill work at first, and Joe made queer mistakes, but the wise professor steered her safely into calmer waters, and the most rampant ragamuffin was conquered in the end. How Joe did enjoy her wilderness of boys, and how poor dear Aunt March would have lamented had she been there to see the sacred precincts of prim well-ordered Plumfield overrun with toms, dicks, and harries. There was a sort of poetic justice about it, after all, for the old lady had been the terror of the boys for miles around, and now the exiles feasted freely on forbidden plums, kicked up the gravel with profane boots, unreproved, and played cricket in the big field where the irritable cow with a crumpled horn used to invite rash youths to come and be tossed. It became a sort of boys' paradise, and Lori suggested that it should be called the Beargarten, as a compliment to its master and appropriate to its inhabitants. It never was a fashionable school, and the professor did not lay up a fortune, but it was just what Joe intended it to be, a happy, home-like place for boys who needed teaching, care, and kindness. Every room in the big house was soon full. Every little plot in the garden soon had its owner. A regular menagerie appeared in barn and shed for pet animals were allowed, and three times a day, Joe smiled at her fritz from the head of a long table, lined on either side with rows of happy young faces, which all turned to her with affectionate eyes, confiding words and grateful hearts, full of love for Mother Bear. She had boys enough now and did not tire of them, though they were not angels by any means, and some of them caused both professor and professoring much trouble and anxiety. But her faith in the good spot which exists in the heart of the naughtiest, sauciest, most tantalizing little ragamuffin gave her patience, skill, and in time success, for no mortal boy could hold out long with Father Bear shining on him as benevolently as the son, and Mother Bear forgiving him seventy times seven. Very precious to Joe was the friendship of the lads, their penitent sniffs and whispers after wrongdoing, their droll or touching little confidences, their pleasant enthousiasms, hopes, and plans, even their misfortunes, for they only endeared them to her all the more. There were slow boys and bashful boys, feeble boys and riotous boys, boys that list and boys that stuttered, one or two lame ones and a merry little quadroon who could not be taken in elsewhere who was welcomed to the Bear Garden. Though some people predicted that his mission would ruin the school. Yes, Joe was a very happy woman there in spite of hard work, much anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She enjoyed it heartily and found the applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of the world. For now she told no stories except to her flock of enthusiastic believers and admirers. As the years went on, two little lads of her own came to increase her happiness. Rob, named for Grandpa, and Teddy, a happy-go-lucky baby who seemed to have inherited his papa's son's shiny temper as well as his mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up alive in that whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts, but they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough nurses loved and served them well. There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the marches, Lawrence's brooks and bears turned out in full force and made a day of it. Five years after Joe's wedding one of these fruitful events occurred, a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirit's rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore its holiday attire, golden rod and asters fringed the mossy walls, grasshoppers skipped briskly in the seagrass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting, birds twittered their adieu from the alders in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake. Everybody was there. Everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled down. Everybody declared there had never been such a perfect day, or such a jolly set to enjoy it, and everyone gave themselves up to the simple pleasures of the hour, as freely as if there were no such things, as care or sorrow in the world. Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting, Professor, Collie, and Colomella to Mr. Lawrence, while enjoying the gentle apple's whiny juice. The Professor charged up and down the green aisles like a stout teotonic knight, with a pole for a lance, leading on the boys who made a hook-and-latter company of themselves, and performed wonders in the way of ground and lofty tumbling. Lori devoted himself to the little ones, wrote his small daughter in a bushel-basket, took Daisy up among the bird's nest, and kept a ventrous rob from breaking his neck. Mrs. March and Meg sat among the apple-piles, like a pair of Pomones, sorting the contributions that kept pouring in, while Amy, with a beautiful motherly expression in her face, sketched the various groups, and watched over one pale lad, who sat adoring her with his little crutch beside him. Joe was in her element that day, and rushed about with her gown pinned up in her hat anywhere but on her head, and her baby tucked under her arm, ready for any lively adventure which might turn up. Little Teddy bore a charmed life, for nothing ever happened to him, and Joe never felt any anxiety when he was whisked up into a tree by one lad, galloped off on the back of another, or supplied with sour russets by his indulgent papa, who labored under the Germanic delusions that babies could digest anything, from pickled cabbage to buttons, nails, and their own small shoes. She knew that Little Ted would turn up again in time, safe and rosy, dirty and serene, and she always received him back with a hearty welcome, for Joe loved her babies tenderly. At four o'clock, a lull took place, and baskets remained empty, while the apple-pickers rested and compared rents and bruises. Then Joe and Meg, with a detachment of the bigger boys, set forth the supper on the grass, for an out-of-door tea was always the crowning joy of the day. The land literally flowed with milk and honey on such occasions, for the lads were not required to sit at table, but allowed to partake of refreshment as they liked, freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul. They availed themselves of the rare privilege to the fullest extent, for some tried the pleasing experiment of drinking milk while standing on their heads, others lent a charm to leapfrog by eating pie in the pauses of the game, cookies were sown broadcast over the field and apple turnovers roosted in the trees like a new style of bird. The little girls had a private tea party, and Ted roved among the edibles at his own sweet will. When no one could eat any more, the professor proposed the first regular toast, which was always drunk at such times. At March, God bless her. A toast heartily given by the good man who never forgot how much he owed her and quietly drunk by the boys who had been taught to keep her memory green. Now, grandma's sixtieth birthday, long life to her with three times three. That was given with a will, as you may believe, and the cheering once begun was hard to stop it. Everybody's health was proposed from Mr. Lawrence, who was considered their special patron, to the astonished guinea pig who had strayed from its proper sphere in search of its young master. Demi, as the oldest grandchild, then presented the queen of the day with various gifts, so numerous that they were transported to the festive scene in a wheelbarrow. Funny presents, some of them, but what would have been defects to other eyes were ornaments to grandmas, for the children's gifts were all their own. Every stitch Daisy's patient little fingers had put into the handkerchief she hemmed was better than embroidery to Mrs. March. Demi's miracle of mechanical skill, though the cover wouldn't shut, Robb's footstool had a wiggle in its uneven legs that she declared was soothing, and no page of the costly book Amy's Child gave her was so fair as that on which appeared in tipsy capitals, the words, to dear grandma from her little beth. During the ceremony the boys had mysteriously disappeared, and when Mrs. March had tried to thank her children and broken down, while Teddy wiped her eyes on his pinafore, the professor suddenly began to sing. Then from above him voice after voice took up the words, and from tree to tree echoed the music of the unseen choir, as the boys sang with all their hearts the little song that Joe had written, Laurie set to music, and the professor trained his lads to give with the best effect. This was something altogether new, and it proved a grand success, for Mrs. March couldn't get over her surprise and insisted on shaking hands with every one of the featherless birds, from tall frowns and emmel to the little quadroon who had the sweetest voice of all. After this the boys dispersed for a final lark, leaving Mrs. March and her daughters under the festival tree. I don't think I ever ought to call myself unlucky Joe again when my greatest wish has been so beautifully gratified, said Mrs. Bear, taking Teddy's little fist out of the milk pitcher in which he was rapturously churning. And yet your life is very different from the one you pictured so long ago. Do you remember our castles in the air, asked Amy, smiling as she watched Laurie and John playing cricket with the boys? Dear fellows, it does my heart good to see them forget business and frolic for a day, answered Joe, who now spoke in a maternal way of all mankind. Yes, I remember, but the life I wanted then seemed selfish, lonely, and cold to me now. I hadn't given up the hope that I may write a good book yet, but I can wait, and I'm sure it will be all the better for such experiences and illustrations as these. And Joe pointed from the lively lads in the distance to her father, leaning on the professor's arm as they walked to and fro in the sunshine, deep in one of the conversations which both enjoyed so much, and then to her mother, sitting enthroned among her daughters with their children in her lap and at her feet, as if all found help and happiness in the face which could never grow old to them. My castle was the most nearly realized of all. I asked for splendid things to be sure, but in my heart I knew I should be satisfied if I had a little home and John and some dear children like these. I've got them all, thank God, and am the happiest woman in the world. And Meg laid her hand on her tall boy's head with a face full of tender and devout content. My castle is very different from what I planned, but I would not alter it, though like Joe I don't relinquish all my artistic hopes or confine myself to helping others fulfill their dreams of beauty. I've begun to model a figure of baby, and Laurie says it is the best thing I've ever done. I think so myself and mean to do it in marble so that whatever happens, I may at least keep the image of my little angel. As Amy spoke, a great tear dropped on the golden hair of the sleeping child in her arms for her one well-beloved daughter was a frail little creature, and the dread of losing her was the shadow over Amy's sunshine. This cross was doing much for both father and mother for one love and sorrow bound them closely together. Amy's nature was growing sweeter, deeper, and more tender. Laurie was growing more serious, strong, and firm, and both were learning that beauty, youth, good fortune, even love itself cannot keep care and pain, loss and sorrow, from the most blessed. For into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and sad and dreary. She's growing better, I'm sure of it, my dear. Don't despond, but hope and keep happy, said Mrs. March, as tender-hearted Daisy stooped from her knee to lay her rosy cheek against her little cousin's pale one. I never ought to, while I have you to cheer me up. Marmy and Laurie, to take more than half of every burden, replied Amy Wernley. He never lets me see his anxiety, but is so sweet and patient with me, so devoted to Beth, and such a stay and comfort to me always, that I can't love him enough. So, in spite of my one cross, I can say with make, Thank God, I am a happy woman. There's no need for me to say it, for everyone can see that I'm far happier than I deserve, added Joe, glancing from her good husband to her chubby children, tumbling on the grass beside her. Fritz is getting gray and stout, I'm growing as thin as a shadow and I'm thirty. We shall never be rich, and Plumfield may burn up any night, for that incorrigible Tommy Banks will smoke sweet-furned cigars under the bedclothes, though he set himself afire three times already. But in spite of these unromantic facts, I have nothing to complain of, and never was so jolly in my life. Excuse the remark, but living among boys, I can't help using their expressions now and then. Yes, Joe, I think your harvest will be a good one, began Mrs. March, frightening away a big black cricket that was staring teddy out of countenance. Not half so good as yours, Mother. Here it is, and we never can thank you enough for the patient sewing and reaping you have done, cried Joe, with the loving and petuosity which you would never outgrow. I hope there will be more wheat and fewer tears every year, said Amy softly. A large sheaf, but I know there's room in your heart for it, Marmy dear, added Meg's tender voice. Touched to the heart, Mrs. March could only stretch out her arms as if to gather children and grandchildren to herself, and say with face and voice full of motherly love, gratitude, and humility, O my girls, however long you may live, I can never wish you a greater happiness than this. End Chapter Twenty-Four. End of Good Wives, by Louisa May Alcott. Read by Lorian Hardy, North Platte, Nebraska, November 2008.