 Chapter 42 of Little Women. For more information, and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Riddleman, Riddleman.net. Little Women by Louisa Mayelko, Chapter 42. It was easy to promise self-abnegation when self was wrapped up in another, and heart and soul were purified by a sweet example. But when the helpful voice was silent, the daily lesson over, the beloved presence gone, and nothing remained but loneliness and grief, then Joe found her promise very hard to keep. How could she comfort father and mother when her own heart ached with a ceaseless longing for her sister? How could she make the house cheerful when all its light and warmth and beauty seemed to have deserted it when Beth left the old home for the new, and wherein all the world could she find some useful, happy work to do that would take the place of the loving service which had been its own reward? She tried in a blind, hopeless way to do her duty, secretly rebelling against it all the while, for it seemed unjust that her few joys should have lessened her burdens made heavier, and life get harder and harder as she toiled along. Some people seemed to get old sunshine, and some old shadow. It was not fair for she tried more than Amy to be good, and never got any reward only disappointment, trouble, and hard work. Poor Joe, these were dark days to her, for something like despair came over her when she thought of spending all her life in that quiet house devoted to humdrum cares, a few small pleasures, and the duty that never seemed to grow any easier. I can't do it, I wasn't meant for a life like this, and I know I shall break away and do something desperate if somebody doesn't come along and help me, she said to herself, when her first efforts failed, and she fell into the moody, miserable state of mind which often comes when strong wills have to yield to the inevitable. But someone did come and help her, though Joe did not recognize her good angels at once because they were familiar shapes and used the simple spells best fitted to the poor humanity. Often she started up at night, thinking Beth called her, and when the sight of the little empty bed made her cry with the bitter cry of unsubmissive sorrow, oh Beth, come back, come back! She did not stretch out her yearning arms in vain. For as quick to hear her sobbing as she had been to hear her sister's faintest whisper, her mother came to comfort her. Not with words only, but the patient tenderness that soothed by a touch, tears that were mute reminders of a greater grief than Joe's, and broken whispers more eloquent than prayers, because hopeful resignation went hand in hand with natural sorrow, sacred moments when heart talked to heart in the silence of the night, turning affliction to a blessing which chastened grief and strengthened love. Feeling this, Joe's burden seemed easier to bear. Duty grew sweeter, and life looked more durable, seen from the safe shelter of her mother's arms. When aching heart was a little comforted, troubled mind likewise found help. For one day she went to the study, and leaning over the good gray head, lifted to welcome her with the tranquil smile. She said, very humbly, Father, talk to me as you did to Beth. I needed more than she did, for I'm all wrong. My dear, nothing can comfort me like this, he answered, with a falter in his voice, and both arms round her, as if he too needed help, and did not fear to ask for it. Then, sitting in Beth's little chair close beside him, Joe told her troubles. The resentful sorrow for her loss, the fruitless efforts that discouraged her, the want of faith that made life look so dark, and all the sad bewilderment that we call despair. She gave him entire confidence. He gave her the help she needed, and both found consolation in the act. For a time had come when they could talk together not only as father and daughter, but as man and woman, able and glad to serve each other with mutual sympathy as well as mutual love. Happy thoughtful times, there in the old study which Joe called the church of one member, and from which she came with fresh courage, recovered cheerfulness, and a more submissive spirit. For the parents who had taught one child to meet death without fear, we're trying now to teach another to accept life without despondency or distrust, and to use its beautiful opportunities with gratitude and power. Other helps had Joe, humble, wholesome duties and delights that would not be the night their part in serving her, and which she slowly learned to see and value. Brooms and dishcloths never could be as distasteful as they once had been, for Beth had presided over both, and something of her house-wifely spirit seemed to linger around the little mob in the old brush, never thrown away. As she used them, Joe found herself humming the songs Beth used to hum, imitating Beth's orderly ways, and giving the little touches here and there that kept everything fresh and cozy, which was the first step in making home happy, though she didn't know it till Hannah said with an approving squeed of the hand, You thoughtful creature, you're determined we shan't miss that dear lamb if you can help it. We don't say much, but we see it, and the Lord will bless you for it. See if we don't. As they said, suing together, Joe discovered how much improved her sister Meg was. How well she could talk, how much she knew about good, womanly impulses, thoughts and feelings, how happy she was in husband and children, and how much they were all doing for each other. Marriage is an excellent thing, after all. I wonder if I should blossom out half as well as you have, if I tried it? Always provising, I could, said Joe, as she constructed a kite for Demi in the topsy-turvy nursery. It's just what you need to bring out the tender womanly half of your nature, Joe. You are like a chestnut-burr, quickly outside, but silky soft within, and a sweet kernel. If one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart one day, and then the rough burr will fall off. Frost opens chestnut-burrs, ma'am, and it takes a good shake to bring them down. Boys go nothing, and I don't care to be bagged by them, returned Joe, pasting away at the kite which no wind that blows would ever carry up, for Daisy had tied herself on as a bob. Meg laughed, for she was glad to see a glimmer of Joe's old spirit, but she felt at her duty to enforce her opinion by every argument in her power. And the sisterly chats were not wasted, especially as two of Meg's most effective arguments were the babies whom Joe loved tenderly. If is the best opener of some hearts, and Joe's was nearly ready for the bag, a little more sunshine to ripen the nut, then not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernel sound and sweet. If she suspected this, she would have shut up tight, and bit more prickly than ever. Fortunately she wasn't thinking about herself, so when the time came, down she drove. Now if she had been the heroine of a moral storybook, she ought at this period of her life to have become quite saintly, renounced the world and gone about doing good in a mortified bonnet, with tracts in her pocket. But you see, Joe wasn't a heroine, she was only a struggling human girl like hundreds of others, and she just acted out her nature, being sad, cross, listless, or energetic as the mood suggested. It's highly virtuous to say we'll be good, but we can't do it all at once, and it takes a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether before some of us even get our feet set in the right way. Joe had got so far. She was learning to do her duty, and to feel unhappy if she did not. But to do it cheerfully, nah, that was another thing. She had often said she wanted to do something splendid, no matter how hard, and now she had her wish, for what could be more beautiful than to devote her life to father and mother, trying to make home as happy to them as they had to her. And if difficulties were necessary to increase the splendor of the effort, what could be harder for a restless, ambitious girl than to give up her own hopes, plans, and desires, and cheerfully live for others? Providence had taken her at her word. Here was a task, not what she expected, but better because self had no part in it. Now how could she do it? She decided that she would try, and in her first attempt she found the helps I have suggested. Still another was given her, and she took it, not as a reward, but as a comfort. As Christian took the refreshment afforded by the little arbor, where he rested, as he climbed the hill called difficulty, why don't you write? That always used to make you happy, said her mother once, when the desponding fit overshadowed Joe. I have no heart to write, and if I had, nobody cares for my things. What we do, write something for us, and never mind the rest of the world. Try it, dear. I am sure it would do you good, and please it very much. Don't believe I can, but Joe got out her desk and began to overhaul her half-finished manuscripts. An hour afterward her mother peeped in, and there she was, scratching away with her black pineaforon, and an absorbed expression, which caused Mrs. March to smile and slip away. Well pleased with the success of her suggestion. Joe never knew how it happened, but something got into that story that went straight to the hearts of those who read it. For when her family had laughed and cried over it, her father sent it, much against her will, to one of the popular magazines. And to her utter surprise it was not only paid for, but others requested. Letters from several persons whose praise was on her followed the appearance of the little story. Others copied it, and strangers as well as friends admired it. For a small thing it was a great success, and Joe was more astonished than when her novel was commended and condemned all at once. I don't understand it. What can there be in a simple little story like that to make people praise it so, she said, quite bewildered. There is truth in it, Joe. That's the secret. Humour and pathos make it alive, and you have found your style at last. You wrote with no thoughts of fame or money, and put your heart into it, my daughter. As you have had the bitter, now comes the sweet. Do your best and grow as happy as we are in your success. If there's anything good or true in what I write, it isn't mine. I owe it all to you and mother and Beth, said Joe, more touched by her father's words than by any amount of praise from the world. Joe taught by love and sorrow Joe wrote her little stories and sent them away to make friends for themselves, and her, finding it a very charitable world to such humble wanderers, for they were kindly welcomed and sent home comfortable tokens to their mother, like dutiful children whom good fortune overtakes. When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement Mrs. March feared that Joe would find it difficult to rejoice over it, but her fears were soon set at rest, for though Joe looked grave at first, she took it very quietly, and was full of hopes and plans for the children, before she read the letter twice. It was a sort of written duet wherein each glorified the other in loverlike fashion, very pleasant to read and satisfactory to think of, for no one had any objection to make. You like it, mother, said Joe, as they laid down the closely written sheets and looked at one another. Yes, I hoped it would be so, ever since Amy wrote that she had refused Fred. I felt sure then that something better than what you call the mercenary spirit had come over her, and the hint here and there in her letters made me suspect that love and Laurie would win the day. How sharp you are, Marmy, and how silent! You never said a word to me. Others have need of sharp eyes and discreet tongues when they have girls to manage. I was half afraid to put the idea into your head lest you should write and congratulate them before the thing was settled. I am not the scatterbrain I was, you may trust me. I'm sober and sensible enough for anyone's confident now. So you are, my dear, and I should have made you mine. Only I fancy that it might pay you to learn that your teddy loved someone else. Now, mother, did you really think I could be so silly and selfish after I'd refused his love when it was freshest, if not best? I knew you were sincere then, Joe, but lately I thought that if he came back and asked again you might perhaps feel like giving another answer. Forgive me, dear, I can't help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart, so I fancy that your boy might fill the empty place if he tried now. No, mother, it is better as it is, and I'm glad Amy has learned to love him. But you are right in one thing. I am lonely, and perhaps if Teddy had tried again I might have said yes, not because I love him any more, but because I care more to be loved than when he went away. I'm glad of that, Joe, for it shows you are getting on. There are plenty to love you, so try and be satisfied with father and mother, sisters and brothers, friends and babies, till the best lover of all comes to give you your reward. Mothers are the best lovers in the world, but I don't mind whispering to Marmy that I'd like to try all kinds. It's very curious, but the more I try to satisfy myself with all sorts of natural affections, the more I seem to want. I'd no idea hearts could take in so many. Mine is so elastic it never seems full now, and I used to be quite contented with my family. I don't understand it. I do, and Mrs. March smiled her wise smile as Joe turned back the leaves to read what Amy said of Lori. It is so beautiful to be loved as Lori loves me. He isn't sentimental, doesn't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and I'm so proud to know it's mine. He says he feels as if he could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard his mate, and lots of love for Balas. I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my glammed captain with all my heart, and soul, and might, and never will desert him while God lets us be together. Oh, mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be when two people love and live for one another. And that's our cool reserve to worldly Amy. Truly love does work miracles, how very, very happy they must be. And Joe laid the rustling sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the workaday world again. By and by Joe roamed the way upstairs, for it was rainy and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed her, and the old feeling came again, not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one sister should have all she asked, the other nothing. It was not true, she knew that and tried to put it away, but the natural craving for affection was so strong, and Amy's happiness woke the hungry longing for someone to love with heart and soul, and cling to while God let them be together. Up in the garret where Joe's unquiet wanderings ended, stood four little wooden chests in a row, each marked with his owner's name, and each filled with relics of the childhood and girlhood ended now for all. Joe glanced into them, and when she came to her own, leaned her chin on the edge, and stared absently at the chaotic collection, till a bundle of old exercise books caught her eye. She drew them out, turned them over, and relived that pleasant winter at kind Mrs. Kirk's. She had smiled at first, then she looked thoughtful, next sad, and when she came to a little message written in the professor's hand, her lips began to tremble. The book slid out of her lap, and she said, looking at the friendly words, as it took a new meaning, and touched a tender spot in her heart. Wait for me, my friend. I may be a little late, but I shall surely come. Oh, if only he would! So kind, so good, so patient with me always, my dear old fritz. I didn't value him half enough when I had him. But now how I should love to see him, for everyone seems going away from me, and I'm all alone! And holding the little paper fast, as if it were a promise yet to be fulfilled, Joe later head down on a comfortable rag-bag, and cried, as if in opposition to the rain, battering on the roof. Was it all self-pity, loneliness, or low spirits? Or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say? End of Chapter 42. Chapter 43 of Little Women. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. CHAPTER 43 SURPRISES Joe was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire and thinking. It was her favourite 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 thinking 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 twenty-five, 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's what I'm to be, a literary spinster, with a pen for a spouse, a family for children, and twenty years hence a morsel of fame, perhaps, when like poor Johnson I'm 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, I dare say, old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it. But—and there, Joe sighed, as if the prospect was not inviting. It seldom is at first, and thirty seems the end of all things did five and twenty. But it's not as bad as it looks, and no one can get on quite happily if one has something in oneself to fall back upon. At twenty-five girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly resolve that they never will be. At thirty they say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact, and if sensible, console themselves by remembering, that they have twenty 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, health, ambition, love itself make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life if for no other reason. And looking at them with compassion, not 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 by and by kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now. Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiness to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind regardless of rank, age, or color. Just recollect the good ants who have not only lectured and fussed, but nursed and petted, too often without thanks, 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 pay 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 a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some ant, Priscilla, who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely old heart for the best nevy in the world. Joe must have fallen asleep, as I dare say my reader has during this little homily, for suddenly, Lori's ghost seemed to stand before her, a substantial lifelike ghost leaning over her with a very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and didn't like to show it. But like Jenny in the ballad, she could not think 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, oh my teddy, oh my teddy. Dear Joe, you are glad to see me then. Glad? My blessed boy, words can't express my gladness. Where's Amy? Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches. Your what? cried Joe, for Lori uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him. Oh, the Dickens now I've done it, and he looks so guilty that Joe was down on him like a flash. You've gone and got married! Yes, please, but I never will again. And he went down upon his knees with a penitent clasping of hands and a face full of mischief, mirth, and triumph. Actually married? Very much so, thank you. Mercy on us! What dreadful thing will you do next? And Joe fell into her seat with a gasp. A characteristic but not exactly complementary congratulation returned Lori, still in an abject attitude, but beaming with satisfaction. What can you expect when you take one's breath away, creeping in like a burglar and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you 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 patted the sofa invitingly, as she said in a cordial tone. The old pillow is up Garrett, and we don't need it now, so come and fest, Teddy. How good it sounds to hear you say, Teddy. No one ever calls me that but you. And Lori 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 comlier 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 shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Lori said with a vain attempt at dignity. Don't I look like a married man in the head of a family? Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever. Now really, Joe, you ought to treat me with more respect, began Lori, 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 laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion. It's no use you're going out in the cold to get, Amy, for they are all coming up presently. I couldn't wait. I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise, and have first skim, as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream. Of course you did, and spoiled your story by beginning 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 Lori, with a twinkle that made Joe exclaim. Fib, number one, Amy did it to please you. Go on and tell the truth if you can, sir. Now she's beginning to marm it, isn't it jolly to hear her, said Lori to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite agreed. It's all the same, you know, she and I being one. We planned to come home with 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 went to please me, and I couldn't let him go alone, neither could I leave Amy, and Mrs. Carol had got English notions about chaperones and such nonsense, and wouldn't let Amy come with us. So I just 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 Lori's voice made Joe say hastily. How did you ever get Aunt 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, had consented to it by and by. And it was only taking time by the fetlock, 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 the light the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloomy 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 that charming arrangement would make everything easy all round, so we did it. When, where, 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 Consuls in Paris, a very quiet wedding, of course, for even in our happiness we didn't forget dear little Beth. Joe put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the little red pillow, which he remembered well. Why didn't you let us know afterward, asked Joe, in a quieter tone, when they had sat quite still 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 Valrosa a regular honeymoon home, so we went there, and were as happy as people are but once in their lives. My faith wasn't at love among the roses. Laurie seemed to forget Joe for a minute, and Joe was glad of it, for the fact that he told her these 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 thought 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 never shall stop loving you, but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is 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 had waited, as you tried to make me, but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent, and it took a hard lesson to show me 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 was so tumbled up in my mind at one time that I didn't know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love you both like, 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 we first knew one another? I'll believe it with all my heart, but, Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again. The happy old times can't come back, and we mustn't expect it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do, for playtime is over, and we must give up frolicking. I'm 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 love 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 a boyish passion there 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 really married and going to set up housekeeping. Why, it seems only yesterday that I was buttoning Amy's pinafore 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 a grandma. I flatter myself, I'm a gentleman grod, as Pegady said of David, and when you see Amy, you'll find her rather a precocious infant, said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal error. You may be a little older in years, but I'm ever so much older and feeling, Teddy. Women always are, and this last year has been such a hard one that I feel forty. Poor Joe! We left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring. You are older. Here is a line and there is another, unless you smile your eyes look sad. And when I touched the cushion just now I found a tear on it. You've had a great deal to bear, and had to bear it all alone. What a 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 she 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 easier to bear. I am lonely sometimes, but I dare say it's good for me, and you never shall be again broken, 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 house, and go haves and everything, just as we used to do, and let us pet you, and I'll 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 at his coming. You were the same Joe still, dropping 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 angels. Yes, of course, but which rules? I don't mind telling you that she does, now, at least I let her think so, it pleases her, you know. By and by we shall take turns, for marriage, they say, haves one's rights and doubles one's duties. You'll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule 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 rule well. In fact, I rather like it. For she winds one round her finger as softly and prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favour all the while. That ever I should live to see you a hen-packed husband and enjoying it, cried Joe, with uplifted hands. It was good to see Laurie square her shoulders and smile with masculine scorn at that insinuation, as he replied with his high and mighty air. Amy is too well bred for that, and I am not the sort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect ourselves and one another too much ever to tyrannize or quarrel. Joe liked that and thought the new dignity very becoming, but the boys seemed changing very fast into the 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 sun and I the wind and the fable, and the sun managed the man best, you remember. She can blow him up as well as shine on him, laughed Laurie. Such a lecture as I got it, niece! I give you my word it was a deal worse in any of your scoldings a regular rouser. I'll tell you all about it some time, she never will, because after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicable party and married the good for nothing. What baseness! If she abuses you come to me and I'll defend you. I look as if I needed it, don't I? said Laurie, getting up and striking an attitude, which suddenly changed from the imposing to the rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard calling. Where is she? Where is my dear old Joe? In troop the whole family, and everyone was hugged and kissed all over again. And after several vain attempts the three wanderers were set down to be looked at and exalted over. Mr. Lawrence, Hale and Hardy as 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 courtliness 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 the daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart. And best of all, to watch Laurie 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 hadn't a Parisian heir, that young Mrs. Moffat would be entirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Lawrence, and that her ladyship was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as she watched the pair, how well they looked together. I was right, and Laurie has found the beautiful, accomplished girl who will become his home better than clumsy old Jo, and be a pride not a torment to him. Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each other with happy faces, for they saw that their youngest had done well, not only in worldly things, but the better wealth 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 prim carriage was changed to a gentle dignity, both womanly and winning. No little affectations marred it, and the cordial sweetness of her manner was more charming than the new beauty of or the old grace. For it stamped her at once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentle woman she had hoped to become. Love has done much for our little girl, said her mother softly. She had a good example before her all her life, my dear, Mr. March whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face and gray head beside him. Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her pity auntie, but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chattelain full of delightful charms. Demi 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 Bern. A flank movement produced an unconditional surrender, however, for Laurie knew where to have him. Young man, when I first had the honor of making your 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 tassle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul. Blessed is she ain't in silt from head to foot. Ain't it a relish in sight to see her settin' there as fine as a fiddle, and hear folks calling little Amy Miss Lawrence, muttered old Hannah, who could not resist frequent peaks through the slide, as she set the table in a most decidedly promiscuous manner. Mercy on us how they did talk, first one, then the other, then all burst out together trying to tell the history of three years and half an hour. It was fortunate that tea was at hand, to produce a lull and provide refreshment, for they would have been hoarse and faint if they had gone on much longer. Such a happy procession as filed away into the little dining room, Mr. March proudly escorted Mrs. Lawrence, Mrs. March as proudly leaned on the arm of my son. The old gentleman took Joe with a whispered, You must be my girl now, and a glance at the empty corner by the fire that made Joe whisper back. I'll try to fill her place, 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 sweet will, and you may be sure they made the most of the opportunity. Didn't they steal sips of tea, stuff gingerbread ad libitum, get a hot biscuit apiece, and as a crowning trespass, didn't they each whisk a captivating little tart into their tiny pockets, there to stick and crumble treacherously, teaching them that both human nature and a pastry are frail, burdened with the guilty consciences of the sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo's sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise of Cambric and Merino, which hid their booty, the little sinners attached themselves to Dranpa, who hadn't his spectacles on. Amy, who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the parlor on Father Lawrence's arm. The others paired off as before, and this arrangement left Joe companionless. She did not mind it at the minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry. Will Miss Amy ride in the coop, and use all them lovely silver dishes that stored away over yonder? Shouldn't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and wore diamonds and point lace every day. Teddy thinks nothing too grand for her return, Joe, with infinite satisfaction. No more there is. Will you have hash or fish balls for breakfast, asked Hannah? Who wisely mingled poetry and prose? I don't care, and Joe shut the door, feeling that food was an uncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at the party vanishing above, and as Demi's short plaid legs toiled up the last stare, 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 birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, a weep a little weep when I go to bed. It won't do to be dismal now. Then she drew her hand over her eyes, for one of her boyish 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 started as if another ghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall bearded gentleman beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun. Oh, Mr. Bear, I'm so glad to see you, cried Joe with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in, and I to see Miss Marsh, but no, you have a party, and the professor paused as 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. Bear 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 mon sure de trope, 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 a change in it. Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last. Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that. And he shook 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 Bear, she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a 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 the more friendly because he was poor. For poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bear sat looking about him with the air of a traveller who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choices' doors for his guest's benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Lawrence found it impossible to go to sleep. If Joe had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behaviour would have amused her. For a faint twinge, not of jealousy, but something like suspicion, caused that 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. Bear talked well in this genial atmosphere and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often, and a shadow would pass across his face as if regretting his own lost youth, 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 had seen it. But Joe had her own eyes to take care of. In feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden ant. A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips of fresh water after a dusty walk. For the side-long peep showed her several propitious omens. Mr. Bear's face had lost the absent-minded expression, and looked all alive with interest in the present moment, actually young and handsome, she thought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she usually did strange men to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired, though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the conversation had strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic. Joe quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched in an argument and thought to herself, as she watched her father's absorbed face, how he would enjoy having such a man as my professor to talk with every day. Lastly Mr. Bear was dressed in a new suit 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 in exciting moments he rumbled it up in the droll way he used to do, and Joe liked it rampantly erect, better than flat, because she thought it gave his fine forehead a jovelike aspect. Poor Joe, how she did glorify that plain man, as she sat knitting away so quietly, yet letting nothing escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bear actually had gold sleeve buttons in his immaculate wristbands. Dear old fellow, he couldn't got himself up with more care if he had been going a wooing, said Joe to herself. And then a sudden thought, born 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 had 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 laughing without the ball, to resume their seats, wishing they had not left them. Nobody knew where the evening went to, for Hannah skillfully abstracted the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr. Lawrence went home to rest. The others sat round the fire talking away utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg, whose maternal mind was impressed with the firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi, said his nightgown of fire, studying 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 jubilant emotions of her soul. They were not all there, but no one found the words thoughtless or untrue, for Beth still seemed among them a peaceful presence, invisible but dearer than ever, since death could not break the household league that love made dissoluble. The little chair stood in its old place, the tidy basket with a bit of work she left unfinished when the needle-groove so heavy was still on its accustomed shelf. The beloved instrument seldom touched now had not been moved, and above it Beth's 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, with a pardonable pride in his promising pupil. But Amy whispered with full eyes as she twirled the faded stool. Not tonight, dear, I can't show off tonight. But she did show something better than brilliancy or skill, for she sang Beth's songs with a tender music in her voice which the best master could not have taught, and touched the listener's hearts with a sweeter power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very still when the clear voice failed suddenly at the last line of Beth's favorite hymn. It was hard to say. Earth half no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. And Amy leaned against her husband who stood behind her, feeling that her welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth's kiss. Now we must finish with Mignon's song, for Mr. Bear sings that, said Joe, before the pause grew painful. And Mr. Bear cleared his throat with a gratified, as he stepped into the corner where Joe stood, saying, You will sing it with me, we go excellently well together. A pleasing fiction, by the way, for Joe had no more idea of music than a grass-hopper. But she would have consented if he had proposed to sing a whole opera and warbled away, blissfully regardless of time and tune. It didn't much matter, for Mr. Bear 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. Notes, thou of the land where the citron blooms used to be the professor's favourite line, for Das Land meant Germany to him. But now he seemed to dwell with peculiar warmth and melody upon the words, There or there might I with thee O my beloved go. And one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that she longed to say she did know the land, and would joyfully depart thither whenever he liked. The song was considered a great success, and the singer retired covered with laurels. But a few minutes afterward 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 he came. He forgot himself still further when Laurie 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 Laurie thought him the most delightfully demonstrative old fellow he ever met. I too shall go, but I shall gladly come again, if you will give me leave, dear madame, 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 as cordial an assent as did the daughter's eyes, for Mrs. March was not so blind to her children's interests as Mrs. Moffat supposed. I suspect that as a wise man remarked Mr. March with placid satisfaction from the hearth rug 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 said, as she slipped away to her bed. She wondered what the business was that brought Mr. Bear 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 when safe in his own room, he 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. OF LITTLE WOMEN 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 Leanne Howlett. LITTLE WOMEN by Louisa May Alcott. CHAPTER 44 MY LORD AND LADY Please, Madam Mother, could you lend me my wife for half an hour? The luggage has come, and I've been making hay of Amy's Paris finery, trying to find some things I want, said Laurie, coming in the next day to find Mrs. Lawrence sitting in her mother's lap, as if being made the baby again. Certainly. Go, dear. I forgot that you have any home but this. And 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— Whether 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 round to the south, and I haven't had an easterly spell since I was married. Don't know anything about the north, but I'm altogether salubrious and balmy. 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 are 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, asked 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, asked Mrs. March, 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 Racamié? asked Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy. Time will show. Come away impertence, and don't shock my family by calling me names before their face is answered, Amy, resolving that there should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a salon as a queen of society. How happy those children seemed together, observed Mr. March, finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle after the young couple had gone. Yes, and I think it will last, added Mrs. March, with the restful expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port. I know it will. Happy Amy, and Joe sighed, then smiled brightly as Professor Bear opened the gate with an impatient push. Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the bootjack, 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 at 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 say that. I forgot you were rich when I said yes. I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor, that I might show how much I love you. And Amy, who was very dignified in public and very fond in private, gave convincing proofs of the truth of her words. You don't really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be once, do you? It would break my heart if you didn't believe that I'd gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake. Am I an idiot and a brute? How could I think so? When you refused a richer man for me and won't let me give you half I want to now, when I have the right. 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 trembled for you at one time, I was not disappointed, for the daughter was true to the mother's teaching. I told Mama so yesterday, and she looked as glad and grateful as if I'd given her a check for a million to be spent in charity. You are not listening to my moral remarks, Mrs. Lawrence, and Lori paused, for Amy's eyes had an absent look, though fixed upon his face. Yes, I am, and admiring the mole in your chin at the same time. I don't wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I'm prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don't laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me, and Amy softly caress the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction. Lori had received many compliments in his life, but never one that suited him better, as he plainly showed, though he did laugh at his wife's peculiar taste, while she said slowly, May I ask you a question, dear? Of course you may. Shall you care if Joe does marry Mr. Bear? Oh, that's the trouble, is it? I thought there was something in the dimple that didn't quite suit you. Not being a dog in the manger but the happiest fellow alive, I assure you I can dance at Joe's wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling? Amy looked up at him and was satisfied. Her little jealous fear vanished forever, and she thanked him with a face full of love and confidence. I wish we could do something for that capital old professor. Couldn't we invent a rich relation who shall obligingly die out there in Germany and leave him a tidy little fortune? Said Lori, 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 professorans to support. We won't interfere now but watch our chance and do them a good turn in spite of themselves. I owe Joe for a part of my education, and she believes in people's paying their honest debts, so I'll get 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. Ah, we'll do quantities of good, won't we? There's one sort of poverty that I particularly like to help. Out-and-out beggars get taken care of, but poor 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 only knows how to do it so delicately that it does not offend. I must say, I like to serve a decayed gentleman better than a blarneying 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 ambition, that I was ashamed of myself, and longed to give them a right good lift. Those are people whom it's a satisfaction to help, for if they've got genius, it's an honor to be allowed to serve them, and not let it be lost or delayed for want to fuel to keep the pot boiling. If they haven't, it's a pleasure to comfort the poor souls and keep them from despair when they find it out. Yes, indeed, and there's another class who can't ask and who suffer in silence. I know something of it, for I belong to it before you made a princess of me, as the king does the beggar made in the old story. Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth, health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me, and whenever I see girls struggling along as we used to do, I want to put out my hand and help them as I was helped. And so you shall, like an angel as you are, cried Laurie, resolving, with a glow of philanthropic zeal, to found an endowed 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 dorkess, 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 St. Martin, stopping as you ride gallantly through the world to share your cloak with the beggar, it's a bargain and we shall get the best of it. So the young pair shook hands upon it and then paced happily on again, feeling that their pleasant home was more home-like because they hoped to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them if they smoothed rough ways for other feet and feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blessed than they. Chapter 45 of Little Women 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 Mary Anderson Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 45 Daisy and Demi I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian of the March family without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it. Daisy and Demi had now arrived at years of discretion. For in this fast age babies of three or four assert their rights and get them 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 prattling 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 a propriety which charmed all beholders. At three Daisy demanded a needler and actually made a bag with four stitches in it. She likewise set up housekeeping in the sideboard and managed a microscopic cooking stove with 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 uniting gymnastics for head and heels. The boy early developed a mechanical genius which delighted his father and distracted his mother, for he tried to imitate every machine he saw, and kept the nursery in a chaotic condition with his sew-in sheen, a mysterious structure of string, chairs, clothespins, and spools, for wheels to go wound and wound. Also a basket hung over the back of a chair in which he vainly tried to hoist his 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 lelly-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 dove-coat would be blessed by the presence of an inmate as serene and loving as that which had helped to make the old house home, and to pray that she might be spared a loss like 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 women folk. What makes my legs go drampa, asked the young philosopher, surveying those active portions of his frame with unmeditative air, while resting after a go to bed frolic one night. It's your 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 in 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 will go till he stops you. Does I? And Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in this 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 destodd does it when I's a seep. 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 is old enough to ask the question, he is old enough to receive true answers. I am 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 Asabaides, 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 gentleman 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 a 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, said 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 and eat up all the raisins. Aunt Dodo was a chief playmate and confidant of both 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 the smay 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 hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mine of chocolate drops in his waistcoat pocket, and a watch that could be taken out of 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 pence of affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulders 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 filial 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 that met his eye, prone upon the floor lay Mr. March with his respectable legs in the air, and beside him likewise prone was Demi trying to imitate the attitude with his own short scarlet 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 went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the perceptor said, with undisturbed dignity. But 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, Grandpa, 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 motive expressing his satisfaction that school was over. What have you been at today, boob-chin? asked Mr. Bear, picking up the gymnast. Me went to see Little Mary. And what did you there? I kissed her, began Demi, with artless frankness. Prute! Thou beginnest early. What did the little memory 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 the professor? It isn't 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 confectionary not ideas. Thou shouldst save some for the little friend. Sweets to the sweet manlings, said Mr. Bear. And Mr. Bear offered Joe some, with a 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, 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 clothes brush, glancing 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 of which Demi puzzled his small wit, and was forced to leave unsolved forever. Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets as they set their house in order and lined a blissful future. Mr. Bear and Joe were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy roads and certain 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 Meg's, 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 Meg's, 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 wilderness with perfect skill, and took care that there should be coffee for supper. As for Richard, I mean Mr. Bear and 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 stoned blind to the changes in Joe's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her air three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise, and no one seemed to have the lightest 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, let her somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering, after her many enviarment declarations of independence. Laurie 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 looted 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 old days, and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and Joe to become pensive at first, and then alas, for romance, very gross. Disgusted, I dare say, and kind of him as suddenly as he came. It's nothing to me, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us goodbye like a gentleman, she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things with a customary walk one dull afternoon. You'd better take a little umbrella, dear, it looks like rain's at her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact. Yes, mommy, do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get some paper, return, Joe, pulling out the bow under her chin before the glass, as an excuse for not looking at her mother. Yes, I want some dwelled salicia, a paper of number nine needles into 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 barrels, 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 save her heart, she might, her bonnet. 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 a drenching. 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 half men's warts and company 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 for landering down here, hoping to see the professor. Joe, I am 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 your way 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 dawned, Joe righted herself, spread her anchorchief over the devoted ribbons and put temptation behind her, hurried on with increasing dampness about the ankles and much clashing of umbrellas over her head. 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 do down here, my friend? I'm shopping. Mr. Bear smiled as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the whole sale-eyed 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 battling through the wet that day. We thought you had gone, said Joe Astilly, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to eye her face, and she feared he might think the joy of betrayed unmaidingly. Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who have been so heavenly kind to me? It also reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion and answered utterly, 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 monosillable 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 I have a way open to me by which I can make my bread and give my junglings much help. Tell me, please, I like to know all about 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 world smooth for France and Amel. 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 glinging 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 his guts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself. Mr. Barr 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 he 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. Unlearning his good fortune, she almost clapped her hands. It was the joy all for the boys. Then unearing his destination, she said, so far away, in a tone of despair that lifted him on to 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 saletia 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 bossel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole. Should we know, 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 a paternal air they eat them when they can get them. Do you care for nuts, like a squirrel? Hamburg 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. We're out. 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 demigod, then distorting his pockets with knobby bundles and giving her the flowers to old. He put up the old umbrella and they traveled on again. Miss Marsh, I have 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 her shorter time remains to me. Yes, sir, and Joe nearly crushed the small flower pot with the sudden squeegee she gave it. I wish to get a little dress for my Dina, 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 Dina's mother. She is so poor and sick and her husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take for little mother. I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bar. 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 be old. Mr. Bar left it all to her. So she chose a pretty gown for Dina and then ordered out the shawls, the clock, 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, the 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. Bar, as 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 under. Now shall we go on, 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. Bar 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 held 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 four little flowers. I beg your pardon. I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind. I can walk. I'm used to blotting in the mud, return, Joe, winking hard, because she would have died rather than openly wipe her eyes. Mr. Bar 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 verb proper to the occasion, instead of which that undignified creature answered with an irrepressible sob, because you are going away. Ach, my gut, that is so good, cried Mr. Bar, 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 I 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. Bar could not go down upon his knees on account of the mud. Now that could he offer Joe his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations on 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 at the ankle, and her bonnet aroon. Fortunately, Mr. Bar considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more Joe-like than ever, though his hat brim was quite limp, with little rills trickling vents upon his shoulders, where he held the umbrella all over Joe, and every finger of his gloves needed mending. Passes by probably thought them a pair of armless lunatics, while they entirely forgot to ail 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 plane, 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 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 her coerent or reportable character. Frederick, why didn't you? I haven't, 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 bless 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 middit. Your English, you, is so called, say thou, art's dearest, it means so much to me, pleaded Mr. Bar, 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, all 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. Would 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. For that I do not believe, it was a sleep till the fairy prince came through the ward and waked it up. Ah, well, the earth's lever is dear best, but that I should not expect. Yes, the first love is the best, but be so contented, for I never had another. Daddy 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 giveest me all. I have waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, professor. 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. Barr, took a little worn paper out of his Westcote pocket. Joe unfolded it and looked much abouced, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for sending it an occasional attempt. How could that bring you, she asked, wondering what it 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. For 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. For 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 there lie a theored histories of the happy band, once playing here and pausing oft, to hear the sweet refrain, that came and went on the roof full oft, in the falling summer rain. Meg on the first lid, smooth and fair. I look in with loving eyes, profolded 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 girl. No toys in this first chest remain, for all are garried away, in their old age to join again, in another small Meg's play. I'll happy mother, well I know you here, 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, are the headless dolls of schoolbook-storn, 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-rid poems, stories wild, April letters, warm and cold. Diaries of a willful child, hints of a woman early old. A woman in a lonely ome, hearing like a sad refrain. Beware, they 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 cattle hounds that often game. Death canonized for us one saint, ever less human than divine, and still we lay with tender-blaint 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 a prison house of pain, for ever are they sweetly blend with the falling summer rain. Upon the last lid's polished field, legend now, both fair and true, a gallant knight bears on his shield, Amy, in letters gold and blue. Within lies nudes that bound to her hair, slippers that has dunced their last. Faded flowers laid by with care, vans whose airy toils are past, gay valentines all ardent flames, tribals that have borne their part, in girlish hopes and fears and shames, the record of a maiden art. Now learning fairer, truer spells, hearing like a blithe refrain, the silver sound of brighter bells in the falling summer rain. Four little chests, all in row, dim with dust and worn by dine, four women, taught by wheel and woe, to love and labor in their prime, four sisters parted for an hour, none lost, only one gone before, made by love's immortal bower, 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 is brave music long, shell 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 tale, 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. Barr 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 out that it was not too poor, for 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 open, and I said, I will have a, if I die for it, and so I will, cried Mr. Barr with a defiant nod, as if the walls had missed closing round, though more barriers, which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down. Joe thought that was blended and resolved to be worthy of a night, though he did not come frowning on a Georgia and gorgeous oray. What made you stay away so long, she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and get delightful answers, that you 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, in 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 am glad you are poor. I could not bear rich husband, said Joe, decidedly, adding in a softer tone. Don't fear poverty. I have 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 could not help loving you if you were seventy. The professor found that so touching, that he would have been glad of his anger, Jeff, if he could have got out it. As he couldn't, Joe wiped his eyes for him and said laughing, as he 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, Frederick, 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 a minute. 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 and hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills. Ah, thou giveth me such open courage, and I have nothing to give back. But a full art, 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 her hands into his. Whispering tenderly, not empty now, and stooping down, kissed her fredridge under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if a 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 in 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 46, recording by Gem of Life.