 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. Jo is alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's 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. Jo 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'll be, a literary spinster with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children. In twenty years, hence, a morsel of fame, perhaps, when, like old Johnson, I'm old and can't enjoy it, solitary and can't share it, independent and don't need it. While I needn't be a sour saint or a selfish sinner, and I dare say old maids are very comfortable when they get used to it, but, in their joe side, as if the prospect was not inviting. It seldom is at first, and thirty seems the end of all things to five and twenty. But it's not as bad as it looks, and one can get on quite happily if one has something in oneself to fall back upon. At 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, the every tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that bear 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 of 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 only the 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 old aunts, 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 Aunt 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 done during this little homily. For suddenly, Laurie's ghost seemed to stand before her, a substantial, lifelike ghost, leaning over her with the 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 and 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 express my gladness. Where is 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 Laurie 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? Yes, 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 to Laurie, still in an object 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 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 Laurie sat down with an air of great content. What does Amy call you? My Lord, that's like her. Well, you look it, and Joe's eye plainly betrayed that she found her boy 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 little shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Laurie said with a vain attempt at dignity. Don't I look like a married man ahead of a family? Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you're the same scapegrace as ever. Not really, Joe. You ought to treat me with more respect, began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely. How can I, when the mere idea of you married and settled is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober? Answered Joe, smiling all over her face, so ineffectuously that they had another laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quiet 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 at the wrong end. Now start right, and tell me how it all happened. I'm pining to know. Well, I did it to please Amy, began Laurie, with the twinkle that made Joe exclaim, fib number one, Amy did it to please you. Go on, tell the truth, if you can, sir. Now she's beginning to marm it, isn't it jolly to hear, said Laurie 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 here 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 wanted 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 Laurie'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 delight 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. One 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 Consoles 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 she said that, and Lori gently smoothed the little red pillow, which she remembered well. Why didn't you let us know afterward, as 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, finally couldn't be ready under a month at least, and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we like. Anyway, Amy had once called Valroza 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, Lori 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, Lori 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 change 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 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, it was so tumbled up in my mind at one time that I didn't know which I loved best, you were Amy, and tried to love you both alike. But I couldn't, and when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places, and I felt sure that it was well off with the old love before it was on with the new, that I could honestly share my heart between sister Joe and wife Amy, and love them dearly. Will you believe it, and go to the happy old times when we first knew each other? 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 prolicking. 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 the out of the grave of a boyish passion, their head 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, how time does fly. As one of the children is older than yourself, you needn't talk like a grandma. I flattered myself on my gentleman grod, as Pegatee said of David. And when you see Amy, you'll find her rather a precocious infant, said Laurie, looking amused at her maternal heir. 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 40. Poor Joe, we left you to bear it alone, but we went pleasuring. You are older. Here's a line, and there's another. Unless you smile, your eyes look sad. And when I touched the cushion just now, I found a tear on it. You'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. You know, 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 around her, as if to fence out every human ill. Amy and I can't go 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 all be blissfully happy and friendly together. If I shouldn't be in the way, it would be very pleasant. I begin to feel quite young already. 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 light 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 are 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. Bye and bye, we shall take turns. For marriage, they say, haves one's rights and doubles one's duties. You go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all the days of your life. Well, she does it so imperceptively, that I don't think I shall mind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well. In fact, I'd rather like it. For she winds one round her finger as softly and crudely as a skin of milk, and makes you feel as if she was doing you a favor all the while. That ever I should live to see you a hen pecked husband and enjoying it, cried Joe, with uplifted hands. It was good to see Laurie square his 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 there he'd be coming. But the boy 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, in 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 at Nice. I gave you my word. It was a deal worse than any of your scoldings, a regular rouser. I'll tell you all about it sometime. She never will, because after telling me that she despised and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicable party and married the good for nothing. What baseness! Well, 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 trooped 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, hail and hearty 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 be met 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 around 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 air, that young Mrs. Moffitt would be entirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Lawrence, and that her ladyship was altogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Joe 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 Joe 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 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 or the old grace. For it stamped her at once with the unmistakable sign of the true gentlewoman she had hoped to become. Love has done much for our little girl, said her mother softly. She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear. Mr. March whispered back with a loving look at the worn face and grey head beside him. Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her pedianti, but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chateau lane full of beautiful 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 Baron. 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 tussle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophical dignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul. Blessed if she ain't in silk from head to foot, ain't in a relish in sight to see her set in there as fine as a fiddle, and hear her 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 she 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 the 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, 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, stuffed gingerbread and libitum, get a hot biscuit apiece, and as a crowd in trespass, they didn't 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 consciousness of the sequestered tarts, and fearing that Dodo's his sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise of Cambric and Merino, which hid their booty, the little sinners attached themselves to Drampa, 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, but this arrangement left Joe companionless. She did not mind it at the minute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry. Well, Miss Amy ride in her coop and use all them lovely little silver dishes that stored away over yonder. She didn't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off gold plate, and wore diamonds and pointless every day. Teddy thinks nothing's too good for her, returned Joe with infinite satisfaction. No more there is. Will you have hash or fishbells 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 stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon. For even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed. It won't do to be 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 it as if another ghost had come to surprise her. For there stood a tall bearded gentleman beaming at 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 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 were 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 misured the 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 out her face, and 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, and 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 and the grasp of the big warm hand. Father, mother, this is my friend, the 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 sat 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 people warmed 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 said looking about him with the air of a traveler 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 at each knee, and 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 joyous doors for his guest's benefit. While Silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, was said now a word, and Mr. Lawrence found it impossible to go to sleep. Though had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behavior 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 his 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, and 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 peeps 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 crunched in an argument and thought to herself as she watched her father's absorbed face. How he would enjoy having such a man is my professor to talk with every day. Lastly, Mr. Bear was stressed 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 an exciting moment, he rumpled it up in the drawl 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 played 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 wristband. Dear old fellow, he couldn't have got himself up with more care if he'd been going a wooing, so 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 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 a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi, so his night guy on a 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 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 to soluble. The little chair stood in its old place, the tidy basket with the bit of work she left unfinished, when the needle group so heavy was still in 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, play something, Amy, let them hear how much you have improved, said Laurie, with 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 brilliance to your skill, for she sang Beth's songs with the tender music in her voice, which the best master could not have taught, and touched the listener's hearts with the sweeter power than any other inspiration could have given her. The room was very still, when the clear voice failed suddenly at the very last line of Beth's favorite hymn. It was hard to say, Earth hath no sorrow, the 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 the gratified hymn, as he stepped into the corner where Joe stood, saying, You will sing with me, we go excellently well together. A pleasing fiction, by the way, for Joe had no more idea of music than a grasshopper, but she would have consented if he 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. Knowest thou the land where the citrine blooms used to be the professor's favorite line, for Das Lan 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, when a 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 madam, for a little business in the city will keep me here some days. He spoke to Mrs. March, but he looked at Joe, and the mother's voice gave as cordial and ascent as did the daughter's eyes. For Mrs. March was not so blind to her children's interest as Mrs. Moffitt supposed. I suspect that as a wise man remarked Mr. March with placid satisfaction from the hearth rug after the last guests 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 honour somewhere, but had been too mild 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 and might have thrown some light upon the subject, especially when he turned off the gas and kissed the picture in the dark. End of Chapter 43 of Little Women. Chapter 44 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 Dionne Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Chapter 44 My Lord and Lady Please, Madame 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 weather-cock can without the wind, suggested Joe, as he paused for a simile. Joe had grown quite her own saucy self again since Teddy came home. Exactly, for Amy keeps me pointing due west most of the time with only an occasional whiffle 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. This 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, butting Amy's cloak as she used to button her pinafores? We have our plans. We don't mean to say much about them yet, because we are such very new brooms, but we don't intend to be idle. I'm going into business with a devotion that shall delight grandfather and prove to him that I'm not spoiled. I need something of the sort to keep me steady. I'm tired of dawdling and mean to work like a man. And, Amy, what is she going to do, asked Mrs. March, well pleased at Laurie's decision, and the energy with which she spoke. After doing this civil all around, and airing our best bonnet, we shall astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion, the brilliant society we shall draw about us, and we shall exert over the world at large. That's about it, isn't it, Madame Racquemier, asked Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy. Time will show, come away impertinence, and don't shock my family by calling me names before their faces, answered Amy, resolving that there should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a salon as a queen of society. How happy those children seem to be, Mrs. 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 Josid, then smiled brightly as Professor Barr opened the gate with an impatient push. When said 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 should never marry for money. Amy caught herself up short as the words escaped her and looked at her husband, who replied with malicious gravity, certainly not, though you do hear charming girls say that they intend to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it your duty to make a rich match, that accounts perhaps for your marrying a good for me. Oh, my dearest boy, don't, don't say that. I forgot you were rich when I said yes. I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor, that I might show how much I love you. And Amy, who was very dignified in public and very fond in private, gave convincing proofs of the truths 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 you 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 Larry paused, for Amy's eyes had an absent look, though fixed upon his face. Yes, I am, and admiring the mole in your chin at the same time. I don't wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I'm prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don't laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me, and Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction. Larry had received many compliments in his life, but never one that suited him better, as he plainly showed, though he did laugh slowly. May I ask you a question, dear? Of course you may. Shall you care if Joe does marry Mr. Barr? 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 to 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 Larry when they began to pace up and down the long drying 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 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 blammering beggar. I suppose it's wrong but I do though it is harder. Perhaps it takes a gentleman to do it added the other member of the domestic admiration society. Thank you, I'm afraid I don't deserve that pretty compliment but I was going to say that while I was dawdling 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 my right good lift. Those are people whom it's a satisfaction to help for if they've got genius it's an honor to be allowed to serve them and not let it be lost or delayed for want of fuel to keep the pot boiling. If they haven't it's a pleasure to comfort the poor souls and keep them from despair when they find it out. Yes indeed and there's another class who can't ask and who suffer in silence I know something about it before you made a princess of me as the king does the beggar maid in the old story ambitious girls have a hard time Laurie and often have to see youth health and precious opportunities go by just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me and whenever I see girls struggling along as we used to do I want to put out my hand and help them as I was helped and so as you are cried Laurie resolving with a glow philanthropic zeal to found and endow an institution for the express benefit of young women with artistic tendencies rich people have no right to sit down and enjoy themselves or let their money accumulate for others to waste it's not have so sensible to leave legacies when one dies as it is to use the money wisely while alive and enjoy making these 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 Dorcas going about emptying a big basket of comforts and filling it up with good deeds with all my heart if you will be a brave Saint Martin stopping as you ride gallantly through the world to share your cloak with the beggar it's a bargain 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 up brightly 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 than they End of Chapter 44 Chapter 45 of Little Women This is a LibraBox recording. All LibraBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibraBox.org Recording McAthly Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 45 Daisy and Dimmy I cannot feel that I have done my duty as a historian of the March family without devoting at least one chapter to the two most precious and important members of it. Daisy and Dimmy 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 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 hand his eyes while Dimmy 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 so-and-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 mainly tried to hoist its two confiding sister who, with feminine devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till rescued. With the young inventor indignantly remarked why Marmar dance my lally-waiter and he'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 Dimmy tyrannized over Daisy and gallantly defended her from every other aggressor while Daisy made a galley slay of herself and adored her brother as the one perfect being in the world. A rosy, chubby, sun-shiny little soul was Daisy who found her way to everybody's heart and nestled there, one of the captivating children who seemed made to be kissed and cuddled, adorned and adored like little goddesses and produced for general approval on all festive occasions. Her small virtues were so sweet that she would have been quite angelic if a few small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully human. It was all fair whether in her world and every morning she scrambled up to the window in her little night down to the bout and saying, 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 Valentin and baby lovers became faithful worshipers. May loves everybody, she once had, 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 dev 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 where her grandfather often called her bath 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 term 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, Drenpa, as the young philosopher, surveying those active portions of this frame with a meditative air while resting after a go to bed frolic one night. It's your little mind, Demi, replied this age stroking yellow head, respectfully. What is the 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 anymore then you could open the watch. God winds you up and you go till he stops you. Does I? And Demi's brown eyes grew big and bright as he took in the new thought. Is I rounded up like the watch? Yes, but I can't show you how for it is done when we don't see. Demi felt his back as if expecting to find it like that of the watch. And then gravely remarked, I guess God does it when eyes asleep. A careful explanation followed to which he listened so attentively that his anxious grandmother said, my dear, do you think it wise to talk about such things to that baby? Getting great bumps over his eyes and learning to ask the most unanswerable questions. If he is old enough to ask the questions, 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 have replied like those heavy eyes, 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, who often, after discussion which caused Hannah to prophesy with ominous nods, that child ain't long for this world. He would turn about and set her fears at rest for 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. I'll make you sick, says mama to the young person who offers his services in the kitchen, with unfailing regularity, unplumbed pudding pay. May likes to be sick. I don't want to have you, so run away and help Daisy with patty cakes. He reluctantly departs, but his wrongs weigh upon his spirit and buy and buy when an opportunity comes to redest 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 cook upstairs when the pudding is safely bouncing in the pot. Truly Marmar asked Demi with a brilliant idea in his well-powered 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. Ondodo was chief playmate and confidant of both children, and the trio turned into 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 Ondodo was a living reality, and they made the most of her. For which compliment she was deeply grateful. But when Mr. Bear came, Joe neglected her playfellows and dismay and desolation fell upon their little souls. Daisy, who was fond of going about peddling kisses, lost her best customer and became bankrupt. Demi, with infantile penetration, soon discovered that Dodo liked to play with the bear man better than she did him. But though hurt, he concealed his anguish, for he hadn't the heart to insult a rival who kept a mind of chocolate drops in his waistcoat pocket and a watch that could be taken out of its case and freely shaken by ardent admirers. Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes, but Demi didn't see it in that light and continued to patronize the bear man with pensive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call and considered his shoulder her throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts, treasures surpassing worth. Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies, when they honor with their regard. But this counterfeit phylo-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 are at home with children and looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one. His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day, but evening seldom failed to bring him out to sea. Well, he was 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 me, 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 aneurysm and Joe cried out with a scandalized face. Father here's the professor. Down with the black legs and up came the grey head, as the preceptor said, with undisturbed dignity. Good evening Mr. Bear. Excuse me for a moment. We are just finishing our lesson. Now, Demi, make the letter and tell its name. I knows him, and after a few convulsive efforts the red legs took the shame of a pair of compasses, and the intelligent pupil triumphantly shouted, it's a we, Drempa. It's a we. He's a born weller, laughed Joe as her parent, gathered himself up, and her nephew tried to stand on his head as the only mode of expressing his satisfaction that school was over. What have you been at today, Buptian? Asked Mr. Bear picking up the Joe nest. We went to see little Mary. And what did you there? I kissed her, began Demi, with artless frankness. Fruit, thou beginnest early. What did the little Mary say to that, as 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, tisnt in mine head. It's in mine mouth, answered literal Demi, putting out his tongue with a chocolate drop on it, thinking she alluded to confectionary, not ideas. Thou shoulds save some for the little friend, sweets to the sweet, manly. 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 too, Fesser? Like young Washington, Mr. Bear couldn't tell a lie, so he gave the somewhat vague reply that he believed they did sometimes. In a tone that made Mr. March put down his clothes brush, glance at Joe's retiring face, and then sink into his chair, looking as if the precocious chick had put an idea into his head that was both sweet and sour. Why Dodo? When she caught him in the china closet half an hour afterward, nearly squeezed the breath out of his little body with a tender embrace instead of shaking him her being there. And why she followed up this novel performance by the unexpected gift of a big slice of bread and jelly, remained one of the problems over which Demi puzzled his small wits, and was forced to leave unsolved forever. Chapter forty-five Chapter forty-six 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 Christine Lehmann, Recita, California. Under the umbrella While Lori and Amy were taking conjugal strolls over velvet carpets as they set their house in order and planned a blissful future, Mr. Bear and Joe were enjoying promenades of a different sort, along muddy roads and sodden fields. I always do take a walk toward evening, and I don't know why I should give it up just because I happen to meet the Professor on his way out, said Joe to herself after two or three encounters. For though there were two paths to Megs, whichever one she took she was sure to meet him, either going or returning. He was always walking rapidly and never seemed to see her until quite close, when he would look as if his short-sighted eyes had failed to recognize the approaching lady till that moment. Then, if she was going to Megs, he always had something for the babies. If her face had turned homeward, he had merely strolled down to see the river and was just returning, unless they were tired of his frequent calls. Under the circumstances what could Joe do but greet him civilly and invite him in? If she was tired of his visits she concealed her weariness with perfect skill and took care that there should be coffee for supper, as Friedrich, I mean Mr. Bear, doesn't like tea. By the second week everyone knew perfectly well what was going on, yet everyone tried to look as if they were stone-blind to the changes in Joe's face. They never asked why she sang about her work, did up her hair three times a day, and got so blooming with her evening exercise. And no one seemed to have the slightest suspicion that Professor Bear, while talking philosophy with the father, was giving the daughter lessons of 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 a somewhat agitated life. She was mortally afraid of being laughed at for surrendering after her many and vehement declarations of independence. Laurie was her a special dread, but thanks to the new manager he behaved with praiseworthy propriety, never called Mr. Bear a capital old fellow in public, never eluded in the remotest manner to Joe's improved appearance, or expressed the least surprise at seeing the Professor's hat on the march's table nearly every evening. But he exalted in private and longed for the time to come when he could give Joe a piece of plate with a bear and a ragged staff on it as an appropriate coat of arms. For a fortnight the Professor came and went with lover-like regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days, and made no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober and Joe to become pensive at first, and then, alas for romance, very cross. Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came. It's nothing to me, of course, but I should think he would have come and bid us good-bye like a gentleman, she said to herself, with a despairing look at the gate as she put on her things for the customary walk one dull afternoon. You'd better take the little umbrella, dear. It looks like rain, said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet, but not alluding to the fact. Yes, Marmy, do you want anything in town? I've got to run in and get some paper, returned Joe, and out the bow under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at her mother. Yes, I want some twilled salicia, a paper of number nine needles and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got your thick boots on and something warm under your cloak? I believe so, answered Joe absently. If you happen to meet Mr. Bear, bring him home to tea. I quite long to see the dear man, Mrs. March. Joe heard that, but made no answer except to kiss her mother and walk rapidly away, thinking with the 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-good stores were not down among the counting-houses, banks, and wholesale wear-rooms where gentlemen most do congregate, and Joe found herself in that part of the city before she did a single errand, loitering along as if waiting for someone, examining engineering instruments in one window and samples of wool in another, with most unfeminine interest, tumbling over barrels, being half smothered by descending bales, and hustled unceremoniously by busy men who looked as if they wondered how the deuce she got there. A drop of rain on her cheek called 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 Hoffman Swartz and Co. over the door, and said to herself, with a sternly reproachful air, and serves me right what business had I to put on all my best things and come philandering down here, hoping to see the Professor. Joe, ashamed of you. No, you shall not go there to borrow an umbrella or find out where he is from his friends. You shall trudge away and do your errands in the rain, and if you catch your death and ruin your bonnet, it's no more than you deserve. Now then. With that she rushed across the street so impetuously that she narrowly escaped annihilation from a passing truck, and precipitated herself into the arms of a gentleman who said, I beg pardon, ma'am, and looked mortally offended. Somewhat daunted, Joe righted herself, spread her handkerchief over the devoted ribbons, and, putting temptation behind her, hurried on, with increasing dampness about the ankles and much clashing of umbrellas overhead. The fact that a somewhat dilapidated blue one remained stationary above the unprotected bonnet tension, and looking up she saw Mr. Bear looking down. I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse noses, and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my friend? I'm shopping. Mr. Bear smiled as he glanced from the pickle factory on one side to the wholesale hide-and-leather concern on the other, but he 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 a happy woman was paddling through the wet that day. We thought you had gone, said Joe hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidantly. Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who have been so heavenly kind to me? He asked so reproachfully that suggestion, and answered heartily, No, I didn't. I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you, father and mother especially. And you? I'm always glad to see you, sir. In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Joe made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the professor, for his smile vanished as quickly. 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 younglings much peace. I'd 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 way smooth for France and Emile. For this I should be grateful, should I not? Indeed you should. How splendid it will be to have you doing what you like and the boys," cried Joe, clinging to the lads as an excuse for the satisfaction she could not help betraying. Ah! But we shall not meet often, I fear. This place is at the west. So far away! And Joe left her skirts to their fate, as if it didn't matter now what became of her clothes or herself. Mr. Bear could read several languages, but he had not spoken yet. He flattered himself that he knew Joe pretty well, and was therefore much amazed by the contradictions of voice, face, and manner which she showed him in rapid succession that day. For she was in half a dozen different moods in the course of half an hour. When she met him she looked surprised, though it was impossible to help suspecting that she had come for that express purpose. When she met the light, but when he asked if she missed him, she gave such a chilly, formal reply that despair fell upon him. On learning his good fortune she almost clapped her hands. Was the joy all for the boys? Then on hearing his destination she said, so far away, in a tone of despair that lifted him onto a pinnacle of hope. But the next minute she tumbled him down 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 flutters she was in, everything went amiss. She upset the tray of needles, forgot the salicia 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. Bayer stood by, watching her blush and blunder, and as he watched his own bewilderment seemed to subside, for he was beginning to see that on some occasions women, like dreams, go by contraries. When they came out he put the parcel under his arm with a more cheerful aspect, and splashed through the puddles as if he rather enjoyed it on the whole. Should we not do a little what you call shopping for the babies, and have a farewell feast to-night, 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 the field odours with an affectation of delight as they went in. May they have oranges and figs? asked Mr. Bayer 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 raisins and a bag of almonds and be done with it. Where at Mr. Bayer confiscated her purse, produced his own, and finished the marketing by buying several pounds of grapes, a pot of rosy daisies, and a pretty jar of honey to be regarded in the light of a demi-john. Then, distorting his pockets with knobby bundles and giving her the flowers to hold, he put up the old umbrella in his hand. 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 so short a time remains to me. Yes, sir. And Joe felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a refrigerator. Perhaps also a shawl for Tina's mother. She is so poor and sick, and the husband is such a care. Yes, yes, a thick, warm shawl would be a threat to Tina. And Joe felt as calm and cool all of a sudden as if she had stepped into a house, a thick, warm shawl would be a friendly thing to take the little mother. I'll do it with pleasure, Mr. Bear. I'm going very fast, and he's getting dearer every minute, at a Joe to herself. Then with a mental shake she entered into the business with an energy that was pleasant to behold. Mr. Bear left it all to her, so she chose a pretty gown for Tina, and then ordered work, being a married man condescended to take an interest in the couple who appeared to be shopping for their family. Your lady may prefer this. It's a superior article, a most desirable color, quite chaste and genteel, he said, shaking out a comfortable gray shawl and throwing it over Joe's shoulders. Does this suit you, Mr. Bear? She asked, turning her back into a couple for the chance of hiding her face. Excellently well, we will have it," answered the professor, smiling to himself as he paid for it, while Joe continued to rummage the counters like a confirmed bargain-hunter. Now shall we go home, he asked, as if the words were very pleasant to him. Yes, it's late, and I'm so tired. I didn't seem to have gone in as suddenly as it came out, and the world grew muddy and miserable again, and for the first time she discovered that her feet were cold, her head ached, and that her heart was colder than the former, fuller of pain than the latter. Mr. Bear was going away. He only cared for her as a friend. It was all a mistake, and the sooner it was over, the better. In his head she hailed an approaching omnibus with such a hasty gesture that the daisies flew out of the pot and were badly damaged. This is not our omnibus," said the professor, waving the loaded vehicle away, and stopping to pick up the poor little flowers. I beg your pardon, I didn't see the name distinctly. Never mind, I can walk. I'm used to plotting in the dark, and I can't find a place to hide, rather than openly wipe her eyes. Mr. Bear saw the drops on her cheeks, though she turned her head away. The sight seemed to touch him very much, for suddenly, stooping down, he asked in a tone that meant a great deal. Hearts, dearest, why do you cry? Now, if Joe had not been in fib proper to the occasion, instead of which that undignified creature answered, with an irrepressible sob, because you are going away. Ah, my gut, that is so good, cried Mr. Bear, managing to clasp his hands in spite of the umbrella and the bundles. Joe, I have nothing but much love to give you. I came to see if you could and I waited to be sure that I was something more than a friend. Am I? Can you make a little place in your heart for old fritz? He added, all in one breath. Oh, yes, said Joe, and he was quite satisfied, for she folded both hands over his arm and looked up at him with an expression that plainly showed how happy she would be to walk through life beside him, even though she had no better shelter than the umbrella, if he carried it. It was certainly proposing under difficulties, for even if he had desired to do so Mr. Bear could not go down upon his knees on account of the mud, nor could he offer Joe his hand, except figuratively, for both were full. Much less could he indulge in tender remonstrations in the open street, though he was near it, so the only way in which he could express his rapture was to look at her, with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that there actually seemed to be little rainbows in the drops that sparkled on his beard. If he had not loved Joe very much, I don't think he could have done it then, for she looked far from lovely, with her skirts in a deplorable state, her rubber boots splashed to the ankle and her bonnet a-ruin. Fortunately Mr. Bear considered her the most beautiful woman living, and she found him more Joe-like than ever, though his hat-brim was quite limp with the little rills trickling dense upon his shoulders, for he held the umbrella all over Joe, and every finger of his gloves needed mending. Passers-by probably thought them a pair of harmless lunatics, for they entirely forgot to hail a bus and strolled leisurely along, oblivious of deepening dusk and fog. Little they cared what anybody thought, for they were enjoying the happy hour that seldom comes but once in any life, the magical moment which bestows youth on the old, beauty on the plain, wealth on the poor, and gives human hearts a foretaste of heaven. The Professor looked as if he had conquered a kingdom, and the world had nothing more to offer him in the way of bliss. While Joe trudged beside him, feeling as if her place had always been there, and wondering how she ever could have chosen any other lot. Of course she was the first to speak, intelligibly I mean, for the emotional remarks which followed her impetuous, oh yes, were not of a coherent or reportable character. Friedrich, why didn't you? Ah, heaven! She gifts me the name that one speaks since Mina died, cried the Professor, pausing in a puddle to regard her with grateful delight. I always call you so to myself. I forgot, but I won't unless you like it. Like it! It is more sweet to me than I can tell. Say thou also, and I shall say your language is almost as beautiful as mine. Isn't thou a little sentimental, asked Joe, privately thinking it a lovely monosyllable? Sentimental? Yes. Thank God we Germans believe in sentiment, and keep ourselves young, mit it. Your English, you, is so cold. Say thou, hearts dearest. It means so much to me, pleaded Mr. Bear, more like a romantic student than a grave Professor. Well then, why didn't thou tell me all this sooner, asked Joe bashfully? Now I shall have to show thee all my heart, and I so gladly will, because thou must take care of it hereafter. See then, my Joe! Ah, the dear, funny little name! I had a wish to tell something the day I said goodbye in New York, but I thought the handsome friend was betrothed to thee, and so I spoke not. Wouldst thou pass, then, if I had spoken? I don't know. I'm afraid not, for I didn't have any heart just then. Proot, that I do not believe. It was a sleep till the fairy prince came through the wood, and waked it up. Ah, well, the erst day libe ist die beste, but that I should not expect. Yes, the first love is the best, but be so contented, for I never had another. Teddy was only a boy, and soon got over his little fancy, said Joe, anxious to correct the professor's mistake. Good! Then I shall rest happy, and be sure that thou givest me all. I have waited so long, I am grown selfish, as thou wilt find, professorian. I like that, cried Joe, delighted with her new name. Now tell me what brought last just when I wanted you? This. And Mr. Bear took a little worn paper out of his waistcoat pocket. Joe unfolded it, and looked much abashed, for it was one of her own contributions to a paper that paid for poetry, which accounted for her sending it an occasional attempt. How could that bring you, she asked, wondering what he meant? I found it by chance. I knew it by the names and the initials, and in it there was one little verse that seemed to call me. Read and find him. I will see that you go not in the wet. In the Garrett Four little chests all in a row, dim with dust and worn by time, all fashioned and filled long ago, by children now in their prime. Four little keys hung by side, with faded ribbons brave and gay, when fastened there with childish pride long ago on a rainy day. Four little names, one on each lid, carved out by a boyish hand, and underneath their lyeth hid histories of the happy band, once playing here and pausing oft to hear the sweet refrain that came and went on the roof soft in the falling summer rain. Meg on the first lid, smooth and fair, I look in with loving eyes, for folded here with well-known care a goodly gathering lies, the record of a peaceful life, gifts to gentle child and girl, a bridal gown, lines to a wife, a tiny shoe, a baby curl. No toys in this first chest remain, for all are carried away, in their old age to join again in another small Meg's play. Ah happy mother, well I know, you hear like a sweet refrain, lullabies ever soft and low in the falling summer rain. Joe on the next lid, scratched and worn, and within a motley store of headless dolls of pain, 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-writ poems, stories wild, April letters warm and cold, diaries of a willful child, hints of a woman early old, a woman in a lonely home, hearing like a sad refrain, be worthy love and love will come in the falling summer rain. My Beth, the dust is always swept from the lid that bears your name, as if by loving eyes that wept by careful hands that often came, death canonized for us one saint ever less human than divine, and still we lay with tender relics in this household shrine, the silver bell so seldom run, the little cap which last she wore, the fair dead Catherine that hung, by angels born above her door, the songs she sang without lament, in her prison house of pain, forever are they sweetly blent with the falling summer rain. Upon the last lids polished field, legend now both fair and true, a gallant night bears on his shield, Amy in letters gold and blue, within lies snoods that bound her hair, slippers that have danced their last, faded flowers laid by with care, fans whose airy toils are past, gay valentines all ardent flames, trifles that have borne their part, in girlish hopes and tears and chains, the record of a maiden heart, now learning fairer, truer spells, hearing like a blithe refrain, the silver sound of bridal bells in the falling summer rain. Four little chests all in a row, dim with dust and worn by time, four women, taught by wheel and woe, to love and labor in their prime, their sisters, parted for an hour, none lost, one only gone before, made by love's immortal power, nearest and dearest evermore. O, when these hidden stores of ours lie open to the father's sight, may they be rich in golden hours, deeds that show fairer for the light, lives whose brave music long shall ring, like a spirit rain, souls that shall gladly soar and sing in the long sunshine after rain. It's very bad poetry, but I felt it when I wrote it one day when I was very lonely and had a good cry on a rag-bag. I never thought it would go where it could tell tales, said Joe, tearing up the verses the professor had treasured so long. Let it go, and I will have a fresh one when I read all the brown book in which she keeps her little secrets, said Mr. Bear with a smile as he watched the fragments fly away on the wind. Yes, he added earnestly, I read that, and I think to myself, she has a sorrow, she is lonely, she would find comfort in true love. I have a heart full, full for her. Shall I not go home? If this is not too poor a thing to give for what I shall hope to receive, take it in God's name. And so you came to find that it was not too poor, but the one precious thing I needed, whispered Joe. I had no courage to think that at first, heavenly kind as was your welcome to me, but soon I began to hope, and then I said, I will have her if I die for it, but so I will, cried Mr. Bear with a defiant nod, as if the walls of mist closing round them were barriers which he was to surmount or valiantly knock down. Joe thought that was splendid and resolved to be worthy of her night, though he did not come prancing on a charger in gorgeous array. What made you stay away so long, she asked presently, finding it so pleasant to ask confidential questions and such delightful answers that she could not keep silent. It was not easy, but I could not find the heart to take you from that so happy home until I could have a prospect of one to give you, after much time perhaps, and hard work. How could I ask you to give up so much for a poor old fellow who has no fortune but a little learning? I'm glad you are poor. said Joe decidedly, adding in a softer tone, Don't fear poverty. I've known it long enough to lose my dread and be happy working for those I love. And don't call yourself old. Forty is the prime of life. I couldn't help loving you if you were seventy. The professor found that so touching that he would have been glad of his handkerchief if he could have got at it. As he couldn't, Joe wiped his head, laughing, as she took away a bundle or two. I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I'm out of my sphere now, for woman's special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens. I'm to carry my share, Friedrich, and help to earn the home. Make up your mind to that, or I'll never go," she added resolutely, as he tried to reclaim his load. We shall see. Have few patients go, Joe. I must go away and do my work alone. I must help my boys first, because even for you I may not break my word to Mina. Can you forgive that and be happy while we hope and wait? Yes, I know I can, for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty also and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them even for you, so there's no need of hurry or impatience. You can do your part out west, I can do mine here, and both be happy hoping for the best, and leaving the future to be as God wills. Ah! Thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I have nothing to give back but a full heart, and these empty hands," cried the professor, quite overcome. Joe never, never would learn to be proper, for when he said that, as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, not empty now, and stooping down kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella. It was dreadful, but she would have done it if the flock of draggletailed sparrows on the hedge had been human beings, for she was very far gone indeed, and quite regardless of everything but her own happiness. Though it came in such a very simple guise, that was the crowning moment of both their lives, when turning from the night and storm and loneliness to the household light and warmth and peace waiting to receive them, with a glad, welcome home Joe led her lover in and shut the door. End of Chapter 46 Recording by Christine Lehmann