#Amber#
The night air whistled in the cool breeze, setting a wonderful racket, but no one could have noticed in the homely space inhabited by four girls-of which the reader will know of soon.
Despite the warmth in the tiny cottage, the fragrance of chriysthtums, the glee of the flare-like fire, Jo was in a rankled state.
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without presents,” Jo sighed, seeming to recline all of her bodily weight against a single piece of furniture, this case being a worn, yet comforting rug.
“Isn’t it dreadful to be poor!” Meg always stated things about being poor, as she had witnessed the glamour of the ‘Old days’, when ‘Father was rich’.
“It isn’t fair that some girls have lots of pretty things, and others don’t,” Amy sniffed, injuredly, at least, in her own pitying phrasal.
“We’ve got Mother and Father-and each other,” Beth sat contentedly in her chair, smiling. The simple bliss on her face affected the girls tremendously, setting them back in the good state they had been until Jo set upon them another observation.
“We haven’t got Father-and mayn’t for a long time.”
Each, tending to the knitting and doing some work or other, added perhaps never, but none dared voice it, for the fear of upsetting another.
“Oh! Marmee’s coming-quick, get the slippers close to the fire, Jo!”
The sight of the worn, army slippers had a good effect on the girls, for they laid their work aside and prepared for Mother’s arrival. Amy gave up her seat voluntarily, even when it was her favorite love seat. Meg stopped her scolding words, then went into the kitchen to get Marmee’s best mug. Jo, ignoring her deflated, groggy mood, set Marmee’s slippers down close to the heath, where Beth Had previously dusted.
Beth herself contentedly arranged Marmee’s things nicely and popped a fresh rose into the vase on her mother’s table. It was a pleasant sight: warm as it was inside the cheery house, even when wind and hail battered the outsides of the worn, ancient walls. It was a little domestic setting, and the trees that framed it all were gay, tapping the windowpanes here and there.
#Yichen#
Jo was not moody anymore. Meg lost her preaching word and kindness filled the room as Marmee entered.
She settled in the armchair nearest to the fire and Amy hopped onto her lap, waiting to receive her usual cuddle. Everyone made the room comfortable, each in their own unique way. Beth trotted up and down and around the parlour. Meg arranged the tea table with care, placing yet another rose in a vase. Jo collected wood, clattering them into the fire. Amy shouted instructions from the cosy armchair. It was a lovely sight, as pretty as a picture, a pleasure to the senses.
After, the girls settled down to enjoy the happiest hour of the day. “I have a treat for you,” announced Marmee, a cheery smile on her face.
Beth clapped her hands, oblivious of her flower in her hand. “A letter!” cried Jo, with a toss of her ball of thread. “Three cheers for father!”
“Yes, indeed, it is a letter. A nice long one too.”
This letter was not full if the usual ramble of the horrible scenes and hardship of the war with descriptions of the hard time, instead the writer’s feelings flushed out in a flurry.
So, everyone contented herself as Marmee read the emotional letter to her four eager daughters.
“Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them night. A year seems very long to wait before I see them. But remind them that we may all work, for these hard days may not be wasted. I know that they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duties faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully, that when I come back to them, I may be fonder and prouder of my little women.”
Everyone sniffed when it came to that part. Jo was not ashamed when a tear rolled down her cheek and another tumbled down her nose. Amy hid her face in Marmee’s hair and sobbed. “Oh, I am a selfish girl! I will do better so he need not be disappointed when he comes back! cried Jo.
“We all will!”, added Meg.
#Bessie#
“I think too much about my looks and hate to work, but won’t anymore, if I can help it.”
“I’ll try and be what he loves to call me, ‘a little woman’ and not be rough and wild, but do my duty and not wanting to be somewhere else,” Jo replied, although trying to contain her temper would be trying to control a sandstorm.
Beth sat quietly, brushing off the occasional tears with the azure army sock and decidedly to herself, to be all that Father had wanted to see in the joyous return home.
“Do you remember how you played Pilgrim Progress when you were little?” Marmee said gently. It had always been a pleasure to remember the days before. “I would tie my piece bags on your backs as burdens and give you rolls of paper, sticks, hats as you travelled from the Cellar, ‘the City of Destruction. When you reached the housetop, you had all the things to build the Celestial City! It was so delightful.”
“Especially the parts of the lions, fighting Apollyon, and the hobgoblins,” Jo highlighted.
“I preferred when the bags fell off and tumbled down the stairs,” answered Meg.
“I don’t recall much but I was afraid of the Cellar and I liked the cake and milk we had at the top. If I wasn’t too old, I would quite like to play it again,” Amy remarked with a loud sigh. She was only twelve but seemed to have reached a level of maturity to renounce childish things.
“No, we are never too old dear, for we play it all the time, in one way or another. We have our burdens, the road that lay ahead, and the longing for true happiness and good that would be the guide through many troubles and mistakes, to the peace of the Celestial City. My little pilgrims, begin again, not to play, but in earnest, and see how far you go when Father returns.”
“But Mother,” Amy asked, “Where are our bundles?” She was a very literal young lady and didn’t like to take things lightly.
“Each of you already said your burdens just now, except Beth. I doubt she ought to have any!”
“Yes, I do,” Beth said quietly, touching the army sock and thinking of her Father. “Dishes, dusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and afraid of people.”
#Amber#
Chapter 2
It was the day that seemed imperious upon everyone’s mood. But when the four girls woke, it was to a wonderful display of food, cheesecake, and bread rolls.
“We ought to wait for Marmee!” Jo danced a celebratory jig.
And so the hungry sisters waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, Marmee burst through the kitchen door, cheeks flushed, eyes a-glow.
“Girls, wouldn’t you be so kind as to give your breakfast to a poor mother with three- no, four children in a wooden hut this way into the forest? It’s a lot to ask, I know but-”
Marmee wrung her hands.
A brief silence ensued.
Then, “Of course!” Jo flew like a cat across the room, taking a cheesecake here, a roll there. The others joined her, picking up the baked goods and plopping the plump loaves and watery jam jars into 4 unique baskets. All linked hands and set off to deliver an act of kindness.
At the old, rundown shack, Marmee put logs to the fire and was the nurse in the who visit. Meg set a crumbling table, draping blankets across three frost-bitten children’s shoulders. Beth sang while she dusted the rundown home, Jo cradled the fourth child who was a newborn. Amy set about putting one of her paintings on the shack’s walls.
“Die Engel sind gekommen!” Three pairs of wide, happy eyes stared up at Meg.
“Funny angles in cloaks and mitts!” Jo shouted, not caring to reign in her bliss.
“We are having quite an Eve!” Beth, Amy, Jo, and Meg laughed as the three children, one mother, and a baby devoured their breakfast.
However, it wasn’t anger that filled them. No, there was a tingly feeling in all of their hearts.
#Yichen#
Chapter 2
The girl had never been called “angel children” before and thought it very agreeable. Jo revelled the most for she was named as “Sancho” since her birth.
It was a very happy breakfast, despite the fact that they didn’t receive any and when they went away, not a soul in all the city were merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfast and contented themselves with only bread and milk on a jolly Christmas morning.
” That’s what being a neighbour is about, loving neighbours better than ourselves. I like it,” stated Meg as they busied themselves setting presents and Marmee upstairs sorting clothes for the Hummels.
Not a very luxurious or splendid show but a great deal of love were done up in the bundles and the tall vase of red roses, pretty white flowers and trailing vines were elegant on the dainty table.
“Quick! She’s coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for Marmee!” called Jo, prancing about while Meg led Marmee to the seat of honour.
#Bessie#
Beth played her merriest march, Amy thrust open the door, and Meg acted the Escort with grace. Marmee looked surprised with soon melted into a moved expression, gazing lovingly at the gifts.
She went around touching each present with care and reading the little pieces of paper attached to them. She put on the slippers at once, tucked the new handkerchief scented musky with Amy’s cologne, pinned the fresh flowers to her chest, and the silky gloves were a perfect size.
Marmee hugged and gave a big kiss to all of her daughters as they explained. It is all in a certain fashion, simple yet filled with joy as they all talked over each other, which made the festivities so joyful at the present and so heartwarming to recall.
Then, they all got to work.
The morning’s giftings had taken so much of their time that they had decided to dedicate the rest of the day for the preparation of the evening’s play. Too young to go to the Theaters frequently and too poor to afford lavish private plays, the girls used their imagination and hands to craft out their own.
Jo played the male part as no one besides the sisters had been admitted and wore a pair of boots given to her as a gift which she took great pleasure in. Due to the puny size of the cast, the two supporting characters have several roles and they deserved credit for memorizing three to four parts, constantly whisking in and out of different costumes, and managing the so-called stage.
It indeed was excellent practice for their memories, a harmless amusement, and had filled many hours that would have otherwise been idle, lonely, or spent less wisely.
#Amber#
It was when the curtain, at last, rose for Jo’s long-awaited Langstone Tragedy, that Hugo, the main role managed to tangle himself up in some wire and had to be helped out by Eliza, the protagonist of the set.
All went smoothly after that; Hugo pledged allegiance with his brother, promptly got stabbed in the back, and had a fit about how his shoes weren’t in the ‘right polish.’
At least, everything was going well until the story banked t the imprisonment of Elize, who was just climbing out of a tower when her long wig caught on the frame. Poor Eliza landed, and the tower crashed about her ears. And yet, the play continued.
Henceforth, Jo reminded herself to not allow Amy to do the climbing-ou-of-windows parts. This little play went on without issue, and Jo felt a tingly feeling at the bottom of her toes in her fidgety attitude.
Amy would say, ‘pridely’.
As young readers do like to ascertain appearance, we will now take the chance to sketch the girls.
Meg, being the oldest, is rather beautiful, with chestnut hair and very high care for her manicured hands. Amy went with a sniff and an artistic touch, though she hated her flat nose, as it wasn’t ‘aristocratly’. Jo, a flyboy of her age, like a gangly colt unsure about what to do. And, finally, Beth, the picture of a humble, caring housewife, singing and only venturing out to embrace those whom she trusted.
#Yichen#
After the wonderous show, there was a surprise, even to the actors. When they saw the table, they looked at each other in sheer amazement. It was just like loving Marmee to get a little treat for them but anything so elegant and fine was unheard of since the departed days of endless plenty. There was ice-cream – two delicious dishes of it, lovely pastel pink and pure white – and mouth-watering cake, succulent fruit, irresistible French bonbons and, in the centre of the celestial table, stood four great bouquets of gorgeous flowers.
This took there breath away and the girls gazed at one another and Marmee, who seemed to be enjoying immensely. Nothing could be better. It was a truly marvellous treat.
“Is it fairies?” said Amy.
“It’s Santa Claus! ” exclaimed Beth.
“No, it’s mother!” Meg smiled a sweet smile.
“Aunt March was in a good mood and sent it!” guessed Jo with excitement.
“All wrong. Mr Laurence sent it,” laughed Marmee.
“Mr Laurence! But we don’t even know him!” cried the girls.
“Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast. He is a peculiar old gentlemen but the news pleased him thoroughly. He knew my father, years ago; and he sent me a polite message this afternoon, asking that I allow him to express his feelings towards you by sending a few treats and trifles. It was so kind and I couldn’t refuse so now you have a wonderful little feast now to make up for you simple bread-and-milk breakfast. Isn’t that nice?” Marmee said.
“That cheeky boy put it into his head, I’m certain. He is a capital fellow, you know. I think he looks as he wants to know us; but he’s rather bashful and shy. Meg is being too prim and proper and she forbid me from speaking to him when we pass,” said Jo, as the fancy, elaborate plates went around, and the ice began to melt, with ‘Ohs!’ and ‘Ahs!’ of delighted satisfaction.
Then, chatter began. Meg blabbed on about how her cat ran away and Mr Laurence brought it back. Amy chattered about how he had a fancy home with lovely things. Jo shouted in the top of her voice about how he has a grandson and keeps him inside, when he isn’t riding or walking with his tutor and makes him study very hard. Even quiet Beth joined in the conversation.
#Bessie#
Chapter 3
“Jo! Oh, Jo come and look at this!” Meg called, searching for her sister who was bundled in blankets and eyes gazed with tears from reading.
“Great delight! Mrs. Gardiner had invited us for tomorrow night!” Meg squealed and began to read the treasured letter with an enthusiasm which Jo found too much. “Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to have Miss March and Miss Josephine for the dance of New Year’s Eve! Marmee is urging us to go! What should we wear?” Meg held out her hands in a delicate manner and studied her humble apparel as if imagining she was dressed in silk.
“What is there to wear but our poplins?” Jo answered plainly.
“If only…I wish!”
“Our pops look like silk.” Jo comforted, “Although yours is nice as new, mine has gotten a tear and burn. They show badly and I can’t rid them.”
“You mustn’t move then.” Meg decided.
“My gloves are also stained with lemonade and we can’t get new ones so I shall go without.”
“You have to wear gloves! Or else I shan’t go! You can’t dance if you don’t have gloves and I shall be very disappointed if you don’t. You should know better! You know how expensive new ones are and Marmee can’t afford them.”
“Then I would sit with my gloves crumpled in my hand. I can’t dance anyway because of the burn on my dress. Or we should each have a good one and carry a bad one.” Jo suggested which was quickly cut off Meg.
“Your hands won’t fit and it would stretch my gloves terribly,” began Meg who cherished her gloves very much.
“Then I’ll do without! I don’t care what they think!” Jo exclaimed, exasperated, and picked up her book ready to end the discussion and leave.
“No! You may have it! Just don’t stain my glove, behave politely, and don’t use slang!”
In the end, Meg went away to inspect her dress and sang blithely, inspecting her dress and touching the one lace frills of the simple garment. Jo sat to finish her book and frolicked with the society of rats which kept her company during her reading.
#Amber#
When they arrived at the ball, Meg immediately went off with a partner and a few giggling girls in frilled, silk dresses that were overly elegant.
Jo stood, her back to the lavender walls, hiding the tell-tale burn mark behind her.
The ornamental chandelier twinkled like stars in the dazzling light of the dance floor as Meg whirled about, swapping partners now and then. She pirouetted with a red-haired gentleman who she personally liked.
Meanwhile, Jo stood uncomfortably, pushing the urge to join Meg down her gullet.
“Hello!”
Jo twisted her head around sharply.
“Hello.”
“Why are you not dancing?”
“You won’t tell, will you?” Jo hesitated, putting her hands behind her back, which earned her a raised eyebrow from Meg.
The strange boy laughed.
“Theodore Lawrence keeps his word!”
“Oh well, I burnt my dress when I was standing too close to a fire.” Jo gushed, and, being delivered in one breath, it was inarticulate.
And so the pair got acquainted, Jo asking for the boy’s name, then likewise he asked her. They got along quite merrily.
“Wouldn’t you mind a spin in the hall? No one will see your burnt dress there.”
Jo accepted, ignoring Meg glaring at her, despite trying to hold back the ‘unladylike’ stare.
When Jo saw the pearly white gloves her partner put on, she wished she had a clean pair.
And how they got on! They romped about, without having restrictions on ‘womanly manners (or manly ones!)’. Really, their version of the tango was leaping up and down like dancing frogs and twisting about like jellyfish.
But when they finally returned to the main room where the dancing was going on, Meg had a bitter story to tell.
“My ankle—the wretched high-heel twisted it!”
“Meg! I told you that those dastardly heels would be of abuse!”
Jo wrung her hands. She was in the indecision of a kind most average American adults don’t even experience.
“May I help?” Laurie asked.
Ten minutes later, the foursome (Hannah had come to pick the girls up) were in a carriage. Hannah didn’t complain-she hated the rain more than any abnormal housecat ever would.
#Yichen#
So they rolled away in the luxurious carriage, feeling very festive and elegant. Laurie sat on the box, so Meg could rest her foot. Chatter arose as the girls talked over the party.
“I had a capital time. Did you?” said Jo, tying her beautiful, chest-nut hair to make herself comfortable.
“Yes, a wonderful time. Till I hurt myself, of course. Oh, Annie Moffat, Sallie’s friend, asked me to come to her place for a week, when Sallie does. I would love to go, if Marmee let’s me,” replied Meg, cheerfulness elevating at the thought.
“I saw this red-headed fellow. I ran away from him. Was he nice?” inquired Jo, changing the subject for she hated girly things.
“Oh, very. this hair is auburn, not red,” answered Meg.
“He looked like a grasshopper in a fit when he tried the new step. Laurie and I couldn’t help laughing. Did you hear us? We were very loud.”
“No, but it was very rude. What were you doing all that time, hiding?” was Meg’s stern reply.
Jo explained her adventures and they were home when she finished. With many “thanks” and “good nights”, they crept home, hoping not to disturb any dozing sleepers. But the door creaked and squeaked loudly at the exact instant. Two night caps bobbed up and two eager but sleepy voices cried “Tell us about the party! Tell us about the party!”
#Bessie#
With Meg’s disapproval, Jo had gotten some chocolate sweets for Beth and Amy which they nimble on as they heard the events of the evening splendors.
“I ought to say that it seems lovely to be a fine young lady who arrives home in a carriage and sit in my gown while a maid waits on me,” Meg said, peering at the humble room as Jo bounded her injured foot with arnica. Meg touched her broken curls, dreaming back to the time when Father was rich and thought of all the things which she desired.
As the dark mix of colors filled the sky and pure white stars decorated shaded hues, the bead of amber as light, the joy, and love of a family filled the girl’s worlds like nowhere before, Jo smelled the chocolatey aroma and remarked, “I don’t believe that fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do despite our old gowns, ruined glove, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles if we are silly enough to try,”
And I think Jo was quite right.
#Amber#
Chapter 3 Being Neighborly
When Jo had finished her Monday chores, she decidedly began romping outside in the chilly December snow. But it was the sight of a closed window that caught her attention. Laurie had been playing with the flowers outside of his window and had left it open to appreciate the wintery breeze. Jo grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it at him. When he came from the window, Jo called, “I’ll come u if you like.”
“Alright, but I do have a nasty cold,” Laurie noted.
“Just a few minutes!”
When Jo had told the family about Laurie being sick, Beth went and got her kittens to keep him company. There was a rice cake to be delivered, roses from Marmee’s vase, and gloves to wear.
So when Jo came to the Laurence’s, it was in high spirits.
“I say! You are a great worker!” Jo nodded briskly, her hands busy with prepping Laurie’s hurricane-zone room.
“This year will be very cold, so get well soon and all the better,” Jo almost shouted while giving Laurie the cake.
“This looks too pretty to eat!’ Laurie was too excited to notice that he was laughing, and causing quite a racquet too.
Downstairs, Maria, the maid muttered to herself. “What’s got into the boy, I wonder. Gloomy now, chortling the next,” But she did not notice the second ring of laughter, which Jo had uttered.
#Yichen#
So the conversation started.
“I’ll be back in two minutes; for it only needs be a bit neater, that’s all. Then, you’re ready,” stated Jo, rushing to get a brush, then straightening the books and other objects in the room. Soon, the room had quite a different air. Laurie watched respectfully in silence and sat down obediently when Jo beckoned him to sit down on the sofa; he ensconced with a satisfactory sigh, saying in a grateful tone: ” Oh, Jo! How kind you are! Now, please let me amuse you.”
“No. I came here to amuse you. Shall I read aloud?” returned Jo, gesturing towards some intriguing and inviting books in a corner near by.
“Thank you very much but no. Sorry. I’ve read those. If you don’t mind, I’d rather talk,” answered Laurie.
“Not a bit. I can talk forever if you wind me up first. Beth says that you never know when I will stop.”
“Is Beth the rosy-cheeked one, the one who stays at home a lot and sometimes skips out happily with a little basket in hand?” Laurie inquired with interest.
“Yes, that’s Beth, she’s my girl, and a good one, too.”
“Meg is the pretty one and the snow-maiden with curly hair is Amy, I believe?”
“How did you know that?” was the shocked reply.
Laurie blushed beetroot, but answered honestly, “Well, I often hear you calling to each other. You have such good times when I’m stuck up here. I just can’t help looking over. I beg your pardon for my pertinence but sometimes you leave the curtains open, I think you forget, and when I look through, I see a vase bulging with flowers, the lamps are lit, you’re all settled around the table, I stare a your mother, her face is so pretty behind the flowers, it’s like looking at a picture. I can’t help looking. I don’t have mother, you know.” Laurie poked the fire to conceal a sad twitch of his lip.
The lonely, longing look in his eyes pierced into Jo’s warm sympathetic heart. She had been told from birth that there was no nonsense in her head, and at fifteen, she was a frank and innocent as any child. Laurie was lonely and ill while Jo revelled in happiness and love so she gladly tried to share it. Her face was unusually friendly and her decided mouth was gentle as she said:
“We’ll never draw the curtains again. We’ll let you watch as much as you like. I just wish, though, you would come instead on peeping. Marmee – she’s our mother and we call her Marmee – is splendid, she’d do heaps of good to you, Beth will sing if I begged her to, she’s wonderful, Amy will dance with graceful moves to entertain you, Meg and I will make you burst with laughter with our ridiculously hilarious and witty props for our stage and we’d have a capital time! Will you grandpa let you?”
_______________________________________________________________________
#Bessie#
“I’m sure he will if your mother asked him. He is awfully kind behind all that snow and ice, and worries about me being a bother to you.”
“You are not a bother!” Jo quicked interrupted. “We are neighbors and we have all been so wanting to get to know you for so long! We haven’t lived here for too long but have all been acquainted with all our neighbors, all except you.”
“Ah, Grandpa mostly lives inside his books, and my tutor, Mr. Brooke is only here for a little while so I’m very lonely,” Laurie admitted, a bit sadly.
“That’s a shame. You ought to try to visit other places, and then you would have lots of friends and pleasant places to go! Do rid of being bashful, it will disappear once you start trying.”
Laurie brightened again but did not take offense at being called bashful. Jo’s warm words couldn’t be depicted as anything else than kind.
“How are your school?”
“Oh, I don’t go to school,” Jo replied. “I’m a businessman- er girl. I wait on my great aunt, she’s a quite dear but cross soul.”
Laurie seemed to want to inquire more but constrained, realizing that asking more about personal matters would be considered rude, although he doubted that light-hearted Jo would think much of it.
Jo enjoyed his well manners and decided Aunt March wouldn’t mind sparing a laugh and told Laurie, in vivid details, about the twitchy old lady, her fat poodle, her Spanish parrot, and the library which Jo pored over. Laurie laughed with immense delight when Jo came to the part when a prim gentleman tried to court Aunt March and accidentally toppled his wing over, amidst a grand speech. A maid came in to check on Laurie as he was doubling over in laughter and glistening tears ran down his cheek.
“Please do go on!”
Inspired by her success, Jo told on about her plays, plans, her worries of Father, and a glimpse into the unique and interesting lives the sisters led. A discussion on books was held and Jo was elated to find that Laurie treasured them as much as she and had in fact, read more books than her.
“If you want, you could come down and see ours when Grandpa is here so you needn’t be afraid,” Laurie suggested.
“I’m not afraid of anything!” Jo retorted, but Laurie thought otherwise if Jo had actually caught Grandpa between one of his moods.
The whole house seemed to be bathed in sunshine as Laurie guided Jo around the house, letting Jo examine whatever struck her liking. At last, they arrived at the library where Jo clapped her hands and pranced, which she often did when she was delighted. It was enormous, filled with volumes of books, decorated with pictures and statues, cabinets filled with coins and curious trinkets, elegant armchairs of polished wood and leather, and best of all, a warm, open fireplace surrounded by charming tiles.
Sinking into one of the chairs, Jo sighed, one of great pleasure. “What richness! Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest person in the world!”
“One can’t live off books,” Laurie replied with great honestly, shaking his head as he scanned the vast yet seemingly forlorn room. Before he could say more, a bell rang and Jo sprang up immediately.
“Mercy me is that your Grandpa?!”
#Amber#
“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything,” Laurie suppressed a burst of laughter.
Jo tightened her lip and performed a comical visage of sticking her tongue out.
“I’ll go and tell the maid, and perhaps you might mind not getting swallowed by The Grouch,” Laurie seemed quite jolly.
Jo nodded, and Laurie left her for the parlor.
Jo stared up at the grand portrait of Laurie’s grandfather.
“You aren’t half as handsome as my grandfather was, though I do think that you have a stark will and a kind heart. But you are quite stark like Laurie mentioned.”
“That’s right, little girl, and am I not as handsome as your grandfather, you think?”
Poor Jo started and mumbled, “Yes, he was quite handsome.”
The old man who was of course Laurie’s grandfather had fierce cheeks, wrinkled slightly. His bushy beard of white could have housed a family of pigeons, or perhaps two. His bulk was medium, but the tiny spectacles that perched upon his nose made ‘The Grunch’ seem quite genial indeed.
“And don’t I have more strength in me?” Laurie’s Grandfather inquired.
“No Sir, though I prefer your strength of mind.” Jo returned to her polite quietness.
She started towards the hallway and was met by an offering of a crooked arm.
Laurie, who was just turning the corner and opening his mouth, was quite shaken at the sight of the genial old man and the pink Jo coming up to him.
“I really do think he’s changed,” Laurie reflected, slightly amused by this banter.
#Yichen#
He acted out a series of witty evolutions behind their backs, creating a volcanic explosion of muffled sniggering from Jo.
Mr Laurence was very quiet while he had his four cups of tea, but his ears and eyes did not fall asleep while he drank. He watched his grandson and Jo chatting away, escaping into another world together. Laurie was different, but not just subtly: he had altered boldly, like a splodge of white paint on a black background. There were mountains of colour, light and life in the lively boy’s face now, loneliness was extinct in his merry mind.
“She is right. That fellow is lonely. I’ll just look and see what those good girls can do to him,” Mr Laurence reflected, as he watched and listened. Jo’s odd, forthright ways fitted him nicely and her understanding for boys was astonishing, causing the cordial gentleman to like her.
If the Laurence were “prim and poky,” then Jo would be awkward and shy, completely unlike herself. However, discovering them as easy and friendly, she played her character beautifully.
Now, she got up to leave, but was stopped by Laurie who something to show her. It was celestial to Jo as she sauntered down corridors after Laurie, enjoying the magnificent walls of blooming colours, soft light, wonderfully fragrant air and beautiful vines and trees above her as received a bouquet of elegant, freshly-cut flowers from Laurie with a “Tell Marmee that these are for her and say that the medicine that she sent was so helpful.”
The two found Mr Laurence by the fire in the elaborate drawing room, but Jo was gazing at the grand piano not the agreeable old gentleman with a great bush of beard.
“Can you play?” she asked Laurie, a respectful, polite expression on her face.
“Yes, sometimes,” a modest voice replied.
“Please do now, I want to tell Beth this.”
“Won’t you first?”
“Can’t; don’t know how to. I’m too stupid to learn. But I really love music.”
#Bessie#
Laurie sat down to play and Jo listened, the beautiful mellow filling the drawing-room, as everything seemed to stop and hear the soft tune of the ivory keys. Jo’s respect had grown for the Laurence boy and praised him endlessly. She, however, didn’t notice the tight atmosphere of Laurie’s grandfather, who stood in the corner, surveying the grand piano.
“Now, now, young lady, too much sugar plums aren’t good for a young lad. His music isn’t bad and I do hope he would restrain to do more useful things in the future. You should get going now, I’m much obliged to you and I would wish you to come again. My respects to your mother, good night Dr. Jo.”
Although he shook Jo’s hand kindly and with warmth, she could sense that something had not pleased him. When Jo left the room, she turned back to see him looking at the piano as if troubled by it.
“Did I say something amiss?” Jo asked Laurie when they to the hall.
“No it was me, he doesn’t like to hear me play,” Laurie reassured, and something in him seemed to hint sadness.
“Why? It was wonderful!”
“I’ll tell you someday, but not now. My tutor is accompanying you home as I am unable.”
“There’s no need, I’m not a young lady. It’s just a step away. Take care.”
“You will come again, won’t you?”
“If you promise to visit us when you are better.”
“Of course, good night Jo,” Laurie said happily as Jo also bid him farewell.
#Amber#
That night, all the girls huddled around Jo to hear of her ventures.
Meg was immediately transported into a world different from her own, where she was rich and had everything she wanted. Beth felt the allure of the music inside the grand piano Jo mentioned. She let out a satisfied sigh when Jo described the ornate carvings that adorned the piano. Amy was delighted; what a house of artistry! Her mental note ran along the lines of going into the house and copying the grand artwork.
All of the girls saw the house as different things. They all confirmed that indeed, the grand manor was their ‘castle beautiful’.
Over the next month, the girls explored the house under the guard of Mr. Lawrence. Amy passed her lions, the life-like gargoyles that perched on the gate, with gold collars attached to their guard-dog-like forms.
Meg bashfully surpassed Mr. Brooke, and she carefully took in the abundance of chocolate brown eyes.
Beth had the hardest lion; for Jo didn’t have one, she was too jovial for barriers. It was Old Mr. Lawrence. Beth felt that her frame always quivered before encountering the old man, and once his “Grr!” had her bolting out into the snow in a second.
However, the Mr. Lawrence was soldierly and knew that Beth adored music.
So one day, he artfully led the conversation to music, mentioning how the Grand piano needed someone to play it.
“If anyone of the girls are happy and good enough, they may batter away at the old thing as long as they wish, and all privacy shall be respected.
Beth’s golden head popped out from behind Jo.
“I would love to!” And her joyful words brought a warm, crinkly smile to Mr. Laurence’s face.
To Beth, he was no longer a glowering giant with a ‘Grr!’ on his lips whenever she might glance.
And those times passed, with friendship and joy in the hearts of those who participated
Henceforth, we shall enlist on another part of the sisters’ journey.
Chapter 4 The lions are gone!
#Yichen#
Beth was astounded at the irresistibly tempting offer, squeezing her hands tightly to stop them from clapping. Mr Laurence carried on with an odd, little smile on his crinkly, wrinkled face:
“They don’t need to ask or see anyone, just run in an play. I am at the other end in my study, Laurie is out a lot and servants never come near after nine. ”
He rose, as if leaving, and Beth decided to speak. “Please tell the young ladies what I said, and if they don’t care to come, why, never mind,” he added.
Now, a soft, little hand slipped into his an Beth’s face popped up with a grateful expression, as she said earnestly but timidly: “Oh, sir, they care, really very much!”
“Are you the girl who loves music?” he asked, no startling” Hey!” detected from his lips.
“Yes, I’m Beth. I love music dearly, and I’ll come, if you’re sure that I won’t disturb anyone,” she said, quivering at her boldness and fearing to be rude.
“No one will you disturb, my dear, the house is empty for most of the day, so come and practise as much as you like, I am really obliged.”
“Oh, thank you! How kind you are, sir!” squealed Beth, blushing rose-red at the friendly face. She was no longer scared of Mr Laurence and gave the bigger, rougher hand a happy squeeze, for no words of thanks could come out. The old man stroked her hair fondly, and kissed her, saying softly with a kind voice:
“I once had a girl like you, lovely blue eyes like these. God bless you! Good day,” and he marched away in a hurry.
#Bessie#
Beth talked with Marmee excitedly and conversed with her family of dolls since her sisters wasn’t yet home. Caressing the dolls gently and smiling to them in a sweet manner, she told them of what had happened.
That evening Beth sang blithely, her voice echoing through the rooms and filling houses with laughter, love, and joy. Somewhere in the night, she also had woken Amy by playing the piano on her face.
That morning, after she watched Laurie and his Grandpa leave the house, she cracked open her house door to peek outside to make sure that the two young and old gentlemen did not change their course and turn around to head back inside, she made several retreats before finally wandering to the mansion’s door.
Touching the golden brass knob, she opened the door softly, so not a creak was heard and gilded through the house, as quietly as a mouse and to the drawing-room where her dreams sat. It was the grand piano. And by some coincidence, of course, with easy piano music sheets already laid out.
The moment Beth touched the ivory keys, its single musical tone ringing across the bare empty room, she forgot all of her fears, herself, and everything else melted away and became one with the enchanting melody which captivated her. It was like the voice of an old friend.
When Hannah came to take Beth home, she had no appetite and only smiled, still held by the beauty of music. After that, the chocolate-colored hood would slip through the hedge every day, and silently disappear into the great mansion where her greatest love, the grand piano, waited for her.
#Amber#
Beth was a perfect robin-she tweeted away at her sisters, never bothered them and only requested things so rarely, just perhaps a thing or two to one year.
But the little robin also had a friend, the great mare, who was Jo.
Jo frolicked with Laurie every chance she had. Her toes could not stop wiggling, her eyes could not stop beaming. Her hair bothered her, and she was just another boy in the fields.
But she was female and poor Jo felt that she should be doing something-anything to help the war effort. So she kept herself boyish, kept Meg mad, and she also kept Beth.
“I am so happy Jo! I wish you could all feel as I do-throw those worries aside!”
Beth smiled, her bleached honey-coloured hair swaying with her head, a halo of delight.
Jo exchanged a wide grin, exposing her many teeth, “Beth you are such a dear,”
This was met by nods of “Yes,” and “Agreed,” from Meg and Amy.
Jo felt, that since her heart was set on making Beth happy, she should lament.
“Little robin!” She exclaimed.
“I wish you would want something- you should have things other than us lousy sisters and the Dolls,” Jo briskly swished her hair about, a twister of brown curls.
“Jo, you must know that when I am childish and when I want to see my dolls, I have wants. But I like what I have and want no more than that,” was the sweet reply.
It sent Jo’s heart a-breaking, for she wished she could make the little robin even more happy.