Books: Jo's Boys

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Jo's Boys

by Louisa M. Alcott

Chapter 1 Ten Years Later
Chapter 2 Parnassus
Chapter 3 Jo's Last Scrape
Chapter 4 Dan
Chapter 5 Vacation
Chapter 6 Last Words
Chapter 7 The Lion and the Lamb
Chapter 8 Josie Plays Mermaid
Chapter 9 The Worm Turns
Chapter 10 Demi Settles
Chapter 11 Emil's Thanksgiving
Chapter 12 Dan's Christmas
Chapter 13 Nat's New Year
Chapter 14 Plays at Plumfield
Chapter 15 Waiting
Chapter 16 In the Tennis-court
Chapter 17 Among the Maids
Chapter 18 Class Day
Chapter 19 White Roses
Chapter 20 Life for Life
Chapter 21 Aslauga's Knight
Chapter 22 Positively Last Appearance

Chapter 1 TEN YEARS LATER

If anyone had told me what wonderful changes were to take place
here in ten years, I wouldn't have believed it,' said Mrs Jo to Mrs
Meg, as they sat on the piazza at Plumfield one summer day,
looking about them with faces full of pride and pleasure.

'This is the sort of magic that money and kind hearts can work. I
am sure Mr Laurence could have no nobler monument than the
college he so generously endowed; and a home like this will keep
Aunt March's memory green as long as it lasts,' answered Mrs
Meg, always glad to praise the absent.

'We used to believe in fairies, you remember, and plan what we'd
ask for if we could have three wishes. Doesn't it seem as if mine
had been really granted at last? Money, fame, and plenty of the
work I love,' said Mrs Jo, carelessly rumpling up her hair as she
clasped her hands over her head just as she used to do when a girl.

'I have had mine, and Amy is enjoying hers to her heart's content.
If dear Marmee, John, and Beth were here, it would be quite
perfect,' added Meg, with a tender quiver in her voice; for
Marmee's place was empty now.

Jo put her hand on her sister's, and both sat silent for a little while,
surveying the pleasant scene before them with mingled sad and
happy thoughts.

It certainly did look as if magic had been at work, for quiet
Plumfield was transformed into a busy little world. The house
seemed more hospitable than ever, refreshed now with new paint,
added wings, well-kept lawn and garden, and a prosperous air it
had not worn when riotous boys swarmed everywhere and it was
rather difficult for the Bhaers to make both ends meet. On the hill,
where kites used to be flown, stood the fine college which Mr
Laurence's munificent legacy had built. Busy students were going
to and fro along the paths once trodden by childish feet, and many
young men and women were enjoying all the advantages that
wealth, wisdom, and benevolence could give them.

Just inside the gates of Plumfield a pretty brown cottage, very like
the Dovecote, nestled among the trees, and on the green slope
westward Laurie's white-pillared mansion glittered in the sunshine;
for when the rapid growth of the city shut in the old house, spoilt
Meg's nest, and dared to put a soap-factory under Mr Laurence's
indignant nose, our friends emigrated to Plumfield, and the great
changes began.

These were the pleasant ones; and the loss of the dear old people
was sweetened by the blessings they left behind; so all prospered
now in the little community, and Mr Bhaer as president, and Mr
March as chaplain of the college, saw their long-cherished dream
beautifully realized. The sisters divided the care of the young
people among them, each taking the part that suited her best. Meg
was the motherly friend of the young women, Jo the confidante
and defender of all the youths, and Amy the lady Bountiful who
delicately smoothed the way for needy students, and entertained
them all so cordially that it was no wonder they named her lovely
home Mount Parnassus, so full was it of music, beauty, and the
culture hungry young hearts and fancies long for.

The original twelve boys had of course scattered far and wide
during these years, but all that lived still remembered old
Plumfield, and came wandering back from the four quarters of the
earth to tell their various experiences, laugh over the pleasures of
the past, and face the duties of the present with fresh courage; for
such home-comings keep hearts tender and hands helpful with the
memories of young and happy days. A few words will tell the
history of each, and then we can go on with the new chapter of
their lives.

Franz was with a merchant kinsman in Hamburg, a man of
twenty-six now, and doing well. Emil was the jolliest tar that ever
'sailed the ocean blue'. His uncle sent him on a long voyage to
disgust him with this adventurous life; but he came home so
delighted with it that it was plain this was his profession, and the
German kinsman gave him a good chance in his ships; so the lad
was happy. Dan was a wanderer still; for after the geological
researches in South America he tried sheep-farming in Australia,
and was now in California looking up mines. Nat was busy with
music at the Conservatory, preparing for a year or two in Germany
to finish him off. Tom was studying medicine and trying to like it.
Jack was in business with his father, bent on getting rich. Dolly
was in college with Stuffy and Ned reading law. Poor little Dick
was dead, so was Billy; and no one could mourn for them, since
life would never be happy, afflicted as they were in mind and
body.

Rob and Teddy were called the 'Lion and the Lamb'; for the latter
was as rampant as the king of beasts, and the former as gentle as
any sheep that ever baaed. Mrs Jo called him 'my daughter', and
found him the most dutiful of children, with plenty of manliness
underlying the quiet manners and tender nature. But in Ted she
seemed to see all the faults, whims, aspirations, and fun of her own
youth in a new shape. With his tawny locks always in wild
confusion, his long legs and arms, loud voice, and continual
activity, Ted was a prominent figure at Plumfield. He had his
moods of gloom, and fell into the Slough of Despond about once a
week, to be hoisted out by patient Rob or his mother, who
understood when to let him alone and when to shake him up. He
was her pride and joy as well as torment, being a very bright lad
for his age, and so full of all sorts of budding talent, that her
maternal mind was much exercised as to what this remarkable boy
would become.

Demi had gone through College with honour, and Mrs Meg had set
her heart on his being a minister picturing in her fond fancy the
first sermon her dignified young parson would preach, as well as
the long, useful, and honoured life he was to lead. But John, as she
called him now, firmly declined the divinity school, saying he had
had enough of books, and needed to know more of men and the
world, and caused the dear woman much disappointment by
deciding to try a journalist's career. It was a blow; but she knew
that young minds cannot be driven, and that experience is the best
teacher; so she let him follow his own inclina tions, still hoping to
see him in the pulpit. Aunt Jo raged when she found that there was
to be a reporter in the family, and called him 'Jenkins' on the spot.
She liked his literary tendencies, but had reason to detest official
Paul Prys, as we shall see later. Demi knew his own mind,
however, and tranquilly carried out his plans, unmoved by the
tongues of the anxious mammas or the jokes of his mates. Uncle
Teddy encouraged him, and painted a splendid career, mentioning
Dickens and other celebrities who began as reporters and ended as
famous novelists or newspaper men.

The girls were all flourishing. Daisy, as sweet and domestic as
ever, was her mother's comfort and companion. Josie at fourteen
was a most original young person, full of pranks and peculiarities,
the latest of which was a passion for the stage, which caused her
quiet mother and sister much anxiety as well as amusement. Bess
had grown into a tall, beautiful girl looking several years older
than she was, with the same graceful ways and dainty tastes which
the little Princess had, and a rich inheritance of both the father's
and mother's gifts, fostered by every aid love and money could
give. But the pride of the community was naughty Nan; for, like so
many restless, wilful children, she was growing into a woman full
of the energy and promise that suddenly blossoms when the
ambitious seeker finds the work she is fitted to do well. Nan began
to study medicine at sixteen, and at twenty was getting on bravely;
for now, thanks to other intelligent women, colleges and hospitals
were open to her. She had never wavered in her purpose from the
childish days when she shocked Daisy in the old willow by saying:
'I don't want any family to fuss over. I shall have an office, with
bottles and pestle things in it, and drive round and cure folks.' The
future foretold by the little girl the young woman was rapidly
bringing to pass, and finding so much happiness in it that nothing
could win her from the chosen work. Several worthy young
gentlemen had tried to make her change her mind and choose, as
Daisy did, 'a nice little house and family to take care of'. But Nan
only laughed, and routed the lovers by proposing to look at the
tongue which spoke of adoration, or professionally felt the pulse in
the manly hand offered for her acceptance. So all departed but one
persistent youth, who was such a devoted Traddles it was
impossible to quench him.

This was Tom, who was as faithful to his child sweetheart as she
to her 'pestle things', and gave a proof of fidelity that touched her
very much. He studied medicine for her sake alone, having no taste
for it, and a decided fancy for a mercantile life. But Nan was firm,
and Tom stoutly kept on, devoutly hoping he might not kill many
of his fellow-beings when he came to practise. They were
excellent friends, however, and caused much amusement to their
comrades, by the vicissitudes of this merry love-chase.

Both were approaching Plumfield on the afternoon when Mrs Meg
and Mrs Jo were talking on the piazza. Not together; for Nan was
walking briskly along the pleasant road alone, thinking over a case
that interested her, and Tom was pegging on behind to overtake
her, as if by accident, when the suburbs of the city were past a
little way of his, which was part of the joke.

Nan was a handsome girl, with a fresh colour, clear eye, quick
smile, and the self-poised look young women with a purpose
always have. She was simply and sensi bly dressed, walked easily,
and seemed full of vigour, with her broad shoulders well back,
arms swinging freely, and the elasticity of youth and health in
every motion. The few people she met turned to look at her, as if it
was a pleasant sight to see a hearty, happy girl walking
countryward that lovely day; and the red-faced young man
steaming along behind, hat off and every tight curl wagging with
impatience, evidently agreed with them.

Presently a mild 'Hallo!' was borne upon the breeze, and pausing,
with an effort to look surprised that was an utter failure, Nan said
affably:

'Oh, is that you, Tom?'

'Looks like it. Thought you might be walking out today'; and Tom's
jovial face beamed with pleasure.

'You knew it. How is your throat?' asked Nan in her professional
tone, which was always a quencher to undue raptures.

'Throat? Oh, ah! yes, I remember. It is well. The effect of that
prescription was wonderful. I'll never call homoeopathy a humbug
again.'

'You were the humbug this time, and so were the unmedicated
pellets I gave you. If sugar or milk can cure diphtheria in this
remarkable manner, I'll make a note of ~t. 0 Tom, Tom, will you
never be done playing tricks?'

'0 Nan, Nan, will you never be done getting the better of me?' And
the merry pair laughed at one another just as they did in the old
times, which always came back freshly when they went to
Plumfield.

'Well, I knew I shouldn't see you for a week if I didn't scare up
some excuse for a call at the office.

8 JO'S BOYS

You are so desperately busy all the time I never get a word,'
explained Tom.

'You ought to be busy too, and above such nonsense. Really, Tom,
if you don't give your mind to your lectures, you'll never get on,'
said Nan soberly.

'I have quite enough of them as it is,' answered Tom with an air of
disgust. 'A fellow must lark a bit after dissecting corpuses all day. I
can't stand it long at a time, though some people seem to enjoy it
immensely.'

'Then why not leave it, and do what suits you better? I always
thought it a foolish thing, you know,' said Nan, with a trace of
anxiety in the keen eyes that searched for signs of illness in a face
as ruddy as a Baldwin apple.

'You know why I chose it, and why I shall stick to it if it kills me. I
may not look delicate, but I've a deep-seated heart complaint, and
it will carry me off sooner or later; for only one doctor in the world
can cure it, and she won't.'

There was an air of pensive resignation about Tom that was both
comic and pathetic; for he was in earnest, and kept on giving hints
of this sort, without the least encouragement.

Nan frowned; but she was used to it, and knew how to treat him.

'She is curing it in the best and only way; but a more refractory
patient never lived. Did you go to that ball, as I directed?'

'I did.'

'And devote yourself to pretty Miss West?'

'Danced with her the whole evening.'

'No impression made on that susceptible organ of yours?' 'Not the
slightest. I gaped in her face once, forgot to feed her, and gave a
sigh of relief when I handed her over to her mamma.'

'Repeat the dose as often as possible, and note the symptoms. I
predict that you'll "cry for it" by and by.'

'Never! I'm sure it doesn't suit my constitution.'

'We shall see. Obey orders!' sternly.

'Yes, Doctor,' meekly.

Silence reigned for a moment; then, as if the bone of contention
was forgotten in the pleasant recollections called up by familiar
objects, Nan said suddenly:

'What fun we used to have in that wood! Do you remember how
you tumbled out of the big nut-tree and nearly broke your
collar-bones?'

'Don't I! and how you steeped me in wormwood till I was a fine
mahogany colour, and Aunt Jo wailed over my spoilt jacket,'
laughed Tom, a boy again in a minute.

'And how you set the house afire?'

'And you ran off for your band-box?'

'Do you ever say "Thunder-turtles" now?'

'Do people ever call you "Giddy-gaddy"?'

'Daisy does. Dear thing, I haven't seen her for a week.'

'I saw Demi this morning, and he said she was keeping house for
Mother Bhaer.'

'She always does when Aunt Jo gets into a vortex. Daisy is a model
housekeeper; and you couldn't do better than make your bow to
her, if you can't go to work and wait till you are grown up before
you begin lovering.'

'Nat would break his fiddle over my head if I sug gested such a
thing. No, thank you. Another name is engraved upon my heart as
indelibly as the blue anchor on my arm. "Hope" is my motto, and
"No surrender", yours; see who will hold out longest.'

'You silly boys think we must pair off as we did when children; but
we shall do nothing of the kind. How well Parnassus looks from
here!' said Nan, abruptly changing the conversation again.

'It is a fine house; but I love old Plum best. Wouldn't Aunt March
stare if she could see the changes here?' answered Tom, as they
both paused at the great gate to look at the pleasant landscape
before them.

A sudden whoop startled them, as a long boy with a wild yellow
head came leaping over a hedge like a kangaroo, followed by a
slender girl, who stuck in the hawthorn, and sat there laughing like
a witch. A pretty little lass she was, with curly dark hair, bright
eyes, and a very expressive face. Her hat was at her back, and her
skirts a good deal the worse for the brooks she had crossed, the
trees she had climbed, and the last leap, which added several fine
rents.

'Take me down, Nan, please. Tom, hold Ted; he's got my book,
and I will have it,' called Josie from her perch, not at all daunted
by the appearance of her friends.

Tom promptly collared the thief, while Nan picked Josie from
among the thorns and set her on her feet without a word of
reproof; for having been a romp in her own girlhood, she was very
indulgent to like tastes in others. "What's the matter, dear?' she
asked, pinning up the longest rip, while Josie examined the
scratches on her hands. 'I was studying my part in the willow, and
Ted came slyly up and poked the book out of my hands with his
rod. It fell in the brook, and before I could scrabble down he was
off. You wretch, give it back this moment or I'll box your ears,'
cried Josie, laughing and scolding in the same breath.

Escaping from Tom, Ted struck a sentimental attitude, and with
tender glances at the wet, torn young person before him, delivered
Claude Melnotte's famous speech in a lackadaisical way that was
irresistibly funny, ending with 'Dost like the picture, love?' as he
made an object of himself by tying his long legs in a knot and
distorting his face horribly.

The sound of applause from the piazza put a stop to these antics,
and the young folks went up the avenue together very much in the
old style when Tom drove four in hand and Nan was the best horse
in the team. Rosy, breathless, and merry, they greeted the ladies
and sat down on the steps to rest, Aunt Meg sewing up her
daughter's rags while Mrs Jo smoothed the Lion's mane, and
rescued the book. Daisy appeared in a moment to greet her friend,
and all began to talk.

'Muffins for tea; better stay and eat 'em; Daisy's never fail,' said
Ted hospitably.

'He's a judge; he ate nine last time. That's why he's so fat,' added
Josie, with a withering glance at her cousin, who was as thin as a
lath.

'I must go and see Lucy Dove. She has a whitlow, and it's time to
lance it. I'll tea at college,' answered Nan, feeling in her pocket to
be sure she had not forgotten her case of instruments.

'Thanks, I'm going there also. Tom Merryweather has granulated
lids, and I promised to touch them up for him. Save a doctor's fee
and be good practice for me. I'm clumsy with my thumbs,' said
Tom, bound to be near his idol while he could.

'Hush! Daisy doesn't like to hear you saw-bones talk of your work.
Muffins suit us better'; and Ted grinned sweetly, with a view to
future favours in the eating line.

'Any news of the Commodore?' asked Tom.

'He is on his way home, and Dan hopes to come soon. I long to see
my boys together, and have begged the wanderers to come to
Thanksgiving, if not before,' answered Mrs Jo, beaming at the
thought.

'They'll come, every man of them, if they can. Even Jack will risk
losing a dollar for the sake of one of our jolly old dinners,' laughed
Tom.

'There's the turkey fattening for the feast. I never chase him now,
but feed him well; and he's "swellin' wisibly", bless his
drumsticks!' said Ted, pointing out the doomed fowl proudly
parading in a neighbouring field.

'If Nat goes the last of the month we shall want a farewell frolic for
him. I suppose the dear old Chirper will come home a second Ole
Bull,' said Nan to her friend.

A pretty colour came into Daisy's cheek, and the folds of muslin on
her breast rose and fell with a quick breath; but she answered
placidly: 'Uncle Laurie says he has real talent, and after the
training he will get abroad he can command a good living here,
though he may never be famous.'

'Young people seldom turn out as one predicts, so it is of little use
to expect anything,' said Mrs Meg with a sigh. 'If our children are
good and useful men and women, we should be satisfied; yet it's
very natural to wish them to be brilliant and successful.'

'They are like my chickens, mighty uncertain. Now, that
fine-looking cockerel of mine is the stupidest one of the lot, and
the ugly, long-legged chap is the king of the yard, he's so smart;
crows loud enough to wake the Seven Sleepers; but the handsome
one croaks, and is no end of a coward. I get snubbed; but you wait
till I grow up, and then see'; and Ted looked so like his own
long-legged pet that everyone laughed at his modest prediction.

'I want to see Dan settled somewhere. "A rolling stone gathers no
moss", and at twenty-five he is still roaming about the world
without a tie to hold him, except this'; and Mrs Meg nodded
towards her sister.

'Dan will find his place at last, and experience is his best teacher.
He is rough still, but each time he comes home I see a change for
the better, and never lose my faith in him. He may never do
anything great, or get rich; but if the wild boy makes an honest
man, I'm satisfied,' said Mrs Jo, who always defended the black
sheep of her flock.

'That's right, mother, stand by Dan! He's worth a dozen Jacks and
Neds bragging about money and trying to be swells. You see if he
doesn't do something to be proud of and take the wind out of their
sails,' added Ted, whose love for his 'Danny' was now strengthened
by a boy's admiration for the bold, adventurous man.

'Hope so, I'm sure. He's just the fellow to do rash things and come
to glory climbing the Matterhorn, taking a "header" into Niagara,
or finding a big nugget. That's his way of sowing wild oats, and
per- haps it's better than ours,' said Tom thoughtfully; for he had
gained a good deal of experience in that sort of agriculture since
he became a medical student.

'Much better!' said Mrs Jo emphatically. 'I'd rather send my boys
off to see the world in that way than leave them alone in a city full
of temptations, with nothing to do but waste time, money, and
health, as so many are left. Dan has to work his way, and that
teaches him courage, patience, and self-reliance. I don't worry
about him as much as I do about George and Dolly at college, no
more fit than two babies to take care of themselves.'

'How about John? He's knocking round town as a newspaper man,
reporting all sorts of things, from sermons to prize-fights,' asked
Tom, who thought that sort of life would be much more to his own
taste than medical lectures and hospital wards.

'Demi has three safeguards good principles, refined tastes, and a
wise mother. He won't come to harm, and these experiences will
be useful to him when he begins to write, as I'm sure he will in
time,' began Mrs Jo in her prophetic tone; for she was anxious to
have some of her geese turn out swans.

'Speak of Jenkins, and you'll hear the rustling of his paper,' cried
Tom, as a fresh-faced, brown-eyed young man came up the
avenue, waving a newspaper over his head.

'Here's your Evening Tattler! Latest Edition! Awful murder! Bank
clerk absconded! Powder-mill explosion, and great strike of the
Latin School boys!' roared Ted, going to meet his cousin with the
graceful gait of a young giraffe.

'The Commodore is in, and will cut his cable and run before the
wind as soon as he can get off,' called Demi, with 'a nice
derangement of nautical epitaphs', as he came up smiling over his
good news.

Everyone talked together for a moment, and the paper passed from
hand to hand that each eye might rest on the pleasant fact that the
Brenda, from Hamburg, was safe in port.

'He'll come lurching out by tomorrow with his usual collection of
marine monsters and lively yarns. I saw him, jolly and tarry and
brown as a coffee-berry. Had a good run, and hopes to be second
mate, as the other chap is laid up with a broken leg,' added Demi.

'Wish I had the setting of it,' said Nan to herself, with a
professional twist of her hand.

'How's Franz?' asked Mrs Jo.

'He's going to be married! There's news for you. The first of the
flock, Aunty, so say good-bye to him. Her name is Ludmilla
Heldegard Blumenthal; good family, well-off, pretty, and of course
an angel. The dear old boy wants Uncle's consent, and then he will
settle down to be a happy and an honest burgher. Long life to him!'

'I'm glad to hear jt. I do so like to settle my boys with a good wife
and a nice little home. Now, if all is right, I shall feel as if Franz
was off my mind,' said Mrs Jo, folding her hands contentedly; for
she often felt like a distracted hen with a large brood of mixed
chickens and ducks upon her hands.

'So do I,' sighed Tom, with a sly glance at Nan. 'That's what a
fellow needs to keep him steady; and it's the duty of nice girls to
marry as soon as possible, isn't it, Demi?' 'If there are enough nice
fellows to go round. The female population exceeds the male, you
know, especially in New England; which accounts for the high
state of culture we are in, perhaps,' answered John, who was
leaning over his mother's chair, telling his day's experiences in a
whisper.

'It is a merciful provision, my dears; for it takes three or four
women to get each man into, through, and out of the world. You
are costly cteatures, boys; and it is well that mothers, sisters,
wives, and daughters love their duty and do it so well, or you
would perish off the face of the earth,' said Mrs Jo solemnly, as she
took up a basket filled with dilapidated hose; for the good
Professor was still hard on his socks, and his sons resembled him
in that respect.

'Such being the case, there is plenty for the "superfluous women"
to do, in taking care of these helpless men and their families. I see
that more clearly every day, and am very glad and grateful that my
profession will make me a useful, happy, and independent
spinster.'

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