Books: Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo\'s Boys

L >> Louisa May Alcott >> Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo\'s Boys

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"You here! I told Jack to come," she said, half-inclined to send him
back, much as she needed help.

"I wouldn't let him; he and Emil hadn't had any supper, and I
wanted to come more than they did," he said, taking the lantern
from her and smiling up in her face with the steady look in his eyes
that made her feel as if, boy though he was, she had some one to
depend on.

Off she jumped, and ordered him on to Toby, in spite of his
pleading to walk; then they went on again along the dusty, solitary
road, stopping every now and then to call and hearken breathlessly
for little voices to reply.

When they came to the great pasture, other lights were already
flitting to and fro like will-o'-the-wisps, and Mr. Bhaer's voice was
heard shouting, "Nan! Rob! Rob! Nan!" in every part of the field.
Silas whistled and roared, Dan plunged here and there on Toby,
who seemed to understand the case, and went over the roughest
places with unusual docility. Often Mrs. Jo hushed them all,
saying, with a sob in her throat, "The noise may frighten them, let
me call; Robby will know my voice;" and then she would cry out
the beloved little name in every tone of tenderness, till the very
echoes whispered it softly, and the winds seemed to waft it
willingly; but still no answer came.

The sky was overcast now, and only brief glimpses of the moon
were seen, heat-lightening darted out of the dark clouds now and
then, and a faint far-off rumble as of thunder told that a
summer-storm was brewing.

"O my Robby! my Robby!" mourned poor Mrs. Jo, wandering up
and down like a pale ghost, while Dan kept beside her like a
faithful fire-fly. "What shall I say to Nan's father if she comes to
harm? Why did I ever trust my darling so far away? Fritz, do you
hear any thing?" and when a mournful, "No" came back, she wrung
her hands so despairingly that Dan sprung down from Toby's back,
tied the bridle to the bars, and said, in his decided way,

"They may have gone down the spring I'm going to look."

He was over the wall and away so fast that she could hardly follow
him; but when she reached the spot, he lowered the lantern and
showed her with joy the marks of little feet in the soft ground
about the spring. She fell down on her knees to examine the tracks,
and then sprung up, saying eagerly,

"Yes; that is the mark of my Robby's little boots! Come this way,
they must have gone on."

Such a weary search! But now some inexplicable instinct seemed
to lead the anxious mother, for presently Dan uttered a cry, and
caught up a little shining object lying in the path. It was the cover
of the new tin pail, dropped in the first alarm of being lost. Mrs. Jo
hugged and kissed it as if it were a living thing; and when Dan was
about to utter a glad shout to bring the others to the spot, she
stopped him, saying, as she hurried on, "No, let me find them; I let
Rob go, and I want to give him back to his father all myself."

A little farther on Nan's hat appeared, and after passing the place
more than once, they came at last upon the babes in the wood, both
sound asleep. Dan never forgot the little picture on which the light
of his lantern shone that night. He thought Mrs. Jo would cry out,
but she only whispered, "Hush!" as she softly lifted away the
apron, and saw the little ruddy face below. The berry-stained lips
were half-open as the breath came and went, the yellow hair lay
damp on the hot forehead, and both the chubby hands held fast the
little pail still full.

The sight of the childish harvest, treasured through all the troubles
of that night for her, seemed to touch Mrs. Jo to the heart, for
suddenly she gathered up her boy, and began to cry over him, so
tenderly, yet so heartily, that he woke up, and at first seemed
bewildered. Then he remembered, and hugged her close, saying
with a laugh of triumph,

"I knew you'd come! O Marmar! I did want you so!" For a moment
they kissed and clung to one another, quite forgetting all the world;
for no matter how lost and soiled and worn-out wandering sons
may be, mothers can forgive and forget every thing as they fold
them in their fostering arms. Happy the son whose faith in his
mother remains unchanged, and who, through all his wanderings,
has kept some filial token to repay her brave and tender love.

Dan meantime picked Nan out of her bush, and, with a gentleness
none but Teddy ever saw in him before, he soothed her first alarm
at the sudden waking, and wiped away her tears; for Nan also
began to cry for joy, it was so good to see a kind face and feel a
strong arm round her after what seemed to her ages of loneliness
and fear.

"My poor little girl, don't cry! You are all safe now, and no one
shall say a word of blame to-night," said Mrs. Jo, taking Nan into
her capacious embrace, and cuddling both children as a hen might
gather her lost chickens under her motherly wings.

"It was my fault; but I am sorry. I tried to take care of him, and I
covered him up and let him sleep, and didn't touch his berries,
though I was so hungry; and I never will do it again truly, never,
never," sobbed Nan, quite lost in a sea of penitence and
thankfulness.

"Call them now, and let us get home," said Mrs. Jo; and Dan,
getting upon the wall, sent a joyful word "Found!" ringing over the
field.

How the wandering lights came dancing from all sides, and
gathered round the little group among the sweet fern bushes! Such
a hugging, and kissing, and talking, and crying, as went on must
have amazed the glowworms, and evidently delighted the
mosquitoes, for they hummed frantically, while the little moths
came in flocks to the party, and the frogs croaked as if they could
not express their satisfaction loudly enough.

Then they set out for home, a queer party, for Franz rode on to tell
the news; Dan and Toby led the way; then came Nan in the strong
arms of Silas, who considered her "the smartest little baggage he
ever saw," and teased her all the way home about her pranks. Mrs.
Bhaer would let no one carry Rob but himself, and the little fellow,
refreshed by sleep, sat up, and chattered gayly, feeling himself a
hero, while his mother went beside him holding on to any pat of
his precious little body that came handy, and never tired of hearing
him say, "I knew Marmar would come," or seeing him lean down
to kiss her, and put a plump berry into her mouth, "'Cause he
picked 'em all for her."

The moon shone out just as they reached the avenue, and all the
boys came shouting to meet them, so the lost lambs were borne in
triumph and safety, and landed in the dining-room, where the
unromantic little things demanded supper instead of preferring
kisses and caresses. They were set down to bread and milk, while
the entire household stood round to gaze upon them. Nan soon
recovered her spirits, and recounted her perils with a relish now
that they were all over. Rob seemed absorbed in his food, but put
down his spoon all of a sudden, and set up a doleful roar.

"My precious, why do you cry?" asked his mother, who still hung
over him.

"I'm crying 'cause I was lost," bawled Rob, trying to squeeze out a
tear, and failing entirely.

"But you are found now. Nan says you didn't cry out in the field,
and I was glad you were such a brave boy."

"I was so busy being frightened I didn't have any time then. But I
want to cry now, 'cause I don't like to be lost," explained Rob,
struggling with sleep, emotion, and a mouthful of bread and milk.

The boys set up such a laugh at this funny way of making up for
lost time, that Rob stopped to look at them, and the merriment was
so infectious, that after a surprised stare he burst out into a merry,
"Ha, ha!" and beat his spoon upon the table as if he enjoyed the
joke immensely.

"It is ten o'clock; into bed, every man of you," said Mr. Bhaer,
looking at his watch.

"And, thank Heaven! there will be no empty ones to-night," added
Mrs. Bhaer, watching, with full eyes, Robby going up in his
father's arms, and Nan escorted by Daisy and Demi, who
considered her the most interesting heroine of their collection.

"Poor Aunt Jo is so tired she ought to be carried up herself," said
gentle Franz, putting his arm round her as she paused at the
stair-foot, looking quite exhausted by her fright and long walk.

"Let's make an arm-chair," proposed Tommy.

"No, thank you, my lads; but somebody may lend me a shoulder to
lean on," answered Mrs. Jo.

"Me! me!" and half-a-dozen jostled one another, all eager to be
chosen, for there was something in the pale motherly face that
touched the warm hearts under the round jackets.

Seeing that they considered it an honor, Mrs. Jo gave it to the one
who had earned it, and nobody grumbled when she put her arm on
Dan's broad shoulder, saying, with a look that made him color up
with pride and pleasure,

"He found the children; so I think he must help me up."

Dan felt richly rewarded for his evening's work, not only that he
was chosen from all the rest to go proudly up bearing the lamp, but
because Mrs. Jo said heartily, "Good-night, my boy! God bless
you!" as he left her at her door.

"I wish I was your boy," said Dan, who felt as if danger and trouble
had somehow brought him nearer than ever to her.

"You shall be my oldest son," and she sealed her promise with a
kiss that made Dan hers entirely.

Little Rob was all right next day, but Nan had a headache, and lay
on Mother Bhaer's sofa with cold-cream upon her scratched face.
Her remorse was quite gone, and she evidently thought being lost
rather a fine amusement. Mrs. Jo was not pleased with this state of
things, and had no desire to have her children led from the paths of
virtue, or her pupils lying round loose in huckleberry fields. So she
talked soberly to Nan, and tried to impress upon her mind the
difference between liberty and license, telling several tales to
enforce her lecture. She had not decided how to punish Nan, but
one of these stories suggested a way, and as Mrs. Jo liked odd
penalties, she tried it.

"All children run away," pleaded Nan, as if it was as natural and
necessary a thing as measles or hooping cough.

"Not all, and some who do run away don't get found again,"
answered Mrs. Jo.

"Didn't you do it yourself?" asked Nan, whose keen little eyes saw
some traces of a kindred spirit in the serious lady who was sewing
so morally before her.

Mrs. Jo laughed, and owned that she did.

"Tell about it," demanded Nan, feeling that she was getting the
upper hand in the discussion.

Mrs. Jo saw that, and sobered down at once, saying, with a
remorseful shake of the head,

"I did it a good many times, and led my poor mother rather a hard
life with my pranks, till she cured me."

"How?" and Nan sat up with a face full of interest.

"I had a new pair of shoes once, and wanted to show them; so,
though I was told not to leave the garden, I ran away and was
wandering about all day. It was in the city, and why I wasn't killed
I don't know. Such a time as I had. I frolicked in the park with
dogs, sailed boats in the Back Bay with strange boys, dined with a
little Irish beggar-girl on salt fish and potatoes, and was found at
last fast asleep on a door-step with my arms round a great dog. It
was late in the evening, and I was a dirty as a little pig, and the
new shoes were worn out I had travelled so far."

"How nice!" cried Nan, looking all ready to go and do it herself.

"It was not nice next day;" and Mrs. Jo tried to keep her eyes from
betraying how much she enjoyed the memory of her early capers.

"Did your mother whip you?" asked Nan, curiously.

"She never whipped me but once, and then she begged my pardon,
or I don't think I ever should have forgiven her, it hurt my feelings
so much."

"Why did she beg your pardon? my father don't."

"Because, when she had done it, I turned round and said, 'Well,
you are mad yourself, and ought to be whipped as much as me.'
She looked at me a minute, then her anger all died out, and she
said, as if ashamed, 'You are right, Jo, I am angry; and why should
I punish you for being in a passion when I set you such a bad
example? Forgive me, dear, and let us try to help one another in a
better way.' I never forgot it, and it did me more good than a dozen
rods."

Nan sat thoughtfully turning the little cold-cream jar for a minute,
and Mrs. Jo said nothing, but let that idea get well into the busy
little mind that was so quick to see and feel what went on about
her.

"I like that," said Nan, presently, and her face looked less elfish,
with its sharp eyes, inquisitive nose, and mischievous mouth.
"What did your mother do to you when you ran away that time?"

"She tied me to the bed-post with a long string, so that I could not
go out of the room, and there I stayed all day with the little
worn-out shoes hanging up before me to remind me of my fault."

"I should think that would cure anybody," cried Nan, who loved
her liberty above all things.

"It did cure me, and I think it will you, so I am going to try it," said
Mrs. Jo, suddenly taking a ball of strong twine out of a drawer in
her work-table.

Nan looked as if she was decidedly getting the worst of the
argument now, and sat feeling much crestfallen while Mrs. Jo tied
one end round her waist and the other to the arm of the sofa,
saying, as she finished,

"I don't like to tie you up like a naughty little dog, but if you don't
remember any better than a dog, I must treat you like one."

"I'd just as lief be tied up as not I like to play dog;" and Nan put on
a don't-care face, and began to growl and grovel on the floor.

Mrs. Jo took no notice, but leaving a book or two and a
handkerchief to hem, she went away, and left Miss Nan to her own
devices. This was not agreeable, and after sitting a moment she
tried to untie the cord. But it was fastened in the belt of her apron
behind, so she began on the knot at the other end. It soon came
loose, and, gathering it up, Nan was about to get out of the
window, when she heard Mrs. Jo say to somebody as she passed
through the hall,

"No, I don't think she will run away now; she is an honorable little
girl, and knows that I do it to help her."

In a minute, Nan whisked back, tied herself up, and began to sew
violently. Rob came in a moment after, and was so charmed with
the new punishment, that he got a jump-rope and tethered himself
to the other arm of the sofa in the most social manner.

"I got lost too, so I ought to be tied up as much as Nan," he
explained to his mother when she saw the new captive.

"I'm not sure that you don't deserve a little punishment, for you
knew it was wrong to go far away from the rest."

"Nan took me," began Rob, willing to enjoy the novel penalty, but
not willing to take the blame.

"You needn't have gone. You have got a conscience, though you
are a little boy, and you must learn to mind it."

"Well, my conscience didn't prick me a bit when she said 'Let's get
over the wall,' " answered Rob, quoting one of Demi's expressions.

"Did you stop to see if it did?"

"No."

"Then you cannot tell."

"I guess it's such a little conscience that it don't prick hard enough
for me to feel it," added Rob, after thinking the matter over for a
minute.

"We must sharpen it up. It's bad to have a dull conscience; so you
may stay here till dinner-time, and talk about it with Nan. I trust
you both not to untie yourselves till I say the word."

"No, we won't," said both, feeling a certain sense of virtue in
helping to punish themselves.

For an hour they were very good, then they grew tired of one room,
and longed to get out. Never had the hall seemed so inviting; even
the little bedroom acquired a sudden interest, and they would
gladly have gone in and played tent with the curtains of the best
bed. The open windows drove them wild because they could not
reach them; and the outer world seemed so beautiful, they
wondered how they ever found the heart to say it was dull. Nan
pined for a race round the lawn, and Rob remembered with dismay
that he had not fed his dog that morning, and wondered what poor
Pollux would do. They watched the clock, and Nan did some nice
calculations in minutes and seconds, while Rob learned to tell all
the hours between eight and one so well that he never forgot them.
It was maddening to smell the dinner, to know that there was to be
succotash and huckleberry pudding, and to feel that they would not
be on the spot to secure good helps of both. When Mary Ann
began to set the table, they nearly cut themselves in two trying to
see what meat there was to be; and Nan offered to help her make
the beds, if she would only see that she had "lots of sauce on her
pudding."

When the boys came bursting out of school, they found the
children tugging at their halters like a pair of restive little colts,
and were much edified, as well as amused, by the sequel to the
exciting adventures of the night.

"Untie me now, Marmar; my conscience will prick like a pin next
time, I know it will," said Rob, as the bell rang, and Teddy came to
look at him with sorrowful surprise.

"We shall see," answered his mother, setting him free. He took a
good run down the hall, back through the dining-room, and
brought up beside Nan, quite beaming with virtuous satisfaction.

"I'll bring her dinner to her, may I?" he asked, pitying his
fellow-captive.

"That's my kind little son! Yes, pull out the table, and get a chair;"
and Mrs. Jo hurried away to quell the ardor of the others, who
were always in a raging state of hunger at noon.

Nan ate alone, and spent a long afternoon attached to the sofa.
Mrs. Bhaer lengthened her bonds so that she could look out of the
window; and there she stood watching the boys play, and all the
little summer creatures enjoying their liberty. Daisy had a picnic
for the dolls on the lawn, so that Nan might see the fun if she could
not join in it. Tommy turned his best somersaults to console her;
Demi sat on the steps reading aloud to himself, which amused Nan
a good deal; and Dan brought a little tree-toad to show her as the
most delicate attention in his power.

But nothing atoned for the loss of freedom; and a few hours of
confinement taught Nan how precious it was. A good many
thoughts went through the little head that lay on the window-sill
during the last quiet hour when all the children went to the brook
to see Emil's new ship launched. She was to have christened it, and
had depended on smashing a tiny bottle of currant-wine over the
prow as it was named Josephine in honor of Mrs. Bhaer. Now she
had lost her chance, and Daisy wouldn't do it half so well. Tears
rose to her eyes as she remembered that it was all her own fault;
and she said aloud, addressing a fat bee who was rolling about in
the yellow heart of a rose just under the window,

"If you have run away, you'd better go right home, and tell your
mother you are sorry, and never do so any more."

"I am glad to hear you give him such good advice, and I think he
has taken it," said Mrs. Jo, smiling, as the bee spread his dusty
wings and flew away.

Nan brushed off a bright drop or two that shone on the
window-sill, and nestled against her friend as she took her on her
knee, adding kindly for she had seen the little drops, and knew
what they meant

"Do you think my mother's cure for running away a good one?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Nan, quite subdued by her quiet day.

"I hope I shall not have to try it again."

"I guess not;" and Nan looked up with such an earnest little face
that Mrs. Jo felt satisfied, and said no more, for she liked to have
her penalties do their own work, and did not spoil the effect by too
much moralizing.

Here Rob appeared, bearing with infinite care what Asia called a
"sarcer pie," meaning one baked in a saucer.

"It's made out of some of my berries, and I'm going to give you half
at supper-time," he announced with a flourish.

"What makes you, when I'm so naughty?" asked Nan, meekly.

"Because we got lost together. You ain't going to be naughty again,
are you?"

"Never," said Nan, with great decision.

"Oh, goody! now let's go and get Mary Ann to cut this for us all
ready to eat; it's 'most tea time;" and Rob beckoned with the
delicious little pie.

Nan started to follow, then stopped, and said,

"I forgot, I can't go."

"Try and see," said Mrs. Bhaer, who had quietly untied the cord
sash while she had been talking.

Nan saw that she was free, and with one tempestuous kiss to Mrs.
Jo, she was off like a humming-bird, followed by Robby, dribbling
huckleberry juice as he ran.

CHAPTER XIII GOLDILOCKS

After the last excitement peace descended upon Plumfield and
reigned unbroken for several weeks, for the elder boys felt that the
loss of Nan and Rob lay at their door, and all became so paternal
in their care that they were rather wearying; while the little ones
listened to Nan's recital of her perils so many times, that they
regarded being lost as the greatest ill humanity was heir to, and
hardly dared to put their little noses outside the great gate lest
night should suddenly descend upon them, and ghostly black cows
come looming through the dusk.

"It is too good to last," said Mrs. Jo; for years of boy-culture had
taught her that such lulls were usually followed by outbreaks of
some sort, and when less wise women would have thought that the
boys had become confirmed saints, she prepared herself for a
sudden eruption of the domestic volcano.

One cause of this welcome calm was a visit from little Bess,
whose parents lent her for a week while they were away with
Grandpa Laurence, who was poorly. The boys regarded Goldilocks
as a mixture of child, angel, and fairy, for she was a lovely little
creature, and the golden hair which she inherited from her blonde
mamma enveloped her like a shining veil, behind which she
smiled upon her worshippers when gracious, and hid herself when
offended. Her father would not have it cut and it hung below her
waist, so soft and fine and bright, that Demi insisted that it was
silk spun from a cocoon. Every one praised the little Princess, but
it did not seem to do her harm, only to teach her that her presence
brought sunshine, her smiles made answering smiles on other
faces, and her baby griefs filled every heart with tenderest
sympathy.

Unconsciously, she did her young subjects more good than many a
real sovereign, for her rule was very gentle and her power was felt
rather than seen. Her natural refinement made her dainty in all
things, and had a good effect upon the careless lads about her. She
would let no one touch her roughly or with unclean hands, and
more soap was used during her visits than at any other time,
because the boys considered it the highest honor to be allowed to
carry her highness, and the deepest disgrace to be repulsed with
the disdainful command, "Do away, dirty boy!"

Lour voices displeased her and quarrelling frightened her; so
gentler tones came into the boyish voices as they addressed her,
and squabbles were promptly suppressed in her presence by
lookers-on if the principles could not restrain themselves. She
liked to be waited on, and the biggest boys did her little errands
without a murmur, while the small lads were her devoted slaves in
all things. They begged to be allowed to draw her carriage, bear
her berry-basket, or pass her plate at table. No service was too
humble, and Tommy and Ned came to blows before they could
decide which should have the honor of blacking her little boots.

Nan was especially benefited by a week in the society of a
well-bred lady, though such a very small one; for Bess would look
at her with a mixture of wonder and alarm in her great blue eyes
when the hoyden screamed and romped; and she shrunk from her
as if she thought her a sort of wild animal. Warm-hearted Nan felt
this very much. She said at first, "Pooh! I don't care!" But she did
care, and was so hurt when Bess said, "I love my tuzzin best, tause
she is twiet," that she shook poor Daisy till her teeth chattered in
her head, and then fled to the barn to cry dismally. In that general
refuge for perturbed spirits she found comfort and good counsel
from some source or other. Perhaps the swallows from their
mud-built nests overhead twittered her a little lecture on the beauty
of gentleness. However that might have been, she came out quite
subdued, and carefully searched the orchard for a certain kind of
early apple that Bess liked because it was sweet and small and
rosy. Armed with this peace-offering, she approached the little
Princess, and humbly presented it. To her great joy it was
graciously accepted, and when Daisy gave Nan a forgiving kiss,
Bess did likewise, as if she felt that she had been too severe, and
desired to apologize. After this they played pleasantly together,
and Nan enjoyed the royal favor for days. To be sure she felt a
little like a wild bird in a pretty cage at first, and occasionally had
to slip out to stretch her wings in a long flight, or to sing at the top
of her voice, where neither would disturb the plump turtle-dove
Daisy, nor the dainty golden canary Bess. But it did her good; for,
seeing how every one loved the little Princess for her small graces
and virtues, she began to imitate her, because Nan wanted much
love, and tried hard to win it.

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