“Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red,
and he was very polite, and I had a delicious redowa
with him.”
“He looked like a grasshopper in a fit when
he did the new step. Laurie and I couldn’t
help laughing. Did you hear us?”
“No, but it was very rude. What were you
about all that time, hidden away there?”
Jo told her adventures, and by the time she had finished
they were at home. With many thanks, they said
good night and crept in, hoping to disturb no one,
but the instant their door creaked, two little nightcaps
bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cried out
. . .
“Tell about the party! Tell about the
party!”
With what Meg called ‘a great want of manners’
Jo had saved some bonbons for the little girls, and
they soon subsided, after hearing the most thrilling
events of the evening.
“I declare, it really seems like being a fine
young lady, to come home from the party in a carriage
and sit in my dressing gown with a maid to wait on
me,” said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot with
arnica and brushed her hair.
“I don’t believe fine young ladies enjoy
themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our
burned hair, old gowns, one glove apiece and tight
slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough
to wear them.” And I think Jo was quite
right.
BURDENS
“Oh, dear, how hard it does seem to take up
our packs and go on,” sighed Meg the morning
after the party, for now the holidays were over, the
week of merrymaking did not fit her for going on easily
with the task she never liked.
“I wish it was Christmas or New Year’s
all the time. Wouldn’t it be fun?”
answered Jo, yawning dismally.
“We shouldn’t enjoy ourselves half so
much as we do now. But it does seem so nice to
have little suppers and bouquets, and go to parties,
and drive home, and read and rest, and not work.
It’s like other people, you know, and I always
envy girls who do such things, I’m so fond of
luxury,” said Meg, trying to decide which of
two shabby gowns was the least shabby.
“Well, we can’t have it, so don’t
let us grumble but shoulder our bundles and trudge
along as cheerfully as Marmee does. I’m
sure Aunt March is a regular Old Man of the Sea to
me, but I suppose when I’ve learned to carry
her without complaining, she will tumble off, or get
so light that I shan’t mind her.”
This idea tickled Jo’s fancy and put her in
good spirits, but Meg didn’t brighten, for her
burden, consisting of four spoiled children, seemed
heavier than ever. She had not heart enough even
to make herself pretty as usual by putting on a blue
neck ribbon and dressing her hair in the most becoming
way.
“Where’s the use of looking nice, when
no one sees me but those cross midgets, and no one
cares whether I’m pretty or not?” she
muttered, shutting her drawer with a jerk. “I
shall have to toil and moil all my days, with only
little bits of fun now and then, and get old and ugly
and sour, because I’m poor and can’t enjoy
my life as other girls do. It’s a shame!”
