HARVEST TIME
For a year Jo and her Professor worked and waited,
hoped and loved, met occasionally, and wrote such
voluminous letters that the rise in the price of paper
was accounted for, Laurie said. The second year
began rather soberly, for their prospects did not
brighten, and Aunt March died suddenly. But when
their first sorrow was over—for they loved
the old lady in spite of her sharp tongue—they
found they had cause for rejoicing, for she had left
Plumfield to Jo, which made all sorts of joyful things
possible.
“It’s a fine old place, and will bring
a handsome sum, for of course you intend to sell it,”
said Laurie, as they were all talking the matter over
some weeks later.
“No, I don’t,” was Jo’s decided
answer, as she petted the fat poodle, whom she had
adopted, out of respect to his former mistress.
“You don’t mean to live there?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But, my dear girl, it’s an immense house,
and will take a power of money to keep it in order.
The garden and orchard alone need two or three men,
and farming isn’t in Bhaer’s line, I take
it.”
“He’ll try his hand at it there, if I
propose it.”
“And you expect to live on the produce of the
place? Well, that sounds paradisiacal, but you’ll
find it desperate hard work.”
“The crop we are going to raise is a profitable
one,” and Jo laughed.
“Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma’am?”
“Boys. I want to open a school for little
lads—a good, happy, homelike school, with
me to take care of them and Fritz to teach them.”
“That’s a truly Joian plan for you!
Isn’t that just like her?” cried Laurie,
appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised
as he.
“I like it,” said Mrs. March decidedly.
“So do I,” added her husband, who welcomed
the thought of a chance for trying the Socratic method
of education on modern youth.
“It will be an immense care for Jo,” said
Meg, stroking the head of her one all-absorbing son.
“Jo can do it, and be happy in it. It’s
a splendid idea. Tell us all about it,”
cried Mr. Laurence, who had been longing to lend the
lovers a hand, but knew that they would refuse his
help.
“I knew you’d stand by me, sir.
Amy does too—I see it in her eyes, though
she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before
she speaks. Now, my dear people,” continued
Jo earnestly, “just understand that this isn’t
a new idea of mine, but a long cherished plan.
Before my Fritz came, I used to think how, when I’d
made my fortune, and no one needed me at home, I’d
hire a big house, and pick up some poor, forlorn little
lads who hadn’t any mothers, and take care of
them, and make life jolly for them before it was too
late. I see so many going to ruin for want of
help at the right minute, I love so to do anything
for them, I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize
with their troubles, and oh, I should so like to be
a mother to them!”
