When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance
a jig, by way of expressing her satisfaction, Amy
nearly fell out of the window in her surprise, and
Meg exclaimed, with up-lifted hands, “Well,
I do believe the world is coming to an end.”
AMY’S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION
“That boy is a perfect cyclops, isn’t
he?” said Amy one day, as Laurie clattered by
on horseback, with a flourish of his whip as he passed.
“How dare you say so, when he’s got both
his eyes? And very handsome ones they are, too,”
cried Jo, who resented any slighting remarks about
her friend.
“I didn’t say anything about his eyes,
and I don’t see why you need fire up when I
admire his riding.”
“Oh, my goodness! That little goose means
a centaur, and she called him a Cyclops,” exclaimed
Jo, with a burst of laughter.
“You needn’t be so rude, it’s only
a ‘lapse of lingy’, as Mr. Davis says,”
retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin. “I
just wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends
on that horse,” she added, as if to herself,
yet hoping her sisters would hear.
“Why?” asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone
off in another laugh at Amy’s second blunder.
“I need it so much. I’m dreadfully
in debt, and it won’t be my turn to have the
rag money for a month.”
“In debt, Amy? What do you mean?”
And Meg looked sober.
“Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes,
and I can’t pay them, you know, till I have
money, for Marmee forbade my having anything charged
at the shop.”
“Tell me all about it. Are limes the fashion
now? It used to be pricking bits of rubber to
make balls.” And Meg tried to keep her
countenance, Amy looked so grave and important.
“Why, you see, the girls are always buying them,
and unless you want to be thought mean, you must do
it too. It’s nothing but limes now, for
everyone is sucking them in their desks in schooltime,
and trading them off for pencils, bead rings, paper
dolls, or something else, at recess. If one girl
likes another, she gives her a lime. If she’s
mad with her, she eats one before her face, and doesn’t
offer even a suck. They treat by turns, and
I’ve had ever so many but haven’t returned
them, and I ought for they are debts of honor, you
know.”
“How much will pay them off and restore your
credit?” asked Meg, taking out her purse.
“A quarter would more than do it, and leave
a few cents over for a treat for you. Don’t
you like limes?”
“Not much. You may have my share.
Here’s the money. Make it last as long
as you can, for it isn’t very plenty, you know.”
“Oh, thank you! It must be so nice to
have pocket money! I’ll have a grand feast,
for I haven’t tasted a lime this week.
I felt delicate about taking any, as I couldn’t
return them, and I’m actually suffering for
one.”
