“Why, you know I don’t mind hard jobs much,and there must always be one scrub in a family.Amy is splendid in fine works and I’m not,but I feel in my element when all the carpets are to be taken up,or half the family fall sick at once.Amy is distinguishing herself abroad,but if anything is amiss at home, I’m your man.”
“I leave Beth to your hands, then,for she will open her tender little heart to her Jo sooner than to anyone else.Be very kind, and don’t let her think anyone watches or talks about her.If she only would get quite strong and cheerful again,I shouldn’t have a wish in the world.”
“Happy woman!I’ve got heaps.”
“My dear, what are they?”
“I’ll settle Bethy’s troubles,and then I’ll tell you mine. They are not very wearing,so they’ll keep.” and Jo stitched away,with a wise nod which set her mother’s heart at rest about her for the present at least.
While apparently absorbed in her own affairs,Jo watched Beth, and after many conflicting conjectures,finally settled upon one which seemed to explain the change in her.A slight incident gave Jo the clue to the mystery,she thought, and lively fancy,loving heart did the rest.She was affecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon,when she and Beth were alone together.Yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on her sister,who seemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window,Beth’s work often dropped into her lap,and she leaned her head upon her hand,in a dejected attitude,while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal landscape.Suddenly some one passed below,whistling like an operatic blackbird,and a voice called out, “All serene!Coming in tonight.”
Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded,watched the passer-by till his quick tramp died away,then said softly as if to herself,“How strong and well and happy that dear boy looks.”
“Hum!” said Jo, still intent upon her sister’s face,for the bright color faded as quickly as it came,the smile vanished,and presently a tear lay shining on the window ledge.Beth whisked it off,and in her half-averted face read a tender sorrow that made her own eyes fill.Fearing to betray herself, she slipped away,murmuring something about needing more paper.
“Mercy on me, Beth loves Laurie!” she said, sitting down in her own room,pale with the shock of the discovery which she believed she had just made.“I never dreamed of such a thing. What will Mother say?I wonder if her...” there Jo stopped and turned scarlet with a sudden thought.“If he shouldn’t love back again,how dreadful it would be. He must. I’ll make him!” and she shook her head threateningly at the picture of the mischievous-looking boy laughing at her from the wall. “Oh dear, we are growing up with a vengeance. Here’s Meg married and a mamma, Amy flourishing away at Paris, and Beth in love. I’m the only one that has sense enough to keep out of mischief.” Jo thought intently for a minute with her eyes fixed on the picture, then she smoothed out her wrinkled forehead and said, with a decided nod at the face opposite, “No thank you, sir, you’re very charming, but you’ve no more stability than a weathercock. So you needn’t write touching notes and smile in that insinuating way, for it won’t do a bit of good, and I won’t have it.”
Then she sighed, and fell into a reverie from which she did not wake till the early twilight sent her down to take new observations, which only confirmed her suspicion. Though Laurie flirted with Amy and joked with Jo, his manner to Beth had always been peculiarly kind and gentle, but so was everybody’s. Therefore, no one thought of imagining that he cared more for her than for the others. Indeed, a general impression had prevailed in the family of late that ‘our boy’ was getting fonder than ever of Jo, who, however, wouldn’t hear a word upon the subject and scolded violently if anyone dared to suggest it. If they had known the various tender passages which had been nipped in the bud, they would have had the immense satisfaction of saying, “I told you so.” But Jo hated ‘philandering’, and wouldn’t allow it, always having a joke or a smile ready at the least sign of impending danger.
When Laurie first went to college,he fell in love about once a month,but these small flames were as brief as ardent,did no damage, and much amused Jo,who took great interest in the alternations of hope,despair, and resignation,which were confided to her in their weekly conferences.But there came a time when Laurie ceased to worship at many shrines,hinted darkly at one all-absorbing passion,and indulged occasionally in Byronic fits of gloom.Then he avoided the tender subject altogether,wrote philosophical notes to Jo, turned studious,and gave out that he was going to ‘dig’,intending to graduate in a blaze of glory.This suited the young lady better than twilight confidences,tender pressures of the hand,and eloquent glances of the eye, for with Jo,brain developed earlier than heart,and she preferred imaginary heroes to real ones,because when tired of them,the former could be shut up in the tin kitchen till called for,and the latter were less manageable.
Things were in this state when the grand discovery was made,and Jo watched Laurie that night as she had never done before.If she had not got the new idea into her head,she would have seen nothing unusual in the fact that Beth was very quiet,and Laurie very kind to her.But having given the rein to her lively fancy,it galloped away with her at a great pace,and common sense, being rather weakened by a long course of romance writing,did not come to the rescue.As usual Beth lay on the sofa and Laurie sat in a low chair close by,amusing her with all sorts of gossip,for she depended on her weekly ‘spin’,and he never disappointed her.But that evening Jo fancied that Beth’s eyes rested on the lively,dark face beside her with peculiar pleasure,and that she listened with intense interest to an account of some exciting cricket match, though the phrases, ‘caught off a tice’, ‘stumped off his ground’, and ‘the leg hit for three’, were as intelligible to her as Sanskrit. She also fancied, having set her heart upon seeing it, that she saw a certain increase of gentleness in Laurie’s manner, that he dropped his voice now and then, laughed less than usual, was a little absent-minded, and settled the afghan over Beth’s feet with an assiduity that was really almost tender.
“Who knows?Stranger things have happened,” thought Jo,as she fussed about the room.“She will make quite an angel of him,and he will make life delightfully easy and pleasant for the dear,if they only love each other.I don’t see how he can help it,and I do believe he would if the rest of us were out of the way. ”
As everyone was out of the way but herself,Jo began to feel that she ought to dispose of herself with all speed.But where should she go?And burning to lay herself upon the shrine of sisterly devotion,she sat down to settle that point.
Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa—long,broad, well-cushioned, and low, a trifle shabby,as well it might be,for the girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies,fished over the back, rode on the arms,and had menageries under it as children,and rested tired heads, dreamed dreams,and listened to tender talk on it as young women.They all loved it, for it was a family refuge,and one corner had always been Jo’s favorite lounging place.Among the many pillows that adorned the venerable couch was one,hard, round, covered with prickly horsehair,and furnished with a knobby button at each end.This repulsive pillow was her especial property,being used as a weapon of defense, a barricade,or a stern preventive of too much slumber.