The short afternoon wore away. All other errands were done,and Meg and her mother busy at some necessary needlework, while Beth and Amy got tea,and Hannah finished her ironing with what she called a ‘slap and a bang’,but still Jo did not come. They began to get anxious, and Laurie went off to find her,for no one knew what freak Jo might take into her head. He missed her, however,and she came walking in with a very queer expression of countenance,for there was a mixture of fun and fear, satisfaction and regret in it,which puzzled the family as much as did the roll of bills she laid before her mother,saying with a little choke in her voice,“That’s my contribution toward making Father comfortable and bringing him home!”
“My dear, where did you get it?Twenty-five dollars!Jo, I hope you haven’t done anything rash?”
“No, it’s mine honestly. I didn’t beg, borrow, or steal it. I earned it,and I don’t think you’ll blame me, for I only sold what was my own.”
As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose,for all her abundant hair was cut short.
“Your hair!Your beautiful hair!” “Oh, Jo, how could you?Your one beauty.” “My dear girl, there was no need of this.” “She doesn’t look like my Jo any more, but I love her dearly for it!”
As everyone exclaimed, and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, Jo assumed an indifferent air,which did not deceive anyone a particle, and said,rumpling up the brown bush and trying to look as if she liked it,“It doesn’t affect the fate of the nation, so don’t wail, Beth. It will be good for my vanity,I was getting too proud of my wig. It will do my brains good to have that mop taken off.My head feels deliciously light and cool, and the barber said I could soon have a curly crop,which will be boyish, becoming, and easy to keep in order. I’m satisfied,so please take the money and let’s have supper.”
“Tell me all about it, Jo. I am not quite satisfied, but I can’t blame you,for I know how willingly you sacrificed your vanity, as you call it, to your love. But, my dear,it was not necessary, and I’m afraid you will regret it one of these days,” said Mrs. March.
“No, I won’t!” returned Jo stoutly, feeling much relieved that her prank was not entirely condemned.
“What made you do it?” asked Amy, who would as soon have thought of cutting off her head as her pretty hair.
“Well, I was wild to do something for Father,” replied Jo, as they gathered about the table,for healthy young people can eat even in the midst of trouble.“I hate to borrow as much as Mother does, and I knew Aunt March would croak, she always does,if you ask for a ninepence. Meg gave all her quarterly salary toward the rent,and I only got some clothes with mine, so I felt wicked, and was bound to have some money,if I sold the nose off my face to get it.”
“You needn’t feel wicked, my child!You had no winter things and got the simplest with your own hard earnings,” said Mrs.March with a look that warmed Jo’s heart.
“I hadn’t the least idea of selling my hair at first,but as I went along I kept thinking what I could do,and feeling as if I’d like to dive into some of the rich stores and help myself.In a barber’s window I saw tails of hair with the prices marked, and one black tail,not so thick as mine, was forty dollars.It came to me all of a sudden that I had one thing to make money out of,and without stopping to think, I walked in, asked if they bought hair, and what they would give for mine.”
“I don’t see how you dared to do it,” said Beth in a tone of awe.
“Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil his hair.He rather stared at first, as if he wasn’t used to having girls bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair.He said he didn’t care about mine, it wasn’t the fashionable color,and he never paid much for it in the first place. The work put into it made it dear, and so on.It was getting late, and I was afraid if it wasn’t done right away that I shouldn’t have it done at all,and you know when I start to do a thing, I hate to give it up. So I begged him to take it,and told him why I was in such a hurry. It was silly, I dare say, but it changed his mind,for I got rather excited, and told the story in my topsy-turvy way, and his wife heard,and said so kindly, ‘Take it, Thomas, and oblige the young lady.I’d do as much for our Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling.”
“Who was Jimmy?” asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as they went along.
“Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such things make strangers feel, don’t they?She talked away all the time the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely.”
“Didn’t you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?” asked Meg, with a shiver.
“I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it.I never snivel over trifles like that. I will confess, though,I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table,and felt only the short rough ends of my head. It almost seemed as if I’d an arm or leg off.The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I’ll give it to you,Marmee, just to remember past glories by,for a crop is so comfortable I don’t think I shall ever have a mane again.”
Mrs. March folded the wavy chestnut lock, and laid it away with a short gray one in her desk.She only said, “Thank you, deary,” but something in her face made the girls change the subject,and talk as cheerfully as they could about Mr. Brooke’s kindness,the prospect of a fine day tomorrow, and the happy times they would have when Father came home to be nursed.
No one wanted to go to bed when at ten o’clock Mrs. March put by the last finished job, and said,“Come girls.” Beth went to the piano and played the father’s favorite hymn. All began bravely,but broke down one by one till Beth was left alone, singing with all her heart,for to her music was always a sweet consoler.
“Go to bed and don’t talk, for we must be up early and shall need all the sleep we can get.Good night, my darlings,” said Mrs. March, as the hymn ended, for no one cared to try another.
They kissed her quietly, and went to bed as silently as if the dear invalid lay in the next room.Beth and Amy soon fell asleep in spite of the great trouble, but Meg lay awake,thinking the most serious thoughts she had ever known in her short life. Jo lay motionless,and her sister fancied that she was asleep, till a stifled sob made her exclaim, as she touched a wet cheek...
“Jo, dear, what is it?Are you crying about father?”
“No, not now.”
“What then?”
“My... My hair!” burst out poor Jo, trying vainly to smother her emotion in the pillow.
It did not seem at all comical to Meg, who kissed and caressed the afflicted heroine in the tenderest manner.
“I’m not sorry,” protested Jo, with a choke. “I’d do it again tomorrow, if I could.It’s only the vain part of me that goes and cries in this silly way. Don’t tell anyone,it’s all over now. I thought you were asleep,so I just made a little private moan for my one beauty. How came you to be awake?”
“I can’t sleep, I’m so anxious,” said Meg.
“Think about something pleasant, and you’ll soon drop off.”
“I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever.”
“What did you think of?”
“Handsome faces—eyes particularly,” answered Meg, smiling to herself in the dark.
“What color do you like best?”
“Brown, that is, sometimes. Blue are lovely.”
Jo laughed, and Meg sharply ordered her not to talk, then amiably promised to make her hair curl,and fell asleep to dream of living in her castle in the air.
The clocks were striking midnight and the rooms were very still as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed,smoothing a coverlet here, settling a pillow there,and pausing to look long and tenderly at each unconscious face,to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed,and to pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter.As she lifted the curtain to look out into the dreary night,the moon broke suddenly from behind the clouds and shone upon her like a bright, benignant face,which seemed to whisper in the silence, “Be comforted, dear soul!There is always light behind the clouds.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN LETTERS
In the cold gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp and read their chapter with an earnestness never felt before.For now the shadow of a real trouble had come, the little books were full of help and comfort,and as they dressed, they agreed to say goodbye cheerfully and hopefully,and send their mother on her anxious journey unsaddened by tears or complaints from them.Everything seemed very strange when they went down, so dim and still outside,so full of light and bustle within. Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd,and even Hannah’s familiar face looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen with her nightcap on.The big trunk stood ready in the hall, Mother’s cloak and bonnet lay on the sofa,and Mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so pale and worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it very hard to keep their resolution.Meg’s eyes kept filling in spite of herself,Jo was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more than once,and the little girls wore a grave, troubled expression, as if sorrow was a new experience to them.
Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near and they sat waiting for the carriage, Mrs.March said to the girls, who were all busied about her, one folding her shawl,another smoothing out the strings of her bonnet, a third putting on her overshoes,and a fourth fastening up her travelling bag...
“Children, I leave you to Hannah’s care and Mr. Laurence’s protection.Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbor will guard you as if you were his own.I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you should take this trouble rightly.Don’t grieve and fret when I am gone, or think that you can be idle and comfort yourselves by being idle and trying to forget.Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace. Hope and keep busy,and whatever happens, remember that you never can be fatherless.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Meg, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, consult Hannah, and in any perplexity, go to Mr.Laurence. Be patient, Jo, don’t get despondent or do rash things, write to me often,and be my brave girl, ready to help and cheer all. Beth, comfort yourself with your music,and be faithful to the little home duties, and you, Amy, help all you can, be obedient, and keep happy safe at home.”
“We will, Mother!We will!”
The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen. That was the hard minute,but the girls stood it well. No one cried, no one ran away or uttered a lamentation,though their hearts were very heavy as they sent loving messages to Father, remembering,as they spoke that it might be too late to deliver them. They kissed their mother quietly,clung about her tenderly, and tried to wave their hands cheerfully when she drove away.
Laurie and his grandfather came over to see her off, and Mr.Brooke looked so strong and sensible and kind that the girls christened him ‘Mr. Greatheart’ on the spot.
“Good-by, my darlings!God bless and keep us all!” whispered Mrs. March, as she kissed one dear little face after the other, and hurried into the carriage.
As she rolled away, the sun came out, and looking back,she saw it shining on the group at the gate like a good omen. They saw it also,and smiled and waved their hands, and the last thing she beheld as she turned the corner was the four bright faces,and behind them like a bodyguard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful Hannah, and devoted Laurie.
“How kind everyone is to us!” she said, turning to find fresh proof of it in the respectful sympathy of the young man’s face.
“I don’t see how they can help it,” returned Mr. Brooke, laughing so infectiously that Mrs.March could not help smiling. And so the journey began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful words.
“I feel as if there had been an earthquake,” said Jo, as their neighbors went home to breakfast,leaving them to rest and refresh themselves.
“It seems as if half the house was gone,” added Meg forlornly.
Beth opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile of nicely mended hose which lay on Mother’s table,showing that even in her last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them.It was a little thing, but it went straight to their hearts,and in spite of their brave resolutions, they all broke down and cried bitterly.
Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings,and when the shower showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with a coffeepot.
“Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don’t fret.Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let’s fall to work and be a credit to the family. ”
Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that morning.No one could resist her persuasive nods,or the fragrant invitation issuing from the nose of the coffee pot. They drew up to the table,exchanged their handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes were all right again.
“‘Hope and keep busy’, that’s the motto for us, so let’s see who will remember it best.I shall go to Aunt March, as usual. Oh, won’t she lecture though!” said Jo, as she sipped with returning spirit.
“I shall go to my Kings, though I’d much rather stay at home and attend to things here,” said Meg,wishing she hadn’t made her eyes so red.
“No need of that. Beth and I can keep house perfectly well,” put in Amy, with an important air.
“Hannah will tell us what to do, and we’ll have everything nice when you come home,” added Beth,getting out her mop and dish tub without delay.
“I think anxiety is very interesting,” observed Amy, eating sugar pensively.
The girls couldn’t help laughing, and felt better for it,though Meg shook her head at the young lady who could find consolation in a sugar bowl.
The sight of the turnovers made Jo sober again; and when the two went out to their daily tasks,they looked sorrowfully back at the window where they were accustomed to see their mother’s face.It was gone, but Beth had remembered the little household ceremony, and there she was,nodding away at them like a rosyfaced mandarin.
“That’s so like my Beth!” said Jo, waving her hat, with a grateful face. “Goodbye, Meggy,I hope the Kings won’t strain today. Don’t fret about Father, dear,” she added, as they parted.
“And I hope Aunt March won’t croak. Your hair is becoming, and it looks very boyish and nice,” returned Meg, trying not to smile at the curly head,which looked comically small on her tall sister’s shoulders.
“That’s my only comfort.” And, touching her hat a la Laurie, away went Jo,feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day.
News from their father comforted the girls very much, for though dangerously ill,the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had already done him good. Mr.Brooke sent a bulletin every day, and as the head of the family,Meg insisted on reading the dispatches, which grew more cheerful as the week passed. At first,everyone was eager to write, and plump envelopes were carefully poked into the letter box by one or other of the sisters,who felt rather important with their Washington correspondence.As one of these packets contained characteristic notes from the party,we will rob an imaginary mail, and read them.
My dearest Mother:
It is impossible to tell you how happy your last letter made us,for the news was so good we couldn’t help laughing and crying over it. How very kind Mr. Brooke is,and how fortunate that Mr. Laurence’s business detains him near you so long,since he is so useful to you and Father. The girls are all as good as gold.Jo helps me with the sewing, and insists on doing all sorts of hard jobs.I should be afraid she might overdo, if I didn’t know her ‘moral fit’ wouldn’t last long.Beth is as regular about her tasks as a clock, and never forgets what you told her.She grieves about Father, and looks sober except when she is at her little piano.Amy minds me nicely, and I take great care of her. She does her own hair,and I am teaching her to make buttonholes and mend her stockings. She tries very hard,and I know you will be pleased with her improvement when you come. Mr.Laurence watches over us like a motherly old hen, as Jo says,and Laurie is very kind and neighborly. He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue sometimes,and feel like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint. She does not scold at all,and always calls me Miss Margaret, which is quite proper, you know, and treats me with respect.We are all well and busy, but we long, day and night, to have you back.Give my dearest love to Father, and believe me, ever your own...
MEG
This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to the next,which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper,ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed letters.
My precious Marmee:
Three cheers for dear Father!Brooke was a trump to telegraph right off, and let us know the minute he was better.I rushed up garret when the letter came, and tried to thank God for being so good to us,but I could only cry, and say, “I’m glad!I’m glad!” Didn’t that do as well as a regular prayer?For I felt a great many in my heart. We have such funny times, and now I can enjoy them,for everyone is so desperately good, it’s like living in a nest of turtledoves.You’d laugh to see Meg head the table and try to be motherish. She gets prettier every day,and I’m in love with her sometimes. The children are regular archangels, and I—well, I’m Jo,and never shall be anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came near having a quarrel with Laurie.I freed my mind about a silly little thing, and he was offended. I was right,but didn’t speak as I ought, and he marched home,saying he wouldn’t come again till I begged pardon. I declared I wouldn’t and got mad.It lasted all day. I felt bad and wanted you very much. Laurie and I are both so proud,it’s hard to beg pardon. But I thought he’d come to it, for I was in the right. He didn’t come,and just at night I remembered what you said when Amy fell into the river. I read my little book,felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on my anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry.I met him at the gate, coming for the same thing. We both laughed, begged each other’s pardon,and felt all good and comfortable again.
I made a ‘pome’ yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash,and as Father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him.Give him my lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your...
TOPSY-TURVY JO
A SONG FROM THE SUDS
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing, While the white foam rises high,And sturdily wash and rinse and wring, And fasten the clothes to dry.Then out in the free fresh air they swing, Under the sunny sky.
I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls The stains of the week away,And let water and air by their magic make Ourselves as pure as they.Then on the earth there would be indeed, A glorious washing day!
Along the path of a useful life, Will heart’s-ease ever bloom.The busy mind has no time to think Of sorrow or care or gloom.And anxious thoughts may be swept away, As we bravely wield a broom.
I am glad a task to me is given, To labor at day by day,For it brings me health and strength and hope, And I cheerfully learn to say, “Head, you may think,Heart, you may feel, But, Hand, you shall work alway!”
Dear Mother,
There is only room for me to send my love,and some pressed pansies from the root I have been keeping safe in the house for Father to see.I read every morning, try to be good all day, and sing myself to sleep with Father’s tune.I can’t sing ‘LAND OF THE LEAL’ now, it makes me cry. Everyone is very kind,and we are as happy as we can be without you. Amy wants the rest of the page, so I must stop.I didn’t forget to cover the holders, and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day.
Kiss dear Father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your loving...
LITTLE BETH
Ma Chere Mamma,
We are all well I do my lessons always and never corroberate the girls—Meg says I mean contradick so I put in both words and you can take the properest.Meg is a great comfort to me and lets me have jelly every night at tea its so good for me Jo says because it keeps me sweet tempered.Laurie is not as respeckful as he ought to be now I am almost in my teens,he calls me Chick and hurts my feelings by talking French to me very fast when I say Merci or Bon jour as Hattie King does.The sleeves of my blue dress were all worn out, and Meg put in new ones,but the full front came wrong and they are more blue than the dress.I felt bad but did not fret I bear my troubles well but I do wish Hannah would put more starch in my aprons and have buckwheats every day. Can’t she?Didn’t I make that interrigation point nice?Meg says my punchtuation and spelling are disgraceful and I am mortyfied but dear me I have so many things to do,I can’t stop. Adieu, I send heaps of love to Papa. Your affectionate daughter...
AMY CURTIS MARCH
Dear Mis March,
I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is clever and fly round right smart.Miss Meg is going to make a proper good housekeeper. She hes the liking for it,and gits the hang of things surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all for goin ahead,but she don’t stop to cal’k’late fust, and you never know where she’s like to bring up.She done out a tub of clothes on Monday, but she starched ’em afore they was wrenched,and blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should a died a laughin.Beth is the best of little creeters, and a sight of help to me, bein so forehanded and dependable.She tries to learn everything, and really goes to market beyond her years, likewise keeps accounts,with my help, quite wonderful. We have got on very economical so fur.I don’t let the girls hev coffee only once a week, accordin to your wish,and keep em on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does well without frettin,wearin her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff. Mr. Laurie is as full of didoes as usual,and turns the house upside down frequent, but he heartens the girls, so I let em hev full swing.The old gentleman sends heaps of things, and is rather wearin, but means wal,and it aint my place to say nothin. My bread is riz, so no more at this time. I send my duty to Mr.March, and hope he’s seen the last of his Pewmonia.
Yours respectful, Hannah Mullet
Head Nurse of Ward No. 2,
All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition, commisary department well conducted,the Home Guard under Colonel Teddy always on duty,Commander in Chief General Laurence reviews the army daily,Quartermaster Mullet keeps order in camp, and Major Lion does picket duty at night.A salute of twenty-four guns was fired on receipt of good news from Washington,and a dress parade took place at headquarters. Commander in chief sends best wishes, in which he is heartily joined by...
COLONEL TEDDY
Dear Madam:
The little girls are all well. Beth and my boy report daily. Hannah is a model servant,and guards pretty Meg like a dragon. Glad the fine weather holds. Pray make Brooke useful,and draw on me for funds if expenses exceed your estimate. Don’t let your husband want anything. Thank God he is mending.
Your sincere friend and servant, JAMES LAURENCE
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN LITTLE FAITHFUL
For a week the amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied the neighborhood.It was really amazing, for everyone seemed in a heavenly frame of mind,and self-denial was all the fashion. Relieved of their first anxiety about their father,the girls insensibly relaxed their praiseworthy efforts a little,and began to fall back into old ways. They did not forget their motto,but hoping and keeping busy seemed to grow easier, and after such tremendous exertions,they felt that Endeavor deserved a holiday, and gave it a good many.
Jo caught a bad cold through neglect to cover the shorn head enough,and was ordered to stay at home till she was better,for Aunt March didn’t like to hear people read with colds in their heads. Jo liked this,and after an energetic rummage from garret to cellar,subsided on the sofa to nurse her cold with arsenicum and books.Amy found that housework and art did not go well together, and returned to her mud pies.Meg went daily to her pupils, and sewed, or thought she did, at home,but much time was spent in writing long letters to her mother,or reading the Washington dispatches over and over. Beth kept on,with only slight relapses into idleness or grieving.
All the little duties were faithfully done each day, and many of her sisters’ also,for they were forgetful, and the house seemed like a clock whose pendulum was gone a-visiting.When her heart got heavy with longings for Mother or fears for Father,she went away into a certain closet, hid her face in the folds of a dear old gown,and made her little moan and prayed her little prayer quietly by herself.Nobody knew what cheered her up after a sober fit,but everyone felt how sweet and helpful Beth was,and fell into a way of going to her for comfort or advice in their small affairs.
All were unconscious that this experience was a test of character,and when the first excitement was over, felt that they had done well and deserved praise.So they did, but their mistake was in ceasing to do well,and they learned this lesson through much anxiety and regret.
“Meg, I wish you’d go and see the Hummels. You know Mother told us not to forget them.” said Beth, ten days after Mrs. March’s departure.
“I’m too tired to go this afternoon,” replied Meg, rocking comfortably as she sewed.
“Can’t you, Jo?” asked Beth.
“Too stormy for me with my cold.”
“I thought it was almost well.”
“It’s well enough for me to go out with Laurie, but not well enough to go to the Hummels’,” said Jo,laughing, but looking a little ashamed of her inconsistency.
“Why don’t you go yourself?” asked Meg.
“I have been every day, but the baby is sick, and I don’t know what to do for it. Mrs.Hummel goes away to work, and Lottchen takes care of it. But it gets sicker and sicker, and I think you or Hannah ought to go.”
Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go tomorrow.
“Ask Hannah for some nice little mess, and take it round, Beth, the air will do you good,” said Jo,adding apologetically, “I’d go but I want to finish my writing.”
“My head aches and I’m tired, so I thought maybe some of you would go,” said Beth.
“Amy will be in presently, and she will run down for us,” suggested Meg.
So Beth lay down on the sofa, the others returned to their work, and the Hummels were forgotten.An hour passed. Amy did not come, Meg went to her room to try on a new dress,Jo was absorbed in her story, and Hannah was sound asleep before the kitchen fire,when Beth quietly put on her hood, filled her basket with odds and ends for the poor children,and went out into the chilly air with a heavy head and a grieved look in her patient eyes.It was late when she came back, and no one saw her creep upstairs and shut herself into her mother’s room.Half an hour after, Jo went to ‘Mother’s closet’ for something,and there found little Beth sitting on the medicine chest, looking very grave,with red eyes and a camphor bottle in her hand.
“Christopher Columbus!What’s the matter?” cried Jo, as Beth put out her hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly. . .
“You’ve had the scarlet fever, haven’t you?”
“Years ago, when Meg did. Why?”
“Then I’ll tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby’s dead!”
“What baby?”
“Mrs. Hummel’s. It died in my lap before she got home,” cried Beth with a sob.
“My poor dear, how dreadful for you!I ought to have gone,” said Jo, taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother’s big chair, with a remorseful face.
“It wasn’t dreadful, Jo, only so sad!I saw in a minute it was sicker, but Lottchen said her mother had gone for a doctor,so I took Baby and let Lotty rest. It seemed asleep,but all of a sudden if gave a little cry and trembled, and then lay very still.I tried to warm its feet, and Lotty gave it some milk, but it didn’t stir, and I knew it was dead.”
“Don’t cry, dear!What did you do?”
“I just sat and held it softly till Mrs. Hummel came with the doctor. He said it was dead,and looked at Heinrich and Minna, who have sore throats. ‘Scarlet fever, ma’am.Ought to have called me before,’ he said crossly. Mrs. Hummel told him she was poor,and had tried to cure baby herself, but now it was too late,and she could only ask him to help the others and trust to charity for his pay. He smiled then,and was kinder, but it was very sad, and I cried with them till he turned round all of a sudden,and told me to go home and take belladonna right away, or I’d have the fever.”
“No, you won’t!” cried Jo, hugging her close, with a frightened look. “Oh, Beth,if you should be sick I never could forgive myself!What shall we do?”
“Don’t be frightened, I guess I shan’t have it badly. I looked in Mother’s book,and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat, and queer feelings like mine,so I did take some belladonna, and I feel better,” said Beth,laying her cold hands on her hot forehead and trying to look well.
“If Mother was only at home!” exclaimed Jo, seizing the book, and feeling that Washington was an immense way off.She read a page, looked at Beth, felt her head, peeped into her throat, and then said gravely,“You’ve been over the baby every day for more than a week,and among the others who are going to have it, so I’m afraid you are going to have it, Beth.I’ll call Hannah, she knows all about sickness.”