Jo’s Boys

After this addition the house would not contain the gay youngsters, so they migrated to the piazza and settled on the steps, like a flock of night-loving birds. Mr March and the Professor retired to the study, Meg and Amy went to look after the little refection of fruit and cake which was to come, and Mrs Jo and Mr Laurie sat in the long window listening to the chat that went on outside.

‘There they are, the flower of our flock!’ she said, pointing to the group before them. ‘The others are dead or scattered, but these seven boys and four girls are my especial comfort and pride. Counting Alice Heath, my dozen is made up, and my hands are full trying to guide these young lives as far as human skill can do it.’

‘When we remember how different they are, from what some of them came, and the home influences about others, I think we may feel pretty well satisfied so far,’ answered Mr Laurie soberly, as his eyes rested on one bright head among the black and brown ones, for the young moon shone alike on all.

‘I don’t worry about the girls; Meg sees to them, and is so wise and patient and tender they can’t help doing well; but my boys are more care every year, and seem to drift farther away from me each time they go,’ sighed Mrs Jo. ‘They will grow up, and I can only hold them by one little thread, which may snap at any time, as it has with Jack and Ned. Dolly and George still like to come back, and I can say my word to them; and dear old Franz is too true ever to forget his own. But the three who are soon going out into the world again I can’t help worrying about. Emil’s good heart will keep him straight, I hope, and

A sweet little cherub sits up aloft,

To look out for the life of poor Jack.

Nat is to make his first flight, and he’s weak in spite of your strengthening influence; and Dan is still untamed. I fear it will take some hard lesson to do that.’

‘He’s a fine fellow, Jo, and I almost regret this farming project. A little polish would make a gentleman of him, and who knows what he might become here among us,’ answered Mr Laurie, leaning over Mrs Bhaer’s chair, just as he used to do years ago when they had mischievous secrets together.

‘It wouldn’t be safe, Teddy. Work and the free life he loves will make a good man of him, and that is better than any amount of polish, with the dangers an easy life in a city would bring him. We can’t change his nature—only help it to develop in the right direction. The old impulses are there, and must be controlled, or he will go wrong. I see that; but his love for us is a safeguard, and we must keep a hold on him till he is older or has a stronger tie to help him.’

Mrs Jo spoke earnestly, for, knowing Dan better than anyone else, she saw that her colt was not thoroughly broken yet, and feared while she hoped, knowing that life would always be hard for one like him. She was sure that before he went away again, in some quiet moment he would give her a glimpse of his inner self, and then she could say the word of warning or encouragement that he needed. So she bided her time, studying him meanwhile, glad to see all that was promising, and quick to detect the harm the world was doing him. She was very anxious to make a success of her ‘firebrand’ because others predicted failure; but having learned that people cannot be moulded like clay, she contented herself with the hope that this neglected boy might become a good man, and asked no more. Even that was much to expect, so full was he of wayward impulses, strong passions, and the lawless nature born in him. Nothing held him but the one affection of his life—the memory of Plumfield, the fear of disappointing these faithful friends, the pride, stronger than principle, that made him want to keep the regard of the mates who always had admired and loved him in spite of all his faults.

‘Don’t fret, old dear; Emil is one of the happy-go-lucky sort who always fall on their legs. I’ll see to Nat, and Dan is in a good way now. Let him take a look at Kansas, and if the farm plan loses its charm, he can fall back on poor Lo, and really do good out there. He’s unusually fitted for that peculiar task and I hope he’ll decide to do it. Fighting oppressors, and befriending the oppressed will keep those dangerous energies of his busy, and the life will suit him better than sheep-folds and wheat-fields.’

‘I hope so. What is that?’ and Mrs Jo leaned forward to listen, as exclamations from Ted and Josie caught her ear.

‘A mustang! a real, live one; and we can ride it. Dan, you are a first-class trump!’ cried the boy.

‘A whole Indian dress for me! Now I can play Namioka, if the boys act Metamora,’ added Josie, clapping her hands.

‘A buffalo’s head for Bess! Good gracious, Dan, why did you bring such a horrid thing as that to her?’ asked Nan.

‘Thought it would do her good to model something strong and natural. She’ll never amount to anything if she keeps on making namby-pamby gods and pet kittens,’ answered irreverent Dan, remembering that when he was last here Bess was vibrating distractedly between a head of Apollo and her Persian cat as models.

‘Thank you; I’ll try it, and if I fail we can put the buffalo up in the hall to remind us of you,’ said Bess, indignant at the insult offered the gods of her idolatry, but too well bred to show it except in her voice, which was as sweet and as cold as ice-cream.

‘I suppose you won’t come out to see our new settlement when the rest do? Too rough for you?’ asked Dan, trying to assume the deferential air all the boys used when addressing their Princess.

‘I am going to Rome to study for years. All the beauty and art of the world is there, and a lifetime isn’t long enough to enjoy it,’ answered Bess.

‘Rome is a mouldy old tomb compared to the “Garden of the gods” and my magnificent Rockies. I don’t care a hang for art; nature is as much as I can stand, and I guess I could show you things that would knock your old masters higher than kites. Better come, and while Josie rides the horses you can model ’em. If a drove of a hundred or so of wild ones can’t show you beauty, I’ll give up,’ cried Dan, waxing enthusiastic over the wild grace and vigour which he could enjoy but had no power to describe.

‘I’ll come some day with papa, and see if they are better than the horses of St Mark and those on Capitol Hill. Please don’t abuse my gods, and I will try to like yours,’ said Bess, beginning to think the West might be worth seeing, though no Raphael or Angelo had yet appeared there.

‘That’s a bargain! I do think people ought to see their own country before they go scooting off to foreign parts, as if the new world wasn’t worth discovering,’ began Dan, ready to bury the hatchet.

‘It has some advantages, but not all. The women of England can vote, and we can’t. I’m ashamed of America that she isn’t ahead in all good things,’ cried Nan, who held advanced views on all reforms, and was anxious about her rights, having had to fight for some of them.

‘Oh, please don’t begin on that. People always quarrel over that question, and call names, and never agree. Do let us be quiet and happy tonight,’ pleaded Daisy, who hated discussion as much as Nan loved it.

‘You shall vote as much as you like in our new town, Nan; be mayor and aldermen, and run the whole concern. It’s going to be as free as air, or I can’t live in it,’ said Dan, adding, with a laugh, ‘I see Mrs Giddygaddy and Mrs Shakespeare Smith don’t agree any better than they used to.’

‘If everyone agreed, we should never get on. Daisy is a dear, but inclined to be an old fogy; so I stir her up; and next fall she will go and vote with me. Demi will escort us to do the one thing we are allowed to do as yet.’

‘Will you take ’em, Deacon?’ asked Dan, using the old name as if he liked it. ‘It works capitally in Wyoming.’

‘I shall be proud to do it. Mother and the aunts go every year, and Daisy will come with me. She is my better half still; and I don’t mean to leave her behind in anything,’ said Demi, with an arm round his sister of whom he was fonder than ever.

Dan looked at them wistfully, thinking how sweet it must be to have such a tie; and his lonely youth seemed sadder than ever as he recalled its struggles. A gusty sigh from Tom made sentiment impossible, as he said pensively:

‘I always wanted to be a twin. It’s so sociable and so cosy to have someone glad to lean on a fellow and comfort him, if other girls are cruel.’

As Tom’s unrequited passion was the standing joke of the family, this allusion produced a laugh, which Nan increased by whipping out a bottle of Nux, saying, with her professional air:

‘I knew you ate too much lobster for tea. Take four pellets, and your dyspepsia will be all right. Tom always sighs and is silly when he’s overeaten.’

‘I’ll take ’em. These are the only sweet things you ever give me.’ And Tom gloomily crunched his dose.

‘“Who can minister to a mind diseased, or pluck out a rooted sorrow?”’ quoted Josie tragically from her perch on the railing.

‘Come with me, Tommy, and I’ll make a man of you. Drop your pills and powders, and cavort round the world a spell, and you’ll soon forget you’ve got a heart, or a stomach either,’ said Dan, offering his one panacea for all ills.

‘Ship with me, Tom. A good fit of seasickness will set you up, and a stiff north-easter blow your blue-devils away. Come along as surgeon—easy berth, and no end of larks.’

‘“And if your Nancy frowns, my lad,

And scorns a jacket blue,

Just hoist your sails for other ports,

And find a maid more true.”’

added Emil, who had a fragment of song to cheer every care and sorrow, and freely offered them to his friends.

‘Perhaps I’ll think of it when I’ve got my diploma. I’m not going to grind three mortal years and have nothing to show for it. Till then—’

‘I’ll never desert Mrs Micawber,’ interrupted Teddy, with a gurgling sob.

Tom immediately rolled him off the step into the wet grass below; and by the time this slight skirmish was over, the jingle of teaspoons suggested refreshments of a more agreeable sort. In former times the little girls waited on the boys, to save confusion; now the young men flew to serve the ladies, young and old; and that slight fact showed plainly how the tables were turned by time. And what a pleasant arrangement it was! Even Josie sat still, and let Emil bring her berries; enjoying her young lady-hood, till Ted stole her cake, when she forgot manners, and chastised him with a rap on the knuckles. As guest of honour, Dan was only allowed to wait on Bess, who still held the highest place in this small world. Tom carefully selected the best of everything for Nan, to be crushed by the remark:

‘I never eat at this hour; and you will have a nightmare if you do.’

So, dutifully curbing the pangs of hunger, he gave the plate to Daisy, and chewed rose-leaves for his supper.

When a surprising quantity of wholesome nourishment had been consumed, someone said, ‘Let’s sing!’ and a tuneful hour followed. Nat fiddled, Demi piped, Dan strummed the old banjo, and Emil warbled a doleful ballad about the wreck of the Bounding Betsey; then everybody joined in the old songs till there was very decidedly ‘music in the air’; and passers-by said, as they listened smiling: ‘Old Plum is gay tonight!’

When all had gone Dan lingered on the piazza, enjoying the balmy wind that blew up from the hayfields, and brought the breath of flowers from Parnassus; and as he leaned there romantically in the moonlight, Mrs Jo came to shut the door.

‘Dreaming dreams, Dan?’ she asked, thinking the tender moment might have come. Imagine the shock when, instead of some interesting confidence or affectionate word, Dan swung round, saying bluntly:

‘I was wishing I could smoke.’

Mrs Jo laughed at the downfall of her hopes, and answered kindly:

‘You may, in your room; but don’t set the house afire.’

Perhaps Dan saw a little disappointment in her face, or the memory of the sequel of that boyish frolic touched his heart; for he stooped and kissed her, saying in a whisper: ‘Good night, mother.’ And Mrs Jo was half satisfied.

CHAPTER 5

Vacation

Everyone was glad of a holiday next morning, and all lingered over the breakfast-table, till Mrs Jo suddenly exclaimed:

‘Why, there’s a dog!’ And on the threshold of the door appeared a great deer-hound, standing motionless, with his eyes fixed on Dan.

‘Hallo, old boy! Couldn’t you wait till I came for you? Have you cut away on the sly? Own up now, and take your whipping like a man,’ said Dan, rising to meet the dog, who reared on his hind legs to look his master in the face and bark as if uttering an indignant denial of any disobedience.

‘All right; Don never lies.’ And Dan gave the tall beast a hug, adding as he glanced out of the window, where a man and horse were seen approaching:

‘I left my plunder at the hotel over night, not knowing how I should find you. Come out and see Octoo, my mustang; she’s a beauty.’ And Dan was off, with the family streaming after him, to welcome the newcomer.

They found her preparing to go up the steps in her eagerness to reach her master, to the great dismay of the man, who was holding her back.

‘Let her come,’ called Dan; ‘she climbs like a cat and jumps like a deer. Well, my girl, do you want a gallop?’ he asked, as the pretty creature clattered up to him and whinnied with pleasure as he rubbed her nose and slapped her glossy flank.

‘That’s what I call a horse worth having,’ said Ted, full of admiration and delight; for he was to have the care of her during Dan’s absence.

‘What intelligent eyes! She looks as if she would speak,’ said Mrs Jo.

‘She talks like a human in her way. Very little that she don’t know. Hey, old Lass?’ and Dan laid his cheek to hers as if the little black mare was very dear to him.

‘What does “Octoo” mean?’ asked Rob.

‘Lightning; she deserves it, as you’ll see. Black Hawk gave her to me for my rifle, and we’ve had high times together out yonder. She’s saved my life more than once. Do you see that scar?’

Dan pointed to a small one, half hidden by the long mane; and standing with his arm about Octoo’s neck, he told the story of it.

‘Black Hawk and I were after buffalo one time, but didn’t find ’em as soon as we expected; so our food gave out, and there we were a hundred miles from Red Deer River, where our camp was. I thought we were done for, but my brave pal says: “Now I’ll show you how we can live till we find the herds.” We were unsaddling for the night by a little pond; there wasn’t a living creature in sight anywhere, not even a bird, and we could see for miles over the prairies. What do you think we did?’ And Dan looked into the faces round him.

‘Ate worms like the Australian fellows,’ said Rob.

‘Boiled grass or leaves,’ added Mrs Jo.

‘Perhaps filled the stomach with clay, as we read of savages doing?’ suggested Mr Bhaer.

‘Killed one of the horses,’ cried Ted, eager for bloodshed of some sort.

‘No; but we bled one of them. See, just here; filled a tin cup, put some wild sage leaves in it, with water, and heated it over a fire of sticks. It was good, and we slept well.’

‘I guess Octoo didn’t.’ And Josie patted the animal, with a face full of sympathy.

‘Never minded it a bit. Black Hawk said we could live on the horses several days and still travel before they felt it. But by another morning we found the buffalo, and I shot the one whose head is in my box, ready to hang up and scare brats into fits. He’s a fierce old fellow, you bet.’

‘What is this strap for?’ asked Ted, who was busily examining the Indian saddle, the single rein and snaffle, with lariat, and round the neck the leather band he spoke of.

‘We hold on to that when we lie along the horse’s flank farthest from the enemy, and fire under the neck as we gallop round and round. I’ll show you.’ And springing into the saddle, Dan was off down the steps, tearing over the lawn at a great pace, sometimes on Octoo’s back, sometimes half hidden as he hung by stirrup and strap, and sometimes off altogether, running beside her as she loped along, enjoying the fun immensely; while Don raced after, in a canine rapture at being free again and with his mates.

It was a fine sight—the three wild things at play, so full of vigour, grace, and freedom, that for the moment the smooth lawn seemed a prairie; and the spectators felt as if this glimpse of another life made their own seem rather tame and colourless.

‘This is better than a circus!’ cried Mrs Jo, wishing she were a girl again, that she might take a gallop on this chained lightning of a horse. ‘I foresee that Nan will have her hands full setting bones, for Ted will break every one of his trying to rival Dan.’

‘A few falls will not harm, and this new care and pleasure will be good for him in all ways. But I fear Dan will never follow a plough after riding a Pegasus like that,’ answered Mr Bhaer, as the black mare leaped the gate and came flying up the avenue, to stop at a word and stand quivering with excitement, while Dan swung himself off and looked up for applause.

He received plenty of it, and seemed more pleased for his pet’s sake than for his own. Ted clamoured for a lesson at once, and was soon at ease in the queer saddle, finding Octoo gentle as a lamb, as he trotted away to show off at college. Bess came hastening down the hill, having seen the race from afar; and all collected on the piazza while Dan ‘yanked’ the cover off the big box the express had ‘dumped’ before the door—to borrow his own words.

Dan usually travelled in light marching order, and hated to have more luggage than he could carry in his well-worn valise. But now that he had a little money of his own, he had cumbered himself with a collection of trophies won by his bow and spear, and brought them home to bestow upon his friends.

‘We shall be devoured with moths,’ thought Mrs Jo, as the shaggy head appeared, followed by a wolf-skin rug for her feet, a bear-skin ditto for the Professor’s study, and Indian garments bedecked with foxes’ tails for the boys.

All nice and warm for a July day, but received with delight nevertheless. Ted and Josie immediately ‘dressed up’, learned the war-whoop, and proceeded to astonish their friends by a series of skirmishes about the house and grounds, with tomahawks and bows and arrows, till weariness produced a lull.

Gay birds’ wings, plumy pampas grass, strings of wampum, and pretty work in beads, bark, and feathers, pleased the girls. Minerals, arrow-heads, and crude sketches interested the Professor; and when the box was empty, Dan gave Mr Laurie, as his gift, several plaintive Indian songs written on birch-bark.

‘We only want a tent over us to be quite perfect. I feel as if I ought to give you parched corn and dried meat for dinner, my braves. Nobody will want lamb and green peas after this splendid pow-wow,’ said Mrs Jo, surveying the picturesque confusion of the long hall, where people lay about on the rugs, all more or less bedecked with feathers, moccasins, or beads.

‘Moose noses, buffalo tongues, bear steaks, and roasted marrow-bones would be the thing, but I don’t mind a change; so bring on your baa-baa and green meat,’ answered Dan from the box, where he sat in state like a chief among his tribe, with the great hound at his feet.

The girls began to clear up, but made little headway; for everything they touched had a story, and all were thrilling, comical, or wild; so they found it hard to settle to their work, till Dan was carried off by Mr Laurie.

This was the beginning of the summer holiday, and it was curious to see what a pleasant little stir Dan’s and Emil’s coming made in the quiet life of the studious community; for they seemed to bring a fresh breeze with them that enlivened everyone. Many of the collegians remained during vacation; and Plumfield and Parnassus did their best to make these days pleasant for them, since most came from distant States, were poor, and had few opportunities but this for culture or amusement. Emil was hail-fellow-well-met with men and maids, and went rollicking about in true sailor fashion; but Dan stood rather in awe of the ‘fair girl-graduates’, and was silent when among them, eyeing them as an eagle might a flock of doves. He got on better with the young men, and was their hero at once. Their admiration for his manly accomplishments did him good; because he felt his educational defects keenly, and often wondered if he could find anything in books to satisfy him as thoroughly as did the lessons he was learning from Nature’s splendidly illustrated volume. In spite of his silence, the girls found out his good qualities, and regarded ‘the Spaniard’, as they named him, with great favour; for his black eyes were more eloquent than his tongue, and the kind creatures tried to show their friendly interests in many charming ways.

He saw this, and endeavoured to be worthy of it—curbing his free speech, toning down his rough manners, and watching the effect of all he said and did, anxious to make a good impression. The social atmosphere warmed his lonely heart, the culture excited him to do his best, and the changes which had taken place during his absence, both in himself and others, made the old home seem like a new world. After the life in California, it was sweet and restful to be here, with these familiar faces round him, helping him to forget much that he regretted, and to resolve to deserve more entirely the confidence of these good fellows, the respect of these innocent girls.

So there was riding, rowing, and picnicking by day, music, dancing, and plays by night; and everyone said there had not been so gay a vacation for years. Bess kept her promise, and let the dust gather on her beloved clay while she went pleasuring with her mates or studied music with her father, who rejoiced over the fresh roses in her cheeks and the laughter which chased away the dreamy look she used to wear. Josie quarrelled less with Ted; for Dan had a way of looking at her which quelled her instantly, and had almost as good an effect upon her rebellious cousin. But Octoo did even more for the lively youth, who found that her charms entirely eclipsed those of the bicycle which had been his heart’s delight before. Early and late he rode this untiring beast, and began to gain flesh—to the great joy of his mother, who feared that her beanstalk was growing too fast for health.

Demi, finding business dull, solaced his leisure by photographing everybody he could induce to sit or stand to him, producing some excellent pictures among many failures; for he had a pretty taste in grouping, and endless patience. He might be said to view the world through the lens of his camera, and seemed to enjoy himself very much squinting at his fellow beings from under a bit of black cambric. Dan was a treasure to him; for he took well, and willingly posed in his Mexican costume, with horse and hound, and all wanted copies of these effective photographs. Bess, also, was a favourite sitter; and Demi received a prize at the Amateur Photographic Exhibition for one of his cousin with all her hair about her face, which rose from the cloud of white lace draping the shoulders. These were freely handed round by the proud artist; and one copy had a tender little history yet to be told.

Nat was snatching every minute he could get with Daisy before the long parting; and Mrs Meg relented somewhat, feeling sure that absence would quite cure this unfortunate fancy. Daisy said little; but her gentle face was sad when she was alone, and a few quiet tears dropped on the handkerchiefs she marked so daintily with her own hair. She was sure Nat would not forget her; and life looked rather forlorn without the dear fellow who had been her friend since the days of patty-pans and confidences in the willow-tree. She was an old-fashioned daughter, dutiful and docile, with such love and reverence for her mother that her will was law; and if love was forbidden, friendship must suffice. So she kept her little sorrow to herself, smiled cheerfully at Nat, and made his last days of home-life very happy with every comfort and pleasure she could give, from sensible advice and sweet words to a well-filled work-bag for his bachelor establishment and a box of goodies for the voyage.