Little Women. Good Wives. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

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СКАЧАТЬ old Jo! She came in looking as if bears were after her,” said Beth, as she cuddled her sister's feet with a motherly air.

      “Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?” observed Amy, tasting her mixture critically.

      “She means vampire, not seaweed; but it doesn't matter; it's too warm to be particular about one's parts of speech,” murmured Jo.

      “What shall you do all your vacation?” asked Amy, changing the subject, with tact.

      “I shall lie abed late, and do nothing,” replied Meg, from the depths of the rocking chair. “I've been routed up early all winter, and had to spend my days working for other people; so now I'm going to rest and revel to my heart's content.”

      “No,” said Jo; “that dozy way wouldn't suit me. I've laid in a heap of books, and I'm going to improve my shining hours reading on my perch in the old apple tree, when I'm not having l-”

      “Don't say 'larks!'” implored Amy, as a return snub for the “samphire” correction.

      “I'll say 'nightingales,' then, with Laurie; that's proper and appropriate, since he's a warbler.”

      “Don't let us do any lessons, Beth, for a while, but play all the time, and rest, as the girls mean to,” proposed Amy.

      “Well, I will, if mother doesn't mind. I want to learn some new songs, and my children need fitting up for the summer; they are dreadfully out of order, and really suffering for clothes.”

      “May we, mother?” asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing, in what they called “Marmee's corner.'”

      “You may try your experiment for a week, and see how you like it. I think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as bad as all work and no play.”

      “Oh, dear, no! It will be delicious, I'm sure,” said Meg complacently.

      “I now propose a toast, as my 'friend and pardner, Sairy Gamp,' says. Fun forever, and no grubbing!” cried Jo, rising, glass in hand, as the lemonade went round.

      They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging for the rest of the day. Next morning, Meg did not appear till ten o'clock; her solitary breakfast did not taste nice, and the room seemed lonely and untidy; for Jo had not filled the vases, Beth had not dusted, and Amy's books lay scattered about. Nothing was neat and pleasant but “Marmee's corner,” which looked as usual; and there Meg sat, to 'rest and read,' which meant yawn, and imagine what pretty summer dresses she would get with her salary. Jo spent the morning on the river, with Laurie, and the afternoon reading and crying over The Wide, Wide World, up in the apple tree. Beth began by rummaging everything out of the big closet, where her family resided; but, getting tired before half done, she left her establishment topsy-turvy, and went to her music, rejoicing that she had no dishes to wash. Amy arranged her bower, put on her best white frock, smoothed her curls, and sat down to draw, under the honeysuckle, hoping someone would see and inquire who the young artist was. As no one appeared but an inquisitive daddy-long-legs, who examined her work with interest, she went to walk, got caught in a shower, and came home dripping.

      At teatime they compared notes, and all agreed that it had been a delightful, though unusually long day. Meg, who went shopping in the afternoon, and got a “sweet blue muslin,” had discovered, after she had cut the breadths off, that it wouldn't wash, which mishap made her slightly cross. Jo had burned the skin off her nose boating, and got a raging headache by reading too long. Beth was worried by the confusion of her closet, and the difficulty of learning three or four songs at once; and Amy deeply regretted the damage done her frock, for Katy Brown's party was to be the next day; and now like Flora McFlimsey, she had “nothing to wear.” But these were mere trifles; and they assured their mother that the experiment was working finely. She smiled, said nothing, and, with Hannah's help, did their neglected work, keeping home pleasant, and the domestic machinery running smoothly. It was astonishing what a peculiar and uncomfortable state of things was produced by the “resting and reveling” process. The days kept getting longer and longer; the weather was unusually variable, and so were tempers; an unsettled feeling possessed everyone, and Satan found plenty of mischief for the idle hands to do. As the height of luxury, Meg put out some of her sewing, and then found time hang so heavily that she fell to snipping and spoiling her clothes, in her attempts to furbish them up à la Moffat. Jo read till her eyes gave out, and she was sick of books; got so fidgety that even good-natured Laurie had a quarrel with her, and so reduced in spirits that she desperately wished she had gone with Aunt March. Beth got on pretty well, for she was constantly forgetting that it was to be all play, and no work, and fell back into her old ways now and then; but something in the air affected her, and, more than once, her tranquility was much disturbed; so much so, that, on one occasion, she actually shook poor dear Joanna, and told her she was “a fright.” Amy fared worst of all, for her resources were small; and when her sisters left her to amuse herself, she soon found that accomplished and important little self a great burden. She didn't like dolls, fairy tales were childish, and one couldn't draw all the time; tea parties didn't amount to much, neither did picnics, unless very well conducted. “If one could have a fine house, full of nice girls, or go traveling, the summer would be delightful; but to stay at home with three selfish sisters and a grown-up boy was enough to try the patience of a Boaz,” complained Miss Malaprop, after several days devoted to pleasure, fretting, and ennui.

      No one would own that they were tired of the experiment; but, by Friday night, each acknowledged to herself that she was glad the week was nearly done. Hoping to impress the lesson more deeply, Mrs. March, who had a good deal of humor, resolved to finish off the trial in an appropriate manner; so she gave Hannah a holiday, and let the girls enjoy the full effect of the play system.

      When they got up on Saturday morning, there was no fire in the kitchen, no breakfast in the dining room, and no mother anywhere to be seen.

      “Mercy on us! what has happened?” cried Jo, staring about her in dismay.

      Meg ran upstairs, and soon came back again, looking relieved but rather bewildered, and a little ashamed.

      “Mother isn't sick, only very tired, and she says she is going to stay quietly in her room all day, and let us do the best we can. It's a very queer thing for her to do, she doesn't act a bit like herself; but she says it has been a hard week for her, so we mustn't grumble, but take care of ourselves.”

      “That's easy enough, and I like the idea; I'm aching for something to do – that is, some new amusement, you know,” added Jo quickly.

      In fact it was an immense relief to them all to have a little work, and they took hold with a will, but soon realized the truth of Hannah's saying, “Housekeeping ain't no joke.” There was plenty of food in the larder, and, while Beth and Amy set the table, Meg and Jo got breakfast, wondering, as they did why servants ever talked about hard work.

      “I shall take some up to mother, though she said we were not to think of her, for she'd take care of herself,” said Meg, who presided, and felt quite matronly behind the teapot.

      So a tray was fitted out before anyone began, and taken up, with the cook's compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelet scorched, and the biscuits speckled with saleratus; but Mrs. March received her repast with thanks, and laughed heartily over it after Jo was gone.

      “Poor little souls, they will have a hard time, I'm afraid; but they won't suffer, and it will do them good,” she said, producing the more palatable viands with which she had provided herself, and disposing of the bad breakfast, so that their feelings might not be hurt, – a motherly little deception, for which they were grateful.

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