Маленькие женщины / Little Women. Уровень 3. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

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СКАЧАТЬ all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, and when I come back I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.”

      Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Amy hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, “I am a selfish girl! But I'll truly try to be better.”

      “We all will,” cried Meg. “I think too much of my looks and hate to work, but won't any more, if I can help it.”

      “I'll try and be what he loves to call me, ‘a little woman' and not be rough and wild, but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else,” said Jo.

      Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears and began to knit.

      Chapter two

      A Merry Christmas

      Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. She remembered her mother's promise and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She woke Meg with a “Merry Christmas,” and made her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared. Beth and Amy woke up and found their little books also, one dove-colored, the other blue.

      “Girls,” said Meg seriously, “Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once.”

      Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also.

      “How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let's do as they do. I'll help you with the hard words, and they'll explain things if we don't understand,” whispered Beth.

      And then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned.

      “Where is Mother?” asked Meg, half an hour later.

      “Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came a-beggin', and your ma went straight off to see what was needed,” replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant.

      “She will be back soon, I think, so fry your cakes, and have everything ready,” said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a basket

      “There's Mother. Hide the basket, quick!” cried Jo, as a door slammed and steps sounded in the hall.

      “Merry Christmas, Marmee! Thank you for our books. We read some, and mean to every day,” they all cried in chorus.

      Mrs. March was both surprised and touched, and smiled as she examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy's cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a perfect fit.

      The rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities. Being still too young to go often to the theater, and not rich enough to afford private performances, the girls put their wits to work, and made whatever they needed to put on a play.

      This Christmas night, a dozen girls piled onto the bed which was the dress circle, and sat before the blue and yellow curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp smoke, and an occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the operatic tragedy about love and magic began.

      When the performance was finished, applause followed. The excitement had hardly subsided when Hannah appeared, with “Mrs. March's compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper.”

      This was a surprise, and when they saw the table, they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. There was ice cream, actually two dishes of it, pink and white, and cake and fruit and distracting French bonbons and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot house flowers.

      It quite took their breath away, and they stared first at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely.

      “Is it fairies?” asked Amy.

      “Santa Claus,” said Beth.

      “Mother did it.” And Meg smiled her sweetest.

      “Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper,” cried Jo, with a sudden inspiration.

      “All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it,” replied Mrs. March. “He is an odd old gentleman. He knew my father years ago, and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse.”

      “That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He's a capital fellow, and I wish we could get acquainted,” said Jo, as the plates went round. “Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence. Then he saw Meg coming, and walked off. I mean to know him some day, for he needs fun, I'm sure he does,” said Jo decidedly.

      “I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman. He brought the flowers himself.”

      “We'll have another play sometime that he can see. Perhaps he'll help act. Wouldn't that be jolly?”

      Chapter three

      The Laurence boy

      “Jo! Jo! Where are you?” cried Meg at the foot of the stairs.

      “Here!” answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on a sofa.

      “A note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for tomorrow night!” cried Meg, waving the precious paper and then proceeding to read it with girlish delight.

      “‘Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New Year's Eve.' Marmee is willing we should go, now what shall we wear?”

      “What's the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins, because we haven't got anything else?” answered Jo with her mouth full.

      “If I only had a silk!” sighed Meg. “Mother says I may when I'm eighteen perhaps.”

      “I'm sure our pops look like silk. Yours is as good as new.”

      “I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, and Marmee will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and my gloves will do, though they aren't as nice as I'd like.”

      “Mine are spoiled with lemonade, and I can't get any new ones, so I shall have to go without,” said Jo, who never troubled herself much about dress.

      “You must have gloves, or I won't go,” cried Meg decidedly. “Gloves are more important than anything else. You can't dance without them, and if you don't I should be so mortified.”

      “Then I'll stay still. I don't care much for company dancing.”

      “You can't ask Mother for new ones, they are so expensive. Can't you make them do?”

      “I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will know how stained they are. I'll go without. I don't care what people say!” cried Jo, taking up her book. СКАЧАТЬ