The March family had enjoyed a great many surprises in the course oftheir varied1 career, but the greatest of all was when the UglyDuckling turned out to be, not a swan, but a golden goose, whoseliterary eggs found such an unexpected market that in ten years Jo'swildest and most cherished dream actually came true. How or why ithappened she never clearly understood, but all of a sudden she foundherself famous in a small way, and, better still, with a snug3 littlefortune in her pocket to clear away the obstacles of the present andassure the future of her boys.
It began during a bad year when everything went wrong at Plumfield;times were hard, the school dwindled4, Jo overworked herself and had along illness; Laurie and Amy were abroad, and the Bhaers too proud toask help even of those as near and dear as this generous pair.
Confined to her room, Jo got desperate over the state of affairs,till she fell back upon the long-disused pen as the only thing shecould do to help fill up the gaps in the income. A book for girlsbeing wanted by a certain publisher, she hastily scribbled5 a littlestory describing a few scenes and adventures in the lives of herselfand sisters, though boys were more in her line, and with very slighthopes of success sent it out to seek its fortune.
Things always went by contraries with Jo. Her first book, labouredover for years, and launched full of the high hopes and ambitiousdreams of youth, foundered6 on its voyage, though the wreck7 continuedto float long afterward8, to the profit of the publisher at least. Thehastily written story, sent away with no thought beyond the fewdollars it might bring, sailed with a fair wind and a wise pilot atthe helm into public favour, and came home heavily laden9 with anunexpected cargo10 of gold and glory.
A more astonished woman probably never existed than Josephine Bhaerwhen her little ship came into port with flags flying, cannon11 thathad been silent before now booming gaily12, and, better than all, manykind faces rejoicing with her, many friendly hands grasping hers withcordial congratulations. After that it was plain sailing, and shemerely had to load her ships and send them off on prosperous trips,to bring home stores of comfort for all she loved and laboured for.
The fame she never did quite accept; for it takes very little fire tomake a great deal of smoke nowadays, and notoriety is not real glory.
The fortune she could not doubt, and gratefully received; though itwas not half so large a one as a generous world reported it to be.
The tide having turned continued to rise, and floated the familycomfortably into a snug harbour where the older members could restsecure from storms, and whence the younger ones could launch theirboats for the voyage of life.
All manner of happiness, peace, and plenty came in those years tobless the patient waiters, hopeful workers, and devout13 believers inthe wisdom and justice of Him who sends disappointment, poverty, andsorrow to try the love of human hearts and make success the sweeterwhen it comes. The world saw the prosperity, and kind souls rejoicedover the improved fortunes of the family; but the success Jo valuedmost, the happiness that nothing could change or take away, few knewmuch about.
It was the power of making her mother's last years happy and serene;to see the burden of care laid down for ever, the weary hands atrest, the dear face untroubled by any anxiety, and the tender heartfree to pour itself out in the wise charity which was its delight. Asa girl, Jo's favourite plan had been a room where Marmee could sit inpeace and enjoy herself after her hard, heroic life. Now the dreamhad become a happy fact, and Marmee sat in her pleasant chamber14 withevery comfort and luxury about her, loving daughters to wait on heras infirmities increased, a faithful mate to lean upon, andgrand-children to brighten the twilight15 of life with their dutifulaffection. A very precious time to all, for she rejoiced as onlymothers can in the good fortunes of their children. She had lived toreap the harvest she sowed; had seen prayers answered, hopes blossom,good gifts bear fruit, peace and prosperity bless the home she hadmade; and then, like some brave, patient angel, whose work was done,turned her face heavenward, glad to rest.
This was the sweet and sacred side of the change; but it had itsdroll and thorny16 one, as all things have in this curious world ofours. After the first surprise, incredulity, and joy, which came toJo, with the ingratitude17 of human nature, she soon tired of renown,and began to resent her loss of liberty. For suddenly the admiringpublic took possession of her and all her affairs, past, present, andto come. Strangers demanded to look at her, question, advise, warn,congratulate, and drive her out of her wits by well-meant but verywearisome attentions. If she declined to open her heart to them, theyreproached her; if she refused to endow her pet charities, relieveprivate wants, or sympathize with every ill and trial known tohumanity, she was called hard-hearted, selfish, and haughty18; if shefound it impossible to answer the piles of letters sent her, she wasneglectful of her duty to the admiring public; and if she preferredthe privacy of home to the pedestal upon which she was requested topose, 'the airs of literary people' were freely criticized.
She did her best for the children, they being the public for whom shewrote, and laboured stoutly19 to supply the demand always in the mouthsof voracious21 youth--'More stories; more right away!' Her familyobjected to this devotion at their expense, and her health suffered;but for a time she gratefully offered herself up on the altar ofjuvenile literature, feeling that she owed a good deal to the littlefriends in whose sight she had found favour after twenty years ofeffort.
But a time came when her patience gave out; and wearying of being alion, she became a bear in nature as in name, and returning to herden, growled22 awfully23 when ordered out. Her family enjoyed the fun,and had small sympathy with her trials, but Jo came to consider itthe worse scrape of her life; for liberty had always been her dearestpossession, and it seemed to be fast going from her. Living in alantern soon loses its charm, and she was too old, too tired, and toobusy to like it. She felt that she had done all that could reasonablybe required of her when autographs, photographs, and autobiographicalsketches had been sown broadcast over the land; when artists hadtaken her home in all its aspects, and reporters had taken her in thegrim one she always assumed on these trying occasions; when a seriesof enthusiastic boarding-schools had ravaged26 her grounds fortrophies, and a steady stream of amiable29 pilgrims had worn herdoorsteps with their respectful feet; when servants left after aweek's trial of the bell that rang all day; when her husband wasforced to guard her at meals, and the boys to cover her retreat outof back windows on certain occasions when enterprising guests walkedin unannounced at unfortunate moments.
A sketch24 of one day may perhaps explain the state of things, offersome excuse for the unhappy woman, and give a hint to theautograph-fiend now rampant31 in the land; for it is a true tale.
'There ought to be a law to protect unfortunate authors,' said Mrs Joone morning soon after Emil's arrival, when the mail brought her anunusually large and varied assortment32 of letters. 'To me it is a morevital subject than international copyright; for time is money, peaceis health, and I lose both with no return but less respect for myfellow creatures and a wild desire to fly into the wilderness33, sinceI cannot shut my doors even in free America.'
'Lion-hunters are awful when in search of their prey34. If they couldchange places for a while it would do them good; and they'd see whatbores they were when they "do themselves the honour of calling toexpress their admiration35 of our charming work",' quoted Ted2, with abow to his parent, now frowning over twelve requests for autographs.
'I have made up my mind on one point,' said Mrs Jo with greatfirmness. 'I will not answer this kind of letter. I've sent at leastsix to this boy, and he probably sells them. This girl writes from aseminary, and if I send her one all the other girls will at oncewrite for more. All begin by saying they know they intrude36, and thatI am of course annoyed by these requests; but they venture to askbecause I like boys, or they like the books, or it is only one.
Emerson and Whittier put these things in the wastepaper-basket; andthough only a literary nursery-maid who provides moral pap for theyoung, I will follow their illustrious example; for I shall have notime to eat or sleep if I try to satisfy these dear unreasonablechildren'; and Mrs Jo swept away the entire batch37 with a sigh ofrelief.
'I'll open the others and let you eat your breakfast in peace, liebeMutter,' said Rob, who often acted as her secretary. 'Here's one fromthe South'; and breaking an imposing38 seal, he read:
'MADAM, As it has pleased Heaven to bless your effortswith a large fortune, I feel no hesitation39 in asking youto supply funds to purchase a new communion-service forour church. To whatever denomination40 you belong, you willof course respond with liberality to such a request,'Respectfully yours,'MRS X.Y. ZAVIER'
'Send a civil refusal, dear. All I have to give must go to feed andclothe the poor at my gates. That is my thank-offering for success.
Go on,' answered his mother, with a grateful glance about her happyhome.
'A literary youth of eighteen proposes that you put your name to anovel he has written; and after the first edition your name is to betaken off and his put on. There's a cool proposal for you. I guessyou won't agree to that, in spite of your soft-heartedness towardsmost of the young scribblers.'
'Couldn't be done. Tell him so kindly41, and don't let him send themanuscript. I have seven on hand now, and barely time to read myown,' said Mrs Jo, pensively42 fishing a small letter out of theslop-bowl and opening it with care, because the down-hill addresssuggested that a child wrote it.
'I will answer this myself. A little sick girl wants a book, and sheshall have it, but I can't write sequels to all the rest to pleaseher. I should never come to an end if I tried to suit these voraciouslittle Oliver Twists, clamouring for more. What next, Robin43?'
'This is short and sweet.
'DEAR MRS BHAER, I am now going to give you my opinion ofyour works. I have read them all many times, and call themfirst-rate. Please go ahead.
'Your admirer,'BILLY BABCOCK'
'Now that is what I like. Billy is a man of sense and a critic worthhaving, since he had read my works many times before expressing hisopinion. He asks for no answer, so send my thanks and regards.'
'Here's a lady in England with seven girls, and she wishes to knowyour views upon education. Also what careers they shall follow theoldest being twelve. Don't wonder she's worried,' laughed Rob.
'I'll try to answer it. But as I have no girls, my opinion isn'tworth much and will probably shock her, as I shall tell her to letthem run and play and build up good, stout20 bodies before she talksabout careers. They will soon show what they want, if they are letalone, and not all run in the same mould.'
'Here's a fellow who wants to know what sort of a girl he shallmarry, and if you know of any like those in your stories.'
'Give him Nan's address, and see what he'll get,' proposed Ted,privately resolving to do it himself if possible.
'This is from a lady who wants you to adopt her child and lend hermoney to study art abroad for a few years. Better take it, and tryyour hand at a girl, mother.'
'No, thank you, I will keep to my own line of business. What is thatblotted one? It looks rather awful, to judge by the ink,' asked MrsJo, who beguiled45 her daily task by trying to guess from the outsidewhat was inside her many letters. This proved to be a poem from aninsane admirer, to judge by its incoherent style.
'TO J.M.B.
'Oh, were I a heliotrope,I would play poet,And blow a breeze of fragranceTo you; and none should know it.
'Your form like the stately elmWhen Phoebus gilds46 the morning ray;Your cheeks like the ocean bedThat blooms a rose in May.
'Your words are wise and bright,I bequeath them to you a legacy47 given;And when your spirit takes its flight,May it bloom aflower in heaven.
'My tongue in flattering language spoke,And sweeter silence never brokein busiest street or loneliest glen.
I take you with the flashes of my pen.
'Consider the lilies, how they grow;They toil48 not, yet are fair,Gems and flowers and Solomon's seal.
The geranium of the world is J. M. Bhaer.
'JAMES'
While the boys shouted over this effusion--which is a true one--their mother read several liberal offers from budding magazines forher to edit them gratis49; one long letter from a young girlinconsolable because her favourite hero died, and 'would dear MrsBhaer rewrite the tale, and make it end good?' another from an irateboy denied an autograph, who darkly foretold51 financial ruin and lossof favour if she did not send him and all other fellows who askedautographs, photographs, and auto-biographical sketches25; a ministerwished to know her religion; and an undecided maiden52 asked which ofher two lovers she should marry. These samples will suffice to show afew of the claims made on a busy woman's time, and make my readerspardon Mrs Jo if she did not carefully reply to all.
'That job is done. Now I will dust a bit, and then go to my work.
I'm all behind-hand, and serials53 can't wait; so deny me to everybody,Mary. I won't see Queen Victoria if she comes today.' And Mrs Bhaerthrew down her napkin as if defying all creation.
'I hope the day will go well with thee, my dearest,' answered herhusband, who had been busy with his own voluminous correspondence. 'Iwill dine at college with Professor Plock, who is to visit us today.
The Junglings can lunch on Parnassus; so thou shalt have a quiettime.' And smoothing the worried lines out of her forehead with hisgood-bye kiss, the excellent man marched away, both pockets full ofbooks, an old umbrella in one hand, and a bag of stones for thegeology class in the other.
'If all literary women had such thoughtful angels for husbands, theywould live longer and write more. Perhaps that wouldn't be a blessingto the world though, as most of us write too much now,' said Mrs Jo,waving her feather duster to her spouse54, who responded withflourishes of the umbrella as he went down the avenue.
Rob started for school at the same time, looking so much like himwith his books and bag and square shoulders and steady air that hismother laughed as she turned away, saying heartily55: 'Bless both mydear professors, for better creatures never lived!'
Emil was already gone to his ship in the city; but Ted lingered tosteal the address he wanted, ravage27 the sugar-bowl, and talk with'Mum'; for the two had great larks56 together. Mrs Jo always arrangedher own parlour, refilled her vases, and gave the little touches thatleft it cool and neat for the day. Going to draw down the curtain,she beheld57 an artist sketching58 on the lawn, and groaned59 as shehastily retired61 to the back window to shake her duster.
At that moment the bell rang and the sound of wheels was heard in theroad.
'I'll go; Mary lets 'em in'; and Ted smoothed his hair as he made forthe hall.
'Can't see anyone. Give me a chance to fly upstairs,' whispered MrsJo, preparing to escape. But before she could do so, a man appearedat the door with a card in his hand. Ted met him with a stern air,and his mother dodged63 behind the window-curtains to bide64 her time forescape.
'I am doing a series of articles for the Saturday Tattler, and Icalled to see Mrs Bhaer the first of all,' began the newcomer in theinsinuating tone of his tribe, while his quick eyes were taking inall they could, experience having taught him to make the most of histime, as his visits were usually short ones.
'Mrs Bhaer never sees reporters, sir.'
'But a few moments will be all I ask,' said the man, edging his wayfarther in.
'You can't see her, for she is out,' replied Teddy, as a backwardglance showed him that his unhappy parent had vanished--through thewindow, he supposed, as she sometimes did when hard bestead.
'Very sorry. I'll call again. Is this her study? Charming room!' Andthe intruder fell back on the parlour, bound to see something and baga fact if he died in the attempt. 'It is not,' said Teddy, gently butfirmly backing him down the hall, devoutly65 hoping that his mother hadescaped round the corner of the house.
'If you could tell me Mrs Bhaer's age and birthplace, date ofmarriage, and number of children, I should be much obliged,'
continued the unabashed visitor as he tripped over the door-mat.
'She is about sixty, born in Nova Zembla, married just forty yearsago today, and has eleven daughters. Anything else, sir?' And Ted'ssober face was such a funny contrast to his ridiculous reply that thereporter owned himself routed, and retired laughing just as a ladyfollowed by three beaming girls came up the steps.
'We are all the way from Oshkosh, and couldn't go home without seein'
dear Aunt Jo. My girls just admire her works, and lot on gettin' asight of her. I know it's early; but we are goin' to see Holmes andLongfeller, and the rest of the celebrities66, so we ran out here fustthing. Mrs Erastus Kingsbury Parmalee, of Oshkosh, tell her. We don'tmind waitin'; we can look round a spell if she ain't ready to seefolks yet.'
All this was uttered with such rapidity that Ted could only standgazing at the buxom67 damsels, who fixed68 their six blue eyes upon himso beseechingly69 that his native gallantry made it impossible to denythem a civil reply at least.
'Mrs Bhaer is not visible today--out just now, I believe; but you cansee the house and grounds if you like,' he murmured, falling back asthe four pressed in gazing rapturously about them.
'Oh, thank you! Sweet, pretty place I'm sure! That's where shewrites, ain't it? Do tell me if that's her picture! Looks just as Iimagined her!'
With these remarks the ladies paused before a fine engraving71 of theHon. Mrs Norton, with a pen in her hand and a rapt expression ofcountenance, likewise a diadem72 and pearl necklace.
Keeping his gravity with an effort, Teddy pointed73 to a very badportrait of Mrs Jo, which hung behind the door, and afforded her muchamusement, it was so dismal74, in spite of a curious effect of lightupon the end of the nose and cheeks as red as the chair she sat in.
'This was taken for my mother; but it is not very good,' he said,enjoying the struggles of the girls not to look dismayed at the saddifference between the real and the ideal. The youngest, aged28 twelve,could not conceal75 her disappointment, and turned away, feeling as somany of us have felt when we discover that our idols76 are veryordinary men and women.
'I thought she'd be about sixteen and have her hair braided in twotails down her back. I don't care about seeing her now,' said thehonest child, walking off to the hall door, leaving her mother toapologize, and her sisters to declare that the bad portrait was'perfectly lovely, so speaking and poetic77, you know, 'specially78 aboutthe brow'.
'Come girls, we must be goin', if we want to get through today. Youcan leave your albums and have them sent when Mrs Bhaer has written asentiment in 'em. We are a thousand times obliged. Give our best loveto your ma, and tell her we are so sorry not to see her.' Just asMrs. Erastus Kingsbury Parmalee uttered the words her eye fell upona middle-aged79 woman in a large checked apron80, with a handkerchieftied over her head, busily dusting an end room which looked like astudy.
'One peep at her sanctum since she is out,' cried the enthusiasticlady, and swept across the hall with her flock before Teddy couldwarn his mother, whose retreat had been cut off by the artist infront, the reporter at the back of the house--for he hadn't gone andthe ladies in the hall.
'They've got her!' thought Teddy, in comical dismay. 'No use for herto play housemaid since they've seen the portrait.'
Mrs Jo did her best, and being a good actress, would have escaped ifthe fatal picture had not betrayed her. Mrs Parmalee paused at thedesk, and regardless of the meerschaum that lay there, the man'sslippers close by, and a pile of letters directed to 'Prof. F.
Bhaer', she clasped her hands, exclaiming impressively: 'Girls, thisis the spot where she wrote those sweet, those moral tales which havethrilled us to the soul! Could I--ah, could I take one morsel81 ofpaper, an old pen, a postage stamp even, as a memento82 of this giftedwoman?'
'Yes'm, help yourselves,' replied the maid, moving away with a glanceat the boy, whose eyes were now full of merriment he could notsuppress.
The oldest girl saw it, guessed the truth, and a quick look at thewoman in the apron confirmed her suspicion. Touching83 her mother, shewhispered: 'Ma, it's Mrs Bhaer herself. I know it is.'
'No? yes? it is! Well, I do declare, how nice that is!' And hastilypursuing the unhappy woman, who was making for the door, Mrs Parmaleecried eagerly:
'Don't mind us! I know you're busy, but just let me take your handand then we'll go.'
Giving herself up for lost, Mrs Jo turned and presented her hand likea tea-tray, submitting to have it heartily shaken, as the matronsaid, with somewhat alarming hospitality:
'If ever you come to Oshkosh, your feet won't be allowed to touch thepavement; for you'll be borne in the arms of the populace, we shallbe so dreadful glad to see you.'
Mentally resolving never to visit that effusive84 town, Jo responded ascordially as she could; and having written her name in the albums,provided each visitor with a memento, and kissed them all round, theyat last departed, to call on 'Longfeller, Holmes, and the rest'--whowere all out, it is devoutly to be hoped.
'You villain85, why didn't you give me a chance to whip away? Oh, mydear, what fibs you told that man! I hope we shall be forgiven oursins in this line, but I don't know what is to become of us if wedon't dodge62. So many against one isn't fair play.' And Mrs Jo hung upher apron in the hall closet, with a groan60 at the trials of her lot.
'More people coming up the avenue! Better dodge while the coast isclear! I'll head them off!' cried Teddy, looking back from the steps,as he was departing to school.
Mrs Jo flew upstairs, and having locked her door, calmly viewed ayoung ladies' seminary camp on the lawn, and being denied the house,proceed to enjoy themselves by picking the flowers, doing up theirhair, eating lunch, and freely expressing their opinion of the placeand its possessors before they went.
A few hours of quiet followed, and she was just settling down to along afternoon of hard work, when Rob came home to tell her that theYoung Men's Christian86 Union would visit the college, and two or threeof the fellows whom she knew wanted to pay their respects to her onthe way.
'It is going to rain, so they won't come, I dare say; but fatherthought you'd like to be ready, in case they do call. You always seethe87 boys, you know, though you harden your heart to the poor girls,'
said Rob, who had heard from his brother about the morningvisitations.
'Boys don't gush88, so I can stand it. The last time I let in a partyof girls one fell into my arms and said, "Darling, love me!" I wantedto shake her,' answered Mrs Jo, wiping her pen with energy.
'You may be sure the fellows won't do it, but they will wantautographs, so you'd better be prepared with a few dozen,' said Rob,laying out a quire of notepaper, being a hospitable89 youth andsympathizing with those who admired his mother.
'They can't outdo the girls. At X College I really believe I wrotethree hundred during the day I was there, and I left a pile of cardsand albums on my table when I came away. It is one of the most absurdand tiresome90 manias91 that ever afflicted92 the world.'
Nevertheless Mrs Jo wrote her name a dozen times, put on her blacksilk, and resigned herself to the impending93 call, praying for rain,however, as she returned to her work.
The shower came, and feeling quite secure, she rumpled94 up her hair,took off her cuffs95, and hurried to finish her chapter; for thirtypages a day was her task, and she liked to have it well done beforeevening. Josie had brought some flowers for the vases, and was justputting the last touches when she saw several umbrellas bobbing downthe hill.
'They are coming, Aunty! I see uncle hurrying across the field toreceive them,' she called at the stair-foot.
'Keep an eye on them, and let me know when they enter the avenue. Itwill take but a minute to tidy up and run down,' answered Mrs Jo,scribbling away for dear life, because serials wait for no man, noteven the whole Christian Union en masse.
'There are more than two or three. I see half a dozen at least,'
called sister Ann from the hall door. 'No! a dozen, I do believe;Aunty, look out; they are all coming! What shall we do?' And Josiequailed at the idea of facing the black throng96 rapidly approaching.
'Mercy on us, there are hundreds! Run and put a tub in the back entryfor their umbrellas to drip into. Tell them to go down the hall andleave them, and pile their hats on the table; the tree won't holdthem all. No use to get mats; my poor carpets!' And down went Mrs Joto prepare for the invasion, while Josie and the maids flew aboutdismayed at the prospect97 of so many muddy boots.
On they came, a long line of umbrellas, with splashed legs andflushed faces underneath98; for the gentlemen had been having a goodtime all over the town, undisturbed by the rain. Professor Bhaer metthem at the gate, and was making a little speech of welcome, when MrsJo, touched by their bedraggled state, appeared at the door,beckoning them in. Leaving their host to orate bareheaded in the wet,the young men hastened up the steps, merry, warm, and eager,clutching off their hats as they came, and struggling with theirumbrellas, as the order was passed to march in and stack arms.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, down the hall went seventy-five pairs of boots;soon seventy-five umbrellas dripped sociably99 in the hospitable tub,while their owners swarmed100 all over the lower part of the house; andseventy-five hearty101 hands were shaken by the hostess without amurmur, though some were wet, some very warm, and nearly all boretrophies of the day's ramble102. One impetuous party flourished a smallturtle as he made his compliments; another had a load of sticks cutfrom noted103 spots; and all begged for some memento of Plumfield. Apile of cards mysteriously appeared on the table, with a writtenrequest for autographs; and despite her morning vow104, Mrs Jo wroteeveryone, while her husband and boys did the honours of the house.
Josie fled to the back parlour, but was discovered by exploringyouths, and mortally insulted by one of them, who innocently inquiredif she was Mrs Bhaer. The reception did not last long, and the endwas better than the beginning; for the rain ceased, and a rainbowshone beautifully over them as the good fellows stood upon the lawnsinging sweetly for a farewell. A happy omen30, that bow of promisearched over the young heads, as if Heaven smiled upon their union,and showed them that above the muddy earth and rainy skies theblessed sun still shone for all. Three cheers, and then away theywent, leaving a pleasant recollection of their visit to amuse thefamily as they scraped the mud off the carpets with shovels105 andemptied the tub half-full of water.
'Nice, honest, hard-working fellows, and I don't begrudge106 myhalf-hour at all; but I must finish, so don't let anyone disturb metill tea-time,' said Mrs Jo, leaving Mary to shut up the house; forpapa and the boys had gone off with the guests, and Josie had runhome to tell her mother about the fun at Aunt Jo's.
Peace reigned107 for an hour, then the bell rang and Mary came gigglingup to say: 'A queer kind of a lady wants to know if she can catch agrasshopper in the garden.'
'A what?' cried Mrs Jo, dropping her pen with a blot44; for of all theodd requests ever made, this was the oddest.
'A grasshopper108, ma'am. I said you was busy, and asked what shewanted, and says she: "I've got grasshoppers109 from the grounds ofseveral famous folks, and I want one from Plumfield to add to mycollection." Did you ever?' And Mary giggled110 again at the idea.
'Tell her to take all there are and welcome. I shall be glad to getrid of them; always bouncing in my face and getting in my dress,'
laughed Mrs Jo.
Mary retired, to return in a moment nearly speechless with merriment.
'She's much obliged, ma'am, and she'd like an old gown or a pair ofstockings of yours to put in a rug she's making. Got a vest ofEmerson's, she says, and a pair of Mr. Holmes's trousers, and a dressof Mrs Stowe's. She must be crazy!'
'Give her that old red shawl, then I shall make a gay show among thegreat ones in that astonishing rug. Yes, they are all lunatics, theselion-hunters; but this seems to be a harmless maniac111, for she doesn'ttake my time, and gives me a good laugh,' said Mrs Jo, returning toher work after a glance from the window, which showed her a tall,thin lady in rusty112 black, skipping wildly to and fro on the lawn inpursuit of the lively insect she wanted.
No more interruptions till the light began to fade, then Mary poppedher head in to say a gentleman wished to see Mrs Bhaer, and wouldn'ttake no for an answer.
'He must. I shall not go down. This has been an awful day, and Iwon't be disturbed again,' replied the harassed113 authoress, pausing inthe midst of the grand finale of her chapter.
'I told him so, ma'am; but he walked right in as bold as brass114. Iguess he's another crazy one, and I declare I'm 'most afraid of him,he's so big and black, and cool as cucumbers, though I will say he'sgood-looking,' added Mary, with a simper; for the stranger hadevidently found favour in her sight despite his boldness.
'My day has been ruined, and I will have this last half-hour tofinish. Tell him to go away; I won't go down,' cried Mrs Jo,fiercely.
Mary went; and listening, in spite of herself, her mistress heardfirst a murmur70 of voices, then a cry from Mary, and remembering theways of reporters, also that her maid was both pretty and timid, MrsBhaer flung down her pen and went to the rescue. Descending115 with hermost majestic116 air she demanded in an awe-inspiring voice, as shepaused to survey the somewhat brigandish intruder, who seemed to bestorming the staircase which Mary was gallantly117 defending:
'Who is this person who insists on remaining when I have declined tosee him?'
'I'm sure I don't know, ma'am. He won't give no name, and says you'llbe sorry if you don't see him,' answered Mary, retiring flushed andindignant from her post.
'Won't you be sorry?' asked the stranger, looking up with a pair ofblack eyes full of laughter, the flash of white teeth through a longbeard, and both hands out as he boldly approached the irate50 lady.
Mrs Jo gave one keen look, for the voice was familiar; then completedMary's bewilderment by throwing both arms round the brigand's neck,exclaiming joyfully118: 'My dearest boy, where did you come from?'
'California, on purpose to see you, Mother Bhaer. Now won't you besorry if I go away?' answered Dan, with a hearty kiss.
'To think of my ordering you out of the house when I've been longingto see you for a year,' laughed Mrs Jo, and she went down to have agood talk with her returned wanderer, who enjoyed the joke immensely.
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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17
ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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18
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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19
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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voracious
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| adj.狼吞虎咽的，贪婪的 | |
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22
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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23
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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24
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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25
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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26
ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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ravage
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| vt.使...荒废，破坏...；n.破坏，掠夺，荒废 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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30
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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32
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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33
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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35
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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36
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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38
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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39
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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40
denomination
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| n.命名，取名，(度量衡、货币等的)单位 | |
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41
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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42
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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43
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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44
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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45
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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46
gilds
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| 把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 )； 给…上金色； 作多余的修饰（反而破坏原已完美的东西）； 画蛇添足 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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49
gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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50
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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51
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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53
serials
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| n.连载小说，电视连续剧( serial的名词复数 ) | |
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54
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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55
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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56
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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57
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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58
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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59
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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60
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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61
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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62
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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63
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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64
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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65
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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66
celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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67
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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68
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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69
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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70
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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71
engraving
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| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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72
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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73
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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74
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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75
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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76
idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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77
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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78
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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79
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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80
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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81
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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82
memento
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| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
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83
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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84
effusive
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| adj.热情洋溢的；感情(过多)流露的 | |
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85
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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86
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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87
seethe
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| vi.拥挤，云集；发怒，激动，骚动 | |
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88
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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89
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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90
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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91
manias
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| n.（mania的复数形式） | |
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92
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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94
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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96
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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97
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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98
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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99
sociably
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| adv.成群地 | |
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100
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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101
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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102
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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103
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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104
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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105
shovels
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| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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106
begrudge
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| vt.吝啬，羡慕 | |
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107
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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108
grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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109
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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110
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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112
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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113
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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114
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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115
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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116
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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117
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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118
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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