Chapter 1 Playing Pilgrims

　　`Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

　　`It's so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.

　　`I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all,' added little Amy, with an injured sniff.

　　`We've got father and mother and each other,' said Beth, contentedly, from her corner.

　　The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly:

　　`We haven't got father, and shall not have him for a long time.' She didn't say `perhaps never', but each silently added it, thinking of father far away, where the fighting was.

　　Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone:

　　`You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure when our men are suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't'; and Meg shook her head, and she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.

　　`But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've each got a dollar, and the army wouldn't be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from mother or you, but I do want to buy Undine and Sintram for myself; I've wanted it so long,' said Jo, who was a bookworm.

　　`I planned to spend mine on new music,' said Beth, with a little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth-brush and kettle-holder.

　　`I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils; I really need them,' said Amy, decidedly.

　　`Mother didn't say anything about our money, and she won't wish us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want, and have a little fun; I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it,' cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.

　　`I know I do - teaching those tiresome children nearly all day when I am longing to enjoy myself at home,' began Meg, in the complaining tone again.

　　`You don't have half such a hard time as I do,' said Jo. `How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till you're ready to fly out of the window or cry?'

　　`It's naughty to fret; but I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross; and my hands get so stiff, I can't practice well at all'; and Beth looked at her rough hands with a sigh that anyone could hear that time.

　　`I don't believe any of you suffer as I do.' cried Amy; `for you don't have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if you don't know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he isn't rich, and insult you when your nose isn't nice.'

　　`If you mean libel, I'd say so, and not talk about labels, as if papa was a pickle-bottle,' advised Jo, laughing.

　　`I know what I mean, and you needn't be satirical about it. It's proper to use good words, and improve your vocabulary,' returned Amy, with dignity.

　　`Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the money papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! how happy and good we'd be, if we had no worries!' said Meg, who could remember better times.

　　`You said, the other day, you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money.'

　　`So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are; for, though we do have to work, we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say.'

　　`Jo does use such slang words!' observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.

　　`Don't, Jo; it's so boyish!'

　　`That's why I do it.'

　　`I detest rude, unlady-like girls!'

　　`I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!'

　　`Birds in their little nests agree' sang Beth, the peace maker, with such a funny face that both sharp voice softened to a laugh, and the `pecking' ended for that time.

　　`Really, girls, you are both to be blamed,' said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. `You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better Josephine. It didn't matter so much when you were a little girl; but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that you are a young lady.'

　　`I'm not! and if turning up my hair mikes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty.' cried Jo, pulling off he net, and shaking down her chestnut mane. `I hate to think I've got to grow up, and he Miss March and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys' games and work an manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman!' And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room.

　　`Poor Jo! It's too had, hut It can't he helped; so you must try to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls,' said Beth, stroking the rough head at her knee with a hand that all the dish-washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in it touch.

　　`As for you, Amy,' continued Meg, `you are altogether too particular and prim. Your airs are funny now; but you'll grow up an affected little goose, if you don't take care.

　　`I like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking when you don't try to he elegant; but your absurd words are as bad as Jo's slang.'

　　`If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?' asked Beth, ready to share the lecture.

　　`You're a dear, and nothing else,' answered Meg, warmly; and no one contradicted her, for the `Mouse' was the pet of the family.

　　As young readers like to know `how people look', we will take this moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable old room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain; for a good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant atmosphere of home-peace pervaded it.

　　Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, grey eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled in a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth - or Beth, as everyone called her - was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her `Little Tranquillity', and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person - -in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to he found out.

　　The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

　　`They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair.'

　　`I thought I'd get her some with my dollar,' said Beth.

　　`No, I shall!' cried Amy.

　　`I'm the oldest,' began Meg, hut Jo cut in with a decided:

　　`I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone.'

　　`I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Beth; `let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves.'

　　`That's like you, dear! What will we get?' exclaimed Jo. Everyone thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, `I shall give her a nice pair of gloves.'

　　`Army shoes, best to be had,' cried Jo.

　　`Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed,' said Beth.

　　`I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils,' added Amy.

　　`How will we give the things?' asked Meg.

　　`Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our birthdays?' answered Jo.

　　`I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles,' said Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea, at the same time.

　　`Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg; there is so much to do about the play for Christmas night,' said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back and her nose in the air.

　　`I don't mean to act any more after this time; I'm getting too old for such things,' observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever about `dressing-up' frolics.

　　`You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewellery. You are the best actress we've got, and there'll be an end of everything if you quit the boards,' said Jo. `We ought to rehearse tonight. Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a poker in that.'

　　`I can't help it; I never saw anyone faint, and I don't choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I'll drop: if I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful; I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol,' returned Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power but was chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the piece.

　　`Do it this way; clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room, crying frantically, "Roderigo! save me! save me!"' and away went Jo, with a melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling. Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by machinery; and her `Ow!' was more suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest.

　　`It's no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the audience laugh, don't blame me. Come on, Meg.'

　　Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without a single break; Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect; Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild `Ha! ha!'

　　`It's the best we've had yet,' said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows.

　　`I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. You're a regular Shakespeare!' exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things.

　　`Not quite,' replied Jo modestly. I do think "The Witch's Curse, an Operatic Tragedy", is rather a nice thing; but I'd like to try Macbeth, if we only had a trap-door for Banquo I always wanted to do the killing part. "Is that a dagger I see before me?"' muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a famous tragedian do.

　　`No, it's the toasting fork, with mother's shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth's stage-struck!' cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter.

　　`Glad to find you so merry, my girls,' said a cheery voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly lady, with a `can-I-help-you' look about her which was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed but a noble-looking woman, and tire girls thought the grey cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world.

　　`Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go tomorrow, that I didn't come home to dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby.'

　　While making these maternal inquiries, Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy-chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea-table; Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, overturning, and clattering everything she touched; Beth trotted to and fro between parlour and kitchen, quiet and busy; while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded.

　　As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly happy face, `I've got a treat for you after supper.'

　　A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her ds, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, `A letter! a letter! Three cheers for father!'

　　`Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls,' said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there.

　　`Hurry and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger, and simper over your plate, Amy,' cried Jo, choking in her tea, and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat. Beth ate no more, but crept away, to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready.

　　`I think it was so splendid of father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier,' said Meg, warmly.

　　`Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a vivan - what's its name? or a nurse, so I could be near him and help him,' exclaimed Jo, with a groan.

　　`It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug,' sighed Amy.

　　`When will he come home, Marmee?' asked Beth, with a little quiver in her voice.

　　`Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter.'

　　They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair, with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the home-sickness conquered; it was a cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news; and only at the end did the writer's heart overflow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home.

　　`Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely and conquer themselves so beautifully, that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.'

　　Everybody sniffed when they came to that part; Jo wasn't ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, `I am a selfish girl! but I'll truly try to be better, so he mayn't be disappointed in me by and by.'

　　`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, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.

　　Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock, and began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all that father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy coming home.

　　Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her cheery voice, `Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrim's Progress when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my piece-bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a Celestial City.'

　　`What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing through the Valley where the hobgoblins were!' said Jo.

　　`I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs,' said Meg.

　　`My favourite part was when we came out on the flat roof where our flowers and arbours and pretty things were, and all stood and sang for joy up there in the sunshine,' said Beth, smiling, as if that pleasant moment had come back to her.

　　`I don't remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it Over again,' said Amy, she began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve.

　　`We never are too old for this, my clear, because it is a play we are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get before Father comes home.'

　　`Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?' asked Amy, who was a very literal young lady.

　　`Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth; I rather think she hasn't got any,' said her mother.

　　`Yes, I have; mine is dishes and clusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid of people.'

　　Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh; but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much.

　　`Let us do it,' said Meg, thoughtfully. `It is only another name for trying to be good, and the story may help us; for though we do want to be good, it's hard work, and we forget, and don't do our best.'

　　`We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions like Christian. What shall we do about that?' asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty.

　　`Look under your pillows, Christmas morning, and you will find your guide-book' replied Mrs. March.

　　They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table; then out came tie four little work-baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries, as they stitched their way through them.

　　At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed.

　　No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano; but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys, and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had a voice like a flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoilt the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp:

　　`Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar.'

　　and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice, as she went about the house singing like a lark; and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girl never grew too old for that familiar lullaby.

 

“没有礼物圣诞节怎么过？”乔躺在小地毯上咕哝。

“贫穷真可怕！”梅格发出一声叹息，低头望着身上的旧衣服。

“有些女孩子拥有荣华富贵，有些却一无所有，我认为这不公平。”艾美鼻子轻轻一哼，三分出于轻蔑，七分出于嫉妒。

“但我们有父母姐妹，”坐在一角的贝思提出抗议。

这句令人愉快的话使炉火映照下的四张年轻的脸庞明亮起来。”我们没有父亲，很长一段时间都将没有，”乔伤心地说。听到这句话，大家的脸又暗淡下去。她虽没说"可能永远没有"，但每个人心里都把这句话悄悄说了一遍，同时想起远在战场的父亲。

大家一时无言。一会梅格换了个声调说：“你们知道妈妈为什么建议今年圣诞节不派礼物吗？因为寒冷的冬天就要来了，而我们的男人在军营里受苦受难，我们不应该花钱寻乐。

虽然我们能力有限，但可以在这方面做出一点小小的牺牲，而且应该做得高高兴兴。不过我可并不高兴。”梅格摇摇脑袋。

想到那些梦寐以求的漂亮礼物，她感到遗憾不已。

“我看我们那丁点儿钱也帮不上什么忙。我们每人只得一元钱，献给部队也没多大用处。我们不要期待妈妈给我们什么礼物，不过我真的很想买一本《水中女神》，那本书我早就想买了，”乔说。她是个蛀书虫。

“我本来打算买些新乐谱，”贝思轻轻叹了口气说，声音轻得谁也听不到。

“我要买一盒精致的费伯氏画笔。我真的很需要，”艾美干脆地说。

“妈妈没说过这钱该怎么花，要是看着我们两手空空，她也不会高兴的。我们倒不如各自买点自己喜欢的东西高兴高兴。为挣这些钱，我们花了我多少心血！“乔大声说道，蛮有绅士风度地审视着自己的鞋跟。

“可不是嘛- 差不多一天到晚都得教那些讨厌的孩子，现在多想回家轻松一下啊！”梅格又开始抱怨了。

“你何尝赶得上我辛苦呢？”乔说，”想想好几个小时和一个吹毛求疵、神经质的老太太关在一起，被她使唤得团团转，她却永远不会感到满意，把你折腾得真想从这个世界上消失或者干脆大哭一场，你会感觉怎样？”“怨天尤人并不好，但我真的觉得洗碗打扫房子是全世界最痛苦的事情。这让我脾气暴躁不算，双手也变得僵硬，连琴也弹不了。”贝思望着自己粗糙的双手叹一口气，这回每个人都听到了。

“我不相信有谁比我更痛苦，”艾美嚷道，”因为你们都不用去上学。那些女孩子粗俗无礼，如果你不懂功课，她们就让你下不了台，她们笑话你的衣着，爸爸没有钱要被她们标价，鼻子长得不漂亮也要被她们侮辱。”“你是说'讥谤'吧？别念成'标价'，好像爸爸是个腌菜瓶子似的，”乔边笑边纠正。

“我知道我在说什么你对此不必'冷嘲日（热）讽'，用好的字眼没什么不对，这有助于增加'字（词）汇'，”艾美义正辞严地反击。

“别斗嘴了，姑娘们。乔，难道你不希望我们拥有爸爸在我们小时候失去的钱吗？哦，如果我们没有烦恼，那该多幸福啊！”梅格说。她还记得过去的好时光。

“但前几天你说我们比起王孙公子来要幸福多了，因为他们虽然有钱，却一天到晚明争暗斗，烦恼不休。”“我是这么说过，贝思，嗯，现在也还是这么想，因为，虽然我们不得不干活，但我们可以互相嬉戏，而且，如乔所说，是蛮快活的一伙。”“乔就是爱用这些粗俗的字眼！”艾美抨击道，用一种谴责的眼光望着躺在地毯上的长身躯。乔立即坐起来，双手插进衣袋，吹起了口哨。

“别这样，乔，只有男孩子才这样做。”

“所以我才吹。”

“我憎恨粗鲁、没有淑女风度的女孩！”“我讨厌虚假、矫揉造作的毛头妹！“'小巢里的鸟儿一致同意，'"和平使者贝思唱起歌儿，脸上的表情滑稽有趣。尖着嗓门的两人化为一笑，”斗嘴"就此结束。

“我说姑娘们，你们两个都不对，”梅格开始以姐姐的身份说教，”约瑟芬，你已经长大了，不应再玩男孩子的把戏，应该检点一些。你还是小姑娘时这倒没有什么，但你现在已长得这么高，而且网起了头发，就得记住自己是个年轻女士。“我不是！如果网起头发就把我当女士的话，我就梳两条辫子，直到二十岁，”乔大声叫起来。她拉掉发网，披落一头栗色的厚发。”我恨我得长大，得做马奇小姐。我恨穿长礼服，恨故作正经的漂亮小姐。我喜欢男孩子的游戏，男孩子的活儿以及男孩子风度，却偏偏是个女孩子，真是倒霉透了。做不成男孩真让我止不住失望，可现在比以往任何时候都要糟，因为我是那么想跟爸爸一起参加战斗，却只能呆坐在家中做女工，像个死气沉沉的老太太！”乔抖动蓝色的军袜，把里头的针弄得铮铮作响，线团也滚落到一边。

“可怜的乔！真是不幸，但有什么办法呢？你只好把自己的名字改得男子气一些，扮演我们姐妹的哥哥，找点安慰。”贝思一面说，一面用柔软的双手轻轻抚摸着靠在她膝上的头发蓬乱的脑袋。

“至于你，艾美，”梅格接着说，”你过于讲究，过于一本正经。你的神态现在看上去挺有趣，但要是一不小心，长大就会变成个装模作样的小傻瓜。如果不刻意作态，你的言谈举止倒是十分优雅的，不过你那些荒谬的言语和乔的傻话却是半斤对八两。”“如果乔是个假小子，艾美是个小傻瓜，请问，我是什么？”贝思问道。

“你是个乖宝贝，再没别的，”梅格亲热地答道。此话无人反驳，因为这位”小胆鼠"是全家人的宠儿。

由于年轻的读者们喜欢知道“人物样貌"，我们趁此机会把坐在黄昏的余辉下做针线活儿的四姐妹概略描述一下。此时屋外的冬雪正轻轻飘落，屋内炉火噼啪欢响。虽然这间旧房子铺着褪了色的地毯，摆设也相当简单，但却显得十分舒适：墙上挂着一两幅雅致的图画，壁凹内堆满了书本，窗台上是绽放的菊花和圣诞花，屋里洋溢着一片宁静、温馨的气氛。

大姐玛格丽特，十六岁，出落得十分标致。她体态丰盈，肌肤洁白，大大的眼睛，甜甜的笑容，一头棕色秀发又浓又厚，双手白皙，这令她颇为自得。十五岁的乔身材修长，皮肤黝黑，见了使人想到一匹小公马，因为她修长的四肢相当碍事，她仿佛总是不知道该如何处置它们。她嘴巴刚毅，鼻子俊俏，灰色的眼睛异常敏锐，似乎能看穿一切，眼神时而炽烈，时而风趣，时而又像在沉思。浓密的长发使她显得特别美丽，但为了方便长发通常被她束入发网。她双肩圆润，大手大脚，穿着又宽又大的衣服。正迅速长成一个成熟的女性，心里却极不愿，因此常常流露出这个阶段的女孩所特有的尴尬神情。伊丽莎白，人称贝思，十三岁，肤色红润，秀发润泽，目如秋波。她举止腼腆，声音羞怯，神情宁静而深远，被父亲称为"小宁静"，此名非她莫属，因为她似乎独个生活在自己的伊甸园中，只敢出来会会几个最亲最信任的人。艾美虽然最小，却是个十分重要的人物。至少她自我感觉如此。她生得纤细端庄，肌骨晶莹，一双蓝眼睛，金黄色的头发卷曲披落肩头，言谈举止十足一个讲究风度的年轻女子。四姐妹的性格如何，我们后面分解。

时钟敲响六下，贝思已经扫干净壁炉地面，把一双便鞋放到上面烘干。看到这双旧鞋子，姑娘们想起妈妈就要回家了，心情明朗起来，准备迎接妈妈。梅格停止了训导，点上了灯。艾美不用人说，就离开了安乐椅。乔则坐起来把鞋子挪近火边，一时忘却了疲倦。

“鞋子太破旧了，妈咪得换双新的。”

“我想用自己的钱给她买一双，”贝思说。

“不，我来买！”艾美嚷道。

“我最大，”梅格刚开口，就被乔坚决地打断了- “爸爸不在家，我就是家里的男子汉了，鞋子我来买。因为爸爸跟我说过，他不在家的时候要我好好照顾妈妈。”“依我说应该这么着，”贝思说，”我们各自给妈妈送件圣诞礼物，我们自己什么都别要了。”“那才像你！好妹妹，送什么好呢？”乔嚷道。

大家都认真想了一会，梅格似乎从自己漂亮的双手得到启发，宣布道：“我要给妈妈送一双精致的手套。”“最好送双军鞋，”乔高声说道。

“我要送些镶边小手帕，”贝思说。

“我会送一小瓶古龙香水。因为妈妈喜欢，而且不用太花钱，我还可以省点钱给自己买铅笔，”艾美接着说。

“我们怎么个送法呢？”梅格问。

“把礼物放在桌上，把妈妈带进来，让她在我们面前亲自拆开礼物。你忘记我们是怎样过生日的吗？”乔回答。

“每当我坐在那张大椅子上，头戴花冠，看着你们一个个上前送上礼物，吻我一下时，心里真是慌得很。我喜欢你们的礼物和亲吻，但要在众目睽睽之下把礼物拆开，我就吓得心里直打鼓儿，”贝思说，边烘茶点，边取暖。

“先别告诉妈咪，让她以为我们是为自己准备的，给她一个惊喜。我们明天下午就得去办货，梅格，圣诞夜的话剧还有许多事情要准备呐。”乔说话的时候倒背着手，仰着头，来回踱步。

“演完这回，以后我就不演了。我年岁大，该退出了，”对"化装游戏"一直童心未泯的梅格说。

“你不会停止的，我知道，只要你能够披下头发，戴上金纸做的珠宝，身披白长裙摇曳而行，你就不会的。因为你是我们的最佳演员，如果你退出，那么一切都完了，”乔说，”我们今晚应该排练一下。来，艾美，试演一下晕厥那一场，你演这幕时生硬得像根拨火棍。”“有什么办法！我从来没见过人晕倒，我也不想像你一样直挺挺地摔倒，弄得自己青一块紫一块的。如果我可以轻轻地倒在地上，我就倒下，否则，还不如体面地倒在椅子上。即使雨果真的用枪指着我也是这句话，”艾美回答。她的表演天赋并不高，被选派这一角色是因为她年纪小，碰上歹徒的尖叫声由她发出更可信。

“这样来：两手这样握着，摇摇晃晃地走过房间，发狂般地叫喊：'罗德力戈！救救我！救救我！'"乔做示范，夸张地尖叫一声，令人毛骨悚然。

艾美跟着模仿，但她伸出的双手僵硬无比，发出的尖叫声与情景相差万里。她那一声"啊！”不像是感到恐惧和极度痛苦，倒像是被针戳了一下。乔失望地叹了一声，梅格却放声大笑，贝思看得有趣，把面包也烤糊了。

“不可救药！演出时尽力而为吧，如果观众笑你，别怪我。

来吧，梅格。”

接下来就顺利多了。唐·佩德罗一口气读下两页挑战世界的宣言；女巫黑格把满满一锅蟾蜍放在火里炖，妖里妖气地给它们念一道可怕的咒语；罗德力戈力拔山河地扯断锁链，雨果狂叫着"哈！哈！”在悔恨和砒霜的折磨下死去。

“这是做得最好的一次，”当"死去"的反角坐起来揉擦肘部时，梅格说。

“乔，你能写出这么好的剧本，而且演得这么出色，简直不可思议！你真是莎士比亚再世！”贝思喊道。她坚信姐妹们才华横溢，无所不能。

“过奖了，”乔谦逊地回答，”《女巫的咒语，一个歌剧式的悲剧》是挺不错的，不过我想演《麦克佩斯》，如果我们能给班柯一扇活地板门的话。我一直想演刺客这一角色。'我眼前看到的是一把刀吗？'"乔轻声朗诵，像她所见过的一位著名悲剧演员一样，转动着眼珠，两手抓向空中。

“错了，这是烧烤叉，你放上去的不是面包，而是妈妈的鞋。贝思看入迷了！“梅格叫起来。众姐妹大笑不已，排练也随之结束。

“看到你们这么快活我真高兴，我的女儿们。”门口传来一串愉快的声音，这些演员和观众转过身来，迎接一位高高个儿、充满母性的女士。她神情可亲、令人愉快。她的衣着虽不华丽，但仪态高贵。在姐妹们心目中，这位身披灰色外套，头戴一顶过时无边小圆软帽的女士是普天下最出色的母亲。

“小宝贝们，今天过得怎么样？我事情太多，要准备好明天就得发出的箱子，没能回家吃饭。有人来过吗，贝思？你感冒好点没有，梅格？乔，你看上去累极了，来吻我吧，宝贝。”马奇太太慈爱地一一询问，一面换去湿衣物，穿上暖和的拖鞋，坐在安乐椅中，把艾美拉到膝边，准备享受繁忙的一天中最幸福的时光。姑娘们纷纷行动起来，各显身手，尽量把一切都布置得舒适怡人。梅格摆茶桌，乔搬木柴并放椅子，却把柴丢落一地，把椅子也打翻，弄得咔嗒直响，贝思在客厅和厨房之间匆匆来回穿梭，忙碌而安静，而艾美则袖手旁观，发号施令。

大家都聚到桌边的时候，马奇太太说：“用饭后，我有好东西给你们。”她的脸上有一种异乎寻常的快乐。

姐妹们脸上立即现出如阳光般灿烂的笑容。贝思顾不得手里拿着饼干，拍起了手掌，乔把餐巾一抛，嚷道：“信！信！

爸爸万岁！”

“是的，一封令人愉快的长信。他一切都好，冬季也不会熬得很苦，我们不必担忧。他祝我们圣诞快乐，事事如意，并特别问候你们这些姑娘们，”马奇太太边说边用手摸着衣袋，似乎里头装着珍宝。

“快点吃饭！别停下来弯起你的小手指边吃边傻笑，艾美，”乔嚷道，她因为急不可耐地要听信，被茶噎了一口，涂了奶油的面包也掉落到地毯上。

贝思不再吃了，她悄悄走到幽暗的屋角坐下，默默想着那即将到来的欢乐，直到大家吃完。

“爸爸已超过征兵年龄，身体也不适宜当兵，我认为他去当随军牧师真是太好了，”梅格热切地说。

“我真想当个鼓手，或者当个--什么来着？或者去当个护士，这样我就可以在他身边帮忙，”乔大声说道，一边哼了一声。

“睡帐篷，吃不堪入口的食物，用大锡杯喝水，这一定十分难受，”艾美叹道。

“他什么时候回家，妈妈？”贝思声音微颤地问道。

“不出几个月，亲爱的，除非他病倒。他在部队一天就会尽忠职守一天。我们也不会要求他提早一分钟回来。现在来读信吧！”她们都围近火边，妈妈坐在大椅子上，贝思坐在她脚边，梅格和艾美一边一个靠在椅子扶手上，乔故意倚在背后，这样读到信中感人的地方时别人也不会觉察到她表情的变化。

在那种艰难的日子里，信，尤其是父亲们写回家的信，往往都催人泪下。但这封信却极少谈及受到的艰难险阻和压抑的乡愁，描述的都是些生动的军营生活、行军情况和部队新闻，读了令人心情振奋，只是在信尾才展露出一颗深沉的慈父爱心以及渴望回家和妻女们团聚的愿望。

“给她们献上我所有的爱和吻。告诉她们我天天想念她们，夜夜为她们祈祷，每时每刻都从她们的爱中得到最大的安慰。要见到她们还要等上漫长的一年，但请提醒她们我可以在等待中工作，不虚度这段难忘的日子。我知道她们会牢记我的话，做好孩子，忠实地做她们该做的事，勇敢地生活、战斗，善于自我控制。等我重返家园的时候，我的四个小妇人一定变得更可爱，更令我感到骄傲。”读到这段，每个人都抽泣鼻子，乔任由大滴大滴的泪珠从鼻尖滚落下来，艾美顾不得一头鬈发会被弄乱，把脸埋在妈妈的肩头上，呜呜咽咽地说：“我是个自私的女孩！但我一定努力进取，不让爸爸失望。”“我们都会努力！”梅格哭着说，”我太注重衣着打扮，而且讨厌工作，以后一定尽量改正。”“我会试着做个'小妇人'，就像爸爸总爱这么叫我的那样，改掉粗野的脾气，做好自己的分内事，不再胡思乱想，“乔说，心里明白在家管好自己的脾气比在南方对付两个敌人还要艰难。

贝思没有言语，只是用深蓝色的军袜抹掉眼泪，拼命埋头编织。她不浪费点滴时间，而是从身边的工作做起，并暗下决心，一定让爸爸回来欢聚的时候如愿以偿。

马奇太太用她愉悦的声音打破了乔说话之后的一阵沉默：“你们还记得演《天路历程》的情形吗？那时候你们还都是些小东西。你们最喜欢我把布袋绑到你们背上做担子，再给你们帽、棍子和纸卷，让你们从屋里走到地窖，也就是'毁灭城'，又再往上一直走到屋顶，在那里你们可以得到许多好东西，这就是'天国'了。“那多好玩啊，特别是走过狮子群，大战'地狱魔王'，路过'妖怪谷'时候！”乔说。

“我喜欢包袱掉下来滚落楼梯这个情节，”梅格说。

“我最喜欢的是我们走出来，上到平坦的屋顶，屋顶满是鲜花、乔木和美丽的东西，我们站在那里，在阳光照耀下，放声欢歌，”贝思微微笑着说，好像又重新回到了那美好的时刻。

“我不大记得了，只记得我挺害怕那个地窖和黑漆漆的入口，还有就是挺喜欢吃屋顶上的蛋糕和牛奶。如果不是年龄太大，我倒挺想再演一回。”年仅十二但已显得成熟的艾美开始谈论告别童真了。

“演这出戏永远没有年龄之分，亲爱的，事实上我们一直都在扮演，只是方式不同而已。我们重担在肩，道路就在眼前，追求善美、追求幸福的愿望引导我们跨越无数艰难险阻，最后踏入圣宁之地--真正的'天国'。来吧，往天国进发的小旅客们，再来一次吧。不是做戏，而是真心真意地去做，看看爸爸回来时你们走了多远的路。”“真的吗，妈妈？我们的重担在哪里？”缺乏想像力的年轻女士艾美问道。

“刚才你们各人都把自己的担子说了出来，只有贝思除外。恐怕她没有哩，”母亲答道。

“有呵，我也有。锅、碗、瓶、盆，扫帚抹布，嫉妒有漂亮钢琴的女孩，害怕生人，这些都是我的担子。”贝思的包袱如此有趣，大家直想笑，不过都没有笑出来，因为这样会大大伤害她的自尊心。

“干这些有什么不好呢？”梅格沉思着说，”这其实就是追求善美，只是说法不同而已，而这个故事可以启发我们，因为尽管我们都有追求善美之心，但因为做起来困难，我们便又忘掉了，不去尽力而为。”“我们今晚本来处于'绝望的深渊'，妈妈像书中的'帮助'一样来把我们拉了出去，我们应该像基督教徒一样有几本指导手册。这事怎么办好呢？”乔问，为自己的想像力给沉闷的任务添加了几分浪漫色彩而自鸣得意。

“圣诞节一早看看你们的枕下，就会找到指导手册了，”马奇太太说。

罕娜嬷嬷收拾桌子时，大家开始讨论新计划，然后取出四个装活计的小篮子，姐妹们开始飞针走线，为马奇太太缝制被单。针线活是个沉闷的活儿，不过今天晚上谁也没有抱怨。她们采纳乔的建议，把长长的缝口分为四段，分别称为欧洲、亚洲、非洲和美洲。这样果然缝得快多了。她们一边缝一边谈论针线穿越的不同国家，更觉进展神速。

九点钟的时候大家停下活儿，像平时那样先唱歌再去睡觉。家里有架老掉牙的钢琴，除了贝思，大家都不大会弹。她轻轻触动泛黄的琴键，大家随着悠扬的琴声唱了起来。梅格的嗓音像芦笛一样动听，她和母亲担任这支小演唱队的领唱。

艾美歌声清脆，如蟋蟀的鸣叫，乔则任由歌声在空中飘荡，总是在不适宜的时候冒出个颤音或怪叫声来，把最深沉的曲调给糟蹋掉。打从牙牙学语的时候开始，她们就一直这样唱：小星星，亮晶晶，如今这已成了家里的惯例，因为她们的母亲就是个天生的歌唱家。早上听到的第一个声音就是她在屋子里走动时唱出的云雀般婉转的歌声，晚上，她那轻快的歌声又成了一天的尾声。这支熟识的摇篮曲姑娘们百听不厌。