<h2><SPAN name="chap16"></SPAN>CHAPTER SIXTEEN<br/> LETTERS</h2>
<p>In the cold gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp and read their chapter with an
earnestness never felt before. For now the shadow of a real trouble had come,
the little books were full of help and comfort, and as they dressed, they
agreed to say goodbye cheerfully and hopefully, and send their mother on her
anxious journey unsaddened by tears or complaints from them. Everything seemed
very strange when they went down, so dim and still outside, so full of light
and bustle within. Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even
Hannah’s familiar face looked unnatural as she flew about her kitchen
with her nightcap on. The big trunk stood ready in the hall, Mother’s
cloak and bonnet lay on the sofa, and Mother herself sat trying to eat, but
looking so pale and worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it
very hard to keep their resolution. Meg’s eyes kept filling in spite of
herself, Jo was obliged to hide her face in the kitchen roller more than once,
and the little girls wore a grave, troubled expression, as if sorrow was a new
experience to them.</p>
<p>Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near and they sat waiting for the
carriage, Mrs. March said to the girls, who were all busied about her, one
folding her shawl, another smoothing out the strings of her bonnet, a third
putting on her overshoes, and a fourth fastening up her travelling bag...</p>
<p>“Children, I leave you to Hannah’s care and Mr. Laurence’s
protection. Hannah is faithfulness itself, and our good neighbor will guard you
as if you were his own. I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you
should take this trouble rightly. Don’t grieve and fret when I am gone,
or think that you can be idle and comfort yourselves by being idle and trying
to forget. Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace. Hope
and keep busy, and whatever happens, remember that you never can be
fatherless.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mother.”</p>
<p>“Meg, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, consult Hannah, and in
any perplexity, go to Mr. Laurence. Be patient, Jo, don’t get despondent
or do rash things, write to me often, and be my brave girl, ready to help and
cheer all. Beth, comfort yourself with your music, and be faithful to the
little home duties, and you, Amy, help all you can, be obedient, and keep happy
safe at home.”</p>
<p>“We will, Mother! We will!”</p>
<p>The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen. That was
the hard minute, but the girls stood it well. No one cried, no one ran away or
uttered a lamentation, though their hearts were very heavy as they sent loving
messages to Father, remembering, as they spoke that it might be too late to
deliver them. They kissed their mother quietly, clung about her tenderly, and
tried to wave their hands cheerfully when she drove away.</p>
<p>Laurie and his grandfather came over to see her off, and Mr. Brooke looked so
strong and sensible and kind that the girls christened him ‘Mr.
Greatheart’ on the spot.</p>
<p>“Good-by, my darlings! God bless and keep us all!” whispered Mrs.
March, as she kissed one dear little face after the other, and hurried into the
carriage.</p>
<p>As she rolled away, the sun came out, and looking back, she saw it shining on
the group at the gate like a good omen. They saw it also, and smiled and waved
their hands, and the last thing she beheld as she turned the corner was the
four bright faces, and behind them like a bodyguard, old Mr. Laurence, faithful
Hannah, and devoted Laurie.</p>
<p>“How kind everyone is to us!” she said, turning to find fresh proof
of it in the respectful sympathy of the young man’s face.</p>
<p>“I don’t see how they can help it,” returned Mr. Brooke,
laughing so infectiously that Mrs. March could not help smiling. And so the
journey began with the good omens of sunshine, smiles, and cheerful words.</p>
<p>“I feel as if there had been an earthquake,” said Jo, as their
neighbors went home to breakfast, leaving them to rest and refresh themselves.</p>
<p>“It seems as if half the house was gone,” added Meg forlornly.</p>
<p>Beth opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile of
nicely mended hose which lay on Mother’s table, showing that even in her
last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them. It was a little
thing, but it went straight to their hearts, and in spite of their brave
resolutions, they all broke down and cried bitterly.</p>
<p>Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings, and when the shower
showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with a coffeepot.</p>
<p>“Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don’t
fret. Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let’s fall to
work and be a credit to the family.”</p>
<p>Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that morning. No
one could resist her persuasive nods, or the fragrant invitation issuing from
the nose of the coffee pot. They drew up to the table, exchanged their
handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes were all right again.</p>
<p>“‘Hope and keep busy’, that’s the motto for us, so
let’s see who will remember it best. I shall go to Aunt March, as usual.
Oh, won’t she lecture though!” said Jo, as she sipped with
returning spirit.</p>
<p>“I shall go to my Kings, though I’d much rather stay at home and
attend to things here,” said Meg, wishing she hadn’t made her eyes
so red.</p>
<p>“No need of that. Beth and I can keep house perfectly well,” put in
Amy, with an important air.</p>
<p>“Hannah will tell us what to do, and we’ll have everything nice
when you come home,” added Beth, getting out her mop and dish tub without
delay.</p>
<p>“I think anxiety is very interesting,” observed Amy, eating sugar
pensively.</p>
<p>The girls couldn’t help laughing, and felt better for it, though Meg
shook her head at the young lady who could find consolation in a sugar bowl.</p>
<p>The sight of the turnovers made Jo sober again; and when the two went out to
their daily tasks, they looked sorrowfully back at the window where they were
accustomed to see their mother’s face. It was gone, but Beth had
remembered the little household ceremony, and there she was, nodding away at
them like a rosyfaced mandarin.</p>
<p>“That’s so like my Beth!” said Jo, waving her hat, with a
grateful face. “Goodbye, Meggy, I hope the Kings won’t strain
today. Don’t fret about Father, dear,” she added, as they parted.</p>
<p>“And I hope Aunt March won’t croak. Your hair is becoming, and it
looks very boyish and nice,” returned Meg, trying not to smile at the
curly head, which looked comically small on her tall sister’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“That’s my only comfort.” And, touching her hat a la Laurie,
away went Jo, feeling like a shorn sheep on a wintry day.</p>
<p>News from their father comforted the girls very much, for though dangerously
ill, the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had already done him
good. Mr. Brooke sent a bulletin every day, and as the head of the family, Meg
insisted on reading the dispatches, which grew more cheerful as the week
passed. At first, everyone was eager to write, and plump envelopes were
carefully poked into the letter box by one or other of the sisters, who felt
rather important with their Washington correspondence. As one of these packets
contained characteristic notes from the party, we will rob an imaginary mail,
and read them.</p>
<p class="letter">
My dearest Mother:</p>
<p class="letter">
It is impossible to tell you how happy your last letter made us, for the news
was so good we couldn’t help laughing and crying over it. How very kind
Mr. Brooke is, and how fortunate that Mr. Laurence’s business detains him
near you so long, since he is so useful to you and Father. The girls are all as
good as gold. Jo helps me with the sewing, and insists on doing all sorts of
hard jobs. I should be afraid she might overdo, if I didn’t know her
‘moral fit’ wouldn’t last long. Beth is as regular about her
tasks as a clock, and never forgets what you told her. She grieves about
Father, and looks sober except when she is at her little piano. Amy minds me
nicely, and I take great care of her. She does her own hair, and I am teaching
her to make buttonholes and mend her stockings. She tries very hard, and I know
you will be pleased with her improvement when you come. Mr. Laurence watches
over us like a motherly old hen, as Jo says, and Laurie is very kind and
neighborly. He and Jo keep us merry, for we get pretty blue sometimes, and feel
like orphans, with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint. She does not
scold at all, and always calls me Miss Margaret, which is quite proper, you
know, and treats me with respect. We are all well and busy, but we long, day
and night, to have you back. Give my dearest love to Father, and believe me,
ever your own...</p>
<p class="letter">
MEG</p>
<p>This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to the next,
which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper, ornamented with blots
and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed letters.</p>
<p class="letter">
My precious Marmee:</p>
<p class="letter">
Three cheers for dear Father! Brooke was a trump to telegraph right off, and
let us know the minute he was better. I rushed up garret when the letter came,
and tried to thank God for being so good to us, but I could only cry, and say,
“I’m glad! I’m glad!” Didn’t that do as well as a
regular prayer? For I felt a great many in my heart. We have such funny times,
and now I can enjoy them, for everyone is so desperately good, it’s like
living in a nest of turtledoves. You’d laugh to see Meg head the table
and try to be motherish. She gets prettier every day, and I’m in love
with her sometimes. The children are regular archangels, and I—well,
I’m Jo, and never shall be anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came
near having a quarrel with Laurie. I freed my mind about a silly little thing,
and he was offended. I was right, but didn’t speak as I ought, and he
marched home, saying he wouldn’t come again till I begged pardon. I
declared I wouldn’t and got mad. It lasted all day. I felt bad and wanted
you very much. Laurie and I are both so proud, it’s hard to beg pardon.
But I thought he’d come to it, for I was in the right. He didn’t
come, and just at night I remembered what you said when Amy fell into the
river. I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on
my anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry. I met him at the gate,
coming for the same thing. We both laughed, begged each other’s pardon,
and felt all good and comfortable again.</p>
<p class="letter">
I made a ‘pome’ yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash, and as
Father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him. Give him my
lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your...</p>
<p class="letter">
TOPSY-TURVY JO</p>
<p class="poem">
A SONG FROM THE SUDS</p>
<p class="poem">
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,<br/>
While the white foam rises high,<br/>
And sturdily wash and rinse and wring,<br/>
And fasten the clothes to dry.<br/>
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,<br/>
Under the sunny sky.</p>
<p class="poem">
I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls<br/>
The stains of the week away,<br/>
And let water and air by their magic make<br/>
Ourselves as pure as they.<br/>
Then on the earth there would be indeed,<br/>
A glorious washing day!</p>
<p class="poem">
Along the path of a useful life,<br/>
Will heart’s-ease ever bloom.<br/>
The busy mind has no time to think<br/>
Of sorrow or care or gloom.<br/>
And anxious thoughts may be swept away,<br/>
As we bravely wield a broom.</p>
<p class="poem">
I am glad a task to me is given,<br/>
To labor at day by day,<br/>
For it brings me health and strength and hope,<br/>
And I cheerfully learn to say,<br/>
“Head, you may think, Heart, you may feel,<br/>
But, Hand, you shall work alway!”</p>
<p class="letter">
Dear Mother,</p>
<p class="letter">
There is only room for me to send my love, and some pressed pansies from the
root I have been keeping safe in the house for Father to see. I read every
morning, try to be good all day, and sing myself to sleep with Father’s
tune. I can’t sing ‘LAND OF THE LEAL’ now, it makes me cry.
Everyone is very kind, and we are as happy as we can be without you. Amy wants
the rest of the page, so I must stop. I didn’t forget to cover the
holders, and I wind the clock and air the rooms every day.</p>
<p class="letter">
Kiss dear Father on the cheek he calls mine. Oh, do come soon to your loving...</p>
<p class="letter">
LITTLE BETH</p>
<p class="letter">
Ma Chere Mamma,</p>
<p class="letter">
We are all well I do my lessons always and never corroberate the
girls—Meg says I mean contradick so I put in both words and you can take
the properest. Meg is a great comfort to me and lets me have jelly every night
at tea its so good for me Jo says because it keeps me sweet tempered. Laurie is
not as respeckful as he ought to be now I am almost in my teens, he calls me
Chick and hurts my feelings by talking French to me very fast when I say Merci
or Bon jour as Hattie King does. The sleeves of my blue dress were all worn
out, and Meg put in new ones, but the full front came wrong and they are more
blue than the dress. I felt bad but did not fret I bear my troubles well but I
do wish Hannah would put more starch in my aprons and have buckwheats every
day. Can’t she? Didn’t I make that interrigation point nice? Meg
says my punchtuation and spelling are disgraceful and I am mortyfied but dear
me I have so many things to do, I can’t stop. Adieu, I send heaps of love
to Papa. Your affectionate daughter...</p>
<p class="letter">
AMY CURTIS MARCH</p>
<p class="letter">
Dear Mis March,</p>
<p class="letter">
I jes drop a line to say we git on fust rate. The girls is clever and fly round
right smart. Miss Meg is going to make a proper good housekeeper. She hes the
liking for it, and gits the hang of things surprisin quick. Jo doos beat all
for goin ahead, but she don’t stop to cal’k’late fust, and
you never know where she’s like to bring up. She done out a tub of
clothes on Monday, but she starched ’em afore they was wrenched, and
blued a pink calico dress till I thought I should a died a laughin. Beth is the
best of little creeters, and a sight of help to me, bein so forehanded and
dependable. She tries to learn everything, and really goes to market beyond her
years, likewise keeps accounts, with my help, quite wonderful. We have got on
very economical so fur. I don’t let the girls hev coffee only once a
week, accordin to your wish, and keep em on plain wholesome vittles. Amy does
well without frettin, wearin her best clothes and eatin sweet stuff. Mr. Laurie
is as full of didoes as usual, and turns the house upside down frequent, but he
heartens the girls, so I let em hev full swing. The old gentleman sends heaps
of things, and is rather wearin, but means wal, and it aint my place to say
nothin. My bread is riz, so no more at this time. I send my duty to Mr. March,
and hope he’s seen the last of his Pewmonia.</p>
<p class="letter">
Yours respectful, <br/>
Hannah Mullet</p>
<p class="letter">
Head Nurse of Ward No. 2, <br/>
<br/>
All serene on the Rappahannock, troops in fine condition, commisary department
well conducted, the Home Guard under Colonel Teddy always on duty, Commander in
Chief General Laurence reviews the army daily, Quartermaster Mullet keeps order
in camp, and Major Lion does picket duty at night. A salute of twenty-four guns
was fired on receipt of good news from Washington, and a dress parade took
place at headquarters. Commander in chief sends best wishes, in which he is
heartily joined by... <br/>
<br/>
COLONEL TEDDY</p>
<p class="letter">
Dear Madam:</p>
<p class="letter">
The little girls are all well. Beth and my boy report daily. Hannah is a model
servant, and guards pretty Meg like a dragon. Glad the fine weather holds. Pray
make Brooke useful, and draw on me for funds if expenses exceed your estimate.
Don’t let your husband want anything. Thank God he is mending.</p>
<p class="letter">
Your sincere friend and servant, JAMES LAURENCE</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />