Jo’s Boys. Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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sir. Yes, I expect to be pretty lonely till I get started, then my music and the hope of getting on will cheer me up,’ answered Nat, who both longed and dreaded to leave all these friends behind him and make new ones.
He was a man now; but the blue eyes were as honest as ever, the mouth still a little weak, in spite of the carefully cherished moustache over it, and the broad forehead more plainly than ever betrayed the music-loving nature of the youth. Modest, affectionate, and dutiful, Nat was considered a pleasant though not a brilliant success by Mrs Jo. She loved and trusted him, and was sure he would do his best, but did not expect that he would be great in any way, unless the stimulus of foreign training and self-dependence made him a better artist and a stronger man than now seemed likely.
‘I’ve marked all your things—or rather, Daisy did—and as soon as your books are collected, we can see about the packing,’ said Mrs Jo, who was so used to fitting boys off for all quarters of the globe that a trip to the North Pole would not have been too much for her.
Nat grew red at mention of that name—or was it the last glow of sunset on his rather pale cheek?—and his heart beat happily at the thought of the dear girl working Ns and Bs on his humble socks and handkerchiefs; for Nat adored Daisy, and the cherished dream of his life was to earn a place for himself as a musician and win this angel for his wife. This hope did more for him than the Professor’s counsels, Mrs Jo’s care, or Mr Laurie’s generous help. For her sake he worked, waited, and hoped, finding courage and patience in the dream of that happy future when Daisy should make a little home for him and he fiddle a fortune into her lap.
Mrs Jo knew this; and though he was not exactly the man she would have chosen for her niece, she felt that Nat would always need just the wise and loving care Daisy could give him, and that without it there was danger of his being one of the amiable and aimless men who fail for want of the right pilot to steer them safely through the world. Mrs Meg decidedly frowned upon the poor boy’s love, and would not hear of giving her dear girl to any but the best man to be found on the face of the earth. She was very kind, but as firm as such gentle souls can be; and Nat fled for comfort to Mrs Jo, who always espoused the interests of her boys heartily. A new set of anxieties was beginning now that the aforesaid boys were growing up, and she foresaw no end of worry as well as amusement in the love-affairs already budding in her flock. Mrs Meg was usually her best ally and adviser, for she loved romances as well now as when a blooming girl herself. But in this case she hardened her heart, and would not hear a word of entreaty. ‘Nat was not man enough, never would be, no one knew his family, a musician’s life was a hard one; Daisy was too young, five or six years hence when time had proved both perhaps. Let us see what absence will do for him.’ And that was the end of it, for when the maternal Pelican was roused she could be very firm, though for her precious children she would have plucked her last feather and given the last drop of her blood.
Mrs Jo was thinking of this as she looked at Nat while he talked with her husband about Leipzig, and she resolved to have a clear understanding with him before he went; for she was used to confidences, and talked freely with her boys about the trials and temptations that beset all lives in the beginning, and so often mar them, for want of the right word at the right moment.
This is the first duty of parents, and no false delicacy should keep them from the watchful care, the gentle warning, which makes self-knowledge and self-control the compass and pilot of the young as they leave the safe harbour of home.
‘Plato and his disciples approach,’ announced irreverent Teddy, as Mr March came in with several young men and women about him; for the wise old man was universally beloved, and ministered so beautifully to his flock that many of them thanked him all their lives for the help given to both hearts and souls.
Bess went to him at once; for since Marmee died, Grandpapa was her special care, and it was sweet to see the golden head bend over the silver one as she rolled out his easy-chair and waited on him with tender alacrity.
‘Aesthetic tea always on tap here, sir; will you have a flowing bowl or a bit of ambrosia?’ asked Laurie, who was wandering about with a sugar-basin in one hand and a plate of cake in the other; for sweetening cups and feeding the hungry was work he loved.
‘Neither, thanks; this child has taken care of me’; and Mr March turned to Bess, who sat on one arm of his chair, holding a glass of fresh milk.
‘Long may she live to do it, sir, and I be here to see this pretty contradiction of the song that “youth and age cannot live together”!’ answered Laurie, smiling at the pair.
‘“Crabbed age”, papa; that makes all the difference in the world,’ said Bess quickly; for she loved poetry, and read the best.
‘Wouldst thou see fresh roses grow
In a reverend bed of snow?’
quoted Mr March, as Josie came and perched on the other arm, looking like a very thorny little rose; for she had been having a hot discussion with Ted, and had got the worst of it.
‘Grandpa, must women always obey men and say they are the wisest, just because they are the strongest?’ she cried, looking fiercely at her cousin, who came stalking up with a provoking smile on the boyish face that was always very comical atop of that tall figure.
‘Well, my dear, that is the old-fashioned belief, and it will take some time to change it. But I think the woman’s hour has struck; and it looks to me as if the boys must do their best, for the girls are abreast now, and may reach the goal first,’ answered Mr March, surveying with paternal satisfaction the bright faces of the young women, who were among the best students in the college.
‘The poor little Atalantas are sadly distracted and delayed by the obstacles thrown in their way—not golden apples, by any means—but I think they will stand a fair chance when they have learned to run better,’ laughed Uncle Laurie, stroking Josie’s breezy hair, which stood up like the fur of an angry kitten.
‘Whole barrels of apples won’t stop me when I start, and a dozen Teds won’t trip me up, though they may try. I’ll show him that a woman can act as well, if not better, than a man. It has been done, and will be again; and I’ll never own that my brain isn’t as good as his, though it may be smaller,’ cried the excited young person.
‘If you shake your head in that violent way you’ll addle what brains you have got; and I’d take care of ’em, if I were you,’ began teasing Ted.
‘What started this civil war?’ asked Grandpapa, with a gentle emphasis on the adjective, which caused the combatants to calm their ardour a little.
‘Why, we were pegging away at the Iliad and came to where Zeus tells Juno not to inquire into his plans or he’ll whip her, and Jo was disgusted because Juno meekly hushed up. I said it was all right, and agreed with the old fellow that women didn’t know much and ought to obey men,’ explained Ted, to the great amusement of his hearers.
‘Goddesses may do as they like, but those Greek and Trojan women were poor-spirited things if they minded men who couldn’t fight their own battles and had to be hustled off by Pallas, and Venus, and Juno, when they were going to get beaten. The idea of two armies stopping and sitting down while a pair of heroes flung stones at one another! I don’t think much of your old Homer. Give me Napoleon or Grant for my hero.’
Josie’s scorn was as funny as if a humming-bird scolded at an ostrich, and everyone laughed as she sniffed at the immortal poet and criticized the gods.
‘Napoleon’s Juno had a nice time; didn’t she? That’s just the way girls argue—first one way and then the other,’ jeered Ted.
‘Like Johnson’s young lady, who was “not categorical, but all wiggle-waggle”,’ added Uncle Laurie, enjoying the battle immensely.
‘I was only speaking of them as soldiers. But if you come to the woman side of it, wasn’t Grant a kind husband and Mrs Grant a happy woman? He didn’t threaten to whip her if she asked a natural question; and if Napoleon did do wrong about Josephine, he could fight, and didn’t want any