Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughtershovered about Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything tolook at, wait upon, and listen to the new invalid, who was in afair way to be killed by kindness. As he sat propped up in abig chair by Beth's sofa, with the other three close by, andHannah popping in her head now and then 'to peek at the dearman', nothing seemed needed to complete their happiness. Butsomething was needed, and the elder ones felt it, though noneconfessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one anotherwith an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg. Johad sudden fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist atMr. Brooke's umbrella, which had been left in the hall. Megwas absent-minded, shy, and silent, started when the bell rang,and colored when John's name was mentioned. Amy said,"Everyone seemed waiting for something, and couldn't settle down,which was queer, since Father was safe at home," and Beth innocentlywondered why their neighbors didn't run over as usual.

Laurie went by in the afternoon, and seeing Meg at the window,seemed suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he felldown on one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair,and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon.And when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrungimaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round thecorner as if in utter despair.

"What does the goose mean?" said Meg, laughing and trying tolook unconscious.

"He's showing you how your John will go on by-and-by.Touching, isn't it?" answered Jo scornfully.

"Don't say my John, it isn't proper or true," but Meg's voicelingered over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. "Pleasedon't plague me, Jo, I've told you I don't care much about him, andthere isn't to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, andgo on as before."

"We can't, for something has been said, and Laurie's mischiefhas spoiled you for me. I see it, and so does Mother. You are notlike your old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from me. Idon't mean to plague you and will bear it like a man, but I do wishit was all settled. I hate to wait, so if you mean ever to do it,make haste and have it over quickly," said Jo pettishly.

"I can't say anything till he speaks, and he won't, becauseFather said I was too young," began Meg, bending over her workwith a queer little smile, which suggested that she did not quiteagree with her father on that point.

"If he did speak, you wouldn't know what to say, but wouldcry or blush, or let him have his own way, instead of giving agood, decided no."

"I'm not so silly and weak as you think. I know just whatI should say, for I've planned it all, so I needn't be takenunawares. There's no knowing what may happen, and I wished tobe prepared."

Jo couldn't help smiling at the important air which Meg hadunconsciously assumed and which was as becoming as the prettycolor varying in her cheeks.

"Would you mind telling me what you'd say?" asked Jo morerespectfully.

"Not at all. You are sixteen now, quite old enough to bemy confident, and my experience will be useful to you by-and-by,perhaps, in your own affairs of this sort."

"Don't mean to have any. It's fun to watch other peoplephilander, but I should feel like a fool doing it myself," saidJo, looking alarmed at the thought.

"I think not, if you liked anyone very much, and he likedyou." Meg spoke as if to herself, and glanced out at the lanewhere she had often seen lovers walking together in the summertwilight.

"I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man,"said Jo, rudely shortening her sister's little reverie.

"Oh, I should merely say, quite calmly and decidedly, 'Thankyou, Mr. Brooke, you are very kind, but I agree with Father thatI am too young to enter into any engagement at present, so pleasesay no more, but let us be friends as we were.'"

"Hum, that's stiff and cool enough! I don't believe you'llever say it, and I know he won't be satisfied if you do. If hegoes on like the rejected lovers in books, you'll give in, ratherthan hurt his feelings."

"No, I won't. I shall tell him I've made up my mind, andshall walk out of the room with dignity."

Meg rose as she spoke, and was just going to rehearse thedignified exit, when a step in the hall made her fly into herseat and begin to sew as fast as if her life depended on finishingthat particular seam in a given time. Jo smothered a laughat the sudden change, and when someone gave a modest tap, openedthe door with a grim aspect which was anything but hospitable.

"Good afternoon. I came to get my umbrella, that is, to seehow your father finds himself today," said Mr. Brooke, getting atrifle confused as his eyes went from one telltale face to the other.

"It's very well, he's in the rack. I'll get him, and tell ityou are here." And having jumbled her father and the umbrella welltogether in her reply, Jo slipped out of the room to give Meg achance to make her speech and air her dignity. But the instant shevanished, Meg began to sidle toward the door, murmuring . . .

"Mother will like to see you. Pray sit down, I'll call her."

"Don't go. Are you afraid of me, Margaret?" and Mr. Brookelooked so hurt that Meg thought she must have done something veryrude. She blushed up to the little curls on her forehead, for hehad never called her Margaret before, and she was surprised tofind how natural and sweet it seemed to hear him say it. Anxiousto appear friendly and at her ease, she put out her hand with aconfiding gesture, and said gratefully . . .

"How can I be afraid when you have been so kind to Father?I only wish I could thank you for it."

"Shall I tell you how?" asked Mr. Brooke, holding the smallhand fast in both his own, and looking down at Meg with so muchlove in the brown eyes that her heart began to flutter, and sheboth longed to run away and to stop and listen.

"Oh no, please don't, I'd rather not," she said, trying towithdraw her hand, and looking frightened in spite of her denial.

"I won't trouble you. I only want to know if you care forme a little, Meg. I love you so much, dear," added Mr. Brooketenderly.

This was the moment for the calm, proper speech, but Megdidn't make it. She forgot every word of it, hung her head, andanswered, "I don't know," so softly that John had to stoop downto catch the foolish little reply.

He seemed to think it was worth the trouble, for he smiledto himself as if quite satisfied, pressed the plump handgratefully, and said in his most persuasive tone, "Will you try andfind out? I want to know so much, for I can't go to work withany heart until I learn whether I am to have my reward in the endor not."

"I'm too young," faltered Meg, wondering why she was sofluttered, yet rather enjoying it.

"I'll wait, and in the meantime, you could be learning tolike me. Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?"

"Not if I chose to learn it, but. . ."

"Please choose to learn, Meg. I love to teach, and thisis easier than German," broke in John, getting possession of theother hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face as he bentto look into it.

His tone was properly beseeching, but stealing a shy lookat him, Meg saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, andthat he wore the satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of hissuccess. This nettled her. Annie Moffat's foolish lessons incoquetry came into her mind, and the love of power, which sleepsin the bosoms of the best of little women, woke up all of asudden and took possession of her. She felt excited andstrange, and not knowing what else to do, followed acapricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly,"I don't choose. Please go away and let me be!"

Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the airwas tumbling about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in sucha mood before, and it rather bewildered him.

"Do you really mean that?" he asked anxiously, followingher as she walked away.

"Yes, I do. I don't want to be worried about such things.Father says I needn't, it's too soon and I'd rather not."

"Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by-and-by? I'llwait and say nothing till you have had more time. Don't playwith me, Meg. I didn't think that of you."

"Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't," saidMeg, taking a naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patienceand her own power.

He was grave and pale now, and looked decidedly more likethe novel heroes whom she admired, but he neither slapped hisforehead nor tramped about the room as they did. He just stoodlooking at her so wistfully, so tenderly, that she found herheart relenting in spite of herself. What would have happenednext I cannot say, if Aunt March had not come hobbling in atthis interesting minute.

The old lady couldn't resist her longing to see her nephew,for she had met Laurie as she took her airing, and hearing ofMr. March's arrival, drove straight out to see him. The familywere all busy in the back part of the house, and she had madeher way quietly in, hoping to surprise them. She did surprisetwo of them so much that Meg started as if she had seen aghost, and Mr. Brooke vanished into the study.

"Bless me, what's all this?" cried the old lady with a rapof her cane as she glanced from the pale young gentleman to thescarlet young lady.

"It's Father's friend. I'm so surprised to see you!" stammered Meg,feeling that she was in for a lecture now.

"That's evident," returned Aunt March, sitting down. "Butwhat is Father's friend saying to make you look like a peony?There's mischief going on, and I insist upon knowing what itis," with another rap.

"We were only talking. Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella,"began Meg, wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safelyout of the house.

"Brooke? That boy's tutor? Ah! I understand now. I knowall about it. Jo blundered into a wrong message in one of yourFather's letters, and I made her tell me. You haven't gone andaccepted him, child?" cried Aunt March, looking scandalized.

"Hush! He'll hear. Shan't I call Mother?" said Meg, muchtroubled.

"Not yet. I've something to say to you, and I must free mymind at once. Tell me, do you mean to marry this Cook? If youdo, not one penny of my money ever goes to you. Remember that,and be a sensible girl," said the old lady impressively.

Now Aunt March possessed in perfection the art of rousingthe spirit of opposition in the gentlest people, and enjoyeddoing it. The best of us have a spice of perversity in us,especially when we are young and in love. If Aunt March hadbegged Meg to accept John Brooke, she would probably havedeclared she couldn't think of it, but as she was preemptorilyordered not to like him, she immediately made up her mind thatshe would. Inclination as well as perversity made the decisioneasy, and being already much excited, Meg opposed the old ladywith unusual spirit.

"I shall marry whom I please, Aunt March, and you canleave your money to anyone you like," she said, nodding herhead with a resolute air.

"Highty-tighty! Is that the way you take my advice, Miss?You'll be sorry for it by-and-by, when you've tried love in acottage and found it a failure."

"It can't be a worse one than some people find in bighouses," retorted Meg.

Aunt March put on her glasses and took a look at the girl,for she did not know her in this new mood. Meg hardly knewherself, she felt so brave and independent, so glad to defendJohn and assert her right to love him, if she liked. Aunt Marchsaw that she had begun wrong, and after a little pause, made afresh start, saying as mildly as she could, "Now, Meg, my dear,be reasonable and take my advice. I mean it kindly, and don'twant you to spoil your whole life by making a mistake at thebeginning. You ought to marry well and help your family. It'syour duty to make a rich match and it ought to be impressedupon you."

"Father and Mother don't think so. They like John thoughhe is poor."

"Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than apair of babies."

"I'm glad of it," cried Meg stoutly.

Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture. "This Rook is poor and hasn't got any rich relations, has he?"

"No, but he has many warm friends."

"You can't live on friends, try it and see how cool they'llgrow. He hasn't any business, has he?"

"Not yet. Mr. Laurence is going to help him."

"That won't last long. James Laurence is a crotchety oldfellow and not to be depended on. So you intend to marry a manwithout money, position, or business, and go on working harderthan you do now, when you might be comfortable all your daysby minding me and doing better? I thought you had more sense,Meg."

"I couldn't do better if I waited half my life! John isgood and wise, he's got heaps of talent, he's willing to workand sure to get on, he's so energetic and brave. Everyone likesand respects him, and I'm proud to think he cares for me, thoughI'm so poor and young and silly," said Meg, looking prettier thanever in her earnestness.

"He knows you have got rich relations, child. That's thesecret of his liking, I suspect."

"Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is abovesuch meanness, and I won't listen to you a minute if you talk so,"cried Meg indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice ofthe old lady's suspicions. "My John wouldn't marry for money, anymore than I would. We are willing to work and we mean to wait. I'mnot afraid of being poor, for I've been happy so far, and I know Ishall be with him because he loves me, and I . . ."

Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn'tmade up her mind, that she had told 'her John' to go away, and thathe might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks.

Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on havingher pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl'shappy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour.

"Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a willfulchild, and you've lost more than you know by this piece of folly.No, I won't stop. I'm disappointed in you, and haven't spirits tosee your father now. Don't expect anything from me when you aremarried. Your Mr. Brooke's friends must take care of you. I'm donewith you forever."

And slamming the door in Meg's face, Aunt March drove off inhigh dudgeon. She seemed to take all the girl's courage with her,for when left alone, Meg stood for a moment, undecided whether tolaugh or cry. Before she could make up her mind, she was takenpossession of by Mr. Brooke, who said all in one breath, "I couldn'thelp hearing, Meg. Thank you for defending me, and Aunt March forproving that you do care for me a little bit."

"I didn't know how much till she abused you," began Meg.

"And I needn't go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, dear?"

Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speechand the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either,and disgraced herself forever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering,"Yes, John," and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat.

Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softlydownstairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and hearing nosound within, nodded and smiled with a satisfied expression, sayingto herself, "She has seen him away as we planned, and that affairis settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it."

But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed uponthe threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring withher mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going in to exult overa fallen enemy and to praise a strong-minded sister for thebanishment of an objectionable lover, it certainly was a shockto behold the aforesaid enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with thestrongminded sister enthroned upon his knee and wearing an expression of the most abject submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp, as if a coldshower bath had suddenly fallen upon her, for such an unexpectedturning of the tables actually took her breath away. At the oddsound the lovers turned and saw her. Meg jumped up, looking bothproud and shy, but 'that man', as Jo called him, actually laughedand said coolly, as he kissed the astonished newcomer, "Sister Jo,congratulate us!"

That was adding insult to injury, it was altogether too much,and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanishedwithout a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids byexclaiming tragically as she burst into the room, "Oh, do somebodygo down quick! John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!"

Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed, and casting herselfupon the bed, Jo cried and scolded tempestuously as she told the awfulnews to Beth and Amy. The little girls, however, considered it amost agreeable and interesting event, and Jo got little comfort fromthem, so she went up to her refuge in the garret, and confided hertroubles to the rats.

Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that afternoon, buta great deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished hisfriends by the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit,told his plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as hewanted it.

The tea bell rang before he had finished describing the paradisewhich he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper,both looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal.Amy was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity, Bethbeamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed theyoung couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectlyevident Aunt March was right in calling them as 'unworldly as a pairof babies'. No one ate much, but everyone looked very happy, and theold room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance ofthe family began there.

"You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?"said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in a sketchshe was planning to make.

"No, I'm sure I can't. How much has happened since I said that!It seems a year ago," answered Meg, who was in a blissful dreamlifted far above such common things as bread and butter.

"The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I ratherthink the changes have begun," said Mrs. March. "In most familiesthere comes, now and then, a year full of events. This has been sucha one, but it ends well, after all."

"Hope the next will end better," muttered Jo, who found it veryhard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face, for Jo loveda few persons very dearly and dreaded to have their affection lostor lessened in any way.

"I hope the third year from this will end better. I mean itshall, if I live to work out my plans," said Mr. Brooke, smiling atMeg, as if everything had become possible to him now.

"Doesn't it seem very long to wait?" asked Amy, who was in ahurry for the wedding.

"I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seemsa short time to me," answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her facenever seen there before.

"You have only to wait, I am to do the work," said John beginninghis labors by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression whichcaused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself with an airof relief as the front door banged, "Here comes Laurie. Now weshall have some sensible conversation."

But Jo was mistaken, for Laurie came prancing in, overflowingwith good spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for 'Mrs.John Brooke', and evidently laboring under the delusion that thewhole affair had been brought about by his excellent management.

"I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does,for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's donethough the sky falls," said Laurie, when he had presented hisoffering and his congratulations.

"Much obliged for that recommendation. I take it as a goodomen for the future and invite you to my wedding on the spot,"answered Mr. Brooke, who felt at peace with all mankind, even hismischievous pupil.

"I'll come if I'm at the ends of the earth, for the sight ofJo's face alone on that occasion would be worth a long journey.You don't look festive, ma'am, what's the matter?" asked Laurie,following her into a corner of the parlor, whither all had adjournedto greet Mr. Laurence.

"I don't approve of the match, but I've made up my mind to bearit, and shall not say a word against it," said Jo solemnly. "Youcan't know how hard it is for me to give up Meg," she continuedwith a little quiver in her voice.

"You don't give her up. You only go halves," said Laurieconsolingly.

"It can never be the same again. I've lost my dearest friend,"sighed Jo.

"You've got me, anyhow. I'm not good for much, I know, butI'll stand by you, Jo, all the days of my life. Upon my word I will!" and Laurie meant what he said.

"I know you will, and I'm ever so much obliged. You are alwaysa great comfort to me, Teddy," returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands.

"Well, now, don't be dismal, there's a good fellow. It's allright you see. Meg is happy, Brooke will fly round and get settledimmediately, Grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jollyto see Meg in her own little house. We'll have capital times aftershe is gone, for I shall be through college before long, and thenwe'll go abroad on some nice trip or other. Wouldn't that console you?"

"I rather think it would, but there's no knowing what may happenin three years," said Jo thoughtfully.

"That's true. Don't you wish you could take a look forward andsee where we shall all be then? I do," returned Laurie.

"I think not, for I might see something sad, and everyone looksso happy now, I don't believe they could be much improved." And Jo'seyes went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for theprospect was a pleasant one.

Father and Mother sat together, quietly reliving the firstchapter of the romance which for them began some twenty years ago.Amy was drawing the lovers, who sat apart in a beautiful world oftheir own, the light of which touched their faces with a grace thelittle artist could not copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerilywith her old friend, who held her little hand as if he felt that itpossessed the power to lead him along the peaceful way she walked.Jo lounged in her favorite low seat, with the grave quiet look whichbest became her, and Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, hischin on a level with her curly head, smiled with his friendliestaspect, and nodded at her in the long glass which reflected them both.

LITTLE WOMEN PART 2

In order that we may start afresh and go to Meg's wedding . . .