<p class="h2"><SPAN name="XIV" id="XIV"></SPAN>XIV.</p>
<p class="h2a">SECRETS.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Jo</span> was very busy in the garret, for the October days began to grow
chilly, and the afternoons were short. For two or three hours the sun
lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa,
writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before her,
while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams overhead, accompanied
by his oldest son, a fine young fellow, who was evidently very
proud of his whiskers. Quite absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away
till the last page was filled, when she signed her name with a flourish,
and threw down her pen, exclaiming,—</p>
<p class="indent">"There, I've done my best! If this won't suit I shall have to wait
till I can do better."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 185]</span>
Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript carefully through,
making dashes here and there, and putting in many exclamation
points, which looked like little balloons; then she tied it up with a
smart red ribbon, and sat a minute looking at it with a sober, wistful
expression, which plainly showed how earnest her work had been.
Jo's desk up here was an old tin kitchen, which hung against the wall.
In it she kept her papers and a few books, safely shut away from
Scrabble, who, being likewise of a literary turn, was fond of making a
circulating library of such books as were left in his way, by eating the
leaves. From this tin receptacle Jo produced another manuscript;
and, putting both in her pocket, crept quietly down stairs, leaving her
friends to nibble her pens and taste her ink.</p>
<p class="indent">She put on her hat and jacket as noiselessly as possible, and, going
to the back entry window, got out upon the roof of a low porch, swung
herself down to the grassy bank, and took a roundabout way to the
road. Once there, she composed herself, hailed a passing omnibus,
and rolled away to town, looking very merry and mysterious.</p>
<p class="indent">If any one had been watching her, he would have thought her
movements decidedly peculiar; for, on alighting, she went off at a
great pace till she reached a certain number in a certain busy street;
having found the place with some difficulty, she went into the doorway,
looked up the dirty stairs, and, after standing stock still a minute,
suddenly dived into the street, and walked away as rapidly as she
came. This manœuvre she repeated several times, to the great amusement
of a black-eyed young gentleman lounging in the window of a
building opposite. On returning for the third time, Jo gave herself a
shake, pulled her hat over her eyes, and walked up the stairs, looking
as if she were going to have all her teeth out.</p>
<p class="indent">There was a dentist's sign, among others, which adorned the
entrance, and, after staring a moment at the pair of artificial jaws
which slowly opened and shut to draw attention to a fine set of teeth,
the young gentleman put on his coat, took his hat, and went down to
post himself in the opposite doorway, saying, with a smile and a
shiver,—</p>
<p class="indent">"It's like her to come alone, but if she has a bad time she'll need
some one to help her home."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 186]</span>
In ten minutes Jo came running down stairs with a very red face,
and the general appearance of a person who had just passed through
a trying ordeal of some sort. When she saw the young gentleman she
looked anything but pleased, and passed him with a nod; but he
followed, asking with an air of sympathy,—</p>
<p class="indent">"Did you have a bad time?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not very."</p>
<p class="indent">"You got through quickly."</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, thank goodness!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Why did you go alone?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Didn't want any one to know."</p>
<p class="indent">"You're the oddest fellow I ever saw. How many did you have
out?"</p>
<p class="indent">Jo looked at her friend as if she did not understand him; then
began to laugh, as if mightily amused at something.</p>
<p class="indent">"There are two which I want to have come out, but I must wait
a week."</p>
<p class="indent">"What are you laughing at? You are up to some mischief, Jo,"
said Laurie, looking mystified.</p>
<p class="indent">"So are you. What were you doing, sir, up in that billiard saloon?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Begging your pardon, ma'am, it wasn't a billiard saloon, but a
gymnasium, and I was taking a lesson in fencing."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm glad of that."</p>
<p class="indent">"Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"You can teach me, and then when we play Hamlet, you can be
Laertes, and we'll make a fine thing of the fencing scene."</p>
<p class="indent">Laurie burst out with a hearty boy's laugh, which made several
passers-by smile in spite of themselves.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll teach you whether we play Hamlet or not; it's grand fun,
and will straighten you up capitally. But I don't believe that was
your only reason for saying 'I'm glad,' in that decided way; was it,
now?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No, I was glad that you were not in the saloon, because I hope
you never go to such places. Do you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not often."</p>
<p class="indent">"I wish you wouldn't."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 187]</span>
"It's no harm, Jo. I have billiards at home, but it's no fun unless
you have good players; so, as I'm fond of it, I come sometimes and
have a game with Ned Moffat or some of the other fellows."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, for you'll get to liking it better and better,
and will waste time and money, and grow like those dreadful
boys. I did hope you'd stay respectable, and be a satisfaction to
your friends," said Jo, shaking her head.</p>
<p class="indent">"Can't a fellow take a little innocent amusement now and then
without losing his respectability?" asked Laurie, looking nettled.</p>
<p class="indent">"That depends upon how and where he takes it. I don't like Ned
and his set, and wish you'd keep out of it. Mother won't let us have
him at our house, though he wants to come; and if you grow like him
she won't be willing to have us frolic together as we do now."</p>
<p class="indent">"Won't she?" asked Laurie anxiously.</p>
<p class="indent">"No, she can't bear fashionable young men, and she'd shut us all
up in bandboxes rather than have us associate with them."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, she needn't get out her bandboxes yet; I'm not a fashionable
party, and don't mean to be; but I do like harmless larks
now and then, don't you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, nobody minds them, so lark away, but don't get wild, will
you? or there will be an end of all our good times."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll be a double-distilled saint."</p>
<p class="indent">"I can't bear saints: just be a simple, honest, respectable boy,
and we'll never desert you. I don't know what I <i>should</i> do if you
acted like Mr. King's son; he had plenty of money, but didn't know
how to spend it, and got tipsy and gambled, and ran away, and
forged his father's name, I believe, and was altogether horrid."</p>
<p class="indent">"You think I'm likely to do the same? Much obliged."</p>
<p class="indent">"No, I don't—oh, <i>dear</i>, no!—but I hear people talking about
money being such a temptation, and I sometimes wish you were
poor; I shouldn't worry then."</p>
<p class="indent">"Do you worry about me, Jo?"</p>
<p class="indent">"A little, when you look moody or discontented, as you sometimes
do; for you've got such a strong will, if you once get started wrong,
I'm afraid it would be hard to stop you."</p>
<p class="indent">Laurie walked in silence a few minutes, and Jo watched him, wishing
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 188]</span>
she had held her tongue, for his eyes looked angry, though his
lips still smiled as if at her warnings.</p>
<p class="indent">"Are you going to deliver lectures all the way home?" he asked
presently.</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course not; why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Because if you are, I'll take a 'bus; if you are not, I'd like to
walk with you, and tell you something very interesting."</p>
<p class="indent">"I won't preach any more, and I'd like to hear the news immensely."</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well, then; come on. It's a secret, and if I tell you, you
must tell me yours."</p>
<p class="indent">"I haven't got any," began Jo, but stopped suddenly, remembering
that she had.</p>
<p class="indent">"You know you have,—you can't hide anything; so up and 'fess,
or I won't tell," cried Laurie.</p>
<p class="indent">"Is your secret a nice one?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, isn't it! all about people you know, and such fun! You
ought to hear it, and I've been aching to tell it this long time.
Come, you begin."</p>
<p class="indent">"You'll not say anything about it at home, will you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not a word."</p>
<p class="indent">"And you won't tease me in private?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I never tease."</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, you do; you get everything you want out of people. I don't
know how you do it, but you are a born wheedler."</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you; fire away."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, I've left two stories with a newspaper man, and he's to
give his answer next week," whispered Jo, in her confidant's ear.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="b080.png" id="b080.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b080.png" width-obs="320" height-obs="700" alt="Hurrah for Miss March" title="Hurrah for Miss March" /></div>
<p class="indent">"Hurrah for Miss March, the celebrated American authoress!"
cried Laurie, throwing up his hat and catching it again, to the great
delight of two ducks, four cats, five hens, and half a dozen Irish children;
for they were out of the city now.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hush! It won't come to anything, I dare say; but I couldn't
rest till I had tried, and I said nothing about it, because I didn't
want any one else to be disappointed."</p>
<p class="indent">"It won't fail. Why, Jo, your stories are works of Shakespeare,
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 189]</span>
compared to half the rubbish that is published every day. Won't it
be fun to see them in print; and sha'n't we feel proud of our authoress?"</p>
<p class="indent">Jo's eyes sparkled, for it is always pleasant to be believed in; and
a friend's praise is always sweeter than a dozen newspaper puffs.</p>
<p class="indent">"Where's <i>your</i> secret? Play fair, Teddy, or I'll never believe
you again," she said, trying to extinguish the brilliant hopes that
blazed up at a word of encouragement.</p>
<p class="indent">"I may get into a scrape for
telling; but I didn't promise
not to, so I will, for I never feel
easy in my mind till I've told
you any plummy bit of news I
get. I know where Meg's glove
is."</p>
<p class="indent">"Is that all?" said Jo, looking
disappointed, as Laurie nodded
and twinkled, with a face
full of mysterious intelligence.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's quite enough for the
present, as you'll agree when I
tell you where it is."</p>
<p class="indent">"Tell, then."</p>
<p class="indent">Laurie bent, and whispered
three words in Jo's ear, which
produced a comical change.
She stood and stared at him for
a minute, looking both surprised
and displeased, then walked on,
saying sharply, "How do you
know?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Saw it."</p>
<p class="indent">"Where?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Pocket."</p>
<p class="indent">"All this time?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 190]</span>
"Yes; isn't that romantic?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No, it's horrid."</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't you like it?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course I don't. It's ridiculous; it won't be allowed. My
patience! what would Meg say?"</p>
<p class="indent">"You are not to tell any one; mind that."</p>
<p class="indent">"I didn't promise."</p>
<p class="indent">"That was understood, and I trusted you."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, I won't for the present, any way; but I'm disgusted, and
wish you hadn't told me."</p>
<p class="indent">"I thought you'd be pleased."</p>
<p class="indent">"At the idea of anybody coming to take Meg away? No, thank
you."</p>
<p class="indent">"You'll feel better about
it when somebody comes to
take you away."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'd like to see any one
try it," cried Jo fiercely.</p>
<p class="indent">"So should I!" and Laurie
chuckled at the idea.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't think secrets
agree with me; I feel rumpled
up in my mind since you
told me that," said Jo, rather
ungratefully.</p>
<p class="indent">"Race down this hill with
me, and you'll be all right,"
suggested Laurie.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <SPAN name="b081.png" id="b081.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b081.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="551" alt="Jo darted away" title="Jo darted away" /></div>
<p class="indent">No one was in sight; the
smooth road sloped invitingly
before her; and finding the
temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb
behind her, and scattering hair-pins as she ran. Laurie reached the
goal first, and was quite satisfied with the success of his treatment;
for his Atalanta came panting up, with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy
cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 191]</span>
"I wish I was a horse; then I could run for miles in this splendid
air, and not lose my breath. It was capital; but see what a guy it's
made me. Go, pick up my things, like a cherub as you are," said
Jo, dropping down under a maple-tree, which was carpeting the bank
with crimson leaves.</p>
<p class="indent">Laurie leisurely departed to recover the lost property, and Jo bundled
up her braids, hoping no one would pass by till she was tidy
again. But some one did pass, and who should it be but Meg, looking
particularly ladylike in her state and festival suit, for she had
been making calls.</p>
<p class="indent">"What in the world are you doing here?" she asked, regarding
her dishevelled sister with well-bred surprise.</p>
<p class="indent">"Getting leaves," meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful
she had just swept up.</p>
<p class="indent">"And hair-pins," added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo's
lap. "They grow on this road, Meg; so do combs and brown straw
hats."</p>
<p class="indent">"You have been running, Jo; how could you? When <i>will</i> you
stop such romping ways?" said Meg reprovingly, as she settled her
cuffs, and smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties.</p>
<p class="indent">"Never till I'm stiff and old, and have to use a crutch. Don't try
to make me grow up before my time, Meg: it's hard enough to have
you change all of a sudden; let me be a little girl as long as I can."</p>
<p class="indent">As she spoke, Jo bent over the leaves to hide the trembling of her
lips; for lately she had felt that Margaret was fast getting to be a
woman, and Laurie's secret made her dread the separation which
must surely come some time, and now seemed very near. He saw
the trouble in her face, and drew Meg's attention from it by asking
quickly, "Where have you been calling, all so fine?"</p>
<p class="indent">"At the Gardiners', and Sallie has been telling me all about Belle
Moffat's wedding. It was very splendid, and they have gone to
spend the winter in Paris. Just think how delightful that must be!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Do you envy her, Meg?" said Laurie.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm afraid I do."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm glad of it!" muttered Jo, tying on her hat with a jerk.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 192]</span>
"Why?" asked Meg, looking surprised.</p>
<p class="indent">"Because if you care much about riches, you will never go and
marry a poor man," said Jo, frowning at Laurie, who was mutely
warning her to mind what she said.</p>
<p class="indent">"I shall never '<i>go</i> and marry' any one," observed Meg, walking
on with great dignity, while the others followed, laughing, whispering,
skipping stones, and "behaving like children," as Meg said to herself,
though she might have been tempted to join them if she had not had
her best dress on.</p>
<p class="indent">For a week or two, Jo behaved so queerly that her sisters were
quite bewildered. She rushed to the door when the postman rang;
was rude to Mr. Brooke whenever they met; would sit looking at
Meg with a woe-begone face, occasionally jumping up to shake, and
then to kiss her, in a very mysterious manner; Laurie and she were
always making signs to one another, and talking about "Spread Eagles,"
till the girls declared they had both lost their wits. On the
second Saturday after Jo got out of the window, Meg, as she sat
sewing at her window, was scandalized by the sight of Laurie chasing Jo
all over the garden, and finally capturing her in Amy's bower. What
went on there, Meg could not see; but shrieks of laughter were heard,
followed by the murmur of voices and a great flapping of newspapers.</p>
<p class="indent">"What shall we do with that girl? She never <i>will</i> behave like a
young lady," sighed Meg, as she watched the race with a disapproving
face.</p>
<p class="indent">"I hope she won't; she is so funny and dear as she is," said Beth,
who had never betrayed that she was a little hurt at Jo's having
secrets with any one but her.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's very trying, but we never can make her <i>commy la fo</i>," added
Amy, who sat making some new frills for herself, with her curls tied
up in a very becoming way,—two agreeable things, which made her
feel unusually elegant and ladylike.</p>
<p class="indent">In a few minutes Jo bounced in, laid herself on the sofa, and affected
to read.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b082.png" id="b082.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b082.png" width-obs="700" height-obs="384" alt="Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read" title="Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read" /></div>
<p class="indent">"Have you anything interesting there?" asked Meg, with condescension.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 193]</span>
"Nothing but a story; won't amount to much, I guess," returned
Jo, carefully keeping the name of the paper out of sight.</p>
<p class="indent">"You'd better read it aloud; that will amuse us and keep you out
of mischief," said Amy, in her most grown-up tone.</p>
<p class="indent">"What's the name?" asked Beth, wondering why Jo kept her
face behind the sheet.</p>
<p class="indent">"The Rival Painters."</p>
<p class="indent">"That sounds well; read it," said Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">With a loud "Hem!" and a long breath, Jo began to read very
fast. The girls listened with interest, for the tale was romantic, and
somewhat pathetic, as most of the characters died in the end.</p>
<p class="indent">"I like that about the splendid picture," was Amy's approving
remark, as Jo paused.</p>
<p class="indent">"I prefer the lovering part. Viola and Angelo are two of our
favorite names; isn't that queer?" said Meg, wiping her eyes, for
the "lovering part" was tragical.</p>
<p class="indent">"Who wrote it?" asked Beth, who had caught a glimpse of Jo's
face.</p>
<p class="indent">The reader suddenly sat up, cast away the paper, displaying a
flushed countenance, and, with a funny mixture of solemnity and excitement,
replied in a loud voice, "Your sister."</p>
<p class="indent">"You?" cried Meg, dropping her work.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 194]</span>
"It's very good," said Amy critically.</p>
<p class="indent">"I knew it! I knew it! O my Jo, I <i>am</i> so proud!" and Beth
ran to hug her sister, and exult over this splendid success.</p>
<p class="indent">Dear me, how delighted they all were, to be sure! how Meg
wouldn't believe it till she saw the words, "Miss Josephine March,"
actually printed in the paper; how graciously Amy criticised the artistic
parts of the story, and offered hints for a sequel, which unfortunately
couldn't be carried out, as the hero and heroine were dead;
how Beth got excited, and skipped and sung with joy; how Hannah
came in to exclaim "Sakes alive, well I never!" in great astonishment
at "that Jo's doin's;" how proud Mrs. March was when she
knew it; how Jo laughed, with tears in her eyes, as she declared she
might as well be a peacock and done with it; and how the "Spread
Eagle" might be said to flap his wings triumphantly over the House
of March, as the paper passed from hand to hand.</p>
<p class="indent">"Tell us all about it." "When did it come?" "How much did you
get for it?" "What <i>will</i> father say?" "Won't Laurie laugh?" cried
the family, all in one breath, as they clustered about Jo; for these foolish,
affectionate people made a jubilee of every little household joy.</p>
<p class="indent">"Stop jabbering, girls, and I'll tell you everything," said Jo, wondering
if Miss Burney felt any grander over her "Evelina" than she
did over her "Rival Painters." Having told how she disposed of
her tales, Jo added, "And when I went to get my answer, the man
said he liked them both, but didn't pay beginners, only let them
print in his paper, and noticed the stories. It was good practice, he
said; and when the beginners improved, any one would pay. So I
let him have the two stories, and to-day this was sent to me, and Laurie
caught me with it, and insisted on seeing it, so I let him; and he
said it was good, and I shall write more, and he's going to get the
next paid for, and I <i>am</i> so happy, for in time I may be able to support
myself and help the girls."</p>
<p class="indent">Jo's breath gave out here; and, wrapping her head in the paper,
she bedewed her little story with a few natural tears; for to be independent,
and earn the praise of those she loved were the dearest
wishes of her heart, and this seemed to be the first step toward that
happy end.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 195]</span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />