<p class="h2"><SPAN name="XVII" id="XVII"></SPAN>XVII.</p>
<p class="h2a">LITTLE FAITHFUL.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">For</span> a week the amount of virtue in the old house would have supplied
the neighborhood. It was really amazing, for every one seemed
in a heavenly frame of mind, and self-denial was all the fashion.
Relieved of their first anxiety about their father, the girls insensibly
relaxed their praiseworthy efforts a little, and began to fall back into
the old ways. They did not forget their motto, but hoping and keeping
busy seemed to grow easier; and after such tremendous exertions,
they felt that Endeavor deserved a holiday, and gave it a good many.</p>
<p class="indent">Jo caught a bad cold through neglect to cover the shorn head
enough, and was ordered to stay at home till she was better, for Aunt
March didn't like to hear people read with colds in their heads. Jo
liked this, and after an energetic rummage from garret to cellar, subsided
on the sofa to nurse her cold with arsenicum and books. Amy
found that housework and art did not go well together, and returned
to her mud pies. Meg went daily to her pupils, and sewed, or thought
she did, at home, but much time was spent in writing long letters to
her mother, or reading the Washington despatches over and over.
Beth kept on, with only slight relapses into idleness or grieving. All
the little duties were faithfully done each day, and many of her sisters'
also, for they were forgetful, and the house seemed like a clock whose
pendulum was gone a-visiting. When her heart got heavy with longings
for mother or fears for father, she went away into a certain
closet, hid her face in the folds of a certain dear old gown, and made
her little moan and prayed her little prayer quietly by herself.
Nobody knew what cheered her up after a sober fit, but every one
felt how sweet and helpful Beth was, and fell into a way of going to
her for comfort or advice in their small affairs.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 217]</span>
All were unconscious that this experience was a test of character;
and, when the first excitement was over, felt that they had done well,
and deserved praise. So they did; but their mistake was in ceasing
to do well, and they learned this lesson through much anxiety and
regret.</p>
<p class="indent">"Meg, I wish you'd go and see the Hummels; you know mother
told us not to forget them," said Beth, ten days after Mrs. March's
departure.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm too tired to go this afternoon," replied Meg, rocking comfortably
as she sewed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Can't you, Jo?" asked Beth.</p>
<p class="indent">"Too stormy for me with my cold."</p>
<p class="indent">"I thought it was almost well."</p>
<p class="indent">"It's well enough for me to go out with Laurie, but not well
enough to go to the Hummels'," said Jo, laughing, but looking a little
ashamed of her inconsistency.</p>
<p class="indent">"Why don't you go yourself?" asked Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"I <i>have</i> been every day, but the baby is sick, and I don't know
what to do for it. Mrs. Hummel goes away to work, and Lottchen
takes care of it; but it gets sicker and sicker, and I think you or
Hannah ought to go."</p>
<p class="indent">Beth spoke earnestly, and Meg promised she would go to-morrow.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ask Hannah for some nice little mess, and take it round, Beth;
the air will do you good," said Jo, adding apologetically, "I'd go,
but I want to finish my writing."</p>
<p class="indent">"My head aches and I'm tired, so I thought may be some of you
would go," said Beth.</p>
<p class="indent">"Amy will be in presently, and she will run down for us," suggested
Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, I'll rest a little and wait for her."</p>
<p class="indent">So Beth lay down on the sofa, the others returned to their work,
and the Hummels were forgotten. An hour passed: Amy did not
come; Meg went to her room to try on a new dress; Jo was absorbed
in her story, and Hannah was sound asleep before the kitchen fire,
when Beth quietly put on her hood, filled her basket with odds and
ends for the poor children, and went out into the chilly air, with a
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 218]</span>
heavy head, and a grieved look in her patient eyes. It was late when
she came back, and no one saw her creep upstairs and shut herself
into her mother's room. Half an hour after Jo went to "mother's
closet" for something, and there found Beth sitting on the medicine
chest, looking very grave, with red eyes, and a camphor-bottle in her
hand.</p>
<p class="indent">"Christopher Columbus! What's the matter?" cried Jo, as Beth
put out her hand as if to warn her off, and asked quickly,—</p>
<p class="indent">"You've had the scarlet fever, haven't you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Years ago, when Meg did. Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Then I'll tell you. Oh, Jo, the baby's dead!"</p>
<p class="indent">"What baby?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Mrs. Hummel's; it died in my lap before she got home," cried
Beth, with a sob.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 219]</span>
"My poor dear, how dreadful for you! I ought to have gone,"
said Jo, taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother's
big chair, with a remorseful face.</p>
<p class="indent">"It wasn't dreadful, Jo, only so sad! I saw in a minute that it was
sicker, but Lottchen said her mother had gone for a doctor, so I took
baby and let Lotty rest. It seemed asleep, but all of a sudden it gave
a little cry, and trembled, and then lay very still. I tried to warm its
feet, and Lotty gave it some milk, but it didn't stir, and I knew it
was dead."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b093.png" id="b093.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b093.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="403" alt="It didn't stir, and I knew it was dead" title="It didn't stir, and I knew it was dead" /></div>
<p class="indent">"Don't cry, dear! What did you do?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I just sat and held it softly till Mrs. Hummel came with the doctor.
He said it was dead, and looked at Heinrich and Minna, who
have got sore throats. 'Scarlet fever, ma'am. Ought to have called
me before,' he said crossly. Mrs. Hummel told him she was poor, and
had tried to cure baby herself, but now it was too late, and she could
only ask him to help the others, and trust to charity for his pay. He
smiled then, and was kinder; but it was very sad, and I cried with
them till he turned round, all of a sudden, and told me to go home
and take belladonna right away, or I'd have the fever."</p>
<p class="indent">"No, you won't!" cried Jo, hugging her close, with a frightened
look. "O Beth, if you should be sick I never could forgive myself!
What <i>shall</i> we do?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't be frightened, I guess I shan't have it badly. I looked in
mother's book, and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat, and
queer feelings like mine, so I did take some belladonna, and I feel
better," said Beth, laying her cold hands on her hot forehead, and
trying to look well.</p>
<p class="indent">"If mother was only at home!" exclaimed Jo, seizing the book,
and feeling that Washington was an immense way off. She read a
page, looked at Beth, felt her head, peeped into her throat, and then
said gravely; "You've been over the baby every day for more than a
week, and among the others who are going to have it; so I'm afraid
<i>you</i> are going to have it, Beth. I'll call Hannah, she knows all about
sickness."</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't let Amy come; she never had it, and I should hate to give
it to her. Can't you and Meg have it over again?" asked Beth,
anxiously.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 220]</span>
"I guess not; don't care if I do; serve me right, selfish pig, to let
you go, and stay writing rubbish myself!" muttered Jo, as she went to
consult Hannah.</p>
<p class="indent">The good soul was wide awake in a minute, and took the lead
at once, assuring Jo that there was no need to worry; every one had
scarlet fever, and, if rightly treated, nobody died,—all of which Jo
believed, and felt much relieved as they went up to call Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now I'll tell you what we'll do," said Hannah, when she had
examined and questioned Beth; "we will have Dr. Bangs, just to take
a look at you, dear, and see that we start right; then we'll send Amy
off to Aunt March's, for a spell, to keep her out of harm's way, and
one of you girls can stay at home and amuse Beth for a day or two."</p>
<p class="indent">"I shall stay, of course; I'm oldest," began Meg, looking anxious
and self-reproachful.</p>
<p class="indent">"<i>I</i> shall, because it's my fault she is sick; I told mother I'd do
the errands, and I haven't," said Jo decidedly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Which will you have, Beth? there ain't no need of but one," said
Hannah.</p>
<p class="indent">"Jo, please;" and Beth leaned her head against her sister, with a
contented look, which effectually settled that point.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll go and tell Amy," said Meg, feeling a little hurt, yet rather
relieved, on the whole, for she did not like nursing, and Jo did.</p>
<p class="indent">Amy rebelled outright, and passionately declared that she had rather
have the fever than go to Aunt March. Meg reasoned, pleaded, and
commanded: all in vain. Amy protested that she would <i>not</i> go; and
Meg left her in despair, to ask Hannah what should be done. Before
she came back, Laurie walked into the parlor to find Amy sobbing,
with her head in the sofa-cushions. She told her story, expecting to
be consoled; but Laurie only put his hands in his pockets and walked
about the room, whistling softly, as he knit his brows in deep thought.
Presently he sat down beside her, and said, in his most wheedlesome
tone, "Now be a sensible little woman, and do as they say. No,
don't cry, but hear what a jolly plan I've got. You go to Aunt
March's, and I'll come and take you out every day, driving or walking,
and we'll have capital times. Won't that be better than moping
here?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 221]</span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b094.png" id="b094.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b094.png" width-obs="501" height-obs="400" alt="He sat down beside her" title="He sat down beside her" /></div>
<p class="indent">"I don't wish to be sent off as if I was in the way," began Amy,
in an injured voice.</p>
<p class="indent">"Bless your heart, child, it's to keep you well. You don't want to
be sick, do you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No, I'm sure I don't; but I dare say I shall be, for I've been
with Beth all the time."</p>
<p class="indent">"That's the very reason you ought to go away at once, so that you
may escape it. Change of air and care will keep you well, I dare
say; or, if it does not entirely, you will have the fever more lightly.
I advise you to be off as soon as you can, for scarlet fever is no joke,
miss."</p>
<p class="indent">"But it's dull at Aunt March's, and she is so cross," said Amy,
looking rather frightened.</p>
<p class="indent">"It won't be dull with me popping in every day to tell you how
Beth is, and take you out gallivanting. The old lady likes me, and
I'll be as sweet as possible to her, so she won't peck at us, whatever
we do."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 222]</span>
"Will you take me out in the trotting wagon with Puck?"</p>
<p class="indent">"On my honor as a gentleman."</p>
<p class="indent">"And come every single day?"</p>
<p class="indent">"See if I don't."</p>
<p class="indent">"And bring me back the minute Beth is well?"</p>
<p class="indent">"The identical minute."</p>
<p class="indent">"And go to the theatre, truly?"</p>
<p class="indent">"A dozen theatres, if we may."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well—I guess—I will," said Amy slowly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Good girl! Call Meg, and tell her you'll give in," said Laurie,
with an approving pat, which annoyed Amy more than the "giving
in."</p>
<p class="indent">Meg and Jo came running down to behold the miracle which had
been wrought; and Amy, feeling very precious and self-sacrificing,
promised to go, if the doctor said Beth was going to be ill.</p>
<p class="indent">"How is the little dear?" asked Laurie; for Beth was his especial
pet, and he felt more anxious about her than he liked to show.</p>
<p class="indent">"She is lying down on mother's bed, and feels better. The baby's
death troubled her, but I dare say she has only got cold. Hannah
<i>says</i> she thinks so; but she <i>looks</i> worried, and that makes me
fidgety," answered Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"What a trying world it is!" said Jo, rumpling up her hair in a
fretful sort of way. "No sooner do we get out of one trouble than
down comes another. There doesn't seem to be anything to hold on
to when mother's gone; so I'm all at sea."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, don't make a porcupine of yourself, it isn't becoming.
Settle your wig, Jo, and tell me if I shall telegraph to your mother, or
do anything?" asked Laurie, who never had been reconciled to the
loss of his friend's one beauty.</p>
<p class="indent">"That is what troubles me," said Meg. "I think we ought to tell
her if Beth is really ill, but Hannah says we mustn't, for mother can't
leave father, and it will only make them anxious. Beth won't be sick
long, and Hannah knows just what to do, and mother said we were to
mind her, so I suppose we must, but it doesn't seem quite right to me."</p>
<p class="indent">"Hum, well, I can't say; suppose you ask grandfather after the
doctor has been."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 223]</span>
"We will. Jo, go and get Dr. Bangs at once," commanded Meg;
"we can't decide anything till he has been."</p>
<p class="indent">"Stay where you are, Jo; I'm errand-boy to this establishment,"
said Laurie, taking up his cap.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm afraid you are busy," began Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"No, I've done my lessons for the day."</p>
<p class="indent">"Do you study in vacation time?" asked Jo.</p>
<p class="indent">"I follow the good example my neighbors set me," was Laurie's
answer, as he swung himself out of the room.</p>
<p class="indent">"I have great hopes of my boy," observed Jo, watching him fly
over the fence with an approving smile.</p>
<p class="indent">"He does very well—for a boy," was Meg's somewhat ungracious
answer, for the subject did not interest her.</p>
<p class="indent">Dr. Bangs came, said Beth had symptoms of the fever, but thought
she would have it lightly, though he looked sober over the Hummel
story. Amy was ordered off at once, and provided with something
to ward off danger, she departed in great state, with Jo and Laurie
as escort.</p>
<p class="indent">Aunt March received them with her usual hospitality.</p>
<p class="indent">"What do you want now?" she asked, looking sharply over her
spectacles, while the parrot, sitting on the back of her chair, called
out,—</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b095.png" id="b095.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b095.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="414" alt="What do you want now?" title="What do you want now?" /></div>
<p class="indent">"Go away. No boys allowed here."</p>
<p class="indent">Laurie retired to the window, and Jo told her story.</p>
<p class="indent">"No more than I expected, if you are allowed to go poking about
among poor folks. Amy can stay and make herself useful if she isn't
sick, which I've no doubt she will be,—looks like it now. Don't
cry, child, it worries me to hear people sniff."</p>
<p class="indent">Amy <i>was</i> on the point of crying, but Laurie slyly pulled the parrot's
tail, which caused Polly to utter an astonished croak, and call out,—</p>
<p class="indent">"Bless my boots!" in such a funny way, that she laughed instead.</p>
<p class="indent">"What do you hear from your mother?" asked the old lady gruffly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Father is much better," replied Jo, trying to keep sober.</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, is he? Well, that won't last long, I fancy; March never had
any stamina," was the cheerful reply.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ha, ha! never say die, take a pinch of snuff, good by, good by!"
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 224]</span>
squalled Polly, dancing on her perch, and clawing at the old lady's
cap as Laurie tweaked him in the rear.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird! and, Jo, you'd better
go at once; it isn't proper to be gadding about so late with a
rattle-pated boy like—"</p>
<p class="indent">"Hold your tongue, you disrespectful old bird!" cried Polly, tumbling
off the chair with a bounce, and running to peck the "rattle-pated"
boy, who was shaking with laughter at the last speech.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't think I <i>can</i> bear it, but I'll try," thought Amy, as she was
left alone with Aunt March.</p>
<p class="indent">"Get along, you fright!" screamed Polly; and at that rude speech
Amy could not restrain a sniff.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 225]</span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />