Jack and Jill, Louisa May Alcott [books to read for self improvement txt] 📗
- Author: Louisa May Alcott
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“You can use your own dress. I don't see why you should have everything,” answered Susy, who was at the mirror, putting a wreath of scarlet flowers on her red head, bound to be gay since she could not be pretty.
“I think I'd better keep the plume, as I haven't anything else that is nice, and I'm afraid Emma wouldn't like me to lend it,” added Annette, who was disappointed that Mabel was not to be the Beauty.
“I don't intend to act at all!” declared Mabel, beginning to braid up her hair with a jerk, out of humor with the whole affair.
“I think you are a set of cross, selfish girls to back out and keep your nice things just because you can't all have the best part. I'm ashamed of you!” scolded Molly, standing by Merry, who was sadly surveying her mother's old purple silk, which looked like brown in the evening.
“I'm going to have Miss Delano's red brocade for the Queen, and I shall ask her for the yellow-satin dress for Merry when I go to get mine, and tell her how mean you are,” said Juliet, frowning under her gilt-paper crown as she swept about in a red table-cloth for train till the brocade arrived.
“Perhaps you'd like to have Mabel cut her hair off, so Merry can have that, too?” cried Susy, with whom hair was a tender point.
“Light hair isn't wanted, so Ju will have to give hers, or you'd better borrow Miss Bat's frisette,” added Mabel, with a scornful laugh.
“I just wish Miss Bat was here to give you girls a good shaking. Do let someone else have a chance at the glass, you peacock!” exclaimed Molly Loo, pushing Susy aside to arrange her own blue turban, out of which she plucked the pink pompon to give Merry.
“Don't quarrel about me. I shall do well enough, and the scarlet shawl will hide my ugly dress,” said Merry, from the corner, where she sat waiting for her turn at the mirror.
As she spoke of the shawl her eye went in search of it, and something that she saw in the other room put her own disappointment out of her head. Jill lay there all alone, rather tired with the lively chatter, and the effort it cost her not to repine at being shut out from the great delight of dressing up and acting.
Her eyes were closed, her net was off, and all the pretty black curls lay about her shoulders as one hand idly pulled them out, while the other rested on the red shawl, as if she loved its glowing color and soft texture. She was humming to herself the little song of the dove and the donjon, and something in the plaintive voice, the solitary figure, went straight to Merry's gentle heart.
“Poor Jilly can't have any of the fun,” was the first thought; then came a second, that made Merry start and smile, and in a minute whisper so that all but Jill could hear her, “Girls, I'm not going to be the Princess. But I've thought of a splendid one!”
“Who?” asked the rest, staring at one another, much surprised by this sudden announcement.
“Hush! Speak low, or you will spoil it all. Look in the Bird Room, and tell me if that isn't a prettier Princess than I could make?”
They all looked, but no one spoke, and Merry added, with sweet eagerness, “It is the only thing poor Jill can be, and it would make her so happy; Jack would like it, and it would please every one, I know. Perhaps she will never walk again, so we ought to be very good to her, poor dear.”
The last words, whispered with a little quiver in the voice, settled the matter better than hours of talking, for girls are tender-hearted creatures, and not one of these but would have gladly given all the pretty things she owned to see Jill dancing about well and strong again. Like a ray of sunshine the kind thought touched and brightened every face; envy, impatience, vanity, and discontent flew away like imps at the coming of the good fairy, and with one accord they all cried,—
“It will be lovely; let us go and tell her!”
Forgetting their own adornment, out they trooped after Merry, who ran to the sofa, saying, with a smile which was reflected in all the other faces, “Jill, dear, we have chosen another Princess, and I know you'll like her.”
“Who is it?” asked Jill, languidly, opening her eyes without the least suspicion of the truth.
“I'll show you;” and taking the cherished veil from her own head, Merry dropped it like a soft cloud over Jill; Annette added the long plume, Susy laid the white silk dress about her, while Juliet and Mabel lifted the scarlet shawl to spread it over the foot of the sofa, and Molly tore the last ornament from her turban, a silver star, to shine on Jill's breast. Then they all took hands and danced round the couch, singing, as they laughed at her astonishment, “There she is! There she is! Princess Jill as fine as you please!
“Do you really mean it? But can I? Is it fair? How sweet of you! Come here and let me hug you all!” cried Jill, in a rapture at the surprise, and the pretty way in which it was done.
The grand scene on the Twenty-second was very fine, indeed; but the little tableau of that minute was infinitely better, though no one saw it, as Jill tried to gather them all in her arms, for that nosegay of girlish faces was the sweeter, because each one had sacrificed her own little vanity to please a friend, and her joy was reflected in the eyes that sparkled round the happy Princess.
“Oh, you dear, kind things, to think of me and give me all your best clothes! I never shall forget it, and I'll do anything for you. Yes! I'll write and ask Mrs. Piper to lend us her ermine cloak for the king. See if I don't!”
Shrieks of delight hailed this noble offer, for no one had dared to borrow the much-coveted mantle, but all agreed that the old lady would not refuse Jill. It was astonishing how smoothly everything went after this, for each was eager to help, admire, and suggest, in the friendliest way; and when all were dressed, the boys found a party of very gay ladies waiting for them round the couch, where lay the brightest little Princess ever seen.
“Oh, Jack, I'm to act! Wasn't it dear of the girls to choose me? Don't they look lovely? Aren't you glad?” cried Jill, as the lads stared and the lasses blushed and smiled, well pleased at the frank admiration the boyish faces showed.
“I guess I am! You are a set of trumps, and we'll give you a first-class spread after the play to pay for it. Won't we, fellows?” answered Jack, much gratified, and feeling that now he could act his own part capitally.
“We will. It was a handsome thing to do, and we think well of you for it. Hey, Gus?” and Frank nodded approvingly at all, though he looked only at Annette.
“As king of this crowd, I call it to order,” said Gus, retiring to the throne, where Juliet sat laughing in her red table-cloth.
“We'll have 'The Fair One with Golden Locks' next time; I promise you that,” whispered Ed to Mabel, whose shining hair streamed over her blue dress like a mantle of gold-colored silk.
“Girls are pretty nice things, aren't they? Kind of 'em to take Jill in. Don't Molly look fine, though?” and Grif's black eyes twinkled as he planned to pin her skirts to Merry's at the first opportunity.
“Susy looks as gay as a feather-duster. I like her. She never snubs a fellow,” said Joe, much impressed with the splendor of the court ladies.
The boys' costumes were not yet ready, but they posed well, and all had a merry time, ending with a game of blind-man's-buff, in which every one caught the right person in the most singular way, and all agreed as they went home in the moonlight that it had been an unusually jolly meeting.
So the fairy play woke the sleeping beauty that lies in all of us, and makes us lovely when we rouse it with a kiss of unselfish good-will, for, though the girls did not know it then, they had adorned themselves with pearls more precious than the waxen ones they decked their Princess in.
Chapter XI. “Down Brakes”
The greatest people have their weak points, and the best-behaved boys now and then yield to temptation and get into trouble, as everybody knows. Frank was considered a remarkably well-bred and proper lad, and rather prided himself on his good reputation, for he never got into scrapes like the other fellows. Well, hardly ever, for we must confess that at rare intervals his besetting sin overcame his prudence, and he proved himself an erring, human boy. Steam-engines had been his idols for years, and they alone could lure him from the path of virtue. Once, in trying to investigate the mechanism of a toy specimen, which had its little boiler and ran about whistling and puffing in the most delightful way, he nearly set the house afire by the sparks that dropped on the straw carpet. Another time, in trying experiments with the kitchen tea-kettle, he blew himself up, and the scars of that explosion he still carried on his hands.
He was long past such childish amusements now, but his favorite haunt was the engine-house of the new railroad, where he observed the habits of his pets with never-failing interest, and cultivated the good-will of stokers and brakemen till they allowed him many liberties, and were rather flattered by the admiration expressed for their iron horses by a young gentleman who liked them better even than his Greek and Latin.
There was not much business doing on this road as yet, and the two cars of the passenger-trains were often nearly empty, though full freight-trains rolled from the factory to the main road, of which this was only a branch. So things went on in a leisurely manner, which gave Frank many opportunities of pursuing his favorite pastime. He soon knew all about No. 11, his pet engine, and had several rides on it with Bill, the engineer, so that he felt at home there, and privately resolved that when he was a rich man he would have a road of his own, and run trains as often as he liked.
Gus took less interest than his friend in the study of steam, but usually accompanied him when he went over after school to disport himself in the engine-house, interview the stoker, or see if there was anything new in the way of brakes.
One afternoon they found No. 11 on the side-track, puffing away as if enjoying a quiet smoke before starting. No cars were attached, and no driver was to be seen, for Bill was off with the other men behind the station-house, helping the expressman, whose horse had backed down a bank and upset the wagon.
“Good chance for a look at the old lady,” said Frank, speaking of the engine as Bill did, and jumping aboard with great satisfaction, followed by Gus.
“I'd give ten dollars if I could run her up to the bend and back,” he added, fondly touching the bright brass knobs and glancing at the fire with a critical eye.
“You couldn't do it alone,” answered Gus, sitting down on the grimy little perch, willing to indulge his mate's amiable weakness.
“Give me leave to try? Steam is up, and I could do it as easy as not;” and Frank put his hand on the throttle-valve, as if daring Gus to give the word.
“Fire up and make her hum!” laughed Gus, quoting Bill's frequent order to
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