Jo’s Boys. Луиза Мэй Олкотт
like to come back, and I can say my word to them; and dear old Franz is too true ever to forget his own. But the three who are soon going out into the world again I can’t help worrying about. Emil’s good heart will keep him straight, I hope, and
A sweet little cherub sits up aloft,
To look out for the life of poor Jack.
Nat is to make his first flight, and he’s weak in spite of your strengthening influence; and Dan is still untamed. I fear it will take some hard lesson to do that.’
‘He’s a fine fellow, Jo, and I almost regret this farming project. A little polish would make a gentleman of him, and who knows what he might become here among us,’ answered Mr Laurie, leaning over Mrs Bhaer’s chair, just as he used to do years ago when they had mischievous secrets together.
‘It wouldn’t be safe, Teddy. Work and the free life he loves will make a good man of him, and that is better than any amount of polish, with the dangers an easy life in a city would bring him. We can’t change his nature—only help it to develop in the right direction. The old impulses are there, and must be controlled, or he will go wrong. I see that; but his love for us is a safeguard, and we must keep a hold on him till he is older or has a stronger tie to help him.’
Mrs Jo spoke earnestly, for, knowing Dan better than anyone else, she saw that her colt was not thoroughly broken yet, and feared while she hoped, knowing that life would always be hard for one like him. She was sure that before he went away again, in some quiet moment he would give her a glimpse of his inner self, and then she could say the word of warning or encouragement that he needed. So she bided her time, studying him meanwhile, glad to see all that was promising, and quick to detect the harm the world was doing him. She was very anxious to make a success of her ‘firebrand’ because others predicted failure; but having learned that people cannot be moulded like clay, she contented herself with the hope that this neglected boy might become a good man, and asked no more. Even that was much to expect, so full was he of wayward impulses, strong passions, and the lawless nature born in him. Nothing held him but the one affection of his life—the memory of Plumfield, the fear of disappointing these faithful friends, the pride, stronger than principle, that made him want to keep the regard of the mates who always had admired and loved him in spite of all his faults.
‘Don’t fret, old dear; Emil is one of the happy-go-lucky sort who always fall on their legs. I’ll see to Nat, and Dan is in a good way now. Let him take a look at Kansas, and if the farm plan loses its charm, he can fall back on poor Lo, and really do good out there. He’s unusually fitted for that peculiar task and I hope he’ll decide to do it. Fighting oppressors, and befriending the oppressed will keep those dangerous energies of his busy, and the life will suit him better than sheep-folds and wheat-fields.’
‘I hope so. What is that?’ and Mrs Jo leaned forward to listen, as exclamations from Ted and Josie caught her ear.
‘A mustang! a real, live one; and we can ride it. Dan, you are a first-class trump!’ cried the boy.
‘A whole Indian dress for me! Now I can play Namioka, if the boys act Metamora,’ added Josie, clapping her hands.
‘A buffalo’s head for Bess! Good gracious, Dan, why did you bring such a horrid thing as that to her?’ asked Nan.
‘Thought it would do her good to model something strong and natural. She’ll never amount to anything if she keeps on making namby-pamby gods and pet kittens,’ answered irreverent Dan, remembering that when he was last here Bess was vibrating distractedly between a head of Apollo and her Persian cat as models.
‘Thank you; I’ll try it, and if I fail we can put the buffalo up in the hall to remind us of you,’ said Bess, indignant at the insult offered the gods of her idolatry, but too well bred to show it except in her voice, which was as sweet and as cold as ice-cream.
‘I suppose you won’t come out to see our new settlement when the rest do? Too rough for you?’ asked Dan, trying to assume the deferential air all the boys used when addressing their Princess.
‘I am going to Rome to study for years. All the beauty and art of the world is there, and a lifetime isn’t long enough to enjoy it,’ answered Bess.
‘Rome is a mouldy old tomb compared to the “Garden of the gods” and my magnificent Rockies. I don’t care a hang for art; nature is as much as I can stand, and I guess I could show you things that would knock your old masters higher than kites. Better come, and while Josie rides the horses you can model ’em. If a drove of a hundred or so of wild ones can’t show you beauty, I’ll give up,’ cried Dan, waxing enthusiastic over the wild grace and vigour which he could enjoy but had no power to describe.
‘I’ll come some day with papa, and see if they are better than the horses of St Mark and those on Capitol Hill. Please don’t abuse my gods, and I will try to like yours,’ said Bess, beginning to think the West might be worth seeing, though no Raphael or Angelo had yet appeared there.
‘That’s a bargain! I do think people ought to see their own country before they go scooting off to foreign parts, as if the new world wasn’t worth discovering,’ began Dan, ready to bury the hatchet.
‘It has some advantages, but not all. The women of England can vote, and we can’t. I’m ashamed of America that she isn’t ahead in all good things,’ cried Nan, who held advanced views on all reforms, and was anxious about her rights, having had to fight for some of them.
‘Oh, please don’t begin on that. People always quarrel over that question, and call names, and never agree. Do let us be quiet and happy tonight,’ pleaded Daisy, who hated discussion as much as Nan loved it.
‘You shall vote as much as you like in our new town, Nan; be mayor and aldermen, and run the whole concern. It’s going to be as free as air, or I can’t live in it,’ said Dan, adding, with a laugh, ‘I see Mrs Giddygaddy and Mrs Shakespeare Smith don’t agree any better than they used to.’
‘If everyone agreed, we should never get on. Daisy is a dear, but inclined to be an old fogy; so I stir her up; and next fall she will go and vote with me. Demi will escort us to do the one thing we are allowed to do as yet.’
‘Will you take ’em, Deacon?’ asked Dan, using the old name as if he liked it. ‘It works capitally in Wyoming.’
‘I shall be proud to do it. Mother and the aunts go every year, and Daisy will come with me. She is my better half still; and I don’t mean to leave her behind in anything,’ said Demi, with an arm round his sister of whom he was fonder than ever.
Dan looked at them wistfully, thinking how sweet it must be to have such a tie; and his lonely youth seemed sadder than ever as he recalled its struggles. A gusty sigh from Tom made sentiment impossible, as he said pensively:
‘I always wanted to be a twin. It’s so sociable and so cosy to have someone glad to lean on a fellow and comfort him, if other girls are cruel.’
As Tom’s unrequited passion was the standing joke of the family, this allusion produced a laugh, which Nan increased by whipping out a bottle of Nux, saying, with her professional air:
‘I knew you ate too much lobster for tea. Take four pellets, and your dyspepsia will be all right. Tom always sighs and is silly when he’s overeaten.’
‘I’ll take ’em. These are the only sweet things you ever give me.’ And Tom gloomily crunched his dose.
‘“Who can minister to a mind diseased, or pluck out a rooted sorrow?”’ quoted Josie tragically from her perch on the railing.
‘Come with me, Tommy, and I’ll make a man of you. Drop your pills and powders, and cavort round the world a spell, and you’ll soon forget you’ve got a heart, or a stomach either,’ said Dan, offering his one panacea for all ills.
‘Ship with me, Tom. A good fit of seasickness will set you up, and a stiff north-easter blow your blue-devils away. Come along as surgeon—easy berth, and no end of larks.’