Jo’s Boys. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

soon lost breath trying to keep up with him; but the girls all declared he steered like an angel, and in spite of his pace no collisions took place; so he was happy, and found no lack of damsels to ship with him.

      Having no dress-suit, Dan had been coaxed to wear his Mexican costume, and feeling at ease in the many-buttoned trousers, loose jacket, and gay sash, flung his serape over his shoulder with a flourish and looked his best, doing great execution with his long spurs, as he taught Josie strange steps or rolled his black eyes admiringly after certain blonde damsels whom he dared not address.

      The mammas sat in the alcove, supplying pins, smiles, and kindly words to all, especially the awkward youths new to such scenes, and the bashful girls conscious of faded muslins and cleaned gloves. It was pleasant to see stately Mrs Amy promenade on the arm of a tall country boy, with thick boots and a big forehead, or Mrs Jo dance like a girl with a shy fellow whose arms went like pump-handles, and whose face was scarlet with confusion and pride at the honour of treading on the toes of the president’s wife. Mrs Meg always had room on her sofa for two or three girls, and Mr Laurie devoted himself to these plain, poorly dressed damsels with a kindly grace that won their hearts and made them happy. The good Professor circulated like refreshments, and his cheerful face shone on all alike, while Mr March discussed Greek comedy in the study with such serious gentlemen as never unbent their mighty minds to frivolous joys.

      The long music-room, parlour, hall, and piazza were full of white-gowned maidens with attendant shadows; the air was full of lively voices, and hearts and feet went lightly together as the home band played vigorously, and the friendly moon did her best to add enchantment to the scene.

      ‘Pin me up, Meg; that dear Dunbar boy has nearly rent me “in sunder”, as Mr Peggotty would say. But didn’t he enjoy himself, bumping against his fellow men and swinging me round like a mop. On these occasions I find that I’m not as young as I was, nor as light of foot. In ten years more we shall be meal-bags, sister; so be resigned.’ And Mrs Jo subsided into a corner, much dishevelled by her benevolent exertions.

      ‘I know I shall be stout; but you won’t keep still long enough to get much flesh on your bones, dear; and Amy will always keep her lovely figure. She looks about eighteen tonight, in her white gown and roses,’ answered Meg, busily pinning up one sister’s torn frills, while her eyes fondly followed the other’s graceful movements; for Meg still adored Amy in the old fashion.

      It was one of the family jokes that Jo was getting fat, and she kept it up, though as yet she had only acquired a matronly outline, which was very becoming. They were laughing over the impending double chins, when Mr Laurie came off duty for a moment.

      ‘Repairing damages as usual, Jo? You never could take a little gentle exercise without returning in rags. Come and have a quiet stroll with me and cool off before supper. I’ve a series of pretty tableaux to show you while Meg listens to the raptures of lisping Miss Carr, whom I made happy by giving her Demi for a partner.’

      As he spoke, Laurie led Jo to the music-room, nearly empty now after a dance which sent the young people into garden and hall. Pausing before the first of the four long windows that opened on a very wide piazza, he pointed to a group outside, saying: ‘The name of this is “Jack Ashore”.’

      A pair of long, blue legs, ending in very neat pumps, hung from the veranda roof among the vines; and roses, gathered by unseen hands, evidently appertaining to aforesaid legs, were being dropped into the laps of several girls perched like a flock of white birds on the railing below; while a manly voice ‘fell like a falling star’, as it sung this pensive ditty to a most appreciative audience:

      MARY’S DREAM

       ‘The moon had climbed the eastern hill

       Which rises o’er the sands of Dee,

       And from its highest summit shed

       A silver light on tower and tree,

       When Mary laid her down to sleep

       (Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea);

       When soft and low a voice was heard,

       Saying, “Mary, weep no more for me.”

       ‘She from her pillow gently raised

       Her head, to see who there might be,

       And saw young Sandy, shivering stand

       With visage pale and hollow e’e.

       “Oh Mary dear, cold is my clay;

       It lies beneath the stormy sea;

       Far, far from thee, I sleep in death.

       Dear Mary, weep no more for me.

       ‘“Three stormy nights and stormy days

       We tossed upon the raging main.

       And long we strove our bark to save;

       But all our striving was in vain.

       E’en then, when terror chilled my blood,

       My heart was filled with love of thee.

       The storm is past, and I’m at rest;

       So, Mary, weep no more for me.

       ‘“Oh maiden dear, yourself prepare;

       We soon shall meet upon that shore

       Where love is free from doubt and care,

       And you and I shall part no more.”

       Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;

       No more her Sandy did she see;

       But soft the passing spirit said,

       “Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.”’

      ‘The constant jollity of that boy is worth a fortune to him. He’ll never sink with such a buoyant spirit to keep him afloat through life,’ said Mrs Jo, as the roses were tossed back with much applause when the song ended.