‘You can fight like a Trojan, that’s evident; and we will be the two obedient armies looking on while you and Ted have it out,’ began Uncle Laurie, assuming the attitude of a warrior leaning on his spear.
‘I fear we must give it up, for Pallas is about to descend and carry off our Hector,’ said Mr March, smiling, as Jo came to remind her son that suppertime was near.
‘We will fight it out later when there are no goddesses to interfere,’ said Teddy, as he turned away with unusual alacrity, remembering the treat in store.
‘Conquered by a muffin, by Jove!’ called Josie after him, exulting in an opportunity to use the classical exclamation forbidden to her sex.
But Ted shot a Parthian arrow as he retired in good order by replying, with a highly virtuous expression: ‘Obedience is a soldier’s first duty.’
Bent on her woman’s privilege of having the last word, Josie ran after him, but never uttered the scathing speech upon her lips, for a very brown young man in a blue suit came leaping up the steps with a cheery ‘Ahoy! ahoy! where is everybody?’
‘Emil! Emil!’ cried Josie, and in a moment Ted was upon him, and the late enemies ended their fray in a joyful welcome to the newcomer.
Muffins were forgotten, and towing their cousin like two fussy little tugs with a fine merchantman, the children returned to the parlour, where Emil kissed all the women and shook hands with all the men except his uncle; him he embraced in the good old German style, to the great delight of the observers.
‘Didn’t think I could get off today, but found I could, and steered straight for old Plum. Not a soul there, so I luffed and bore away for Parnassus, and here is every man Jack of you. Bless your hearts, how glad I am to see you all!’ exclaimed the sailor boy, beaming at them, as he stood with his legs apart as if he still felt the rocking deck under his feet.
‘You ought to “shiver your timbers”, not “bless our hearts”, Emil; it’s not nautical at all. Oh, how nice and shippy and tarry you do smell!’ said Josie, sniffing at him with great enjoyment of the fresh sea odours he brought with him. This was her favourite cousin, and she was his pet; so she knew that the bulging pockets of the blue jacket contained treasures for her at least.
‘Avast, my hearty, and let me take soundings before you dive,’ laughed Emil, understanding her affectionate caresses, and holding her off with one hand while with the other he rummaged out sundry foreign little boxes and parcels marked with different names, and handed them round with appropriate remarks, which caused much laughter; for Emil was a wag.
‘There’s a hawser that will hold our little cock-boat still about five minutes,’ he said, throwing a necklace of pretty pink coral over Josie’s head; ‘and here’s something the mermaids sent to Undine,’ he added, handing Bess a string of pearly shells on a silver chain. ‘I thought Daisy would like a fiddle, and Nat can find her a beau,’ continued the sailor, with a laugh, as he undid a dainty filigree brooch in the shape of a violin.
‘I know she will, and I’ll take it to her,’ answered Nat, as he vanished, glad of an errand, and sure that he could find Daisy though Emil had missed her.
Emil chuckled, and handed out a quaintly carved bear whose head opened, showing a capacious ink-stand. This he presented, with a scrape, to Aunt Jo.
‘Knowing your fondness for these fine animals, I brought this one to your pen.’
‘Very good, Commodore! Try again,’ said Mrs Jo, much pleased with her gift, which caused the Professor to prophesy ‘works of Shakespeare’ from its depths, so great would be the inspiration of the beloved bruin.
‘As Aunt Meg will wear caps, in spite of her youth, I got Ludmilla to get me some bits of lace. Hope you’ll like ’em’; and out of a soft paper came some filmy things, one of which soon lay like a net of snowflakes on Mrs Meg’s pretty hair.
‘I couldn’t find anything swell enough for Aunt Amy, because she has everything she wants, so I brought a little picture that always makes me think of her when Bess was a baby’; and he handed her an oval ivory locket, on which was painted a golden-haired Madonna, with a rosy child folded in her blue mantle.
‘How lovely!’ cried everyone; and Aunt Amy at once hung it about her neck on the blue ribbon from Bess’s hair, charmed with her gift; for it recalled the happiest year of her life.
‘Now, I flatter myself I’ve got just the thing for Nan, neat but not gaudy, a sort of sign you see, and very appropriate for a doctor,’ said Emil, proudly displaying a pair of lava earrings shaped like little skulls.
‘Horrid!’ And Bess, who hated ugly things, turned her eyes to her own pretty shells.
‘She won’t wear earrings,’ said Josie.
‘Well, she’ll enjoy punching your ears then. She’s never so happy as when she’s overhauling her fellow creatures and going for ’em with a knife,’ answered Emil, undisturbed. ‘I’ve got a lot of plunder for you fellows in my chest, but I knew I should have no peace till my cargo for the girls was unloaded. Now tell me all the news.’ And, seated on Amy’s best marble-topped table, the sailor swung his legs and talked at the rate of ten knots an hour, till Aunt Jo carried them all off to a grand family tea in honour of the Commodore.
The March family had enjoyed a great many surprises in the course of their varied career, but the greatest of all was when the Ugly Duckling turned out to be, not a swan, but a golden goose, whose literary eggs found such an unexpected market that in ten years Jo’s wildest and most cherished dream actually came true. How or why it happened she never clearly understood, but all of a sudden she found herself famous in a small way, and, better still, with a snug little fortune in her pocket to clear away the obstacles of the present and assure the future of her boys.
It began during a bad year when everything went wrong at Plumfield; times were hard, the school dwindled, Jo overworked herself and had a long illness; Laurie and Amy were abroad, and the Bhaers too proud to ask help even of those as near and dear as this generous pair. Confined to her room, Jo got desperate over the state of affairs, till she fell back upon the long-disused pen as the only thing she could do to help fill up the gaps in the income. A book for girls being wanted by a certain publisher, she hastily scribbled a little story describing a few scenes and adventures in the lives of herself and sisters, though boys were more in her line, and with very slight hopes of success sent it out to seek its fortune.
Things always went by contraries with Jo. Her first book, laboured over for years, and launched full of the high hopes and ambitious dreams of youth, foundered on its voyage, though the wreck continued to float long afterward, to the profit of the publisher at least. The hastily written story, sent away with no thought beyond the few dollars it might bring, sailed with a fair wind and a wise pilot at the helm into public favour, and came home heavily laden with an unexpected cargo of gold and glory.
A more astonished woman probably never existed than Josephine Bhaer when her little ship came into port with flags flying, cannon that had been silent before now booming gaily, and, better than all, many kind faces rejoicing with her, many friendly hands grasping hers with cordial congratulations. After that it was plain sailing, and she merely had to load her ships and send them off on prosperous trips, to bring home stores of comfort for all she loved and laboured for.
The fame she never did quite accept; for it takes very little fire to make a great deal of smoke nowadays, and notoriety is not real glory. The fortune she could not doubt, and gratefully received; though it was not half so large a one as a generous world reported it to be. The tide having turned continued to rise, and floated the family