Chapter IV. Little Things

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter IV. Little Things"It's so wainy, I can't go out, and evwybody is so cwoss theywon't play with me," said Maud, when Polly found her fretting onthe stairs, and paused to ask the cause of her wails."I'll play with you; only don't scream and wake your mother. Whatshall we play?""I don't know; I'm tired of evwything,'cause my toys are allbwoken, and my dolls are all sick but Clawa," moaned Maud,giving a jerk to the Paris doll which she held upside down by oneleg in the most unmaternal manner."I'm going to dress a dolly for my little sister; would n't you like tosee me do it?" asked Polly, persuasively, hoping to beguile thecross child and finish her own work at the same time."No, I should n't,'cause she'll look nicer than my Clawa. Herclothes won't come off; and Tom spoilt'em playing ball with her inthe yard.""Would n't you like to rip these clothes off, and have me show youhow to make some new ones, so you can dress and undress Claraas much as you like?""Yes; I love to cut." And Maud's, face brightened; fordestructiveness is one of the earliest traits of childhood, andripping was Maud's delight.Establishing themselves in the deserted dining-room, the childrenfell to work; and when Fanny discovered them, Maud waslaughing with all her heart at poor Clara, who, denuded of herfinery, was cutting up all sorts of capers in the hands of her merrylittle mistress."I should think you'd be ashamed to play with dolls, Polly. I haven't touched one this ever so long," said Fanny, looking down with asuperior air."I ain't ashamed, for it keeps Maud happy, and will please mysister Kitty; and I think sewing is better than prinking or readingsilly novels, so, now." And Polly stitched away with a resolute air,for she and Fanny had had a little tiff; because Polly would n't lether friend do up her hair "like other folks," and bore her ears."Don't be cross, dear, but come and do something nice, it's so dullto-day," said Fanny, anxious to be friends again, for it was doublydull without Polly."Can't; I'm busy.""You always are busy. I never saw such a girl. What in the worlddo you find to do all the time?" asked Fanny, watching withinterest the set of the little red merino frock Polly was putting onto her doll."Lots of things; but I like to be lazy sometimes as much as you do;just lie on the sofa, and read fairy stories, or think about nothing.Would you have a white-muslin apron or a black silk?" addedPolly, surveying her work with satisfaction."Muslin, with pockets and tiny blue bows. I'll show you how."And forgetting her hate and contempt for dolls, down sat Fanny,soon getting as much absorbed as either of the others.The dull day brightened wonderfully after that, and the time flewpleasantly, as tongues and needles went together. Grandma peepedin, and smiled at the busy group, saying, "Sew away, my dears;dollies are safe companions, and needlework an accomplishmentthat's sadly neglected nowadays. Small stitches, Maud; neatbuttonholes, Fan; cut carefully, Polly, and don't waste your cloth.Take pains; and the best needlewoman shall have a pretty bit ofwhite satin for a doll's bonnet."Fanny exerted herself, and won the prize, for Polly helped Maud,and neglected her own work; but she did n't care much, for Mr.Shaw said, looking at the three bright faces at the tea-table, "Iguess Polly has been making sunshine for you to-day." "No,indeed, sir, I have n't done anything, only dress Maud's doll."And Polly did n't think she had done much; but it was one of thelittle things which are always waiting to be done in this world ofours, where rainy days come so often, where spirits get out of tune,and duty won't go hand in hand with pleasure. Little things of thissort are especially good work for little people; a kind little thought,an unselfish little act, a cheery little word, are so sweet andcomfortable, that no one can fail to feel their beauty and love thegiver, no matter how small they are. Mothers do a deal of this sortof thing, unseen, unthanked, but felt and remembered longafterward, and never lost, for this is the simple magic that bindshearts together, and keeps home happy. Polly had learned thissecret.She loved to do the "little things" that others did not see, or weretoo busy to stop for; and while doing them, without a thought ofthanks, she made sunshine for herself as well as others. There wasso much love in her own home, that she quickly felt the want of itin Fanny's, and puzzled herself to find out why these people werenot kind and patient to one another. She did not try to settle thequestion, but did her best to love and serve and bear with each, andthe good will, the gentle heart, the helpful ways and simplemanners of our Polly made her dear to every one, for these virtues,even in a little child, are lovely and attractive.Mr. Shaw was very kind to her, for he liked her modest, respectfulmanners; and Polly was so grateful for his many favors, that shesoon forgot her fear, and showed her affection in all sorts ofconfiding little ways, which pleased him extremely. She used towalk across the park with him when he went to his office in themorning, talking busily all the way, and saying "Good-by" with anod and a smile when they parted at the great gate. At first, Mr.Shaw did not care much about it; but soon he missed her if she didnot come, and found that something fresh and pleasant seemed tobrighten all his day, if a small, gray-coated figure, with anintelligent face, a merry voice, and a little hand slipped confidinglyinto his, went with him through the wintry park. Coming homelate, he liked to see a curly, brown head watching at the window;to find his slippers ready, his paper in its place, and a pair ofwilling feet, eager to wait upon him. "I wish my Fanny was morelike her," he often said to himself, as he watched the girls, whilethey thought him deep in politics or the state of the money market.Poor Mr. Shaw had been so busy getting rich, that he had notfound time to teach his children to love him; he was more atleisure now, and as his boy and girls grew up, he missedsomething. Polly was unconsciously showing him what it was, andmaking child-love so sweet, that he felt he could not do without itany more, yet did n't quite know how to win the confidence of thechildren, who had always found him busy, indifferent, andabsentminded.As the girls were going to bed one night, Polly kissed grandma, asusual, and Fanny laughed at her, saying, "What a baby you are! Weare too old for such things now.""I don't think people ever are too old to kiss their fathers andmothers," was the quick answer."Right, my little Polly;" and Mr. Shaw stretched out his hand to herwith such a kindly look, that Fanny stared surprised, and then said,shyly, "I thought you did n't care about it, father." "I do, my dear:"And Mr. Shaw put out the other hand to Fanny, who gave him adaughterly kiss, quite forgetting everything but the tender feelingthat sprung up in her heart at the renewal of the childish customwhich we never need outgrow.Mrs. Shaw was a nervous, fussy invalid, who wanted somethingevery five minutes; so Polly found plenty of small things to do forher and did, them so cheerfully, that the poor lady loved to havethe quiet, helpful child near, to wait upon her, read to her, runerrands, or hand the seven different shawls which were continuallybeing put on or off.Grandma, too, was glad to find willing hands and feet to serve her;and Polly passed many happy hours in the quaint rooms, learningall sorts of pretty arts, and listening to pleasant chat, neverdreaming how much sunshine she brought to the solitary old lady.Tom was Polly's rock ahead for a long time, because he wasalways breaking out in a new place, and one never knew where tofind him. He tormented yet amused her; was kind one day, and abear the next; at times she fancied he was never going to be badagain, and the next thing she knew he was deep in mischief, andhooted at the idea of repentance and reformation. Polly gave himup as a hard case; but was so in the habit of helping any one whoseemed in trouble, that she was good to him simply because shecould n't help it."What's the matter? Is your lesson too hard for you?" she askedone evening, as a groan made her look across the table to whereTom sat scowling over a pile of dilapidated books, with his handsin his hair, as if his head was in danger of flying asunder with thetremendous effort he was making."Hard! Guess it is. What in thunder do I care about the oldCarthaginians? Regulus was n't bad; but I'm sick of him!" AndTom dealt "Harkness's Latin Reader" a thump, which expressed hisfeelings better than words."I like Latin, and used to get on well when I studied it with Jimmy.Perhaps I can help you a little bit," said Polly, as Tom wiped hishot face and refreshed himself with a peanut."You? pooh! girls' Latin don't amount to much anyway," was thegrateful reply.But Polly was used to him now, and, nothing daunted, took a lookat the grimy page in the middle of which Tom had stuck. She readit so well, that the young gentleman stopped munching to regardher with respectful astonishment, and when she stopped, he said,suspiciously, "You are a sly one, Polly, to study up so you canshow off before me. But it won't do, ma'am; turn over a dozenpages, and try again."Polly obeyed, and did even better than before, saying, as shelooked up, with a laugh, "I've been through the whole book; soyou won't catch me that way, Tom.""I say, how came you to know such a lot?" asked Tom, muchimpressed."I studied with Jimmy, and kept up with him, for father let us betogether in all our lessons. It was so nice, and we learned so fast!""Tell me about Jimmy. He's your brother, is n't he?""Yes; but he's dead, you know. I'll tell about him some other time;you ought to study now, and perhaps I can help you," said Polly,with a little quiver of the lips."Should n't wonder if you could." And Tom spread the bookbetween them with a grave and business-like air, for he felt thatPolly had got the better of him, and it behooved him to do his bestfor the honor of his sex. He went at the lesson with a will, andsoon floundered out of his difficulties, for Polly gave him a lifthere and there, and they went on swimmingly, till they came tosome rules to be learned. Polly had forgotten them, so they, bothcommitted them to memory; Tom, with hands in his pockets,rocked to and fro, muttering rapidly, while Polly twisted the littlecurl on her forehead and stared at the wall, gabbling with all hermight."Done!" cried Tom, presently."Done!" echoed Polly; and then they heard each other recite tillboth were perfect "That's pretty good fun," said Tom, joyfully,tossing poor Harkness away, and feeling that the pleasantexcitement of companionship could lend a charm even to LatinGrammar."Now, ma'am, we'll take a turn at algibbera. I like that as much asI hate Latin."Polly accepted the invitation, and soon owned that Tom could beather here. This fact restored his equnimity; but he did n't crow overher, far from it; for he helped her with a paternal patience thatmade her eyes twinkle with suppressed fun, as he soberlyexplained and illustrated, unconsciously imitating Dominie Deane,till Polly found it difficult to keep from laughing in his face."You may have another go at it any, time you like," generouslyremarked Tom, as he shied the algebra after the Latin Reader."I'll come every evening, then. I'd like to, for I have n't studied abit since I came. You shall try and make me like algebra, and I'lltry and make you like Latin, will you?""Oh, I'd like it well enough, if there was any one explain it to me.Old Deane puts us through double-quick, and don't give a fellowtime to ask questions when we read.""Ask your father; he knows.""Don't believe he does; should n't dare to bother him, if he did.""Why not?""He'd pull my ears, and call me a'stupid,' or tell me not to worryhim.""I don't think he would. He's very kind to me, and I ask lots ofquestions.""He likes you better than he does me.""Now, Tom! it's wrong of you to say so. Of course he loves youever so much more than he does me," cried Polly, reprovingly."Why don't he show it then?" muttered Tom, with a half-wistful,half-defiant glance toward the library door, which stood ajar."You act so, how can he?" asked Polly, after a pause, in which sheput Tom's question to herself, and could find no better reply thanthe one she gave him."Why don't he give me my velocipede? He said, if I did well atschool for a month, I should have it; and I've been pegging awaylike fury for most six weeks, and he don't do a thing about it. Thegirls get their duds, because they tease. I won't do that anyway; butyou don't catch me studying myself to death, and no pay for it.""It is too bad; but you ought to do it because it's right, and nevermind being paid," began Polly, trying to be moral, but secretlysympathizing heartily with poor Tom."Don't you preach, Polly. If the governor took any notice of me,and cared how I got on, I would n't mind the presents so much; buthe don't care a hang, and never even asked if I did well lastdeclamation day, when I'd gone and learned'The Battle of LakeRegillus,' because he said he liked it.""Oh, Tom! Did you say that? It's splendid! Jim and I used to sayHoratius together, and it was such fun. Do speak your piece to me,I do so like'Macaulay's Lays.'""It's dreadful long," began Tom; but his face brightened, forPolly's interest soothed his injured feelings, and he was glad toprove his elocutionary powers. He began without much spirit; butsoon the martial ring of the lines fired him, and before he knew it,he was on his legs thundering away in grand style, while Pollylistened with kindling face and absorbed attention. Tom diddeclaim well, for he quite forgot himself, and delivered the stirringballad with an energy that made Polly flush and tingle withadmiration and delight, and quite electrified a second listener, whohad heard all that went on, and watched the little scene frombehind his newspaper.As Tom paused, breathless, and Polly clapped her handsenthusiastically, the sound was loudly echoed from behind him.Both whirled round, and there was Mr. Shaw, standing in thedoorway, applauding with all his might.Tom looked much abashed, and said not a word; Polly ran to Mr.Shaw, and danced before him, saying, eagerly, "Was n't itsplendid? Did n't he do well? May n't he have his velocipedenow?""Capital, Tom; you'll be an orator yet. Learn another piece likethat, and I'll come and hear you speak it. Are you ready for yourvelocipede, hey?"Polly was right; and Tom owned that "the governor" was kind, didlike him and had n't entirely forgotten his promise. The boy turnedred with pleasure, and picked at the buttons on his jacket, whilelistening to this unexpected praise; but when he spoke, he lookedstraight up in his father's face, while his own shone with pleasure,as he answered, in one breath, "Thankee, sir. I'll do it, sir. Guess Iam, sir!""Very good; then look out for your new horse tomorrow, sir." AndMr. Shaw stroked the fuzzy red head with a kind hand, feeling afatherly pleasure in the conviction that there was something in hisboy after all.Tom got his velocipede next day, named it Black Auster, inmemory of the horse in "The Battle of Lake Regillus," and came togrief as soon as he began to ride his new steed."Come out and see me go it," whispered Tom to Polly, after threedays' practice in the street, for he had already learned to ride in therink.Polly and Maud willingly went, and watched his struggles, withdeep interest, till he got an upset, which nearly put an end to hisvelocipeding forever."Hi, there! Auster's coming!" shouted Tom, as came rattling downthe long, steep street outside the park.They stepped aside, and he whizzed by, arms and legs going likemad, with the general appearance of a runaway engine. It wouldhave been a triumphant descent, if a big dog had not bouncedsuddenly through one of the openings, and sent the whole concernhelter-skelter into the gutter. Polly laughed as she ran to view theruin. for Tom lay flat on his back with the velocipede atop him,while the big dog barked wildly, and his master scolded him forhis awkwardness. But when she saw Tom's face, Polly wasfrightened, for the color had all gone out of it, his eyes lookedstrange and dizzy, and drops of blood began to trickle from a greatcut on his forehead. The man saw it, too, and had him up in aminute; but he could n't stand, and stared about him in a dazed sortof way, as he sat on the curbstone, while Polly held herhandkerchief to his forehead, and pathetically begged to know ifhe was killed."Don't scare mother, I'm all right. Got upset, did n't I?" he asked,presently, eyeing the prostrate velocipede with more anxiety aboutits damages than his own."I knew you'd hurt yourself with that horrid thing just let it be, andcome home, for your head bleeds dreadfully, and everybody islooking at us," whispered Polly, trying to tie the little handkerchiefover the ugly cut."Come on, then. Jove! how queer my head feels! Give us a boost,please. Stop howling, Maud, and come home. You bring themachine, and I'll pay you, Pat." As he spoke, Tom slowly pickedhimself and steadying himself by Polly's shoulder, issuedcommands, and the procession fell into line. First, the big dog,barking at intervals; then the good-natured Irishman, trundling"that divil of a whirligig," as he disrespectfully called the idolizedvelocipede; then the wounded hero, supported by the helpful Polly;and Maud brought up the rear in tears, bearing Tom's cap.Unfortunately, Mrs. Shaw was out driving with grandma, andFanny was making calls; so that there was no one but Polly tostand by Tom, for the parlor-maid turned faint at the sight ofblood, and the chamber-maid lost her wits in the flurry. It was abad cut, and must be sewed up at once, the doctor said, as soon ashe came. "Somebody must hold his head;" he added, as hethreaded his queer little needle."I'll keep still, but if anybody must hold me, let Polly. You ain'tafraid, are you?" asked Tom, with imploring look, for he did n'tlike the idea of being sewed a bit.Polly was just going to shrink away, saying, "Oh I can't!" when sheremembered that Tom once called her a coward. Here was achance to prove that she was n't; besides, poor Tom had no oneelse to help him; so she came up to the sofa where he lay, andnodded reassuringly, as she put a soft little hand on either side ofthe damaged head."You are a trump, Polly," whispered Tom. Then he set his teeth,clenched his hands, lay quite still, and bore it like a man. It was allover in a minute or two, and when he had had a glass of wine, andwas nicely settled on his bed, he felt pretty comfortable, in spite ofthe pain in his head; and being ordered to keep quiet, he said,"Thank you ever so much, Polly," and watched her with a gratefulface as she crept away.He had to keep the house for a week, and laid about looking veryinteresting with a great black patch on his forehead. Every one'petted him;' for the doctor said, that if the blow had been an inchnearer the temple, it would have been fatal, and the thought oflosing him so suddenly made bluff old Tom very precious all atonce. His father asked him how he was a dozen times a day; hismother talked continually of "that dear boy's narrow escape"; andgrandma cockered him up with every delicacy she could invent;and the girls waited on him like devoted slaves. This newtreatment had an excellent effect; for when neglected Tom gotover his first amazement at this change of base, he blossomed outdelightfully, as sick people do sometimes, and surprised his familyby being unexpectedly patient, grateful, and amiable. Nobody everknew how much good it did him; for boys seldom haveconfidences of this sort except with their mothers, and Mrs. Shawhad never found the key to her son's heart. But a little seed wassowed then that took root, and though it grew very slowly, it cameto something in the end. Perhaps Polly helped it a little. Eveningwas his hardest time, for want of exercise made him as restless andnervous as it was possible for a hearty lad to be on such a shortnotice.He could n't sleep so the girls amused him; Fanny played and readaloud; Polly sung, and told stories; and did the latter so well, that itgot to be a regular thing for her to begin as soon as twilight came,and Tom was settled in his favorite place on grandma's sofa."Fire away, Polly," said the young sultan, one evening, as his littleScheherazade sat down in her low chair, after stirring up the firetill the room was bright and cosy."I don't feel like stories to-night, Tom. I've told all I know, andcan't make up any more," answered Polly, leaning her head on herhand with a sorrowful look that Tom had never seen before. Hewatched her a minute, and then asked, curiously, "What were youthinking about, just now, when you sat staring at the fire, andgetting soberer and soberer every minute?"I was thinking about Jimmy.""Would you mind telling about him? You know, you said youwould some time; but don't, if you'd rather not," said Tom,lowering his rough voice respectfully."I like to talk about him; but there is n't much to tell," began Polly,grateful for his interest. "Sitting here with you reminded me of theway I used to sit with him when he was sick. We used to have suchhappy times, and it's so pleasant to think about them now.""He was awfully good, was n't he?""No, he was n't; but he tried to be, and mother says that is half thebattle. We used to get tired of trying; but we kept makingresolutions, and working hard to keep'em. I don't think I got onmuch; but Jimmy did, and every one loved him.""Did n't you ever squabble, as we do?""Yes, indeed, sometimes; but we could n't stay mad, and alwaysmade it up again as soon as we could. Jimmy used to come roundfirst, and say,'All serene, Polly,' so kind and jolly, that I could n'thelp laughing and being friends right away.""Did he not know a lot?""Yes, I think he did, for he liked to study, and wanted to get on, sohe could help father. People used to call him a fine boy, and I feltso proud to hear it; but they did n't know half how wise he was,because he did n't show off a bit. I suppose sisters always are grandof their brothers; but I don't believe many girls had as much rightto be as I had.""Most girls don't care two pins about their brothers; so that showsyou don't know much about it.""Well, they ought to, if they don't; and they would if the boys wereas kind to them as Jimmy was to me.""Why, what did he do?""Loved me dearly, and was n't ashamed to show it," cried Polly,with a sob in her voice, that made her answer very eloquent."What made him die, Polly?" asked Tom, soberly, after littlepause."He got hurt coasting, last winter; but he never told which boy didit, and he only lived a week. I helped take care of him; and he wasso patient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain alltime. He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens,and his big knife, and said,'Good-by, Polly,' and kissed me the lastthing and then O Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!"Poor Polly's eyes had been getting fuller and fuller, lips tremblingmore and more, as she went on; when she came to that "good-by,"she could n't get any further, but covered up her face, and cried asher heart would break. Tom was full of sympathy, but did n't knowhow to show it; so he sat shaking up the camphor bottle, and tryingto think of something proper and comfortable to say, when Fannycame to the rescue, and cuddled Polly in her arms, with soothinglittle pats and whispers and kisses, till the tears stopped, and Pollysaid, she "did n't mean to, and would n't any more. I've beenthinking about my dear boy all the evening, for Tom reminds meof him," she added, with a sigh."Me? How can I, when I ain't a bit like him?" cried Tom, amazed."But you are in some ways.""Wish I was; but I can't be, for he was good, you know.""So are you, when you choose. Has n't he been good and patient,and don't we all like to pet him when he's clever, Fan?"' said Polly,whose heart was still aching for her brother, and ready for his saketo find virtues even in tormenting Tom."Yes; I don't know the boy lately; but he'll be as bad as ever whenhe's well," returned Fanny, who had n't much faith in sick-bedrepentances."Much you know about it," growled Tom, lying down again, for hehad sat bolt upright when Polly made the astounding declarationthat he was like the well-beloved Jimmy. That simple little historyhad made a deep impression on Tom, and the tearful endingtouched the tender spot that most boys hide so carefully. It is verypleasant to be loved and admired, very sweet to think we shall bemissed and mourned when we die; and Tom was seized with asudden desire to imitate this boy, who had n't done anythingwonderful, yet was so dear to his sister, that she cried for him awhole year after he was dead; so studious and clever, the peoplecalled him "a fine fellow"; and so anxious to be good, that he kepton trying, till he was better even than Polly, whom Tom privatelyconsidered a model of virtue, as girls go."I just wish I had a sister like you," he broke out, all of a sudden."And I just wish I had a brother like Jim," cried Fanny, for she feltthe reproach in Tom's words, and knew she deserved it."I should n't think you'd envy anybody, for you've got oneanother," said Polly, with such a wistful look, that it suddenly setTom and Fanny to wondering why they did n't have better timestogether, and enjoy themselves, as Polly and Jim did."Fan don't care for anybody but herself," said Tom."Tom is such a bear," retorted Fanny."I would n't say such things, for if anything should happen to eitherof you, the other one would feel so sorry. Every cross word I eversaid to Jimmy comes back now, and makes me wish I had n't."Two great tears rolled down Polly's cheeks, and were quietlywiped away; but I think they watered that sweet sentiment, calledfraternal love, which till now had been neglected in the hearts ofthis brother and sister. They did n't say anything then, or make anyplans, or confess any faults; but when they parted for the night,Fanny gave the wounded head a gentle pat (Tom never would haveforgiven her if she had kissed him), and said, in a whisper, "I hopeyou'll have a good sleep, Tommy, dear."And Tom nodded back at her, with a hearty "Same to you, Fan."That was all; but it meant a good deal, for the voices were kind,and the eyes met full of that affection which makes words of littleconsequence. Polly saw it; and though she did n't know that shehad made the sunshine, it shone back upon her so pleasantly, thatshe fell happily asleep, though her Jimmy was n't there to say"good-night."