Page 425 - Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Grandfather, and prove to him that I'm not spoiled. I need some- thing of the sort to keep me steady. I'm tired of dawdling, and mean to work like a man." "And Amy, what is she going to do?" asked Mrs. March, well pleased at Laurie's decision and the energy with which he spoke. "After doing the civil all round, and airing our best bonnet, we shall astonish you by the elegant hospitalities of our mansion, the brilliant society we shall draw about us, and the beneficial influ- ence we shall exert over the world at large. That's about it, isn't it, Madame Recamier?" asked Laurie with a quizzical look at Amy. "Time will show. Come away, Impertinence, and don't shock my family by calling me names before their faces," answered Amy, re- solving that there should be a home with a good wife in it before she set up a salon as a queen of society. "How happy those children seem together!" observed Mr. March, finding it difficult to become absorbed in his Aristotle af- ter the young couple had gone. "Yes, and I think it will last," added Mrs. March, with the restful expression of a pilot who has brought a ship safely into port. "I know it will. Happy Amy!" and Jo sighed, then smiled bright- ly as Professor Bhaer opened the gate with an impatient push. Later in the evening, when his mind had been set at rest about the bootjack, Laurie said suddenly to his wife, "Mrs. Laurence." "My Lord!" "That man intends to marry our Jo!" "I hope so, don't you, dear?" "Well, my love, I consider him a trump, in the fullest sense of that expressive word, but I do wish he was a little younger and a good deal richer." "Now, Laurie, don't be too fastidious and worldly-minded. If they love one another it doesn't matter a particle how old they are nor how poor. Women never should marry for money..." Amy caught herself up short as the words escaped her, and looked at her husband, who replied, with malicious gravity... "Certainly not, though you do hear charming girls say that they intend to do it sometimes. If my memory serves me, you once thought it your duty to make a rich match. That accounts, per- haps, for your marrying a good-for-nothing like me." "Oh, my dearest boy, don't, don't say that! I forgot you were rich when I said 'Yes'. I'd have married you if you hadn't a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor that I might show how much I love you." And Amy, who was very dignified in public and very fond in private, gave convincing proofs of the truth of her words. 423 LOUISA MAY ALCOTT