"For what?"

"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promisedto make half a dozen calls with me today?"

"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life,but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six callsin one day, when a single one upsets me for a week."

"Yes, you did, it was a bargain between us. I was to finishthe crayon of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me,and return our neighbors' visits."

"If it was fair, that was in the bond, and I stand to theletter of my bond, Shylock. There is a pile of clouds in the east,it's not fair, and I don't go."

"Now, that's shirking. It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain,and you pride yourself on keeping promises, so be honorable, comeand do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months."

At that minute Jo was particularly absorbed in dressmaking,for she was mantua-maker general to the family, and took especialcredit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen.It was very provoking to be arrested in the act of a first trying-on,and ordered out to make calls in her best array on a warm July day.She hated calls of the formal sort, and never made any till Amycompelled her with a bargain, bribe, or promise. In the presentinstance there was no escape, and having clashed her scissorsrebelliously, while protesting that she smelled thunder, she gave in,put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air ofresignation, told Amy the victim was ready.

"Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint! You don'tintend to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveyingher with amazement.

"Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable, quite properfor a dusty walk on a warm day. If people care more for myclothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them. You candress for both, and be as elegant as you please. It pays foryou to be fine. It doesn't for me, and furbelows only worry me."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Amy, "now she's in a contrary fit, andwill drive me distracted before I can get her properly ready.I'm sure it's no pleasure to me to go today, but it's a debt weowe society, and there's no one to pay it but you and me. I'lldo anything for you, Jo, if you'll only dress yourself nicely,and come and help me do the civil. You can talk so well, lookso aristocratic in your best things, and behave so beautifully,if you try, that I'm proud of you. I'm afraid to go alone, docome and take care of me."

"You're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle yourcross old sister in that way. The idea of my being aristocraticand well-bred, and your being afraid to go anywhere alone! Idon't know which is the most absurd. Well, I'll go if I must,and do my best. You shall be commander of the expedition, andI'll obey blindly, will that satisfy you?" said Jo, with a suddenchange from perversity to lamblike submission.

"You're a perfect cherub! Now put on all your best things,and I'll tell you how to behave at each place, so that you willmake a good impression. I want people to like you, and theywould if you'd only try to be a little more agreeable. Do yourhair the pretty way, and put the pink rose in your bonnet. It'sbecoming, and you look too sober in your plain suit. Take yourlight gloves and the embroidered handkerchief. We'll stop atMeg's, and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can have mydove-colored one."

While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyedthem, not without entering her protest, however, for she sighedas she rustled into her new organdie, frowned darkly at herselfas she tied her bonnet strings in an irreproachable bow,wrestled viciously with pins as she put on her collar,wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out the handkerchief,whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the present missionwas to her feelings, and when she had squeezed her hands intotight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last touchof elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression ofcountenance, saying meekly . . .

"I'm perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable,I die happy."

"You're highly satisfactory. Turn slowly round, and let me get acareful view." Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there,then fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously,"Yes, you'll do. Your head is all I could ask, for that white bonnetwith the rose is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders, andcarry your hands easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There'sone thing you can do well, Jo, that is, wear a shawl. I can't, butit's very nice to see you, and I'm so glad Aunt March gave you thatlovely one. It's simple, but handsome, and those folds over the armare really artistic. Is the point of my mantle in the middle, andhave I looped my dress evenly? I like to show my boots, for my feetare pretty, though my nose isn't."

"You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever," said Jo, lookingthrough her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue featheragainst the golden hair. "Am I to drag my best dress through thedust, or loop it up, please, ma'am?"

"Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house. Thesweeping style suits you best, and you must learn to trail yourskirts gracefully. You haven't half buttoned one cuff, do it atonce. You'll never look finished if you are not careful about thelittle details, for they make up the pleasing whole."

Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove,in doing up her cuff, but at last both were ready, and sailed away,looking as 'pretty as picters', Hannah said, as she hung out of theupper window to watch them.

"Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegantpeople, so I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't makeany of your abrupt remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just becalm, cool, and quiet, that's safe and ladylike, and you can easilydo it for fifteen minutes," said Amy, as they approached the firstplace, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg,with a baby on each arm.

"Let me see. 'Calm, cool, and quiet', yes, I think I canpromise that. I've played the part of a prim young lady on thestage, and I'll try it off. My powers are great, as you shall see,so be easy in your mind, my child."

Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word, forduring the first call she sat with every limb gracefullycomposed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, coolas a snowbank, and as silent as the sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chesteralluded to her 'charming novel', and the Misses Chesterintroduced parties, picnics, the opera, and the fashions. Eachand all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a demure "Yes" or"No" with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the word 'talk',tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with herfoot. Jo sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportmentlike Maud's face, 'icily regular, splendidly null'.

"What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is!"was the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, asthe door closed upon their guests. Jo laughed noiselessly allthrough the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of herinstructions, and very naturally laid the blame upon Jo.

"How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properlydignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock andstone. Try to be sociable at the Lambs'. Gossip as other girls do,and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsensecomes up. They move in the best society, are valuable persons forus to know, and I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there foranything."

"I'll be agreeable. I'll gossip and giggle, and have horrorsand raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, andnow I'll imitate what is called 'a charming girl'. I can do it,for I have May Chester as a model, and I'll improve upon her. See ifthe Lambs don't say, 'What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!"

Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakishthere was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was astudy when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing room, kissall the young ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the younggentlemen, and join in the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder.Amy was taken possession of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom shewas a favorite, and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia'slast attack, while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near,waiting for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her. Sosituated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed possessed bya spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubly as the lady. Aknot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hearwhat was going on, for broken sentences filled her with curiosity,and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. Onemay imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort ofconversation.

"She rides splendidly. Who taught her?"

"No one. She used to practice mounting, holding the reins, andsitting straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything,for she doesn't know what fear is, and the stableman lets her havehorses cheap because she trains them to carry ladies so well. Shehas such a passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails,she can be a horsebreaker, and get her living so."

At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, forthe impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady,which was her especial aversion. But what could she do? For theold lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done,Jo was off again, making more droll revelations and committing stillmore fearful blunders.

"Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts weregone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other sobalky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start.Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it?"

"Which did she choose?" asked one of the laughing gentlemen,who enjoyed the subject.

"None of them. She heard of a young horse at the farm houseover the river, and though a lady had never ridden him, she resolvedto try, because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggleswere really pathetic. There was no one to bring the horse to thesaddle, so she took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, sheactually rowed it over the river, put it on her head, and marchedup to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man!"

"Did she ride the horse?"

"Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to seeher brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, andwas the life of the party."

"Well, I call that plucky!" and young Mr. Lamb turned an approvingglance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to makethe girl look so red and uncomfortable.

She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after,when a sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject ofdress. One of the young ladies asked Jo where she got the prettydrab hat she wore to the picnic and stupid Jo, instead of mentioningthe place where it was bought two years ago, must needs answerwith unnecessary frankness, "Oh, Amy painted it. You can't buythose soft shades, so we paint ours any color we like. It's a greatcomfort to have an artistic sister."

"Isn't that an original idea?" cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun.

"That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances.There's nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blueboots for Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white onesthe loveliest shade of sky blue you ever saw, and they lookedexactly like satin," added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister'saccomplishments that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would bea relief to throw her cardcase at her.

"We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much,"observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literarylady, who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.

Any mention of her 'works' always had a bad effect upon Jo,who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subjectwith a brusque remark, as now. "Sorry you could find nothing betterto read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary peoplelike it. Are you going to New York this winter?"

As Miss Lamb had 'enjoyed' the story, this speech was not exactlygrateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw hermistake, but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly rememberedthat it was for her to make the first move toward departure, and didso with an abruptness that left three people with half-finishedsentences in their mouths.

"Amy, we must go. Good-by, dear, do come and see us. We arepining for a visit. I don't dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb, but if youshould come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away."

Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester'sgushing style that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible,feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Didn't I do well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air as they walked away.

"Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crushing reply."What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, andthe hats and boots, and all the rest of it?"

"Why, it's funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor,so it's no use pretending that we have grooms, buy three orfour hats a season, and have things as easy and fine as they do."

"You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts, andexpose our poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven'ta bit of proper pride, and never will learn when to hold yourtongue and when to speak," said Amy despairingly.

Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of hernose with the stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance forher misdemeanors.

"How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached thethird mansion.

"Just as you please. I wash my hands of you," was Amy's shortanswer.

"Then I'll enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we'll havea comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, forelegance has a bad effect upon my constitution," returned Jo gruffly,being disturbed by her failure to suit.

An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several prettychildren speedily soothed her ruffled feelings, and leaving Amy toentertain the hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be callinglikewise, Jo devoted herself to the young folks and found thechange refreshing. She listened to college stories with deep interest,caressed pointers and poodles without a murmur, agreed heartilythat "Tom Brown was a brick," regardless of the improper formof praise, and when one lad proposed a visit to his turtle tank,she went with an alacrity which caused Mamma to smile upon her,as that motherly lady settled the cap which was left in a ruinouscondition by filial hugs, bearlike but affectionate, and dearer toher than the most faultless coiffure from the hands of an inspiredFrenchwoman.

Leaving her sister to her own devices, Amy proceeded to enjoyherself to her heart's content. Mr. Tudor's uncle had married anEnglish lady who was third cousin to a living lord, and Amy regardedthe whole family with great respect, for in spite of her Americanbirth and breeding, she possessed that reverence for titles whichhaunts the best of us - that unacknowledged loyalty to the earlyfaith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sunin ferment at the coming of a royal yellow-haired laddie, some yearsago, and which still has something to do with the love the youngcountry bears the old, like that of a big son for an imperious littlemother, who held him while she could, and let him go with a farewellscolding when he rebelled. But even the satisfaction of talking witha distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetfulof time, and when the proper number of minutes had passed, shereluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society, and lookedabout for Jo, fervently hoping that her incorrigible sister would notbe found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name ofMarch.

It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad. For Josat on the grass, with an encampment of boys about her, and adirty-footed dog reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress,as she related one of Laurie's pranks to her admiring audience. Onesmall child was poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol, a secondwas eating gingerbread over Jo's best bonnet, and a third playingball with her gloves, but all were enjoying themselves, and when Jocollected her damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her,begging her to come again, "It was such fun to hear about Laurie's larks."

"Capital boys, aren't they? I feel quite young and brisk againafter that." said Jo, strolling along with her hands behind her,partly from habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol.

"Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor?" asked Amy, wisely refrainingfrom any comment upon Jo's dilapidated appearance.

"Don't like him, he puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worrieshis father, and doesn't speak respectfully of his mother. Lauriesays he is fast, and I don't consider him a desirable acquaintance,so I let him alone."

"You might treat him civilly, at least. You gave him a coolnod, and just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way toTommy Chamberlain, whose father keeps a grocery store. If youhad just reversed the nod and the bow, it would have been right,"said Amy reprovingly.

"No, it wouldn't," returned Jo, "I neither like, respect, noradmire Tudor, though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece wasa third cousin to a lord. Tommy is poor and bashful and good andvery clever. I think well of him, and like to show that I do, forhe is a gentleman in spite of the brown paper parcels."

"It's no use trying to argue with you," began Amy.

"Not the least, my dear," interrupted Jo, "so let us lookamiable, and drop a card here, as the Kings are evidently out,for which I'm deeply grateful."

The family cardcase having done its duty the girls walkedon, and Jo uttered another thanksgiving on reaching the fifthhouse, and being told that the young ladies were engaged.

"Now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March today. Wecan run down there any time, and it's really a pity to trailthrough the dust in our best bibs and tuckers, when we aretired and cross."

"Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt March likes to have uspay her the compliment of coming in style, and making a formal call.It's a little thing to do, but it gives her pleasure, and I don'tbelieve it will hurt your things half so much as letting dirty dogsand clumping boys spoil them. Stoop down, and let me take thecrumbs off of your bonnet."

"What a good girl you are, Amy!" said Jo, with a repentantglance from her own damaged costume to that of her sister, whichwas fresh and spotless still. "I wish it was as easy for me to dolittle things to please people as it is for you. I think of them,but it takes too much time to do them, so I wait for a chance toconfer a great favor, and let the small ones slip, but they tellbest in the end, I fancy."

Amy smiled and was mollified at once, saying with a maternalair, "Women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones,for they have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive.If you'd remember that, and practice it, you'd be better likedthan I am, because there is more of you."

"I'm a crotchety old thing, and always shall be, but I'mwilling to own that you are right, only it's easier for me torisk my life for a person than to be pleasant to him when I don'tfeel like it. It's a great misfortune to have such strong likesand dislikes, isn't it?"

"It's a greater not to be able to hide them. I don't mindsaying that I don't approve of Tudor any more than you do, but I'mnot called upon to tell him so. Neither are you, and there is nouse in making yourself disagreeable because he is."

"But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove ofyoung men, and how can they do it except by their manners?Preaching does not do any good, as I know to my sorrow, since I'vehad Teddie to manage. But there are many little ways in which I caninfluence him without a word, and I say we ought to do it to othersif we can."

"Teddy is a remarkable boy, and can't be taken as a sampleof other boys," said Amy, in a tone of solemn conviction, whichwould have convulsed the 'remarkable boy' if he had heard it. "Ifwe were belles, or women of wealth and position, we might do something,perhaps, but for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen becausewe don't approve of them, and smile upon another set becausewe do, wouldn't have a particle of effect, and we shouldonly be considered odd and puritanical."

"So we are to countenance things and people which we detest,merely because we are not belles and millionaires, are we?That's a nice sort of morality."

"I can't argue about it, I only know that it's the way ofthe world, and people who set themselves against it only getlaughed at for their pains. I don't like reformers, and I hopeyou never try to be one."

"I do like them, and I shall be one if I can, for in spite ofthe laughing the world would never get on without them. We can'tagree about that, for you belong to the old set, and I to the new.You will get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it.I should rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think."

"Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry Aunt with yournew ideas."

"I'll try not to, but I'm always possessed to burst out withsome particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment beforeher. It's my doom, and I can't help it."

They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed insome very interesting subject, but they dropped it as the girlscame in, with a conscious look which betrayed that they had beentalking about their nieces. Jo was not in a good humor, and theperverse fit returned, but Amy, who had virtuously done her duty,kept her temper and pleased everybody, was in a most angelic frameof mind. This amiable spirit was felt at once, and both aunts 'mydeared' her affectionately, looking what they afterward said emphatically, "That child improves every day."

"Are you going to help about the fair, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol,as Amy sat down beside her with the confiding air elderly people likeso well in the young.

"Yes, Aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered totend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give."

"I'm not," put in Jo decidedly. "I hate to be patronized, andthe Chesters think it's a great favor to allow us to help with theirhighly connected fair. I wonder you consented, Amy, they only wantyou to work."

"I am willing to work. It's for the freedmen as well as theChesters, and I think it very kind of them to let me share thelabor and the fun. Patronage does not trouble me when it is wellmeant."

"Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear.It's a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts. Some donot, and that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over herspectacles at Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhatmorose expression.

If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering inthe balance for one of them, she would have turned dove-like in aminute, but unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts,and cannot see what goes on in the minds of our friends. Betterfor us that we cannot as a general thing, but now and then itwould be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper. By hernext speech, Jo deprived herself of several years of pleasure, andreceived a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue.

"I don't like favors, they oppress and make me feel like aslave. I'd rather do everything for myself, and be perfectlyindependent."

"Ahem!" coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March.

"I told you so," said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol.

Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose inthe air, and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting.

"Do you speak French, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, laying a hand on Amy's.

"Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk tome as often as I like," replied Amy, with a grateful look, whichcaused the old lady to smile affably.

"How are you about languages?" asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo.

"Don't know a word. I'm very stupid about studying anything,can't bear French, it's such a slippery, silly sort of language,"was the brusque reply.

Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March saidto Amy, "You are quite strong and well now, dear, I believe? Eyesdon't trouble you any more, do they?"

"Not at all, thank you, ma'am. I'm very well, and mean to dogreat things next winter, so that I may be ready for Rome, wheneverthat joyful time arrives."

"Good girl! You deserve to go, and I'm sure you will someday," said Aunt March, with an approving pat on the head, as Amypicked up her ball for her.

squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of herchair to peep into Jo's face, with such a comical air of impertinentinquiry that it was impossible to help laughing.

"Most observing bird," said the old lady.

"Come and take a walk, my dear?" cried Polly, hopping towardthe china closet, with a look suggestive of a lump of sugar.

"Thank you, I will. Come Amy." and Jo brought the visit toan end, feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a badeffect upon her constitution. She shook hands in a gentlemanlymanner, but Amy kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed,leaving behind them the impression of shadow and sunshine, whichimpression caused Aunt March to say, as they vanished . . .

"You'd better do it, Mary. I'll supply the money." and AuntCarrol to reply decidedly, "I certainly will, if her father andmother consent."