Domestic Experiences

Like most other young matrons, Meg began her married life with the determination to be a model housekeeper. She brought much love, energy, and cheerfulness to the work. She wanted to succeed, in spite of some obstacles.

They were very happy, even after they discovered that they couldn’t live on love alone. John did not find Meg’s beauty diminished, though she beamed at him from behind the familiar coffee pot. The little house ceased to be a glorified bower. It became a home, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change for the better. John took steadily to business, feeling the cares of the head of a family upon his shoulders. Meg put on a big apron, and fell to work.

In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat renewed her friendship. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often felt lonely. Seeing Sallie’s pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because she did not get them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the coveted trifles, but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn’t like it.

She knew her husband’s income, and she loved to feel that he trusted her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to value more – his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she liked. All he asked was to keep account of every penny, pay bills once a month, and remember that she was a poor man’s wife. Till now she has done well. But that autumn the serpent got into Meg’s paradise, and tempted her like many a modern Eve, not with apples, but with dress.

Sallie was buying silks, and Meg longed for a new one, just a handsome light one for parties. Sallie urged her to do it, offered to lend the money. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said,

“A bargain, I assure, you, ma’am.”

She answered,

“I’ll take it,” and it was cut off. She paid for it.

When she got home, the words ‘fifty dollars’ seemed stamped like a pattern down the fabric. She put it away, but it haunted her, not delightfully as a new dress should, but dreadfully. When John got out his books that night, Meg’s heart sank. For the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked stern. Though he was unusually merry, she was afraid. The house bills were all paid, the books all in order. John praised her, and was undoing the old pocketbook which they called the ‘bank’, when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand. She said nervously,

“You haven’t seen my private expense book^[16] yet.”

John never asked to see it, but she always insisted on his doing so. She brought the little book slowly. The book was laid down before him. Meg got behind his chair. She said, with her panic increasing with every word,

“John, dear, I’m ashamed to show you my book, for I’ve really been dreadfully extravagant lately. I meet people and I must have things, you know, and Sallie advised me to buy something. So I did, and my New Year’s money will partly pay for it. I was sorry after. I know what you will think of it.”

John laughed, and drew her round beside him,

“Don’t hide. I won’t beat you if you have got a pair of boots. I’m rather proud of my wife’s feet, and don’t mind if she pays eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones.”

That was one of her last ‘trifles’, and John’s eye fell on it as he spoke.

“It’s worse than boots, it’s a silk dress,” she said.

“Well, dear, what is the total?”

For a minute the room was very still, then John said slowly – but she could feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure,

“Well, I don’t know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the details you have to have to finish it off these days.”

“It isn’t made or trimmed,” sighed Meg, faintly.

“Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I’ve no doubt my wife will look fine,” said John dryly.

“I know you are angry, John, but I can’t do anything. I don’t mean to waste your money. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I’m tired of being poor^[17].”

The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but he did. They wounded him deeply. He denied himself many pleasures for Meg’s sake. She wanted to bite her tongue out the minute she said it. John pushed the books away and got up. He said with a little quiver in his voice,

“I was afraid of this. I do my best, Meg.”

If he scolds her, or even shakes her, it won’t break her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears,

“Oh, John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy! I didn’t mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful. How could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!”

He was very kind. He forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach. But Meg knew that she did and said. Such a thing won’t be forgotten soon. A week of remorse nearly made Meg sick. The discovery that John countermanded the order for his new greatcoat reduced her to a state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He said simply, in answer to her surprised inquiries as to the change,

“I can’t afford it, my dear.”

Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall with her face buried in the old greatcoat. She was crying.

They had a long talk that night. Meg learned to love her husband better for his poverty. It has made a man of him, given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him a tender patience.

Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good-natured Mrs. Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the greatcoat. When John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his present, and what a blissful state of things ensued.

* * *

Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dovecote one Saturday, with an excited face.

“How’s the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn’t you tell me before I came home?”

“Happy as a queen, the dear! Now you go into the parlor,” with that reply Hannah vanished, chuckling ecstatically.

Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle. Jo’s face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion.

“Shut your eyes and hold out your arms,” she said invitingly.

“No, thank you. I’d rather not. I shall drop it or smash it.”

“Then you shan’t see your nephew,” said Jo decidedly.

“I will, I will! Only you must be responsible for damages.”

Obeying orders, Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms. A peal

of laughter from Jo, Amy, Mrs. March, Hannah, and John caused him to open them the next minute, to find two babies instead of one.

“Twins, by Jupiter!” was all he said, then he added, “Take them quick, somebody! I’m going to laugh, and I shall drop them.”

“It’s the best joke of the season, isn’t it?” said Jo.

“I never was more staggered in my life. Isn’t it fun? Are they boys? What are you going to name them? Let’s have another look.”

“Boy and girl. Aren’t they beauties?” said the proud papa.

“Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?”

“Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one brown. The boy’s name is John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisey, so as not to have two Megs. I suppose the boy will be Jack, unless we find a better name,” said Amy.

“Name him Demijohn, and call him Demi for short,” said Laurie.

“Daisy and Demi, just the thing^[18]!” cried Jo, clapping her hands.

Calls

“Come, Jo, it’s time.”

“Where?”

“You don’t mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls^[19] with me today? It was a bargain between us. It’s a lovely day, no prospect of rain. So be honorable, come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months.”

Jo hated calls of the formal sort, and never made any. In the present instance there was no escape. They visited a few houses and presently were walking towards Aunt March’s house.

“What a good girl you are, Amy!” said Jo. “I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to please people as it is for you. I think of them, but it takes too much time to do them.”

Amy smiled.

“Women must learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones. They have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive.”

“I’m a crotchety old thing, and always shall be. It’s a great misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, isn’t it?”

“It’s a greater not to be able to hide them.”

“But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove of young men, and how can they do it except by their manners? Shall we continue bearing things and people which we detest, merely because we are not belles and millionaires?”

“I can’t argue about it. I only know that it’s the way of the world. People who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their pains.”

“I like them, and I shall be one if I can. In spite of the laughing the world will never get on without them. We can’t agree 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.”

“Well, compose yourself now, and don’t worry Aunt with your new ideas.”

“It’s my doom, and I can’t help it.”

They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed in some very interesting subject, but they dropped it as the girls came in.

“Are you going to help about the fair, dear?” asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy sat down beside her.

“Yes, Aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me, and I offered to tend a table. I have nothing but my time to give.”

“I’m not,” put in Jo decidedly. “I hate to be patronized. The Chesters think it’s a great favor to allow us to help with their fair.”

“I want to work. I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun.”

“Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear. It’s a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts. Some do not, and that is trying,” observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo.

“I don’t like favors, they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I’d rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent.”

“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.

“Do you speak French, dear?” asked Mrs. Carrol, laying a hand on Amy’s.

“Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March,” replied Amy, with a grateful look, which caused 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. I hate French, it’s such a slippery, silly sort of language,” was the reply.

Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy,

“You are quite strong and well now, dear, I believe? Eyes don’t trouble you any more, do they?”

“Not at all, thank you, ma’am.”

“Good girl! You deserve to go, and I’m sure you will some day,” said Aunt March.