Jack and Jill by Louisa May Alcott

while the talk went on.

“I wish I was twenty, and going to seek my fortune, as you are,

“said Jack; and the other boys agreed with him, for something in

Ralph’s new plans and purposes roused the manly spirit in all of

them, reminding them that playtime would soon be over, and the

great world before them, where to choose.

“It is easy enough to say what you’d like; but the trouble is, you

have to take what you can get, and make the best of it,” said Gus,

whose own views were rather vague as yet.

“No you don’t, always; you can make things go as you want them,

if you only try hard enough, and walk right over whatever stands in

the way. I don’t mean to give up my plans for any man; but, if I

live, I’ll carry them out–you see if I don’t”; and Frank gave the

rock where he lay a blow with his fist, that sent the acorns flying

all about.

One of them hit Jack, and he said, sorrowfully, as he held it in his

hand so carefully it was evident he had some association with it,

“Ed used to say that, and he had some splendid plans, but they

didn’t come to anything.”

“Perhaps they did; who can tell? Do your best while you live, and I

don’t believe anything good is lost, whether we have it a long or a

short time,” said Ralph, who knew what a help and comfort high

hopes were, and how they led to better things, if worthily

cherished.

“A great many acorns are wasted, I suppose; but some of them

sprout and grow, and make splendid trees,” added Merry, feeling

more than she knew how to express, as she looked up at the oaks

overhead.

Only seven of the party were sitting on the knoll now, for the rest

had gone to wash the dishes and pack the baskets down by the

boats. Jack and Jill, with the three elder boys, were in a little

group, and as Merry spoke, Gus said to Frank,

“Did you plant yours?”

“Yes, on the lawn, and I mean it shall come up if I can make it,”

answered Frank, gravely.

“I put mine where I can see it from the window, and not forget to

water and take care of it,” added Jack, still turning the pretty

brown acorn to and fro as if he loved it.

“What do they mean?” whispered Merry to Jill, who was leaning

against her knee Lo rest.

“The boys were walking in the Cemetery last Sunday, as they often

do, and when they came to Ed’s grave, the place was all covered

with little acorns from the tree that grows on the bank. They each

took up some as they stood talking, and Jack said he should plant

his, for he loved Ed very much, you know. The others said they

would, too; and I hope the trees will grow, though we don’t need

anything to remember him by,” answered Jill, in a low tone,

thinking of the pressed flowers the girls kept for his sake.

The boys heard her, but no one spoke for a moment as they sat

looking across the river toward the hill where the pines whispered

their lullabies and pointed heavenward, steadfast and green, all the

year round. None of them could express the thought that was in

their minds as Jill told the little story; but the act and the feeling

that prompted it were perhaps as beautiful an assurance as could

have been given that the dear dead boy’s example had not been

wasted, for the planting of the acorns was a symbol of the desire

budding in those young hearts to be what he might have been, and

to make their lives nobler for the knowledge and the love of him.

“It seems as if a great deal had happened this year,” said Merry, in

a pensive tone, for this quiet talk just suited her mood.

“So I say, for there’s been a Declaration of Independence and a

Revolution in our house, and I’m commander-in-chief now; and

don’t I like it!” cried Molly, complacently surveying the neat new

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