Jack and Jill by Louisa May Alcott

pious here,” said Jill, with her eyes on the angel over the tree.

“A fellow can be awfully hungry, I know that. I didn’t half eat

breakfast, I was in such a hurry to see you, and know all about the

secrets. Frank kept saying I couldn’t guess, that you had come,

Jack and Jill lay silently watching, with a sweet sort of soberness

in their young faces, and for a moment the room was very still as

all eyes looked up at the Blessed Child. The sunshine seemed to

grow more golden as it flickered on the little head, the flames

glanced about the glittering tree as if trying to climb and kiss the

baby feet, and, without, a chime of bells rang sweetly, calling

people to hear again the lovely story of the life begun on Christmas

Day.

Only a minute, but it did them good, and presently, when the

pleasant work was over, and the workers gone, the boys to church,

and Mamma to see about lunch for the invalids, Jack said, gravely,

to Jill.

“I think we ought to be extra good, everyone is so kind to us, and

we are getting well, and going to have such capital times. Don’t see

how we can do anything else to show we are grateful.”

“It isn’t easy to be good when one is sick,” said Jill, thoughtfully. “I

fret dreadfully, I get so tired of being still. I want to scream

sometimes, but I don’t, because it would scare Mammy, so I cry.

Do you cry, Jack?”

“Men never do. I want to tramp round when things bother me; but I

can t, so I kick and say, ‘Hang it! and when I get very bad I pitch

into Frank, and he lets me. I tell you, Jill, he’s a good brother!” and

Jack privately resolved then and there to invite Frank to take it out

of him in any form he pleased as soon as health would permit.

“I rather think we shall grow good in this pretty place, for I don’t

see how we can be bad if we want to, it is all so nice and sort of

pious here,” said Jill, with her eyes on the angel over the tree.

“A fellow can be awfully hungry, I know that. I’d idn’t half eat

breakfast, I was in such a hurry to see you, and know all about the

secrets. Frank kept saying I couldn’t guess, that you had come,

and I never would be ready, till finally I got mad and fired an egg

at him, and made no end of a mess.”

Jack and Jill went off into a gale of laughter at the idea of

dignified Frank dodging the egg that smashed on the wall, leaving

an indelible mark of Jack’s besetting sin, impatience.

Just then Mrs. Minot came in, well pleased to hear such pleasant

sounds, and to see two merry faces, where usually one listless one

met her anxious eyes.

“The new medicine works well, neighbor,” she said to Mrs. Pecq,

who followed with the lunch tray.

“Indeed it does, mem. I feel as if I’d taken a sup myself, I’m that

easy in my mind.”

And she looked so, too, for she seemed to have left all her cares in

the little house when she locked the door behind her, and now

stood smiling with a clean apron on, so fresh and cheerful, that Jill

hardly knew her own mother.

“Things taste better when you have someone to eat with you,”

observed Jack, as they’d evoured sandwiches, and drank milk out

of little mugs with rosebuds on them.

“Don’t eat too much, or you won’t be ready for the next surprise,”

said his mother, when the plates were empty, and the last drop

gone down throats dry with much chatter.

“More surprises! Oh, what fun!” cried Jill. And all the rest of the

morning, in the intervals of talk and play, they tried to guess what

it could be.

At two o clock they found out, for dinner was served in the Bird

Room, and the children revelled in the simple feast prepared for

them. The two mothers kept the little bed-tables well supplied, and