Jack and Jill by Louisa May Alcott

sigh of relief that six months instead of twenty years would

probably be the end of her captivity.

“Yes, thank Heaven! I don’t think I could have borne that”; and

the mother took Jill in her arms as if she were a baby, holding her

close for a minute, and laying her down with a tender kiss that

made the arms cling about her neck as her little girl returned it

heartily, for all sorts of new, sweet feelings seemed to be budding

in both, born of great joy and thankfulness.

Then Mrs. Pecq hurried away to see about tea for the hungry boys,

and Jill watched the pleasant twilight deepen as she lay singing to

herself one of the songs her friend taught her because it fitted her

so well.

“A little bird I am,

Shut from the fields of air,

And in my cage I sit and sing

To Him who placed me there:

Well pleased a prisoner to be,

Because, my God, it pleases Thee!

“Naught have I else to do;

I sing the whole day long;

And He whom most I love to please

Doth listen to my song,

He caught and bound my wandering wing,

But still He bends to hear me sing.”

“Now we are ready for you, so bring on your flowers,” said Molly

to the boys, as she and Merry added their store of baskets to the

gay show Jill had set forth on the long table ready for the evening’s

work.

“They wouldn’t let me see one, but I guess they have had good

luck, they look so jolly,” answered Jill, looking at Gus, Frank, and

Jack, who stood laughing, each with a large basket in his hands.

“Fair to middling. Just look in and see”; with which cheerful

remark Gus tipped up his basket and displayed a few bits of green

at the bottom.

“I’d id better. Now, don’t all scream at once over these beauties”;

and Frank shook out some evergreen sprigs, half a dozen

saxifrages, and two or three forlorn violets with hardly any stems.

“I don’t brag, but here’s the best of all the three,” chuckled Jack,

producing a bunch of feathery carrot-tops, with a few half-shut

dandelions trying to look brave and gay.

“Oh, boys, is that all?”

“What shall we do?”

“We’ve only a few house-flowers, and all those baskets to fill,”

cried the girls, in despair; for Merry’s contribution had been small,

and Molly had only a handful of artificial flowers “to fill up,” she

said.

“It isn’t our fault: it is the late spring. We can’t make flowers, can

we?” asked Frank, in a tone of calm resignation.

“Couldn’t you buy some, then?” said Molly, smoothing her

crumpled morning-glories, with a sigh.

‘Who ever heard of a fellow having any money left the last day of

the month?” demanded Gus, severely.

“Or girls either. I spent all mine in ribbon and paper for my

baskets, and now they are of no use. It’s a shame!” lamented Jill,

while Merry began to thin out her full baskets to fill the empty

ones.

“Hold on!” cried Frank, relenting. “Now, Jack, make their minds

easy before they begin to weep and wail.”

“Left the box outside. You tell while I go for it”; and Jack bolted,

as if afraid the young ladies might be too demonstrative when the

tale was told.

“Tell away,” said Frank, modestly passing the story along to Gus,

who made short work of it.

“We rampaged all over the country, and got only that small mess

of greens. Knew you’d be disgusted, and sat down to see what we

could do. Then Jack piped up, and said he’d show us a place where

we could get a plenty. ‘Come on,’ said we, and after leading us a

nice tramp, he brought us out at Morse’s greenhouse.

So we got a few on tick, as we had but four cents among us, and

there you are. Pretty clever of the little chap, wasn’t it?”

A chorus of delight greeted Jack as he popped his head in, was

promptly seized by his elders and walked up to the table, where the

box was opened, displaying gay posies enough to fill most of the

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