Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo’s Boys by Louisa May Alcott

think of all the lads in the town the happiest was the one in the

new mittens, who whistled like a blackbird as he filled his

mother’s wood-box.”

“That’s a first rater!” cried Dan, who enjoyed a simple

matter-of-face story better than the finest fairy tale; “I like that

fellow after all.”

“I could saw wood for you, Aunt Jo!” said Demi, feeling as if a

new means of earning money for his mother was suggested by the

story.

“Tell about a bad boy. I like them best,” said Nan.

“You’d better tell about a naughty cross-patch of a girl,” said

Tommy, whose evening had been spoilt by Nan’s unkindness. It

made his apple taste bitter, his pop-corn was insipid, his nuts were

hard to crack, and the sight of Ned and Nan on one bench made

him feel his life a burden.

But there were no more stories from Mrs. Jo, for on looking down

at Rob he was discovered to be fast asleep with his last corn firmly

clasped in his chubby hand. Bundling him up in his coverlet, his

mother carried him away and tucked him up with no fear of his

popping out again.

“Now let’s see who will come next,” said Emil, setting the door

temptingly ajar.

Mary Ann passed first, and he called out to her, but Silas had

warned her, and she only laughed and hurried on in spite of their

enticements. Presently a door opened, and a strong voice was

heard humming in the hall

“Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten

Dass ich so traurig bin.”

“It’s Uncle Fritz; all laugh loud and he will be sure to come in,”

said Emil.

A wild burst of laughter followed, and in came Uncle Fritz, asking,

“What is the joke, my lads?”

“Caught! caught! you can’t go out till you’ve told a story,” cried the

boys, slamming the door.

“So! that is the joke then? Well, I have no wish to go, it is so

pleasant here, and I pay my forfeit at once,” which he did by sitting

down and beginning instantly

“A long time ago your Grandfather, Demi, went to lecture in a

great town, hoping to get some money for a home for little orphans

that some good people were getting up. His lecture did well, and

he put a considerable sum of money in his pocket, feeling very

happy about it. As he was driving in a chaise to another town, he

came to a lonely bit of road, late in the afternoon, and was just

thinking what a good place it was for robbers when he saw a

bad-looking man come out of the woods in front of him and go

slowly along as if waiting till he came up. The thought of the

money made Grandfather rather anxious, and at first he had a mind

to turn round and drive away. But the horse was tired, and then he

did not like to suspect the man, so he kept on, and when he got

nearer and saw how poor and sick and ragged the stranger looked,

his heart reproached him, and stopping, he said in a kind voice

“‘My friend, you look tired; let me give you a lift.’ The man seemed

surprised, hesitated a minute, and then got in. He did not seem

inclined to talk, but Grandfather kept on in his wise, cheerful way,

speaking of what a hard year it had been, how much the poor had

suffered, and how difficult it was to get on sometimes. The man

slowly softened a little, and won by the kind chat, told his story.

How he had been sick, could get no work, had a family of children,

and was almost in despair. Grandfather was so full of pity that he

forgot his fear, and, asking the man his name, said he would try to

get him work in the next town, as he had friends there. Wishing to

get at pencil and paper to write down the address, Grandfather

took out his plump pocket-book, and the minute he did so, the

man’s eye was on it. Then Grandfather remembered what was in it

and trembled for his money, but said quietly