generous, warm-hearted little thing, I should love her even if she
were twice as naughty,” answered Mrs. Jo, pointing to the merry
group, in the middle of which stood Nan, giving away her things
right and left, as lavishly as if the big band-box had no bottom.
It was those good traits that soon made little “Giddygaddy,” as they
called her, a favorite with every one. Daisy never complained of
being dull again, for Nan invented the most delightful plays, and
her pranks rivalled Tommy’s, to the amusement of the whole
school. She buried her big doll and forgot it for a week, and found
it well mildewed when she dragged it up. Daisy was in despair, but
Nan took it to the painter who as at work about the house, got him
to paint it brick red, with staring black eyes, then she dressed it up
with feathers, and scarlet flannel, and one of Ned’s leaden
hatchets; and in the character of an Indian chief, the late
Poppydilla tomahawked all the other dolls, and caused the nursery
to run red with imaginary gore. She gave away her new shoes to a
beggar child, hoping to be allowed to go barefoot, but found it
impossible to combine charity and comfort, and was ordered to ask
leave before disposing of her clothes. She delighted the boys by
making a fire-ship out of a shingle with two large sails wet with
turpentine, which she lighted, and then sent the little vessel
floating down the brook at dusk. She harnessed the old
turkey-cock to a straw wagon, and made him trot round the house
at a tremendous pace. She gave her coral necklace for four
unhappy kittens, which had been tormented by some heartless lads,
and tended them for days as gently as a mother, dressing their
wounds with cold cream, feeding them with a doll’s spoon, and
mourning over them when they died, till she was consoled by one
of Demi’s best turtles. She made Silas tattoo an anchor on her arm
like his, and begged hard to have a blue star on each cheek, but he
dared not do it, though she coaxed and scolded till the soft-hearted
fellow longed to give in. She rode every animal on the place, from
the big horse Andy to the cross pig, from whom she was rescued
with difficulty. Whatever the boys dared her to do she instantly
attempted, no matter how dangerous it might be, and they were
never tired of testing her courage.
Mr. Bhaer suggested that they should see who would study best,
and Nan found as much pleasure in using her quick wits and fine
memory as her active feet and merry tongue, while the lads had to
do their best to keep their places, for Nan showed them that girls
could do most things as well as boys, and some things better.
There were no rewards in school, but Mr. Bhaer’s “Well done!” and
Mrs. Bhaer’s good report on the conscience book, taught them to
love duty for its own sake, and try to do it faithfully, sure sooner or
later the recompense would come. Little Nan was quick to feel the
new atmosphere, to enjoy it, to show that it was what she needed;
for this little garden was full of sweet flowers, half hidden by the
weeds; and when kind hands gently began to cultivate it, all sorts
of green shoots sprung up, promising to blossom beautifully in the
warmth of love and care, the best climate for young hearts and
souls all the world over.
CHAPTER VIII PRANKS AND PLAYS
As there is no particular plan to this story, except to describe a few
scenes in the life at Plumfield for the amusement of certain little
persons, we will gently ramble along in this chapter and tell some
of the pastimes of Mrs. Jo’s boys. I beg leave to assure my honored
readers that most of the incidents are taken from real life, and that
the oddest are the truest; for no person, no matter how vivid an
imagination he may have, can invent anything half so droll as the
freaks and fancies that originate in the lively brains of little people.