No one would own that they were tired of the experiment, but by Friday night each acknowledged to herself that she was glad the week was nearly done. Hoping to impress the lesson more deeply, Mrs. March, who had a good deal of humor, resolved to finish off the trial in an appropriate manner, so she gave Hannah a holiday and let the girls enjoy the full effect of the play system.
When they got up on Saturday morning, there was no fire in the kitchen, no breakfast in the dining room, and no mother anywhere to be seen.
“Mercy on us! What has happened?” cried Jo, staring about her in dismay.
Meg ran upstairs and soon came back again, looking relieved but rather bewildered, and a little ashamed.
“Mother isn’t sick, only very tired, and she says she is going to stay quietly in her room all day and let us do the best we can. It’s a very queer thing for her to do, she doesn’t act a bit like herself. But she says it has been a hard week for her, so we mustn’t grumble but take care of ourselves.”
“That’s easy enough, and I like the idea, I’m aching for something to do, that is, some new amusement, you know,” added Jo quickly.
In fact it was an immense relief to them all to have a little work, and they took hold with a will, but soon realized the truth of Hannah’s saying, “Housekeeping ain’t no joke.” There was plenty of food in the larder, and while Beth and Amy set the table, Meg and Jo got breakfast, wondering as they did why servants ever talked about hard work.
“I shall take some up to Mother, though she said we were not to think of her, for she’d take care of herself,” said Meg, who presided and felt quite matronly behind the teapot.
So a tray was fitted out before anyone began, and taken up with the cook’s compliments. The boiled tea was very bitter, the omelet scorched, and the biscuits speckled with saleratus, but Mrs. March received her repast with thanks and laughed heartily over it after Jo was gone.
“Poor little souls, they will have a hard time, I’m afraid, but they won’t suffer, and it will do them good,” she said, producing the more palatable viands with which she had provided herself, and disposing of the bad breakfast, so that their feelings might not be hurt, a motherly little deception for which they were grateful.
Many were the complaints below, and great the chagrin of the head cook at her failures. “Never mind, I’ll get the dinner and be servant, you be mistress, keep your hands nice, see company, and give orders,” said Jo, who knew still less than Meg, about culinary affairs.
This obliging offer was gladly accepted, and Margaret retired to the parlor, which she hastily put in order by whisking the litter under the sofa and shutting the blinds to save the trouble of dusting. Jo, with perfect faith in her own powers and a friendly desire to make up the quarrel, immediately put a note in the office, inviting Laurie to dinner.
“You’d better see what you have got before you think of having company,” said Meg, when informed of the hospitable but rash act.
“Oh, there’s corned beef and plenty of potatoes, and I shall get some asparagus and a lobster, `for a relish’, as Hannah says. We’ll have lettuce and make a salad. I don’t know how, but the book tells. I’ll have blancmange and strawberries for dessert, and coffee too, if you want to be elegant.”
“Don’t try too many messes, Jo, for you can’t make anything but gingerbread and molasses candy fit to eat. I wash my hands of the dinner party, and since you have asked Laurie on your own responsibility, you may just take care of him.”
“I don’t want you to do anything but be civil to him and help to the pudding. You’ll give me your advice if I get in a muddle, won’t you?” asked Jo, rather hurt.
“Yes, but I don’t know much, except about bread and a few trifles. You had better ask Mother’s leave before you order anything,” returned Meg prudently.