Хорошие жёны / Good wives. Уровень 3. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

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and it was cut off. She paid for it.

      When she got home, the words ‘fifty dollars’ seemed stamped like a pattern down the fabric. She put it away, but it haunted her, not delightfully as a new dress should, but dreadfully. When John got out his books that night, Meg’s heart sank. For the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked stern. Though he was unusually merry, she was afraid. The house bills were all paid, the books all in order. John praised her, and was undoing the old pocketbook which they called the ‘bank’, when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand. She said nervously,

      “You haven’t seen my private expense book[16] yet.”

      John never asked to see it, but she always insisted on his doing so. She brought the little book slowly. The book was laid down before him. Meg got behind his chair. She said, with her panic increasing with every word,

      “John, dear, I’m ashamed to show you my book, for I’ve really been dreadfully extravagant lately. I meet people and I must have things, you know, and Sallie advised me to buy something. So I did, and my New Year’s money will partly pay for it. I was sorry after. I know what you will think of it.”

      John laughed, and drew her round beside him,

      “Don’t hide. I won’t beat you if you have got a pair of boots. I’m rather proud of my wife’s feet, and don’t mind if she pays eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones.”

      That was one of her last ‘trifles’, and John’s eye fell on it as he spoke.

      “It’s worse than boots, it’s a silk dress,” she said.

      “Well, dear, what is the total?”

      For a minute the room was very still, then John said slowly – but she could feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure,

      “Well, I don’t know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the details you have to have to finish it off these days.”

      “It isn’t made or trimmed,” sighed Meg, faintly.

      “Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I’ve no doubt my wife will look fine,” said John dryly.

      “I know you are angry, John, but I can’t do anything. I don’t mean to waste your money. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I’m tired of being poor[17].”

      The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but he did. They wounded him deeply. He denied himself many pleasures for Meg’s sake. She wanted to bite her tongue out the minute she said it. John pushed the books away and got up. He said with a little quiver in his voice,

      “I was afraid of this. I do my best, Meg.”

      If he scolds her, or even shakes her, it won’t break her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears,

      “Oh, John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy! I didn’t mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful. How could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!”

      He was very kind. He forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach. But Meg knew that she did and said. Such a thing won’t be forgotten soon. A week of remorse nearly made Meg sick. The discovery that John countermanded the order for his new greatcoat reduced her to a state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He said simply, in answer to her surprised inquiries as to the change,

      “I can’t afford it, my dear.”

      Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall with her face buried in the old greatcoat. She was crying.

      They had a long talk that night. Meg learned to love her husband better for his poverty. It has made a man of him, given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him a tender patience.

      Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good-natured Mrs. Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the greatcoat. When John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his present, and what a blissful state of things ensued.

* * *

      Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dovecote one Saturday, with an excited face.

      “How’s the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn’t you tell me before I came home?”

      “Happy as a queen, the dear! Now you go into the parlor,” with that reply Hannah vanished, chuckling ecstatically.

      Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle. Jo’s face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion.

      “Shut your eyes and hold out your arms,” she said invitingly.

      “No, thank you. I’d rather not. I shall drop it or smash it.”

      “Then you shan’t see your nephew,” said Jo decidedly.

      “I will, I will! Only you must be responsible for damages.”

      Obeying orders, Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms. A peal

      of laughter from Jo, Amy, Mrs. March, Hannah, and John caused him to open them the next minute, to find two babies instead of one.

      “Twins, by Jupiter!” was all he said, then he added, “Take them quick, somebody! I’m going to laugh, and I shall drop them.”

      “It’s the best joke of the season, isn’t it?” said Jo.

      “I never was more staggered in my life. Isn’t it fun? Are they boys? What are you going to name them? Let’s have another look.”

      “Boy and girl. Aren’t they beauties?” said the proud papa.

      “Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?”

      “Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one brown. The boy’s name is John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisey, so as not to have two Megs. I suppose the boy will be Jack, unless we find a better name,” said Amy.

      “Name him Demijohn, and call him Demi for short,” said Laurie.

      “Daisy and Demi, just the thing[18]!” cried Jo, clapping her hands.

      Calls

      “Come, Jo, it’s time.”

      “Where?”

      “You don’t mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls[19] with me today? It was a bargain between us. It’s a lovely day, no prospect of rain. So be honorable, come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six

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