Jack and Jill - Louisa May Alcott (electronic book reader TXT) 📗

“Speaking of bread and butter reminds me that we'd better eat ours before the coffee gets quite cold,” said Annette, for Merry seemed to have forgotten that she had been chosen to play matron, as she was the oldest.

The boys seconded the motion, and for a few minutes supper was the all-absorbing topic, as the cups went round and the goodies vanished rapidly, accompanied by the usual mishaps which make picnic meals such fun. Ralph's health was drunk with all sorts of good wishes; and such splendid prophecies were made, that he would have far surpassed Michael Angelo, if they could have come true. Grif gave him an order on the spot for a full-length statue of himself, and stood up to show the imposing attitude in which he wished to be taken, but unfortunately slipped and fell forward with one hand in the custard pie, the other clutching wildly at the coffee-pot, which inhospitably burnt his fingers.

“I think I grasp the idea, and will be sure to remember not to make your hair blow one way and the tails of your coat another, as a certain sculptor made those of a famous man,” laughed Ralph, as the fallen hero scrambled up, amidst general merriment.

“Will the little bust be done before you go?” asked Jill, anxiously, feeling a personal interest in the success of that order.

“Yes: I've been hard at it every spare minute I could get, and have a fortnight more. It suits Mrs. Lennox, and she will pay well for it, so I shall have something to start with, though I haven't been able to save much. I'm to thank you for that, and I shall send you the first pretty thing I get hold of,” answered Ralph, looking gratefully at the bright face, which grew still brighter as Jill exclaimed,—

“I do feel so proud to know a real artist, and have my bust done by him. I only wish I could pay for it as Mrs. Lennox does; but I haven't any money, and you don't need the sort of things I can make,” she added, shaking her head, as she thought over knit slippers, wall-pockets, and crochet in all its forms, as offerings to her departing friend.

“You can write often, and tell me all about everybody, for I shall want to know, and people will soon forget me when I'm gone,” said Ralph, looking at Merry, who was making a garland of yellow leaves for Juliet's black hair.

Jill promised, and kept her word; but the longest letters went from the farm-house on the hill, though no one knew the fact till long afterward. Merry said nothing now, but she smiled, with a pretty color in her cheeks, and was very much absorbed in her work, while the talk went on.

“I wish I was twenty, and going to seek my fortune, as you are,” said Jack; and the other boys agreed with him, for something in Ralph's new plans and purposes roused the manly spirit in all of them, reminding them that playtime would soon be over, and the great world before them, where to choose.

“It is easy enough to say what you'd like; but the trouble is, you have to take what you can get, and make the best of it,” said Gus, whose own views were rather vague as yet.

“No you don't, always; you can make things go as you want them, if you only try hard enough, and walk right over whatever stands in the way. I don't mean to give up my plans for any man; but, if I live, I'll carry them out—you see if I don't;” and Frank gave the rock where he lay a blow with his fist, that sent the acorns flying all about.

One of them hit Jack, and he said, sorrowfully, as he held it in his hand so carefully it was evident he had some association with it,—

“Ed used to say that, and he had some splendid plans, but they didn't come to anything.”

“Perhaps they did; who can tell? Do your best while you live, and I don't believe anything good is lost, whether we have it a long or a short time,” said Ralph, who knew what a help and comfort high hopes were, and how they led to better things, if worthily cherished.

“A great many acorns are wasted, I suppose; but some of them sprout and grow, and make splendid trees,” added Merry, feeling more than she knew how to express, as she looked up at the oaks overhead.

Only seven of the party were sitting on the knoll now, for the rest had gone to wash the dishes and pack the baskets down by the boats. Jack and Jill, with the three elder boys, were in a little group, and as Merry spoke, Gus said to Frank,—

“Did you plant yours?”

“Yes, on the lawn, and I mean it shall come up if I can make it,” answered Frank, gravely.

“I put mine where I can see it from the window, and not forget to water and take care of it,” added Jack, still turning the pretty brown acorn to and fro as if he loved it.

“What do they mean?” whispered Merry to Jill, who was leaning against her knee to rest.

“The boys were walking in the Cemetery last Sunday, as they often do, and when they came to Ed's grave, the place was all covered with little acorns from the tree that grows on the bank. They each took up some as they stood talking, and Jack said he should plant his, for he loved Ed very much, you know. The others said they would, too; and I hope the trees will grow, though we don't need anything to remember him by,” answered Jill, in a low tone, thinking of the pressed flowers the girls kept for his sake.

The boys heard her, but no one spoke for a moment as they sat looking across the river toward the hill where the pines whispered their lullabies and pointed heavenward, steadfast and green, all the year round. None of them could express the thought that was in their minds as Jill told the little story; but the act and the feeling that prompted it were perhaps as beautiful an assurance as could have been given that the dear dead boy's example had not been wasted, for the planting of the acorns was a symbol of the desire budding in those young hearts to be what he might have been, and to make their lives nobler for the knowledge and the love of him.

“It seems as if a great deal had happened this year,” said Merry, in a pensive tone, for this quiet talk just suited her mood.

“So I say, for there's been a Declaration of Independence and a Revolution in our house, and I'm commander-in-chief now; and don't I like it!” cried Molly, complacently surveying the neat new uniform she wore of her own choosing.

“I feel as if I never learned so much in my life as I have since last December, and yet I never did so little,” added Jill, wondering why the months of weariness and pain did not seem more dreadful to her.

“Well, pitching on my head seems to have given me a good shaking up, somehow, and I mean to do great things next year in better ways than breaking my bones coasting,” said Jack, with a manly air.

“I feel like a Siamese twin without his mate now you are gone, but I'm under orders for a while, and mean to do my best. Guess it won't be lost time;” and Frank nodded at Gus, who nodded back with the slightly superior expression all Freshmen wear.

“Hope you won't find it so. My work is all cut out for me, and I intend to go in and win, though it is more of a grind than you fellows know.”

“I'm sure I have everything to be grateful for. It won't be plain sailing—I don't expect it; but, if I live, I'll do something to be proud of,” said Ralph, squaring his shoulders as if to meet and conquer all obstacles as he looked into the glowing west, which was not fairer than his ambitious dreams.

Here we will say good-by to these girls and boys of ours as they sit together in the sunshine talking over a year that was to be for ever memorable to them, not because of any very remarkable events, but because they were just beginning to look about them as they stepped out of childhood into youth, and some of the experiences of the past months had set them to thinking, taught them to see the use and beauty of the small duties, joys, and sorrows which make up our lives, and inspired them to resolve that the coming year should be braver and brighter than the last.

There are many such boys and girls, full of high hopes, lovely possibilities, and earnest plans, pausing a moment before they push their little boats from the safe shore. Let those who launch them see to it that they have good health to man the oars, good education for ballast, and good principles as pilots to guide them as they voyage down an ever-widening river to the sea.