Little women

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES

Like most other young matrons, Meg began her married life with thedetermination to be a model housekeeper. John should find home aparadise, he should always see a smiling face, should fare sumptuouslyevery day, and never know the loss of a button. She brought so much love,energy, and cheerfulness to the work that she could not but succeed, inspite of some obstacles. Her paradise was not a tranquil one, for the littlewoman fussed, was over-anxious to please, and bustled about like a trueMartha, cumbered with many cares. She was too tired, sometimes, even tosmile, John grew dyspeptic after a course of dainty dishes and ungratefullydemanded plain fare. As for buttons, she soon learned to wonder wherethey went, to shake her head over the carelessness of men, and to threatento make him sew them on himself, and see if his work would standimpatient and clumsy fingers any better than hers. 

They were very happy, even after they discovered that they couldn't liveon love alone. John did not find Meg's beauty diminished, though shebeamed at him from behind the familiar coffee pot. Nor did Meg miss anyof the romance from the daily parting, when her husband followed up hiskiss with the tender inquiry, "Shall I send some veal or mutton for dinner,darling?" The little house ceased to be a glorified bower, but it became ahome, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change for the better. Atfirst they played keep-house, and frolicked over it like children. Then Johntook steadily to business, feeling the cares of the head of a family upon hisshoulders, and Meg laid by her cambric wrappers, put on a big apron, andfell to work, as before said, with more energy than discretion. 

While the cooking mania lasted she went through Mrs. Cornelius'sReceipt Book as if it were a mathematical exercise, working out theproblems with patience and care. Sometimes her family were invited in tohelp eat up a too bounteous feast of successes, or Lotty would be privatelydispatched with a batch of failures, which were to be concealed from alleyes in the convenient stomachs of the little Hummels. An evening withJohn over the account books usually produced a temporary lull in theculinary enthusiasm, and a frugal fit would ensue, during which the poorman was put through a course of bread pudding, hash, and warmed-overcoffee, which tried his soul, although he bore it with praiseworthyfortitude. Before the golden mean was found, however, Meg added to herdomestic possessions what young couples seldom get on long without, afamily jar. 

Fired with a housewifely wish to see her storeroom stocked withhomemade preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. Johnwas requested to order home a dozen or so of little pots and an extraquantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe and were to be attendedto at once. As John firmly believed that 'my wife' was equal to anything,and took a natural pride in her skill, he resolved that she should begratified, and their only crop of fruit laid by in a most pleasing form forwinter use. Home came four dozen delightful little pots, half a barrel ofsugar, and a small boy to pick the currants for her. With her pretty hairtucked into a little cap, arms bared to the elbow, and a checked apronwhich had a coquettish look in spite of the bib, the young housewife fell towork, feeling no doubts about her success, for hadn't she seen Hannah do ithundreds of times? The array of pots rather amazed her at first, but Johnwas so fond of jelly, and the nice little jars would look so well on the topshelf, that Meg resolved to fill them all, and spent a long day picking,boiling, straining, and fussing over her jelly. She did her best, she askedadvice of Mrs. Cornelius, she racked her brain to remember what Hannahdid that she left undone, she reboiled, resugared, and restrained, but thatdreadful stuff wouldn't 'jell'.

She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask Mother to lend her a hand,but John and she had agreed that they would never annoy anyone with theirprivate worries, experiments, or quarrels. They had laughed over that lastword as if the idea it suggested was a most preposterous one, but they hadheld to their resolve, and whenever they could get on without help they didso, and no one interfered, for Mrs. March had advised the plan. So Megwrestled alone with the refractory sweetmeats all that hot summer day, andat five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvey kitchen, wrung her bedaubedhands, lifted up her voice and wept.