PART 2
34. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
(continued)
"All may not be bad, only silly, you know, and if there
is a demand for it, I don't see any harm in supplying it.
Many very respectable people make an honest living out of
what are called sensation stories," said Jo, scratching gathers
so energetically that a row of little slits followed her pin.
"There is a demand for whisky, but I think you and I do
not care to sell it. If the respectable people knew what harm
they did, they would not feel that the living was honest. They
haf no right to put poison in the sugarplum, and let the small
ones eat it. No, they should think a little, and sweep mud in
the street before they do this thing."
Mr. Bhaer spoke warmly, and walked to the fire, crumpling
the paper in his hands. Jo sat still, looking as if the fire
had come to her, for her cheeks burned long after the cocked
hat had turned to smoke and gone harmlessly up the chimney.
"I should like much to send all the rest after him," muttered
the Professor, coming back with a relieved air.
Jo thought what a blaze her pile of papers upstairs would
make, and her hard-earned money lay rather heavily on her conscience
at that minute. Then she thought consolingly to herself,
"Mine are not like that, they are only silly, never bad,
so I won't be worried," and taking up her book, she said,
with a studious face, "Shall we go on, Sir? I'll be very
good and proper now."
"I shall hope so," was all he said, but he meant more than
she imagined, and the grave, kind look he gave her made her
feel as if the words Weekly Volcano were printed in large
type on her forehead.
As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers,
and carefully reread every one of her stories. Being a little
shortsighted, Mr. Bhaer sometimes used eye glasses, and Jo
had tried them once, smiling to see how they magnified the
fine print of her book. Now she seemed to have on the Professor's
mental or moral spectacles also, for the faults of these
poor stories glared at her dreadfully and filled her with dismay.
|