PART 2
47. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
(continued)
Yes, Jo was a very happy woman there, in spite of hard work,
much anxiety, and a perpetual racket. She enjoyed it heartily and
found the applause of her boys more satisfying than any praise of
the world, for now she told no stories except to her flock of
enthusiastic believers and admirers. As the years went on, two
little lads of her own came to increase her happiness--Rob,
named for Grandpa, and Teddy, a happy-go-lucky baby, who seemed
to have inherited his papa's sunshiny temper as well as his
mother's lively spirit. How they ever grew up alive in that
whirlpool of boys was a mystery to their grandma and aunts, but
they flourished like dandelions in spring, and their rough
nurses loved and served them well.
There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of
the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the
Marches, Laurences, Brookes. And Bhaers turned out in full force
and made a day of it. Five years after Jo's wedding, one of these
fruitful festivals occurred, a mellow October day, when the air
was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise
and the blood dance healthily in the veins. The old orchard wore
its holiday attire. Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls.
Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped
like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their
small harvesting. Birds twittered their adieux from the alders
in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower
of red or yellow apples at the first shake. Everybody was there.
Everybody laughed and sang, climbed up and tumbled down. Everybody
declared that there never had been such a perfect day or such
a jolly set to enjoy it, and everyone gave themselves up to
the simple pleasures of the hour as freely as if there were no
such things as care or sorrow in the world.
Mr. March strolled placidly about, quoting Tusser, Cowley,
and Columella to Mr. Laurence, while enjoying...
The gentle apple's winey juice.
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