Eight Cousins (Bedtime Story) Chapter 17

Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott is a heartwarming novel that tells the story of Rose Campbell, a young girl who finds herself in a new and unfamiliar world after the death of her parents. At just 13 years old, Rose is sent to live with her great-aunts in the town of Aunt Hill. Her life, once solitary and sad, takes a dramatic turn when she is introduced to her seven lively and affectionate boy cousins. Initially overwhelmed by the boisterous nature of her cousins, Rose soon discovers that their energy and enthusiasm are just what she needs.

Transcript

Chapter 17 Good Bargains It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and four boys were trying to spend it quietly in the library,

As Jamie called the room devoted to books and boys at Aunt Jessie's.

Will and Geordie were sprawling on the sofa,

Deep in the adventures of the scapegraces and ragamuffins,

Whose histories are now the fashion,

Archie lounged in the easy chair surrounded by newspapers.

Charlie stood upon the rug,

In an Englishman's favorite attitude,

And,

I regret to say,

Both were smoking cigars.

It is my opinion that this day will never come to an end,

Said Prince.

Read and improve your mind,

My son,

Answered Archie,

Peering solemnly over the paper,

Behind which he had been dozing.

Would you preach,

Parson,

But put on your boots and come out for a tramp,

Instead of mulling over the fire like a granny?

No,

Thank you.

Tramps in an easterly storm don't strike me as amusing.

There Archie stopped and held up his hand,

For a pleasant voice was heard outside.

Are the boys in the library,

Aunty?

Yes,

Dear,

And longing for sunshine,

So run in and make it for them,

Answered Mrs.

Jessie.

It's Rose,

And Archie threw his cigar into the fire.

What's that for?

Asked Charlie.

Gentlemen don't smoke before ladies.

True,

But I am not going to waste my weed,

And Prince poked his into the empty inkstand that served them for an ashtray.

A gentle tap at the door was answered by a chorus of come in,

And Rose appeared looking bloomingly and breezy with a chilly air.

If I disturb you,

Say so,

And I'll go away,

She began,

Pausing on the threshold with modest hesitation,

For something in the older boy's faces excited her curiosity.

You never disturb us,

Cousin,

Said the smokers,

While the readers tore themselves from the heroes of the barroom and gutter long enough to note affably to their guest.

As Rose bent to warm her hands,

One end of Archie's cigar stuck out of the ashes,

Smoking furiously and smelling strongly.

Oh,

You bad boys,

How could you do it,

To-day of all days,

She said reproachfully.

Where is the harm?

Asked Archie.

You know as well as I do.

Your mother doesn't like it,

It is a bad habit,

For it wastes money,

And does you no good.

Fiddle-sticks every man smokes,

Even Uncle Alec,

Who you think so perfect,

Began Charlie,

In his teasing way.

No,

He doesn't.

He has given up,

And I know why,

Cried Rose eagerly.

Now I think of it,

I haven't seen the old Meerschaum since he came home.

Did he stop it on our account?

Asked Archie.

Yes,

And Rose took the little seed on the seashore in the camping-out time.

Archie seemed much impressed and said manfully,

He won't have done that in vain so far as I am concerned.

I don't care a pin about smoking,

So can give it up as easy as not.

And I promised you I will.

I only do it now,

And then for fun.

You too,

And Rose looked up at the bonny prince,

Who never looked less bonny than at that moment,

For he had resumed his cigar just to torment her.

Now Charlie cared as little as Archie about smoking,

But it would not do to yell too soon,

So he shook his head,

Gave a great puff and said loftily,

You women are always asking us to give up harmless little things just because you don't approve of them.

How would you like it if we did the same by you,

Miss?

If I did harmful or silly things,

I'd thank you for telling me of them,

And I'd try to mend my ways,

Answered Rose heartily.

Well,

Now we'll see if you mean that what you say.

I'll give up smoking to please you,

If you will give up something to please me,

Said prince.

Seeing a good chance to lord it over the weaker vessel,

At small cost to himself,

I'll agree if it is as foolish as cigars.

Oh,

It is ever so much sillier.

Then I promise.

What is it?

And Rose quite trembled with anxiety to know which of her pet habits or possessions she must lose.

Give up your earrings,

And Charlie laughed wickedly,

Sure that she would never hold that bargain.

For Rose uttered a cry and clapped both hands to her ears,

Where the gold rings hung.

Oh,

Charlie,

Wouldn't anything else do as well?

I've been through so much teasing and trouble.

I do want to enjoy my pretty earrings,

For I can wear them now.

Wear as many as you like,

And I'll smoke in peace,

Returned this bad boy.

Will nothing else satisfy you,

Imploringly?

Nothing,

Sternly.

Rose stood silent for a minute,

Thinking of something Aunt Jessie once said.

You have more influence over the boys than you know.

Use it for their good,

And I shall thank you all my life.

Here was a chance to do some good by sacrificing a little vanity of her own.

She felt it was right to do it,

Yet found it very hard,

And asked wistfully.

Do you mean never wear them,

Charlie?

Never unless you want me to smoke.

I never do.

Then clinch the bargain.

She had no idea she would do it,

And was much surprised when she took the deer rings from her ears with a quick gesture,

And held them out to him,

Saying in a tone that made the color come up to his brown cheeks.

It was so full of sweet goodwill.

I care more for my cousins than for my earrings,

So I promise and I'll keep my word.

For shame,

Prince,

Let her wear her little danglers if she likes,

And don't bargain about doing what you know is right,

Cried Archie,

Coming out of his grow of newspapers with an indignant bounce.

But Rose was bent on showing her aunt that she could use her influence for the boys' good,

And said steadily,

It is fair,

And I want it to be so.

Then you will believe I am in earnest.

Here each of you wear one of these on your watch-guard to remind you.

I shall not forget,

Because very soon I cannot wear earrings if I want to.

As she spoke,

Rose offered a little ring to each cousin,

And the boys,

Seeing how sincere she was,

Obeyed her.

When the bledges were safe,

Rose stretched a hand to each,

And the lads gave hers a hearty grip,

Half pleased and half ashamed of their part in the combat.

Just at that moment,

Dr.

Alec and Mrs.

Jessie came in.

What is this,

Dancing ladies?

Triumphs on Sunday,

Exclaimed Uncle Alec,

Serving the trio with surprise.

No,

Sir,

It is the Anti-Tobacco League.

Will you join?

Said Charlie,

While Rose slipped away to her aunt,

And Archie buried bolts across behind the back lock.

When the mystery was explained,

The elders were well pleased,

And Rose received a vote of thanks,

Which made her feel as if she had done a service to her country,

As she had for every boy who grows up free from bad habits bids fair to make a good citizen.

I wish Rose would drive a bargain with Will and Jody also,

For I think these books are as bad for the small boys as cigars for the large ones,

Said Mrs.

Jessie,

Sitting down on the sofa between the readers who politely curled up their legs to make room for her.

I thought they were old-fashioned,

Answered Dr.

Alec,

Settling in the big chair with Rose.

So is smoking,

But it is harmful.

The writers of these popular stories intend to do good,

I have no doubt,

But it seems to me they fail because their motto is,

Be smart and you will be rich,

Instead of be honest and you will be happy.

I do not judge hastily,

Alec,

For I have read a dozen least of these stories,

And with much that is attractive to boys,

I find a great deal to condemn in them,

And other parents say the same when I ask them.

Now mom,

That is too bad,

I like them,

Tip-top.

This one is a regular screamer,

Cried Will.

They are bully books,

And I'd like to know where's the harm,

Added Georgie.

You have just shown us one of the chief evils,

And that is slang,

Answered their mother quickly.

Must have it,

Mom.

If these chaps don't all write,

There'd be no fun in them,

Protested Will.

A boot-black mustn't use a good grammar,

And a newsboy must swear a little,

Or he wouldn't be natural,

Explained Georgie,

Both boys ready to fight gallantly for their favorites.

But my sons are neither boot-blacks or newsboys,

And I object to hearing them use such words as screamer,

Bully and a bustler.

In fact,

I fail to see the advantage of writing books about such people,

Unless it is done in a very different way.

I cannot think they will help to refine the ragamuffins if they read them,

And I'm sure they can do no good to the better class of boys who through these books are introduced to police courts,

Counterfeits,

Dens,

Gambling houses,

Drinking saloons and all sorts of low life.

Some of them are about first-rate boys,

Mutter,

And they go to sea and study and sail around the world,

Having great locks all the way.

I have read about them,

Georgie,

And though they are better than the others,

I am not satisfied with these optical delusions,

As I call them.

Now I put it to you boys,

Is it natural for lads from fifteen to eighteen to command ships,

Defeat pirates,

Outwit smugglers,

And so cover themselves with glory,

That Admiral Fargott invites them to dinner,

Saying,

Noble boy,

You are an honor to your country.

Or if the hero is in the army,

He has hair-bred escapes in one small volume to turn his hair white,

And in the end he goes to Washington at the express desire of the president or commander-in-chief be promoted to no end of stars and bars.

Even if the hero is merely an honest boy trying to get his living,

He is permitted to do so in a natural way by hard work and years of patient effort,

But is suddenly adopted by a millionaire whose pocket-book he is not permitted to do so in a natural way by a millionaire whose pocket-book he has returned,

Or a rich uncle appears from sea just in the nick of time,

Or the remarkable boy earns a few dollars,

Speculates in peanuts or neckties,

And grows rich so rapidly that Sinbad in the Diamond Valley is a pauper compared to him.

Isn't it so,

Boys?

Well,

The fellows in these books are mighty lucky and very smart,

I must say,

Answered with surveying an illustration on the open page before him,

Where a small-bought virtuous youth is upsetting a tipsy giant in a bar-room,

And under it the inscription Dick Dauntless punches the head of Sam Soker.

It gives the boys such a wrong idea of life and business,

Shows them so much evil and vulgarity that they need not to know about it,

And makes the one success worth having a fortune.

A lord's daughter,

Or some worldly honour often,

Not worth the time it takes to win.

It does seem to me that some one might write stories that should be lively,

Natural,

And helpful tales,

In which the English should be good,

The morals pure,

And the characters such as we can love in spite of their faults,

That all may have.

I cannot bear to see such crowds of eager little fellows at libraries,

Reading such trash,

Weak when it is not wicked,

And totally unfit to feed the hungry minds that feast on it for want of something better.

There,

My lecture is done.

Now I should like to hear what you gentlemen have to say.

And Aunt Jessie subsided with a pretty flush on the face that was full of motherly anxiety for her boys.

Tom Brown just suits mother,

And me too,

So I wish Mr.

Huge would write another story as good,

Said Archie.

You don't find things of that sort in Tom Brown,

Yet these books are all in the Sunday school libraries.

And Mrs.

Jessie read the following paragraph from the book she had taken from Will's hand.

In this place we saw a tooth of John the Baptist,

And said he could see a locust and white honey stick into it.

I couldn't.

Perhaps John used a piece of true cross for a toothpick.

A larky sort of boy says that,

Ma'am,

And we skip the parts where they describe what they saw in the different countries,

Cried Will.

And those descriptions taken mostly from guide books,

I fancy,

Are the only parts of any real word.

The scrapes of the bad boys make up the rest of the story,

And it is for those who read these books,

I think.

Said his mother,

Stroking back the hair of the harness' little face,

That looked rather abashed at this true statement of the case.

Anyway,

Mother,

The ship part is useful,

For we learn how to sail her,

And buy and buy that will all come handy when we go to sea,

Did Geordie.

Indeed,

Then you can explain this maneuver to me,

Of course.

Then Miss Jessie read from another page the following nautical paragraph.

The wind is south-southwest,

And we can have her up four points closer to the wind,

And still be six points off the wind.

We shall man the fore and main sheets,

Slack on the wetter,

And haul on the lee braces.

I guess I could if I wasn't afraid of uncle.

He knows so much more than I do.

But laugh,

Began Geordie,

Evidently puzzled by the question.

How you know you can't,

So why make believe we don't understand half of the sailing,

Oh ma'am,

And I dare say it's all wrong,

Cried Will,

Suddenly going over the enemy,

To Geordie's great disgust.

I do wish the boys wouldn't talk to me as if I was a ship,

Said Rose,

Bringing forward a private grievance.

Coming home from church this morning,

The wind blew me about,

And Will called out right in the street,

Rail up the fore sail and take in the flying ship,

That will ease her.

The boys shouted at the plaintive tone in which Rose repeated the words that offended her,

And Will vainly endeavored to explain that he only meant to tell her to wrap her cloak closer and tie a veil over the tempest-tossed feathers in her hat.

To tell the truth,

If the boys must have slang,

I can bear the sealing,

Oh,

As Will calls it,

Better than the utter.

It afflicts me less to hear my sons talk about railing up the fore sail than doing as they darn please,

And cut your cable is decidedly preferable to let her rip.

I once made a rule that I would have no slang in the house.

I give it up now,

For I cannot keep it,

But I will not have rubbishy books.

So Archie,

Please send these two after your cigars.

Miss Jessie hauled both the small boys fast,

With arm around each neck,

And when she took this bay's advantage of them,

They could only squirm with dismay.

Yes,

Right behind the back lock,

She continued,

There my heart is.

You like sea slang,

So I will give you a bit.

Now I want you to promise me not to read any more stuff for a month,

And I'll agree to supply you with wholesome fare.

Oh,

Mother,

Not a single one,

Cried Will,

Wouldn't we just finish toast,

Bleated Georgie.

The boys threw away half-smoked cigars,

And your books must go after them.

Surely you would not be outdone by the old fellows,

As you called them,

Or be less obedient to little Mom than they were to Rose.

Course not.

Come on,

Geordie.

And Will took the vow like a hero.

His brother sighed and obeyed,

But privately resolved to finish his story the minute the month was over.

You have laid out a hard task for yourself,

Jessie,

In trying to provide good reading for boys who have been living on sensation stories.

It will be like going from raspberry tarts to plain bread and butter,

But you will probably save them from a bilious fever,

Said Dr.

Alec,

Much amused at the proceedings.

I remember hearing Grandpa say that a love for good books was one of the best safeguards a man could have,

Began Archie,

Staring thoughtfully at the fine library before him.

Yes,

But there's no time to read nowadays.

A fellow has to keep scratching round to make money,

Or he's nobody,

Cut in Charlie,

Trying to look worldly wise.

This love for money is the curse of America,

And for the sake of it men will sell honour and honesty.

Till we don't know who to trust,

And it is only a genius like Agassiz who dares to say,

I cannot waste my time in getting rich,

Said Miss Jessie sadly.

Do you want us to be poor,

Mother?

Asked Archie,

Wondering.

No dear,

And you never need to be,

While you can use your hands,

But I am afraid of this thirst for wealth and the temptations it brings.

Oh my boys,

I tremble for the time when I must let you go,

Because I think it would break my heart to have you fail,

As so many fail.

It would be far easier to see you dead,

If it could be said of you as a summoner.

No man dared offer him a bride.

Miss Jessie was so earnest in her motherly anxiety,

That her voice faltered over the last words,

And she hugged the yellow heads closer in her arms,

As if she feared to let them leave that safe harbour for the great sea where so many little boats go down.

The younger lads nestled closer to her,

And Archie said in his quiet resolute way,

I cannot promise to be an Agassiz or a summoner,

Mother,

But I do promise to be an honest man,

Please God.

Then I am satisfied,

And holding fast the hand he gave her,

She sealed his promise with a kiss that had all a mother's hope and faith in it.

I don't see how they ever can be bad.

She is so fond and proud of them,

Whispered Rose quite touched by this little scene.

You must help her make them what they should be.

You have begun already,

And when I see those rings where they wear my girl is prettier in my sight than if the biggest diamonds that ever twinkled shone in her ears,

Answered Dr.

Alec,

Looking at her with proving eyes.

I'm so glad you think I can do anything,

For I perfectly ache to be useful.

Everyone is so good to me,

Especially Aunt Jessie.

I think you are in fair way to pay your debts,

Rosie,

For when girls give up their little vanities and boys their small vices and try to strengthen each other in well-doing,

Matters are going as they ought.

Work away,

My dear,

And help the mother keep these sons fit friends for an innocent creature like yourself.

They will be the manlier men for it,

I can assure you.