Eight Cousins (Bedtime Story) Part 2

"Eight Cousins" by Louisa May Alcott follows the story of Rose Campbell, a young orphan who is taken in by her wealthy and eccentric uncle, Dr. Alec. Rose's life is transformed as she is introduced to a new world of independence, adventure, and new relationships with her seven male cousins.

Through their influence, Rose learns valuable life lessons, grows in confidence and self-reliance, and navigates the challenges of growing up in a society that restricts women's freedom. As she navigates her journey to adulthood, Rose discovers her interests, passions, and voice, ultimately finding her place in the world.

Transcript

Chapter 2 The Clan Rose scrambled into the china closet as rapidly as possible,

And there refreshed herself by making faces at Debbie,

While she settled her plumage and screwed up her courage.

Then she crept softly down the hall and peeped into the parlour.

No one appeared,

And all was so still she felt sure,

So she skipped boldly through the half-open folding doors to behold on the other side a sight that nearly took her breath away.

Seven boys stood in a row,

All ages,

All sizes,

All yellow-haired and blue-eyed,

In a full Scottish costume,

And all smiling,

Nodding,

And saying as with one voice,

How are you,

Cousin?

Rose gave a little gasp and looked widely about her,

As if ready to fly,

For fear magnified the seven and the room seen full of boys.

Before she could run,

However,

The tallest lad stepped out of the line,

Saying pleasantly,

Do not be frightened,

This is the clan come to welcome you,

And I am the chief,

Archie,

At your service.

He aired out his hand as he spoke,

And Rose timidly put her own into a brown paw,

Which closed over the white morsel,

And held it as the chief continued his introductions.

We came in full rig,

For we always turn out in style on grand occasions.

Hope you like it.

Now I will tell you who these chaps are,

And then we shall be all right.

This big one is Prince Charlie,

And Clara's boy.

She has but one,

So he is an extra good one.

This old fellow is Mack,

The bookworm,

Called Worm for short.

This sweet creature is Steve,

The dandy.

Look at these gloves and topknot,

If you please.

They are Aunt Jane's lads,

And a precious pair,

You'd better believe.

These are the brats,

My brothers,

Geordie and Will,

And Jamie,

The baby.

Now my men step out and show your manners.

At this command,

To Rose's great dismay,

Six more hands were offered,

And it was evident that she was expected to shake them all.

It was a trying moment to the bashful child,

But remembering that they were her kinsmen come to welcome her,

She tried her best to return the greeting cordially.

This impressive ceremony being over,

The clan broke ranks,

And a boat-room instantly open appeared to be pervaded with boys.

Rose hastily retired to the shelter of a big chair,

And sat there watching the invaders and wondering when her aunt would come and rescue her.

As if bound to do their duty manfully,

Yet rather oppressed by it,

Each lad paused beside her chair in his wonderings,

Made a brief remark,

Received a still briefer answer,

And then sheered off with a relieved expression.

Archie came first,

And leaning over the chair back,

I am glad you have come,

Cousin,

And I hope you will find the Aunt Hill pretty jolly.

I think I shall.

Mac shook his hair out of his eyes,

Stumbled over a stool and asked abruptly,

Did you bring any books with you?

Four boxes full,

They are in the library.

Mac vanished from the room,

And Steve,

Striking an attitude which displayed his costume,

Effectively said with an affable smile,

We were sorry not to see you last Wednesday,

I hope your coat is better.

Yes,

Thank you,

And a smile began to dimple about Rose's mouth,

As she remembered her retreat under the bed cover.

Feeling that he had been received with distinguished marks of attention,

Steve strode away,

With his top not higher than ever,

And Prince Charlie pranced across the room,

Saying in a free and easy tone,

Mama sent her love and hopes you will be well enough to come over for a day next week.

It must be desperately dull here for a little thing like you.

I am thirteen and a half,

Though I do look small,

Cried Rose,

Forgetting her shyness in indignation at this insult to her newly acquired teens.

Beg pardon,

Ma'am,

Never should have guessed it,

And Charlie went off with a laugh,

Glad to have struck a spark out of this meek cousin.

Geordie and Will came together,

Two sturdy eleven and twelve year olders,

And fixing their round blue eyes on Rose,

Fired off a question apiece,

As if it was shooting match,

And she the target.

Did you bring your monkey?

No,

He is dead.

Are you going to have a boat?

I hope not.

Here the two,

With right about-face movement,

Marched away,

And little Jamie demanded with childish frankness,

Did you bring me anything nice?

Yes,

Lots of candy,

Answered Rose,

Whereupon Jamie ascended into her lap with a sounding kiss and the announcement that he liked her very much.

This proceeding rather startled Rose,

For the other lads looked and laughed,

And in her confusion she said hastily,

Did you see the circus go by?

When?

Where?

Cried all the boys in great excitement at once.

But before you came,

At least I thought it was a circus,

For I saw a red and black sort of cart,

And ever so many little ponies,

And.

.

.

She got no further,

For a general shout made her pause suddenly,

As Archie explained the joke by saying in the middle of his laugh,

It was our new dog-cart and the Shetland ponies.

You will never hear the last of your circus cousin.

But there were so many,

And they went so fast,

And the cart was so very red,

Began Rose trying to explain her mistake.

Come and see them all,

Cried the prince,

And before she knew what was happening,

She was borne away to the barn and simultaneously introduced the three shaggy ponies at the gay new dog-cart.

She had never visited these regions before,

And had her doubts as to the propriety of her being there now,

But when she suggested that,

And he might not like it,

There was a general cry of,

She taught us to amuse you,

And we can do it ever so much better out here than poking round in the house.

I am afraid I shall get cold without my sack,

Began Rose,

Who wanted to stay,

But felt rather out of her element.

No,

You won't,

We will fix you,

Cried the lads,

As one clad his cap on her head,

Another tied a rough jacket round her neck by the sleeves,

And third neatly smothered her in a carriage blanket,

And fourth drew open the door of the haute barouche that stood there,

Saying with a flourish,

Step in,

Ma'am,

And make yourself comfortable while we show you some fun.

So Rose sat in,

Stayed enjoying herself very much,

While the lads proceeded to dance a highland fling.

It was spirit and skill that made her clap her hands,

And laugh as she had not done for weeks.

How is that,

My lassie?

Asked the prince,

Coming up all flushed and breathless,

And the ballet was over.

It was splendid.

I never went to the theatre but once,

And the dancing was not half so pretty as this.

What clever boys you must be,

Said Rose,

Smiling upon her kinsmen,

Like a little queen upon her subjects.

Ah,

We are a fine lot.

And that is only the beginning of our larks.

We haven't got the pipes here,

Or wheat.

Sing for you,

Play for you,

A dulcey melody,

Answered Charlie,

Looking much elated at her praise.

I did not know we were Scottish,

Papa never said anything about it,

Or seemed to care about Scotland,

Except to have me sing the old ballads,

Said Rose,

Beginning to feel as if she had left America behind her.

Never did we till lately,

We had been reading Scottish novels,

And all of a sudden we remembered that our grandfather was a Scotchman.

So we hunted up the old stories,

Got a bagpipe,

Put on our baits,

And went in,

Heart and soul,

For the glory of the clan.

We have been at it some time now,

And it is great fun.

Our people like it,

And I think we are pretty canny set.

Archie said this from the other coach-step,

Where he had perched,

While the rest climbed up before and behind,

Joined the chat as they rested.

I am Fitz James,

And he is Roderick Drew,

And will give you the broadsword combat some day.

It is a great thing,

You'd better believe,

Added the prince.

Yes,

And you should hear Steve play the pipes,

He makes them squirrel like a good one,

Quite will from the box,

Eager to air the accomplishments of his race.

Max the fellow to hunt up the old stories and tell us how to dress right,

And pick out rosy bits for us to speak and sing,

Put in Georgie saying a good word for the absent warm.

And what do you and Will do?

Asked Rosie of Jamie,

Who sat beside her as if bound to keep her inside until the promised gift had been handed over.

Oh,

I am the little foot-page,

And do a rants,

And Will and Georgie are the troops,

When we march and the stags,

When we hunt,

And the traitors,

When we want to cut off any heads.

They are very obliging,

I'm sure,

Said Rose,

Whereat the utility men beamed with modest pride and resolved to enact Wallace and Montrose as soon as possible for their cousin's special benefit.

Let's have a game of tag,

Cried the prince,

Swinging himself up to a beam with a sounding slab of Steve's shoulder.

Regardless of his gloves,

Dandy tore after him,

And the rest swarmed in every direction as if bent on breaking their necks and discolating their joints as rapidly as possible.

It was a new and astonishing spectacle to Rose,

Fresh from a prim boarding school,

And she watched,

The active lads with breathless interest,

Thinking their antics far superior to those of mobs,

The dear departed monkey.

Will had just covered himself with glory by pitching off a high loft,

Head first and coming up all right,

When Phoebe appeared with a cloak,

Hood and rubbers,

Also a message from Aunt Plenty that Miss Rose was to come in directly.

All right,

We'll bring her,

Answered Archie,

Issuing some mysterious order,

Which was so promptly obeyed that before Rose could get out of the carriage,

The boys had caught hold of the pole and rattled her out of the barn,

Round the oval and up to the front door with a cheer that brought two caps to an upper window and caused Debbie to cry aloud from the back porch.

Them harem-scarem boys will certainly will be the dead of that delicate little creature.

But the delicate little creature seemed all the better for the trip,

And ran up the steps looking rosy,

Gay,

And disheveled,

To be received with lamentation by Aunt Plenty,

Who begged her to go and lie down at once.

Oh,

Please don't.

We have come to tea with our cousin,

And will be as good as gold if you let us to stay,

Auntie,

Clamoured the boys,

Who not only approved of our cousin,

But had no mind to lose their tea,

For Aunt Plenty's name but feebly expressed her bountiful nature.

Well,

Dears,

You can only be quiet and let Rose go and take her iron,

And be made tidy,

And then we will see what we can find for supper,

Said the old lady as she trotted away,

Followed by a volley of directions,

For the approaching feast.

Marmalade for me,

Auntie.

Plenty of plum-cake,

Please.

Tell Debbie to trot out the baked pears.

I'm your man for lemon-pie,

Ma'am.

You have fritters.

Rose will like them.

She would rather have tarts,

I know.

When Rose came down fifteen minutes later,

With every curl smoothed and her most beruffled apron on,

She found the boys loafing about the long hall,

And paused on the hallway,

Landing to take an observation.

For till now she had not really examined her new-found cousins.

There was a strong family resemblance among them.

Though some of the yellow heads were darker than others.

Some of the cheeks brown instead of rosy,

And the ages were right,

All the way from sixteen-year-old Archie to Jamie,

Who was ten years younger.

None of them were especially comely,

But the prince.

Yet all were hearty,

Happy-looking lads,

And Rose decided that boys were not as dreadful as she had expected to find them.

They were also characteristically employed,

That she could not help smiling as she looked.

Archie and Charlie,

Evidently great cronies,

Were pacing up and down,

Shoulder to shoulder,

Whistling bonnie-dundee.

Mac was reading in a corner,

With his book close to his near-sighted eyes.

Dundee was arranging his hair,

Before the oval glass,

In the hat-stand.

Ianville investigating the internal economy of the moon-faced clock,

And Jamie lay kicking up his heels on the mat at the foot of the stairs.

Bent on demanding his sweeties,

The instant Rose appeared.

She guessed his intention,

And forestalled his demand by dropping a handful of sugar plums down upon him.

At this cry of rapture the other lads looked up and smiled involuntarily,

For the little kinswoman standing there was a winsome sight.

Shy,

Soft eyes,

Bright hair and laughing face,

The black frog reminded them of her loss,

And filled the boyish hearts with a kindly desire to be good to our cousin,

Who had no longer any home but this.

There she is,

As fine as you please,

Cried Steve,

Kissing his hand to her.

Come on,

Missy,

Thee is ready,

Added the prince encouragingly.

I shall take her in,

And Archie offered his arm with great dignity,

An honour that made Rose turn as red as a cherry,

And longed to run upstairs again.

It was a merry supper,

And the two elder boys added much to the fun,

By tormenting the rest with dark hints of some interesting event,

Something uncommonly fine,

They declared it was,

But enveloped in the deepest mystery for the present.

Did I ever see it?

Asked Jamie.

Not to remember it,

But Mac and Steve have,

And liked it immensely,

Answered Charlie,

Thereby causing the two mentioned to neglect Debbie's delectable fritters for several minutes,

While they gudge-gilled their brains.

Who will have it first?

Asked Will,

With his mouth full of marmalade.

Not plenty,

I guess.

When will she have it?

Demanded Geordie,

Bouncing in his seat with impatience.

Sometime on Monday.

Hard alive!

What is the boy talking about?

Cried the old lady,

From behind the tall urn,

Which left little to be seen but the topmost bow of her cap.

Doesn't auntie know?

Asked the chorus of voices.

No and that is the best part of the joke,

For she is desperately fond of it.

What color is it?

Asked Rose,

Joining in the fun.

Blue and brown.

Is it good to eat?

Asked Jamie.

Some people think so,

But I shouldn't like to try it,

Answered Charlie,

Laughing so he split his tea.

Who does it belong to?

Put in Steve.

Geordie and the prince stared at one another rather blankly for a minute,

Then Archie answered with a twinkle of the eye that made Charlie explode again.

To grandfather Campbell.

This was a poser,

And they gave up the puzzle,

Though Jamie confided to Rose that he did not think he could live till Monday without knowing what this remarkable thing was.

Soon after the tea the clan departed,

Singing,

All the blue bonnets are over the border,

At the tops of their voices.

Well,

Dear,

How do you like your cousins?

Asked aunt Plenty.

Asked the last pony frisked round the corner and the din died away.

Pretty well,

Ma'am,

But I like Phoebe better,

An answer which caused aunt Plenty to hold up her hands in despair and trot away to tell sister Peace that she never should understand that child,

And it was a mercy,

Alec was coming soon,

To take the responsibility of their hands.

Fatigued by the unusual extursions of the afternoon,

Rose curled herself up in the shelf corner to rest and think about the great mystery,

Little guessing that she was to know it first of all.

Just in the middle of her meditations she fell asleep and dreamed she was at home again in her own little bed.

She seemed to wake and see her father bending over her,

To hear him say,

My little Rose,

To answer,

Yes,

Papa,

And then to feel him take her in his arms and kiss her tenderly.

So sweet,

So real was the dream that she started up with a cry of joy to find herself in the arms of a brown-bearded man who held her close and whispered in a voice so like her father's that she clung to him involuntarily,

This my little girl,

And I am uncle Alec.