PREVIOUSLY: Skeletor and Jo woke up in a MOOD on New Years Day, resigned to the morose jobs they needed to attend to.
So Skeletor went down, wearing an injured looks, and wasn’t at all agreeable at breakfast-time. Every one seemed rather out of sorts, and inclined to croak.
Beth had a headache, and lay on the sofa trying to comfort herself with the cat and three kittens; Amy was fretting because her lessons were not learned, and she couldn’t find her rubbers; Jo would whistle, and make a great racket getting ready; and Hannah had the grumps, for being up late didn’t suit her.
“There never was such a cross family!” cried Jo, losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand, broken both boot-lacings, and sat down upon her hat.
“You’re the crossest person in it!” returned Amy, washing out the sum, that was all wrong, with the tears that had fallen on her slate.1
“Beth, if you don’t keep these horrid cats down cellar I’ll have them drowned,”2 exclaimed Skeletor, angrily, as she tried to get rid of the kitten, who had swarmed up her back, and stuck like a burr just out of reach.
Jo laughed, Skeletor scolded, Beth implored, and Amy wailed, because she couldn’t remember how much nine times twelve was.
“…the girls called them ‘muffs’…”
At an empty spot at the writing desk, one would have thought Marmee would be busily finishing a letter - the girls, in such a furor, couldn’t spare a thought to the silence from that part of the room. They instead dreamt their Mother there, chastising them for driving her distracted from their worry.
There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who bounced in, laid two hot turnovers on the table, and bounced out again. These turn-overs were an institution; and the girls called them “muffs,” for they had no others, and found the hot pies very comforting to their hands on cold mornings. Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how busy or grumpy she might be, for the walk was long and bleak; the poor things got no other lunch, and were seldom home before three. 3
“Cuddle your cats, and get over your headache, Bethy. Goodbye, Hannah; we are a set of rascals this morning, but we’ll come home regular angels,” and Jo tramped away, feeling that the pilgrims were not setting out as they ought to do.
1 I once had a tutor in the first grade say I had “math anxiety” because I would cry whenever she asked me to multiply something.
2 I’ll try to indicate (where applicable) re: Meg what parts of the narrative are my invention and which parts are from the text. This is the text.
3 You bakers out there know “turnover” is the catchall for any sort of folded-over pie. Fruit, meat, anything could be in there! In the immediate, imagine for breakfast you ate a Taco Bell Caramel Apple Empanada and then you didn’t eat again until 3pm. “Poor things” indeed!