PREVIOUSLY: We talked about Beth. That’s enough about Beth!
If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she would have answered at once, “My nose.” When she was a baby, Jo had accidentally dropped her into the coal-hod1 and Amy insisted that the fall had ruined her nose forever. It was not big, nor red, like poor “Petrea’s;” 2 it was only rather flat, and all the pinching in the world could not give it an aristocratic point.
No one minded it but herself, and it was doing its best to grow, but Amy felt deeply the want of a Grecian nose, and drew whole sheets of handsome ones to console herself.
“Little Raphael,” as her sisters called her, had a decided talent for drawing, and was never so happy as when copying flowers, designing fairies, or illustrating stories with queer specimens of art. Her teachers complained that instead of doing her sums, she covered her slate with animals; the blank pages of her atlas were used to copy maps on, and caricatures of the most ludicrous description came fluttering out of all of her books at unlucky moments. She got her lessons as well as she could, and managed to escape reprimands by being a model of deportment.
When papa was rich we did so-and-so…
She was a great favorite with her mates, being good-tempered, and possessing the happy art of pleasing without effort. Her little airs and graces were much admired, so were her accomplishments; for beside her drawing, she could play twelve tunes, crochet, and read French without mispronouncing more than two-thirds of the words. 3
She had a plaintive way of saying, “When papa was rich we did so-and-so,” which was very touching; and her long words were considered “perfectly elegant” by the girls.
Amy was in a fair way to be spoilt; for every one petted her, and her small vanities and selfishnesses were growing nicely. One thing, however, rather quenched the vanities; she had to wear her cousin’s clothes. Now Florence’s mamma hadn’t a particle of taste, and Amy suffered deeply at having to wear a red instead of a blue bonnet, unbecoming gowns, and fussy aprons that did not fit. Everything was good, well made, and little worn; but Amy’s artistic eyes were much afflicted, especially this winter, when her school dress was a dull purple, with yellow dots, and no trimming.
“My only comfort,” she said to Skeletor, with tears in her eyes, “is that mother doesn’t take tucks in my dresses whenever I’m naughty, as Maria Parrs’ mother does. My dear, it’s really dreadful; for sometimes she is so bad, her frock is up to her knees, and she can’t come to school. 4 When I think of this degerradation, I feel that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown, with yellow sky-rockets on it.”
1 This is she:
2 I learned what this means, but only because of a rare moment of Google AI summary being accurate. Out of spite, I will not include it here.
3
4 First of all, RAISING a hem as punishment is so funny to me. Second, ma’am, you’re allowed to just ground someone without having to do a craft first.