PREVIOUSLY: It was Christmas, and now it is shortly after Christmas.
“Jo! Jo! Where are you?” cried Meg, at the foot of the garret stairs.
“Here,” answered a husky voice from above; and running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the “Heir of Redcliffe,”1 wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window.
This was Jo’s favorite refuge; and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets 2 and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by, and didn’t mind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks, and waited to hear the news.
“Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for to-morrow night!” cried Meg, waving the precious paper, and then proceeding to read it, with girlish delight.
If only I had a silk!
“‘Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New-Year’s-Eve.’ Marmee is willing we should go; though that was some hours ago and I have not heard otherwise since. Now what shall we wear?”
“What’s the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins, because we haven’t got anything else,” answered Jo, with her mouth full.
“If only I had a silk!” sighed Meg; “mother says I may when I’m eighteen, perhaps; but two years is an everlasting time to wait.”
“I’m sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us. Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn and the tear in mine; whatever shall I do? The burn shows horridly, and I can’t take any out. 3
1 Per the text: “The Heir of Redclyffe (1853) was the first popular success by the Engligh domestic novelist Charlotte Yonge (1823-1901). The novel’s hero, the dashing young nobleman Sir Guy Morville, dies on his honeymoon from fever caught while selflessly nursing his worst enemy.” Ah! You hate to see it.
2 It’s a…challenging apple.
3 Poplin in itself just a type of fabric mix used at the time, crafted in a way that looked silk-ish but not quite silk. I believe they are referring to the whole garment as a poplin here. In any case, imagine this, but with a big Looney-Tunes-ass charred hole in the back.
