by Louisa May Alcott
CHAPTER I NAT
"Please, sir, is this Plumfield?" asked a ragged boy of the man who
opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.
"Yes. Who sent you?"
"Mr. Laurence. I have got a letter for the lady."
"All right; go up to the house, and give it to her; she'll see to you,
little chap."
The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much
cheered by the words. Through the soft spring rain that fell on
sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house
before him a hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned
porch, wide steps, and lights shining in many windows. Neither
curtains nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer; and, pausing a
moment before he rang, Nat saw many little shadows dancing on
the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young voices, and felt that it
was hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within
could be for a homeless "little chap" like him.
"I hope the lady will see to me," he thought, and gave a timid rap
with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin's head.
A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she took
the letter which he silently offered. She seemed used to receiving
strange boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and said, with a
nod:
"Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis."
Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about
him curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in
the dusky recess by the door.
The house seemed swarming with boys, who were beguiling the
rainy twilight with all sorts of amusements. There were boys
everywhere, "up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady's chamber,"
apparently, for various open doors showed pleasant groups of big
boys, little boys, and middle-sized boys in all stages of evening
relaxation, not to say effervescence. Two large rooms on the right
were evidently schoolrooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and
books were scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and
several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new
cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the
air. A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite
undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or three others were
jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath
and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing
the whole household on a blackboard.
In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with
great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and
perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A
flavor of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples,
very tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.
The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for
a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing
was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs
were occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll,
two puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys
sliding down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes
and danger to their limbs.
So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting race, that he ventured
farther and farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy
came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself, but fell off
the banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but
one rendered nearly as hard as a cannon-ball by eleven years of
constant bumping, Nat forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen
rider, expecting to find him half-dead. The boy, however, only
winked rapidly for a second, then lay calmly looking up at the new
face with a surprised, "Hullo!"
"Hullo!" returned Nat, not knowing what else to say, and thinking