CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dark Days

Beth did have the fever, and was much sicker than anyone but Hannah and the doctor suspected. The girls knew nothing about illness, and Mr Laurence was not allowed to see her, so Hannah was in charge. Meg stayed home, as she feared she might give the Kings' children the illness, feeling guilty for writing letters to her mother, with no mention of her sister's terrible illness. She did not think it right not to tell her mother, but Hannah refused to allow the girls to worry their mother, as Beth was very patient. But there came a time when during the fever she looked more sick than usual. Then, Jo grew frightened, and Meg begged to be allowed to write the truth.

How dark the days seemed now, how sad and lonely the house, and how anxious were the sisters as they worked and waited. During this time, Margaret realized how rich she had been in things more precious than riches—in love, protection, peace, and health. Then, it was Jo, living in the darkened room with her younger sister, who learned to see the beauty and sweetness of Beth's nature, and promised to follow her unselfish ways. And Amy, alone at Aunt March's, longed eagerly to be at home, that she might work for Beth, feeling now that no service would be too difficult, and remembering how many duties she had forgotten, only to have Beth unselfishly finish them. In the meantime, Mr Laurence locked the grand piano, because he could not bear to be reminded of the young neighbor who used to make the evenings so pleasant for him. Everyone missed Beth. The milkman, baker, and Storekeeper all asked about her. Poor Mrs Hummel came to apologize for her thoughtlessness. The neighbors all sent comforts and good wishes, and even those who knew her best were surprised to find how many friends shy little Beth had made.

On the first of December, the doctor came, looked at Beth with a worried expression, and said to Hannah, "If Mrs March can leave her husband, she'd better come soon."

Soon after, Laurie came in with a letter from their mother, explaining that their father was improving a great deal. Jo read it thankfully, but looked full of misery and Laurie asked quickly, "What is it? Is Beth worse?"

"I've sent for Mother. The doctor told us to," she said.

"Oh, Jo, it's not so bad as that?" cried Laurie.

"Yes, it is. She doesn't know us, and can't even speak any longer."

"I'm here. Hold on to me, Jo, dear!" whispered Laurie as he put his arms around her.

"I'm so glad Father is better; now she won't feel so bad about leaving him. Oh, my dear Beth, I don't know what I would do without my dear little Beth!"

"I don't think she will die. And besides, I know your mother will be coming soon to care for her as only a mother can. Let me tell you something that will help. I sent your mother a telegram yesterday and Brooke answered she'd come immediately, and she'll be here tonight, and everything will be all right. Aren't you glad I did it?"

"Oh, Laurie! Oh, Mother! I am so glad!" she exclaimed.

"You see, I got worried, and so did Grandpa. We thought Hannah was not being wise, and thought your mother should know. She'd never forgive us if Beth—well, if anything happened. So, your mother will come by two in the morning. I shall go to the train station for her, and you've only got to keep Beth quiet till your mother arrives."

The girls never forgot that night, as they waited anxiously for their mother to arrive. They waited, and shortly after two in the morning, the doctor arrived to see Beth, and joyously explained that Beth was improving. Meg and Jo went quietly into the hall, sitting on the stairs, and holding each other close.

Soon enough, they heard the carriage arrive, and were overjoyed to see their mother walk into the house.

(end of section)