Mamma's Plot — Aunt Jo's Scrap Bag by Louisa M. Alcott
"It's the meanest thing I ever heard of, and I won't bear it!" cried Kitty, sitting down on her half-packed trunk, with a most rebellious expression.
"You must, my dear: it is the rule of the school, and you must submit. I'm very sorry, for I expected great comfort and pleasure from your little letters; but if madam has to read and correct them all, of course they will be compositions, and not particularly interesting," said mamma, with a sigh, as she folded up the small garments as tenderly as if her little girl had been inside of them.
"I didn't mind much about it when I read the rules, but now that I'm really going it seems like a prison; and I shall be just wild to tell you every thing. How can I, if that old lady has got to see what I write? I know I shan't like the food, and I can't ask you to send me any goodies without her knowing it. If I'm homesick, I shall want to tell you, and of course there will be lots of funny things you'd enjoy, but for this disgusting rule. I do declare I won't go!" and Kitty cast her new boots sternly on the floor.
"Yes, you will, Puss, because papa and I want you to. This is an excellent school; old-fashioned in some things, and I like it for that, though this rule is not a wise one, I fancy. You must do the best you can, and perhaps madam won't be very particular about what you write to me, if you are a good child."
"I know she will. I saw fussiness in her face. She's sure to be strict and prim, and I shall be so miserable." Here Kitty began to cry over her woes.
It was a habit of hers to have a great many troubles, and to be very much afflicted about trifles, for she had not a real trial in the world except her own fidgety little self. As she sat on her trunk, with all her possessions scattered about her, and one great tear on the end of her nose (she couldn't squeeze out another to save her life), she was a very pathetic object; and mamma felt so tender about losing her that she could not make light of this grief, as she often did when Kitty wept over some trifle.
All of a sudden a bright idea came into her head, for mothers' wits are usually sharper than other people's where their children are concerned. Up she got, and hurrying to her desk pulled out a box of many-colored note-paper, with envelopes to match, saying, as she showed them, with a smile,—
"I've thought of a nice plan, a sort of joke between us. Come here, and I'll tell you about it."
So Kitty wiped away her one tear, and ran to hear the new plan, full of curiosity and interest; for pretty papers are always attractive, and mamma looked as if the joke was going to be a funny one.
"I will fill your little portfolio with these, and for each color we will have a different meaning, which I shall understand. Let me see. When you are well and happy, use this pink paper; when you are homesick, take the blue; if you want goodies, use the green; and if you don't feel well, take the violet. How do you like the idea, Puss?"
"It's regularly splendid! I do love to have secrets, and this will be such a nice one, all private between our two selves. Mamma, you are a perfect dear, and I'll send you a letter every week. It will be such fun to write it all prim and proper, and let madam see it, and then have it tell you all about me by the color."
And Kitty danced about the room till the little blue bow on the top of her head stood straight up as if with excitement.
So the portfolio was fitted out in great style, and Kitty felt as proud as you please; for other girls didn't have colored note-papers, much less private jokes with their mammas. The new arrangement made her quite willing to go; and all that day she kept looking at her mother with twinkling eyes, and the last thing she said, as the carriage drove away, was,—
"Don't forget what pink, blue, green, and violet means, mamma."
The first week was a hard one, for every thing was new, and the rules were rather strict. Kitty did her best for the honor of her family, but sometimes her woes did seem heavier than she could bear, especially French verbs, and getting up very early.
So when Saturday came, and the home letters were to be written, she longed to pour out her full heart to dear mamma, but did not dare to do it, for madam went about among the girls, suggesting, correcting, and overseeing their productions as if they were nothing but compositions.
"Remember, my dears, these three rules when you are writing letters. Always put in something about your heavenly Father, the progress of your studies, and your duty to parents and teachers. None of these important points have been touched upon in your epistle, Miss Catherine; therefore, as it is much blotted, and badly spelled, I desire you to rewrite it, making these additions. Here is an excellent sample of the proper style;" and madam laid a model letter before poor Kitty, who muttered to herself, as she read it, —
"I might as well write a sermon, and done with it. Papa will laugh, and mamma won't get one bit of news from it. I'll let her know how unhappy I am any way."
So Kitty took out her bluest paper (the homesick color, you know), and produced the following letter, which madam approved and sent:—
My dear Mamma,— With every sentiment which affection can suggest, I hasten to inform you that I am well, and trust you also and my honored father are enjoying that best of blessings, robust health.
I am endeavoring to prove by diligence and good conduct my gratitude for the advantages now offered me, and trust that my progress may be a source of satisfaction to my parents and teachers, as well as profitable to myself in years to come.
Madam is most kind to me, and my schoolmates are agreeable and friendly young ladies. That I may merit their affection and respect is the sincere wish of my heart, for friendship adds a charm to life, and strengthens the most amiable sentiments of the youthful mind.
As Monday is your birthday, please accept this little picture as a token of my love, with best wishes for many happy returns of the day. May our heavenly Father, in his infinite goodness, long preserve you to us, and, when this earthly pilgrimage is over, may your landing be on that happy shore where naught but bliss can meet you, and where your virtues will receive the recompense which they deserve.
I desire much to see you, but do not repine, since you deem it best to send me from you for a time. Our meeting will be the more delightful for this separation, and time soon flies when profitably employed.
Please give my love to all, especially my papa, and believe me, dear mamma,
Your ever dutiful and affectionate daughter,
Catherine Augusta Murry.
"It's perfectly awful," said Kitty to herelf, as she read it over; and so it was, but madam was an old fashioned lady, and had been brought up to honor her parents in the old-fashioned way. Letters like that were written in her youth, and she saw no occasion to change the style for what she called the modern slipshod mixture of gossip and slang.
The good lady never thought there might be a middle course, and that it was a better way to teach composition to let the children write their own natural little letters, with hints as to spelling, grammar, and other necessary matters, than to make them copy the Grandisonian style of her own youth.
Poor Kitty rebelled sadly, but submitted, and found her only comfort in the thought that mamma would find something in the letter besides what this disrespectful little person called "madam's old rubbish."
Mamma did find it, and sent back such a tender reply that Kitty's heart reproached her for causing so much anxiety, when things were not very bad after one got used to them.
So the next letter was a cheerful pink one, and though the contents were not a bit more interesting than the first one it gave great satisfaction.
A green one went next, for as Kitty's spirits improved she felt the need of a few home goodies to sweeten her studies and enliven her play hours. As only sensible dainties came, and madam was propitiated by a particularly delicate cake, presented with all due respect, she made no objection to an occasional box from home.
Kitty therefore found herself a great favorite, and all the girls were very fond of her, especially when the "sweeties" arrived.
"I think your mother is perfectly splendid to send such nice things without your saying a word. I have to tease mine when I go home on a visit, and she always forgets, and I can't remind her because the griffin sees my letters, and cuts out all requests for food, 'as if you were not properly supplied with the best in the market.'"
Fanny said that,—the wag and romp of the school,—and as she imitated the "griffin," as she had naughtily named madam, there was a general giggle, in which Kitty was glad to join, for she did get goodies without "saying a word," and the idea tickled her immensely.
But she told her secret to no one, and, finding that the pink notes made mamma very happy, she tried not to think of her "woes" when she sat down to write. This little bit of self-denial was its own reward; for, as the woes only existed in her own imagination, when she resolutely stopped thinking ef them they vanished.
Plenty of work and play, young society, and the affectionate desire to please her mother did for Kitty just what mamma had hoped. At home she was too much petted and pitied, as the youngest is apt to be; and so she had the "fidgets," which are to little people what "nerves" are to the elders. Now she had no time to dawdle and bemoan herself: if she did, other girls went to the head of the class, led the games, and got the best marks.
So Kitty bestirred herself, and in three months was quite another child. Madam praised her, the girls loved her, mamma was both pleased and proud, and papa quite decided that Puss should have a little gold watch on her next birthday.
The pink paper was soon used up, since there was no call for any of the other colors, except an occasional green sheet; and a new stock was gladly sent by mamma, who was quite satisfied with the success of her little plot.
But mamma had been rather troubled about one thing, and that was the breaking of the rule. It had seemed a foolish one to her, ⟨and she⟩ had taught Kitty how to escape it. That was a bad example, and so she wrote to madam and "'fessed," like an honest mamma as she was.
She did it so prettily and penitently that old madam was not angry; indeed, when the matter was sensibly and respectfully put before her, she saw the justice of it, forgave the little plot, and amazed her pupils by gradually omitting to watch over them as they wrote.
When saucy Fanny spoke of it, she answered that she trusted them to write only what was true and modest, and, finding that the times had changed a little since her young days, she meant to relax some of her rules.
That pleased the girls, and they proved their gratitude by honorably forbearing to put into their letters any thing disrespectful toward the dear old griffin. Some of the most affectionate freely took their letters to her for correction; and when she had read a few, and laughed over them till her spectacles were dim, she quite depended on seeing them, and found what used to be a dull task now changed to a very pleasant amusement.
As a contrast to the model letter already inserted (and which I beg leave to state was really written from school by a little girl of twelve), I will only add one which Kitty wrote after the old rule was set aside:—
My dear little Mamma,—Now that I can tell you every thing, I will answer the questions you asked in your last, and please, please don't think I am a vain thing because I seem to praise myself. It is truly what people say and do, and I never should have told if you had not asked me.
You want to know if I am liked. Why, mamma, I'm a leading girl. Others fight to walk with me, and bribe me with their nice things to sit by them. I'm at the head most of the time, and try not to be grand about it; so I help the others, and am as kind and generous as I know how to be.
Madam is just as dear and clever as she can be, and I'm actually fond of her. Don't tell, but I fancy I'm her favorite, for she lets me do ever so many things that she once forbid, and isn't half so strict as she was.
I'm truly glad I came, for I do get on, and haven't had a woe this ever so long. Isn't that nice? I'm homesick sometimes, and look at my blue paper, but I won't use it; so I go and have a good run, or chatter French with madam, and get cheered up before I write.
I miss you most at night, mamma dear, for then I have no one to tell my goods and bads to, and so get right. But not having you, I remember what you told me, that I always have God, and to him I open my heart as I never did before Prayers mean something to me now, and I say them so earnestly that sometimes I cry, and that makes me feel so fresh and strong and ready to go on again.
I do try to be good, and don't ask for any reward but to see you look proud and pleased when I come home. I'd give any thing if I could hug you now and then, because you don't mind if I tumble your collar: madam does, and that spoils the fun of it. Kissing is a kind of inspiration, you know; and one doesn't stop to think of clothes when one is so full of love, it must spill over in kisses.
That sounds sentimental, but I'm not going to take it out, because you'll understand what I mean, and won't laugh. That's the comfort of private letters, isn't it?
Now, good-by, my dearest mother. Lots of love to papa, and do both write soon to your own littlePuss.
Just as Kitty was folding it up, madam came by, and quite mechanically held out her hand for it, as she used to do.
Kitty caught it back, and then blushed and looked distressed; for madam said gravely, as she remembered the new rule,—
"I beg your pardon, I forgot. Seal it up, my dear; I won't ask to read your secrets any more."
Kitty saw that she was hurt, and with an impulsive gesture thrust the letter into madam's hand, saying bravely, though she quaked a little at some of the things she had written,—
"Please read it. There are no secrets in it, only foolish things that mamma likes to know because they are about me. You'll think I'm a vain goose, but I'd rather you did that than think I told tales, or did any thing sly."
Thus urged, madam read the letter; and Kitty stood by, with cheeks much pinker than the paper, expecting a lecture when the last word came. But, to her great amazement, the old lady kissed her as she gave it back, and said, in a voice as gentle as if speaking to one of her own little daughters, lost long ago,—
"It is a good letter, my dear, and a true one. Give my regards to your mamma, and tell her that your suspicion about my favorite is quite correct."