The more Jo got to know Laurie the more she liked him. She found that her preconceptions about his privileged upbringing and the behavior she expected from someone so wealthy were quickly shattered. For Jo had never met anyone as down-to-earth, sincere, and witty as Laurie. However, what happened later on that evening really clinched their friendship. The two young people were exchanging jokes and laughing rather loudly when Meg, who had been dancing almost the entire evening, limped over to where they sat.
"Jo," Meg whispered, her face pinched with pain.
"Meg! What's the matter?" Jo exclaimed, alarmed.
"I've hurt my ankle," answered Meg, tenderly massaging the swollen area.
"Oh, dear, what are we going to do?" Jo cracked her knuckles.
"Jo! Don't do that! That's so ill-mannered!" Meg, in her agony, still worried about how others might perceive them.
"Can I help in any way?" Laurie gallantly interrupted.
"No, silly boy," Jo brushed him aside. "It took us twenty minutes to walk here," she calculated to Meg. "If I carry you, we may be able to get home in less than an hour."
"No!" Meg and Laurie cried out simultaneously.
"We can't afford to hire a carriage, Meg," said Jo decisively, "so unless you want to ask Sallie whether or not they can accommodate you for the night, then I don't see any other way."
Indeed, Jo spoke truthfully, since the Marches no longer had a carriage and the girls certainly did not have enough money to hire one to take them back.
"Well, I was planning to return home soon," said Laurie, clearing his throat then continuing, "and I have a carriage. If you would do me the honor of escorting you back home, then I shall be the envy of all the lads here tonight."
Jo appreciated Laurie's tact and kindness. The two sisters heartily accepted Laurie's offer and they rode home in luxury and comfort.
The following day was their last day of freedom, as Jo put it. The winter holidays were coming to a close and the girls would be returning to their normal activities. For Meg and Jo, that meant going back to work.
Meg worked as a governess for the King family and their children. Although she took great pleasure in making her own living, Meg sometimes found it a challenge to be surrounded by wealth and luxuries that she knew she would never possess. "It frustrates me how wealthy some families are, while others are so deprived," she often complained upon returning from her place of employment.
As for Jo, she worked as a companion to their rich old Aunt March. Every morning when Jo arrived at the mansion, Aunt March presented her with a list of things to do that day. Often the list included petty things like brushing Polly, the pet parrot, and feeding her crackers, or changing the order of the cushions on the sofa. Of course, one thing Aunt March always wrote down was for Jo to read to her from a book of the old lady's choice. Needless to say, Jo's favorite part of the day was when she could escape into the pages of an imaginary world.
"At least you girls get reimbursed for your diligent efforts," whined Amy.
Though it was a holiday period, Mother made sure the girls had plenty to do around the house so they did not become lazy. Meg was shortening the hem of some of her old dresses so Amy could wear them to school. Jo was sitting and darning some old socks. What little silverware the Marches had, Amy was polishing. And Beth, who at the age of thirteen still loved her dolls, was mending some button eyes on one of her "children."
"What do you mean, Amy?" Meg asked lightly as she adjusted the cushion under her injured ankle.
"I am forced to learn things I have no interest in," Amy began, her cheeks flushed pink. "Girls tease me all the time about my dresses or ribbons. And I don't get paid for any of the abuse I suffer daily like you do."
Jo rolled her eyes and said, "No one gets paid to go to school. And besides," she added, using her needle to point to Meg and herself, "we had to go to school just the same as you."
Meg put her sewing down. "If only our lives were different, girls."
"What would you change, Meg?" asked Beth. She had finished "surgery" on one doll and was moving on to replace a torn-off limb on another worn-out one.
"Well, I wouldn't work for the Kings," Meg said after a while. "I would find an agreeable job, perhaps as a seamstress so that I might design beautiful gowns for ladies to wear."
"But you wouldn't be able to wear them yourself," said Jo candidly.
Meg gave her a hurt look and continued, "There might be some material left for me to make my own dress."
"Then you would look like Beth's doll there," Jo laughed, pointing to one doll who wore an ugly dress made out of different scraps of fabric sewn together.
"That's mean, Jo. I just want a better life for myself and my family," was Meg's tearful reply.
"Sorry, Meg," apologized Jo. "As for me, I'd be happy if Aunt March took longer naps."
The sisters shared a hearty giggle over this as they knew how cranky and bossy their old relative was. Jo often blamed Aunt March's bad moods on her lack of sleep.
"What would you do while she's sleeping?" asked Beth.
"Go to her library, of course, and read every single book," was Jo's matter-of-fact reply.
"Well," Beth said in her soft and mild manner, "if only I wasn't so shy I would love to earn some money and buy a piano."
Her sisters gave her an encouraging nod for they knew how Beth's shyness hindered her from the everyday activities others took for granted, like going to school.
"If only I didn't have to go to school," whined Amy. "I wouldn't have to hear those degrading remarks about my attire." Though she moaned about school all the time, Amy never missed an opportunity to use new words she had learned there or to tell her sisters something interesting she had just been taught.
"Your dresses are lovely," chirped Meg, since they used to belong to her at one time.
"But they're so outdated," retorted Amy, adding, "although some girls do say rather pleasant things about my hair." She fluffed and patted her curls.
Her sisters silently chuckled at Amy's open vanity about her beauty trademark.
"And if only I had a straight elegant nose," Amy complained, pinching the ridge of her nose and tugging at it as if that would restructure it.
"As much as we would all like our 'if only' stories to come true," broke in Meg, "the reality is that tomorrow life will return to just as it was a few weeks ago."
"And there is not much we can do about it," concluded Jo.
The sisters harmoniously let out a wistful collective sigh and resumed their work.