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                   SILVER PITCHERS: AND INDEPENDENCE,

                        A Centennial Love Story.

                          By LOUISA M. ALCOTT,

AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL," "LITTLE MEN," "EIGHT
COUSINS," "WORK," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES," ETC.


    BOSTON:
    ROBERTS BROTHERS.

    1888.

    _Copyright_,
    BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
    1876.

    UNIVERSITY PRESS: JOHN WILSON & SON,
    CAMBRIDGE.




CONTENTS


SILVER PITCHERS

ANNA'S WHIM

TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS

THE ROMANCE OF A SUMMER DAY

MY ROCOCO WATCH

BY THE RIVER

LETTY'S TRAMP

SCARLET STOCKINGS

INDEPENDENCE: A CENTENNIAL LOVE STORY




SILVER PITCHERS.




CHAPTER I.

_HOW IT BEGAN._


"We can do nothing about it except show our displeasure in some proper
manner," said Portia, in her most dignified tone.

"_I_ should like to cut them all dead for a year to come; and I'm not
sure that I won't!" cried Pauline, fiercely.

"We _ought_ to make it impossible for such a thing to happen again, and
I think we _might_," added Priscilla, so decidedly that the others
looked at her in surprise.

The three friends sat by the fire "talking things over," as girls love
to do. Pretty creatures, all of them, as they nestled together on the
lounge in dressing-gowns and slippers, with unbound hair, eyes still
bright with excitement, and tongues that still wagged briskly.

Usually the chat was of dresses, compliments, and all the little
adventures that befall gay girls at a merry-making. But to-night
something of uncommon interest absorbed the three, and kept them talking
earnestly long after they should have been asleep.

Handsome Portia looked out from her blonde locks with a disgusted
expression, as she sipped the chocolate thoughtful mamma had left inside
the fender. Rosy-faced Pauline sat staring indignantly at the fire;
while in gentle Priscilla's soft eyes the shadow of a real sorrow seemed
to mingle with the light of a strong determination.

Yes, something had happened at this Thanksgiving festival which much
offended the three friends, and demanded grave consideration on their
part; for the "Sweet P's," as Portia, Pris, and Polly were called, were
the belles of the town. One ruled by right of beauty and position, one
by the power of a character so sweet and strong that its influence was
widely felt, and one by the wit and winsomeness of a high yet generous
spirit.

It had been an unusually pleasant evening, for after the quilting bee in
the afternoon good Squire Allen had given a bountiful supper, and all
the young folks of the town had joined in the old-fashioned games, which
made the roof ring with hearty merriment.

All would have gone well if some one had not privately introduced
something stronger than the cider provided by the Squire,--a mysterious
and potent something, which caused several of the young men to betray
that they were decidedly the worse for their libations.

That was serious enough; but the crowning iniquity was the putting of
brandy into the coffee, which it was considered decorous for the young
girls to prefer instead of cider.

Who the reprobates were remained a dead secret, for the young men
laughed off the dreadful deed as a joke, and the Squire apologized in
the handsomest manner.

But the girls felt much aggrieved and would not be appeased, though the
elders indulgently said, "Young men will be young men," even while they
shook their heads over the pranks played and the nonsense spoken under
the influence of the wine that had been so slyly drank.

Now what should be done about it? The "Sweet P's" knew that their mates
would look to them for guidance at this crisis, for they were the
leaders in all things. So they must decide on some line of conduct for
all to adopt, as the best way of showing their disapproval of such
practical jokes.

When Pris spoke, the others looked at her with surprise; for there was a
new expression in her face, and both asked wonderingly, "How?"

"There are several ways, and we must decide which is the best. One is to
refuse invitations to the sociable next week."

"But I've just got a lovely new dress expressly for it!" cried Portia,
tragically.

"Then we might decline providing any supper," began Pris.

"That wouldn't prevent the boys from providing it, and I never could get
through the night without a morsel of something!" exclaimed Polly, who
loved to see devoted beings bending before her, with offerings of ice,
or struggling manfully to steer a glass of lemonade through a tumultuous
sea of silk and broadcloth, feeling well repaid by a word or smile from
her when they landed safely.

"True, and it _would_ be rather rude and resentful; for I am sure they
will be models of deportment next time," and gentle Pris showed signs of
relenting, though that foolish joke bad cost her more than either of the
others.

For a moment all sat gazing thoughtfully at the fire, trying to devise
some awful retribution for the sinners, no part of which should fall
upon themselves. Suddenly Polly clapped her hands, crying with a
triumphant air,--

"I've got it, girls! I've got it!"

"What? How? Tell us quick!"

"We _will_ refuse to go to the first sociable, and that will make a
tremendous impression, for half the nice girls will follow our lead, and
the boys will be in despair. Every one will ask why we are not there;
and what can those poor wretches say but the truth? Won't that be a
bitter pill for my lords and gentlemen?"

"It will certainly be one to us," said Portia, thinking of the "heavenly
blue dress" with a pang.

"Wait a bit; our turn will come at the next sociable. To this we can go
with escorts of our own choosing, or none at all, for they are free and
easy affairs, you know. So we need be under no obligation to any of
those sinners, and can trample upon them as much as we please."

"But how about the games, the walks home, and all the pleasant little
services the young men of our set like to offer and we to receive?"
asked Portia, who had grown up with these "boys," as Polly called them,
and found it hard to turn her back on the playmates who had now become
friends or lovers.

"Bless me! I forgot that the feud might last more than one evening. Give
me an idea, Pris," and Polly's triumph ended suddenly.

"I will," answered Pris, soberly; "for at this informal sociable we can
institute a new order of things. It will make a talk, but I think we
have a right to do it, and I'm sure it will have a good effect, if we
only hold out, and don't mind being laughed at. Let us refuse to
associate with the young men whom we know to be what is called 'gay,'
and accept as friends those of whose good habits we are sure. If they
complain, as of course they will, we can say their own misconduct made
it necessary, and there we have them."

"But, Pris, who ever heard of such an idea? People will say all sorts of
things about us!" said Portia, rather startled at the proposition.

"Let them! I say it's a grand plan, and I'll stand by you, Pris, through
thick and thin!" cried Polly, who enjoyed the revolutionary spirit of
the thing.

"We can but try it, and give the young men a lesson; for, girls, matters
are coming to a pass, when it is our _duty_ to do something. I cannot
think it is right for us to sit silent and see these fine fellows
getting into bad habits because no one dares or cares to speak out,
though we gossip and complain in private."

"Do you want us to begin a crusade?" asked Portia, uneasily.

"Yes, in the only way we girls can do it. We can't preach and pray in
streets and bar-rooms, but we may at home, and in our own little world
show that we want to use our influence for good. I know that you two can
do any thing you choose with the young people in this town, and it is
just that set who most need the sort of help you can give, if you will."

"You have more influence than both of us put together; so don't be
modest, Pris, but tell us what to do, and I'll do it, even if I'm hooted
at," cried warm-hearted Polly, won at once.

"You must do as you think right; but _I_ have made up my mind to protest
against wine-drinking in every way I can. I know it will cost me much,
for I have nothing to depend upon but the good opinion of my friends;
nevertheless, I shall do what seems my duty, and I may be able to save
some other girl from the heart-aches I have known."

"You won't lose our good opinion, you dear little saint! Just tell us
how to begin and we will follow our leader," cried both Portia and
Polly, fired with emulation by their friend's quiet resolution.

Pris looked from one to the other, and, seeing real love and confidence
in their faces, was moved to deepen the impression she had made, by
telling them the sad secret of her life. Pressing her hands tightly
together, and drooping her head, she answered in words that were the
more pathetic for their brevity,--

"Dear girls, don't think me rash or sentimental, for I _know_ what I am
trying to do, and you will understand my earnestness better when I tell
you that a terrible experience taught me to dread this appetite more
than death. It killed my father, broke mother's heart, and left me all
alone."

As she paused, poor Pris hid her face and shrank away, as if by this
confession she had forfeited her place in the respect of her mates. But
the girlish hearts only clung the closer to her, and proved the
sincerity of their affection by sympathetic tears and tender words, as
Portia and Polly held her fast, making a prettier group than the marble
nymphs on the mantelpiece; for the Christian graces quite outdid the
heathen ones.

Polly spoke first, and spoke cheerfully, feeling, with the instinct of a
fine nature, that Priscilla's grief was too sacred to be talked about,
and that they could best show their appreciation of her confidence by
proving themselves ready to save others from a sorrow like hers.

"Let us be a little society of three, and do what we can. I shall begin
at home, and watch over brother Ned; for lately he has been growing away
from me somehow, and I'm afraid he is beginning to be 'gay.' I shall get
teased unmercifully; but I won't mind if I keep him safe."

"I have no one at home to watch over but papa, and he is in no danger,
of course; so I shall show Charley Lord that I am not pleased with him,"
said Portia, little dreaming where her work was to be done.

"And you will set about reforming that delightful scapegrace, Phil
Butler?" added Polly, peeping archly into the still drooping face of
Pris.

"I have lost my right to do it, for I told him to-night that love and
respect must go together in my heart," and Pris wiped her wet eyes with
a hand that no longer wore a ring.

Portia and Polly looked at one another in dismay, for by this act Pris
proved how thoroughly in earnest she was.

Neither had any words of comfort for so great a trouble, and sat
silently caressing her, till Pris looked up, with her own serene smile
again, and said, as if to change the current of their thoughts,--

"We must have a badge for the members of our new society, so let us each
wear one of these tiny silver pitchers. I've lost the mate to mine, but
Portia has a pair just like them. You can divide, then we are all
provided for."

Portia ran to her jewel-case, caught up a pair of delicate filigree
ear-rings, hastily divided a narrow velvet ribbon into three parts,
attached to each a silver pitcher, and, as the friends smilingly put on
these badges, they pledged their loyalty to the new league by a silent
good-night kiss.




CHAPTER II.

_A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE._


Great was the astonishment of their "set" when it was known that the
"Sweet P's" had refused all invitations to the opening sociable.

The young men were in despair, the gossips talked themselves hoarse
discussing the affair, and the girls exulted; for, as Polly predicted,
the effect of their first step was "tremendous."

When the evening came, however, by one accord they met in Portia's room,
to support each other through that trying period. They affected to be
quite firm and cheerful; but one after the other broke down, and sadly
confessed that the sacrifice to principle was harder than they expected.
What added to their anguish was the fact that the Judge's house stood
just opposite the town-hall, and every attempt to keep away from certain
windows proved a dead failure.

"It is _so_ trying to see those girls go in with their dresses bundled
up, and not even know what they wear," mourned Portia, watching shrouded
figures trip up the steps that led to the paradise from which she had
exiled herself.

"They must be having a capital time, for every one seems to have gone. I
wonder who Phil took," sighed Pris, when at length the carriages ceased
to roll.

"Girls! I wish to be true to my vow, but if you don't hold me I shall
certainly rush over there and join in the fun, for that music is too
much for me," cried Polly, desperately, as the singing began.

It was an endless evening to the three pretty pioneers, though they went
early to bed, and heroically tried to sleep with that distracting music
in their ears. Slumber came at last, but as the clocks were striking
twelve a little ghost emerged from Portia's room, and gliding to the
hall window vanished among the heavy damask curtains.

Presently another little ghost appeared from the same quarter, and
stealing softly to the same window was about to vanish in the same
capacious draperies, when a stifled cry was heard, and Portia, the
second sprite, exclaimed in an astonished whisper,--

"Why, Pris, are you here, too? I saw Polly creep away from me, and came
to take her back. How dare you go wandering about and startling me out
of my wits in this way?"

"I was only looking to see if it was all over," quavered Pris, meekly,
emerging from the right-hand curtain.

"So was I!" laughed Polly, bouncing out from the left-hand one.

There was a sound of soft merriment in that shadowy hall for a moment,
and then the spirits took a look at the world outside, for the moon was
shining brightly. Yes, the fun was evidently over, for the lamps were
being extinguished, and several young men stood on the steps exchanging
last words. One wore a cloak theatrically thrown over the shoulder, and
Polly knew him at once.

"That's Ned! I _must_ hear what they are saying. Keep quiet and I'll
listen," she whispered, rolling herself in the dark folds of the curtain
and opening the window a crack, so that a frosty breeze could blow
freely into her left ear.

"You'll get your death," murmured Portia, shivering in her quilted
wrapper.

"O, never mind!" cried Pris, who recognized the tallest man in the
group, and was wild to catch a word from "poor Phil."

"They think they've done a fine thing; but, bless their little hearts,
we'll show that we can do without them by not asking them to the next
sociable, or taking notice of them if they go. That will bring them
round without fail," said one masculine voice, with a jolly laugh.

"Many thanks for letting us know your plots, Mr. Lord. Now we can
arrange a nice little surprise for _you_," and Portia made a scornful
courtesy in the dark.

"Faith! I don't blame the girls much, for that was a confoundedly
ungentlemanly trick of yours, and I'll thank you not to lay any of the
blame of it on me; I've got as much as I can carry without that," said
the tall figure, stalking away alone.

"I'm _so_ glad to know that Phil had nothing to do with it!" breathed
Pris, gratefully.

"Come on, Charley! I must get home as soon as possible, or Polly will be
down on me, for she has taken a new tack lately, and holds forth on the
error of my ways like a granny."

"Won't I give Ned an extra lecture for that speech, the rascal!" and
Polly shook a small fist at him as her brother passed under the window,
blissfully unconscious of the avenging angels up aloft.

"'Tis well; let us away and take sweet counsel how we may annihilate
them," added Polly, melodramatically, as the three ghosts vanished from
the glimpses of the moon.

Every one turned out to the sociables, for they were town affairs, and
early hours, simple suppers, and games of all sorts, made it possible
for old and young to enjoy them together.

On the night of the second one there was a goodly gathering, for the
public rebuke administered to the young men had made a stir, and
everybody was curious to see what the consequences would be when the
parties met.

There was a sensation, therefore, when a whisper went round that the
"Sweet P's" had come, and a general smile of wonder and amusement
appeared when the girls entered, Portia on the arm of her father, Polly
gallantly escorted by her twelve-year-old brother Will, and Pris beside
Belinda Chamberlain, whose five feet seven made her a capital cavalier.

"Outwitted!" laughed Charley Lord, taking the joke at once as he saw
Portia's gray-headed squire.

"I _knew_ Polly was plotting mischief, she has been so quiet lately,"
muttered Ned, eying his little brother with lofty scorn.

Phil said nothing, but he gave a sigh of relief on seeing that Pris had
chosen an escort of whom it was impossible to be jealous.

The Judge seldom honored these gatherings, but Portia ruled papa, and
when she explained the peculiar state of things, he had heroically left
his easy chair to cast himself into the breach.

Master Will was in high feather at his sudden promotion, and bore
himself gallantly, though almost as much absorbed by his wristbands as
Mr. Toots; for Polly had got him up regardless of expense, with a gay
tie, new gloves, and, O, crowning splendor! a red carnation in his
button-hole.

Buxom Belinda was delighted with the chance to play cavalier, and so get
her fair share of all the fun going, for usually she stood in a corner
smiling at an unappreciative world, like a patient sunflower.

The faces of the young men were a study as the games began, and the
three girls joined in them with the partners they had chosen.

"The Judge is evidently on his mettle, but he can't stand that sort of
thing long, even to please Portia; and then her Majesty will have to
give in, or condescend to some one out of our set," thought Charley
Lord, longing already to be taken into favor again.

"Polly will have to come and ask me to lead, if she wants to sing her
favorite songs; for I'll be hanged if I do it till she has humbled
herself by asking," said Ned, feeling sure that his sister would soon
relent.

"If it was any one but Belinda, I don't think I could stand it,"
exclaimed Phil, as he watched his lost sweetheart with wistful eyes;
for, though he submitted to the sentence which he knew he deserved, he
could not relinquish so much excellence without deep regret.

But the young men underrated the spirit of the girls, and overrated
their own strength. The "Sweet P's" went on enjoying themselves,
apparently quite indifferent to the neglect of their once devoted
friends. But to the outcasts it was perfectly maddening to see stately
Portia promenading with stout Major Quackenboss, who put his best foot
foremost with the air of a conquering hero; also to behold sweet Pris
playing games with her little pupils in a way that filled their small
souls with rapture. But the most aggravating spectacle of all was
captivating Polly, chatting gayly with young Farmer Brown, who was
evidently losing both head and heart in the light of her smiles.

"It's no use, boys; I _must_ have one turn with Portia, and you may hang
me for a traitor immediately afterward," cried Charley at last,
recklessly casting both pride and promise to the winds.

"O, very well; if you are going to give in, we may as well all eat
humble pie 'together,'" and Ned imitated his weak-minded friend, glad of
an excuse to claim the leadership of the little choir who led off the
weekly "sing."

Phil dared not follow their example as far as Pris was concerned, but
made his most elegant bow to Belinda, and begged to have the honor of
seeing her home. His chagrin may be imagined when the lofty wall-flower
replied, with a significant emphasis that made his face burn,--

"No, thank you. I need a very _steady_ escort, for I shouldn't take a
fall into a snow-bank as lightly as Pris did not long ago."

Charley met with a like fate at Portia's hands, for she outraged
established etiquette by coldly declining his meek invitation to
promenade, and two minutes later graciously accepting that of an
unfashionable young man, who was known to belong to a temperance lodge.

But Ned's repulse was the most crushing of all, for in reply to his
condescending hint,--

"I suppose people won't be satisfied unless we give them our favorites,
hey, Polly?" he received a verbal box on the ear in the sharp answer,--

"We don't want _you_, for I intend to lead myself, and introduce a new
set of songs which won't be at all to your taste."

Then, to his utter amazement and confusion, Miss Polly began to sing one
of the good old temperance songs, the burden whereof was,--

    "O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
          O, that will be joyful,
    When young men drink no more!"

It was taken up all over the hall, and the chorus rang out with an
energy that caused sundry young men to turn red and dodge behind any
capacious back they could find, for every one understood Polly's motive,
and looked approvingly upon her as she stood singing, with an occasional
quiver in the voice that usually was as clear and sweet as a
blackbird's.

This unexpected manoeuvre on the part of the fair enemy produced
direful perplexity and dismay in the opposing camp, whither the
discomfited trio fled with tidings of their defeat. None of them dared
try again in that quarter, but endeavored to console themselves by
flirting wildly with such girls as still remained available, for, sad to
relate, many of the most eligible took courage and followed the example
of the "Sweet P's." This fact cast added gloom over the hapless
gentlemen of the offending set, and caused them to fear that a social
revolution would follow what they had considered merely a girlish freak.

"Shouldn't wonder if they got up a praying-band after this," groaned
Ned, preparing himself for the strongest measures.

"Portia had better lead off, then, for the first time I indulged too
freely in the 'rosy' was at her father's house," added Charley, laying
all the blame of his expulsion from Eden upon Eve, like a true Adam.

"Look here, boys, we ought to thank, not blame them, for they want to
help us, I'm sure, and some of us need help, God knows!" sighed Phil,
with a look and tone that made his comrades forget their pique in sudden
self-reproach; for not one of them could deny his words, or help feeling
that the prayers of such innocent souls would avail much.




CHAPTER III.

_WHAT PORTIA DID._


"I know your head aches, mamma, so lie here and rest while I sit in my
little chair and amuse you till papa comes in."

As Portia bent to arrange the sofa-cushions comfortably, the tiny silver
pitcher hanging at her neck swung forward and caught her mother's eye.

"Is it the latest fashion to wear odd ear-r