always getting what she wanted. The youngest Alcott girl shouldnât be the one traveling while her elder sister packed for her, Louisa thought. âDonât give your gloves to her,â she warned Beth from the doorway. âAfter May uses them for the whole summer youâll never get a dayâs wear out of them again.â
âYouâre just jealous, Louisa,â May retorted. âBecause Marmee picked me to go and not you!â May tossed her blond curls and sniffed. She had read in a romantic novel that this was ladylike.
âJealous?â Louisa laughed out loud. âYou little ninny. Youâre only going because you couldnât stay at home without Marmee!â
As if Louisa had stuck May with a pin, May started howling.
âLouisa!â Beth interrupted Mayâs wail. âMay, take them. I wonât need them.â She passed her little sister a limp pair of white cloth gloves. âAnd while youâre away, Louisa and I are going to have a lovely summer; sheâs going to finish the novel sheâs been so secretive about and Iâm going to play the piano, and weâre both going to take care of Father.â
âThat sounds very nice, Beth,â May said graciously, nodding with the manners of someone much more mature.âI promise Iâll think of you often. When I have the time, of course.â
Louisa growled, âFine, let her have the gloves. Otherwise sheâll just charm Marmee into buying her a new pair that we canât afford!â She turned on her heel and ran down the stairs, her toes barely touching the steps. She couldnât stay to help others pack for their adventures. Not while she remained at home in the dullest town in the world.
âLouisa!â Marmee emerged from the parlor, carrying a small pile of books. Louisa stopped short on the third stair from the bottom.
âYes, Marmee?â she asked, just barely keeping her frustration out of her voice.
âIs May ready yet? The boy will be here to fetch our trunks any minute now.â
Glancing longingly at the door, Louisa said, âNot yet, Marmee.â She looked back to the anxious expression on her motherâs face. âBut almost.â
âTell her to hurry. These are the last of what needs to be packed in my trunk.â She handed the books up to Louisa. âThen buckle it up, please,â Marmee said, already turning away, consulting her list. Over her shoulder she said, âIâll ask your father to carry it downstairs.â
Louisa trudged back up to her parentsâ bedroom. The trunk stood in the middle of the worn carpet, its open top like a crocodileâs mouth. She tossed the books inside and fastened theleather strap. Pulling hard enough to leave a mark on her hands, she told herself that her tears were from pain and not envy.
After checking that May was in the final stage of her packing, Louisa went downstairs to find Marmee. She followed the sound of voices to her fatherâs study. Glancing about the hall to be sure she was unobserved, she sidled up to the study door, pressing her body close to the wall.
âSo now you need my help?â Louisa heard her father say in the voice of a petulant little boy.
âBronson, please, letâs not argue again. Weâve been through this already.â Marmeeâs voice was exasperated but cajoling. Louisa moved closer so she could peek through the slightly ajar door. Marmee stood close to Bronson, his back to her. Pressing her cheek against his broad back, Marmee circled his torso with her arms.
His neck and shoulders stiff, Bronson said, âYou are making a fool of me. Everyone thinks I canât support the family and must send my wife out to work.â
Louisaâs eyebrows lifted high; why shouldnât they think that?
âDear heart, I am going to earn money for the family, yes, but who else could I trust to take care of our daughters? I rely on