A Merry Christmas
PENGUIN 
CLASSICS
A MERRY CHRISTMAS
Louisa May Alcott (1832–88) was born in Germantown, Pennsylvania, in 1832, the second of four daughters of Abigail May Alcott and Bronson Alcott, the prominent Transcendentalist thinker and social reformer. Raised in Concord, Massachusetts, and educated by her father, she early on came under the influence of the great men of her father’s circle: Emerson, Hawthorne, the preacher Theodore Parker, and Thoreau. From her youth, she worked at various tasks to help support her family: sewing, teaching, domestic service, and writing. In 1862, she volunteered to serve as an army nurse in a Union hospital during the Civil War—an experience that provided her material for her first successful book, Hospital Sketches (1863). Between 1863 and 1869, she published several anonymous and pseudonymous Gothic romances and lurid thrillers. But fame came with the publication of her Little Women (1868–69), a novel based on the childhood adventures of the four Alcott sisters. In the wake of Little Women’s popularity, she brought out An Old-Fashioned Girl (1870), Little Men (1871), Eight Cousins (1875), Rose in Bloom (1876), Jo’s Boys (1886), and other books for children, as well as two adult novels, Moods (1865) and Work (1873). An active participant in the women’s suffrage and temperance movements during the last decade of her life, she died in Boston on the day her father was buried.
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This edition published in Penguin Books 2014
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Alcott, Louisa May, 1832–1888.
[Short stories. Selections]
A merry Christmas, and other Christmas stories / Louisa May Alcott.
pages cm — (Penguin classics)
eBook ISBN 978-0-698-17092-6
1. Christmas stories, American. I. Title.
PS1016 2014
813'.4—dc23
2014012790
Version_1
Contents
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
A MERRY CHRISTMAS
A Merry Christmas
Kate’s Choice
The Quiet Little Woman
Tilly’s Christmas
What Love Can Do
Rosa’s Tale
Mrs. Podgers’ Teapot
A Merry Christmas
From Little Women
JO WAS THE FIRST TO WAKE IN THE GRAY DAWN of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much disappointment as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was so crammed with goodies. Then she remembered her mother’s promise, and slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going the long journey. She woke Meg with a “Merry Christmas” and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few words written by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke, to rummage and find their little books also—one dove-colored, the other blue; and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the East grew rosy with the coming day.
In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given.
“Girls,” said Meg, seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to the two little nightcapped ones in the room beyond, “Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it; but since father went away, and all this war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you please; but I shall keep my book on the table here, and read a little every morning as soon as I wake, for I know it will do me good, and help me through the day.”
Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm around her, and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face.
“How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let’s do as they do. I’ll help you with the hard words, and they’ll explain things if we don’t understand,” whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters’ example.
“I’m glad mine is blue,” said Amy; and then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting.
“Where is Mother?” asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later.
“Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter come a-beggin’, and your ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for givin’ away vittles and drink, clothes and firin’,” replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant.
“She will be back soon, I guess; so do your cakes, and have everything ready,” said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. “Why, where is Amy’s bottle of cologne?” she added, as the little flask did not appear.
“She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put a ribbon on it, or some such notion,” replied Jo, dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers.
“How nice my handkerchiefs look, don’t they? Hannah washed and ironed them for me, and I marked them all myself,” said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labor.
“Bless the child; she’s gone and put ‘Mother’ on them instead of M. March; how funny!” cried Jo, taking up one.
“Isn’t it right? I thought it was better to do it so, because Meg’s initials are ‘M.M.,’ and I don’t want anyone to use these but Marmee,” said Beth, looking troubled.
“It’s all right, dear, and a very pretty idea; quite sensible, too, for no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, I know,” said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.
“There’s mother; hide the basket, quick!” cried Jo, as a door slammed and steps sounded in the hall.
Amy came in hastily and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her.
“Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?” asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early.
“Don’t laugh at me, Jo; I didn’t mean anyone should know till the time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one, and I gave all my money to get it, and I’m truly trying not to be selfish anymore.”
As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one; and looked so earnest and humble in her little effort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on the spot and Jo pronounced her “a trump,” while Beth ran to the window and picked her finest rose to ornament the stately bottle.
“You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this morning, so I ran ’round the corner and changed it the minute I was up; and I’m so glad, for mine is the handsomest now.”
Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa and the girls to the table eager for breakfast.
“Merry Christmas, Marmee! Lots of them! Thank you for our books; we read some, and mean to every day,” they cried in chorus.
“Merry Christmas, little daughters! I’m glad you began at once and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down.
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