- Merry Christmas, Mr. Higgins.
- Merry Christmas, Jo.
- Did you hurt yourself, Jo?
- No, I never hurt myself.
- Where have you been, Jo?
- Skating.
And it was splendid, my Beth.
Look, we've just finished
trimming the tree.
Christmas won't be Christmas
without any presents.
It's dreadful to be poor.
I especially feel it, because
I remember when we used to be rich.
I remember, too.
I certainly don't think it's fair...
for some girls
to have lots of lovely things...
and other prettier girls have nothing at all.
We are better off than a lot of people.
Orphans, for instance.
We have Father and Marmee
and each other.
We haven't got Father and
probably won't have him for a long time.
But the men in the Army
are having such a terrible winter.
I think it's right when Marmee said
we shouldn't buy each other presents.
We have to make sacrifices.
I'm glad to make them.
Only I am tired of making
these dresses over year after year.
At least you're the first to wear them,
as you are the oldest.
Well, I don't think any of you suffer as I do.
You don't have to go to school
with impertinent girls...
who label your father
just because he's poor.
If you mean libel, then say so,
and stop talking about labels...
- as if Papa was a pickle bottle.
- I know what I mean.
And you needn't be "statirical" about it.
It's proper to use good words
and improve one's "vocabilary."
"Vocabilary"?
Christopher Columbus. Aren't we elegant?
- Don't use slang words, Jo.
- And stop whistling, it's so boyish.
That's why I do it.
How I detest rude, unladylike girls.
And I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits.
Birds in their little nests agree.
Amy, you're too prim. Take care or you'll
grow up to be an affected little goose.
And, Jo, now that you turn up your hair,
you should realize you're a young lady.
I'm not.
If turning up my hair makes me one,
I'll wear it in two tails till I'm 90.
I won't grow up and be Miss March.
I won't wear long gowns
and look like a China aster.
I'll never get over my disappointment
at not being a boy. Look at me!
Dying to go and fight by Father's side,
and here I am, sitting and knitting...
- like a poky old woman.
- Knitting? Bless me.
- Poor Jo.
- I don't want any pity.
Someday I intend to be a famous writer
and make my fortune selling stories.
Then I shall live and behave as I please.
And you'll all ride around in fine carriages.
And you, my Beth,
you'll have a new piano.
And, Meg, you will have
10 dozen dresses and satin slippers...
and red-headed boys to dance with.
- I'd like that.
- There's no use fretting now.
Come, let's rehearse the play.
Beth, you play something gruesome.
Amy, I wrote a new scene for you.
It's wonderful!
- Oh, no.
- Well, it's perfectly simple.
All you have to do is shout,
"Roderigo, save me!" and faint.
"Roderigo, save me," and faint?
Oh, I can do that.
I planned my costume, too.
It's absolutely plain,
with all the colors of the rainbow in it.
Impossible.
Why?
I am a princess, am I not?
Yes, you are a princess,
but you don't know it.
You think you're a servant girl
working for Beth. I mean Hagar, the witch.
A princess always knows she's a princess.
Well, you don't.
Look! Beth has just left the stage...
with her kettle full of simmering toads.
You are locked in the tower.
Suddenly and unexpectedly,
Hugo, the villain, enters.
You cry out in horror,
"Roderigo, save me," and faint.
- Then Roderigo, Meg, enters...
- Meg, Roderigo?
I thought Meg was Don Pedro, my father.
She is, but you don't know it.
I've told you a thousand times,
till the end of Act Five...
you haven't the slightest idea
who you are.
- Does Meg know?
- Of course I do.
Then I want to know, too.
Why should I always be so "igonorent"?
Simply because if you know who you are,
the play is over.
It's too long anyway.
- Please, after all, it's my play.
- And the best we've had yet.
Jo's a regular Shakespeare.
It's nothing, really.
Now, ready?
Are you ready?
I'm Hugo.
I come in,
and with wicked intentions, I say...
Then I move closer.
- Come and get your tea, girls.
- Don't we ever have coffee anymore?
Coffee is scarce and dear.
The ships are needed in the war.
There ain't no time to go to Brazil
and bring back coffee for Miss Amy March.
And some folks
seem to have nothing better to do...
than to pry into other folks' business.
- Who is it, Hannah?
- That Laurence boy.
- What Laurence boy?
- Mr. Laurence's grandson.
I didn't know the old fusspot
had a grandson.
He just came last week.
But from what I can find out,
he must be a fine one.
- Why? What's he done?
- First he ran away from school.
That's the bravest thing I've ever heard of.
Couldn't trace him anywhere.
When they did find him,
he was in an Army hospital, wounded.
He'd joined up under another name
and lied about his age.
How perfectly splendid!
I should like to do the same.
Fine soldier you'd make.
- Jo, don't!
- It's our private property.
- I can look out of it as much as I like.
- You're every bit as bad as he is.
There he is.
Amy, Beth, stand back a little.
Well, I'm glad he's a boy.
I'd like to know a boy for a change
and have a little fun.
Don't say such things.
I wonder how I could get to know him.
I wish our cat would get lost
and he'd bring it back.
Then we'd get to talking.
I don't think that's very romantic.
Who said anything about romance?
Jo, you're disgracing us.
That dreadful boy. He waved back.
I'm Hugo.
You're supposed to draw back in horror.
Now cover your eyes with your hands.
Roderigo...
save me!
Amy, watch me do it.
Save me!
And faint.
It's nothing, really.
Here I come again, with wicked intentions.
I'm Hugo.
Here I come with wicked intentions.
Save me!
- Glad to find you so merry, my girls.
- Marmee!
How did everything go today?
Look, we've almost finished
trimming the tree.
- Have you had your supper?
- Yes. Bethy, give me another kiss, baby.
- Jo, you look tired to death.
- I'm all right.
- How's your cold, Meg?
- It's practically gone.
Marmee, I went to see Mrs. King
about the position.
She's going to take me
and I'm to start Monday, $4 a week.
My Meg, I'm proud of you.
They have a beautiful house
and the children are sweet.
Marmee, I don't mind working at all.
Put these on, Marmee.
They're nice and warm.
- Thank you, Bethy dear.
- I'll rub them for you.
The Army's so short of blankets,
we started cutting up carpets today.
I wouldn't mind sleeping under a carpet
if they'd only let me do something.
I'd make a wonderful nurse, or a drummer.
Jo, get my muff. I have a surprise for you.
- Surprise for Jo?
- For all of you.
A letter from Father!
He sent you a little Christmas message.
- What's that?
- Sounds like dear old Aunt March.
Yes, it's her sleigh.
- Good evening, Aunt March.
- Not at all, miss. It's freezing cold!
You haven't shoveled a path to the door.
I might have slipped.
- Merry Christmas, Aunt March.
- So nice of you to come.
- It was nice of me to come.
- Come by the fire.
No, I have a fire at home
where I should be this minute.
I only came to bring you these. Meg.
- Thank you, Aunt March.
- Jo.
Beth.
Amy. Where's Amy?
- Here I am, Aunt March.
- What are you doing back there?
I don't like this sneaking about.
Come into the open, I always say.
Thank you, Aunt March.
When I was a girl, I visited my aunts
to wish them a Merry Christmas.
They didn't visit me.
- See that you spend it wisely.
- We planned to visit you tomorrow.
You never know
if there will be a tomorrow.
Have you heard from your foolish father?
Waltzing away to war,
leaving others to take care of his family.
It isn't preachers that will win this war,
it's fighters.
We're very proud of Father,
and you should be, too.
- And there's nobody looking out for us.
- Highty-tighty.
- Some tea, Auntie?
- No.
If your father had listened to me,
you'd be better off today.
I begged him not to invest his money
with that swindler.
One look at him, and I knew that he would
take the pennies off a dead man's eyes.
That was years ago
and has nothing to do with now.
- It was our money that got lost anyway.
- Don't be impertinent!
It's a waste of time to talk to you.
Nobody listens to me anyhow.
- Merry Christmas.
- Merry Christmas, Aunt March.
Aunt March? You still want me
to work for you, don't you?
Fine time to ask me.
I'd like to be your companion.
- A companion should be companionable.
- I will be, I promise.
- I'm willing to bury the hatchet.
- Very well, then.
Come over after the holidays.
9:00 sharp. Bring an apron.
Thank you, Auntie.
Merry Christmas, Aunt March.
Merry Christmas.
- Look, Jo, $1!
- She gave us each $1.
How splendid!
Now I can buy the Black Avenger.
- I'm longing for a bonnet with a feather!
- A box of Faber's drawing pencils for me!
- What will you do with your dollar, Bethy?
- I'll buy some new music.
May we go now, Marmee?
- All right.
- We'll have presents after all.
Think maybe I ought to close up...
before somebody comes in
and wants to buy something.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Grace.
Your store looks just beautiful!
- Howdy.
- We each have $1 to spend.
I would like to look
at your Faber's drawing pencils.
And I'd like the Black Avenger
by Lady Avington.
Is that the book
you were reading the other day?
- Yes, that's it.
- You'd better get another.
You almost finished that one
sitting there on that ladder.
I'm looking for a bonnet, Mr. Grace.
Velvet with a dashing feather...
and a moss rose or two,
and a wisp of a veiling...
and an ornament about here. For $1.
You do, do you?
- Over in that there shelf.
- Thank you, Mr. Grace.
Now, what'll you have?
What's the matter, cat got your tongue?
No, sir. She's overcome with "temerdity."
She would like some music,
all she can get for $1.
Over there, on that table.
I would like a dollar's worth
of Faber's drawing pencils.
And wrap them, please.
And would you tie them with a red ribbon?
- A red ribbon? All right.
- Thank you.
Got your Black Avenger, Miss Josephine?
No, I finished it.
Skimmed through it while I was waiting.
- I hope you liked it.
- Oh, but I didn't. The ending was weak.
"The Duke's Bride."
If you don't like it
when you're through with it, bring it back.
Thank you, I will.
- I've decided on this one.
- You have, have you?
- Here's five of them, Mr. Grace.
- Fine.
- Thank you, Mr. Grace.
- Merry Christmas.
Oh, just a minute.
Thank you, Mr. Grace.
- Merry Christmas.
- Goodnight.
"To my loving wife and children:
"Give my girls my love and a kiss.
"Tell them I think of them by day,
pray for them by night...
"and find my best comfort
in their affection at all times.
"I know they will remember all I said,
that they will be loving children to you...
"will work diligently so that
these hard times need not be wasted...
"fight their bosom enemies bravely...
"and conquer themselves so beautifully...
"that when I come back to them,
I may be fonder...
"and prouder than ever
of my little women."
- Ma'am?
- Yes, Hannah?
A message from poor Mrs. Hummel.
She wants to know, can you come?
Right away.
Could you get my boots, Amy, please?
My wraps, Jo?
- Goodnight, my children.
- Goodnight, Marmee.
Don't wait up for me. I might be late.
Goodnight.
Marmee really ought to have
a new pair of slippers.
I'm the man in the family
while Papa's away...
so I'll supply the slippers.
Beth thought of them first.
Then I'll buy her Army shoes,
best to be had.
And I shall get her a nice pair of gloves,
pink ones.
A little bottle of cologne from me.
She likes it. And it won't cost much.
Then maybe I can keep
some of my pencils.
- But, Jo, won't the store be closed?
- We'll storm the citadel!
Has anybody seen my clothespin?
No one's taken your clothespin.
You ask that every night.
- You probably hid it under your own bed.
- It's not there. I looked.
It's Marmee. Scuttle, girls!
Christopher Columbus!
- Kidney pie and sausage!
- Popovers!
- And coffee!
- And everything!
- I don't know when I've had a popover.
- Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas, Hannah!
The table looks beautiful, Hannah.
- You do beat the Dutch.
- Don't see what the fuss is about.
I remember when I served
a breakfast like this every day.
We must have been enormously rich.
Tell me, Hannah. How was I dressed
when we had all that money?
In diapers.
Amy, wait for Marmee.
Mom says no. You're to have
your breakfast and go to church.
- She'll meet you there.
- Why? Where is she?
At the Hummels'.
Mrs. Hummel had her baby
early this morning.
Another baby?
Popovers.
One baby after another.
Six children, half-frozen,
huddled in one bed. No fire on the stove.
So your mom took her breakfast to them.
Not that there was enough to go around.
I believe in charity...
but after all, when you cook a decent meal
once in a blue moon...
you like to see it enjoyed.
Besides, we don't have any to spare.
You're absolutely right, Hannah.
- What's the matter, Beth?
- I'm not hungry.
People are starving everywhere,
every day.
If you let that worry you,
you'll never eat at all.
I try not to think about it.
Those people are far away,
and we don't know them.
But the Hummels are near,
and we do know them.
You're not thinking of giving
our breakfast to the Hummels?
Oh, no.
You couldn't think of a thing like that.
- I could.
- So could I.
- Either all of us do it, or none of us.
- Fine, we'll vote.
- That's fair.
- All right.
But I insist on secret voting.
I'll carry the popovers. You take the milk.
- Not at all.
- I'll carry them.
- You dropped this, madam.
- Thank you.
Come on, Josephine.
- You live next door, don't you?
- Yes, I do.
My name's Theodore Laurence.
This is John Brooke, my tutor.
How do you do?
- How do you do?
- I'm Jo March...
and I'd like you to meet my sisters.
That's Meg, and the other two up the road
are Beth and Amy.
How do you do?
We know all about you, you know.
About how you ran away to join the Army.
And I'd have done the same in your place.
And how you were both
in the same regiment, which is splendid.
Josephine, come on, please.
Well, 'bye.
What will they think? Stopping to talk
when we hadn't met them properly.
I don't care.
Anyway, you weren't very friendly.
You wouldn't even say "how do you do?"
I didn't like the way
that man stared at me.
What man? Mr. Brooke? I didn't notice.
Well, I did.
He's still looking.
- Who?
- Mr. Brooke. Don't look back.
Who, me?
One for you.
And one for me. Isn't this fun?
Doesn't that taste good?
Hello! Hustle yourself
and come on out and help me.
- I can't. I have the quinsy.
- What a shame!
It isn't contagious. I can have visitors.
I don't know anyone, though.
Well, you know me.
Would you care to come over
and keep me company?
Marmee!
Miss March calling on Mr. Laurence.
The young one.
- Won't you come in, Miss March?
- Thank you, I will.
- Hello, Miss March.
- Hello.
- Let me take your coat.
- Thank you.
Here's some blancmange.
It's soft and will slide down easily.
Thank you.
I've come to entertain you.
I'll read aloud and you can listen.
I do love to read aloud.
I'd rather just talk, if you don't mind.
- Oh no, I love to talk, too.
- Very well.
Christopher Columbus!
What richness! This is a palace!
It's marvelous!
So roomy and so full of things.
And look at the flowers!
They're lovely. Absolutely lovely!
I call this splendor, I really do.
Theodore Laurence, you ought to be
the happiest creature alive.
It just looks like a room to me.
And it certainly doesn't make me happy.
- Let's have some tea. How many lumps?
- One, please.
Three.
Well, Mr. Laurence,
now do tell me all about yourself.
I know about your school and the Army,
in fact, everything.
But before that, what?
- I used to live in Europe with my...
- Europe?
- I'm going to Europe.
- Really? When?
I don't know exactly.
You see, my Aunt March...
I just started working as her companion.
What a nervous, fidgety soul she is, too.
Anyway, my Aunt March has rheumatism,
and the doctor thought baths.
Not that she hasn't got a bath.
She has a very nice one.
Did you have any baths
while you were there?
- I mean for your rheumatism?
- I haven't got rheumatism.
Neither have I, but I figured
baths wouldn't do me any harm.
That is to say, while I was there.
I've always wanted to go to Europe.
Not for the baths, of course,
but for my writing.
It's so good for writers.
You see Aunt March...
But you don't know her.
What were you going to say,
Mr. Laurence?
I wasn't going to say anything.
But I'm not Mr. Laurence. I'm Laurie.
Well, Laurie.
How are you getting along
with your grandfather?
Fine. Once I get used to him.
You know he's... Well, he's all right.
- Yes, I know.
- Isn't he a holy terror?
You ought to see my Aunt March.
- This looks too good to eat.
- It is. Meg made it. She's the oldest.
She is?
- Brooke and I were wondering...
- Why? I mean, why should he wonder?
He seems quite taken
by your sister's beauty...
and he wondered if there was anybody...
That is, anybody she liked.
- Did he ask you to find out?
- No, I just...
You may tell him
we don't like anybody in our house.
That is, we like a great many people,
but we don't like young men.
We like young men, too,
but we don't like those...
who wonder about who else we like.
Meg is too young and far too clever...
to bother about who wonders about her.
It's all ridiculous!
- You're on fire!
- Fire?
Clumsy of me.
Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.
That's the second dress
I've scorched this week.
I like to toast myself and I get too close.
I think I'd better go home.
Please don't go home.
It's dull as tombs in here.
Is that why you stand at your window
looking in at us?
It's rude of me, I know.
But you always seem to be having
such a good time.
When the lamps are lit, it's like a picture...
to see you all around the fire
with your mother.
Where's your mother?
She died in France shortly after my father.
I'm sorry, truly.
I give you leave
to look in at us whenever you like.
Only why don't you come over?
Then you'd be a part of the picture.
And Marmee is so splendid.
Grandfather might not approve.
He doesn't believe in being neighborly.
- He'd say I was imposing.
- Oh, bilge.
He looks grim, all right.
I can see how his face
might frighten a lot of people.
But I can't imagine being afraid of him.
Of course, every time I've ever seen him,
he's been barking at something.
Somehow, I rather like him.
Well, thank you, ma'am.
And you think my face frightens people,
do you?
Yes, sir. Frankly, I do.
You understand, I don't think you mean
to frighten them, but your face...
Well, you asked me, sir. Yes, I do think so.
And I bark, do I?
I've heard you bark. Yes, sir.
Perhaps you don't bark all the time,
but you do bark. Yes, sir.
And with all that,
you rather like me, do you?
Yes, I do.
I really do, in spite of everything.
And I like you.
- Will you have a cup of tea?
- Thank you, I had one. I was just going.
- I'll walk home with you.
- No, young man, you're staying indoors.
I will see Miss March home.
I want to pay my respects to your mother.
I'm afraid I've neglected
my neighborly duties too long.
Higher, higher.
Class is dismissed.
I hope this'll teach her a lesson.
- Stuck-up thing.
- That'll teach her not to cut up didoes.
Amy March, you may close the door.
Mr. Davis, if I solemnly promise
not to draw anymore on my slate...
when I'm supposed to be doing sums,
may I go?
- Have I your promise?
- Yes, sir.
Very well.
Give me your slate.
Oh, no.
Your slate, Miss March.
I beg of you.
Did you draw this, Miss March?
I think so.
Hand me the ruler.
Hold out your hand.
Higher.
I'm ready, Mr. Davis.
You may go, Miss March.
Oh, thank you.
- What did he do?
- What did he say?
- Did he punish you some more?
- Tell us.
He didn't say anything.
I merely told him
that my mother would certainly...
take me out of this miserable school
when I told her how I'd been "humilated."
I told him I could not stay
to discuss the matter with him...
as I have to prepare
for the ball I am attending tonight...
which is being given in my honor
by Mr. James Laurence, the millionaire.
I told him I could not stand
the "deggeradation"...
of being forced to attend school
with a lot of ill-mannered girls...
who stick their silly noses
into refined, elegant people's business.
The stuck-up thing.
Oh, dear, it shows.
I don't know what you're going to do?
I'll blend it in.
I can do it with a few strokes of the brush.
Splendid. I'll stick
to every chair in the place.
- I thought if I pinned this bow over it...
- A bow? There?
I'm sorry, but you'll just have to sit on it.
Sit on one patch all evening.
She could stand
if she keeps her back to the wall.
- You'd better hurry, girls.
- Coming, Marmee.
How I hate to be elegant!
The dress is lovely.
Just lovely!
Thank you, Marmee,
for letting me wear your lace and pearls.
They're old,
but you're young and very pretty.
Thank you.
Amy, you're perfect.
Thank you.
- And Bethy.
- Isn't she the pretty one?
Do I really have to go?
There'll be all those people...
It would hurt Laurie's feelings if you
stayed at home. He's been so kind.
Besides, dear Beth,
you must learn not to be afraid of people.
All right.
My shoes are too tight,
and I have 19 hairpins sticking in my hair...
and a patch on my back,
and I feel dreadful.
- Where are your gloves?
- Here, they're stained with lemonade.
- I didn't think I'd better wear them.
- You must!
You can tell a lady by her gloves.
- Not this lady.
- A lady, barehanded?
You have to have gloves.
You can't dance without them.
I can't dance
and keep my back to the wall, anyway.
I'll crumple them up in my hand.
Here, at least wear one of my nice ones
and carry one of your ruined ones.
All right.
Don't stretch it.
Your hands are bigger than mine.
- Well, goodnight.
- Goodnight, dear.
Goodnight, Hannah.
Don't eat too much. Wait till you're asked.
Don't be afraid.
Have you all got clean handkerchiefs?
And don't put your hands
behind your back or stare.
And don't stride about or swear.
You'll disgrace me.
And don't say, "Christopher Columbus."
I'll be prim as a dish.
Let's be elegant or die!
So boyish!
That's the biggest piano I ever saw.
It's bigger than our kitchen.
- Meg's still dancing with Mr. Brooke.
- I bet she's getting dizzy.
You don't get dizzy when you
look straight into your partner's eyes.
Why not?
Because you don't see anything else.
You don't see other stuff whirling by.
May I engage you for this dance?
Do say, yes.
- Thank you, no. I don't care for dancing.
- I'm enthusiastic for it.
What are you doing there,
behind that palm?
There's nobody behind that palm.
- Then why aren't you dancing?
- Mother thinks I'm too young to dance.
Besides, I'd rather mingle with my sister
than mingle with the crowd.
- That is, if she were here.
- She can't see anything from there.
She doesn't want to see much.
She likes to listen to the music.
Come on out and sit
where you can hear it better.
What's the matter?
She has an infirmity.
She's shy.
I see.
If it weren't for that
she'd be simply fastidious...
for she's a real artiste
and plays the piano beautifully.
She should come over here
and play sometime.
She'd never do that.
She doesn't play for people. Just herself.
I wasn't going to listen to her.
It is just that
that piano is going to ruin for want of use.
I was hoping somebody would come
and practice on it, just to keep it in tune.
If no one cares to come, never mind.
Someone cares very much.
So you're the musical young lady.
I didn't realize
that you heard what I was saying.
I heard, sir. I'm Beth.
I'll come if no one will hear me
and be disturbed.
Not a soul, my dear. And you come, too.
Tell your mother
that I think all her daughters are simply...
fastidious.
Isn't he "perfectionary"?
This is the third polka,
and I'm hanged if you refuse me again.
Please, don't ask me anymore.
- Why not? Don't you like to dance?
- I love to. Only I promised I wouldn't.
Of all the silly... Why?
Look.
Again?
I have an idea. Come along.
Come on.
There's no one in here,
and we can dance to our heart's content.
Christopher Columbus, we're betrayed!
What will you girls take to keep
our secret? Money or refreshments?
Thank you.
We don't really care for anything.
We had a light supper at home, because
we knew the refreshments here would...
- Well, it's true.
- I am glad you changed your mind.
Come along. We'll bring them something.
Hello, Sally.
Good evening, Mrs. Gardiner.
Isn't it a beautiful party?
Laurie, my dear boy,
have you met my Sally?
Of course. Many times. Excuse us, please.
Rude. Absolutely rude.
That's what comes of his running around
with that Josephine March.
I suppose she's set her cap for him.
What can you expect
with four girls in a family?
One of them has to marry money,
since they have none.
Mr. James Laurence
will have something to say about that.
I'm sure he has other ideas for the boy.
Of course,
it would be a triumph for Mrs. March.
I must say,
she's managing the affair very well.
- What happened? What's the matter?
- I'll take it.
I brought you a beautiful lemonade.
- I want to go home.
- What happened?
We can't tell you now. Not in front of him.
She wants to go home.
She's had a dreadful shock.
- Will you ask Meg to come?
- Of course.
But someday, when I come back,
I hope to settle down in Concord.
- Mr. Laurence promised...
- Sorry to interrupt.
Jo asked me to fetch you, Miss Meg.
I believe it's an emergency.
Will you excuse me, please?
It would only upset Marmee if we told her.
There's nothing she could do about it.
- Of all the base, false, slanderous...
- Jo, we know.
- It doesn't do any good to swear about it.
- We can keep it from Marmee.
So let's take an oath never
to tell Marmee or anybody else.
That horrible Mrs. Gardiner,
insulting all of us.
And before we had our refreshments.
Stop thinking of your stomach
and take your oath.
- I swear.
- So do I.
And I.
I solemnly vow never to breathe a word
to a living soul, until death...
- To bed, girls.
- Right away.
- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.
Here, you take it.
Thank you.
You're going to have
a lovely nose someday.
Yes, I know.
- Goodnight, dear.
- Goodnight.
You don't have any plans for us, do you?
- Plans?
- You know...
like some mothers have
for their daughters?
Like wanting us to marry rich men
or something?
Yes, Jo, I have a great many plans.
I want you all to be beautiful,
accomplished...
and good.
I want you to be admired and loved...
and respected.
I want you to lead
pleasant and useful lives.
And I pray to the Lord
to send you as little sorrow as he sees fit.
Of course, I'm ambitious for you.
Of course, I'd like to see you
marry rich men, if you loved them.
I'm no different from any other mother.
But I'd rather see you
as the happy wives of poor men...
or even respectable old maids...
than queens on thrones...
without peace or self-respect.
I'm never going to get married. Never.
Aren't you, my Jo?
Go to sleep, now.
"And yet 'tis whispered...
"that when the gondolas
glide through the fatal waters...
"these same waters still run crimson...
"with the blood of Lady Viella...
"and her gallant lover...
"slain by the phantom hand.
"The end."
Yes, Beth? Come in.
- What's the matter?
- My story.
Poor Jo. Isn't it any good?
It's wonderful.
Laurie's waiting downstairs for you.
Oh, bilge, I told him not to bother me.
He said he's going to wait
until you come down.
Let him. I wish he'd realize
I haven't time for his nonsense.
- What's in the package?
- Slippers. I made them.
- Who for?
- A gentleman.
A gentleman?
What's the matter
with everybody in this family?
This is an old gentleman.
Father? They won't let him
wear those in the Army.
Father isn't old. They're for Mr. Laurence.
He's been so kind
about letting me play on that lovely piano.
In all the weeks I've been going there,
I haven't even seen him.
Say, isn't this Amy's hair ribbon?
- I think she was going to throw it away.
- You think?
You're a trump.
Is your story finished? Can I read it?
Not now. But keep your fingers crossed,
and maybe you'll read it in print.
- What will I tell Laurie?
- Tell him I went up in smoke.
Did you have a bad time?
Not very.
- Well, you got through quickly.
- Yes, thank goodness.
Why'd you go alone?
- Didn't want anyone to know.
- You're the oddest fellow I ever saw.
How many did you have out?
- How many what did I have out?
- Teeth, of course.
Christopher Columbus,
is that what you thought?
- What is it, then?
- A secret.
I thought we weren't having secrets
from each other.
- That's a girl for you.
- Oh, bilge.
- This is different.
- All right. Keep your secret.
I've got one, too.
- Something plummy?
- Something very plummy.
You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine.
All right. Here. Read for yourself.
"Pay to Josephine March, $1." For what?
Turn it over.
"In full payment for her story entitled,
The Phantom Hand."
What do you think of that?
$1?
It isn't much, perhaps...
but someday I'll get as high as $10.
I just don't understand you.
Cooping yourself up in that garret...
missing a lot of fun with me,
working, and for what?
- For one measly little dollar.
- It isn't the $1.
At least, that's not all of it. It's...
It'll be in print, and I wrote it.
And people will read it.
People I've never even seen.
Well, anyway,
I know where Meg's glove is.
- Is that your secret?
- Wait till you hear where it is.
Well, where is it?
In a certain pocket.
- Whose?
- Brooke's. Isn't that romantic?
No, it's horrid.
- You don't like it?
- It's ridiculous.
Of all the sickly, sentimental rubbish.
I'm disgusted. I wish you hadn't told me.
I'm glad Meg doesn't know about it.
She'd be furious.
She doesn't care about such stuff,
let me tell you.
She's perfectly happy
with the way things are.
You'd better tell Mr. Brooke
to keep away from us...
or I'll let him know what I think of him.
Trying to break up my family.
You'll feel differently
when someone falls in love with you.
On a soft summer day,
with the sun setting through the trees...
and your lover's arms stealing around you.
I'd like to see anyone try it.
Would you?
I'll catch you!
You can't catch me!
Yes, I can!
Let me in! Open the gate! Quick.
I'd have caught you if I hadn't fallen.
You should've seen Laurie when he...
Hello, Miss Jo.
Thank you for the afternoon.
Thank you. Paying visits has never been
quite so much fun before.
I hope we can do it again soon.
Goodbye, Mr. Brooke. Come along.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, Jo.
What are you mad at me for?
I've never been so embarrassed
in all my life.
When are you going to stop
your rude, romping ways?
Not till I'm old and stiff and need a crutch.
Don't try to make me grow up
before my time.
It's hard enough
having you change suddenly.
I haven't changed.
But it's time you had. Look at you!
No hairpins, no combs,
running down a public road.
I wish I was a horse.
- What's the matter?
- Promise me that you'll never leave us.
Promise you'll always be our Beth.
- Beth, hurry up! It's a surprise for you.
- Come on.
Come on. Hurry, in the parlor.
Hurry.
Wait till you see.
For me?
All for you, my precious.
We haven't even opened it. Read it!
You read it. I can't.
"Miss March.
"Dear madam..."
How elegant!
"...I have had many pairs of slippers
in my life...
"but I never had any
that suited me so well as yours.
"I like to pay my debts...
"so I know you will allow
the old gentleman...
"to send you something which once
belonged to the granddaughter he lost.
"With hearty thanks and best wishes...
"I remain your grateful friend
and humble servant.
"James Laurence."
"Humble servant."
Wait till I tell that to the girls at school!
Look at the cunning brackets, and the silk.
Go on, honey, try it.
Let's hear the sound of the baby piano.
I have to go and thank him.
I'll go now.
The piano's turned her head.
She never would've gone
in her right mind.
I came to thank you, sir.
Miss March!
It's one of those telegraph things.
- It's Father.
- Oh, Marmee.
He's in a hospital in Washington.
I must go there at once.
He's in an Army hospital in Washington.
Marmee wants to leave on the 4:00 train.
She's packing,
and she sent me to ask your help.
We need $25 for the fare.
I begged him not to go in the first place.
But nobody listens to me.
Not until they get into trouble.
Then they come.
Aunt March has a large pocketbook.
Aunt March,
what's the use of all that now?
- It's 2:00, and...
- Just like your father.
Always interrupting. Refusing to listen.
But you will listen this time.
I won't.
I came here because Marmee said
she's not proud to beg for Father.
Well, I am.
I'm too proud to beg for anyone.
I'd rather sweep the streets
than ever come to you again!
Stubborn! Obstinate! Rude!
I wonder what can be keeping Jo.
- Here's some port wine for him.
- Thank you so much.
- Meg, will you put them in the satchel?
- Yes. Here, Amy.
- Your gloves.
- Gently.
- Don't shake them.
- There's Jo.
Where's your bad-tempered daughter?
- I thought she was with you.
- Well she's not.
You will need more than you asked for.
Oh, Auntie.
Thank you.
Are you sure you know how to get there?
You change trains at New York.
- And then...
- You need feel no concern for her, ma'am.
Mr. Brooke will accompany her
on the journey.
Mr. Brooke? There's really no need.
Mr. Laurence has commissions
for me in Washington.
It will give me great pleasure
to be of service to you.
Thank you both.
Well, the carriage is ready.
We'll wait for you outside.
How kind you are.
It's a relief to know that Marmee
has someone to take care of her.
- Thank you, Meg. Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- Aren't you going to drink this?
- Thank you.
You won't forget the Hummels
while I'm gone, will you?
I promise.
Somebody might remember me
once in a while, too.
I hope everything turns out well,
but I doubt it.
Goodbye, Auntie.
Yes, Miss. I had to get dressed and ride
over here, just because you're stubborn!
Goodbye.
- Hello.
- Where've you been?
What kept you so long? I must say!
Aunt March croaked as she always does,
and I lost my temper.
So I decided to get some money
on my own.
Here, Marmee, this will pay for your fare.
Where did you get it?
I didn't beg, borrow, or steal it.
I only sold what belonged to me.
Your hair.
Your beautiful hair.
Oh, my Jo.
Your beautiful hair. You sold it.
I doesn't effect the fate of the nation,
so don't wail.
Christopher Columbus!
What've you done to yourself?
You look like a porcupine.
Really? I feel deliciously light and cool.
Your hair will grow back,
and it'll be as lovely as ever.
But you will never be more beautiful
than you are now.
- I like it.
- So do I.
It's strangely becoming.
May we come to the train?
No, dear. I want you to stay here
and go on with your work.
- Goodbye, my darlings.
- Goodbye, Marmee.
God bless and keep us all.
Work. I don't see why you want to work.
Money.
I've got plenty of that, if you ever need it.
And something else.
A sort of nervous feeling. I like it.
Jo, hurry!
- Don't come near me.
- What is it?
The baby's dead.
The Hummel baby died.
Oh, my poor Beth.
I tried to warm her feet,
but she was so cold and lay so still.
Then I knew that she was dead.
And the doctor came,
and he said it was scarlet fever.
- Come and lie down.
- Keep away from me.
You've never had it either.
I feel so funny.
How is she?
Can't anyone say? How is she?
I'd expected the fever
to turn by now, but...
- She doesn't even know us any more.
- Lf Mrs. March could be sent for.
Meg wrote out a telegram days ago...
and we wouldn't let her send it,
and now it's...
Just think...
she doesn't even know us.
Hold onto me.
Marmee will be here.
No, she won't.
How can she?
I got fidgety and sent for her yesterday.
She'll be here
on the 5:00 train this morning.
Here?
- In a few hours?
- Yes.
Dear Laurie.
I didn't mean to fly at you like that...
but you're such an angel...
and I don't know how to thank you.
Fly at me again.
Could it be that we'll laugh again
and have fun again?
I hope so.
To the railroad station.
- I shan't spare the horses.
- Bless you.
If God spares Beth...
I'll never complain again.
If life is as hard as this...
I don't know how
we shall ever get through it.
- What is it?
- Dr. Barnes.
My dears...
I think the little girl's
going to pull through after all.
Now keep the house quiet. Let her sleep.
When she wakes,
give her some warm milk.
Get some milk.
She'll be well.
Everything will be all right.
You're home.
Don't drop her!
I made a will when you were sick.
- You made a will?
- You needn't laugh.
I left you my plaster rabbit,
and my bronze inkstand.
After all, you lost the cover to it.
I left Laurie my clay model of a horse.
Even though he did say
it didn't have a neck.
There.
It's so wonderful to be downstairs again.
Everything looks so beautiful.
The flowers and the sun.
Mr. Laurence sent the flowers.
I ordered the sun.
- I willed you all my clothes.
- That was sweet of you, dear.
Of course, as I didn't die,
no one gets anything.
Begging your pardon,
but do the Marches live here?
- They do, indeed. All of them.
- I have a package for them.
Father!
My dear.
And now, my Beth.
Now I guess the March family
are all together again.
I call this splendid.
I do, really.
Where are you going?
Going?
Nowhere.
You must be expecting someone then?
- I?
- Yes, you.
- Are you expecting that man?
- I don't know what you're talking about.
- Lf you mean Mr. Brooke...
- He's the only one who comes here.
I hope you don't think you're in love,
because I can tell you you're not.
- I'm not?
- No, you can't be.
You see, I'm a writer.
And I write about girls who are in love,
so I know.
You have none of the symptoms.
You eat all right, sleep like a log...
you're not twittery, and you don't mope
in corners. Therefore, you're not in love.
Therefore, don't go and marry that man.
- I don't intend to go and marry any man.
- You don't?
Hurrah for you! You're a trump.
What will you say to him
when he comes begging for your hand?
Of course, he may not come around.
But if he does,
I shall say quite calmly and decidedly:
"Thank you, Mr. Brooke. You are very kind.
"But I agree with Marmee that I am
too young to enter any engagement now.
"So please say no more,
but let us be friends as we were."
Good. That's stiff and cool enough.
Then when you hand him the mitten,
things will be the way they were here...
It's him. I'll get out of the way.
Don't forget.
If I could only see his face
when you tell him.
Good afternoon.
I came to get my umbrella.
That is, I came to see
how your father finds himself today.
Well, come in.
He's in the rack.
I'll get him and tell that you're here.
What's the matter, Meg?
Are you angry with me?
How could I be
when you've been so kind to Marmee?
I only wish
I could find a proper way to thank you.
- Shall I tell you how?
- Please don't. I'd rather not.
Please listen to me.
I love you so.
And even if you don't love me now...
maybe you could learn to.
I don't choose to learn.
Please go away and let me be.
Do you really mean that?
Yes, I do.
Won't you even think about it?
Just go away. Please go away.
What's this?
What's going on here?
He's just a friend of Father's.
I'm so surprised to see you.
That's evident. What mischief is going on?
I insist on knowing.
Who is this young man? Mr. Brooke?
- Yes, Mr. Brooke.
- The Laurence boy's tutor?
Did he dare propose to you?
Please, he'll hear you.
- Have you accepted him?
- Please.
Now let me tell you.
If you marry this hook or rook or crook...
not a penny of my money goes to you.
Do you understand?
I shall marry who I please.
I don't care anything about your money.
It is your duty to marry a rich man
and help your family, Miss Independence.
And you may be sure that this hook...
knows that you have a rich relation, me...
and that's why he wants to marry you.
How dare you say such a thing?
Why, my John would no more marry
for money than I would.
Very well. Do as you please.
No one takes my advice.
Remember, the day that you marry him,
I shall disinherit you.
And now you've even made me forget
what I came for.
Meg, darling.
Thank you for defending me
and proving that you do care.
I didn't know how much
until she said those dreadful things.
Darling, will you wait for me?
Marmee, do something.
Go downstairs, quick.
John Brooke is acting dreadfully,
and Meg likes it.
"As they have given
and pledged their troth...
"each to the other...
"and have declared the same
by giving and receiving a ring...
"and by joining hands,
I pronounce that they are man and wife.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Ghost, amen."
Excuse me.
Don't feel too badly, Jo.
You've still got me.
I'm not good for much, I know...
but I'll stand by you all the days of my life.
I know you will.
You don't know
what a comfort you are to me, Laurie.
- Will you listen to what I want to tell you?
- No, Laurie, don't say it.
I will and you must hear me.
It's no use. We've got to have it out,
and the sooner the better for both of us.
Say what you like then. I'll listen.
I've loved you ever since I've known you.
Couldn't help it.
I tried to show you,
but you wouldn't let me.
Now I'm going to make you hear
and give me an answer.
I wanted to save you this, Laurie.
I never wanted you to care for me so.
I tried to keep you from it when I could...
And I only loved you more for it.
I know I'm not good enough for you, Jo...
but if you love me,
you can make me anything you like.
Laurie, I wouldn't change you.
You should marry a lovely,
accomplished girl who adores you.
Someone who would grace
your beautiful home...
and give you the sort of life
you really want.
I wouldn't. I loathe elegant society...
and you hate my scribbling...
and I can't get on without it.
I know we would quarrel.
- No, we wouldn't.
- We always have, you know...
and everything would be horrid.
- Lf we were ever foolish enough to...
- Marry?
No, it wouldn't, Jo. It would be heaven.
Besides, everyone expects it.
Grandfather has his heart set on it.
So don't disappoint us.
I just can't go on without you, Jo.
Laurie, I'm so sorry.
So desperately sorry.
But I can't say I love you when I don't.
Really and truly, Jo?
Really and truly, Laurie.
I don't think I'll ever marry.
Yes, you will.
I know you will.
You'll change. You'll meet
a good-for-nothing, no-account fool...
and fall in love with him
and work, live, and die for him.
I know you will because it's just your way.
And I'll have to stand by and see it.
I'll be hanged if I do!
- Laurie, where are you going?
- To the devil!
Are you very lonely, my Jo?
I think I must be.
You know, Jo...
when you were little girls,
I used to ask myself...
what would become of Meg
and Beth and Amy.
I've worried
about Meg's longing for wealth...
Beth's timidity...
Amy's selfish little ways...
but I never worried about you.
You always seemed so sure of yourself.
But lately, I find myself thinking of you
more than the others.
You often seem sad.
I'm not sad, Marmee, exactly.
I've been thinking.
I'd like to go away someplace.
Amy could take care of Aunt March,
and you'll have Beth...
If I could try my wings, maybe...
If you think so, Jo, perhaps you should go.
I'd go to New York.
I've always wanted to go to New York.
Why, they have the finest libraries
and theaters there.
I could take care of Mrs. Kirke's children
and write in my spare time.
I'll talk it over with Father.
We'll write to Mrs. Kirke.
Might be good for you.
It would.
And Laurie would get over me
while I'm gone...
and when I come back,
we'll be just the same as we used to be.
Of course, my darling.
You run on to bed, now. Goodnight, dear.
Goodnight, Marmee.
Make yourself at home.
I'm on the drive from morning to night...
as you may suppose with such a family.
But I promise you won't get homesick...
and Sophie will show you up
to your room. Sophie!
Your evenings will be free. I fixed
your room as comfortable as possible...
with a nice table for your writing.
There are some very nice people
in my house...
but it's a relief to know
that you'll be with the children.
Now, I must run
and change my cap for tea.
This is Miss Josephine,
the new governess.
Will you take her to her room?
- Thank you, Mrs. Kirke...
- Just make yourself at home, child.
I've never been in New York before.
I've been looking forward to it.
You see, I'm a writer...
and I need the experience.
New impressions.
A writer should meet and study people.
Search their souls,
figure out their problems.
I know I'm going to love New York.
I've always wanted to come here.
The baby!
Save the baby!
I beg your pardon. I'm so sorry.
This is Miss Josephine,
who's got you in charge now.
- Hello.
- Hello.
This is Professor Bhaer.
- How do you do?
- Come on, let's finish the game.
- I want to...
- That's for Miss Josephine to say.
- I'm afraid we have frightened her already.
- No, please go on with your game.
Thank you.
- You've lost a button off your vest.
- Thank you very much. Let's go now.
- I want to be the general.
- Now you'll be the general.
No, I want...
- He's such a lovely man.
- Who is he?
I know he must have been
a real gentleman at one time or another...
but he's as poor as a church mouse now.
- What does he do?
- He's a professor.
See, he learns them
how they talk in foreign countries.
But I don't see what good it does them
when they're living right here.
And then Goldilocks did what?
And then Goldilocks saw three chairs.
One was...
A great, huge chair.
And the other was what?
A nice, comfortable, medium-sized chair.
And the third was a little-bitty chair.
That's right. What happened then?
So she sat in the big chair,
and it was too hard.
I'll tell you the rest later.
Can you...
wait?
Yes, Kitty, I can wait.
Goodnight.
Please don't stop.
- It's so beautiful.
- Thank you very much.
What is that song?
I've heard you play it before,
and I'd like to send it to my sister.
It's called Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt.
The words are by Goethe.
Do you understand German?
No, I don't.
Then I will try to say them
for you in English.
Let's see, now.
"Only who knows what longing is...
"can know what I suffer.
"Alone and parted far...
"from joy and gladness.
"My senses fail...
"a burning fire...
"devours me."
"My senses fail...
"a burning fire devours me."
If only I could write something like that...
Something that would
set other hearts on fire.
You truly like to write, then?
I love it. Writing is my life.
I've scribbled ever since I was a child.
Some of my stories have been published.
I just sold one to The Weekly Volcano.
It's a wonderful one about...
I won't tell you what it is.
But you must read it yourself.
The Weekly Volcano?
You must forgive my ignorance,
but what is that?
Why, it's a magazine.
The story I just sold is the best I've done.
Since we seem to share
a mutual interest...
in writing and music...
would you allow me
to take you to the opera...
or the theater... sometime?
I should love it.
Please don't think me rude...
but if you're not going to sew on
that button, may I do it?
I was going to, but I couldn't find a button.
You put it right there.
- See?
- Thank you.
Sit down, please.
You are very kind.
It was wonderful!
Magnificent! Just like heaven.
- Are you happy, my little friend?
- It was divine.
I don't want to be a writer anymore.
I want to sing.
Thrill millions of people
with my beautiful voice!
Audiences will cheer me,
throw flowers at my feet.
Bravo!
But I wouldn't make up my mind too soon.
After the art museum,
you wanted to be a sculptress.
After the circus, you thought...
the bareback rider was
the most beautiful thing in the world.
I know, but to sing like that...
Nothing could be more wonderful.
- We will wake the house.
- I'm sorry.
There's something inside me tonight
that makes me want to shout.
And what would you shout?
I'd say:
"Look at me, everybody.
"I'm Josephine March and I'm so happy."
Then...
perhaps you haven't missed your home
so much lately...
or your old friends?
No, I haven't.
And you, and you alone,
are responsible for that.
Thank you, my little friend.
You know, I have seen Martha
many times before in Vienna, in Milan...
but never have I enjoyed it so much.
Now I know why.
Before, I have gone alone.
Tonight I went with you.
There is no greater pleasure
than to hear or see something beautiful...
with someone.
- Someone who...
- Miss Josephine.
- Kitty, you should be asleep.
- I want to tell you a story.
No story. Back to bed.
Once upon a time there were three bears.
- Miss Josephine.
- Yes, Sophie.
There's company in the parlor for you.
Company? Who could it be, I wonder?
Surprise.
Are these your new stories?
They look creepier than
The Duke's Daughter.
- Can I read them, please?
- Yes, of course.
"The Place of the Coffin Tree...
"or The Secrets of a Guilty Heart...
"by Josephine March."
Amy, I've never been so surprised!
You're thin, Josephine.
- Amy, you look lovely.
- Aunt March bought me this coat.
- Do you like it?
- I love it. Sit down.
Tell me everything. Why are you here?
What kind of a place is this?
Why haven't you had supper?
Aunt March, nobody has supper
till 7:00 in New York.
Tell me, now. When did you get to town?
An hour and five minutes ago,
and we're in a hurry.
We have to get to the shipping office
before it closes.
Shipping office?
Aunt March. Europe!
Yes, Jo, Europe.
I'm sailing tomorrow on the Britannia
and I'm taking Amy with me.
Maybe you can go the next time.
Amy, I'm glad for you.
I know I promised to take you,
but Amy and I get along famously.
And I never did get along with you.
It's all right, Aunt March.
I'm happy for Amy. It'll be thrilling for her.
Besides, I'm having a wonderful time...
theaters, operas, lectures...
I know Amy's a much better companion
than I could ever hope to be.
Tell me, how's Bethy, and Marmee,
and Meg, and Father?
They're all fine, except Beth.
She's not well, Jo.
My poor Beth.
She must get well. She must.
You know that Meg is expecting?
Dreadful, isn't it?
Yes, I knew she was. I think it's wonderful.
And how's Laurie?
Didn't you see him when he was here?
He and Mr. Laurence sailed
for Europe three weeks ago.
Laurie, in New York?
And he didn't come to see me?
You can't blame him
after the way you trotted off...
without so much as a goodbye.
Come, Amy.
We mustn't miss the shipping office.
Goodbye, Josephine.
Maybe the next time I go...
Goodbye.
I wish you were going.
I know how you've always longed to go.
No, darling. I'm perfectly contented here.
It's your reward.
You've always done sweet things
to please Aunt March.
Think of all the wonderful things
you're going to see:
The Turners, the Raphaels, the Leonardos...
Amy, you seem to forget
that hansom cabs cost money.
That's the trouble with people who never
had anything. Come easy, go easy.
- 'Bye, Josephine.
- Goodbye, Aunt March.
Goodbye, Amy.
- Write to me often.
- I will, Jo dear.
If I should see Laurie...
do you want me to give him
a message from you or anything?
Just tell him I love him, like a sister.
Do you really mean that, Jo?
And I wish he'd find a beautiful girl
and settle down.
- Goodbye, my darling Jo.
- Goodbye, little Amy.
Have a wonderful trip.
- Yes, Professor Bhaer?
- I have read your story in The Volcano.
I'd like to talk to you about it.
Will you please come in?
Yes. Thank you.
Sit down, won't you, Miss Josephine?
I have read your stories.
- Did you like them?
- I must be honest with you.
I was disappointed.
Why do you write
such artificial characters...
such contrived plots?
The Duke's Vengeance,
villains, murderers, fainting women...
Please. I am so sorry.
I didn't want to hurt you.
I want to help you.
What a blundering fool I am.
Don't pay any attention to me.
This has nothing to do with you.
It's just that everything happens at once.
And the rest doesn't matter so much.
I can bear that.
But Laurie...
I can never get over Laurie.
Your friend.
Something has happened to him?
Nothing happened to him, exactly.
Something's happened to me.
He came to New York,
and he didn't even come to see me.
What a fool he must have been.
No, it's my fault.
Only, I thought...
What does it matter what I thought?
I've made a mess of it,
as I do with everything.
But I tried. When I think of Aunt March
taking Amy to Europe...
when she always promised
she'd take me...
Not that I begrudge Amy the trip...
I suppose that's what I am doing.
The trip to Europe
you have so looked forward to.
That is a cruel disappointment.
I know.
And then, on top of it...
a stupid professor comes blundering
and makes things worse.
If I can't stand the truth,
I'm not worth anything.
I didn't think
those stories were very good.
The Duke's Daughter
paid the butcher bill...
and the Kiss of The Coventries
was the blessing of the Marches.
Yes, that is what I thought.
And then I said to myself,
"I maybe have no right to speak."
But then I said to myself,
"I maybe have no right not to speak...
"for you have talent."
- You really think so?
- Otherwise I would not say it.
You know that. And I say to you:
"Sweep mud in the street first,
before you are false to that talent."
Say it yourself,
"I will never write one single line...
"which I have not first felt
in my own heart."
Say to yourself:
"While I am young,
I will write the simple, beautiful things...
"I know and understand."
Will you do that, my little friend?
I'll try.
I'm going home.
- Home?
- It's where I belong.
They need me there. Beth is sick...
and I can help my family.
But then you will not be here.
I will not see you.
Whom will I go to the opera with?
Who will sew on my buttons...
when you are gone?
I may be back someday,
and I'll write you. Truly, I will.
You will write, but...
Go, Josephine. Go back to your home...
and write your stories
as you can write them.
And maybe someday, I will see you there...
in your home.
The winter's been so long.
I wish the spring would come.
You're back.
Marmee, it's so wonderful to be home.
The house has been empty without you.
My Beth.
I was wishing that spring would come, Jo,
and it has.
I have so many things to tell you,
very plummy, too.
And so many things to ask.
But presents first.
- This is for you, Bethy.
- Thank you, Jo.
It can accompany you while you play.
I don't play much now, Jo.
Not at all, really.
Where's Father?
In his study, dear.
He'll be so glad that you're home.
That's all, Jo.
Dr. Barnes says there's nothing we can do.
No, Father.
Not Beth.
These will be dark days for us, Jo.
For you, especially.
Now dry your eyes, my child, for her sake.
Don't let her see you cry.
Don't cry, Jo.
I don't want you to cry for me.
I'm not crying for you, darling.
I'm just lonesome for Meg and Amy...
and for our old happy times.
I guess the storm didn't help things either.
I'll be all right.
It's no use, Jo.
I know.
Please don't tell Marmee, but I know.
You mustn't be afraid.
Doesn't it sound funny,
me saying that to you...
when you've always said it to me?
You've always reminded me
of a sea gull, Jo.
Strong and wild...
fond of the wind and storm...
and dreaming of flying out to sea.
And Marmee said
I was the cricket on the hearth...
content to stay at home.
I can't express it very well...
I guess I shouldn't even try...
except to my Jo.
But it seems
I was never intended to live very long.
I never planned what I would do
when I grew up...
like the rest of you did...
because I could never bear the thought
of leaving home.
But I'm not afraid anymore, Jo.
I've learned that I won't lose you...
that nothing can really part us,
though it seems to.
And that we'll always be a family...
even though one of us is gone.
I think that I will be homesick for you...
even in Heaven.
Dedicated...
to my sister...
Beth...
who is now...
parted from me.
If it isn't the elegant young matron?
How are the twins?
Wonderful, Jo. What's that?
My novel. Finished.
I'm sending it off.
You can read it when it comes back.
- Maybe they'll publish it.
- I'm not sending it to a publisher.
I'm sending it to Professor Bhaer.
I promised it to him once.
That's an odd thing to do.
- You write him often, don't you?
- Yes, I do.
He knows what I'm writing about.
I mean, he understands me.
Why shouldn't I write to him?
He writes me.
I think it's splendid.
We had a letter from Amy.
They're in Val Rosa now.
And she says it's paradise.
I know. She wrote me, too.
They should be on their way home soon.
I've been wondering...
how would you feel if you heard...
that Laurie was learning to care
for someone else?
Who, Meg? Amy?
Yes, Jo.
Then I wouldn't mind at all. How could I?
I wasn't sure.
Forgive me, Jo. It's just that,
you know, you seem so alone.
- I thought that if Laurie came back...
- No, it's better the way it is.
But you're right about me being alone.
I am lonely.
And who knows,
maybe if Laurie had come back...
I might have said yes.
Not that I love him any differently...
but because...
it means more to me to be loved now
than it used to.
I suppose they'll get married
and live happily ever after.
I suppose they will.
- Lf you're going to the post office, I can...
- Thank you...
but I'd rather walk.
- Goodbye, Jo.
- Goodbye, Meg.
Come in.
Who is it?
Laurie, my blessed boy!
When did you get back?
Where's Amy, your wife?
- Downstairs. We just got here.
- I can't wait to see her.
Jo, dear...
I want to say one thing,
then we'll put it by forever.
You don't need to say it, Laurie.
It was always meant to be this way...
and it would have come about anyway,
if you'd only waited.
I know. You tried so hard
to make me understand.
But you were so impatient and stubborn.
Now that everything came about
the way you wanted it...
it'll be like old times again.
No, Laurie.
The old days can never come back.
We can't be playmates any longer.
We're man and woman now...
but we can be brother and sister.
And love and help each other
for the rest of our lives.
Yes, Jo, for the rest of our lives.
Come on. I want to kiss your bride.
- Here, now.
- This will make you feel better.
Want a cookie?
There you are. There.
Wonderful tea. Wonderful.
Coming home on a day like this, after
all the money I spent on my rheumatism.
Doctors. Baths.
Where is Jo? Where are they?
I'll never forgive myself for staying away
and leaving all the burdens to you.
Oh, you're so beautiful!
And to think that only yesterday
you were such a horrid little girl.
Aunt March, Mr. Laurence!
Welcome home.
Is Miss March in?
- Miss Josephine March?
- She is. Won't you come in?
Oh, no, thank you.
She has guests.
Laurie, where are you?
Come and get your tea.
Just a minute, Jo.
Will you give this to her, please?
Thank you.
You know, in Europe,
one feels that dirt is so picturesque.
- Here you are, my lad.
- Thank you.
This is for you, Jo.
- Why, thank you, Laurie.
- Oh, it isn't from me.
Well, open it. Don't just look at it.
Jo, your book!
- Oh, can you believe...
- Published.
- Who left it?
- A man with sort of an accent.
- Where is he?
- He wouldn't come in. He went away.
No, he couldn't have.
Jo, come back.
- Where are you going?
- My little friend...
I came here to give you your book.
My friend published it. He has great hopes.
- He thinks...
- Never mind what he thinks.
- Did you like it?
- It has such truth, such simple beauty.
I cannot tell you what it gives me
in my heart.
But you were going away
without telling me.
I would never have seen you again.
Please come back.
- I couldn't intrude. You have guests.
- But they're just my family.
My sister's come home.
She's married to that boy I told you about.
Herr Laurie?
Yes, and it's the first time
we've been together in a long time.
Please, Jo.
Just one moment before...
I have a wish to ask something.
Would you...
I have no courage to think that...
but if I could hope that...
I know. I should not ask.
I have nothing to give
but my heart, which is so full...
and these empty hands.
Not empty now.