“That’s very pretty; is it what you call a breakfast-cap?”
“My dear man, it’s a bonnet! My very best go-to-concert-and-theatre bonnet.”
“I beg your pardon; it was so small, I naturally mistook it for one of the flyaway things you sometimes wear. How do you keep it on?”
“These bits of lace are fastened under the chin with a rosebud, so;” and Meg illustrated by putting on the bonnet, and regarding him with an air of calm satisfaction that was irresistible.
“It’s a love of a bonnet, but I prefer the face inside, for it looks young and happy again,” and John kissed the smiling face, to the great detriment of the rosebud under the chin.
“I’m glad you like it, for I want you to take me to one of the new concerts some night; I really need some music to put me in tune. Will you, please?”
“Of course I will, with all my heart, or anywhere else you like. You have been shut up so long, it will do you no end of good, and I shall enjoy it, of all things. What put it into your head, little mother?”
“Well, I had a talk with Marmee the other day, and told her how nervous and cross and out of sorts I felt, and she said I needed change and less care; so Hannah is to help me with the children, and I’m to see to things about the house more, and now and then have a little fun, just to keep me from getting to be a fidgety, broken-down old woman before my time. It’s only an experiment, John, and I want to try it for your sake as much as for mine, because I’ve neglected you shamefully lately, and I’m going to make home what it used to be, if I can. You don’t object, I hope?”
Never mind what John said, or what a very narrow escape the little bonnet had from utter ruin; all that we have any business to know, is that