Shawl-Straps (e-book) (used book) | L M Alcott | bookbook.eu

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Shawl-Straps By Louisa M. Alcott'On the first day of February we three will sail from Boston for Messina, in the little fruit-ship "Wasp." We shall probably be a month going, unless we cross in a gale as I did, splitting sails every night, and standing on our heads most of the way, ' said Amanda, folding up her maps with an air of calm decision. 'Hurrah! what fun!' cried Matilda, waving a half-finished dressing-case over her head. But Lavinia, with one sepulchral groan, fell flat upon her bed, and lay there, dumb with the horrors of such a voyage. 'Just the thing for you, my poor old dear. Think of the balmy airs of Sicily, the oranges, the flowers. Then a delicious month or two at Sorrento, with no east winds, no slush, no spring cleaning. We shall be as merry as grigs, and get as buxom as dairy-maids in a month, ' said the sprightly Amanda. 'You promised to go, and if you back out we are lost, for we must have a duenna. You can lie round in Europe just as well as here, and I have no doubt it will do you a world of good, ' added Matilda. 'I shall keep my word but you will bury me in the Atlantic, so make up your minds to it. Do you suppose that I, a poor, used-up old invalid, who can't look at a sail-boat without a qualm, can survive thirty days of standing on my head, and thirty nights of sail-splitting, as we go slamming and lurching across two or three awful oceans?' demanded Lavinia, with the energy of despair. Before anyone could reply, Amanda's little Mercury appeared with a note. 'The "Wasp" will not take passengers, and no other fruit-ship sails this spring, ' read Amanda. 'Oh dear!' sighed Matilda. 'Saved!' cried Lavinia. 'Be calm: we shall go, sooner or later, if I buy a ship and sail her myself ' with which indomitable remark Amanda went forth to grapple with and conquer untoward circumstances. A month of plans, vicissitudes, and suspense followed, during which Amanda strove manfully Matilda suffered agonies of hope and fear and Lavinia remained a passive shuttlecock, waiting to be tossed wherever Fate's battledore chose to send her. 'Exactly two weeks from to-day, we sail with a party of friends in the French steamer "Lafayette," from New York for Brest. Will you be ready?' demanded Amanda, after a protracted wrestle with aforesaid adverse circumstances. 'But that is exactly what we didn't mean to do. It's expensive and fashionable France and not Italy, north and not south.