Under the Lilacs

Under the Lilacs
by Louisa May Alcott

TO EMMA, IDA, CARL, AND LINA, Over The Sea, THIS LITTLE
BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THEIR NEW
FRIEND AND SISTER, L. M. A.

Contents
I. A MYSTERIOUS DOG
II. WHERE THEY FOUND HIS MASTER
III. BEN
IV. HIS STORY
V. BEN GETS A PLACE
VI. A CIRCULATING LIBRARY
VII. NEW FRIENDS TROT IN
VIII. MISS CELIA'S MAN
IX. A HAPPY TEA
X. A HEAVY TROUBLE
XI. SUNDAY
XII. GOOD TIMES

XIII. SOMEBODY RUNS AWAY
XIV. SOMEBODY GETS LOST
XV. BEN'S RIDE
XVI. DETECTIVE THORNTON
XVII. BETTY'S BRAVERY
XVIII. BOWS AND ARROWS
XIX. SPEAKING PIECES
XX. BEN'S BIRTHDAY
XXI. CUPID'S LAST APPEARANCE
XXII. A BOY'S BARGAIN
XXIII. SOMEBODY COMES
XXIV. THE GREAT GATE IS OPENED

UNDER THE LILACS
CHAPTER I
: A MYSTERIOUS DOG
The elm-tree avenue was all overgrown, the great gate was never
unlocked, and the old house had been shut up for several years.
Yet voices were heard about the place, the lilacs nodded over the high
wall as if they said, "We could tell fine secrets if we chose," and the
mullein outside the gate made haste to reach the keyhole, that it might
peep in and see what was going on. If it had suddenly grown up like a

magic bean-stalk, and looked in on a certain June day, it would have
seen a droll but pleasant sight, for somebody evidently was going to
have a party.
From the gate to the porch went a wide walk, paved with smooth slabs
of dark stone, and bordered with the tall bushes which met overhead,
making a green roof. All sorts of neglected flowers and wild weeds
grew between their stems, covering the walls of this summer parlor
with the prettiest tapestry. A board, propped on two blocks of wood,
stood in the middle of the walk, covered with a little plaid shawl much
the worse for wear, and on it a miniature tea-service was set forth with
great elegance. To be sure, the tea-pot had lost its spout, the cream-jug
its handle, the sugar-bowl its cover, and the cups and plates were all
more or less cracked or nicked; but polite persons would not take notice
of these trifling deficiencies, and none but polite persons were invited
to this party.
On either side of the porch was a seat, and here a somewhat remarkable
sight would have been revealed to any inquisitive eye peering through
the aforesaid keyhole. Upon the left-hand seat lay seven dolls, upon the
right-hand seat lay six; and so varied were the expressions of their
countenances, owing to fractures, dirt, age, and other afflictions, that
one would very naturally have thought this a doll's hospital, and these
the patients waiting for their tea.
This, however, would have been a sad mistake; for if the wind had
lifted the coverings laid over them, it would have disclosed the fact that
all were in full dress, and merely reposing before the feast should
begin.
There was another interesting feature of the scene which would have
puzzled any but those well acquainted with the manners and customs of
dolls. A fourteenth rag baby, with a china head, hung by her neck from
the rusty knocker in the middle of the door. A sprig of white and one of
purple lilac nodded over her, a dress of yellow calico, richly trimmed
with red-flannel scallops, shrouded her slender form, a garland of small
flowers crowned her glossy curls, and a pair of blue boots touched toes
in the friendliest, if not the most graceful, manner. An emotion of grief,

as well as of surprise, might well have thrilled any youthful breast at
such a spectacle; for why, oh! why, was this resplendent dolly hung up
there to be stared at by thirteen of her kindred? Was she a criminal, the
sight of whose execution threw them flat upon their backs in speechless
horror? Or was she an idol, to be adored in that humble posture?
Neither, my friends. She was blonde Belinda, set, or rather hung, aloft,
in the place of honor, for this was her seventh birthday, and a superb
ball was about to celebrate the great event. All were evidently awaiting
a summons to the festive board; but such was the perfect breeding of
these dolls, that not a single eye out of the whole twenty-seven (Dutch
Hans had lost one of the black beads from his worsted countenance)
turned for a moment toward the table, or so much as winked, as they
lay in decorous rows, gazing with mute admiration at Belinda. She,
unable to repress the joy and pride which swelled her sawdust bosom
till the seams gaped, gave an occasional bounce as the wind waved her
yellow skirts, or made the blue boots dance a