Everyone likes
and respects him, and I'm proud to think he cares for me, though
I'm so poor and young and silly," said Meg, looking prettier than
ever in her earnestness.
"He knows you have got rich relations, child. That's the
secret of his liking, I suspect.
"
"Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is above
such meanness, and I won't listen to you a minute if you talk so,"
cried Meg indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of
the old lady's suspicions. "My John wouldn't marry for money, any
more than I would. We are willing to work and we mean to wait.
I'm
not afraid of being poor, for I've been happy so far, and I know I
shall be with him because he loves me, and I . . .
"
Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn't
made up her mind, that she had told 'her John' to go away, and that
he might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks.
Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having
her pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl's
happy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour.
"Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a willful
child, and you've lost more than you know by this piece of folly.
No, I won't stop. I'm disappointed in you, and haven't spirits to
see your father now. Don't expect anything from me when you are
married.
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