She hated calls of the formal sort, and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain, bribe, or promise.

In the present instance there was no escape, and having clashed her scissors rebelliously, while protesting that she smelled thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready.
"Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint! You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveying her with amazement.
"Why not?
I'm neat and cool and comfortable, quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day.

If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them.

You can dress for both, and be as elegant as you please.

It pays for you to be fine.