Arbeitsblatt: LITTLE WOMEN

Little Women Louisa May Alcott Published: 1868 Categorie(s): Fiction, Juvenile Young Adult Source: About Alcott: Louisa May Alcott (November 29, 1832 – March 6, 1888) was an American novelist. She is best known for the novel Little Women, which she wrote in 1868. This novel was loosely based on her childhood experiences with her three sisters. Source: Wikipedia Also available on Feedbooks Alcott: An Old-fashioned Girl (1869) Little Men: Life At Plumfield With Jo Boys (1871) Jo Boys, and How They Turned Out: Sequel to Little Men (1886) The Abbot Ghost, or Maurice Treherne Temptation (1867) Eight Cousins (1875) Flower Fables (1849) Note: This book is brought to you by Feedbooks Strictly for personal use, do not use this file for commercial purposes. Part 1 Chapter 1 Playing Pilgrims Christmas wont be Christmas without any presents, grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. It so dreadful to be poor! sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress. I dont think it fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all, added little Amy, with an injured sniff. Weve got Father and Mother, and each other, said Beth contentedly from her corner. The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly, We havent got Father, and shall not have him for long time. She didnt say perhaps never, but each silently added it, thinking of Father far away, where the fighting was. Nobody spoke for minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men are suffering so in the army. We cant do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But am afraid dont, and Meg shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted. But dont think the little we should spend would do any good. Weve each got dollar, and the army wouldnt be much helped by our giving that. agree not to expect anything from Mother or you, but do want to buy Undine and Sintran for myself. Ive wanted it so long, said Jo, who was bookworm. I planned to spend mine in new music, said Beth, with little sigh, which no one heard but the hearth brush and kettle-holder. I shall get nice box of Faber drawing pencils; really need them, said Amy decidedly. Mother didnt say anything about our money, and she wont wish us to give up everything. Let each buy what we want, and have little fun; Im sure we work hard enough to earn it, cried Jo, examining the heels of her shoes in gentlemanly manner. I know do—teaching those tiresome children nearly all day, when Im longing to enjoy myself at home, began Meg, in the complaining tone again. You dont have half such hard time as do, said Jo. How would you like to be shut up for hours with nervous, fussy old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you till youre ready to fly out the window or cry? It naughty to fret, but do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross, and my hands get so stiff, cant practice well at all. And Beth looked at her rough hands with sigh that any one could hear that time. I dont believe any of you suffer as do, cried Amy, for you dont have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if you dont know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label your father if he isnt rich, and insult you when your nose isnt nice. If you mean libel, Id say so, and not talk about labels, as if Papa was pickle bottle, advised Jo, laughing. I know what mean, and you neednt be statirical about it. It proper to use good words, and improve your vocabilary, returned Amy, with dignity. Dont peck at one another, children. Dont you wish we had the money Papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! How happy and good wed be, if we had no worries! said Meg, who could remember better times. You said the other day you thought we were deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money. So did, Beth. Well, think we are. For though we do have to work, we make fun of ourselves, and are pretty jolly set, as Jo would say. Jo does use such slang words! observed Amy, with reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle. Dont, Jo. It so boyish! That why do it. I detest rude, unladylike girls! I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits! Birds in their little nests agree, sang Beth, the peacemaker, with such funny face that both sharp voices softened to laugh, and the pecking ended for that time. Really, girls, you are both to be blamed, said Meg, beginning to lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It didnt matter so much when you were little girl, but now you are so tall, and turn up your hair, you should remember that you are young lady. Im not! And if turning up my hair makes me one, Ill wear it in two tails till Im twenty, cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking down chestnut mane. I hate to think Ive got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as China Aster! It bad enough to be girl, anyway, when like boy games and work and manners! cant get over my disappointment in not being boy. And it worse than ever now, for Im dying to go and fight with Papa. And can only stay home and knit, like poky old woman! And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room. Poor Jo! It too bad, but it cant be helped. So you must try to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother to us girls, said Beth, stroking the rough head with hand that all the dish washing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch. As for you, Amy, continued Meg, you are altogether too particular and prim. Your airs are funny now, but youll grow up an affected little goose, if you dont take care. like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking, when you dont try to be elegant. But your absurd words are as bad as Jo slang. If Jo is tomboy and Amy goose, what am I, please? asked Beth, ready to share the lecture. Youre dear, and nothing else, answered Meg warmly, and no one contradicted her, for the Mouse was the pet of the family. As young readers like to know how people look, we will take this moment to give them little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without, and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was comfortable room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain, for good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and pleasant atmosphere of home peace pervaded it. Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had decided mouth, comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of girl who was rapidly shooting up into woman and didnt like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with shy manner, timid voice, and peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her Little Miss Tranquility, and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was most important person, in her own opinion at least. regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out. The clock struck six and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had good effect upon the girls, for Mother was coming, and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze. They are quite worn out. Marmee must have new pair. I thought Id get her some with my dollar, said Beth. No, shall! cried Amy. Im the oldest, began Meg, but Jo cut in with decided, Im the man of the family now Papa is away, and shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of Mother while he was gone. Ill tell you what well do, said Beth, let each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves. That like you, dear! What will we get? exclaimed Jo. Everyone thought soberly for minute, then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, I shall give her nice pair of gloves. Army shoes, best to be had, cried Jo. Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed, said Beth. Ill get little bottle of cologne. She likes it, and it wont cost much, so Ill have some left to buy my pencils, added Amy. How will we give the things? asked Meg. Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Dont you remember how we used to do on our birthdays? answered Jo. I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the chair with the crown on, and see you all come marching round to give the presents, with kiss. liked the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while opened the bundles, said Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea at the same time. Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg. There is so much to do about the play for Christmas night, said Jo, marching up and down, with her hands behind her back, and her nose in the air. I dont mean to act any more after this time. Im getting too old for such things, observed Meg, who was as much child as ever about dressing-up frolics. You wont stop, know, as long as you can trail round in white gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are the best actress weve got, and therell be an end of everything if you quit the boards, said Jo. We ought to rehearse tonight. Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as poker in that. I cant help it. never saw anyone faint, and dont choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If can go down easily, Ill drop. If cant, shall fall into chair and be graceful. dont care if Hugo does come at me with pistol, returned Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power, but was chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by the villain of the piece. Do it this way. Clasp your hands so, and stagger across the room, crying frantically, Roderigo! Save me! Save me!\ and away went Jo, with melodramatic scream which was truly thrilling. Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by machinery, and her Ow! was more suggestive of pins being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest. It no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if the audience laughs, dont blame me. Come on, Meg. Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in speech of two pages without single break. Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect. Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic, with wild, Ha! Ha! It the best weve had yet, said Meg, as the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows. I dont see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo. Youre regular Shakespeare! exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things. Not quite, replied Jo modestly. I do think The Witches Curse, an Operatic Tragedy is rather nice thing, but Id like to tryMacbeth, if we only had trapdoor for Banquo. always wanted to do the killing part. Is that dagger that see before me? muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen famous tragedian do. No, it the toasting fork, with Mother shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth stage-struck! cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in general burst of laughter. Glad to find you so merry, my girls, said cheery voice at the door, and actors and audience turned to welcome tall, motherly lady with can help you look about her which was truly delightful. She was not elegantly dressed, but noble-looking woman, and the girls thought the gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid mother in the world. Well, dearies, how have you got on today? There was so much to do, getting the boxes ready to go tomorrow, that didnt come home to dinner. Has anyone called, Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby. While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea table, Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, overturning, and clattering everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor kitchen, quiet and busy, while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded. As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with particularly happy face, Ive got treat for you after supper. quick, bright smile went round like streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her hands, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up her napkin, crying, A letter! letter! Three cheers for Father! Yes, nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls, said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got treasure there. Hurry and get done! Dont stop to quirk your little finger and simper over your plate, Amy, cried Jo, choking on her tea and dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat. Beth ate no more, but crept away to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready. I think it was so splendid in Father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for soldier, said Meg warmly. Dont wish could go as drummer, vivan—what its name? Or nurse, so could be near him and help him, exclaimed Jo, with groan. It must be very disagreeable to sleep in tent, and eat all sorts of badtasting things, and drink out of tin mug, sighed Amy. When will he come home, Marmee? asked Beth, with little quiver in her voice. Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we wont ask for him back minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear the letter. They all drew to the fire, Mother in the big chair with Beth at her feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the letter should happen to be touching. Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little was said of the hardships endured, the dangers faced, or the homesickness conquered. It was cheerful, hopeful letter, full of lively descriptions of camp life, marches, and military news, and only at the end did the writer heart over-flow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home. Give them all of my dear love and kiss. Tell them think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection at all times. year seems very long to wait before see them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. know they will remember all said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully that when come back to them may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women. Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo wasnt ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother shoulder and sobbed out, I am selfish girl! But Ill truly try to be better, so he maynt be disappointed in me by-and-by. We all will, cried Meg. I think too much of my looks and hate to work, but wont any more, if can help it. Ill try and be what he loves to call me, a little woman and not be rough and wild, but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else, said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was much harder task than facing rebel or two down South. Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock and began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all that Father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy coming home. Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo words, by saying in her cheery voice, Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrims Progress when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my piece bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop, where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make Celestial City. What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing through the valley where the hob-goblins were, said Jo. I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs, said Meg. I dont remember much about it, except that was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the top. If wasnt too old for such things, Id rather like to play it over again, said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve. We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is play we are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace which is true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can get before Father comes home. Really, Mother? Where are our bundles? asked Amy, who was very literal young lady. Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth. rather think she hasnt got any, said her mother. Yes, have. Mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice pianos, and being afraid of people. Beth bundle was such funny one that everybody wanted to laugh, but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much. Let us do it, said Meg thoughtfully. It is only another name for trying to be good, and the story may help us, for though we do want to be good, it hard work and we forget, and dont do our best. We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions, like Christian. What shall we do about that? asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty. Look under your pillows Christmas morning, and you will find your guidebook, replied Mrs. March. They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table, then out came the four little work baskets, and the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one grumbled. They adopted Jo plan of dividing the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different countries as they stitched their way through them. At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano, but she had way of softly touching the yellow keys and making pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had voice like flute, and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like cricket, and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with croak or quaver that spoiled the most pensive tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp Crinkle, crinkle, ittle tar, and it had become household custom, for the mother was born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice as she went about the house singing like lark, and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby. Chapter 2 Merry Christmas Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for moment she felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was crammed so full of goodies. Then she remembered her mother promise and, slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out little crimsoncovered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was true guidebook for any pilgrim going on long journey. She woke Meg with Merry Christmas, and bade her see what was under her pillow. green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and few words written by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke to rummage and find their little books also, one dovecolored, the other blue, and all sat looking at and talking about them, while the east grew rosy with the coming day. In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had sweet and pious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters, especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed her because her advice was so gently given. Girls, said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled head beside her to the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond, Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and we must begin at once. We used to be faithful about it, but since Father went away and all this war trouble unsettled us, we have neglected many things. You can do as you please, but shall keep my book on the table here and read little every morning as soon as wake, for know it will do me good and help me through the day. Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put her arm round her and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with the quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face. How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let do as they do. Ill help you with the hard words, and theyll explain things if we dont understand, whispered Beth, very much impressed by the pretty books and her sisters example. Im glad mine is blue, said Amy. and then the rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned, and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with Christmas greeting. Where is Mother? asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down to thank her for their gifts, half an hour later. Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came a-beggin, and your ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such woman for givin away vittles and drink, clothes and firin, replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born, and was considered by them all more as friend than servant. She will be back soon, think, so fry your cakes, and have everything ready, said Meg, looking over the presents which were collected in basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be produced at the proper time. Why, where is Amy bottle of cologne? she added, as the little flask did not appear. She took it out minute ago, and went off with it to put ribbon on it, or some such notion, replied Jo, dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers. How nice my handkerchiefs look, dont they? Hannah washed and ironed them for me, and marked them all myself, said Beth, looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost her such labor. Bless the child! She gone and put Mother on them instead of M. March. How funny! cried Jo, taking one up. Isnt that right? thought it was better to do it so, because Meg initials are M.M., and dont want anyone to use these but Marmee, said Beth, looking troubled. It all right, dear, and very pretty idea, quite sensible too, for no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, know, said Meg, with frown for Jo and smile for Beth. There Mother. Hide the basket, quick! cried Jo, as door slammed and steps sounded in the hall. Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she saw her sisters all waiting for her. Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you? asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amy had been out so early. Dont laugh at me, Jo! didnt mean anyone should know till the time came. only meant to change the little bottle for big one, and gave all my money to get it, and Im truly trying not to be selfish any more. As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replaced the cheap one, and looked so earnest and humble in her little effort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jo pronounced her a trump, while Beth ran to the window, and picked her finest rose to ornament the stately bottle. You see felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talking about being good this morning, so ran round the corner and changed it the minute was up, and Im so glad, for mine is the handsomest now. Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa, and the girls to the table, eager for breakfast. Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books. We read some, and mean to every day, they all cried in chorus. Merry Christmas, little daughters! Im glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies poor woman with little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as Christmas present? They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for minute no one spoke, only minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, Im so glad you came before we began! May go and help carry the things to the poor little children? asked Beth eagerly. I shall take the cream and the muffings, added Amy, heroically giving up the article she most liked. Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the bread into one big plate. I thought youd do it, said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied. You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will have bread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinnertime. They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party. poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, sick mother, wailing baby, and group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm. How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in. Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us! said the poor woman, crying for joy. Funny angels in hoods and mittens, said Jo, and set them to laughing. In few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made fire, and stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs. March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promises of help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. The girls meantime spread the table, set the children round the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, laughing, talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English. Das ist gut! Die Engel-kinder! cried the poor things as they ate and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze. The girls had never been called angel children before, and thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered Sancho ever since she was born. That was very happy breakfast, though they didnt get any of it. And when they went away, leaving comfort behind, think there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning. That loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and like it, said Meg, as they set out their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels. Not very splendid show, but there was great deal of love done up in the few little bundles, and the tall vase of red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which stood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table. She coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three cheers for Marmee! cried Jo, prancing about while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat of honor. Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both surprised and touched, and smiled with her eyes full as she examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied them. The slippers went on at once, new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, well scented with Amy cologne, the rose was fastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced perfect fit. There was good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining, in the simple, loving fashion which makes these home festivals so pleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterward, and then all fell to work. The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time that the rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities. Being still too young to go often to the theater, and not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances, the girls put their wits to work, and necessity being the mother of invention, made whatever they needed. Very clever were some of their productions, pasteboard guitars, antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter boats covered with silver paper, gorgeous robes of old cotton, glittering with tin spangles from pickle factory, and armor covered with the same useful diamond shaped bits left in sheets when the lids of preserve pots were cut out. The big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels. No gentleman were admitted, so Jo played male parts to her heart content and took immense satisfaction in pair of russet leather boots given her by friend, who knew lady who knew an actor. These boots, an old foil, and slashed doublet once used by an artist for some picture, were Jo chief treasures and appeared on all occasions. The smallness of the company made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece, and they certainly deserved some credit for the hard work they did in learning three or four different parts, whisking in and out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides. It was excellent drill for their memories, harmless amusement, and employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely, or spent in less profitable society. On Christmas night, dozen girls piled onto the bed which was the dress circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in most flattering state of expectancy. There was good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, trifle of lamp smoke, and an occasional giggle from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the operatic tragedy began. A gloomy wood, according to the one playbill, was represented by few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor, and cave in the distance. This cave was made with clothes horse for roof, bureaus for walls, and in it was small furnace in full blast, with black pot on it and an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark and the glow of the furnace had fine effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside, then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with clanking sword at his side, slouching hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in wild strain, singing of his hatred for Roderigo, his love for Zara, and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo voice, with an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, were very impressive, and the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with the air of one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth with commanding, What ho, minion! need thee! Out came Meg, with gray horsehair hanging about her face, red and black robe, staff, and cabalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in fine dramatic melody, promised both, and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love philter. Hither, hither, from thy home, Airy sprite, bid thee come! Born of roses, fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew? Bring me here, with elfin speed, The fragrant philter which need. Make it sweet and swift and strong, Spirit, answer now my song! soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of the cave appeared little figure in cloudy white, with glittering wings, golden hair, and garland of roses on its head. Waving wand, it sang Hither come, From my airy home, Afar in the silver moon. Take the magic spell, And use it well, Or its power will vanish soon! And dropping small, gilded bottle at the witch feet, the spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition, not lovely one, for with bang an ugly black imp appeared and, having croaked reply, tossed dark bottle at Hugo and disappeared with mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his boots, Hugo departed, and Hagar informed the audience that as he had killed few of her friends in times past, she had cursed him, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Then the curtain fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play. good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again, but when it became evident what masterpiece of stage carpentery had been got up, no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb. tower rose to the ceiling, halfway up appeared window with lamp burning in it, and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut lovelocks, guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang serenade in melting tones. Zara replied and, after musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced rope ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo shoulder, and was about to leap gracefully down when Alas! Alas for Zara! she forgot her train. It caught in the window, the tower tottered, leaned forward, fell with crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins. universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck and golden head emerged, exclaiming, I told you so! told you so! With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with hasty aside Dont laugh! Act as if it was all right! and, ordering Roderigo up, banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall from the tower upon him, Roderigo defied the old gentleman and refused to stir. This dauntless example fired Zara. She also defied her sire, and he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. stout little retainer came in with chains and led them away, looking very much frightened and evidently forgetting the speech he ought to have made. Act third was the castle hall, and here Hagar appeared, having come to free the lovers and finish Hugo. She hears him coming and hides, sees him put the potions into two cups of wine and bid the timid little servant, Bear them to the captives in their cells, and tell them shall come anon. The servant takes Hugo aside to tell him something, and Hagar changes the cups for two others which are harmless. Ferdinando, the minion, carries them away, and Hagar puts back the cup which holds the poison meant for Roderigo. Hugo, getting thirsty after long warble, drinks it, loses his wits, and after good deal of clutching and stamping, falls flat and dies, while Hagar informs him what she has done in song of exquisite power and melody. This was truly thrilling scene, though some persons might have thought that the sudden tumbling down of quantity of long red hair rather marred the effect of the villain death. He was called before the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar, whose singing was considered more wonderful than all the rest of the performance put together. Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point of stabbing himself because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, lovely song is sung under his window, informing him that Zara is true but in danger, and he can save her if he will. key is thrown in, which unlocks the door, and in spasm of rapture he tears off his chains and rushes away to find and rescue his lady love. Act fifth opened with stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into convent, but she wont hear of it, and after touching appeal, is about to faint when Roderigo dashes in and demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich. They shout and gesticulate tremendously but cannot agree, and Rodrigo is about to bear away the exhausted Zara, when the timid servant enters with letter and bag from Hagar, who has mysteriously disappeared. The latter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth to the young pair and an awful doom to Don Pedro, if he doesnt make them happy. The bag is opened, and several quarts of tin money shower down upon the stage till it is quite glorified with the glitter. This entirely softens the stern sire. He consents without murmur, all join in joyful chorus, and the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro blessing in attitudes of the most romantic grace. Tumultuous applause followed but received an unexpected check, for the cot bed, on which the dress circle was built, suddenly shut up and extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and Don Pedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though many were speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsided when Hannah appeared, with Mrs. March compliments, and would the ladies walk down to supper. This was surprise even to the actors, and when they saw the table, they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It was like Marmee to get up little treat for them, but anything so fine as this was unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There was ice cream, actually two dishes of it, pink and white, and cake and fruit and distracting French bonbons and, in the middle of the table, four great bouquets of hot house flowers. It quite took their breath away, and they stared first at the table and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed it immensely. Is it fairies? asked Amy. Santa Claus, said Beth. Mother did it. And Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of her gray beard and white eyebrows. Aunt March had good fit and sent the supper, cried Jo, with sudden inspiration. All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it, replied Mrs. March. The Laurence boy grandfather! What in the world put such thing into his head? We dont know him! exclaimed Meg. Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party. He is an odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my father years ago, and he sent me polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them few trifles in honor of the day. could not refuse, and so you have little feast at night to make up for the bread-and-milk breakfast. That boy put it into his head, know he did! He capital fellow, and wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if hed like to know us but he bashful, and Meg is so prim she wont let me speak to him when we pass, said Jo, as the plates went round, and the ice began to melt out of sight, with ohs and ahs of satisfaction. You mean the people who live in the big house next door, dont you? asked one of the girls. My mother knows old Mr. Laurence, but says he very proud and doesnt like to mix with his neighbors. He keeps his grandson shut up, when he isnt riding or walking with his tutor, and makes him study very hard. We invited him to our party, but he didnt come. Mother says he very nice, though he never speaks to us girls. Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and we talked over the fence, and were getting on capitally, all about cricket, and so on, when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. mean to know him some day, for he needs fun, Im sure he does, said Jo decidedly. I like his manners, and he looks like little gentleman, so Ive no objection to your knowing him, if proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself, and should have asked him in, if had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistful as he went away, hearing the frolic and evidently having none of his own. It mercy you didnt, Mother! laughed Jo, looking at her boots. But well have another play sometime that he can see. Perhaps hell help act. Wouldnt that be jolly? I never had such fine bouquet before! How pretty it is! And Meg examined her flowers with great interest. They are lovely. But Beth roses are sweeter to me, said Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt. Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, I wish could send my bunch to Father. Im afraid he isnt having such merry Christmas as we are. Chapter 3 The Laurence Boy Jo! Jo! Where are you? cried Meg at the foot of the garret stairs. Here! answered husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo favorite refuge, and here she loved to retire with half dozen russets and nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of pet rat who lived near by and didnt mind her particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the news. Such fun! Only see! regular note of invitation from Mrs. Gardiner for tomorrow night! cried Meg, waving the precious paper and then proceeding to read it with girlish delight. \Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at little dance on New Year Eve. Marmee is willing we should go, now what shall we wear? What the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins, because we havent got anything else? answered Jo with her mouth full. If only had silk! sighed Meg. Mother says may when Im eighteen perhaps, but two years is an everlasting time to wait. Im sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us. Yours is as good as new, but forgot the burn and the tear in mine. Whatever shall do? The burn shows badly, and cant take any out. You must sit still all you can and keep your back out of sight. The front is all right. shall have new ribbon for my hair, and Marmee will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers are lovely, and my gloves will do, though they arent as nice as Id like. Mine are spoiled with lemonade, and cant get any new ones, so shall have to go without, said Jo, who never troubled herself much about dress. You must have gloves, or wont go, cried Meg decidedly. Gloves are more important than anything else. You cant dance without them, and if you dont should be so mortified. Then Ill stay still. dont care much for company dancing. It no fun to go sailing round. like to fly about and cut capers. You cant ask Mother for new ones, they are so expensive, and you are so careless. She said when you spoiled the others that she shouldnt get you any more this winter. Cant you make them do? I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will know how stained they are. That all can do. No! Ill tell you how we can manage, each wear one good one and carry bad one. Dont you see? Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glove dreadfully, began Meg, whose gloves were tender point with her. Then Ill go without. dont care what people say! cried Jo, taking up her book. You may have it, you may! Only dont stain it, and do behave nicely. Dont put your hands behind you, or stare, or say Christopher Columbus! will you? Dont worry about me. Ill be as prim as can and not get into any scrapes, if can help it. Now go and answer your note, and let me finish this splendid story. So Meg went away to accept with thanks, look over her dress, and sing blithely as she did up her one real lace frill, while Jo finished her story, her four apples, and had game of romps with Scrabble. On New Year Eve the parlor was deserted, for the two younger girls played dressing maids and the two elder were absorbed in the all-important business of getting ready for the party. Simple as the toilets were, there was great deal of running up and down, laughing and talking, and at one time strong smell of burned hair pervaded the house. Meg wanted few curls about her face, and Jo undertook to pinch the papered locks with pair of hot tongs. Ought they to smoke like that? asked Beth from her perch on the bed. It the dampness drying, replied Jo. What queer smell! It like burned feathers, observed Amy, smoothing her own pretty curls with superior air. There, now Ill take off the papers and youll see cloud of little ringlets, said Jo, putting down the tongs. She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared, for the hair came with the papers, and the horrified hairdresser laid row of little scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim. Oh, oh, oh! What have you done? Im spoiled! cant go! My hair, oh, my hair! wailed Meg, looking with despair at the uneven frizzle on her forehead. Just my luck! You shouldnt have asked me to do it. always spoil everything. Im so sorry, but the tongs were too hot, and so Ive made mess, groaned poor Jo, regarding the little black pancakes with tears of regret. It isnt spoiled. Just frizzle it, and tie your ribbon so the ends come on your forehead bit, and it will look like the last fashion. Ive seen many girls do it so, said Amy consolingly. Serves me right for trying to be fine. wish Id let my hair alone, cried Meg petulantly. So do I, it was so smooth and pretty. But it will soon grow out again, said Beth, coming to kiss and comfort the shorn sheep. After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, and by the united exertions of the entire family Jo hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits, Meg in silvery drab, with blue velvet snood, lace frills, and the pearl pin. Jo in maroon, with stiff, gentlemanly linen collar, and white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament. Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, and all pronounced the effect quite easy and fine. Meg high-heeled slippers were very tight and hurt her, though she would not own it, and Jo nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable, but, dear me, let us be elegant or die. Have good time, dearies! said Mrs. March, as the sisters went daintily down the walk. Dont eat much supper, and come away at eleven when send Hannah for you. As the gate clashed behind them, voice cried from window Girls, girls! Have you you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs? Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers, cried Jo, adding with laugh as they went on, I do believe Marmee would ask that if we were all running away from an earthquake. It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for real lady is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief, replied Meg, who had good many little aristocratic tastes of her own. Now dont forget to keep the bad breadth out of sight, Jo. Is my sash right? And does my hair look very bad? said Meg, as she turned from the glass in Mrs. Gardiner dressing room after prolonged prink. I know shall forget. If you see me doing anything wrong, just remind me by wink, will you? returned Jo, giving her collar twitch and her head hasty brush. No, winking isnt ladylike. Ill lift my eyebrows if any thing is wrong, and nod if you are all right. Now hold your shoulder straight, and take short steps, and dont shake hands if you are introduced to anyone. It isnt the thing. How do you learn all the proper ways? never can. Isnt that music gay? Down they went, feeling trifle timid, for they seldom went to parties, and informal as this little gathering was, it was an event to them. Mrs. Gardiner, stately old lady, greeted them kindly and handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters. Meg knew Sallie and was at her ease very soon, but Jo, who didnt care much for girls or girlish gossip, stood about, with her back carefully against the wall, and felt as much out of place as colt in flower garden. Half dozen jovial lads were talking about skates in another part of the room, and she longed to go and join them, for skating was one of the joys of her life. She telegraphed her wish to Meg, but the eyebrows went up so alarmingly that she dared not stir. No one came to talk to her, and one by one the group dwindled away till she was left alone. She could not roam about and amuse herself, for the burned breadth would show, so she stared at people rather forlornly till the dancing began. Meg was asked at once, and the tight slippers tripped about so briskly that none would have guessed the pain their wearer suffered smilingly. Jo saw big red headed youth approaching her corner, and fearing he meant to engage her, she slipped into curtained recess, intending to peep and enjoy herself in peace. Unfortunately, another bashful person had chosen the same refuge, for, as the curtain fell behind her, she found herself face to face with the Laurence boy. Dear me, didnt know anyone was here! stammered Jo, preparing to back out as speedily as she had bounced in. But the boy laughed and said pleasantly, though he looked little startled, Dont mind me, stay if you like. Shant disturb you? Not bit. only came here because dont know many people and felt rather strange at first, you know. So did I. Dont go away, please, unless youd rather. The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps, till Jo said, trying to be polite and easy, I think Ive had the pleasure of seeing you before. You live near us, dont you? Next door. And he looked up and laughed outright, for Jo prim manner was rather funny when he remembered how they had chatted about cricket when he brought the cat home. That put Jo at her ease and she laughed too, as she said, in her heartiest way, We did have such good time over your nice Christmas present. Grandpa sent it. But you put it into his head, didnt you, now? How is your cat, Miss March? asked the boy, trying to look sober while his black eyes shone with fun. Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence. But am not Miss March, Im only Jo, returned the young lady. Im not Mr. Laurence, Im only Laurie. Laurie Laurence, what an odd name. My first name is Theodore, but dont like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so made them say Laurie instead. I hate my name, too, so sentimental! wish every one would say Jo instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora? I thrashed em. I cant thrash Aunt March, so suppose shall have to bear it. And Jo resigned herself with sigh. Dont you like to dance, Miss Jo? asked Laurie, looking as if he thought the name suited her. I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and everyone is lively. In place like this Im sure to upset something, tread on people toes, or do something dreadful, so keep out of mischief and let Meg sail about. Dont you dance? Sometimes. You see Ive been abroad good many years, and havent been into company enough yet to know how you do things here. Abroad! cried Jo. Oh, tell me about it! love dearly to hear people describe their travels. Laurie didnt seem to know where to begin, but Jo eager questions soon set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vevay, where the boys never wore hats and had fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers. Dont wish Id been there! cried Jo. Did you go to Paris? We spent last winter there. Can you talk French? We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevay. Do say some! can read it, but cant pronounce. Quel nom cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis? How nicely you do it! Let me see you said, Who is the young lady in the pretty slippers, didnt you? Oui, mademoiselle. It my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is pretty? Yes, she makes me think of the German girls, she looks so fresh and quiet, and dances like lady. Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, and stored it up to repeat to Meg. Both peeped and critisized and chatted till they felt like old acquaintances. Laurie bashfulness soon wore off, for Jo gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him at his ease, and Jo was her merry self again, because her dress was forgotten and nobody lifted their eyebrows at her. She liked the Laurence boy better than ever and took several good looks at him, so that she might describe him to the girls, for they had no brothers, very few male cousins, and boys were almost unknown creatures to them. Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes, handsome nose, fine teeth, small hands and feet, taller than am, very polite, for boy, and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is? It was on the tip of Jo tongue to ask, but she checked herself in time and, with unusual tact, tried to find out in round-about way. I suppose you are going to college soon? see you pegging away at your books, no, mean studying hard. And Jo blushed at the dreadful pegging which had escaped her. Laurie smiled but didnt seem shocked, and answered with shrug. Not for year or two. wont go before seventeen, anyway. Arent you but fifteen? asked Jo, looking at the tall lad, whom she had imagined seventeen already. Sixteen, next month. How wish was going to college! You dont look as if you liked it. I hate it! Nothing but grinding or skylarking. And dont like the way fellows do either, in this country. What do you like? To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way. Jo wanted very much to ask what his own way was, but his black brows looked rather threatening as he knit them, so she changed the subject by saying, as her foot kept time, That splendid polka! Why dont you go and try it? If you will come too, he answered, with gallant little bow. I cant, for told Meg wouldnt, because There Jo stopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh. Because, what? You wont tell? Never! Well, have bad trick of standing before the fire, and so burn my frocks, and scorched this one, and though it nicely mended, it shows, and Meg told me to keep still so no one would see it. You may laugh, if you want to. It is funny, know. But Laurie didnt laugh. He only looked down minute, and the expression of his face puzzled Jo when he said very gently, Never mind that. Ill tell you how we can manage. There long hall out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us. Please come. Jo thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloves when she saw the nice, pearl-colored ones her partner wore. The hall was empty, and they had grand polka, for Laurie danced well, and taught her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full of swing and spring. When the music stopped, they sat down on the stairs to get their breath, and Laurie was in the midst of an account of students festival at Heidelberg when Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her into side room, where she found her on sofa, holding her foot, and looking pale. Ive sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel turned and gave me sad wrench. It aches so, can hardly stand, and dont know how Im ever going to get home, she said, rocking to and fro in pain. I knew youd hurt your feet with those silly shoes. Im sorry. But dont see what you can do, except get carriage, or stay here all night, answered Jo, softly rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke. I cant have carriage without its costing ever so much. dare say cant get one at all, for most people come in their own, and it long way to the stable, and no one to send. Ill go. No, indeed! It past nine, and dark as Egypt. cant stop here, for the house is full. Sallie has some girls staying with her. Ill rest till Hannah comes, and then do the best can. Ill ask Laurie. He will go, said Jo, looking relieved as the idea occurred to her. Mercy, no! Dont ask or tell anyone. Get me my rubbers, and put these slippers with our things. cant dance anymore, but as soon as supper is over, watch for Hannah and tell me the minute she comes. They are going out to supper now. Ill stay with you. Id rather. No, dear, run along, and bring me some coffee. Im so tired cant stir. So Meg reclined, with rubbers well hidden, and Jo went blundering away to the dining room, which she found after going into china closet, and opening the door of room where old Mr. Gardiner was taking little private refreshment. Making dart at the table, she secured the coffee, which she immediately spilled, thereby making the front of her dress as bad as the back. Oh, dear, what blunderbuss am! exclaimed Jo, finishing Meg glove by scrubbing her gown with it. Can help you? said friendly voice. And there was Laurie, with full cup in one hand and plate of ice in the other. I was trying to get something for Meg, who is very tired, and someone shook me, and here am in nice state, answered Jo, glancing dismally from the stained skirt to the coffee-colored glove. Too bad! was looking for someone to give this to. May take it to your sister? Oh, thank you! Ill show you where she is. dont offer to take it myself, for should only get into another scrape if did. Jo led the way, and as if used to waiting on ladies, Laurie drew up little table, brought second installment of coffee and ice for Jo, and was so obliging that even particular Meg pronounced him nice boy. They had merry time over the bonbons and mottoes, and were in the midst of quiet game of Buzz, with two or three other young people who had strayed in, when Hannah appeared. Meg forgot her foot and rose so quickly that she was forced to catch hold of Jo, with an exclamation of pain. Hush! Dont say anything, she whispered, adding aloud, It nothing. turned my foot little, that all, and limped upstairs to put her things on. Hannah scolded, Meg cried, and Jo was at her wits end, till she decided to take things into her own hands. Slipping out, she ran down and, finding servant, asked if he could get her carriage. It happened to be hired waiter who knew nothing about the neighborhood and Jo was looking round for help when Laurie, who had heard what she said, came up and offered his grandfather carriage, which had just come for him, he said. It so early! You cant mean to go yet? began Jo, looking relieved but hesitating to accept the offer. I always go early, do, truly! Please let me take you home. It all on my way, you know, and it rains, they say. That settled it, and telling him of Meg mishap, Jo gratefully accepted and rushed up to bring down the rest of the party. Hannah hated rain as much as cat does so she made no trouble, and they rolled away in the luxurious close carriage, feeling very festive and elegant. Laurie went on the box so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party in freedom. I had capital time. Did you? asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, and making herself comfortable. Yes, till hurt myself. Sallie friend, Annie Moffat, took fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend week with her when Sallie does. She is going in the spring when the opera comes, and it will be perfectly splendid, if Mother only lets me go, answered Meg, cheering up at the thought. I saw you dancing with the red headed man ran away from. Was he nice? Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red, and he was very polite, and had delicious redowa with him. He looked like grasshopper in fit when he did the new step. Laurie and couldnt help laughing. Did you hear us? No, but it was very rude. What were you about all that time, hidden away there? Jo told her adventures, and by the time she had finished they were at home. With many thanks, they said good night and crept in, hoping to disturb no one, but the instant their door creaked, two little nightcaps bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cr