Sleepy Audiobook Collection (With Rain)

A warm welcome to this 6-hour collection of sleepy audiobooks, accompanied by the soothing sound of rain on the window. This compilation includes chapters 1-8 of 'Little Women', 'Velveteen Rabbit' and 'Aladdin'! I hope to bring even more audiobook readings to you soon, and please let me know in the comments of stories you would like to hear, but I know how much people have been enjoying longer compilation tracks, so I thought I would offer this for you tonight.

Transcript

A warm welcome to this very sleepy bedtime story. Take a moment to get yourself nice and comfortable. Give yourself permission to let go of the day that has passed and embrace the night. This time is for you. Before we begin, We will do a short guided breathing pattern called 3-4-5. This will allow you to slow down and relax, Preparing your body and your mind for a wonderful, Peaceful rest. When you are ready, Breathe in through the nose for three. Hold for four. And breathe out for five. Let all of it go now. Again, That's in for three. Hold for 4. And release, Blowing away the thoughts of yesterday, Today and tomorrow. Again in for three. Home? And let it go. Continue to breathe in this way in your own time and with each breath out allow your body to sink just that bit deeper Allow your breath to fall back into a natural rhythm. Enjoy this new peace flowing through your body. And as you go deeper into relaxation, Let us begin tonight's story, The Velveteen Rabbit by Marjorie Williams. There was once a velveteen rabbit, And in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, As a rabbit should be. His coat was spotted brown and white. He had real thread whiskers and his ears were lined with pink sateen. On Christmas morning, When he sat wedged in the top of the boy's stocking, With a sprig of holly between his paws, The effect was charming. There were other things in the stocking, Nuts and oranges and a toy engine, And chocolate almonds and a clockwork mouse, But the rabbit was quite the best of all. For at least two hours the boy loved him, And then aunts and uncles came to dinner. There was a great rustling of tissue paper and unwrapping of parcels. And in the excitement of looking at all the new presents, The velveteen rabbit was forgotten. For a long time he lived in the toy cupboard or on the nursery floor and no one thought very much about him. He was naturally shy, And being only made of velveteen, Some of the more expensive toys quite snubbed him. The mechanical toys were very superior and looked down upon everyone else. They were full of modern ideas and pretended they were real. The model boat, Who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint, Caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity of referring to his rigging in technical terms. The rabbit could not claim to be a model of anything, For he didn't know that real rabbits existed. He thought they were all stuffed with sawdust like himself, And he understood that sawdust was quite out of date and should never be mentioned in modern circles. Even Timothy, The jointed wooden lion, Who was made by disabled soldiers and should have had broader views, Put on airs and pretended he was connected with government. Between them all, The poor little rabbit was made to feel himself very insignificant and commonplace. And the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse. The skin horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, And most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, For he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, And by and by break their mainsprings and pass away, And he knew that they were only toys and would never turn into anything else, For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, And only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the skin animals understand all about it. What is real? " asked the rabbit one day when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender before Nana came to tidy the room. Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle? Real isn't how you are made, " said the Skin Horse. It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, Long time. Not just to play with, But really loves you, Then you become real. Does it hurt? " asked the rabbit. Sometimes, Said the skin horse, For he was always truthful. When you are real, You don't mind being hurt. Does it happen all at once, Like being wound up? He asked. Or bit by bit. It doesn't happen all at once, " said the Skin Horse. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept Generally, By the time you are real, Most of your hair has been loved off, And your eyes drop out. And you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, Because once you are real, You can't be ugly, Except to people who don't understand. I suppose you are real, " said the rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, For he thought the skin horse might be sensitive. But the skin horse only smiles. The boy's uncle made me real, He said. That was a great many years ago, But once you are real, You can't become unreal again. It lasts for always. The rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic, Called real, Happened to him. He longed to become real. To know what it felt like. And yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him. There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she took no notice of the playthings lying about. And sometimes, For no reason whatever, She went swooping up like a great wind and hustled them away in cupboards. She called this tidying up, And the playthings all hated it, Especially the tin ones. The rabbit didn't mind it so much, For wherever he was thrown, He came down soft. One evening, When the boy was going to bed, He couldn't find the china dog that always slept with him. Nana was in a hurry, And it was too much trouble to hunt for china dogs at bedtime. So, She simply looked about her, And seeing that the toy cupboard door stood open, She made a swoop. Here, She said, Take your old bunny, He'll do to sleep with you. And she dragged the rabbit out by one ear and put him into the boy's arms. That night, And for many nights after, The Velveteen Rabbit slept in the boy's bed. At first he found it rather uncomfortable, For the boy hugged him very tight, And sometimes he pushed him so far under the pillow that the rabbit could scarcely breathe. And he missed, Too, Those long moonlight hours in the nursery when all the house was silent and his talks with the skinhorse. But very soon, He grew to like it, For the boy used to talk to him and made nice tunnels for him under the bedclothes that he said were like the burrows the real rabbits lived in. And they had splendid games together in whispers when Nana had gone away to her supper and left the nightlight burning on the mantelpiece. And when the boy dropped off to sleep, The rabbit would snuggle down close under his little warm chin and dream, With the boy's hands clasped close round him all night long. And so time went on and the little rabbit was very happy. So happy that he never noticed how his beautiful, Velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier. And his tail becoming unsewn, And all the pink rubbed off his nose where the boy had kissed him. Spring came and they had long days in the garden. For wherever the boy went, The rabbit went too. He had rides in the wheelbarrow and picnics on the grass. And lovely fairy huts built for him under the raspberry canes behind the flower border. And once, When the boy was called away suddenly to go out to tea, The rabbit was left out on the lawn until long after dusk. And Nana had to come and look for him with the candle, Because the boy couldn't go to sleep unless he was there. He was wet through with the dew, And quite earthy from diving into the burrows the boy had made for him in the flowerbed. And Nana grumbled as she rubbed him off with the corner of her apron. You must have your old bunny, " she said. Fancy all that fuss for a toy? The boy sat up in bed and stretched out his hands. Give me my bunny, He said. You mustn't say that, He isn't a toy, He's real When the little rabbit heard that, He was happy, For he knew that what the skinhorse had said was true at last. The nursery magic had happened to him, And he was a toy no longer. He was real. The boy himself had said it. That night, He was almost too happy to sleep, And so much love stirred in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst. And into his boot-button eyes, That had long ago lost their polish, There came a look of wisdom and beauty, So that even Nana noticed it next morning when she picked him up. And said, I declare if that old bunny hasn't got quite a knowing expression. That was a wonderful summer. Near the house where they lived was a wood, And in the long June evenings, The boy liked to go there after tea to play. He took the velveteen rabbit with him, And before he wandered off to pick flowers or play at brigands among the trees, He always made the rabbit a little nest somewhere among the bracken where he would be quite cozy. For he was a kind-hearted little boy, And he liked Bunny to be comfortable. One evening, While the rabbit was lying there alone, Watching the ants that ran to and fro between his velvet paws in the grass, He saw two strange beings creep out of the tall bracken near him. They were rabbits like himself, But quite furry and brand new. They must have been very well made, For their seams didn't show at all, And they changed shape in a queer way when they moved. One minute they were long and thin, And the next minute fat and bunchy, Instead of always staying the same like he did. Their feet padded softly on the ground, And they crept quite close to him, Twitching their noses, While the rabbit stared hard to see which side the clockwork stuck out. For he knew that people who jump generally have something to wind them up. But he couldn't see it. They were evidently a new kind of rabbit altogether. They stared at him. And the little rabbit stared back. And all the time their noses twitched. Why don't you get up and play with us? " one of them asked. I don't feel like it, " said the rabbit, For he didn't want to explain that he had no clockwork. Ho! Said the furry rabbit. It's as easy as anything. And he gave a big hop sideways and stood on his hind legs. I don't believe you can, He said. I can, " said the little rabbit, I can jump higher than anything. He meant when the boy threw him, But of course he didn't want to say so. Can you hop on your hind legs? Asked the furry rabbit. That was a dreadful question, For the Velveteen Rabbit had no hind legs at all. The back of him was made all in one piece, Like a pin cushion. He sat still in the bracken and hoped the other rabbits wouldn't notice. I don't want to, He said again. But wild rabbits have very sharp eyes, And this one stretched out his neck and looked. He hasn't got any hind legs, He called out. Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs, And he began to laugh. I have! " cried the little rabbit. I have got hind legs. I'm sitting on them. Then stretch them out and show me. Like this, " said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance till the little rabbit got quite dizzy. I don't like dancing, " he said. I'd rather sit still. All the while he was longing to dance. For a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, And he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did. The strange rabbit stopped dancing and came quite close. He came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed the velveteen rabbit's ear. And then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backwards. He doesn't smell right, He exclaimed. He isn't a rabbit at all. He isn't real. I am real, " said the little rabbit. I am real, The boy said so, And he nearly began to cry. Just then, There was the sound of footsteps, And the boy ran past near them. And with a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails, The two strange rabbits disappeared. Come back and play with me, Called the little rabbit. Oh do come back, I know I'm real. But there was no answer. Only the little ants ran to and fro, And the bracken swayed gently where the two strangers had passed. The Velveteen Rabbit was all alone. Oh dear, He thought. Why did they run away like that? Why couldn't this stop and talk to me? For a long time he lay very still, Watching the bracken and hoping that they would come back. But they never returned, And presently the sun sank lower and the little white moths fluttered out. And the boy came back and carried him home Weeks passed, And the little rabbit grew very old and shabby. But the boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, And the pink lining to his ears turned gray, And his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, And he scarcely looked like a rabbit anymore. Except to the boy. To him, He was always beautiful, And that was all the little rabbit cared about. Didn't mind how he looked to other people, Because the nursery magic had made him real. And when you are real, Shabbiness doesn't matter. And then, One day, The boy was ill. His face grew very flushed and he talked in his sleep, And his little body was so hot that it burned the rabbit when he held him close. Strange people came and went in the nursery, And a light burned all night. And through it all, The little velveteen rabbit lay there, Hidden from sight under the bedclothes. And he never stirred, For he was afraid that if they found him, Someone might take him away, And he knew that the boy needed him. It was a long, Weary time, For the boy was too ill to play, And the little rabbit found it rather dull with nothing to do all day long. But he snuggled down patiently and looked forward to the time when the boy should be well again. And they would go out in the garden amongst the flowers and the butterflies and play splendid games in the raspberry thicket like they used to. All sorts of delightful things he planned, And while the boy lay half asleep, He crept up close to the pillow and whispered them in his ear. And presently, The fever turned and the boy got better. Was able to sit up in bed and look at picture books while the rabbit cuddled close at his side. And one day they let him get up and dress. It was a bright, Sunny morning, And the windows stood wide open. They had carried the boy out onto the balcony, Wrapped in a shawl, And the little rabbit lay tangled up among the bedclothes, Thinking. The boy was to go to the seaside tomorrow. Everything was arranged and now all that remained was to carry out the doctor's orders. They talked about it all while the little rabbit lay under the bedclothes, With just his head peeping out and listened. The room was to be disinfected and all the books and toys that the boy had played with in bed must be burnt. Hurrah! Thought the little rabbit. Tomorrow we shall go to the seaside. For the boy had often talked of the seaside, And he wanted very much to see the big waves coming in. The tiny crabs in the sandcastles. Just then, Nana caught sight of him. How about his old bunny? She asked. That, Said the doctor, Why it's a mass of scarlet fever germs. Burn it at once. What nonsense! Get him a new one. He mustn't have that anymore. And so the little rabbit was put into a sack with the old picture books and a lot of rubbish, And carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl house. That was a fine place to make a bonfire, Only the gardener was too busy just then to attend to it. He had the potatoes to dig and the green peas to gather, But next morning he promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot. That night, The boy slept in a different bedroom, And he had a new bunny to sleep with him. It was a splendid bunny, All white plush with real glass eyes, But the boy was too excited to care very much about it, For tomorrow he was going to the seaside. And that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else. And while the boy was asleep, Dreaming of the seaside, The little rabbit lay among the old picture books in the corner behind the foul house, And he felt very lonely. The sack had been left untied, And so, By wriggling a bit, He was able to get his head through the opening and look out. He was shivering a little, For he had always been used to sleeping in a proper bed. And by this time his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from hugging that it was no longer any protection to him. Nearby, He could see the thicket of raspberry canes, Growing tall and close like a tropical jungle, In whose shadow he had played with the boy on bygone mornings. He thought of those long, Sunlit hours in the garden, How happy they were, And a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass before him, Each more beautiful than the other. The fairy huts in the flowerbed, The quiet evenings in the wood where he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws, The wonderful day when he first knew he was real, He thought of the skin horse, So wise and gentle, And all that he had told him. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become real if it all ended like this? And a tear, A real tear, Trickled down his shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground. And then a strange thing happened. For where the tear had fallen, A flower grew out of the ground. A mysterious flower, Not at all like any that grew in the garden. It had slender green leaves, The color of emeralds, And in the center of the leaves, A blossom like a golden cup. It was so beautiful that the little rabbit forgot to cry and just lay there watching it. And presently the blossom opened, And out of it there stepped a fairy. She was quite the loveliest fairy in the whole world. Her dress was of pearl and dewdrops. There were flowers around her neck. And in her head. And her face was like the most perfect flower of all. She came close to the little rabbit and gathered him up in her arms, And kissed him on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying. Little rabbit, " she said. Do you know who I am? The rabbit looked up at her. And it seemed to him that he had seen her face before, But he couldn't think where. I am the nursery magic fairy, " she said. I take care of all the playthings that the children have loved. When they are old and worn out and the children don't need them anymore, Then I come and take them away with me and turn them into real Wasn't I real before? You were real to the boy, The fairy said, Because he loved you. Now, You shall be real to everyone. And she held the little rabbit close in her arms and flew with him into the wood. It was light now, For the moon had risen. All the forest was beautiful, And the fronds of the bracken shone like frosted silver. In the open glade between the tree trunks, The wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass. But when they saw the fairy, They all stopped and stood round in a ring to stare at her. I've brought you a new playfellow, " the fairy said. You must be very kind to him and teach him all he needs to know in Rabbit Land, For he is going to live with you forever and ever. She kissed the rabbit again and put him down on the grass. Run and play, Little rabbit, " she said. But the little rabbit sat quite still for a moment, And never moved. For when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him, He suddenly remembered about his hind legs, And he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece. He did not know that when the fairy kissed him that last time, She had changed him altogether. And he might have sat there a long time, Too shy to move, If just then something hadn't tickled his nose. And before he thought what he was doing, He lifted his hind toe to scratch it. And he found that he actually had hind legs. Instead of dingy velveteen, He had brown fur. Soft and shiny. His ears twitched by themselves, And his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass. He gave one leap. And the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them, Jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did. And he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the fairy, She had gone. He was a real rabbit at last, At home with the other rabbits. Autumn passed and winter, And in the spring, When the days grew warm and sunny, The boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, Two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over. But the other had strange markings under his fur, As though long ago he had been spotted and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes, There was something familiar. And the boy thought to himself, Why, He looks just like my old bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever. He never knew that it really was his own bunny. Come back to look at the boy who had first helped him to be real. Let us begin our tale of little women. Chapter 1 Playing Pilgrims Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents, " grumbled Joe, Lying on the rug. It's so dreadful to be poor, " sighed Meg, Looking down at her old dress. I don't think it's fair for some girls to have lots of pretty things and other girls nothing at all, " added little Amy with an injured sniff. We've got father and mother and each other anyhow, " said Beth contentedly from her corner. The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, But darkened again, As Joe said sadly. We haven't got father and shall not have him for a long time She didn't say, Perhaps, Never, But each silently added it, Thinking of father far away, Where the fighting was. Nobody spoke for a minute. Then Meg said in an altered tone, You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it's going to be a 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 can't do much, But we can make our little sacrifices and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't. And Meg shook her head as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted. But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've each got a dollar, And the army wouldn't be much helped by our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from Mother or you, But I do want to buy Undine and Syntrum for myself. I've wanted it so long, " said Joe, Who was a bookworm. I planned to spend mine in new music, " said Beth, With a little sigh, Which no one heard but the hearth brush and kettle holder. I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils. I really need them, " said Amy decidedly. Mother didn't say anything about our money, And she won't wish us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want and have a little fun. I'm sure we grub hard enough to earn it, " cried Jo, Examining the heels of her boots in a gentlemanly manner. I know I do. Teaching those dreadful children nearly all day when I'm longing to enjoy myself at home, " began Meg in the complaining tone again. You don't have half such a hard time as I do, " said Joe. How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, Fussy old lady who keeps you trotting, Is never satisfied, And worries you till you're ready to fly out of the window or box her ears? It's naughty to fret, But I 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. I can't practice good a bit. And Beth looked at her rough hands with a sigh that anyone could hear that time. I don't believe you suffer as I do, " cried Amy, For you don't have to go to school with impertinent girls who plague you if you don't know your lessons and laugh at your dresses. And label your father if he isn't rich. And insult you when your nose isn't nice. If you mean libel, I'd say so, And not talk about labels as if par was a pickle bottle, " advised Joe, Laughing. I know what I mean, And you needn't be satirical about it. It's proper to use good words and improve your vocabulary, " returned Amy with dignity. Don't peck at one another, Children. Don't you wish we had the money Papa lost when we were little, Joe? " Dear me, How happy and good we'd be if we had no worries, " said Meg, Who could remember better times. You said the other day you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, For they were fighting and fretting all the time, In spite of their money. So I did, Beth. Well, I guess we are, For though we do have to work, We make fun for ourselves, And are a pretty jolly set, As joe would say Joe does use such slang words, Observed Amy, With a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, Put her hands in her apron pockets and began to whistle. Don't Joe, It's so boyish. That's why I do it. I detest rude unladylike girls and I hate affected niminy-piminy chits. " Birds in their little nest agree, Sang Beth, The peacemaker, With such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a 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 behave better, Josephine. It didn't matter so much when you were a little girl, But now you are so tall and turn up your hair, You should remember that you are a young lady. I ain't, And if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty, " cried Jo, Pulling off her net and shaking down a chestnut mane. I hate to think I've got to grow up and be Miss March, And wear long gowns and look as prim as a china aster. It's bad enough to be a girl anyway, When I like boys' games and work and manners. I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy. And it's worse than ever now, For I'm dying to go and fight with Papa, And I can only stay at home and knit like a pokey old woman. And Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets and her ball bounded across the room. Poor Joe. It's too bad. But it can't 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 at her knee, With a hand that all the dishwashing 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 ears are funny now, But you'll grow up an affected little goose if you don't take care. I like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking when you don't try to be elegant. But your absurd words are as bad as Joe's slang. If Joe is a tomboy and Amy is a goose, What am I, Please? Asked Beth, Ready to share the lecture. You're a 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 a 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 a comfortable old room, Though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain, For a good picture or two hung on the walls. Books filled the recesses, Chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, And a 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, A 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 a colt, For she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, Which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, A comical nose, And sharp, Grey 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 a net to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, Big hands and feet, A fly-away look to her clothes, And the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman. And didn't like it. Elizabeth, Or Beth as everyone called her, Was a rosy, Smooth-haired, Bright-eyed girl of thirteen, With a shy manner, A timid voice, And a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her Little Tranquility, And the name suited her excellently, For she seemed to live in a happy world of her own. Only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, Though the youngest, Was a most important person – in her own opinion, At least. A regular snow maiden, With blue eyes and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, Pale and slender. And always carrying herself like a 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 a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls, For mother was coming and everyone brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing and lit 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, Mommy must have a new pair I thought I'd get her some with my dollar, " said Beth. Now I shall, Cried Amy. I'm the oldest, " began Meg, But Joe cut in with a decided, I'm the man of the family now Papa is away, And I shall provide the slippers, For he told me to take special care of Mother while he was gone. I'll tell you what we'll do said Beth. Let's each get her something for Christmas and not get anything for ourselves. That's like you dear. What will we get? Exclaimed Joe. Everyone thought soberly for a minute, Then Meg announced, As if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, I shall give her a nice pair of gloves. Army shoes, Best to be had, Cried Joe. Some handkerchiefs all hemmed, " said Beth. I'll get a little bottle of cologne. She likes it, And it won't cost much, So I'll have some left to buy something for me, " added Amy. How will we give the things? " asked Meg. Put him on the table and bring her in and see her open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do it on our birthdays? " answered Joe. I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair with a crown on, And see you all come marching round to give the presents with a kiss. I liked the things and the kisses, But it was dreadful to have you sit looking at me while I opened the bundles, " said Beth, Who was toasting her face and the bread for tea at the same time. Let Mami think we are getting things for ourselves and then surprise her. We must go shopping tomorrow afternoon, Meg. There is lots 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 don't mean to act anymore after this time. I'm getting too old for such things, " observed Meg, Who was as much a child as ever about dressing up frolics. You won't stop, I know, As long as you can trail round in a white gown with your hair down and wear gold paper jewelry. You are the best actress we've got, And there'll be an end of everything if you quit the boards, " said Joe. We ought to rehearse tonight Come here, Amy, And do the fainting scene, For you are as stiff as a poker in that. I can't help it, I never saw anyone faint. And I don't choose to make myself all black and blue, Tumbling flat as you do. If I can go down easily, I'll drop. If I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful. I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a 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 hero of the peace. Do it this way. Clasp your hands, So, And stagger across the room crying frantically. Rodrigo, Save me, Save me! And away went Joe, With a 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. Joe gave a despairing groan, And Meg laughed outright, While Beth let her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest. It's no use. Do the best you can when the time comes. And if the audience shout, Don't blame me. Come on Meg. Then things went smoothly, For Don Pedro defied the world in a speech of two pages without a single break. Hagar the Witch. Chanted an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toes with weird effects. Rodrigo rent his chains asunder manfully. Hugo died in agonies of remorse and arsenic with a wild ha-ha. It's the best we've had yet, " said Meg, As the dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows. I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Joe. You're a regular Shakespeare! " exclaimed Beth, Who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things. Not quite, Replied Joe modestly. I do think the witch's curse and operatic tragedy is rather a nice thing. But I'd like to try Macbeth. If we only had a trapdoor for Banquo. I always wanted to do the killing part. Is that a dagger that I see before me? " muttered Jo, Rolling her eyes and clutching the air, As she had seen a famous tragedian do. No, It's the toasting fork, With Ma's shoe on it instead of the bread. Beth's stage struck, Cried Max. And the rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter. Glad to find you so merry, My girls, " said a cheery voice at the door. An actors and audience turned to welcome a stout, Motherly lady. With her, Can I help you look about her? " which was truly delightful. She wasn't a particularly handsome person, But mothers are always lovely to their children. And the girls thought the grey cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the most splendid woman 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 I didn't come home to dinner. Has anyone called Beth? How is your cold, Meg? Joe, You look tired to death Come and kiss me, Baby. While making these maternal inquiries, Mrs. March got her wet things off, Her hot slippers on. And sitting down in the easy chair, Drew Amy into 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 the chairs, Dropping, Overturning, And clattering everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor and 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 sat with a particularly happy face. I've got a treat for you after supper Her quick, Bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth clapped her hands, Regardless of the hot biscuit she held. And Jo tossed up her napkin, Crying, A letter, A letter, Three cheers for father. Yes, A 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 then a special message to you girls, " said Mrs. March, Patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there. Hurry up and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger and prink over your plate, Amy! " cried Jo, Choking in 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 until the others were ready. I think it was so splendid in father to go as a chaplain when he was too old to be drafted, And not strong enough for a soldier, " said Meg warmly. Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, A vivan, What's its name, Or a nurse, So I could be near him and help him! " exclaimed Joe with a groan. It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent and eat all sorts of bad-tasting things and drink out of a tin mug, " sighed Amy. When will he come home, Mommy? " asked Beth, With a 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 won't ask for him back a 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 Joe 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 a cheerful, Hopeful letter, Full of lively descriptions of camp life, Marches, And military news. And only at the end did the writer's heart overflow with fatherly love and longing for the little girls at home. Give them all my dear love and a kiss. Tell them I think of them by day, Pray for them by night, And find my best comfort in their affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see them, But remind them that while we wait, We may all work, So that these hard days need not be wasted I know they will remember all I 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 I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women. " Everybody sniffed when they came to that part. Jo wasn't ashamed of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose. And Amy never minded the rumbling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's shoulder and sobbed out, I am a selfish pig, But I'll truly try to be better so he mayn't be disappointed in me, By and by. We all will, " cried Mac. I think too much of my looks and hate to work with them. But won't anymore if I can help it. I'll 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 a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down south. Beth said nothing, But wiped away her tears with the blue army socks. 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 Joe's words by saying in her cheery voice, Nothing delighted you more than to have me tie my peace 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. You had all the lovely things you could collect to make a celestial city. What fun it was, Especially going by the lions fighting Apollyon. And passing through the valley where the hobgoblins were, " said Joe. I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs, " said Meg. My favorite part was when we came out on the flat roof where our flowers and arbors and pretty things were, And all stood and sung for joy up there in the sunshine, " said Beth, Smiling, As if that pleasant moment had come back to her. I don't remember much about it, Except that I was afraid of the cellar and the dark entry. And always liked the cake and milk we had at the top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it over again, " said Amy, Who began to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve. We are never too old for this, My dear, Because it is a 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 a 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 a very literal young lady. Each of you told what your burden was just now except Beth. I rather think she hasn't got any, " said her mother. Yes, I have. Mine is dishes and dusters. And envying girls with nice pianos. And being afraid of people. Beth's bundle was such a 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's hard work, And we forget and don't do our best. We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, And Mother came and pulled us out, As helped did in the book. We ought to have our role of directions, Like Christians. What should we do about that? Asked Joe. Delighted with the fancy which lent a 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 workbaskets, And the needles flew as the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, But tonight no one grumbled they adopted Joe's 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 sung, As usual, Before they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano. But she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sung. Meg had a voice like a flute. And she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket. And Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, Always coming out at the wrong place with a crook or a quaver that spoiled the most pensive tunes. They had always done this from the time they could lisp, Crinkle, Crinkle, Ittle, Tar, And it had become a household custom, For the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice as she went about the house singing like a 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 a Merry Christmas. Joe was the first to wake in the grey dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace. And for a moment, She felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, When her little sock fell down because it was so crammed with goodies. Then she remembered her mother's promise, And slipping her hand under her pillow, Drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, For it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived. And Joe felt that it was a true guidebook for any pilgrim going the long journey. She woke Meg with a Merry Christmas and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared, With the same picture inside, And a 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 dove-coloured, 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 a 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 I shall keep my book on the table here, And read a little every morning as soon as I wake. " for I 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 around her, And, Leaning cheek to cheek, Read also, With a quiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face. How good Meg is. Come Amy, Let's do as they do. I'll help you with the hard words, And they'll explain things if we don't understand, " whispered Beth, Very much impressed by the pretty books and her sister's example. I'm 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 a Christmas greeting. Where is mother? " asked Meg, As she and Joe ran down to thank her for their gifts half an hour later. Goodness only knows, Some poor creature came a-begging and your Ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never was such a woman for giving 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 of a friend than a servant. She will be back soon, I guess. So do your cakes and have everything ready, " said Meg, Looking over the presents, Which were collected in a basket and kept under the sofa. Ready to be produced at the proper time. Why, Where is Amy's bottle of cologne? " she added, As the little flask did not appear. She took it out a minute ago, And went off with it to put a ribbon on it, Or some such notion, " replied Joe, Dancing about the room to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers. How nice my handkerchiefs look, Don't they? Hannah washed and ironed them for me, And I marked them all myself, " said Beth, Looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters, Which had cost her such labor. Bless the child, She's gone and put Mother on them instead of M. March. How funny, " cried Joe, Taking up one. Isn't it right? I thought it was better to do it so, Because Meg's initials are MM. And I don't want anyone to use these but mommy, " said Beth, Looking troubled. It's alright dear, And a very pretty idea. Quite sensible too, For no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much, I know, " said Meg, With a frown for Joe and a smile for Beth. There's Mother! Hide the basket, Quick! " cried Joe, As the 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 Mech, Surprised to see by her hood and cloak that lazy Amy had been out so early. Don't laugh at me, Jo. I didn't mean anyone should know till the time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a big one. And I gave all my money to get it. And I'm truly trying not to be selfish anymore. 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, I felt ashamed of my present, After reading and talking about being good this morning So I ran round the corner and changed it the minute I was up. And I'm 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, Mommy. Lots of them. Thank you for our books. We read some and mean to every day. " They cried in chorus. Merry Christmas, Little Daughters I'm glad you began at once, And hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a 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 a Christmas present? They were all unusually hungry, Having waited nearly an hour. And for a minute no one spoke. Only a minute, For Joe exclaimed impetuously, I'm so glad you came before we began! May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children? " asked Beth eagerly. I shall take the cream and the muffins, " added Amy, Heroically giving up the articles she most liked. Meg was already covering the buckwheat and piling the bread into one big plate. I thought you'd 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 dinner time. " were soon ready, And the procession set out. Fortunately, It was early, And they went through the back streets, So few people saw them, And no one laughed at the funny party. A poor, Bare, Miserable room it was, With broken windows, No fire, Ragged bedclothes, A sick mother, Wailing baby, And a 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, Cried the poor woman, Crying for joy. Funny angels in hoods and mittens, Said Joe, And set them laughing. In a few minutes, It really did seem as if kind spirits had been at work there. Hannah, Who had carried wood, Made a fire. Stopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own shorts. 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! " Their angel 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 a Sancho ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast, Though they didn't get any of it. And when they went away, Leaving comfort behind, I 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's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, And I like it, " said Meg as they set out their presents, While their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels. Not a very splendid show, But there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles, And the tall vase of roses, White chrysanthemums, And trailing vines which stood in the middle gave quite an elegant air to the table. She's coming. Strike up, Beth. Open the door, Amy. Three cheers for Mommy! " cried Joe, 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. A new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket, Well-scented with Amy's cologne. The rose was fastened in her bosom. And the nice gloves were pronounced a perfect fit. There was a 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 theatre, 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 a pickle factory. And armor covered with the same useful diamond-shaped bits left in sheets when the lids of tin preserve pots were cut out. The furniture was used to being turned topsy-turvy. And the big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels. No gentlemen were admitted. So Jo played male parts to her heart's content. And took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet leather boots given her by a friend who knew a lady who knew an actor. These boots, An old foil, And a slashed doublet once used by an artist for some picture were Joe's 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 and harmless amusement. And employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, Lonely, Or spent in less profitable society. On Christmas night, A dozen girls piled on the bed, Which was the dress circle, And sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. Was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain. A trifle of lamp smoke, And an occasional giggle from Amy, Who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently, A bell sounded. The curtains flew apart. And the operatic tragedy began. A gloomy wood, According to the one playbill, Was represented by a few shrubs in pots, A green bays on the floor, And a cave in the distance. This cave was made with a clotheshorse for a roof, Bureaus for walls, And in it was a small furnace in full blast, With a black pot on it, And an old witch bending over it. The stage was dark. And the glow of the furnace had a fine effect. Especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside. Then Hugo, The villain, Stalked in with a clanking sword at his side. A slouched hat, Black beard. Mysterious cloak. And the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, He struck his forehead and burst out in a wild strain, Singing of his hatred for Rodrigo. Is love for Zara. And his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other. The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, With an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him, Were very impressive. 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 a commanding, What ho, Minion? I need thee. Out came Meg, With gray horsehair hanging about her face, A red and black robe, A staff. And Kabbalistic signs upon her cloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him. And one to destroy Rodrigo. Hagar, In a fine dramatic melody, Promised both. And proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love filter. Hither, Hither, From thy home, Airy sprite, I bid thee come. Born of roses, Fed on dew, Charms and potions canst thou brew. Bring me here with Elfin Speed, The fragrant filter which I need. Make it sweet and swift and strong. Spirit, Answer now my song. A soft strain of music sounded. And then, At the back of the cave, Appeared a little figure in cloudy white. With glittering wings, Golden hair, And a garland of roses on its head. Waving a wand, It sung, Hither I come from my airy home, Afar in the silver moon. Take the magic spell. Oh, Use it well, Or its power will vanish soon. And dropping a small, Gilded bottle at the witch's feet, The spirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition. Not a lovely one. For with a bang, An ugly imp appeared. And having croaked a reply, Tossed a dark bottle at Hugo, And disappeared with a 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 a 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. A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again. But when it became evident what a masterpiece of stage carpeting had been got up, No one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb. A tower rose to the ceiling. Halfway up appeared a window with a lamp burning at it. And behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, Waiting for Rodrigo. He came in gorgeous array. With plumed caps. Red cloak. Chestnut Love Locks a guitar, And the boots, Of course. Kneeling at the front of the tower, He sung a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied, And after a musical dialogue, Consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Rodrigo produced a rope ladder with five steps to it. Threw up one end. And invited Zahra to descend. Timidly, She crept from her lattice. Put her hand on Rodrigo's 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 a crash and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins. A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck. And a golden hat emerged exclaiming, I told you so, I told you so. With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro, The cruel sire, Rushed in. Dragged out his daughter with a hasty aside. Don't laugh, Act as if it was alright. And ordering Rodrigo up. Banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn. Though decidedly shaken by the fall of the tower upon him, Rodrigo 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. A 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 III 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 I 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 Rodrigo. Hugo, Getting thirsty after a long warble, Drinks it. Loses his wits, And after a good deal of clutching and stamping, Falls flat and dies. While Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisite power and melody. This was a truly thrilling scene, Though some persons might have thought that the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long hair rather marred the effect of the villain's 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 IV displayed the despairing Rodrigo on the point of stabbing himself, Because he has been told that Zara has deserted him. Just as the dagger is at his heart, A lovely song is sung under his window. Informing him that Zahra is true, But in danger, And he can save her if he will. A key is thrown in which unlocks the door. And in a spasm of rapture, He tears off his chains and rushes away to find and rescue his lady love. Act V opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro. He wishes her to go into a convent, But she won't hear of it and, After a touching appeal, Is about to faint when Rodrigo 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 a letter and a bag from Hagar, Who has mysteriously disappeared. The letter informs the party that she bequeaths untold wealth to the young pair, And an awful doom to Don Pedro if he doesn't 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 a murmur. All join in a joyful chorus. And the curtain falls upon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's 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. Rodrigo 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's compliments. And would the ladies walk down to supper? This was a surprise, Even to the actors. And when they saw the table, They looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It was like mommy to get up a 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 K. And fruit, And distracting French bonbons. And in the middle of the table, Four great bouquets of hothouse flowers. It quite took their breath away. And they stared first at the table, And then at their mother, Who looked as if she was enjoying it immensely. Is it fairies? " asked Amy. It's Santa Claus, Said Beth. Mother did it, And Meg smiled her sweetest, In spite of her grey beard and white eyebrows. Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper, Cried Joe, With sudden inspiration. All wrong. Old Mr Lawrence sent it, " replied Mrs March. The Lawrence boy's grandfather. What in the world put such a thing into his head? We don't 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 a polite note this afternoon, Saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day. I could not refuse, And so you have a little feast at night to make up for the bread and milk breakfast. " boy put it into his head. I know he did. He's a capital fellow, And I wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if he'd like to know us, But he's bashful. And Meg is so prim she won't let me speak to him when we pass, " said Joe as the plates went round, And the ice began to melt out of sight with oohs and ahhs of satisfaction. You mean the people who live in the big house next door, Don't you? " asked one of the girls. My mother knows old Mr. Lawrence, But says he's very proud and don't like to mix with his neighbours. He keeps his grandson shut up when he isn't riding or walking with his tutor and makes him study dreadfully hard. We invited him to our party, But he didn't come. Mother says he's 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. I mean to know him someday, For he needs fun, I'm sure he does, " said Joe decidedly. I like his manners, And he looks like a little gentleman, So I've no objection to your knowing him if a proper opportunity comes. He brought the flowers himself. And I should have asked him in if I 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's a mercy you didn't, Mother, " laughed Jo, Looking at her boots. But we'll have another play sometime that he can see. Maybe he'll help act Wouldn't that be jolly? I never had a bouquet before, How pretty it is. And Meg examined her flowers with great interest. They are lovely, But Beth's roses are sweeter to me, " said Mrs. March, Sniffing at the half-dead posy in her belt. Beth nestled up to her and whispered softly, I wish I could send my bunch to father. I'm afraid he isn't having such a merry Christmas as we are. Chapter 3 The Lawrence Boy. Joe Ciao. . . Where are you? " cried Meg, At the foot of the garret stairs. Here, Answered a husky voice from above. And running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the air of Redcliffe, Wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo's favorite refuge, And here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book. To enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived nearby and didn't mind her a 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. Gardener for tomorrow night, " cried Meg, Waving the precious paper, And then proceeding to read it with girlish delight. Mrs. Gardner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New Year's Eve. Mommy is willing we should go. Now what shall we wear? What's the use of asking that, When you know we shall wear our poplins, Because we haven't got anything else? " answered Jo, With her mouth full. If I only had a silk side meg. Mother says I may when I'm eighteen, Perhaps, But two years is an everlasting time to wait. I'm sure our pops look like silk. And they are nice enough for us Yours is as good as new, " said Joe. But I forgot the burn and the tear in mine. Whatever shall I do? The burn shows horridly and I can't take any out. You must sit still all you can and keep your back out of sight. The front is alright. I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, And mommy will lend me her little pearl pin. " and my new slippers are lovely. And my gloves will do. Though they aren't as nice as I'd like. Mine are spoiled with lemonade, And I can't get any new ones, So I shall have to go without, " said Jo, Who never troubled herself much about dress. You must have gloves, Or I won't go, " cried Meg decidedly. Gloves are more important than anything else. You can't dance without them. And if you don't i should be so mortified then I'll stay still. I don't care much for company dancing it's no fun to go sailing round. I like to fly about and cut capers. You can't ask mother for new ones. They are so expensive, And you are so careless. She said, When you've spoiled the others, That she shouldn't get you any more this winter. Can't you fix them anyway? " asked Meg, Anxiously. I can hold them crunched up in my hand so no one will know how stained they are. That's all I can do. No, I'll tell you how we can manage. Each wear one good one and carry a bad one, Don't you see? Your hands are bigger than mine, And you will stretch my glove dreadfully, " began Meg, Whose gloves were a tender point with her. Then I'll go without. I don't care what people say, " cried Jo, Taking up her book. You may have it. You may. Only don't stain it. And do behave nicely. Don't put your hands behind you, Or stare, Or say Christopher Columbus, Will you? Don't worry about me, I'll be as prim as a dish and not get into any scrapes, If I 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 a game of romps with Scrabble. On New Year's 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 a great deal of running up and down. Laughing and talking. And at one time, A strong smell of burnt hair pervaded the house. Meg wanted a few curls about her face. And Joe undertook to pinch the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs. Ought they to smoke like that? Asked Beth from her perch on the bed. It's the dampness drying, " replied Joe. What a queer smell. It's like burnt feathers, " observed Amy, Smoothing her own pretty curls with her superior air. Now I'll take off the papers, And you'll see a cloud of little ringlets, " said Joe, 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 a row of little scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim. Oh, Oh, What have you done? I'm spoiled. I can't go. My hair. Oh, My hair! " wailed Meg, Looking with despair at the uneven frizzle on her forehead. Just my luck. You shouldn't have asked me to do it. I always spoil everything. I'm no end sorry, But the tongs were too hot, And so I've made a mess, " groaned poor Joe, Regarding the black pancakes with tears of regret. It isn't spoiled, Just frizzle it, And tie your ribbon so the ends come on your forehead a bit. And it will look like the last fashion. I've seen lots of girls do it so, " said Amy consolingly. Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I'd 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 family, Jo's hair was got up and her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits, Mech in silvery drab with a blue velvet snood, Lace frills, And the pearl pin. Joe in maroon, With a stiff, Gentlemanly linen collar. And a 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 nice. Meg's high-heeled slippers were dreadfully tight. And hurt her. Though she would not own it. And Jo's nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head. Which was not exactly comfortable. But dear me, Let us be elegant or die. Have a good time, Dearies, " said Mrs. March, As the sisters went daintily down the walk. Don't eat much supper, And come away at eleven when I send Hannah for you. " the gate clashed behind them. A voice cried from a window. Girls, Girls, Have you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs? Yes, Yes, Spandy nice. And Meg has cologne on hers, Cried Joe. Adding with a laugh as they went on, I do believe Marmie would ask that if we were all running away from an earthquake. It is one of her aristocratic traits, And quite proper, For a real lady is always known by neat boots, Gloves, And handkerchief, " replied Meg, Who had a good many little aristocratic tastes of her own. Now don't forget to keep the bad breath out of sight, Joe. Is my sash right? Does my hair look very bad? " said Meg, As she turned from the glass in Mrs. Gardner's dressing room after a prolonged prink. I know I shall forget. If you see me doing anything wrong, You just remind me with a wink, Will you? " returned Jo, Giving her collar a twitch and her head a hasty brush. No, Winking isn't ladylike. I'll lift my eyebrows if anything is wrong, And nod if you are alright. Now, Hold your shoulders straight and take short steps and don't shake hands if you are introduced to anyone. It isn't the thing. How do you learn all the proper quirks? I never can. Isn't that music gay? Down they went, Feeling a trifle timid, For they seldom went to parties. And informal as this little gathering was, It was an event to them. Mrs. Gardiner, A stately old lady, Greeted them kindly. And handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters. Meg knew Sally, And was at her ease very soon. But Jo, Who didn't care much for girls or girlish gossip, Stood about with her back carefully against the wall. And felt as much out of place as a cot in a flower garden. Half a 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 near her dwindled away until she was left alone. She could not roam about and amuse herself, For the burnt breath 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 a big, Red-headed youth approaching her corner. And fearing he meant to engage her, She slipped into a 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 Lawrence Boy. Dear me, I didn't 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 a little startled. Don't mind me. Stay if you like. Shan't I disturb you? Not a bit. I only came here because I don't know many people, And felt rather strange at first, You know? So did I. Don't go away, Please. Unless you'd rather. The boy sat down again and looked at his boots. Until Joe said, Trying to be polite and easy. I think I've had the pleasure of seeing you before. You live near us, Don't you? Next door, And he looked up and laughed outright, For Joe's 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 a good time over your nice Christmas present. Grandpa sent it. But you put it into his head, Didn't 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. Lawrence. But I ain't Miss March. I'm only Joe, Returned the young lady. I'm not Mr. Lawrence, I'm only Laurie. Laurie Lawrence was an odd name. My first name is Theodore, But I don't like it. But the fellows called me Dora, So I made them say Lori instead. I hate my name too, So sentimental. I wish everyone would say Joe instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora? I thrashed him. I can't thrash and march, So I suppose I shall have to bear it. And Jo resigned herself with a sigh. Don't 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 a place like this I'm sure to upset something, Tread on people's toes or do something dreadful, So I keep out of mischief and let Meg do the pretty. Don't you dance? Sometimes. You see, I've been abroad a good many years, And haven't been about enough yet to know how you do things here. Abroad, Cried Joe. Oh, Tell me about it. I love dearly to hear people describe their travels. Laurie didn't seem to know where to begin. But Joe's eager questions soon set him going. And he told her how he had been at school in Verve, Where the boys never wore hats, And had a fleet of boats on the lake. And for holiday fun, Went on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers. Don't I wish I'd been there cried Joe. Did you go to Paris? We spent last winter there. Can you talk French? We were not allowed to speak anything else at Verve. Do say some. I can read it, But can't pronounce. Qu'elle nomme à cette jeune demoiselle, On l'épantouche les jolis, Said Laurie, Good-naturedly. How nicely you do it. Let me see. You said, Who is the young lady in the pretty slippers, Didn't you? Oui, Mademoiselle. It's 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 a lady. Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, And stored it up to repeat to Meg. They both peeped and criticized and chatted till they felt like old acquaintances Laurie's bashfulness soon wore off, For Joe's gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him at ease. And Jo was her merry self again, Because her dress was forgotten, And nobody lifted their eyebrows at her. She liked the Lawrence 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, Long nose. Nice teeth. Little hands and feet. Tall as I am. Very polite for a boy and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is. It was on the tip of Jo's tongue to ask, But she checked herself in time. And with unusual tact, Try to find out in a roundabout way. I suppose you're going to college soon. I see you pegging away at your books. No, I mean studying hard. " And Jo blushed at the dreadful pegging which had escaped her. Laurie smiled, But didn't seem shocked, And answered with a shrug, Not for two or three years yet. I won't go before seventeen anyway. You but fifteen? " asked Jo, Looking at the tall lad whom she had imagined seventeen already. 16 next month. How I wish I was going to college. You don't look as if you liked it. I hate it. Nothing but grinding or skylarking. " and I don't 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. Joe 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's a splendid poker. Why don't you go and try it? If you will come too, " he answered with a queer little French bow. I can't, For I told Meg I wouldn't, Because. . . There Joe stopped, And looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh. Because what? Asked Laurie curiously. You won't tell. Never. Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire, And so I burn my frocks, And I scorched this one. And though it's 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, I know. But Laurie didn't laugh he only looked down a minute and the expression of his face puzzled Joe when he said very gently, Never mind that. I'll tell you how we can manage. There's a long haul out there. And we can dance grandly. And no one will see us. Please come. Joe thanked him and gladly went. Wishing she had two neat gloves when she saw the nice pearl-coloured ones her partner put on. The hall was empty. They had a grand polk, For Laurie danced well and taught her the German steps. Which delighted Joe, 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 a student's festival at Heidelberg, When Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned and Jo reluctantly followed her into a side room, Where she found her on a sofa holding her foot and looking pale. I've sprained my ankle, That stupid high heel turned and gave me a horrid wrench. It aches so. I can hardly stand. I don't know how I'm ever going to get home, " she said, Rocking to and fro in pain. I knew you'd hurt your feet with those silly things. I'm sorry, But I don't see what you can do, Except get a carriage or stay here all night, " answered Jo, Softly rubbing the poor ankle as she spoke. I can't have a carriage without it costing ever so much. I dare say I can't get one at all. For most people come in their own, And it's a long way to the stable, And no one to send. I'll go. No, Indeed. It's past ten and dark as Egypt. I can't stop here, For the house is full. Sally has some girls staying with her. I'll rest till Hannah comes, And then do the best I can. I'll ask Laurie. " He'll go, Said Joe, Looking relieved as the idea occurred to her. Mercy, No. Don't ask or tell anyone. Get me my rubbers and put these slippers with our things. I can't dance anymore, But as soon as supper is over, Watch for Hannah and tell me the minute she comes. " They're going to supper now. I'll stay with you, I'd rather. No, Dear. Run along and bring me some coffee. I'm so tired I can't stir. So Meg reclined with the rubbers well hidden, And Joe went blundering away to the dining room. Which she found after going into a china closet and opening the door of a room where old Mr. Gardener was taking a little private refreshment. Making a dive at the table, She secured the coffee, Which she immediately spilt. Thereby making the front of her dress as bad as the back. Oh dear, What a blunderbuss I am! " exclaimed Joe, Finishing Meg's glove by scrubbing her gown with it. Can I help you? " said a friendly voice, And there was Laurie with a full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in the other. I was trying to get something for Meg, Who was very tired, And someone shook me, And here I am in a nice state, " answered Joe, Glancing dismally from the stained skirt to the coffee-colored glove. Too bad. I was looking for someone to give this to. May I take it to your sister? Oh, Thank you. I'll show you where she is. I don't offer to take it myself, For I should only get into another scrape if I did. Joe led the way. And, As if used to waiting on ladies, Laurie drew up a little table. Brought a second installment of coffee and ice for Joe. And was so obliging that even particular Meg pronounced him a nice boy. They had a merry time over the bonbons and mottos and were in the midst of a 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 Joe with an exclamation of pain. And limped up the stairs to put her things on. Hannah scolded, Meg cried, And Jo was at her wit's end. Till she decided to take things into her own hands. Slipping out, She ran down. And finding a servant, Asked if he could get her a carriage. It happened to be a hired waiter who knew nothing about the neighborhood. And Joe was looking round for help when Laurie, Who had heard what she said, Came up and offered his grandfather's carriage, Which had just come for him, He said. It's so early. Can't mean to go yet, " began Joe, Looking relieved but hesitating to accept the offer. I always go early. I do, Truly. Please let me take you home. It's all on my way, You know. And it rains, They say. That settled it. And telling him of Meg's mishap, Jo gratefully accepted, And rushed up to bring down the rest of her party. Hannah hated rain as much as a cat does, So she made no trouble. And they roll 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 a capital time, Did you? " asked Jo, Rumbling up her hair and making herself comfortable. Yes, Till I hurt myself. Sally's friend, Annie Moffat, Took a fancy to me and asked me to come and spend a week with her when Sally does. She's 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 I ran away from. Was he nice? Oh, Very. His hair is auburn, Not red. And he was very polite and I had a delicious Rudoa with him. Looked like a grasshopper in a fit when he did the new steps. Laurie and I couldn't help laughing. Did you hear us? No, But it was very rude. What were you about all that time hidden away in there? Jo told her adventures. By the time she had finished, They were at home. With many thanks, They said goodnight 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 cried out. Tell about the party. Tell about the party. With what Meg called a great want of manners, Joe had saved some bonbons for the little girls, And they soon subsided after hearing the most thrilling events of the evening. I declare it really seems like being a fine young lady to come home from my party in my carriage and sit in my dressing gown with a maid to wait on me, " said Meg, As Jo bound up her foot with Annika and brushed her hair. I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do. In spite of our burnt hair, Old gowns, One glove apiece, And tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them. And I think Joe was quite right. Chapter 4. Burdens. Oh dear, How hard it does seem to take up our packs and go on, Sighed Mech, The morning after the party. For now the holidays were over. The week of merrymaking did not fit her for going on easily with the tasks she never liked. I wish it was Christmas or New Year all the time. Wouldn't it be fun? " answered Joe, Yawning dismally. We shouldn't enjoy ourselves half as much as we do now but it does seem so nice to have little suppers and bouquets and go to parties and drive home in a carriage and read and rest and not grub It's like other people, You know. And I always envy girls who do such things. I'm so fond of luxury, " said Meg, Trying to decide which of two shabby gowns was the least shabby. Well, We can't have it, So don't let's grumble, But shoulder our burdens and trudge along as cheerfully as Mami does. I'm sure Aunt March is a regular old man of the sea to me. But I suppose when I've learned to carry her without complaining, She will tumble off, Or get so light that I shan't mind her. This idea tickled Jo's fancy and put her in good spirits. But Meg didn't brighten, For her burden, Consisting of four spoiled children, Seemed heavier than ever. She hadn't heart enough to make herself pretty, As usual, By putting on a blue neck ribbon and dressing her hair in the most becoming way. Where's the use of looking nice when no one sees me but those cross midgets, And no one cares whether I'm pretty or not? " she muttered, Shutting her drawer with a jerk. I shall have to toil and moil all my days, With only little bits of fun now and then, And get old and ugly and sour, Because I'm poor and can't enjoy my life as other girls do. It's a shame So Meg went down wearing an injured look and wasn't at all agreeable at breakfast time. Everyone seemed rather out of sorts and inclined to croak. Beth had a headache and lay on the sofa trying to comfort herself with the cat and three kittens. Amy was fretting because her lessons were not learned and she couldn't find her rubbers. Joe would whistle and make a great racket getting ready. Mrs March was very busy trying to finish a letter which must go at once. And Hannah had the grumps, For being up late didn't suit her. There never was such a cross family, " cried Jo, Losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand, Broken both boot lacings, And sat down upon her hat. You're the crossest person in it, " returned Amy, Washing out the sum that was all wrong with the tears that had fallen on her slate. Beth, If you don't keep those horrid cats down cellar, I'll have them drowned! " exclaimed Meg angrily, As she tried to get rid of the kitten who had swarmed up her back and stuck like a burr just out of reach. Jo laughed, Meg scolded, Beth implored, And Amy wailed because she couldn't remember how much 9 times 12 was. Girls girls do be quiet one minute i must get this off by the early mail you drive me distracted with your worry, " cried Mrs. March, Crossing out the third spoiled sentence in her letter. There was a momentary lull. Broken by Hannah, Who bounced in. Laid two hot turnovers on the table. And bounced out again. These turnovers were an institution. The girls called them muffs, For they had no others, And found the hot pies very comforting to their hands on cold mornings. Hannah never forgot to make them, No matter how busy or grumpy she might be, For the walk was long and bleak. The poor things got no other lunch, And were seldom home before three. Cuddle your cats and get over your headache, Bethy. Goodbye, Mommy. We are a set of rascals this morning, But we'll come home regular angels. Now then, Meg. And Jo tramped away, Feeling that the pilgrims were not setting out as they ought to do. They always looked back before turning the corner. For their mother was always at the window to nod and smile and wave her hand to them. Somehow it seemed as if they couldn't have got through the day without that. For whatever their mood might be, The last glimpse of that motherly face was sure to affect them like sunshine. If Mommy shook her fist instead of kissing her hand to us, It would serve us right. For more ungrateful minxes than we are were never seen, " cried Joe, Taking a remorseful satisfaction in the slushy road and bitter wind. Don't use such dreadful expressions, " said Meg, From the depths of the veil in which she had shrouded herself, Like a nun sick of the world. I like good, Strong words that mean something, " replied Jo, Catching her hat as it took a leap off her head, Preparatory to flying away altogether. Call yourself any names you like. But i am neither a rascal nor a minx and don't choose to be called so You are a blighted being and decidedly crossed today because you can't sit in the lap of luxury all the time. Poor dear, Just wait till I make my fortune, And you shall revel in carriages, And ice-cream, And high-heeled slippers, And posies, And red-headed boys to dance with. " How ridiculous you are, Jo! But Meg laughed at the nonsense, And felt better in spite of herself. Lucky for you I am, For if I put on crushed airs and tried to be dismal as you do, We should be in a nice state. Thank goodness I can always find something funny to keep me up. Don't croak anymore, But come home jolly, There's a deer. Jo gave her sister an encouraging pat on the shoulder as they parted for the day, Each going a different way and hugging her little warm turnover, And each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry weather, Hard work, And the unsatisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth. When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help an unfortunate friend, The two oldest girls begged to be allowed to do something toward their own support at least. Believing that they could not begin too early to cultivate energy, Industry, And independence, Their parents consented. And both fell to work with the hearty goodwill which, In spite of all obstacles, Is sure to succeed at last. Margaret found a place as nursery governess, And felt rich with her small salary. As she said, She was fond of luxury, And her chief trouble was poverty. She found it harder to bear than the others, Because she could remember a time when home was beautiful, Life full of ease and pleasure, And want of any kind unknown. She tried not to be envious or discontented, But it was very natural that the young girl should long for pretty things. Gay friends. Accomplishments and a happy life. At the King's, She daily saw all she wanted, For the children's older sisters were just out, And Meg caught frequent glimpses of dainty ball-dresses and bouquets, Heard lively gossip about theatres, Concerts, Slaying parties, And merry-makings of all kinds, And saw money lavished on trifles which would have been so precious to her. Poor Meg seldom complained, But a sense of injustice made her feel bitter toward everyone sometimes, For she had not yet learned to know how rich she was in the blessings which alone can make life happy. Jo happened to suit Aunt March, Who was lame and needed an active person to wait upon her. The childless old lady had offered to adopt one of the girls when the troubles came. And was much offended because her offer was declined. Other friends told the marchers that they had lost all chance of being remembered in the rich old lady's will. But the unworldly marchers only said, We can't give up our girls for a dozen fortunes. Rich or poor, We will keep together and be happy in one another. The old lady wouldn't speak to them for a time. But, Happening to meet Jo at a friend's, Something in her comical face and blunt manners struck the old lady's fancy, And she proposed to take her for a companion. This did not suit Jo at all, But she accepted the place, Since nothing better appeared. And, To everyone's surprise, Got on remarkably well with her irascible relative. There was an occasional tempest. And once Jo had marched home, Declaring she couldn't bear it any longer. But Aunt March always cleared up quickly. And sent for her back again with such urgency that she could not refuse. For in her heart, She rather liked the peppery old lady. I suspect that the real attraction was a large library of fine books, Which was left to dust and spiders since Uncle March died. Joe remembered the kind old gentleman who used to let her build railroads and bridges with his big dictionaries. Would tell her stories about the queer pictures in his Latin books. And buy her cards of gingerbread whenever he met her in the street. The dim, Dusty room, With the busts staring down from the tall bookcases, The cozy chairs, The globes, And best of all, The wilderness of books in which she could wander where she liked, Made the library a region of bliss to her. The moment Aunt March took her nap. Or was busy with company, Joe hurried to this quiet place. And curling herself up in the big chair, Devoured poetry. Romance History travels. And pictures like a regular bookworm. But, Like all happiness, It did not last long. For as sure as she had just reached the heart of the story, The sweetest verse of the song, Or the most perilous adventure of her traveler, A shrill voice called, Josephine, Josephine, And she had to leave her paradise to wind yarn. Wash the poodle. Or read Belsham's essays by the hour together. Joe's ambition was to do something very splendid. What it was, She had no idea, But left it for time to tell her. And, Meanwhile, Found her greatest affliction in the fact that she couldn't read, Run and ride as much as she liked. Her quick temper, Sharp tongue and restless spirit were always getting her into scrapes, And her life was a series of ups and downs, Which were both comic and pathetic. But the training she received at Aunt March's was just what she needed, And the thought that she was doing something to support herself made her happy. In spite of the perpetual Josephine. Beth was too bashful to go to school. It had been tried, But she suffered so much that it was given up, And she did her lessons at home with her father. Even when he went away, And her mother was called to devote her skill and energy to soldiers' aid societies, Beth went faithfully on by herself, And did the best she could She was a housewifely little creature, And helped Hannah keep home neat and comfortable for the workers, Never thinking of any reward but to be loved. Long, Quiet days she spent, Not lonely or idle, For her little world was peopled with imaginary friends. And she was by nature a busy bee. There were six dolls to be taken up and dressed every morning, For Beth was a child still, And loved her pets as well as ever. Not one whole or handsome one among them. All were outcasts till Beth took them in. For, When her sisters outgrew these idols, They passed to her, Because Amy would have nothing old or ugly. " Beth cherished them all the more tenderly for that very reason, And set up a hospital for infirm dolls. No pins were ever stuck into their cotton vitals, No harsh words or blows were ever given them, No neglect ever saddened the heart of the most repulsive, But all were fed and clothed, Nursed and caressed with an affection which never failed. One forlorn fragment of dullanity had belonged to Joe. And, Having led a tempestuous life, Was left a wreck in the ragbag of his life. From which dreary poor house it was rescued by Beth and taken to her refuge. Having no top to its head, She tied on a neat little cap. And, As both arms and legs were gone, She hid these deficiencies by folding it in a blanket and devoting her best bed to this chronic invalid. If anyone had known the care lavished on that dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, Even while they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets. She read to it. Took it out to breathe the air hidden under her coat. She sung it lullabies. And never went to bed without kissing its dirty face and whispering tenderly. I hope you'll have a good night, My poor dear. Beth had her troubles as well as the others. And not being an angel, But a very human little girl, She often wept a little weep, As Joe said, Because she couldn't take music lessons and have a fine piano. She loved music so dearly, Tried so hard to learn, And practiced away so patiently at the jingling old instrument. That it did seem as if someone, Not to hint Aunt March, Ought to help her. Nobody did, However, And nobody saw Beth wipe the tears off the yellow keys that wouldn't keep in tune when she was all alone. She sung like a little lark about her work, Never was too tired to play for Mommy and the girls, And day after day said hopefully to herself, I know I'll get my music sometime, If I'm good. There are many Beths in the world, Shy and quiet, Sitting in corners till needed. And living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping. And the sweet sunshiny presence vanishes, Leaving silence and shadow behind. If anybody asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, She would have answered at once, My nose. When she was a baby, Joe had accidentally dropped her into the coal hot, And Amy insisted that the fall had ruined her nose forever. It was not big, Nor red like poor Petreus. It was only rather flat. And all the pinching in the world could not give it an aristocratic point. No one minded it but herself. And it was doing its best to grow. But Amy felt deeply the want of a Grecian nose. And drew whole sheets of handsome ones to console herself. Little Raphael, As her sisters called her, Had a decided talent for drawing, And was never so happy as when copying flowers, Designing fairies, Or illustrating stories with queer specimens of art. Her teachers complained that instead of doing her sums, She covered her slate with animals. The blank pages of her atlas were used to copy maps on. And caricatures of the most ludicrous description came fluttering out of all her books at unlucky moments. She got through her lessons as well as she could, And managed to escape reprimands by being a model of deportment. She was a great favorite with her mates, Being good-tempered and possessing the happy art of pleasing without effort. Her little airs and graces were much admired. So were her accomplishments. For beside her drawing she could play twelve tunes. Crochet. And read French without mispronouncing more than two-thirds of the words. She had a plaintive way of saying, When Papa was rich we did so and so, Which was very touching, And her long words were considered perfectly elegant by the girls. Amy was in a fair way to be spoiled, For everyone petted her, And her small vanities and selfishness were growing nicely. One thing, However, Rather quenched the vanities. She had to wear her cousin's clothes. Now, Florence's mother hadn't a particle of taste, And Amy suffered deeply at having to wear a red instead of a blue bonnet, Unbecoming gowns, And fussy aprons that did not fit Everything was good, Well made and little worn. But Amy's artistic eyes were much afflicted. Especially this winter, When her school dress was a dull purple with yellow dots and no trimming. My only comfort, She said to Meg with tears in her eyes, Is that mother don't take tux in my dresses whenever I'm naughty, As Maria Parks' mother does. My dear, It's really dreadful, For sometimes she is so bad, Her frock is up to her knees and she can't come to school. When I think of this degradation, I feel that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown with yellow skyrockets on it. Meg was Amy's confidante and monitor, And by some strange attraction of opposites, Joe was gentle Beth's. To Jo alone did this shy child tell her thoughts, And over her big, Harem-scarem sister, Beth unconsciously exercised more influence than anyone in the family. The two older girls were a great deal to each other, But both took one of the younger into their keeping and watched over them in their own way. Playing mother, They called it, And put their sisters in the places of discarded dolls, With the maternal instinct of little women. Has anybody got anything to tell? It's been such a dismal day, I'm really dying for some amusement, " said Meg, As they sat sewing together that evening. I had a queer time with aunt today. And as I got the best of it, I'll tell you about it, " began Joe, Who dearly loved to tell stories. I was reading that everlasting Belsham and droning away as I always do, For Aunt soon drops off, And then I take out some nice book and read like fury till she wakes up. I actually made myself sleepy. And before she began to nod, I gave such a gape that she asked me what I meant by opening my mouth wide enough to take the whole book in at once. I wish I could, And be done with it, " said I, Trying not to be saucy. Then she gave me a long lecture on my sins and told me to sit and think them over while she just lost herself for a moment. She never finds herself very soon. So the minute her cap began to bob like a top-heavy dahlia, I whipped the vicar of Wakefield out of my pocket and read away, With one eye on him and one on aunt. I'd just got to where they all tumbled into the water when I forgot and laughed out loud. Aunt woke up, And being more good-natured after her nap, Told me to read a bit. And show what frivolous work I preferred to the worthy and instructive Belsham. I did my very best and she liked it. Though she only said, I don't understand what it's all about. Go back and begin it, Child. Back I went. And made the primroses as interesting as ever I could. Once I was wicked enough to stop in a thrilling place and say meekly, I'm afraid it tires you ma'am, Shan't I stop now? She caught up her knitting, Which had dropped out of her hands. Gave me a sharp look through her specks and said in her short way, Finish the chapter and don't be impertinent miss. Did she own she liked it? Asked Meg. I'll bless you now but she let old belsham rest. And when I ran back after my gloves this afternoon, There she was, So hard at the vicar that she didn't hear me laugh as I danced a jig in the hall because of the good time coming. What a pleasant life she might have, If she only chose. I don't envy her much, In spite of her money. For after all, Rich people have about as many worries as poor ones, I guess. That reminds me, " said Meg, That I've got something to tell. It isn't funny like Joe's story. But I thought about it a good deal as I came home. At the King's today, I found everybody in a flurry. And one of the children said that her oldest brother had done something dreadful and Papa had sent him away. I heard Mrs. King crying and Mr. King talking very loud. And Grace and Ellen turned away their faces when they passed me, So I shouldn't see how red their eyes were. I didn't ask any questions of course, But I felt so sorry for them, And was rather glad I hadn't any wild brothers to do wicked things and disgrace the family. I think being disgraced in school is a great deal tryinger than anything bad boys can do, " said Amy, Shaking her head, As if her experience of life had been a deep one. Susie Perkins came to school today with a lovely red carnelian ring. I wanted it dreadfully, And wished I was her with all my might. Well, She drew a picture of Mr. Davis with a monstrous nose and a hump. And the words, Young ladies, My eye is upon you, Coming out of his mouth in a balloon thing. We were laughing over it. When all of a sudden his eye was on us and he ordered Susie to bring up her slate She was paralyzed with fright, But she went. Oh, What do you think he did? He took her by the ear. The ear, Just fancy how horrid. And led her to the recitation platform, And made her stand there half an hour, Holding the slate so everyone could see. Didn't the girls shout at the picture? " asked Joe, Who relished the scrape. Laugh, Not a one! They sat as still as mice, And Susie cried quarts, I know she did. I didn't envy her then, For I felt that millions of carnelian rings wouldn't have made me happy after that. I never, Never should have got over such an agonizing mortification. And Amy went on with her work in the proud consciousness of virtue and the successful utterance of two long words in her breath. I saw something that I liked this morning, And I meant to tell it at dinner, But I forgot, " said Beth, Putting Jo's topsy-turvy basket in order as she talked. When I went to get some oysters for Hannah, Mr. Lawrence was in the fish shop. But he didn't see me, For I kept behind a barrel. And he was busy with Mr. Cutter, The fish-man. A poor woman came in with a pail and a mop and asked Mr. Cutter if he would let her do some scrubbing for a bit of fish because she didn't have any dinner for her children and had been disappointed of a day's work. Mr. Cutter was in a hurry and said no rather crossly. So she was going away, Looking hungry and sorry, When Mr. Lawrence hooked up a big fish with the crooked end of his cane and held it out to her. She was so glad and surprised she took it right in her arms and thanked him over and over. He told her to go along and cook it, And she hurried off so happy. Wasn't it nice of him? Oh, She did look so funny, Hugging the big, Slippery fish, And hoping Mr. Lawrence's bed in heaven would be azy. When they had laughed at Beth's story, They asked their mother for one. And after a moment's thought, She said soberly, As I sat cutting out blue flannel jackets today at the rooms, I felt very anxious about father. And thought how lonely and helpless we should be if anything happened to him. It was not a wise thing to do, But I kept on worrying, Till an old man came in with an order for some things. He sat down near me and I began to talk to him. But he looked poor and tired and anxious. Have you sons in the army? " I asked, For the note he brought was not to me. Yes, Ma'am. I had four, But two were killed. One is a prisoner, And I'm going to the other who is very sick in a Washington hospital, " he answered quietly. You have done a great deal for your country, Sir, " I said, Feeling respect now instead of pity. Not a mite more than I ought, Ma'am. I'd go myself if I was any use. As I ain't, I give my boys, And give them free. He spoke so cheerfully, Looked so sincere, And seemed so glad to give his all that I was ashamed of myself. I'd given one man and thought it too much, While he gave four without grudging them. " I had all my girls to comfort me at home, And his last son was waiting, Miles away, To say goodbye to him, Perhaps. I felt so rich, So happy thinking of my blessings that I made him a nice bundle. Gave him some money and thanked him heartily for the lesson he had taught me. Tell another story, Mother. One with a moral to it, Like this. I like to think about them afterwards, If they are real, And not too preachy, " said Joe, After a minute's silence. Mrs. March smiled and began at once, For she had told stories to this little audience for many years and knew how to please them. Once upon a time, There were four girls who had enough to eat and drink and wear, A good many comforts and pleasures, Kind friends and parents who loved them dearly, And yet they were not contented. Here the listeners stole sly looks at one another and began to sew diligently. These girls were anxious to be good and made many excellent resolutions. But somehow they did not keep them very well. And were constantly saying, If only we had this, Or if only we could do that, Quite forgetting how much they already had, And how many pleasant things they actually could do. So they asked an old woman what spell they could use to make them happy. And she said. . . When you feel discontented, Think over your blessings and be grateful. Here, Joe looked up quickly, As if about to speak. But changed her mind, Seeing that the story was not done yet. Being sensible girls, They decided to try her advice, And soon were surprised to see how well off they were. One discovered that money couldn't keep shame and sorrow out of rich people's houses. Another that though she was poor, She was a great deal happier with her youth, Health, And good spirits than a certain fretful, Feeble old lady who couldn't enjoy her comforts. A third that, Disagreeable as it was to help get dinner, It was harder still to have to go begging for it. The fourth, That even carnelian rings were not so valuable as good behavior. So they agreed to stop complaining, To enjoy the blessings already possessed, And try to deserve them, Lest they should be taken away entirely, Instead of increased. And I believe they were never disappointed or sorry that they took the old woman's advice. Now, Marmie, That is very cunning of you to turn our own stories against us, And give us a sermon instead of a spin, " cried Meg. I like that kind of sermon. It's the sort father used to tell us, " said Beth thoughtfully, Putting the needles straight on Joe's cushion. I don't complain near as much as the others do, And I shall be more careful than ever now, For I've had warning from Susie's downfall, " said Amy morally. We needed that lesson, And we won't forget it. If we do, You just say to us as old Chloe did in Uncle Tom. Tink of your mercies, Chillen. Tink of your mercies, " added Jo, Who could not for the life of her help getting a morsel of fun out of the little sermon, Though she took it to heart as much as any of them. CHAPTER 5 BEING NEIGHBOURLY What in the world are you going to do now, Joe? " asked Meg one snowy afternoon, As her sister came clumping through the hall in rubber boots, Old sack and hood, With a broom in one hand and a shovel in the other. Going out for exercise, " answered Jo, With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. I should think two long walks this morning would have been enough. It's cold and dull out, And I advise you to stay, Warm and dry by the fire as I do, " said Meg with a shiver. Never take advice. Can't keep still all day. And not being a pussycat, I don't like to doze by the fire. I like adventures, And I'm going to find some. Meg went back to toast her feet and read Ivanhoe, And Jo began to dig paths with great energy. The snow was light, And with her broom she soon swept a path all round the garden for Beth to walk in when the sun came out, And the invalid dolls needed air. The garden separated the March's house from that of Mr. Lawrence. Both stood in a suburb of the city, Which was still country-like, With groves and lawns, Large gardens, And quiet streets. A low hedge parted the two estates. On one side was an old brown house, Looking rather bare and shabby, Robbed of the vines that in summer covered its walls, And the flowers which then surrounded it. On the other side was a stately stone mansion, Plainly betokening every sort of comfort and luxury, From the big coach house and well-kept grounds, To the conservatory, And the glimpses of lovely things one caught between the rich curtains. Yet it seemed a lonely, Lifeless sort of house, For no children frolicked on the lawn, No motherly face ever smiled at the windows, And few people went in and out except the old gentleman and his grandson. To Joe's lively fancy, This fine house seemed a kind of enchanted palace, Full of splendors and delights which no one enjoyed. She had long wanted to behold these hidden glories and to know the Lawrence boy. Who looked as if he would like to be known if he only knew how to begin. Since the party, She had been more eager than ever, And had planned many ways of making friends with him. But he had not been lately seen, And Jo began to think he had gone away, When she one day spied a brown face at an upper window, Looking wistfully down into their garden, Where Beth and Amy were snowballing one another. That boy is suffering for society and fun, She said to herself. His grandpa don't know what's good for him and keeps him shut up all alone. He needs a lot of jolly boys to play with, Or somebody young and lively. I've a great mind to go over and tell the old gentleman so. The idea amused Jo, Who liked to do daring things, And was always scandalizing Meg by her queer performances. The plan of going over was not forgotten, And when the snowy afternoon came, Joe resolved to try what could be done. She saw Mr. Lawrence drive off. And then sallied out to dig her way down to the hedge, Where she paused and took a survey. Wall quiet, Curtains down at the lower windows, Servants out of sight, And nothing human visible but a curly black head leaning on a thin hand at the upper window. There he is, Thought Joe. Poor boy, All alone and sick this dismal day. It's a shame. I'll toss up a snowball and make him look out, And then say a kind word to him. Up went a handful of soft snow, And the head turned at once, Showing a face which lost its listless look in a minute as the big eyes brightened and the mouth began to smile. Jo nodded and laughed and flourished her broom as she called out. How do you do? Are you sick? Laurie opened the window. Better, Thank you. I've had a horrible cold and been shut up a week. I'm sorry, What do you amuse yourself with? Nothing. Don't you read? Not much. They won't let me. What can't somebody read to you? Grandpa does sometimes, But my books don't interest him, And I hate to ask Brooke all the time. Have someone come and see you then. There isn't anyone I'd like to see. Boys make such a row and my head is weak. Isn't there some nice girl who'd read and amuse you? Girls are quiet and like to play nurse. Don't know any. You know me, Began Joe. So I do. Will you come, Please, Cried Laurie. I'm not quiet and nice, But I'll come, If mother will let me. I'll go and ask her. Shut that window like a good boy and wait till I come. With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house, Wondering what they would all say to her. Laurie was in a little flutter of excitement at the idea of having company, And flew about to get ready. For, As Mrs. March said, He was a little gentleman, And did honor to the coming of guests by brushing his curly pate, Putting on a fresh collar, And trying to tidy up the room, Which, In spite of half a dozen servants, Was anything but neat. Presently, There came a loud ring. Then a decided voice asking for Mr. Lorry, And a surprised looking servant came running up to announce a young lady. All right, Show her up. It's Miss Jo, " said Laurie, Going to the door of his little parlor to meet Jo, Who appeared looking rosy and kind and quite at her ease, With a covered dish in one hand and Beth's three kittens in the other. Here I am, Bag and baggage, She said briskly. Mother sent her love and was glad if I could do anything for you. Meg wanted me to bring some of her blancmange, She makes it very nice, And Beth thought her cats would be comforting. I knew you'd shout at them, But I couldn't refuse, She was so anxious to do something. It so happened that Beth's funny loan was just the thing, For in laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his bashfulness and grew sociable at once. That looks too pretty to eat, " he said, Smiling with pleasure, As Joe uncovered the dish and showed the blancmange, Surrounded by a garland of green leaves and the scarlet flowers of Amy's pet geranium. It isn't anything, Only they all felt kindly and wanted to show it. Tell the girl to put it away for your tea. It's so simple, You can eat it and, Being soft, It will slip down without hurting your sore throat. What a cozy room this is. It might be if it was kept nice, But the maids are lazy and I don't know how to make them mind. It worries me though. I'll write it up in two minutes, For it only needs to have the hearth brushed so, And the things stood straight on the mantelpiece so, And the books put here, The bottles there, And your sofa turned from the light, And the pillows plumped up a bit. Now then, You're fixed. And so he was, For as she laughed and talked, Joe had whisked things into place and given quite a different air to the room. Laurie watched her in respectful silence, And when she beckoned him to his sofa, He sat down with a sigh of satisfaction, Saying gratefully, How kind you are. Yes, That's what it wanted. Now please take the big chair and let me do something to amuse my company. No, I came to amuse you. Shall I read aloud? " And Joe looked affectionately towards some inviting books nearby. Thank you, I've read all those. And if you don't mind, I'd rather talk, " answered Laurie. Not a bit. I'll talk all day if you only set me going. Path says I never know when to stop. " Is Beth the rosy one who stays at home a good deal and sometimes goes out with a little basket? Ask Laurie with interest. Yes, That's Beth. She's my girl, And a regular good one she is too. The pretty one is Meg, And the curly-haired one is Amy, I believe. How did you find that out? Laurie colored up, But answered frankly. Why, You see, I often hear you calling to one another, And when I'm alone up here, I can't help looking over at your house. You always seem to be having such good times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, But sometimes you forget to put the curtain down at the window where the flowers are. And when the lamps are lighted, It's like looking at a picture to see the fire and you all round the table with your mother. Her face is right opposite and it looks so sweet behind the flowers. I can't help watching it. I haven't got any mother, You know. " And Laurie poked the fire to hide a little twitching of the lips that he could not control. The solitary, Hungry look in his eyes went straight to Jo's warm heart. She had been so simply taught that there was no nonsense in her head. And at fifteen, She was as innocent and frank as any child. Laurie was sick and lonely, And feeling how rich she was in home love and happiness, She gladly tried to share it with him. Her brown face was very friendly and her sharp voice unusually gentle as she said, We'll never draw that curtain anymore and I give you leave to look as much as you like I just wish though, Instead of peeping, You'd come over and see us. Mother is so splendid. She do you heaps of good. And Beth would sing to you if I begged her to, And Amy would dance. Meg and I would make you laugh over our funny stage properties, And we'd have jolly times. Wouldn't your grandpa let you? I think he would if your mother asked him He's very kind, Though he doesn't look it, And he lets me do what I like, Pretty much. Only he's afraid I might be a bother to strangers, " began Laurie, Brightening more and more. We ain't strangers, We're neighbours, And you needn't think you'd be a bother. We want to know you, And I've been trying to do it this ever so long. We haven't been here a great while, You know, But we have got acquainted with all our neighbours but you. You see, Grandpa lives among his books and don't mind much what happens outside. Mr. Brook, My tutor, Don't stay here, You know, And I have no one to go round with me, So I just stop at home and get on as I can. That's bad. You ought to make a dive and go visiting everywhere you are asked. Then you'll have lots of friends and pleasant places to go. Never mind being bashful, It won't last long if you keep going Laurie turned red again, But wasn't offended at being accused of bashfulness For there was so much goodwill in Jo, It was impossible not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant Do you like your school? " asked the boy, Changing the subject after a little pause, During which he stared at the fire, And Jo looked about her well-pleased. Don't go to school. I'm a businessman. A girl, I mean. I go to wait on my aunt, And a dear cross old soul she is too, " answered Joe. Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question, But remembering just in time that it wasn't manners to make too many inquiries into people's affairs, He shut it again and looked uncomfortable. Joe liked his good breeding and didn't mind having a laugh at Aunt March, So she gave him a lively description of the fidgety old lady, Her fat poodle, The parrot that talked Spanish, And the library where she reveled. Laurie enjoyed that immensely, And when she told about the prim old gentleman who came once to woo Aunt March, And in the middle of a fine speech, How Paul had tweaked his wig off to his great dismay, The boy lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, And a maid popped her head in to see what was the matter. Oh, That does me lots of good. Tell on, Please, " he said, Taking his face out of the sofa cushion, Red and shining with merriment. Much elated with her success, Jo did tell on, All about their plays and plans, Their hopes and fears for father, And the most interesting events of the little world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to talking about books, And to Jo's delight, She found that Laurie loved them as well as she did, And had read even more than herself. If you like them so much, Come down and see ours. Grandpa is out, So you needn't be afraid, " said Laurie, Getting up. I'm not afraid of anything, " returned Joe with a toss of the head. I don't believe you are! " exclaimed the boy, Looking at her with much admiration. Though he privately thought she would have good reason to be a trifle afraid of the old gentleman if she met him in some of his moods. The atmosphere of the whole house being summer-like, Laurie led the way from room to room. Letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her fancy. And so, At last, They came to the library, Where she clapped her hands and pranced as she always did when especially delighted. It was lined with books. And there were pictures and statues, And distracting little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, And sleepy hollow chairs, And queer tables and bronzes. And, Best of all, A great open fireplace with quaint tiles all around it. What richness, Sighed Joe, Sinking into the depth of a velvet chair and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction. Theodore Lawrence, You ought to be the happiest boy in the world, " she added impressively. A fellow can't live on books, " said Laurie, Shaking his head as he perched on a table opposite. Before he could say more, A bell rung, And Joe flew up, Exclaiming with alarm, Mercy me, It's your grandpa! Well, What if it is? You are not afraid of anything, You know, " returned the boy, Looking wickedly. I think I am a little bit afraid of him, But I don't know why I should be. Mommy said I might come, And I don't think you're any the worse for it, " said Jo, Composing herself, Though she kept her eyes on the door. I'm a great deal better for it, And ever so much obliged. I'm only afraid you are very tired talking to me. It was so pleasant, I couldn't bear to stop, " said Laurie gratefully. The doctor to see you sir, And the maid beckoned as she spoke. Would you mind if I left you for a minute? I suppose I must see him, " said Laurie. Don't mind me, I am as happy as a cricket here, " answered Joe. Laurie went away, And his guest amused herself in her own way. She was standing before a fine portrait of the old gentleman when the door opened again. And without turning, She said decidedly. I'm sure now that I shouldn't be afraid of him, For he's got kind eyes, Though his mouth is grim and he looks as if he had a tremendous will of his own. He isn't as handsome as my grandfather, But I like him. Thank you, Ma'am, " said a gruff voice behind her. And there, To her great dismay, Stood old Mr. Lawrence. Poor Jo blushed till she couldn't blush any redder, And her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast as she thought what she had said. For a minute, A wild desire to run away possessed her. But that was cowardly, And the girls would laugh at her. So she resolved to stay, And get out of the scrape as she could. A second look showed her that the living eyes, Under the bushy grey eyebrows, Were kinder even than the painted ones, And there was a sly twinkle in them, Which lessened her fear a good deal. The gruff voice was gruffer than ever, As the old gentleman said abruptly after that dreadful pause. So you're not afraid of me, Hey? Not much, Sir. And you don't think me as handsome as your grandfather. Not quite, Sir. And I've got a tremendous will, Have I? I only said I thought so. But you like me in spite of it. Yes, I do, Sir. That answer pleased the old gentleman. He gave a short laugh, Shook hands with her, And putting his finger under her chin, Turned up her face, Examined it gravely, And let it go, Saying with a nod, You've got your grandfather's spirit, If you haven't his face. He was a fine man, My dear. But what is better, He was a brave and honest one. And i was proud to be his friend Thank you, Sir. " And Jo was quite comfortable after that, For it suited her exactly. What have you been doing to this boy of mine, Eh? " was the next question sharply put. Only trying to be neighbourly, Sir, And Jo told how her visit came about. You think he needs cheering up a bit, Do you? Yes sir he seems a little lonely and young folks would do him good perhaps We are only girls, But we should be glad to help if we could, For we don't forget the splendid Christmas present you send us, " said Joe eagerly. Well, That was the boys affair. How is the poor woman? Doing nicely, Sir. " And off went Jo, Talking very fast, As she told all about the Hommels, In whom her mother had interested richer friends than they were. Just her father's way of doing good i shall come and see your mother some fine day tell her so Ah, There's the tea bell. We have it early on the boys' account. Come down and go on being neighbourly. If you'd like to have me, Sir. Shouldn't ask you if I didn't, " and Mr. Lawrence offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy. What would Meg say to this? Thought Jo as she was marched away, While her eyes danced with fun as she imagined herself telling the story at home. Why, What the dickens has come to the fellow? " said the old gentleman, As Laurie came running down the stairs, And brought up with a start of surprise, At the astonishing sight of Joe, Arm in arm with his redoubtable grandfather. I didn't know you'd come, Sir, " he began, As Joe gave him a triumphant little glance. That's evident by the way you rack it downstairs. Come to your tea, Sir, And behave like a gentleman. And having pulled the boy's hair by way of a caress, Mr. Lawrence walked on, While Laurie went through a series of comic evolutions behind their backs, Which nearly produced an explosion of laughter from Joe. The old gentleman did not say much as he drank his four cups of tea, But he watched the young people, Who soon chatted away like old friends, And the change in his grandson did not escape him. There was color, Light and life in the boy's face now vivacity in his manner, And genuine merriment in his lap. She's right, The lad is lonely. I'll see what these little girls can do for him, Thought Mr Lawrence, As he looked and listened. He liked Jo, For her odd, Blunt ways suited him, And she seemed to understand the boy almost as well as if she had been one herself. If the Lawrences had been what Jo called prim and pokey, She would not have got on at all, For such people always made her shy and awkward. But finding them free and easy, She was so herself, And made a good impression. When they rose, She proposed to go, But Laurie said he had something more to show her, And took her away to the conservatory, Which had been lighted up for her benefits. It seemed quite fairy-like to Jo, As she went up and down the walks, Enjoying the blooming walls on either side, The soft light, The damp, Sweet air, And the wonderful vines and trees that hung above her, While her new friend cut the finest flowers till his hands were full. Then he tied them up. Saying with the happy look Jo liked to see. Please give these to your mother and tell her I like the medicine she sent me very much. They found Mr. Lawrence standing before the fire in the great drawing room. But Joe's attention was entirely absorbed by the grand piano which stood open. Do you play? " she asked, Turning to Laurie with a respectful expression. Sometimes, He answered modestly. Please do now, I want to hear it so I can tell Beth. Won't you first? Don't know how, Too stupid to learn, But I love music dearly. So Laurie played and Jo listened, With her nose luxuriously buried in heliotrope and tea roses. Her respect and regard for the Lawrence boy increased very much, For he played remarkably well and didn't put on any airs. She wished Beth could hear him, But she did not say so. Only praised him till he was quite abashed, And his grandfather came to the rescue. That will do, That will do, Young lady. Too many sugar plums are not good for him. His music isn't bad, But I hope he will do us well in more important things. Going? Well, I'm much obliged to you, And I hope you'll come again. My respects to your mother. Good night, Dr. Joe. He shook hands kindly, But looked as if something did not please him. When they got into the hall, Jo asked Laurie if she had said anything amiss. He shook his head. No, It was me. He doesn't like to hear me play. Why not? I'll tell you someday. John is going home with you as I can't. But no need of that. I ain't a young lady, And it's only a step. Take care of yourself, Won't you? Yes, But you will come again, I hope. If you promise to come and see us after your well, I will. Good night, Laurie. Good night, Joe. Good night. When all the afternoon's adventures had been told, The family felt inclined to go visiting in a body, For each found something very attractive in the big house on the other side of the hedge. Mrs. March wanted to talk of her father with the old man who had not forgotten him. Mech longs to walk in the conservatory. Beth sighed for the grand piano. And Amy was eager to see the fine pictures and the statues. Mother, Why didn't Mr. Lawrence like to have Laurie play? Asked Joe, Who was of an inquiring disposition. I'm not sure, But I think it was because his son, Laurie's father, Married an Italian lady, A musician, Which displeased the old man, Who was very proud. The lady was good and lovely and accomplished, But he did not like her and never saw his son after he married. They both died when Laurie was a little child, And then his grandfather took him home. I fancy the boy, Who was born in Italy, Is not very strong, And the old man is afraid of losing him, Which makes him so careful. Laurie comes naturally by his love of music, For he is like his mother, And I dare say his grandfather fears that he may want to be a musician. At any rate, His skill reminds him of the woman he did not like. And so he glowered, As Joe said. Dear me, How romantic! Exclaimed Meg. How silly, Said Joe. Let him be a musician if he wants to, And not plague his life out sending him to college, When he hates to go. That's why he has such handsome black eyes and pretty manners, I suppose. Italians are always nice, Said Meg, Who was a little sentimental. What do you know about his eyes and his manners? You never spoke to him hardly, Cried Joe, Who was not sentimental. I saw him at the party, And what you tell shows that he knows how to behave. That was a nice little speech about the medicine mother sent him. He meant the Blancmange, I suppose. Oh, How stupid you are, Child. He meant you, Of course. Did he? And Jo opened her eyes as if it had never occurred to her before. I never saw such a girl. You don't know a compliment when you get it, " said Meg, With the air of a young lady who knew all about the matter. I think they are a great nonsense, And I'll thank you not to be silly and spoil my fun. Laurie's a nice boy, And I like him, And I won't have any sentimental stuff about compliments and such rubbish. We'll all be good to him because he hasn't got any mother, And he might come over and see us, Mightn't he mommy? Yes, Joe, Your little friend is very welcome. And I hope Meg will remember that children should be children as long as they can. I don't call myself a child, And I'm not in my teens yet, " observed Amy. What do you say, Beth? I was thinking about our pilgrim's progress, " answered Beth, Who had not heard a word. How we got out of the slough and through the wicked gate by resolving to be good. And up the steep hill by trying. And that maybe, The house over there, Full of splendid things, Is going to be our palace beautiful. We've got to get by the lions first, " said Jo, As if she rather liked the prospect. Chapter 6 Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful The big house did prove a palace beautiful, Though it took some time for all to get in, And Beth found it very hard to pass the lions. Old Mr. Lawrence was the biggest one. But, After he had called, Said something funny or kind to each one of the girls, And talked over old times with their mother, Nobody felt much afraid of him, Except timid Beth. The other lion was the fact that they were poor and Laurie was rich, For this made them shy of accepting favours which they could not return. But after a while, They found that he considered them the benefactors, And could not do enough to show how grateful he was for Mrs. March's motherly welcome, Their cheerful society, And the comfort he took in that humble home of theirs. So they soon forgot their pride and interchanged kindnesses without stopping to think which was the greater. All sorts of pleasant things happened about that time, For new friendship flourished like grass in spring. Everyone liked Laurie, And he privately informed his tutor that the marches were regularly splendid girls. With the delightful enthusiasm of youth, They took the solitary boy into their midst and made much of him. And he found something very charming in the innocent companionship of these simple-hearted girls. Never having known mother or sisters, He was quick to feel the influences they brought about him, And their busy, Lively ways made him ashamed of the indolent life he had led. He was tired of books and found people so interesting now that Mr. Brooke was obliged to make very unsatisfactory reports, For Laurie was always playing truant and running over to the marches. Never mind, Let him take a holiday and make it up afterward, " said the old gentleman. The good lady next door says he is studying too hard and needs young society, Amusement and exercise. I suspect she is right, And that I've been coddling the fellow as if I'd been his grandmother. Let him do what he likes, As long as he is happy. He can't get into mischief in that little nunnery over there, And Mrs March is doing more for him than we can. What good times they had, To be sure! Such plays and tableaux, Such sleigh-rides and skating frolics, Such pleasant evenings in the old parlour. And now and then such gay little parties at the great house. Meg could walk in the conservatory whenever she liked and revel in bouquets. Jo browsed over the new library voraciously and convulsed the old gentleman with her criticisms. Amy copied pictures and enjoyed beauty to her heart's content. And Laurie played Lord of the Manor in the most delightful style. But Beth, Though yearning for the grand piano, Could not pluck up the courage to go to the Mansion of Bliss, As Meg called it. She went once with Joe, But the old gentleman, Not being aware of her infirmity, Stared at her so hard from under his heavy eyebrows, And said, Hey, So loud, That he frightened her so much, Her feet chattered on the floor, She told her mother, And she ran away, Declaring that she would never go there anymore, Not even for the dear piano. No persuasions or enticements could overcome her fear, Till the fact coming to Mr. Lawrence's ear in some mysterious way, He set about mending matters. During one of the brief calls he made, He artfully led the conversation to music. And talked away about great singers he had seen. Fine organs he had heard. And told such charming anecdotes that Beth found it impossible to stay in her distant corner, But crept nearer and nearer, As if fascinated. At the back of his chair, She stopped and stood listening with her great eyes wide open and her cheeks red with excitement of this unusual performance. Taking no more notice of her than if she had been a fly, Mr. Lawrence talked on about Laurie's lessons and teachers. And, Presently, As if the idea had just occurred to him, He said to Mrs. March, The boy neglects his music now, And I'm glad of it, For he was getting too fond of it. But the piano suffers for want of use. Wouldn't some of your girls like to run over and practice on it now and then? Just to keep it in tune, You know, Mum? Beth took a step forward and pressed her hands tightly together to keep from clapping them, For this was an irresistible temptation, And the thought of practicing on that splendid instrument quite took her breath away. Before Mrs. March could reply, Mr. Lawrence went on with an odd little nod and smile. They needn't see or speak to anyone, But run in at any time, For I'm shut up in my study at the other end of the house. Laurie is out a great deal, And the servants are never near the drawing room after nine o'clock. Here he rose as if going, And Beth made up her mind to speak. For that last arrangement left nothing to be desired. Please tell the young ladies what I say. And if they don't care to come, Why never mind? Here a little hand slipped into his, And Beth looked up at him with a face full of gratitude, As she said in her earnest yet timid way, Oh sir, They do care very, Very much. Are you the musical girl? " he asked, Without any startling hay, As he looked down at her very kindly. I'm Beth, I love it dearly, And I'll come if you are quite sure nobody will hear me and be disturbed, " she added, Fearing to be rude, And trembling at her own boldness as she spoke. Not a soul, My dear. The house is empty half the day, So come and drum away as much as you like, And I shall be obliged to you. How kind you are, Sir. " Beth blushed like a rose under the friendly look he wore, But she was not frightened now and gave the big hand a grateful squeeze because she had no words to thank him for the precious gift he had given her. The old gentleman softly stroked the hair off her forehead, And, Stooping down, He kissed her, Saying, In a tone few people ever heard. I had a little girl once with eyes like these. God bless you, My dear. Good day, Madam, And away he went in a great hurry. Beth had a rapture with her mother, And then rushed up to impart the glorious news to her family of invalids, As the girls were not at home. How blithely she sung that evening, And how they all laughed at her because she woke Amy in the night by playing the piano on her face in her sleep. Next day, Having seen both the old and young gentleman out of the house, Beth, After two or three retreats, Fairly got in at the side door, And made her way as noiselessly as any mouse to the drawing room, Where her idol stood. Quite by accident, Of course, Some pretty easy music lay on the piano. And with trembling fingers and frequent stops to listen and look about, Beth at last touched the great instrument and straightaway forgot her fear herself. And everything else but the unspeakable delight which the music gave her, For it was like the voice of a beloved friend. She stayed till Hannah came to take her home to dinner, But she had no appetite and could only sit and smile upon everyone in a general state of beatitude. After that, The little brown hood slipped through the hedge nearly every day, And the great drawing-room was haunted by a tuneful spirit that came and went unseen. She never knew that Mr. Lawrence often opened his study door to hear the old-fashioned airs he liked. She never saw Laurie mount guard in the hall to warn the servants away. She never suspected that the exercise books and new songs which she found in the rack were put there for her a special benefit. And when he talked to her about music at home, She only thought how kind he was to tell things that helped her so much. So, She enjoyed herself heartily, And found what isn't always the case, That her granted wish was all she had hoped for. Perhaps it was because she was so grateful for this blessing that a greater was given her. At any rate, She deserved both. Mother, I'm going to work Mr. Lawrence a pair of slippers. He is so kind to me, I must thank him, And I don't know any other way. Can I do it? " asked Beth a few weeks after that eventful call of his. Yes, Dear, It will please him very much, And be a nice way of thanking him. The girls will help you about them, And I will pay for the making up, " replied Mrs. March, Who took peculiar pleasure in granting Beth's requests, Because she so seldom asked anything for herself. After many serious discussions with Meg and Joe, The pattern was chosen, The materials bought, And the slippers begun. A cluster of grave yet cheerful pansies on a deeper purple ground was pronounced very appropriate and pretty, And Beth worked away early and late, With occasional lifts over hard parts. She was a nimble little needlewoman, And they were finished before anyone got tired of them. Then she wrote a very short, Simple note, And with Laurie's help, Got them smuggled onto the study table one morning before the old gentleman was up. When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen All that day passed, And a part of the next before any acknowledgement arrived, And she was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety friend. On the afternoon of the second day, She went out to do an errand and give poor Joanna, The invalid doll, Her daily exercise. As she came up the street on her return, She saw three, Yes four, Heads popping in and out of the parlor windows. And the moment they saw her, Several hands were waved and several joyful voices screamed. Here's a letter from the old gentleman, Come quick and read it. Oh, Beth, He sent you, " began Amy, Gesticulating with unseemly energy. But she got no further, For Joe quenched her by slumming down the window. Beth hurried on in a twitter of suspense. At the door, Her sisters seized and bore her to the parlour in a triumphal procession, All pointing and all saying at once, Look there! Look there! Beth did look, And turned pale with delight and surprise, For there stood a little cabinet piano, With a letter lying on the glossy lid, Directed like a signboard. To Miss Elizabeth March. For me, Gasped Beth, Holding on to Joe, And feeling as if she should tumble down, It was such an overwhelming thing altogether. Yes, All for you, My precious. Isn't it splendid of him? Don't you think he's the dearest old man in the world? Here's the key in the letter. We didn't open it, But we are dying to know what he says, " cried Jo, Hugging her sister and offering the note. You read it. I can't. I feel so queer. Oh, It's too lovely. " And Beth hid her face in Joe's apron, Quite upset by her present. Jo opened the paper and began to laugh, For the first words she saw were, Miss March Dear Madam How nice it sounds! I wish someone would write to me so, " said Amy, Who thought the old-fashioned address very elegant. I have had many pairs of slippers in my life, But I never had any that suited me so well as yours, " continued Joe. Heartseize is my favorite flower, And these will always remind me of the gentle giver. I like to pay my debts, So I know you will allow this old gentleman to send you something which once belonged to the little granddaughter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain your grateful friend and humble servant, James Lawrence. There, Beth, That's an honor to be proud of, I'm sure. Laurie told me how fond Mr. Lawrence used to be of the child who died, And how he kept all her little things carefully. Just think, He's given you her piano! That comes of having big blue eyes and loving music, " said Joe, Trying to soothe Beth, Who trembled and looked more excited than she had ever been before. See the cunning brackets to hold candles, And the nice green silk puckered up with a gold rose in the middle, And the pretty rack and stool, All complete, " added Meg, Opening the instrument and displaying its beauties. Your humble servant, James Lawrence, Only think of his writing that to you. " I'll tell the girls, They'll think it's killing, " said Amy, Much impressed by the note. Try it, Honey. Let's hear the sound of the baby peony, " said Hannah, Who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows. So Beth tried it, And everyone pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple pie order. But, Perfect as it was, I think the real charm of it lay in the happiest of all happy faces which leaned over it as Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the shiny pedals. You'll have to go and thank him, " said Joe, By way of a joke, For the idea of the child really going never entered her head. Yes, I mean to. I guess I'll go now, Before I get frightened thinking about it. And to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, Through the hedge, And in at the Lawrence's door. Well, I wish I may die if it ain't the queerest thing I ever see. " The peony has turned her head. She'd never have gone in her right mind, Cried Hannah, Staring after her, While the girls were rendered quite speechless by the miracle. They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did afterward. If you will believe me, She went and knocked at the study door before she gave herself time to think. And when a gruff voice called out, Come in, She did go in, Right up to Mr. Lawrence, Who looked quite taken aback. And held out her hand, Saying with only a small quiver in her voice, I came to thank you, Sir, For. . . " But she didn't finish, For he looked so friendly that she forgot her speech, And, Only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, She put both arms round his neck and kissed him. If the roof of the house had suddenly flown off, The old gentleman wouldn't have been more astonished. But he liked it. Oh dear, Yes, He liked it amazingly. And was so touched and pleased by that confiding little kiss that all his crustiness vanished, And he just sat her on his knee and laid his wrinkled cheek against her rosy one, Feeling as if he had got his own little granddaughter back again. Beth ceased to fear him from that moment, And sat there talking to him as cosily as if she had known him all her life. For love casts out fear, And gratitude can conquer pride. When she went home, He walked with her to her own gate, Shook hands cordially, And touched his hat as he marched back again, Looking very stately, Like a handsome, Soldiery old gentleman, As he was. When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig by way of expressing her satisfaction. Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise, And Meg exclaimed with uplifted hands, Well, I do believe the world is coming to an end. Chapter 7. Amy's Valley of Humiliation That boy is a perfect cyclops, Isn't he? " said Amy, One day, As Laurie clattered by on horseback, With a flourish of his whip as he passed. How dare you say so, When he's got both his eyes? And very handsome ones they are too, Cried Jo, Who resented any slighting remarks about her friend. I didn't say anything about his eyes, And I don't see why you need to fire up when I admire his riding. Oh my goodness, The little goose means a centaur and she called him a cyclops, Exclaimed Joe with a burst of laughter. You needn't be so rude. It's only a lapse of lingy, As Mr. Davis says, " retorted Amy, Finishing Jo with her Latin. I just wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse, " she added, As if to herself, Yet hoping her sisters would hear. Why? Asked Mech kindly, For Joe had gone off in another laugh at Amy's second blunder. I need it so much, I'm dreadfully in debt, And it won't be my turn to have the rag money for a month. In debt? Amy, What do you mean? And Meg looked sober. Why i owe at least a dozen pickled limes and i can't pay them you know till i have money for mommy forbid my having anything charged at the shop Tell me about it. Are limes the fashion now? It used to be pricking bits of rubber to make balls, And Meg tried to keep her countenance. Amy looked so grave and important. Why, You see, The girls are always buying them. And unless you want to be thought mean, You must do it too. It's nothing but limes now, For everyone is sucking them in their desks in school time, And trading them off for pencils, Bead rings, Paper dolls, Or something else at recess. If one girl likes another, She gives her a lime. If she's mad with her, She eats one before her face and doesn't offer even a sup. They treat by turns, And I've had ever so many, But haven't returned them. And I ought, For they are debts of honour, You know. " How much will pay them off and restore your credit? " asked Meg, Taking out her purse. A quarter would more than do it, And leave a few cents over for a treat for you. Don't you like limes? Not much, You may have my share. Here's the money, Make it last as long as you can, For it isn't very plenty you know. Oh, Thank you. It must be so nice to have pocket money. I'll have a grand feast, For I haven't tasted a lime this week. " I felt delicate about taking any, As I couldn't return them. And I'm actually suffering for one. The next day, Amy was rather late at school, But could not resist the temptation of displaying, With pardonable pride, A moist brown paper parcel before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk. During the next few minutes, The rumor that Amy March had got 24 delicious limes, She ate one on the way, And was going to treat, Circulated through her set, And the attentions of her friends became quite overwhelming. Katie Brown invited her to her next party on the spot. Mary Kingsley insisted on lending her her watch till recess. And Jenny Snow, A satirical young lady who had basely twitted Amy upon her limeless state, Promptly buried the hatchet and offered to furnish answers to certain appalling sums. But Amy had not forgotten Miss Snow's cutting remarks about some persons whose noses were not too flat to smell other people's limes. And stuck up people who were not too proud to ask for them. And she instantly crushed that snow girl's hopes by the withering telegram. You needn't be so polite all of a sudden, For you won't get any. A distinguished personage happened to visit the school that morning, And Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise, Which honor to her foe, Rankled in the soul of Miss Snow. And caused Miss March to assume the heirs of a studious young peacock. But alas, Alas, Pride goes before a fall, And the revengeful snow turned the tables with disastrous success. No sooner had the guest paid the usual stale compliments and bowed himself out, Than Jenny, Under pretense of asking an important question, Informed Mr. Davis, The teacher, That Amy March had pickled limes in her desk. Now Mr. Davis had declared Lyme's a contraband article, And solemnly vowed to publicly forrule the first person who was found breaking the law. This much enduring man had succeeded in banishing gum after a long and stormy war. Had made a bonfire of the confiscated novels and newspapers, Had suppressed a private post office. Had forbidden distortions of the face, Nicknames and caricatures, And done all that one man could do to keep half a hundred rebellious girls in order. Boys are trying enough to human patients, Goodness knows, But girls are infinitely more so, Especially to nervous gentlemen with tyrannical tempers and no more talent for teaching than Dr. Blimba. Mr. Davis knew any quantity of Greek, Latin, Algebra, And Ologies of all sorts, So he was called a fine teacher. And manners, Morals, Feelings and examples were not considered of any particular importance. It was a most unfortunate moment for denouncing Amy, And Jenny knew it. Mr. Davis had evidently taken his coffee too strong that morning. There was an east wind which always affected his neuralgia, And his pupils had not done him the credit which he felt he deserved. Therefore, To use the expressive, If not elegant, Language of a schoolgirl, He was as nervous as a witch and as cross as a bear. The word limes was like fire to powder. His yellow face flushed, And he rapped on his desk with an energy which made Jenny skip to her seat with unusual rapidity. Young ladies, Attention, If you please. At the stern order, The buzz ceased, And fifty pairs of blue, Black, Grey, And brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awful countenance. Miss March, Come to the desk. Amy rose to comply with outward composure, But a secret fear oppressed her, For the limes weighed upon her conscience. To bring with you the limes you have in your desk was the unexpected command which arrested her before she got out of her seat. Don't take all, " whispered her neighbor, A young lady of great presence of mind. Amy hastily shook out half a dozen and laid the rest down before Mr. Davis, Feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relent when that delicious perfume met his nose Unfortunately, Mr. Davis particularly detested the odor of the fashionable pickle, And disgust added to his wrath. Is that all? Not quite, Stammered Amy. Bring the rest immediately. With a despairing glance at her set, She obeyed. You are sure there are no more. I never lie, Sir. So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two and throw them out of the window. There was a simultaneous sigh, Which created quite a little gust as the last hope fled, And the treat was ravished from their longing lips. Scarlet with shame and anger, Amy went to and fro twelve mortal times, As each doomed couple, Looking oh so plump and juicy, Fell from her reluctant hands. A shout from the street completed the anguish of the girls, For it told them that their feast was being exalted over by the little Irish children, Who were their sworn foes. This, This was too much. All flashed indignant or appealing glances at the inexorable Davis, And one passionate lime-lover burst into tears. As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr Davies gave a portentous hemp. And set in his most impressive manner. Young ladies, You remember what I said to you a week ago? I am sorry this has happened, But I never allow my rules to be infringed, And I never break my word. Miss March? Hold out your hand. Amy started and put both hands behind her, Turning on him an imploring look which pleaded for her better than the words she could not utter. She was rather a favourite with old Davies, As of course he was called, And it's my private belief that he would have broken his word if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had not found vent in a hiss. That hiss, Faint as it was, Irritated the irascible gentleman and sealed the culprit's fate. Your hand, Miss March, Was the only answer her mute appeal received. And, Too proud to cry or beseech, Amy set her teeth, Threw back her head defiantly, And bore without flinching several tingling blows on her little palm. Were neither many nor heavy, But that made no difference to her. For the first time in her life, She had been struck, And the disgrace in her eyes was as deep as if he had knocked her down. You will now stand on the platform till recess, " said Mr. Davis, Resolved to do the thing thoroughly since he had begun. That was dreadful. It would have been bad enough to go to her seat and see the pitying faces of her friends or the satisfied ones of her few enemies. But to face the whole school with that shame fresh upon her seemed impossible, And for a second she felt as if she could only drop down where she stood and break her heart with crying. A bitter sense of wrong and the thought of Jenny Snow helped her to bear it. And taking the ignominious place, She fixed her eyes on the stove funnel above what now seemed a sea of faces, And stood there so motionless and white that the girls found it very hard to study with the pathetic little figure before them. During the 15 minutes that followed, The proud and sensitive little girl suffered a shame and pain which she never forgot. To others it might seem a ludicrous or trivial affair, But to her it was a hard experience, For during the twelve years of her life she had been governed by love alone, And a blow of that sort had never touched her before. The smart of her hand and the ache of her heart were forgotten in the sting of the thought. I shall have to tell at home and they will be so disappointed in me. The fifteen minutes seemed an hour, But they came to an end at last, And the word recess had never seemed so welcome to her before. You can go, Miss March, " said Mr. Davis, Looking as he felt uncomfortable. He did not soon forget the reproachful look Amy gave him as she went without a word to anyone straight into the ante-room, Snatched her things, And left the place forever as she passionately declared to herself. She was in a sad state when she got home, And when the other girls arrived, Some time later, An indignation meeting was held at once. Mrs. March did not say much, But looked disturbed and comforted her afflicted little daughter in her tenderest manner. Meg bathed the insulted hand with glycerin and tears. Beth felt that even her beloved kittens would fail as a balm for griefs like this, And Joe wrathfully proposed that Mr. Davis be arrested without delay, While Hannah shook her fist at the villain and pounded it potatoes for dinner as if she had him under her pestle. No notice was taken of Amy's flight, Except by her mates, But the sharp-eyed demoiselles discovered that Mr. Davis was quite benignant in the afternoons. Also unusually nervous. Just before school closed, Jo appeared wearing a grim expression as she stalked up to the desk and delivered a letter from her mother. Then collected Amy's property and departed. Carefully scraping the mud from her boots on the doormat, As if she shook the dust of the place off her feet. Yes, You can have a vacation from school, But I want you to study a little every day with Beth, " said Mrs. March that evening. I don't approve of corporal punishment, Especially for girls. I dislike Mr. Davis's manner of teaching, And don't think the girls you associate with are doing you any good. So I shall ask your father's advice before I send you anywhere else. That's good. I wish all the girls would leave and spoil his old school. It's perfectly maddening to think of those lovely limes, " sighed Amy, With the air of a martyr. I am not sorry you lost them, For you broke the rules and deserved some punishment for disobedience, " was the severe reply, Which rather disappointed the young lady, Who expected nothing but sympathy. Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the whole school? " cried Amy. I should not have chosen that way of mending a fault, Replied her mother, But I'm not sure that it won't do you more good than a milder method. You are getting to be altogether too conceited and important, My dear, And it is quite time you set about correcting it. You have a good many little gifts and virtues, But there is no need of parading them, For conceit spoils the finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked for long. Even if it is, The consciousness of possessing and using it well should satisfy one. And the great charm of all power is modesty. So it is, Cried Laurie, Who was playing chess in a corner with Joe. I knew a girl once who had a really remarkable talent for music, And she didn't know it. Never guessed what sweet little things she composed when she was alone, And wouldn't have believed it if anyone told her. I wish I'd known that nice girl, Maybe she would have helped me. I'm so stupid, Said Beth, Who stood behind him, Listening eagerly. You do know her. And she helps you better than anyone else could, " answered Laurie, Looking at her with such mischievous meaning in his merry black eyes, That Beth suddenly turned very red and hid her face in the sofa cushion, Quite overcome by such an unexpected discovery. Joe let Laurie win the game, To pay for that praise of her Beth, Who could not be prevailed upon to play for them after her compliment. So Laurie did his best, And sung delightfully, Being in a particularly lively humor, For to the marches he seldom showed the moody side of his character. When he was gone, Amy, Who had been pensive all the evening, Said suddenly, As if busy over some new idea, Is Laurie an accomplished boy? Yes, He has had an excellent education and has much talent. He will make a fine man, If not spoiled by petting, " replied her mother. And he isn't conceited, Is he? " asked Amy. Not in the least. That is why he is so charming and we all like him so much. I see. It's nice to have accomplishments and be elegant, But not to show off or get perked up, " said Amy thoughtfully. These things are always seen and felt in a person's manner and conversation, If modestly used. But it is not necessary to display them, " said Mrs. March. Any more than it's proper to wear all your bonnets and gowns and ribbons at once, That folks may know you've got them, " added Joe, And the lecture ended in a laugh. Chapter 8 Joe meets Apollyon. Girls, Where are you going? Asked Amy, Coming into their room one Saturday afternoon, And finding them getting ready to go out, With an air of secrecy which excited her curiosity. Never mind, Little girls shouldn't ask questions, Returned Joe sharply. Now if there is anything mortifying to our feelings when we are young, It is to be told that. And to be bidden to run away, Dear, Is still more trying to us. Amy bridled up at this insult, And determined to find out the secret if she teased for an hour. Turning to Meg, Who never refused her anything very long, She said coaxingly, Do tell me. I should think you might let me go too, For Beth is fussing over her dolls, And I haven't got anything to do, And I am so lonely. I can't, Dear, Because you aren't invited, " began Meg, But Joe broke in impatiently. Now, Meg, Be quiet, Or you will spoil it all. You can't go, Amy, So don't be a baby and whine about it. You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are. You were whispering and laughing together on the sofa last night, And you stopped when I came in. Are you going with him? Yes, We are. Now do be still and stop bothering. Amy held her tongue, But used her eyes and saw Meg slip a fan into her pocket. I know, You're going to the theatre to see the seven castles, " she cried, Adding resolutely, And I shall go, For mother said I might see it, And I've got my rag money, And it was mean not to tell me in time. Just listen to me a minute and be a good child, " said Meg, Soothingly. Mother doesn't wish you to go this week, Because your eyes are not well enough yet to bear the light of this fairy piece. Next week you can go with Beth and Hannah and have a nice time. I don't like that half as well as going with you and Laurie. Please let me. I've been sick with this cold so long, And shut up. I'm dying for some fun. Do Meg, I'll be ever so good, Pleaded Amy, Looking as pathetic as she could. Suppose we take her. I don't believe mother would mind if we bundle her up well, " began Meg. If she goes, I shan't. And if I don't, Laurie won't like it. And it will be very rude after he invited only us to go and drag in Amy. I should think she'd hate to poke herself where she isn't wanted, " said Jo crossly, For she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child when she wanted to enjoy herself. Her tone and manner angered Amy, Who began to put her boots on, Saying in her most aggravating way, I shall go. Meg says I may, And if I pay for myself, Laurie hasn't anything to do with it. You can't sit with us, For our seats are reserved, And you mustn't sit alone, So Laurie will give you his place, And that will spoil our pleasure. Or he'll get another seat for you. And that isn't proper when you weren't asked. You shan't stir a step, So you may just stay where you are, " scolded Jo, Crosser than ever, Having just pricked her finger in a hurry. Sitting on the floor with one boot on, Amy began to cry and Meg to reason with her, When Laurie called from below. And the two girls hurried down, Leaving their sister wailing. For now and then, She forgot her grown-up ways and acted like a spoiled child. Just as the party was setting out, Amy called over the banisters in a threatening tone. You'll be sorry for this, Joe March. See if you ain't. Fiddle sticks, Returned Joe, Slamming the door. They had a charming time, For the seven castles of the Diamond Lake were as brilliant and wonderful as a heart could wish. But in spite of the comical red imps, Sparkling elves, And gorgeous princes and princesses, Joe's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it. The fairy queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy. And between the acts, She amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her sorry for it. She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, For both had quick tempers and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Joe, And Joe irritated Amy, And semi-occasional explosions occurred, Of which both were much ashamed afterwards. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, And had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit, Which was continually getting her into trouble. Her anger never lasted long, And having humbly confessed her fault, She sincerely repented and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury, Because she was such an angel afterward. Poor Jo tried desperately to be good, But her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her, And it took years of patient effort to subdue it. When they got home, They found Amy reading in the parlor. She assumed an injured air as they came in, Never lifted her eyes from her book or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment if Beth had not been there to inquire and receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's first look was toward the bureau, For in their last quarrel, Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down. Everything was in its place, However, And after a hasty glance into her various closets, Bags and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs. There, Jo was mistaken, For next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth and Amy were sitting together late in the afternoon when Joe burst into the room looking excited and demanding breathlessly. Has anyone taken my story? Megan Beth said no at once and looked surprised. Amy poked the fire and said nothing. Jo saw her color rise and was down upon her in a minute. Amy, You've got it. No, I haven't. You know where it is then. No, I don't. That's a fib! " cried Joe, Taking her by the shoulders, And looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy. It isn't. I haven't got it. Don't know where it is now, And don't care. You know something about it, And you'd better tell me at once, Or I'll make you. " And Joe gave her a slight shake. Scold as much as you like, You'll never get your silly old story again, " cried Amy, Getting excited in her turn. Why not? I burnt it up. What? My little book I was so fond of, And worked over, And meant to finish before father got home. Have you really burnt it? " said Jo, Turning very pale, While her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously. Again and I'll never forgive you as long as I live. Meg flew to rescue Amy and Beth to pacify Jo, But Jo was quite beside herself, And with a parting box on her sister's ear, She rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret and finished her fight alone. The storm cleared up below, For Mrs. March came home, And having heard the story, Soon brought Amy to a sense of the wrong she had done her sister. Jo's book was the pride of her heart and was regarded by her family as a literary sprout of great promise. It was only half a dozen little fairy tales, But Jo had worked over them patiently, Putting her whole heart into her work, Hoping to make something good enough to print. She had just copied them with great care and had destroyed the old manuscript, So that Amy's bonfire had consumed the loving work of several years. It seemed a small loss to others, But to Joe it was a dreadful calamity. And she felt that it never could be made up to her. Beth mourned as for a departed kitten and Meg refused to defend her pet. Mrs. March looked grave and grieved, And Amy felt that no one would love her till she asked pardon for the act, Which she now regretted more than any of them. When the t-bell rung, Jo appeared, Looking so grim and unapproachable that it took all Amy's courage to say, Meekly, Please forgive me, Jo. I'm very, Very sorry. I never shall forgive you, Was Jo's stern answer, And from that moment, She ignored Amy entirely. No one spoke of the great trouble, Not even Mrs. March, For all had learned by experience that when Jo was in that mood, Words were wasted, And the wisest course was to wait till some little accident, Or her own generous nature softened Jo's resentment and healed the breach. It was not a happy evening, For though they sewed as usual while their mother read aloud from Bremer, Scott or Edgeworth, Something was wanting and the sweet home peace was disturbed. They felt this most when singing time came, For Beth could only play. Joe stood dumb as a stone, And Amy broke down, So Meg and Mother sung alone. But in spite of their efforts to be as cheery as larks, The flute-like voices did not seem to chord as well as usual, And all felt out of tune. As Jo received her goodnight kiss, Mrs March whispered gently. My dear, Don't let the sun go down upon your anger forgive each other, Help each other and begin again tomorrow. Joe wanted to lay her head down on that motherly bosom and cry her grief and anger all away. But tears were an unmanly weakness, And she felt so deeply injured that she really couldn't quite forgive yet. So she winked hard, Shook her head, And said, Gruffly, Because Amy was listening, Bed and there was no merry or confidential gossip that night. Amy was much offended that her overtures of peace had been repulsed, And began to wish she had not humbled herself to feel more injured than ever, And to plume herself on her superior virtue in a way which was particularly exasperating. Joe still looked like a thundercloud, And nothing went well all day. It was bitter cold in the morning. She dropped her precious turnover in the gutter. Aunt March had an attack of fidgets, Meg was pensive, Beth would look grieved and wistful when she got home, And Amy kept making remarks about people who were always talking about being good and yet wouldn't try when other people set them a virtuous example. Everybody is so hateful. I'll ask Laurie to go skating. He is always kind and jolly and will put me to rights, I know, " said Jo to herself. And off she went. Amy heard the clash of skates and looked out with an impatient exclamation. She promised I should go next time, For this is the last ice we shall have. But it's no use to ask such a cross patch to take me. Don't say that, You were very naughty, And it is hard to forgive the loss of her precious little book. But I think she might do it now, And I guess she will, If you try her at the right minute, " said Meg. Go after them. Don't say anything till Joe has got good natured with Laurie. Then take a quiet minute and just kiss her, Or do some kind thing, And I'm sure she'll be friends again with all her heart. I'll try, " said Amy, For the advice suited her. And after a flurry to get ready, She ran after the friends who were just disappearing over the hill. It was not far to the river, But both were ready before Amy reached them. Jo saw her coming and turned her back. Laurie did not see, For he was carefully skating along the shore, Sounding the ice, For a warm spell had preceded the cold snap. I'll go on to the first bend and see if it's alright before we begin to race, " Amy heard him say as he shot away looking like a young Russian in his fur-trimmed coat and cap. Jo heard Amy panting after her run, Stamping her feet and blowing her fingers as she tried to put her skates on. But Joe never turned and went slowly zigzagging down the river. Taking a bitter, Unhappy sort of satisfaction in her sister's troubles. She had cherished her anger till it grew strong and took possession of her, As evil thoughts and feelings always do, Unless cast out at once. As Laurie turned the bend, He shouted back, Keep near the shore, It isn't safe in the middle. Joe heard, But Amy was just struggling to her feet and did not catch a word. Jo glanced over her shoulder and the little demon she was harboring set in her ear. No matter whether she heard or not, Let her take care of herself. Laurie had vanished round the bend, Joe was just at the turn, And Amy far behind, Striking out toward the smoother ice in the middle of the river. For a minute, Jo stood still with a strange feeling at her heart. Then she resolved to go on. But something held her and turned her around, Just in time to see Amy throw up her hands and go down with a sudden crash of rotten ice, The splash of water, And a cry that made Joe's heart stand still with fear. She tried to call Laurie, But her voice was gone. She tried to rush forward, But her feet seemed to have no strength in them. And for a second, She could only stand motionless, Staring with a terror-stricken face at the little blue hood above the black water. Something rushed swiftly by her, And Laurie's voice cried out, Bring a rail, Quick, Quick! How she did it she never knew, But for the next few minutes she worked as if possessed, Blindly obeying Laurie, Who was quite self-possessed, And, Lying flat, Held Amy up by his arm till Joe dragged a rail from the fence. And together they got the child out, More frightened than hurt. Now then, We must walk her home as fast as we can. Pile our things on her while I get off these confounded skates, " cried Laurie, Wrapping his coat around Amy, And tugging away at the straps, Which never seemed so intricate before. Shivering, Dripping, And crying, They got Amy home. And after an exciting time of it, She fell asleep, Rolled in blankets before a hot fire. During the bustle, Jo had scarcely spoken, But flown about, Looking pale and wild, With her things half off, Her dress torn, And her hands cut and bruised by ice and rails. When Amy was comfortably asleep, The house quiet and Mrs. March sitting by the bed, She called Joe to her and began to bind up the hurt hands. Are you sure she is safe? " whispered Jo, Looking remorsefully at the golden head, Which might have been swept away from her sight forever under the treacherous ice. Quite safe, Dear. She is not hurt, And won't even take cold, I think. You were so sensible in covering and getting her home quickly, Replied her mother cheerfully. Laurie did it all, I only let her go. Mother, If she should die, It would be my fault. And Jo dropped down beside the bed in a passion of penitent tears, Telling all that had happened, Bitterly condemning her hardness of heart, And sobbing out her gratitude for being spared the heavy punishment which might have come upon her. It's my dreadful temper. I try to cure it, I think I have, And then it breaks out worse than ever. Oh mother, What shall I do? Cried poor Joe in despair. Watch and pray, Dear. Never get tired of trying, And never think it is impossible to conquer your fault, " said Mrs. March, Drawing the blousy head to her shoulder and kissing the wet cheek so tenderly that Jo cried harder than ever. You don't know. You can't guess how bad it is. It seems as if I could do anything when I'm in a passion. I get so savage. I could hurt anyone and enjoy it. I'm afraid I shall do something dreadful someday, And spoil my life, And make everybody hate me. Oh mother, Help me. Do help me. I will, My child, I will. Don't cry so bitterly, But remember this day and resolve with all your soul that you will never know another like it. Joe, Dear, We all have our temptations, Some far greater than yours, And it often takes us all our lives to conquer them. You think your temper is the worst in the world, But mine used to be just like it. Yours mother, Why you are never angry. And for the moment, Joe forgot remorse in surprise. I have been trying to cure it for 40 years, And have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Joe, But I have learned not to show it, And I still hope to learn not to feel it, Though it may take me another 40 years to do so. The patience and the humility of the face she loved so well was a better lesson to Jo than the wisest lecture or the sharpest reproof. She felt comforted at once by the sympathy and confidence given her. The knowledge that her mother had a fault like hers and tried to mend it made her own easier to bear and strengthened her resolution to cure it. Though 40 years seemed rather a long time to watch and pray to a girl of 15. Mother, Are you angry when you fold your lips tight together and go out of the room sometimes when Aunt March scolds or people worry you? Ask Jo, Feeling nearer and dearer to her mother than ever before. Yes, I've learned to check the hasty words that rise to my lips, And when I feel that they mean to break out against my will, I just go away for a minute and give myself a little shake for being so weak and wicked. Said Miss March, With a sigh and a smile as she smoothed and fastened up Joe's disheveled hair. How did you learn to keep still? That is what troubles me, For the sharp words fly out before I know what I'm about. And the more I say, The worse I get, Till it's a pleasure to hurt people's feelings and say dreadful things. Tell me how you do it, Mommy dear. My good mother used to help me. As you do us, " interrupted Joe with a grateful kiss. But I lost her when I was a little older than you are, And for years had to struggle on alone, For I was too proud to confess my weakness to anyone else. I had a hard time, Joe, And shed a good many bitter tears over my failures, For in spite of my efforts, I never seemed to get on. Then your father came, And I was so happy that I found it easy to be good. But by and by, When I had four little daughters round me, And we were poor, Then the old trouble began again, For I am not patient by nature, And it tried me very much to see my children wanting anything. Poor mother, What helped you then? Your father joe. He never loses patience, Never doubts or complains, But always hopes and works and waits so cheerfully that one is ashamed to do otherwise for him. He helped and comforted me, And showed me that I must try to practice all the virtues I would have my little girls possess, For I was their example. It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own. A startled or surprised look from one of you when I spoke sharply rebuked me more than any words could have done. And the love, Respect and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy. Oh mother, If I'm ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied, Cried Joe. I hope you will be a great deal better, Dear, But you must keep watch over your bosom enemy, As father calls it. Or it may sadden, If not spoil, Your life. You have had a warning. Remember it and try with heart and soul to master this quick temper before it brings you greater sorrow and regret than you have known today. I will try, Mother. I truly will. But you must help me. Remind me and keep me from flying out. I used to see father sometimes put his finger on his lips and look at you with a very kind but sober face, And you always folded your lips tight or went away. Was he reminding you then, Asked Joe softly. Yes, I asked him to help me so, And he never forgot it, But saved me from many a sharp word by that little gesture and kind look. Trembled as she spoke, And fearing that she had said too much, She whispered anxiously, Was it wrong to watch you and to speak of it? I didn't mean to be rude, But it's so comfortable to say all I think to you and feel so safe and happy here. My Jo, You may say anything to your mother, For it is my greatest happiness and pride to feel that my girls confide in me and know how much I love them. I thought I'd grieved you. No, Dear, But speaking of father reminded me how much I miss him, How much I owe him, And how faithfully I should watch and work to keep his little daughters safe and good for him. Yet you told him to go, Mother, And didn't cry when he went. And never complain now, Or seem as if you need any help, Said Joe, Wondering. I gave my best to the country I love and kept my tears till he was gone. Why should I complain when we both have merely done our duty and will surely be happier for it in the end? If I don't seem to need help, It is because I have a better friend, Even than father, To comfort and sustain me. My child, The troubles and temptations of your life are beginning, And may be many, But you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your heavenly father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust him, The nearer you will feel to him, And the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, Can never be taken from you, But may become the source of lifelong peace, Happiness and strength. Believe this heartily and go to God with all your little cares and hopes and sins and sorrows as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother. Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close. And in the silence that followed, The sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart without words. For in that sad yet happy hour, She had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, But the sweetness of self-denial and self-control. Led by her mother's hand. She had drawn nearer to the friend who welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father. Tenderer than that of any mother. Amy stirred and sighed in her sleep. And, As if eager to begin at once to mend her fault, Jo looked up with an expression on her face which it had never worn before. I let the sun go down on my anger. I wouldn't forgive her. And today, If it hadn't been for Laurie, It might have been too late. How could I be so wicked? " said Jo, Half aloud, As she leaned over her sister, Softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow. As if she heard, Amy opened her eyes and held out her arms with a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said a word, But they hooked one another close in spite of the blankets, And everything was forgiven. And forgotten in one hearty kiss. You can allow your mind to soften and your imagination to unlock as we begin our story tonight. Aladdin and the magic lamp. There once lived a poor tailor who had a son called Aladdin. A careless, Idle boy who would do nothing but play all day long in the streets with little idle boys like himself. This so grieved the father that he died. Yet, In spite of his mother's tears and prayers, Aladdin did not mend his ways. One day, When he was playing in the streets as usual, A stranger came up and asked him his age, And if he was not the son of Mustafar the tailor. I am, Sir, Replied Aladdin, But he died a long time ago. On this, The stranger, Who was a famous African magician, Fell on his knees and kissed him, Saying, I am your uncle and knew you from your likeness to my brother. Go to your mother and tell her I am coming. Aladdin ran home and told his mother of his newly found uncle. Indeed, Child, She said, Your father had a brother, But I always thought he was dead. However, She prepared supper and bade Aladdin to seek his uncle, Who came laden with wine and fruit. He fell down and kissed the place where Mustafa used to sit, Bidding Aladdin's mother not to be surprised at not having seen him before, As he had been 40 years out of the country. He then turned to Aladdin and asked him his trade, At which the boy hung his head while his mother burst into tears. On learning that Aladdin was idle and would learn no trade, He offered to take a shop for him and stock it with merchandise. The next day, He bought Aladdin a fine suit of clothes and took him all over the city, Showing him the sights. He brought him home at nightfall to his mother, Who was overjoyed to see her son looking so fine. At sunrise, The magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens a long way outside the city gates. They sat down by a fountain, And the magician pulled a cake from his girdle, Which he divided between them. Then they journeyed onwards till they almost reached the mountains. Aladdin was so tired that he begged to go back, But the magician beguiled him with pleasant stories and led him on in spite of himself. At last they came to two mountains divided by a narrow valley. We will go no further, Said his uncle. I will show you something wonderful. Only first, Gather up sticks while I kindle a fire. When it was lit, The magician threw on it a powder he had about him, At the same time saying some magical words. The earth trembled a little in front of them, Disclosing a square flat stone with a brass ring in the middle to raise it by. Aladdin tried to run away, But the magician caught him and gave him a blow that knocked him down. "'What have I done, Uncle? ' he said piteously, Whereupon the magician said more kindly, "'Fear nothing, But obey me. '" Beneath this stone lies a treasure which is to be yours, And no one else may touch it, So you must do precisely as I tell you. At the word treasure, Aladdin forgot his fears and grasped the ring as he was told, Saying the names of his father and grandfather. The stone came up quite easily and some steps appeared. Go down, " said the magician. At the foot of those steps, You will find an open door leading into three large halls. Tuck up your gown and go through them without touching anything, Or you will die instantly. These halls lead into a garden of fine fruit trees. Walk on till you come to a niche in a terrace where stands a lighted lamp. Pour out the oil it contains and bring it to me. " He drew a ring from his finger and gave it to Aladdin, Bidding him prosper. Aladdin found everything as the magician had said, Gathered some fruit off the trees, And having got the lamp, Arrived at the mouth of the cave. The magician cried out in a great hurry, Make haste and give me the lamp. This, Aladdin refused to do until he was out of the cave. The magician flew into a terrible passion, And throwing some more powder onto the fire, He said something, And the stone rolled back into its place. The man left the country, Which plainly showed that he was no uncle of Aladdin's, But a cunning magician who had read in his magic books of a wonderful lamp which would make him the most powerful man in the world. Though he alone knew where to find it, He could only receive it from the hand of another. He had picked out the foolish Aladdin for this purpose, Intending to get the lamp and to kill him afterwards. For two days, Aladdin remained in the dark, Crying and lamenting. At last he clasped his hands in prayer, And in doing so, Rubbed the ring which the magician had forgotten to take back. Immediately, An enormous and frightful genie rose out of the earth, Declaring, What wouldst thou with me? I am the slave of the ring, And will obey thee in all things. Aladdin fearlessly replied, Deliver me from this place. Whereupon the earth opened in a flash, And he found himself outside. As soon as his eyes could bear the light, He trekked home, But he fainted just on the threshold. When he came to, He told his mother what had passed and showed her the lamp and the fruits he had gathered in the garden, Which were, In reality, Precious stones. Then he asked for food. Alas, Child, She said, I have nothing in the house, But I have spun a little cotton and will go sell it. Aladdin bade her keep the cotton, For he would sell the lamp instead. As it was very dirty, She began to rub it in the hopes it might fetch a higher price. Instantly, A hideous genie appeared and asked what she would have. His mother fainted, But Aladdin snatched the lamp and said boldly, Fetch me something to eat. The genie returned with a silver bowl, Twelve silver plates containing rich meats, Two silver cups, And two bottles of wine. Aladdin's mother, When she came to herself, Said, Whence comes this splendid feast? Ask not, But eat, Replied Aladdin. So they sat at breakfast till it was dinner time, And Aladdin told his mother about the lamp. She begged him to sell it and to have nothing to do with devils. No, Said Aladdin, Since chance hath made us aware of its virtues, We will use it and the ring likewise, Which I shall always wear on my finger. When they had eaten all the genie had brought, Aladdin sold one of the silver plates, And so on until none were left. He then had recourse to the genie, Who gave him another set of plates, And thus they lived for many years. One day, Aladdin heard an order from the Sultan proclaimed across the land. Everyone was to stay at home and close their shutters while the princess, His daughter, Went to and from the bath. Aladdin was seized by the desire to see her face, Which was very difficult as she always went veiled. He hid himself behind the door of the bath and peeped through a crack. The princess lifted her veil as she went in, And looked so beautiful that Aladdin fell in love with her at first sight. He went home so changed that his mother was frightened. He told her he loved the princess so deeply and intended to ask her father for her hand in marriage. His mother, On hearing this, Burst out laughing. But Aladdin at last prevailed upon her to go before the Sultan and carry his request. She fetched a napkin and laid in it the magic fruits from the enchanted garden, Which sparkled and shone like the most beautiful jewels. She took these with her to please the Sultan and set out, Trusting in the lamp. The Grand Vizier and the Lords of Council had just gone in as she entered the hall and placed herself in front of the Sultan. He, However, Took no notice of her. She went every day for a week and stood in the same place. When the council broke up on the sixth day, The sultan said to his vizier, I see a southern woman in the audience chamber every day, Carrying something in a napkin call her next time that I may find out what she wants. Next day, At a sign from the Vizier, She went up to the foot of the throne and remained kneeling until the Sultan said to her, Rise, Good woman, And tell me what you want. She hesitated, So the Sultan sent away all but the Vizier and bade her speak freely, Promising to forgive her beforehand for anything she might say. She then told him of her son's love for the princess. I prayed him to forget her, She said, But in vain. He threatened to do some desperate deed if I refused to go and ask your majesty for the hand of the princess. Now I pray you to forgive not me alone, But my son Aladdin. The Sultan asked her kindly what she had in the napkin. Whereupon she unfolded the jewels and presented them. He was thunderstruck, And turning to the vizier, Said, What sayest thou? Ought I not to bestow the princess on one who values her at such a price? The vizier, Who wanted her for his own son, Begged the sultan to withhold her for three months, In the course of which he hoped his son could contrive to make him a richer present. The Sultan granted this, And told Aladdin's mother that, Though he consented to the marriage, She must not appear before him again for three months. Aladdin waited patiently for nearly three months, But after two had elapsed, His mother, Going into the city to buy oil, Found everyone rejoicing, And she asked what was going on. Do you not know, Was the answer, That the son of the Grand Vizier is to marry the Sultan's daughter tonight? Breathless, She ran and told Aladdin, Who was overwhelmed at first, But presently bethought him of the lamp. He rubbed it, And the genie appeared, Saying, What is thy will? Aladdin replied, The sultan as thou knowest has broken his promise to me, And the busiest son is to have the princess. My command is that tonight you bring hither the bride and bridegroom. Master, I obey, Said the genie. Aladdin then went to his chamber, Where, Sure enough, At midnight, The genie transported the bed containing the Vizier's son and the princess. Take this new married man, " he said, And put him outside in the cold, And return at daybreak. Whereupon the genie took the visious son out of bed, Leaving Aladdin with the princess. Fear nothing, " Aladdin said to her. You are my wife promised to me by your unjust father and no harm will come to you The princess was too frightened to speak, And so passed the most miserable night of her life. At the appointed hour, The genie fetched in the shivering bridegroom. Laid him in his place, And transported the bed back to the palace. Presently, The Sultan came to wish his daughter good morning. The Vizier's unhappy son jumped up and hid himself, While the princess would not say a word and was very sorrowful. The Sultan then sent her mother to her, Who said, How comes it, Child, That you will not speak to your father? What has happened? The princess sighed deeply and at last told her mother how, During the night, The bed had been carried into some strange house and what had passed there Her mother did not believe her in the least, But bade her rise and consider it an idle dream. The following night, Exactly the same thing happened, And the next morning, On the princess's refusal to speak, The sultan threatened to cut off her head. Then she confessed all, Bidding him to ask the vizier's son if it were not so. The sultan told the vizier to ask his son, Who owned the truth, Adding that, Dearly as he loved the princess, He had rather die than go through another such fearful night. And wished to be separated from her. His wish was granted, And there was the end of feasting and rejoicing. When the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to remind the Sultan of his promise. She stood in the same place as before, And the Sultan, Who had forgotten Aladdin, At once remembered him and sent for her. On seeing her poverty, The sultan felt less inclined than ever to keep his word, And so asked his vizier's advice, Who counseled him to set so high a value on the princess that no man alive would come up to it. The sultan turned to Aladdin's mother, Saying, Good woman, A sultan must remember his promises, And I will remember mine. But your son must first send me forty basins of gold, Brimful of jewels, Carried by eighty slaves, Splendidly dressed. Tell him that I await his answer. The mother of Aladdin bowed low and went home, Thinking all was lost. She gave Aladdin the message, Adding, He may wait long enough for your answer. Not so long, Mother, As you think, " her son replied. I would do a great deal more than that for the princess He summoned the genie and in a few moments the eighty slaves arrived and filled up the small house and garden. Aladdin made them to set out to the palace, Two by two, Followed by his mother. They were so richly dressed with such splendid jewels that everyone crowded to see them and the basins of gold they carried on their heads. They entered the palace, And after kneeling before the Sultan, Stood in a half circle round the throne with their arms crossed, While Aladdin's mother presented them to the Sultan. He hesitated no longer, But said, Good woman, Return and tell your son that I wait for him with open arms. She lost no time in telling Aladdin, Bidding him make haste. But Aladdin first called the genie. I want a scented bath, He said. A richly embroidered habit. A horse surpassing the sultans, And twenty slaves to attend me. Besides this, Six slaves, Beautifully dressed, To wait on my mother. And lastly, Ten thousand pieces of gold in ten purses. No sooner said than done. Aladdin mounted his horse and passed through the streets, The slaves strewing gold as they went. Those who had played with him in his childhood knew him not. He had grown so handsome. When the Sultan saw him, He came down from his throne, Embraced him and led him into the hall where a feast was spread, Intending to marry him to the princess that very day. But Aladdin refused, Saying, I must build a palace fit for her, And took his leave. Once home, He said to the genie, Build me a palace of the finest marble, Set with diamond, Emerald, And other precious stones. In the middle you shall build a large hall with a dome, Its four walls of massy gold and silver, Each side having six windows, Whose lattices, All except one which is to be left unfinished, Must be set with sapphire and rubies. Must be stables and horses and grooms and slaves. Go and see about it. " The palace was finished the next day, And the genie carried him there and showed him all his orders faithfully carried out, Even to the laying of a velvet carpet from Aladdin's palace to the Sultan's. Aladdin's mother then dressed herself carefully and walked to the palace with her slaves while he followed her on horseback. The Sultan sent musicians with trumpets and cymbals to meet them, So that the air resounded with music and cheer. She was taken to the princess, Who saluted her and treated her with great honor. That night the princess said goodbye to her father and set out on the carpet to Aladdin's palace with his mother at her side. She was charmed at the sight of Aladdin, Who ran to receive her. Princess, He said, Blame your beauty for my boldness if I have displeased you. She told him that having seen him, She willingly obeyed her father in this matter. After the wedding had taken place, Aladdin led her into the hall where a feast was spread and she supped with him, After which they danced until midnight. The next day, Aladdin invited the Sultan to see the palace. On entering the hall with the four and twenty windows, With their rubies, Diamonds and sapphires, He cried, It is a world's wonder. There is only one thing that surprises me. Was it by accident that one window was left unfinished? No, Sir, By design, Returned Aladdin. I wished your majesty to have the glory of finishing this palace. The Sultan was pleased and sent for the best jewelers in the city. He showed them the unfinished window and made them fit it up like the others. Sir, Replied their spokesman, We cannot find enough jewels. The Sultan had his own fetched, Which they soon used, But to no purpose, For in a month's time the work was not half done. Aladdin, Knowing that their task was in vain, Bade them undo their work and carry the jewels back, And the genie finished the window at his command. The Sultan was surprised to receive his jewels again, And visited Aladdin, Who showed him the window finished. The Sultan embraced him, The envious Vizier, Meanwhile, Hinting that it was the work of enchantment. Aladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing. He was made captain of the Sultan's armies and won several battles for him, But remained as courteous as ever and lived thus in peace and content for several years. Far away in Africa, The magician remembered Aladdin. And through his magic discovered that he, Instead of perishing miserably in the cave, Had escaped and had married a princess with whom he was now living in great honor and wealth. He knew that the poor tailor's son could only have accomplished this by means of the lamp, And he traveled night and day until he reached the capital of China, Hell-bent on Aladdin's ruins. As he passed through the town, He heard people talking everywhere about a marvellous palace. Forgive my ignorance, He asked, What is this palace you speak of? Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's palace, Was the reply, The greatest wonder in the world. I will take you there if you have a mind to see it. The magician thanked he who spoke, And having seen the palace at last, He knew it had been raised by the genie of the lamp. And he became half mad with rage. He determined to get hold of the lamp and again plunge Aladdin into the deepest poverty. Unluckily, Aladdin had gone hunting for eight days, Which gave the magician plenty of time. He bought a dozen lamps, Put them in a basket, And went to the palace, Crying, New lamps for old, New lamps for old, Followed by a jeering crowd. The princess, Sitting in the hall of four and twenty windows, Sent a slave to find out what the noise was about, Who came back laughing. Madam, " said the slave, There is an old fool offering to exchange fine new lamps for old ones. Another slave, Hearing this, Said, There is an old one on the cornice there which he can have. Now this was the magic lamp which Aladdin had left as he could not take it out hunting with him. The princess, Not knowing its value, Laughingly bade the slave take it and make the exchange. She went out and said to the magician, Give me a new lamp for this. He snatched it and bade the slave take her choice amid the jeers of the crowd. Little he cared, But left off crying his lamps and went out of the city gates to a lonely place where he remained till nightfall, When he pulled out the lamp and rubbed it. The genie appeared and at the magician's command carried him, Together with the palace and the princess in it, To a lonely place in Africa. Next morning, The Sultan looked out of the window towards Aladdin's palace and rubbed his eyes, For it was gone. He sent for the Vizier and asked what had become of the palace. The vizier looked out, Too, And was lost in astonishment. He again put it down to enchantment. And this time the Sultan believed him and sent thirty men on horseback to fetch Aladdin back in chains. They met him riding home, Bound him, And forced him to go with them on foot. The people, However, Who loved Aladdin, Followed, Armed, To see that he came to no harm. He was carried before the Sultan, Who ordered the executioner to cut off his head. The executioner made Aladdin kneel down. Bandaged his eyes and raised his scimitar to strike. At that instant, The Grand Vizier, Who saw that the crowd had forced their way into the courtyard and were scaling the walls to rescue Aladdin, Called the executioner to stay his hand. The people indeed looked so threatening that the Sultan gave way and ordered Aladdin to be unbound and pardoned him in sight of the crowd. Aladdin now begged to know what he had done. False wretch, " said the Sultan. Come hither. And he showed him from the window the place where his palace had stood. Aladdin was so amazed he could not say a word. Where is your palace? And my daughter, Demanded the Sultan. For the first, I am not so deeply concerned, But my daughter I must have, And you must find her, Or lose your head. Aladdin begged for 40 days in which to find her, Promising if he failed to return to suffer death at the Sultan's pleasure. His wish was granted and he went forth sadly from the Sultan's presence. For three days he wandered about like a madman, Asking everyone what had become of his palace. But they only laughed and pitied him. He came to the banks of a river and knelt down to say his prayers before throwing himself in. In doing so, He rubbed the ring he still wore. The genie from the cave appeared and asked his will. Save my life, Genie, Said Aladdin, And bring my palace back. That is not in my power, " said the genie. I am only the slave of the ring. You must ask him of the lamp. But thou canst take me to the palace, " said Aladdin, And set me down under my dear wife's window. He at once found himself in Africa, Under the window of the princess, And fell asleep out of sheer weariness. He was awakened by the singing of birds and his heart was lighter. He saw plainly that all his misfortunes were owning to the loss of the lamp, And vainly he wondered who had robbed him of it. That morning, The princess rose earlier than usual since she had been carried to Africa by the magician, Whose company she was forced to endure once a day. She, However, Treated him so harshly that he dared not live there altogether. As she was dressing, One of her women looked out and saw Aladdin. The princess ran and opened the window, And at the noise she made, Aladdin looked up. She called for him to come to her, And so great was the joy of these lovers at seeing each other again. After he had kissed her, Aladdin said, I beg of you, Princess, In God's name, Before we speak of anything else, For your own sake and mine, Tell me what has become of an old lamp I left on the cornice in the hall of four and twenty windows when I went hunting. Alas, She said, I am the innocent cause of our sorrows, And told him of the exchange of the lamp. Now I know that we have to thank the African magician for this. Where is the lamp? He carries it about with him, Said the princess. I know, For he pulled it out of his cloak to show me. He wishes me to break my faith with you and to marry him, Saying that you were beheaded by my father's command. He is forever speaking ill of you, But I only reply by my tears. If I persist, I doubt not that he will use violence. " Aladdin comforted her and left her for a while on a mission. He changed clothes with the first person he met in the town, And having bought a certain powder, Returned to the princess, Who let him in by a little side door. Put on your most beautiful dress, He said to her, And received the magician with smiles, Leading him to believe you have forgotten me. Invite him to sup with you and say you wish to taste the wine of his country. He will go for some, And while he is gone, I will tell you what to do. She listened carefully to Aladdin. And when he left her, Arrayed herself gaily for the first time since she left China. She put on a girdle and headdress of diamonds, And seeing in a glass that she was more beautiful than ever, Received the magician, Saying to his great amazement, I have made up my mind that Aladdin is dead, And that all my tears will not bring him back to me, So I am resolved to mourn no more, And have therefore invited you to sup with me. I am tired of the wines of China, And would fain taste those of Africa. The magician flew to his cellar, And the princess put the powder Aladdin had given her in her cup. When he returned, She asked him to drink her health in the wine of Africa, Handing him her cup in exchange for his, As a sign she was reconciled to him. Before drinking, The magician made her a speech in praise of her beauty, But the princess cut him short, Saying, Let us drink first, And you shall say what you will afterwards. She set her cup to her lips and kept it there, While the magician drained his to the dregs and instantly fell back lifeless. The princess then opened the door to Aladdin and they shared an embrace. Aladdin went over to the dead magician, Took the lamp out of his vest, And bade the genie carry the palace and all in it back to China. This was done, And the princess in her chamber felt only two little shocks, And little thought she was home again. The Sultan, Who was sitting in his closet, Mourning for his lost daughter, Happened to look up. And rubbed his eyes, For there stood the palace as before. He hastened over, And Aladdin received him in the hall of four and twenty windows, With the princess by his side. Aladdin told him what had happened and showed him the body of the magician so that he might believe. A ten-day feast was proclaimed, And it seemed as if Aladdin might now live the rest of his life in peace. But it was not meant to be. The African magician had a younger brother who was, If possible, More wicked and more cunning than himself. He travelled to China to avenge his brother's death. And went to visit a pious woman called Fatima, Thinking she might be of use to him. He entered her cell and clapped a dagger to her breast, Telling her to rise and do his bidding on pain of death. He changed clothes with her, Made up his face like hers, Put on her veil, And murdered her that she might tell no tales. Then he went towards the palace of Aladdin. And all the people of the land, Thinking he was the holy woman, Gathered around him, Kissing his hands and begging his blessing. When he got to the palace, There was such a noise going on around him that the princess bade her slave look out the window and ask what was the matter. The slave told her it was the holy woman curing people of their ailments by her touch, Whereupon the princess, Who had long desired to meet Fatima, Sent for her. On coming to the princess, The magician offered up a prayer for her health and prosperity. When he had finished, The princess made him sit by her and begged him to stay with her always. The false Fatima, Who wished for nothing better, Consented, But kept his veil down for fear of discovery. The princess showed him in the hall and asked him what he thought of it. It is truly beautiful, Said the false Fatima. In my mind it wants but one thing. And what is that, Said the princess. If only a rock's egg, Replied he, Were hung from the middle of this dome, It would be the wonder of the world. After this, The princess could think of nothing but the rock's egg, And when Aladdin returned from hunting, He found her in a very ill humor. He begged to know what was amiss, And she told him that all her pleasure in the hall was spoiled for want of a rock's egg hanging from the dome. If that is all, Replied Aladdin, You shall soon be happy. He left her and rubbed the lamp. And when the genie appeared, Commanded him to bring a rock's egg. The genie gave such a loud and terrible shriek that the palace shook. Wretch, He cried. Is it not enough that I have done everything for you, That you must command me to bring my master and hang him up in the midst of this dome? You and your wife and your palace deserve to be burnt to ashes, But that this request does not come from you, But from the brother of the African magician whom you destroyed. He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman whom he murdered. He it was who put that wish into the princess's head. Take care of yourself, For he means to kill you. " And so saying, The genie disappeared. Aladdin went back to the princess, Saying that his head ached, And requesting that the holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it. But as the magician came near, Aladdin, Seizing his dagger, Pierced him to the heart. What have you done? Cried the princess. You have killed the holy woman. Not so, Replied Aladdin, But a wicked magician. And he told her of how she had been deceived. After this, Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the Sultan when he died and reigned for many years, Leaving behind him a long line of kings.

Reviews

I love these long sessions. This is one of my favorite. Your voice is so relaxing. Thank you for another great sleep