LITMIR.BIZ

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a>, but he deserved them. He was preparing for business, and earning a home for Meg. With the good sense and sturdy independence that characterized him, he accepted the place of bookkeeper.

      Now we can talk about four March sisters. Margaret “Meg” March, the oldest sister, was growing womanly in character, wise in housewifely arts. She had her girlish ambitions and hopes. Ned Moffat married Sallie Gardiner, and Meg was contrasting their fine house and carriage, many gifts, and splendid outfit with her own. She was secretly wishing to have the same.

      What about other girls? Amy Curtis March, the youngest sister, gave her mornings to duty, her afternoons to pleasure, and prospered finely.

      Josephine “Jo” March meantime devoted herself to literature and Beth, who remained delicate after the fever. As long as “The Spread Eagle[3]” paid Jo a dollar a column for her ‘rubbish’, as she called it, Jo felt herself a woman of means[4].

      Elizabeth “Beth” March is kind, gentle, sweet, shy, quiet, honest and musical. She is the shyest March sister and the pianist of the family. Moreover, she is the peacemaker of the family and gently scolds her sisters when they argue.

      We will mention Laurie as well. Laurie went to college to please his grandfather, and now was trying to please himself. Of course he frolicked and flirted, was dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, as college fashions ordained, talked slang. But he always managed to save himself by frank confession, honorable atonement, or the irresistible power of persuasion which he possessed.

      Now we can talk about the ‘Dovecote’. That was the name of the little brown house. Mr. Brooke prepared it for Meg’s first home. It was a tiny house, with a little garden behind and a lawn. Here Meg meant to have a fountain, shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers. There were no marble tables, long mirrors, or lace curtains in the little parlor.

      “Are you satisfied? Does it seem like home? Will you be happy here?” asked Mrs. March, as she and her daughter went through the new kingdom.

      “Yes, Mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and so happy that I can’t talk about it,” answered Meg.

      “What about a servant or two?” asked Amy. She went out of the parlor.

      “Mother and I talked about that. There will be little work here,” answered Meg tranquilly.

      “Sallie Moffat has four servants,” began Amy.

      “If Meg has four, the house won’t hold them,” said Jo.

      “Sallie isn’t a poor man’s wife. Meg and John begin humbly,” said Mrs. March.

      “Yes, Mother. Do you know I like this room most of all in my baby house,” added Meg, a minute after, as they went upstairs and she looked into her well-stored linen closet[5].

      Beth was there. She was laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelves.

      “This is a setout that will last me all my days.” Meg looked quite contented.

      A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow came down the road, walked over the low fence. It was Laurie.

      “Here I am, Mother! This is for Mrs. John Brooke, with congratulations and compliments. Bless you, Beth! What a spectacle you are, Jo. Amy, you are too handsome for a single lady.”

      As Laurie spoke, he delivered a brown paper parcel to Meg, pulled Beth’s hair ribbon, and stared at Jo’s big pinafore. Everyone began to talk.

      “Where is John?” asked Meg anxiously.

      “Stopped to get the license[6] for tomorrow, ma’am.”

      “Who won the last match, Teddy?” inquired Jo.

      “We won, of course.”

      “How is the lovely Miss Randal?” asked Amy with a significant smile.

      “More cruel than ever.”

      “Undo the bundle, Meg,” said Beth.

      “It’s a useful thing in case of fire or thieves,” observed Laurie, as a watchman’s rattle[7] appeared, amid the laughter of the girls.

      “When will you grow up, Laurie?” asked Meg in a matronly tone.

      “I’m doing my best, ma’am,” responded the young gentleman, whose head was about level with the little chandelier. “Listen, Jo, you’ll marry next.”

      The First Wedding

      The June roses over the porch were awake bright and early on that morning, like friendly little neighbors. Meg looked very like a rose herself, with a charm more beautiful than beauty. So she made her wedding gown herself. Her sisters braided up her pretty hair, and the only ornaments she wore were the lilies of the valley, which ‘her John’ liked best of all the flowers that grew.

      “You look just like our own dear Meg. And you are very sweet and lovely! I want to hug, but I’m afraid to crumple your dress,” cried Amy.

      “Then I am satisfied. But please hug and kiss me, everyone, and don’t mind my dress,” and Meg opened her arms to her sisters. “Now I’m going to tie John’s cravat for him, and then to stay a few minutes with Father quietly in the study.”

      Meg ran down to perform these little ceremonies. As the younger girls stand together, and give the last touches to their simple toilet, we’ll discuss the news.

      Over the three years, Jo’s angles are much softened, she has learned to carry herself with ease, if not grace. Her hair grew long. There was a fresh color in her brown cheeks, a soft shine in her eyes, and only gentle words fall from her sharp tongue today.

      Beth has grown slender, pale, and more quiet than ever. Amy was considered ‘the flower of the family’. At sixteen she has the air and bearing of a full-grown woman, not beautiful, but possessed with grace. All three wore suits of thin silver gray (their best gowns for the summer), with blush roses in hair and bosom, and all three looked just what they were, fresh-faced, happy-hearted girls.

      There will be no ceremonious performances, everything will be as natural and homelike as possible. When Aunt March arrived, she was shocked to see the bride and the bridegroom. The bride herself was running to welcome and lead her in. And the bridegroom himself was fastening up a garland.

      “Upon my word, here’s a state of things![8]” cried the old lady. She took the seat of honor prepared for her. “Nobody is allowed to see you till the last minute, child.”

      “I’m not a show, Aunty, and no one is coming to stare at me, to criticize my dress, or count the cost of my luncheon. I’m too happy to think about what anyone says or thinks. I’m going to have my little wedding just as I like it. John, dear, here’s your hammer.”

      And Meg went away to help ‘that man’ in his highly improper employment.

      Mr. Brooke didn’t even say, “Thank you,” but as he stooped for the unromantic tool, he kissed his little bride behind the folding door.

      There was no bridal procession, but a sudden silence fell upon the room as Mr. March and the young couple took their places under the green arch. Mother and sisters gathered close. The fatherly voice broke more than once, which only seemed to make the service more beautiful and solemn. The bridegroom’s hand trembled visibly, and no one heard his replies. But Meg looked straight up in her husband’s eyes, and said, “I will!” with such tender trust in her own face and voice that her mother’s heart rejoiced and Aunt March sniffed audibly.

      Jo did not cry, though she was very near it once. She was only saved from a demonstration by the consciousness that Laurie was staring fixedly at her, with a comical mixture of merriment and emotion in his wicked black eyes. Beth’s face was hidden on her mother’s shoulder. Amy stood like a graceful statue.

      No one said anything, till Laurie, who insisted on serving the bride, appeared before her, with a loaded salver in his hand and a puzzled expression on his face.

      “Has

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