This note, prettily written on scented paper, was a great contrast to the next, which was scribbled on a big sheet of thin foreign paper, ornamented with blots and all manner of flourishes and curly-tailed letters.
My precious Marmee:
Three cheers for dear Father! Brooke was a trump to telegraph right off, and let us know the minute he was better. I rushed up garret when the letter came, and tried to thank god for being so good to us, but I could only cry, and say, “I’m glad! I’m glad!” Didn’t that do as well as a regular prayer? For I felt a great many in my heart. We have such funny times, and now I can enjoy them, for everyone is so desperately good, it’s like living in a nest of turtledoves. You’d laugh to see Meg head the table and try to be motherish. She gets prettier every day, and I’m in love with her sometimes. The children are regular archangels, and I— well, I’m Jo, and never shall be anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came near having a quarrel with Laurie. I freed my mind about a silly little thing, and he was offended. I was right, but didn’t speak as I ought, and he marched home, saying he wouldn’t come again till I begged pardon. I declared I wouldn’t and got mad. It lasted all day. I felt bad and wanted you very much. Laurie and I are both so proud, it’s hard to beg pardon. But I thought he’d come to it, for I was in the right. He didn’t come, and just at night I remembered what you said when Amy fell into the river. I read my little book, felt better, resolved not to let the sun set on my anger, and ran over to tell Laurie I was sorry. I met him at the gate, coming for the same thing. We both laughed, begged each other’s pardon, and felt all good and comfortable again.
I made a ‘pome’ yesterday, when I was helping Hannah wash, and as Father likes my silly little things, I put it in to amuse him. Give him my lovingest hug that ever was, and kiss yourself a dozen times for your . . .