She grieves about Father, and looks sober except
when she is at her little piano. Amy minds me
nicely, and I take great care of her. She does
her own hair, and I am teaching her to make buttonholes
and mend her stockings. She tries very hard,
and I know you will be pleased with her improvement
when you come. Mr. Laurence watches over us like
a motherly old hen, as Jo says, and Laurie is very
kind and neighborly. He and Jo keep us merry,
for we get pretty blue sometimes, and feel like orphans,
with you so far away. Hannah is a perfect saint.
She does not scold at all, and always calls me Miss
Margaret, which is quite proper, you know, and treats
me with respect. We are all well and busy, but
we long, day and night, to have you back. Give
my dearest love to Father, and believe me, ever your
own . . .
MEG
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 . . .
