It's a dull day, but the air isn't bad, and I'm going to take Brooke home, so it will be gay inside, if it isn't out. Come, Jo, you and Beth will go, won't you?" "Of course we will." "Much obliged, but I'm busy.

" And Meg whisked out her workbasket, for she had agreed with her mother that it was best, for her at least, not to drive too often with the young gentleman. "We three will be ready in a minute," cried Amy, running away to wash her hands. "Can I do anything for you, Madam Mother?" asked Laurie, leaning over Mrs.

March's chair with the affectionate look and tone he always gave her. "No, thank you, except call at the office, if you'll be so kind, dear. It's our day for a letter, and the postman hasn't been.

Father is as regular as the sun, but there's some delay on the way, perhaps." A sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after Hannah came in with a letter. "It's one of them horrid telegraph things, mum," she said, handling it as if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage.

At the word 'telegraph', Mrs. March snatched it, read the two lines it contained, and dropped back into her chair as white as if the little paper had sent a bullet to her heart. Laurie dashed downstairs for water, while Meg and Hannah supported her, and Jo read aloud, in a frightened voice .

. . Mrs.