I don't think I have any words in which to tell the meetingof the mother and daughters. Such hours are beautiful to live,but very hard to describe, so I will leave it to the imaginationof my readers, merely saying that the house was full of genuinehappiness, and that Meg's tender hope was realized, for when Bethwoke from that long, healing sleep, the first objects on whichher eyes fell were the little rose and Mother's face. Too weakto wonder at anything, she only smiled and nestled close in theloving arms about her, feeling that the hungry longing wassatisfied at last. Then she slept again, and the girls waited upontheir mother, for she would not unclasp the thin hand whichclung to hers even in sleep.

Hannah had 'dished up' an astonishing breakfast for thetraveler, finding it impossible to vent her excitement in anyother way, and Meg and Jo fed their mother like dutiful youngstorks, while they listened to her whispered account of Father'sstate, Mr. Brooke's promise to stay and nurse him, the delayswhich the storm occasioned on the homeward journey, and theunspeakable comfort Laurie's hopeful face had given her when shearrived, worn out with fatigue, anxiety, and cold.

What a strange yet pleasant day that was. So brilliant andgay without, for all the world seemed abroad to welcome the firstsnow. So quiet and reposeful within, for everyone slept, spentwith watching, and a Sabbath stillness reigned through the house,while nodding Hannah mounted guard at the door. With a blissfulsense of burdens lifted off, Meg and Jo closed their weary eyes,and lay at rest, like storm-beaten boats safe at anchor in aquiet harbor. Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side, but restedin the big chair, waking often to look at, touch, and brood overher child, like a miser over some recovered treasure.

Laurie meanwhile posted off to comfort Amy, and told hisstory so well that Aunt March actually 'sniffed' herself, andnever once said "I told you so". Amy came out so strong onthis occasion that I think the good thoughts in the little chapelreally began to bear fruit. She dried her tears quickly,restrained her impatience to see her mother, and never even thoughtof the turquoise ring, when the old lady heartily agreed in Laurie'sopinion, that she behaved 'like a capital little woman'. EvenPolly seemed impressed, for he called her a good girl, blessedher buttons, and begged her to "come and take a walk, dear", inhis most affable tone. She would very gladly have gone out toenjoy the bright wintry weather, but discovering that Lauriewas dropping with sleep in spite of manful efforts to concealthe fact, she persuaded him to rest on the sofa, while she wrotea note to her mother. She was a long time about it, and when shereturned, he was stretched out with both arms under his head,sound asleep, while Aunt March had pulled down the curtains andsat doing nothing in an unusual fit of benignity.

After a while, they began to think he was not going to wakeup till night, and I'm not sure that he would, had he not beeneffectually roused by Amy's cry of joy at sight of her mother.There probably were a good many happy little girls in and aboutthe city that day, but it is my private opinion that Amy was thehappiest of all, when she sat in her mother's lap and told hertrials, receiving consolation and compensation in the shape ofapproving smiles and fond caresses. They were alone togetherin the chapel, to which her mother did not object when itspurpose was explained to her.

"On the contrary, I like it very much, dear," looking fromthe dusty rosary to the well-worn little book, and the lovelypicture with its garland of evergreen. "It is an excellent planto have some place where we can go to be quiet, when things vexor grieve us. There are a good many hard times in this life ofours, but we can always bear them if we ask help in the rightway. I think my little girl is learning this."

"Yes, Mother, and when I go home I mean to have a cornerin the big closet to put my books and the copy of that picturewhich I've tried to make. The woman's face is not good, it'stoo beautiful for me to draw, but the baby is done better, andI love it very much. I like to think He was a little child once,for then I don't seem so far away, and that helps me."

As Amy pointed to the smiling Christ child on his Mother'sknee, Mrs. March saw something on the lifted hand that made hersmile. She said nothing, but Amy understood the look, and aftera minute's pause, she added gravely, "I wanted to speak to youabout this, but I forgot it. Aunt gave me the ring today. Shecalled me to her and kissed me, and put it on my finger, andsaid I was a credit to her, and she'd like to keep me always.She gave that funny guard to keep the turquoise on, as it's toobig. I'd like to wear them Mother, can I?"

"They are very pretty, but I think you're rather too youngfor such ornaments, Amy," said Mrs. March, looking at the plumplittle hand, with the band of sky-blue stones on the forefinger,and the quaint guard formed of two tiny golden hands claspedtogether.

"I'll try not to be vain," said Amy. "I don't think I likeit only because it's so pretty, but I want to wear it as the girlin the story wore her bracelet, to remind me of something."

"Do you mean Aunt March?" asked her mother, laughing.

"No, to remind me not to be selfish." Amy looked soearnest and sincere about it that her mother stopped laughing,and listened respectfully to the little plan.

"I've thought a great deal lately about my 'bundle ofnaughties', and being selfish is the largest one in it, so I'mgoing to try hard to cure it, if I can. Beth isn't selfish, andthat's the reason everyone loves her and feels so bad at thethoughts of losing her. People wouldn't feel so bad about meif I was sick, and I don't deserve to have them, but I'd liketo be loved and missed by a great many friends, so I'm goingto try and be like Beth all I can. I'm apt to forget myresolutions, but if I had something always about me to remind me,I guess I should do better. May we try this way?"

"Yes, but I have more faith in the corner of the big closet.Wear your ring, dear, and do your best. I think you will prosper,for the sincere wish to be good is half the battle. Now I mustgo back to Beth. Keep up your heart, little daughter, and we willsoon have you home again."

That evening while Meg was writing to her father to reportthe traveler's safe arrival, Jo slipped upstairs into Beth's room,and finding her mother in her usual place, stood a minute twistingher fingers in her hair, with a worried gesture and an undecidedlook.

"What is it, deary?" asked Mrs. March, holding out her hand,with a face which invited confidence.

"I want to tell you something, Mother."

"About Meg?"

"How quickly you guessed! Yes, it's about her, and thoughit's a little thing, it fidgets me."

"Beth is asleep. Speak low, and tell me all about it. ThatMoffat hasn't been here, I hope?" asked Mrs. March rather sharply.

"No. I should have shut the door in his face if he had,"said Jo, settling herself on the floor at her mother's feet. "Lastsummer Meg left a pair of gloves over at the Laurences' and onlyone was returned. We forgot about it, till Teddy told me that Mr.Brooke owned that he liked Meg but didn't dare say so, she was soyoung and he so poor. Now, isn't it a dreadful state of things?"

"Do you think Meg cares for him?" asked Mrs. March, with ananxious look.

"Mercy me! I don't know anything about love and suchnonsense!" cried Jo, with a funny mixture of interest and contempt."In novels, the girls show it by starting and blushing, faintingaway, growing thin, and acting like fools. Now Meg does not doanything of the sort. She eats and drinks and sleeps like asensible creature, she looks straight in my face when I talkabout that man, and only blushes a little bit when Teddy jokesabout lovers. I forbid him to do it, but he doesn't mind me ashe ought."

"Then you fancy that Meg is not interested in John?"

"Who?" cried Jo, staring.

"Mr. Brooke. I call him 'John' now. We fell into the wayof doing so at the hospital, and he likes it."

"Oh, dear! I know you'll take his part. He's been good toFather, and you won't send him away, but let Meg marry him, ifshe wants to. Mean thing! To go petting Papa and helping you,just to wheedle you into liking him." And Jo pulled her hairagain with a wrathful tweak.

"My dear, don't get angry about it, and I will tell you howit happened. John went with me at Mr. Laurence's request, andwas so devoted to poor Father that we couldn't help getting fondof him. He was perfectly open and honorable about Meg, for hetold us he loved her, but would earn a comfortable home beforehe asked her to marry him. He only wanted our leave to love herand work for her, and the right to make her love him if he could.He is a truly excellent young man, and we could not refuse tolisten to him, but I will not consent to Meg's engaging herselfso young."

"Of course not. It would be idiotic! I knew there wasmischief brewing. I felt it, and now it's worse than I imagined.I just wish I could marry Meg myself, and keep her safe in thefamily."

This odd arrangement made Mrs. March smile, but she saidgravely, "Jo, I confide in you and don't wish you to say anythingto Meg yet. When John comes back, and I see them together, I canjudge better of her feelings toward him."

"She'll see those handsome eyes that she talks about, andthen it will be all up with her. She's got such a soft heart,it will melt like butter in the sun if anyone looks sentimentllyat her. She read the short reports he sent more than she didyour letters, and pinched me when I spoke of it, and likes browneyes, and doesn't think John an ugly name, and she'll go and fallin love, and there's an end of peace and fun, and cozy times together.I see it all! They'll go lovering around the house, and we shallhave to dodge. Meg will be absorbed and no good to me any more.Brooke will scratch up a fortune somehow, carry her off,and make a hole in the family, and I shall break my heart, andeverything will be abominably uncomfortable. Oh, dear me! Whyweren't we all boys, then there wouldn't be any bother."

Jo leaned her chin on her knees in a disconsolate attitudeand shook her fist at the reprehensible John. Mrs. March sighed,and Jo looked up with an air of relief.

"You don't like it, Mother? I'm glad of it. Let's send himabout his business, and not tell Meg a word of it, but all behappy together as we always have been."

"I did wrong to sigh, Jo. It is natural and right you shouldall go to homes of your own in time, but I do want to keep my girlsas long as I can, and I am sorry that this happened so soon, forMeg is only seventeen and it will be some years before John canmake a home for her. Your father and I have agreed that she shallnot bind herself in any way, nor be married, before twenty. Ifshe and John love one another, they can wait, and test the loveby doing so. She is conscientious, and I have no fear of hertreating him unkindly. My pretty, tender hearted girl! I hopethings will go happily with her."

"Hadn't you rather have her marry a rich man?" asked Jo, asher mother's voice faltered a little over the last words.

"Money is a good and useful thing, Jo, and I hope my girlswill never feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted bytoo much. I should like to know that John was firmly establishedin some good business, which gave him an income large enough tokeep free from debt and make Meg comfortable. I'm not ambitiousfor a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great namefor my girls. If rank and money come with love and virtue, also,I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune, butI know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had ina plain little house, where the daily bread is earned, and someprivations give sweetness to the few pleasures. I am content tosee Meg begin humbly, for if I am not mistaken, she will be richin the possession of a good man's heart, and that is better thana fortune."

"I understand, Mother, and quite agree, but I'm disappointedabout Meg, for I'd planned to have her marry Teddy by-and-by andsit in the lap of luxury all her days. Wouldn't it be nice?"asked Jo, looking up with a brighter face.

"He is younger than she, you know," began Mrs. March, but Jobroke in . . .

"Only a little, he's old for his age, and tall, and can bequite grown-up in his manners if he likes. Then he's rich andgenerous and good, and loves us all, and I say it's a pity myplan is spoiled."

"I'm afraid Laurie is hardly grown-up enough for Meg, andaltogether too much of a weathercock just now for anyone todepend on. Don't make plans, Jo, but let time and their ownhearts mate your friends. We can't meddle safely in suchmatters, and had better not get 'romantic rubbish' as youcall it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship."

"Well, I won't, but I hate to see things going all crisscrossand getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip therewould straighten it out. I wish wearing flatirons on our headswould keep us from growing up. But buds will be roses, andkittens cats, more's the pity!"

"What's that about flatirons and cats?" asked Meg, as shecrept into the room with the finished letter in her hand.

"Only one of my stupid speeches. I'm going to bed. Come,Peggy," said Jo, unfolding herself like an animated puzzle.

"Quite right, and beautifully written. Please add that Isend my love to John," said Mrs. March, as she glanced overthe letter and gave it back.

"Do you call him 'John'?" asked Meg, smiling, with herinnocent eyes looking down into her mother's.

"Yes, he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him,"replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one.

"I'm glad of that, he is so lonely. Good night, Mother,dear. It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here,"was Meg's answer.

The kiss her mother gave her was a very tender one, andas she went away, Mrs. March said, with a mixture of satisfactionand regret, "She does not love John yet, but will soon learn to."