In order that we may start afresh and go to Meg's weddingwith free minds, it will be well to begin with a little gossipabout the Marches. And here let me premise that if any of theelders think there is too much 'lovering' in the story, as I fearthey may (I'm not afraid the young folks will make that objection),I can only say with Mrs. March, "What can you expect when I havefour gay girls in the house, and a dashing young neighbor over theway?"

The three years that have passed have brought but few changesto the quiet family. The war is over, and Mr. March safely athome, busy with his books and the small parish which found in hima minister by nature as by grace, a quiet, studious man, rich inthe wisdom that is better than learning, the charity which callsall mankind 'brother', the piety that blossoms into character,making it august and lovely.

These attributes, in spite of poverty and the strict integritywhich shut him out from the more worldly successes, attracted tohim many admirable persons, as naturally as sweet herbs draw bees,and as naturally he gave them the honey into which fifty years ofhard experience had distilled no bitter drop. Earnest young menfound the gray-headed scholar as young at heart as they; thoughtfulor troubled women instinctively brought their doubts to him, sureof finding the gentlest sympathy, the wisest counsel. Sinners toldtheir sins to the pure-hearted old man and were both rebuked andsaved. Gifted men found a companion in him. Ambitious men caughtglimpses of nobler ambitions than their own, and even worldlingsconfessed that his beliefs were beautiful and true, although 'theywouldn't pay'.

To outsiders the five energetic women seemed to rule the house,and so they did in many things, but the quiet scholar, sitting amonghis books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience,anchor, and comforter, for to him the busy, anxious women alwaysturned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of thosesacred words, husband and father.

The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keeping, theirsouls into their father's, and to both parents, who lived and laboredso faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growthand bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesseslife and outlives death.

Mrs. March is as brisk and cheery, though rather grayer, thanwhen we saw her last, and just now so absorbed in Meg's affairs thatthe hospitals and homes still full of wounded 'boys' and soldiers'widows, decidedly miss the motherly missionary's visits.

John Brooke did his duty manfully for a year, got wounded, wassent home, and not allowed to return. He received no stars or bars,but he deserved them, for he cheerfully risked all he had, and lifeand love are very precious when both are in full bloom. Perfectlyresigned to his discharge, he devoted himself to getting well,preparing for business, and earning a home for Meg. With the goodsense and sturdy independence that characterized him, he refusedMr. Laurence's more generous offers, and accepted the place ofbookkeeper, feeling better satisfied to begin with an honestly earnedsalary than by running any risks with borrowed money.

Meg had spent the time in working as well as waiting, growingwomanly in character, wise in housewifely arts, and prettier thanever, for love is a great beautifier. She had her girlish ambitionsand hopes, and felt some disappointment at the humble way in whichthe new life must begin. Ned Moffat had just married Sallie Gardiner,and Meg couldn't help contrasting their fine house and carriage,many gifts, and splendid outfit with her own, and secretly wishingshe could have the same. But somehow envy and discontent soonvanished when she thought of all the patient love and labor John hadput into the little home awaiting her, and when they sat together inthe twilight, talking over their small plans, the future always grewso beautiful and bright that she forgot Sallie's splendor and feltherself the richest, happiest girl in Christendom.

Jo never went back to Aunt March, for the old lady took sucha fancy to Amy that she bribed her with the offer of drawing lessonsfrom one of the best teachers going, and for the sake of thisadvantage, Amy would have served a far harder mistress. So she gave her mornings to duty, her afternoons to pleasure, and prospered finely.Jo meantime devoted herself to literature and Beth, who remaineddelicate long after the fever was a thing of the past. Not aninvalid exactly, but never again the rosy, healthy creature she hadbeen, yet always hopeful, happy, and serene, and busy with the quietduties she loved, everyone's friend, and an angel in the house, longbefore those who loved her most had learned to know it.

Laurie, having dutifully gone to college to please his grandfather,was now getting through it in the easiest possible mannerto please himself. A universal favorite, thanks to money, manners,much talent, and the kindest heart that ever got its owner intoscrapes by trying to get other people out of them, he stood ingreat danger of being spoiled, and probably would have been, likemany another promising boy, if he had not possessed a talismanagainst evil in the memory of the kind old man who was bound up inhis success, the motherly friend who watched over him as if he wereher son, and last, but not least by any means, the knowledge thatfour innocent girls loved, admired, and believed in him with alltheir hearts.

Being only 'a glorious human boy', of course he frolicked andflirted, grew dandified, aquatic, sentimental, or gymnastic, ascollege fashions ordained, hazed and was hazed, talked slang, andmore than once came perilously near suspension and expulsion. Butas high spirits and the love of fun were the causes of these pranks,he always managed to save himself by frank confession, honorableatonement, or the irresistible power of persuasion which he possessedin perfection. In fact, he rather prided himself on his narrowescapes, and liked to thrill the girls with graphic accounts of histriumphs over wrathful tutors, dignified professors, and vanquishedenemies. The 'men of my class', were heroes in the eyes of the girls,who never wearied of the exploits of 'our fellows', and were frequentlyallowed to bask in the smiles of these great creatures, when Lauriebrought them home with him.

Amy especially enjoyed this high honor, and became quite a belleamong them, for her ladyship early felt and learned to use the giftof fascination with which she was endowed. Meg was too much absorbedin her private and particular John to care for any other lords ofcreation, and Beth too shy to do more than peep at them and wonderhow Amy dared to order them about so, but Jo felt quite in her ownelement, and found it very difficult to refrain from imitating thegentlemanly attitudes, phrases, and feats, which seemed more naturalto her than the decorums prescribed for young ladies. They all likedJo immensely, but never fell in love with her, though very fewescaped without paying the tribute of a sentimental sigh or two atAmy's shrine. And speaking of sentiment brings us very naturally tothe 'Dovecote'.

That was the name of the little brown house Mr. Brooke had preparedfor Meg's first home. Laurie had christened it, saying it washighly appropriate to the gentle lovers who 'went on together like apair of turtledoves, with first a bill and then a coo'. It was atiny house, with a little garden behind and a lawn about as big as apocket handkerchief in the front. Here Meg meant to have a fountain,shrubbery, and a profusion of lovely flowers, though just at presentthe fountain was represented by a weather-beaten urn, very like adilapidated slopbowl, the shrubbery consisted of several young larches,undecided whether to live or die, and the profusion of flowers wasmerely hinted by regiments of sticks to show where seeds were planted.But inside, it was altogether charming, and the happy bride saw nofault from garret to cellar. To be sure, the hall was so narrow itwas fortunate that they had no piano, for one never could have beengot in whole, the dining room was so small that six people were atight fit, and the kitchen stairs seemed built for the expresspurpose of precipitating both servants and china pell-mell into thecoalbin. But once get used to these slight blemishes and nothingcould be more complete, for good sense and good taste had presidedover the furnishing, and the result was highly satisfactory. Therewere no marble-topped tables, long mirrors, or lace curtains in thelittle parlor, but simple furniture, plenty of books, a fine pictureor two, a stand of flowers in the bay window, and, scattered allabout, the pretty gifts which came from friendly hands and were thefairer for the loving messages they brought.

I don't think the Parian Psyche Laurie gave lost any of itsbeauty because John put up the bracket it stood upon, that anyupholsterer could have draped the plain muslin curtains moregracefully than Amy's artistic hand, or that any store-room was everbetter provided with good wishes, merry words, and happy hopesthan that in which Jo and her mother put away Meg's few boxes,barrels, and bundles, and I am morally certain that the spandy newkitchen never could have looked so cozy and neat if Hannah had notarranged every pot and pan a dozen times over, and laid the fireall ready for lighting the minute 'Mis. Brooke came home'. I alsodoubt if any young matron ever began life with so rich a supply ofdusters, holders, and piece bags, for Beth made enough to last tillthe silver wedding came round, and invented three different kindsof dishcloths for the express service of the bridal china.

People who hire all these things done for them never knowwhat they lose, for the homeliest tasks get beautified if lovinghands do them, and Meg found so many proofs of this that everythingin her small nest, from the kitchen roller to the silver vase onher parlor table, was eloquent of home love and tender forethought.

What happy times they had planning together, what solemn shoppingexcursions, what funny mistakes they made, and what shouts oflaughter arose over Laurie's ridiculous bargains. In his love ofjokes, this young gentleman, though nearly through college, was amuch of a boy as ever. His last whim had been to bring with him onhis weekly visits some new, useful, and ingenious article for theyoung housekeeper. Now a bag of remarkable clothespins, next, awonderful nutmeg grater which fell to pieces at the first trial, aknife cleaner that spoiled all the knives, or a sweeper that pickedthe nap neatly off the carpet and left the dirt, labor-saving soapthat took the skin off one's hands, infallible cements which stuckfirmly to nothing but the fingers of the deluded buyer, and everykind of tinware, from a toy savings bank for odd pennies, to awonderful boiler which would wash articles in its own steam withevery prospect of exploding in the process.

In vain Meg begged him to stop. John laughed at him, and Jo calledhim 'Mr. Toodles'. He was possessed with a mania for patronizingYankee ingenuity, and seeing his friends fitly furnished forth.So each week beheld some fresh absurdity.

Everything was done at last, even to Amy's arranging differentcolored soaps to match the different colored rooms, and Beth'ssetting the table for the first meal.

"Are you satisfied? Does it seem like home, and do you feelas if you should be happy here?" asked Mrs. March, as she and herdaughter went through the new kingdom arm in arm, for just thenthey seemed to cling together more tenderly than ever.

"Yes, Mother, perfectly satisfied, thanks to you all, and sohappy that I can't talk about it," with a look that was far betterthan words.

"If she only had a servant or two it would be all right," said Amy,coming out of the parlor, where she had been trying to decide whetherthe bronze Mercury looked best on the whatnot or the mantlepiece.

"Mother and I have talked that over, and I have made up mymind to try her way first. There will be so little to do that withLotty to run my errands and help me here and there, I shall onlyhave enough work to keep me from getting lazy or homesick," answeredMeg tranquilly.

"Sallie Moffat has four," began Amy.

"If Meg had four, the house wouldn't hold them, and master andmissis would have to camp in the garden," broke in Jo, who, envelopedin a big blue pinafore, was giving the last polish to the door handles.

"Sallie isn't a poor man's wife, and many maids are in keepingwith her fine establishment. Meg and John begin humbly, but I havea feeling that there will be quite as much happiness in the littlehouse as in the big one. It's a great mistake for young girls likeMeg to leave themselves nothing to do but dress, give orders, andgossip. When I was first married, I used to long for my new clothesto wear out or get torn, so that I might have the pleasure of mendingthem, for I got heartily sick of doing fancywork and tending mypocket handkerchief."

"Why didn't you go into the kitchen and make messes, as Salliesays she does to amuse herself, though they never turn out well andthe servants laugh at her," said Meg.

"I did after a while, not to 'mess' but to learn of Hannah howthings should be done, that my servants need not laugh at me. Itwas play then, but there came a time when I was truly grateful thatI not only possessed the will but the power to cook wholesome foodfor my little girls, and help myself when I could no longer affordto hire help. You begin at the other end, Meg, dear, but the lessonsyou learn now will be of use to you by-and-by when John is a richerman, for the mistress of a house, however splendid, should know howwork ought to be done, if she wishes to be well and honestly served."

"Yes, Mother, I'm sure of that," said Meg, listening respectfullyto the little lecture, for the best of women will hold forthupon the all absorbing subject of house keeping. "Do you know Ilike this room most of all in my baby house," added Meg, a minuteafter, as they went upstairs and she looked into her well-storedlinen closet.

Beth was there, laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelvesand exulting over the goodly array. All three laughed as Meg spoke,for that linen closet was a joke. You see, having said that if Megmarried 'that Brooke' she shouldn't have a cent of her money, AuntMarch was rather in a quandary when time had appeased her wrath andmade her repent her vow. She never broke her word, and was muchexercised in her mind how to get round it, and at last devised aplan whereby she could satisfy herself. Mrs. Carrol, Florence'smamma, was ordered to buy, have made, and marked a generous supplyof house and table linen, and send it as her present, all of whichwas faithfully done, but the secret leaked out, and was greatlyenjoyed by the family, for Aunt March tried to look utterlyunconscious, and insisted that she could give nothing but theold-fashioned pearls long promised to the first bride.

"That's a housewifely taste which I am glad to see. I had ayoung friend who set up housekeeping with six sheets, but she hadfinger bowls for company and that satisfied her," said Mrs. March,patting the damask tablecloths, with a truly feminine appreciationof their fineness.

"I haven't a single finger bowl, but this is a setout that willlast me all my days, Hannah says." And Meg looked quite contented,as well she might.

A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, afelt basin of a hat, and a flyaway coat, came tramping down theroad at a great pace, walked over the low fence without stopping toopen the gate, straight up to Mrs. March, with both hands out anda hearty . . .

"Here I am, Mother! Yes, it's all right."

The last words were in answer to the look the elder lady gavehim, a kindly questioning look which the handsome eyes met sofrankly that the little ceremony closed, as usual, with a motherlykiss.

"For Mrs. John Brooke, with the maker's congratulations andcompliments. Bless you, Beth! What a refreshing spectacle youare, Jo. Amy, you are getting altogether too handsome for asingle lady."

As Laurie spoke, he delivered a brown paper parcel to Meg,pulled Beth's hair ribbon, stared at Jo's big pinafore, and fellinto an attitude of mock rapture before Amy, then shook hands allround, and everyone began to talk.

"Where is John?" asked Meg anxiously.

"Stopped to get the license for tomorrow, ma'am."

"Which side won the last match, Teddy?" inquired Jo, who persistedin feeling an interest in manly sports despite her nineteen years.

"Ours, of course. Wish you'd been there to see."

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

"More cruel than ever. Don't you see how I'm pining away?" and Laurie gave his broad chest a sounding slap and heaved amelodramatic sigh.

"What's the last joke? Undo the bundle and see, Meg," saidBeth, eying the knobby parcel with curiosity.

"It's a useful thing to have in the house in case of fireor thieves," observed Laurie, as a watchman's rattle appeared,amid the laughter of the girls.

"Any time when John is away and you get frightened, Mrs.Meg, just swing that out of the front window, and it will rousethe neighborhood in a jiffy. Nice thing, isn't it?" and Lauriegave them a sample of its powers that made them cover up their ears.

"There's gratitude for you! And speaking of gratitude remindsme to mention that you may thank Hannah for saving your wedding cakefrom destruction. I saw it going into your house as I came by, andif she hadn't defended it manfully I'd have had a pick at it, for itlooked like a remarkably plummy one."

"I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie," said Meg in amatronly tone.

"I'm doing my best, ma'am, but can't get much higher, I'm afraid,as six feet is about all men can do in these degenerate days,"responded the young gentleman, whose head was about level with thelittle chandelier.

"I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in thisspick-and-span bower, so as I'm tremendously hungry,I propose an adjournment," he added presently.

"Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some lastthings to settle," said Meg, bustling away.

"Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant's to get more flowersfor tomorrow," added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesquecurls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody.

"Come, Jo, don't desert a fellow. I'm in such a state of exhaustionI can't get home without help. Don't take off your apron,whatever you do, it's peculiarly becoming," said Laurie, as Jobestowed his especial aversion in her capacious pocket and offeredher arm to support his feeble steps.

"Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow,"began Jo, as they strolled away together. "You must promise tobehave well, and not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans."

"Not a prank."

"And don't say funny things when we ought to be sober."

"I never do. You are the one for that."

"And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony. Ishall certainly laugh if you do."

"You won't see me, you'll be crying so hard that the thick foground you will obscure the prospect."

"I never cry unless for some great affliction."

"Such as fellows going to college, hey?" cut in Laurie, withsuggestive laugh.

"Don't be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girlscompany."

"Exactly. I say, Jo, how is Grandpa this week? Pretty amiable?"

"Very. Why, have you got into a scrape and want to know howhe'll take it?" asked Jo rather sharply.

"Now, Jo, do you think I'd look your mother in the face and say'All right', if it wasn't?" and Laurie stopped short, with aninjured air.

"No, I don't."

"Then don't go and be suspicious. I only want some money," saidLaurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone.

"You spend a great deal, Teddy."

"Bless you, I don't spend it, it spends itself somehow, and isgone before I know it."

"You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow,and can't say 'No' to anyone. We heard about Henshaw and all you didfor him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blameyou," said Jo warmly.

"Oh, he made a mountain out of a molehill. You wouldn't have melet that fine fellow work himself to death just for want of a littlehelp, when he is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?"

"Of course not, but I don't see the use of your having seventeenwaistcoats, endless neckties, and a new hat every time you come home.I thought you'd got over the dandy period, but every now and then itbreaks out in a new spot. Just now it's the fashion to be hideous,to make your head look like a scrubbing brush, wear a strait jacket,orange gloves, and clumping square-toed boots. If it was cheapugliness, I'd say nothing, but it costs as much as the other, and Idon't get any satisfaction out of it."

Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at thisattack, that the felt hat fell off, and Jo walked on it, whichinsult only afforded him an opportunity for expatiating on theadvantages of a rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up themaltreated hat, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Don't lecture any more, there's a good soul! I have enoughall through the week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home.I'll get myself up regardless of expense tomorrow and be asatisfaction to my friends."

"I'll leave you in peace if you'll only let your hair grow.I'm not aristocratic, but I do object to being seen with a personwho looks like a young prize fighter," observed Jo severely.

"This unassuming style promotes study, that's why we adopt it,"returned Laurie, who certainly could not be accused of vanity, havingvoluntarily sacrificed a handsome curly crop to the demand forquarter-inch-long stubble.

"By the way, Jo, I think that little Parker is really gettingdesperate about Amy. He talks of her constantly, writes poetry, andmoons about in a most suspicious manner. He'd better nip his littlepassion in the bud, hadn't he?" added Laurie, in a confidential,elder brotherly tone, after a minute's silence.

"Of course he had. We don't want any more marrying in thisfamily for years to come. Mercy on us, what are the childrenthinking of?" and Jo looked as much scandalized as if Amy and littleParker were not yet in their teens.

"It's a fast age, and I don't know what we are coming to, ma'am.You are a mere infant, but you'll go next, Jo, and we'll be leftlamenting," said Laurie, shaking his head over the degeneracy of thetimes.

"Don't be alarmed. I'm not one of the agreeable sort. Nobodywill want me, and it's a mercy, for there should always be one oldmaid in a family."

"You won't give anyone a chance," said Laurie, with a sidelongglance and a little more color than before in his sunburned face."You won't show the soft side of your character, and if a fellowgets a peep at it by accident and can't help showing that he likesit, you treat him as Mrs. Gummidge did her sweetheart, throw coldwater over him, and get so thorny no one dares touch or look at you."

"I don't like that sort of thing. I'm too busy to be worriedwith nonsense, and I think it's dreadful to break up families so.Now don't say any more about it. Meg's wedding has turned all ourheads, and we talk of nothing but lovers and such absurdities. Idon't wish to get cross, so let's change the subject;" and Jolooked quite ready to fling cold water on the slightest provocation.

Whatever his feelings might have been, Laurie found a vent forthem in a long low whistle and the fearful prediction as they partedat the gate, "Mark my words, Jo, you'll go next."