It takes people a long time to learn the difference between talentand genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy waslearning this distinction through much tribulation, for mistakingenthusiasm for inspiration, she attempted every branch of art withyouthful audacity. For a long time there was a lull in the 'mud-pie'business, and she devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing,in which she showed such taste and skill that her graceful handiworkproved both pleasant and profitable. But over-strained eyes causedpen and ink to be laid aside for a bold attempt at poker-sketching.While this attack lasted, the family lived in constant fear of aconflagration, for the odor of burning wood pervaded the house atall hours, smoke issued from attic and shed with alarming frequency,red-hot pokers lay about promiscuously, and Hannah never went to bedwithout a pail of water and the dinner bell at her door in case offire. Raphael's face was found boldly executed on the underside ofthe moulding board, and Bacchus on the head of a beer barrel. Achanting cherub adorned the cover of the sugar bucket, and attemptsto portray Romeo and Juliet supplied kindling for some time.

From fire to oil was a natural transition for burned fingers,and Amy fell to painting with undiminished ardor. An artist friendfitted her out with his castoff palettes, brushes, and colors, andshe daubed away, producing pastoral and marine views such as werenever seen on land or sea. Her monstrosities in the way of cattlewould have taken prizes at an agricultural fair, and the perilouspitching of her vessels would have produced seasickness in the mostnautical observer, if the utter disregard to all known rules ofshipbuilding and rigging had not convulsed him with laughter at thefirst glance. Swarthy boys and dark-eyed Madonnas, staring at youfrom one corner of the studio, suggested Murillo; oily brown shadowsof faces with a lurid streak in the wrong place, meant Rembrandt;buxom ladies and dropiscal infants, Rubens; and Turner appeared intempests of blue thunder, orange lightning, brown rain, and purpleclouds, with a tomato-colored splash in the middle, which might bethe sun or a bouy, a sailor's shirt or a king's robe, as thespectator pleased.

Charcoal portraits came next, and the entire family hung in arow, looking as wild and crocky as if just evoked from a coalbin.Softened into crayon sketches, they did better, for the likenesseswere good, and Amy's hair, Jo's nose, Meg's mouth, and Laurie'seyes were pronounced 'wonderfully fine'. A return to clay andplaster followed, and ghostly casts of her acquaintances hauntedcorners of the house, or tumbled off closet shelves onto people'sheads. Children were enticed in as models, till their incoherentaccounts of her mysterious doings caused Miss Amy to be regarded inthe light of a young ogress. Her efforts in this line, however,were brought to an abrupt close by an untoward accident, whichquenched her ardor. Other models failing her for a time, sheundertook to cast her own pretty foot, and the family were one dayalarmed by an unearthly bumping and screaming and running to the rescue,found the young enthusiast hopping wildly about the shed with herfoot held fast in a pan full of plaster, which had hardened withunexpected rapidity. With much difficulty and some danger she wasdug out, for Jo was so overcome with laughter while she excavatedthat her knife went too far, cut the poor foot, and left a lastingmemorial of one artistic attempt, at least.

After this Amy subsided, till a mania for sketching from nature sether to haunting river, field, and wood, for picturesque studies, andsighing for ruins to copy. She caught endless colds sitting on dampgrass to book 'a delicious bit', composed of a stone, a stump, onemushroom, and a broken mullein stalk, or 'a heavenly mass ofclouds', that looked like a choice display of featherbeds when done.She sacrificed her complexion floating on the river in the midsummersun to study light and shade, and got a wrinkle over her nose tryingafter 'points of sight', or whatever the squint-and-stringperformance is called.

If 'genius is eternal patience', as Michelangelo affirms, Amyhad some claim to the divine attribute, for she persevered in spiteof all obstacles, failures, and discouragements, firmly believingthat in time she should do something worthy to be called 'high art'.

She was learning, doing, and enjoying other things, meanwhile,for she had resolved to be an attractive and accomplished woman,even if she never became a great artist. Here she succeeded better,for she was one of those happily created beings who please withouteffort, make friends everywhere, and take life so gracefully andeasily that less fortunate souls are tempted to believe that suchare born under a lucky star. Everybody liked her, for among hergood gifts was tact. She had an instinctive sense of what waspleasing and proper, always said the right thing to the right person,did just what suited the time and place, and was so self-possessedthat her sisters used to say, "If Amy went to court without anyrehearsal beforehand, she'd know exactly what to do."

One of her weaknesses was a desire to move in 'our best society',without being quite sure what the best really was. Money, position,fashionable accomplishments, and elegant manners were most desirablethings in her eyes, and she liked to associate with those whopossessed them, often mistaking the false for the true, and admiringwhat was not admirable. Never forgetting that by birth she was agentlewoman, she cultivated her aristocratic tastes and feelings, sothat when the opportunity came she might be ready to take the placefrom which poverty now excluded her.

"My lady," as her friends called her, sincerely desired to bea genuine lady, and was so at heart, but had yet to learn that moneycannot buy refinement of nature, that rank does not always confernobility, and that true breeding makes itself felt in spite ofexternal drawbacks.

"I want to ask a favor of you, Mamma," Amy said, coming inwith an important air one day.

"Well, little girl, what is it?" replied her mother, in whoseeyes the stately young lady still remained 'the baby'.

"Our drawing class breaks up next week, and before the girlsseparate for the summer, I want to ask them out here for a day. Theyare wild to see the river, sketch the broken bridge, and copy someof the things they admire in my book. They have been very kind tome in many ways, and I am grateful, for they are all rich and I knowI am poor, yet they never made any difference."

"Why should they?" and Mrs. March put the question with whatthe girls called her 'Maria Theresa air'.

"You know as well as I that it does make a difference withnearly everyone, so don't ruffle up like a dear, motherly hen, whenyour chickens get pecked by smarter birds. The ugly duckling turnedout a swan, you know." and Amy smiled without bitterness, for shepossessed a happy temper and hopeful spirit.

Mrs. March laughed, and smoothed down her maternal pride asshe asked, "Well, my swan, what is your plan?"

"I should like to ask the girls out to lunch next week, to takethem for a drive to the places they want to see, a row on the river,perhaps, and make a little artistic fete for them."

"That looks feasible. What do you want for lunch? Cake,sandwiches, fruit, and coffee will be all that is necessary, I suppose?"

"Oh, dear, no! We must have cold tongue and chicken, Frenchchocolate and ice cream, besides. The girls are used to such things,and I want my lunch to be proper and elegant, though I do work formy living."

"How many young ladies are there?" asked her mother, beginningto look sober.

"Twelve or fourteen in the class, but I dare say they won't all come."

"Bless me, child, you will have to charter an omnibus to carrythem about."

"Why, Mother, how can you think of such a thing? Not more thansix or eight will probably come, so I shall hire a beach wagon andborrow Mr. Laurence's cherry-bounce." (Hannah's pronunciation ofchar-a-banc.)

"All of this will be expensive, Amy."

"Not very. I've calculated the cost, and I'll pay for it myself."

"Don't you think, dear, that as these girls are used to suchthings, and the best we can do will be nothing new, that some simplerplan would be pleasanter to them, as a change if nothing more, andmuch better for us than buying or borrowing what we don't need, andattempting a style not in keeping with our circumstances?"

"If I can't have it as I like, I don't care to have it at all.I know that I can carry it out perfectly well, if you and the girlswill help a little, and I don't see why I can't if I'm willing to payfor it," said Amy, with the decision which opposition was apt tochange into obstinacy.

Mrs. March knew that experience was an excellent teacher, andwhen it was possible she left her children to learn alone the lessonswhich she would gladly have made easier, if they had not objected totaking advice as much as they did salts and senna.

"Very well, Amy, if your heart is set upon it, and you see yourway through without too great an outlay of money, time, and temper,I'll say no more. Talk it over with the girls, and whichever wayyou decide, I'll do my best to help you."

"Thanks, Mother, you are always so kind." and away went Amy tolay her plan before her sisters.

Meg agreed at once, and promised her aid, gladly offeringanything she possessed, from her little house itself to her verybest saltspoons. But Jo frowned upon the whole project and wouldhave nothing to do with it at first.

"Why in the world should you spend your money, worry your family,and turn the house upside down for a parcel of girls who don't care asixpence for you? I thought you had too much pride and sense totruckle to any mortal woman just because she wears French boots andrides in a coupe," said Jo, who, being called from the tragic climaxof her novel, was not in the best mood for social enterprises.

"I don't truckle, and I hate being patronized as much as you do!"returned Amy indignantly, for the two still jangled when suchquestions arose. "The girls do care for me, and I for them, andthere's a great deal of kindness and sense and talent among them, inspite of what you call fashionable nonsense. You don't care to makepeople like you, to go into good society, and cultivate your mannersand tastes. I do, and I mean to make the most of every chance thatcomes. You can go through the world with your elbows out and yournose in the air, and call it independence, if you like. That's notmy way."

When Amy had whetted her tongue and freed her mind she usually gotthe best of it, for she seldom failed to have common sense on herside, while Jo carried her love of liberty and hate ofconventionalities to such an unlimited extent that she naturallyfound herself worsted in an argument. Amy's definition of Jo's ideaof independence was such a good hit that both burst out laughing,and the discussion took a more amiable turn. Much against her will,Jo at length consented to sacrifice a day to Mrs. Grundy, and helpher sister through what she regarded as 'a nonsensical business'.

The invitations were sent, nearly all accepted, and the followingMonday was set apart for the grand event. Hannah was out of humorbecause her week's work was deranged, and prophesied that "ef thewashin' and ironin' warn't done reg'lar, nothin' would go wellanywheres". This hitch in the mainspring of the domestic machineryhad a bad effect upon the whole concern, but Amy's motto was 'Nildesperandum', and having made up her mind what to do, she proceededto do it in spite of all obstacles. To begin with, Hannah's cookingdidn't turn out well. The chicken was tough, the tongue too salty,and the chocolate wouldn't froth properly. Then the cake and ice costmore than Amy expected, so did the wagon, and various other expenses,which seemed trifling at the outset, counted up rather alarminglyafterward. Beth got a cold and took to her bed. Meg had an unusualnumber of callers to keep her at home, and Jo was in such a dividedstate of mind that her breakages, accidents, and mistakes wereuncommonly numerous, serious, and trying.

If it was not fair on Monday, the young ladies were to come onTuesday, an arrangement which aggravated Jo and Hannah to the lastdegree. On Monday morning the weather was in that undecided statewhich is more exasperating than a steady pour. It drizzled a little,shone a little, blew a little, and didn't make up its mind till itwas too late for anyone else to make up theirs. Amy was up at dawn,hustling people out of their beds and through their breakfasts, thatthe house might be got in order. The parlor struck her as lookinguncommonly shabby, but without stopping to sigh for what she had not,she skillfully made the best of what she had, arranging chairs overthe worn places in the carpet, covering stains on the walls withhomemade statuary, which gave an artistic air to the room, as did thelovely vases of flowers Jo scattered about.

The lunch looked charming, and as she surveyed it, she sincerelyhoped it would taste well, and that the borrowed glass, china, andsilver would get safely home again. The carriages were promised, Megand Mother were all ready to do the honors, Beth was able to helpHannah behind the scenes, Jo had engaged to be as lively and amiableas an absent mind, and aching head, and a very decided disapproval ofeverybody and everything would allow, and as she wearily dressed, Amycheered herself with anticipations of the happy moment when, lunchsafely over, she should drive away with her friends for an afternoonof artistic delights, for the 'cherry bounce' and the broken bridgewere her strong points.

Then came the hours of suspense, during which she vibrated fromparlor to porch, while public opinion varied like the weathercock. Asmart shower at eleven had evidently quenched the enthusiasm of theyoung ladies who were to arrive at twelve, for nobody came, and at twothe exhausted family sat down in a blaze of sunshine to consume theperishable portions of the feast, that nothing might be lost.

"No doubt about the weather today, they will certainly come, sowe must fly round and be ready for them," said Amy, as the sun wokeher next morning. She spoke briskly, but in her secret soul she wishedshe had said nothing about Tuesday, for her interest like her cake wasgetting a little stale.

"I can't get any lobsters, so you will have to do without saladtoday," said Mr. March, coming in half an hour later, with anexpression of placid despair.

"Use the chicken then, the toughness won't matter in a salad,"advised his wife.

"Hannah left it on the kitchen table a minute, and the kittens got at it. I'm very sorry, Amy," added Beth, who was still a patroness of cats.

"Then I must have a lobster, for tongue alone won't do," said Amy decidedly.

"Shall I rush into town and demand one?" asked Jo, with themagnanimity of a martyr.

"You'd come bringing it home under your arm without any paper,just to try me. I'll go myself," answered Amy, whose temper wasbeginning to fail.

Shrouded in a thick veil and armed with a genteel traveling basket,she departed, feeling that a cool drive would soothe her ruffled spiritand fit her for the labors of the day. After some delay, the object ofher desire was procured, likewise a bottle of dressing to preventfurther loss of time at home, and off she drove again, well pleased with her own forethought.

As the omnibus contained only one other passenger, a sleepy oldlady, Amy pocketed her veil and beguiled the tedium of the way bytrying to find out where all her money had gone to. So busy was shewith her card full of refractory figures that she did not observe anewcomer, who entered without stopping the vehicle, till a masculinevoice said, "Good morning, Miss March," and, looking up, she beheldone of Laurie's most elegant college friends. Fervently hoping thathe would get out before she did, Amy utterly ignored the basket at herfeet, and congratulating herself that she had on her new travelingdress, returned the young man's greeting with her usual suavity andspirit.

They got on excellently, for Amy's chief care was soon set atrest by learning that the gentleman would leave first, and she waschatting away in a peculiarly lofty strain, when the old lady got out.In stumbling to the door, she upset the basket, and - oh horror! - thelobster, in all its vulgar size and brilliancy, was revealed to thehighborn eyes of a Tudor!

"By Jove, she's forgotten her dinner!" cried the unconsciousyouth, poking the scarlet monster into its place with his cane, andpreparing to hand out the basket after the old lady.

"Please don't - it's - it's mine," murmured Amy, with a face nearlyas red as her fish.

"Oh, really, I beg pardon. It's an uncommonly fine one, isn't it?"said Tudor, with great presence of mind, and an air of sober interestthat did credit to his breeding.

Amy recovered herself in a breath, set her basket boldly on theseat, and said, laughing, "Don't you wish you were to have some of thesalad he's going to make, and to see the charming young ladies who areto eat it?"

Now that was tact, for two of the ruling foibles of the masculinemind were touched. The lobster was instantly surrounded by a halo ofpleasing reminiscences, and curiosity about 'the charming young ladies'diverted his mind from the comical mishap.

"I suppose he'll laugh and joke over it with Laurie, but I shan'tsee them, that's a comfort," thought Amy, as Tudor bowed and departed.

She did not mention this meeting at home (though she discoveredthat, thanks to the upset, her new dress was much damaged by therivulets of dressing that meandered down the skirt), but went throughwith the preparations which now seemed more irksome than before, andat twelve o'clock all was ready again. Feeling that the neighborswere interested in her movements, she wished to efface the memory ofyesterday's failure by a grand success today, so she ordered the'cherry bounce', and drove away in state to meet and escort her gueststo the banquet.

"There's the rumble, they're coming! I'll go onto the porch andmeet them. It looks hospitable, and I want the poor child to have agood time after all her trouble," said Mrs. March, suiting the actionto the word. But after one glance, she retired, with an indescribableexpression, for looking quite lost in the big carriage, sat Amy andone young lady.

"Run, Beth, and help Hannah clear half the things off the table.It will be too absurd to put a luncheon for twelve before a singlegirl," cried Jo, hurrying away to the lower regions, too excited tostop even for a laugh.

In came Amy, quite calm and delightfully cordial to the oneguest who had kept her promise. The rest of the family, being ofa dramatic turn, played their parts equally well, and Miss Eliottfound them a most hilarious set, for it was impossible to controlentirely the merriment which possessed them. The remodeled lunchbeing gaily partaken of, the studio and garden visited, and artdiscussed with enthusiasm, Amy ordered a buggy (alas for the elegantcherry-bounce), and drove her friend quietly about the neighborhoodtill sunset, when 'the party went out'.

As she came walking in, looking very tired but as composed asever, she observed that every vestige of the unfortunate fete haddisappeared, except a suspicious pucker about the corners of Jo'smouth.

"You've had a loverly afternoon for your drive, dear," saidher mother, as respectfully as if the whole twelve had come.

"Miss Eliott is a very sweet girl, and seemed to enjoy herself,I thought," observed Beth, with unusual warmth.

"Could you spare me some of your cake? I really need some, Ihave so much company, and I can't make such delicious stuff as yours,"asked Meg soberly.

"Take it all. I'm the only one here who likes sweet things, andit will mold before I can dispose of it," answered Amy, thinking witha sigh of the generous store she had laid in for such an end as this.

"It's a pity Laurie isn't here to help us," began Jo, as they satdown to ice cream and salad for the second time in two days.

A warning look from her mother checked any further remarks, andthe whole family ate in heroic silence, till Mr. March mildly observed,"salad was one of the favorite dishes of the ancients, and Evelyn . . ."Here a general explosion of laughter cut short the 'history of salads',to the great surprise of the learned gentleman.

"Bundle everything into a basket and send it to the Hummels. Germanslike messes. I'm sick of the sight of this, and there's no reason youshould all die of a surfeit because I've been a fool," cried Amy, wipingher eyes.

"I thought I should have died when I saw you two girls rattlingabout in the what-you-call-it, like two little kernels in a very bignutshell, and Mother waiting in state to receive the throng," sighedJo, quite spent with laughter.

"I'm very sorry you were disappointed, dear, but we all did ourbest to satisfy you," said Mrs. March, in a tone full of motherlyregret.

"I am satisfied. I've done what I undertook, and it's not myfault that it failed. I comfort myself with that," said Amy with alittle quiver in her voice. "I thank you all very much for helpingme, and I'll thank you still more if you won't allude to it for amonth, at least."

No one did for several months, but the word 'fete' always produceda general smile, and Laurie's birthday gift to Amy was a tinycoral lobster in the shape of a charm for her watch guard.