It began during a bad year when everything went wrong at Plumfield;times were hard, the school dwindled, Jo overworked herself and had along illness; Laurie and Amy were abroad, and the Bhaers too proud toask help even of those as near and dear as this generous pair.

 

　　Confined to her room, Jo got desperate over the state of affairs,till she fell back upon the long-disused pen as the only thing shecould do to help fill up the gaps in the income. A book for girlsbeing wanted by a certain publisher, she hastily scribbled a littlestory describing a few scenes and adventures in the lives of herselfand sisters, though boys were more in her line, and with very slighthopes of success sent it out to seek its fortune.

 

　　Things always went by contraries with Jo. Her first book, labouredover for years, and launched full of the high hopes and ambitiousdreams of youth, foundered on its voyage, though the wreck continuedto float long afterward, to the profit of the publisher at least. Thehastily written story, sent away with no thought beyond the fewdollars it might bring, sailed with a fair wind and a wise pilot atthe helm into public favour, and came home heavily laden with anunexpected cargo of gold and glory.

 

　　A more astonished woman probably never existed than Josephine Bhaerwhen her little ship came into port with flags flying, cannon thathad been silent before now booming gaily, and, better than all, manykind faces rejoicing with her, many friendly hands grasping hers withcordial congratulations. After that it was plain sailing, and shemerely had to load her ships and send them off on prosperous trips,to bring home stores of comfort for all she loved and laboured for.

 

　　The fame she never did quite accept; for it takes very little fire tomake a great deal of smoke nowadays, and notoriety is not real glory.

 

　　The fortune she could not doubt, and gratefully received; though itwas not half so large a one as a generous world reported it to be.

 

　　The tide having turned continued to rise, and floated the familycomfortably into a snug harbour where the older members could restsecure from storms, and whence the younger ones could launch theirboats for the voyage of life.

 

　　All manner of happiness, peace, and plenty came in those years tobless the patient waiters, hopeful workers, and devout believers inthe wisdom and justice of Him who sends disappointment, poverty, andsorrow to try the love of human hearts and make success the sweeterwhen it comes. The world saw the prosperity, and kind souls rejoicedover the improved fortunes of the family; but the success Jo valuedmost, the happiness that nothing could change or take away, few knewmuch about.

 

　　It was the power of making her mother's last years happy and serene;to see the burden of care laid down for ever, the weary hands atrest, the dear face untroubled by any anxiety, and the tender heartfree to pour itself out in the wise charity which was its delight. Asa girl, Jo's favourite plan had been a room where Marmee could sit inpeace and enjoy herself after her hard, heroic life. Now the dreamhad become a happy fact, and Marmee sat in her pleasant chamber withevery comfort and luxury about her, loving daughters to wait on heras infirmities increased, a faithful mate to lean upon, andgrand-children to brighten the twilight of life with their dutifulaffection. A very precious time to all, for she rejoiced as onlymothers can in the good fortunes of their children. She had lived toreap the harvest she sowed; had seen prayers answered, hopes blossom,good gifts bear fruit, peace and prosperity bless the home she hadmade; and then, like some brave, patient angel, whose work was done,turned her face heavenward, glad to rest.

 

　　This was the sweet and sacred side of the change; but it had itsdroll and thorny one, as all things have in this curious world ofours. After the first surprise, incredulity, and joy, which came toJo, with the ingratitude of human nature, she soon tired of renown,and began to resent her loss of liberty. For suddenly the admiringpublic took possession of her and all her affairs, past, present, andto come. Strangers demanded to look at her, question, advise, warn,congratulate, and drive her out of her wits by well-meant but verywearisome attentions. If she declined to open her heart to them, theyreproached her; if she refused to endow her pet charities, relieveprivate wants, or sympathize with every ill and trial known tohumanity, she was called hard-hearted, selfish, and haughty; if shefound it impossible to answer the piles of letters sent her, she wasneglectful of her duty to the admiring public; and if she preferredthe privacy of home to the pedestal upon which she was requested topose, 'the airs of literary people' were freely criticized.

 

　　She did her best for the children, they being the public for whom shewrote, and laboured stoutly to supply the demand always in the mouthsof voracious youth--'More stories; more right away!' Her familyobjected to this devotion at their expense, and her health suffered;but for a time she gratefully offered herself up on the altar ofjuvenile literature, feeling that she owed a good deal to the littlefriends in whose sight she had found favour after twenty years ofeffort.

 

　　But a time came when her patience gave out; and wearying of being alion, she became a bear in nature as in name, and returning to herden, growled awfully when ordered out. Her family enjoyed the fun,and had small sympathy with her trials, but Jo came to consider itthe worse scrape of her life; for liberty had always been her dearestpossession, and it seemed to be fast going from her. Living in alantern soon loses its charm, and she was too old, too tired, and toobusy to like it. She felt that she had done all that could reasonablybe required of her when autographs, photographs, and autobiographicalsketches had been sown broadcast over the land; when artists hadtaken her home in all its aspects, and reporters had taken her in thegrim one she always assumed on these trying occasions; when a seriesof enthusiastic boarding-schools had ravaged her grounds fortrophies, and a steady stream of amiable pilgrims had worn herdoorsteps with their respectful feet; when servants left after aweek's trial of the bell that rang all day; when her husband wasforced to guard her at meals, and the boys to cover her retreat outof back windows on certain occasions when enterprising guests walkedin unannounced at unfortunate moments.

 

　　A sketch of one day may perhaps explain the state of things, offersome excuse for the unhappy woman, and give a hint to theautograph-fiend now rampant in the land; for it is a true tale.

 

　　'There ought to be a law to protect unfortunate authors,' said Mrs Joone morning soon after Emil's arrival, when the mail brought her anunusually large and varied assortment of letters. 'To me it is a morevital subject than international copyright; for time is money, peaceis health, and I lose both with no return but less respect for myfellow creatures and a wild desire to fly into the wilderness, sinceI cannot shut my doors even in free America.'

 

　　'Lion-hunters are awful when in search of their prey. If they couldchange places for a while it would do them good; and they'd see whatbores they were when they "do themselves the honour of calling toexpress their admiration of our charming work",' quoted Ted, with abow to his parent, now frowning over twelve requests for autographs.

 

　　'I have made up my mind on one point,' said Mrs Jo with greatfirmness. 'I will not answer this kind of letter. I've sent at leastsix to this boy, and he probably sells them. This girl writes from aseminary, and if I send her one all the other girls will at oncewrite for more. All begin by saying they know they intrude, and thatI am of course annoyed by these requests; but they venture to askbecause I like boys, or they like the books, or it is only one.

 

　　Emerson and Whittier put these things in the wastepaper-basket; andthough only a literary nursery-maid who provides moral pap for theyoung, I will follow their illustrious example; for I shall have notime to eat or sleep if I try to satisfy these dear unreasonablechildren'; and Mrs Jo swept away the entire batch with a sigh ofrelief.

 

　　'I'll open the others and let you eat your breakfast in peace, liebeMutter,' said Rob, who often acted as her secretary. 'Here's one fromthe South'; and breaking an imposing seal, he read:

 

　　'MADAM, As it has pleased Heaven to bless your effortswith a large fortune, I feel no hesitation in asking youto supply funds to purchase a new communion-service forour church. To whatever denomination you belong, you willof course respond with liberality to such a request,'Respectfully yours,'MRS X.Y. ZAVIER'

 

　　'Send a civil refusal, dear. All I have to give must go to feed andclothe the poor at my gates. That is my thank-offering for success.

 

　　Go on,' answered his mother, with a grateful glance about her happyhome.

 

　　'A literary youth of eighteen proposes that you put your name to anovel he has written; and after the first edition your name is to betaken off and his put on. There's a cool proposal for you. I guessyou won't agree to that, in spite of your soft-heartedness towardsmost of the young scribblers.'

 

　　'Couldn't be done. Tell him so kindly, and don't let him send themanuscript. I have seven on hand now, and barely time to read myown,' said Mrs Jo, pensively fishing a small letter out of theslop-bowl and opening it with care, because the down-hill addresssuggested that a child wrote it.

 

　　'I will answer this myself. A little sick girl wants a book, and sheshall have it, but I can't write sequels to all the rest to pleaseher. I should never come to an end if I tried to suit these voraciouslittle Oliver Twists, clamouring for more. What next, Robin?'

 

　　'This is short and sweet.

 

　　'DEAR MRS BHAER, I am now going to give you my opinion ofyour works. I have read them all many times, and call themfirst-rate. Please go ahead.

 

　　'Your admirer,'BILLY BABCOCK'

 

　　'Now that is what I like. Billy is a man of sense and a critic worthhaving, since he had read my works many times before expressing hisopinion. He asks for no answer, so send my thanks and regards.'

 

　　'Here's a lady in England with seven girls, and she wishes to knowyour views upon education. Also what careers they shall follow theoldest being twelve. Don't wonder she's worried,' laughed Rob.

 

　　'I'll try to answer it. But as I have no girls, my opinion isn'tworth much and will probably shock her, as I shall tell her to letthem run and play and build up good, stout bodies before she talksabout careers. They will soon show what they want, if they are letalone, and not all run in the same mould.'

 

　　'Here's a fellow who wants to know what sort of a girl he shallmarry, and if you know of any like those in your stories.'

 

　　'Give him Nan's address, and see what he'll get,' proposed Ted,privately resolving to do it himself if possible.

 

　　'This is from a lady who wants you to adopt her child and lend hermoney to study art abroad for a few years. Better take it, and tryyour hand at a girl, mother.'

 

　　'No, thank you, I will keep to my own line of business. What is thatblotted one? It looks rather awful, to judge by the ink,' asked MrsJo, who beguiled her daily task by trying to guess from the outsidewhat was inside her many letters. This proved to be a poem from aninsane admirer, to judge by its incoherent style.

 

　　'TO J.M.B.

 

　　'Oh, were I a heliotrope,I would play poet,And blow a breeze of fragranceTo you; and none should know it.

 

　　'Your form like the stately elmWhen Phoebus gilds the morning ray;Your cheeks like the ocean bedThat blooms a rose in May.

 

　　'Your words are wise and bright,I bequeath them to you a legacy given;And when your spirit takes its flight,May it bloom aflower in heaven.

 

　　'My tongue in flattering language spoke,And sweeter silence never brokein busiest street or loneliest glen.

 

　　I take you with the flashes of my pen.

 

　　'Consider the lilies, how they grow;They toil not, yet are fair,Gems and flowers and Solomon's seal.

 

　　The geranium of the world is J. M. Bhaer.

 

　　'JAMES'

 

　　While the boys shouted over this effusion--which is a true one--their mother read several liberal offers from budding magazines forher to edit them gratis; one long letter from a young girlinconsolable because her favourite hero died, and 'would dear MrsBhaer rewrite the tale, and make it end good?' another from an irateboy denied an autograph, who darkly foretold financial ruin and lossof favour if she did not send him and all other fellows who askedautographs, photographs, and auto-biographical sketches; a ministerwished to know her religion; and an undecided maiden asked which ofher two lovers she should marry. These samples will suffice to show afew of the claims made on a busy woman's time, and make my readerspardon Mrs Jo if she did not carefully reply to all.

 

　　'That job is done. Now I will dust a bit, and then go to my work.

 

　　I'm all behind-hand, and serials can't wait; so deny me to everybody,Mary. I won't see Queen Victoria if she comes today.' And Mrs Bhaerthrew down her napkin as if defying all creation.

 

　　'I hope the day will go well with thee, my dearest,' answered herhusband, who had been busy with his own voluminous correspondence. 'Iwill dine at college with Professor Plock, who is to visit us today.

 

　　The Junglings can lunch on Parnassus; so thou shalt have a quiettime.' And smoothing the worried lines out of her forehead with hisgood-bye kiss, the excellent man marched away, both pockets full ofbooks, an old umbrella in one hand, and a bag of stones for thegeology class in the other.

 

　　'If all literary women had such thoughtful angels for husbands, theywould live longer and write more. Perhaps that wouldn't be a blessingto the world though, as most of us write too much now,' said Mrs Jo,waving her feather duster to her spouse, who responded withflourishes of the umbrella as he went down the avenue.

 

　　Rob started for school at the same time, looking so much like himwith his books and bag and square shoulders and steady air that hismother laughed as she turned away, saying heartily: 'Bless both mydear professors, for better creatures never lived!'

 

　　Emil was already gone to his ship in the city; but Ted lingered tosteal the address he wanted, ravage the sugar-bowl, and talk with'Mum'; for the two had great larks together. Mrs Jo always arrangedher own parlour, refilled her vases, and gave the little touches thatleft it cool and neat for the day. Going to draw down the curtain,she beheld an artist sketching on the lawn, and groaned as shehastily retired to the back window to shake her duster.

 

　　At that moment the bell rang and the sound of wheels was heard in theroad.

 

　　'I'll go; Mary lets 'em in'; and Ted smoothed his hair as he made forthe hall.

 

　　'Can't see anyone. Give me a chance to fly upstairs,' whispered MrsJo, preparing to escape. But before she could do so, a man appearedat the door with a card in his hand. Ted met him with a stern air,and his mother dodged behind the window-curtains to bide her time forescape.

 

　　'I am doing a series of articles for the Saturday Tattler, and Icalled to see Mrs Bhaer the first of all,' began the newcomer in theinsinuating tone of his tribe, while his quick eyes were taking inall they could, experience having taught him to make the most of histime, as his visits were usually short ones.

 

　　'Mrs Bhaer never sees reporters, sir.'

 

　　'But a few moments will be all I ask,' said the man, edging his wayfarther in.

 

　　'You can't see her, for she is out,' replied Teddy, as a backwardglance showed him that his unhappy parent had vanished--through thewindow, he supposed, as she sometimes did when hard bestead.

 

　　'Very sorry. I'll call again. Is this her study? Charming room!' Andthe intruder fell back on the parlour, bound to see something and baga fact if he died in the attempt. 'It is not,' said Teddy, gently butfirmly backing him down the hall, devoutly hoping that his mother hadescaped round the corner of the house.

 

　　'If you could tell me Mrs Bhaer's age and birthplace, date ofmarriage, and number of children, I should be much obliged,'

 

　　continued the unabashed visitor as he tripped over the door-mat.

 

　　'She is about sixty, born in Nova Zembla, married just forty yearsago today, and has eleven daughters. Anything else, sir?' And Ted'ssober face was such a funny contrast to his ridiculous reply that thereporter owned himself routed, and retired laughing just as a ladyfollowed by three beaming girls came up the steps.

 

　　'We are all the way from Oshkosh, and couldn't go home without seein'

 

　　dear Aunt Jo. My girls just admire her works, and lot on gettin' asight of her. I know it's early; but we are goin' to see Holmes andLongfeller, and the rest of the celebrities, so we ran out here fustthing. Mrs Erastus Kingsbury Parmalee, of Oshkosh, tell her. We don'tmind waitin'; we can look round a spell if she ain't ready to seefolks yet.'

 

　　All this was uttered with such rapidity that Ted could only standgazing at the buxom damsels, who fixed their six blue eyes upon himso beseechingly that his native gallantry made it impossible to denythem a civil reply at least.

 

　　'Mrs Bhaer is not visible today--out just now, I believe; but you cansee the house and grounds if you like,' he murmured, falling back asthe four pressed in gazing rapturously about them.

 

　　'Oh, thank you! Sweet, pretty place I'm sure! That's where shewrites, ain't it? Do tell me if that's her picture! Looks just as Iimagined her!'

 

　　With these remarks the ladies paused before a fine engraving of theHon. Mrs Norton, with a pen in her hand and a rapt expression ofcountenance, likewise a diadem and pearl necklace.

 

　　Keeping his gravity with an effort, Teddy pointed to a very badportrait of Mrs Jo, which hung behind the door, and afforded her muchamusement, it was so dismal, in spite of a curious effect of lightupon the end of the nose and cheeks as red as the chair she sat in.

 

　　'This was taken for my mother; but it is not very good,' he said,enjoying the struggles of the girls not to look dismayed at the saddifference between the real and the ideal. The youngest, aged twelve,could not conceal her disappointment, and turned away, feeling as somany of us have felt when we discover that our idols are veryordinary men and women.

 

　　'I thought she'd be about sixteen and have her hair braided in twotails down her back. I don't care about seeing her now,' said thehonest child, walking off to the hall door, leaving her mother toapologize, and her sisters to declare that the bad portrait was'perfectly lovely, so speaking and poetic, you know, 'specially aboutthe brow'.

 

　　'Come girls, we must be goin', if we want to get through today. Youcan leave your albums and have them sent when Mrs Bhaer has written asentiment in 'em. We are a thousand times obliged. Give our best loveto your ma, and tell her we are so sorry not to see her.' Just asMrs. Erastus Kingsbury Parmalee uttered the words her eye fell upona middle-aged woman in a large checked apron, with a handkerchieftied over her head, busily dusting an end room which looked like astudy.

 

　　'One peep at her sanctum since she is out,' cried the enthusiasticlady, and swept across the hall with her flock before Teddy couldwarn his mother, whose retreat had been cut off by the artist infront, the reporter at the back of the house--for he hadn't gone andthe ladies in the hall.

 

　　'They've got her!' thought Teddy, in comical dismay. 'No use for herto play housemaid since they've seen the portrait.'

 

　　Mrs Jo did her best, and being a good actress, would have escaped ifthe fatal picture had not betrayed her. Mrs Parmalee paused at thedesk, and regardless of the meerschaum that lay there, the man'sslippers close by, and a pile of letters directed to 'Prof. F.

 

　　Bhaer', she clasped her hands, exclaiming impressively: 'Girls, thisis the spot where she wrote those sweet, those moral tales which havethrilled us to the soul! Could I--ah, could I take one morsel ofpaper, an old pen, a postage stamp even, as a memento of this giftedwoman?'

 

　　'Yes'm, help yourselves,' replied the maid, moving away with a glanceat the boy, whose eyes were now full of merriment he could notsuppress.

 

　　The oldest girl saw it, guessed the truth, and a quick look at thewoman in the apron confirmed her suspicion. Touching her mother, shewhispered: 'Ma, it's Mrs Bhaer herself. I know it is.'

 

　　'No? yes? it is! Well, I do declare, how nice that is!' And hastilypursuing the unhappy woman, who was making for the door, Mrs Parmaleecried eagerly:

 

　　'Don't mind us! I know you're busy, but just let me take your handand then we'll go.'

 

　　Giving herself up for lost, Mrs Jo turned and presented her hand likea tea-tray, submitting to have it heartily shaken, as the matronsaid, with somewhat alarming hospitality:

 

　　'If ever you come to Oshkosh, your feet won't be allowed to touch thepavement; for you'll be borne in the arms of the populace, we shallbe so dreadful glad to see you.'

 

　　Mentally resolving never to visit that effusive town, Jo responded ascordially as she could; and having written her name in the albums,provided each visitor with a memento, and kissed them all round, theyat last departed, to call on 'Longfeller, Holmes, and the rest'--whowere all out, it is devoutly to be hoped.

 

　　'You villain, why didn't you give me a chance to whip away? Oh, mydear, what fibs you told that man! I hope we shall be forgiven oursins in this line, but I don't know what is to become of us if wedon't dodge. So many against one isn't fair play.' And Mrs Jo hung upher apron in the hall closet, with a groan at the trials of her lot.

 

　　'More people coming up the avenue! Better dodge while the coast isclear! I'll head them off!' cried Teddy, looking back from the steps,as he was departing to school.

 

　　Mrs Jo flew upstairs, and having locked her door, calmly viewed ayoung ladies' seminary camp on the lawn, and being denied the house,proceed to enjoy themselves by picking the flowers, doing up theirhair, eating lunch, and freely expressing their opinion of the placeand its possessors before they went.

 

　　A few hours of quiet followed, and she was just settling down to along afternoon of hard work, when Rob came home to tell her that theYoung Men's Christian Union would visit the college, and two or threeof the fellows whom she knew wanted to pay their respects to her onthe way.

 

　　'It is going to rain, so they won't come, I dare say; but fatherthought you'd like to be ready, in case they do call. You always seethe boys, you know, though you harden your heart to the poor girls,'

 

　　said Rob, who had heard from his brother about the morningvisitations.

 

　　'Boys don't gush, so I can stand it. The last time I let in a partyof girls one fell into my arms and said, "Darling, love me!" I wantedto shake her,' answered Mrs Jo, wiping her pen with energy.

 

　　'You may be sure the fellows won't do it, but they will wantautographs, so you'd better be prepared with a few dozen,' said Rob,laying out a quire of notepaper, being a hospitable youth andsympathizing with those who admired his mother.

 

　　'They can't outdo the girls. At X College I really believe I wrotethree hundred during the day I was there, and I left a pile of cardsand albums on my table when I came away. It is one of the most absurdand tiresome manias that ever afflicted the world.'

 

　　Nevertheless Mrs Jo wrote her name a dozen times, put on her blacksilk, and resigned herself to the impending call, praying for rain,however, as she returned to her work.

 

　　The shower came, and feeling quite secure, she rumpled up her hair,took off her cuffs, and hurried to finish her chapter; for thirtypages a day was her task, and she liked to have it well done beforeevening. Josie had brought some flowers for the vases, and was justputting the last touches when she saw several umbrellas bobbing downthe hill.

 

　　'They are coming, Aunty! I see uncle hurrying across the field toreceive them,' she called at the stair-foot.

 

　　'Keep an eye on them, and let me know when they enter the avenue. Itwill take but a minute to tidy up and run down,' answered Mrs Jo,scribbling away for dear life, because serials wait for no man, noteven the whole Christian Union en masse.

 

　　'There are more than two or three. I see half a dozen at least,'

 

　　called sister Ann from the hall door. 'No! a dozen, I do believe;Aunty, look out; they are all coming! What shall we do?' And Josiequailed at the idea of facing the black throng rapidly approaching.

 

　　'Mercy on us, there are hundreds! Run and put a tub in the back entryfor their umbrellas to drip into. Tell them to go down the hall andleave them, and pile their hats on the table; the tree won't holdthem all. No use to get mats; my poor carpets!' And down went Mrs Joto prepare for the invasion, while Josie and the maids flew aboutdismayed at the prospect of so many muddy boots.

 

　　On they came, a long line of umbrellas, with splashed legs andflushed faces underneath; for the gentlemen had been having a goodtime all over the town, undisturbed by the rain. Professor Bhaer metthem at the gate, and was making a little speech of welcome, when MrsJo, touched by their bedraggled state, appeared at the door,beckoning them in. Leaving their host to orate bareheaded in the wet,the young men hastened up the steps, merry, warm, and eager,clutching off their hats as they came, and struggling with theirumbrellas, as the order was passed to march in and stack arms.

 

　　Tramp, tramp, tramp, down the hall went seventy-five pairs of boots;soon seventy-five umbrellas dripped sociably in the hospitable tub,while their owners swarmed all over the lower part of the house; andseventy-five hearty hands were shaken by the hostess without amurmur, though some were wet, some very warm, and nearly all boretrophies of the day's ramble. One impetuous party flourished a smallturtle as he made his compliments; another had a load of sticks cutfrom noted spots; and all begged for some memento of Plumfield. Apile of cards mysteriously appeared on the table, with a writtenrequest for autographs; and despite her morning vow, Mrs Jo wroteeveryone, while her husband and boys did the honours of the house.

 

　　Josie fled to the back parlour, but was discovered by exploringyouths, and mortally insulted by one of them, who innocently inquiredif she was Mrs Bhaer. The reception did not last long, and the endwas better than the beginning; for the rain ceased, and a rainbowshone beautifully over them as the good fellows stood upon the lawnsinging sweetly for a farewell. A happy omen, that bow of promisearched over the young heads, as if Heaven smiled upon their union,and showed them that above the muddy earth and rainy skies theblessed sun still shone for all. Three cheers, and then away theywent, leaving a pleasant recollection of their visit to amuse thefamily as they scraped the mud off the carpets with shovels andemptied the tub half-full of water.

 

　　'Nice, honest, hard-working fellows, and I don't begrudge myhalf-hour at all; but I must finish, so don't let anyone disturb metill tea-time,' said Mrs Jo, leaving Mary to shut up the house; forpapa and the boys had gone off with the guests, and Josie had runhome to tell her mother about the fun at Aunt Jo's.

 

　　Peace reigned for an hour, then the bell rang and Mary came gigglingup to say: 'A queer kind of a lady wants to know if she can catch agrasshopper in the garden.'

 

　　'A what?' cried Mrs Jo, dropping her pen with a blot; for of all theodd requests ever made, this was the oddest.

 

　　'A grasshopper, ma'am. I said you was busy, and asked what shewanted, and says she: "I've got grasshoppers from the grounds ofseveral famous folks, and I want one from Plumfield to add to mycollection." Did you ever?' And Mary giggled again at the idea.

 

　　'Tell her to take all there are and welcome. I shall be glad to getrid of them; always bouncing in my face and getting in my dress,'

 

　　laughed Mrs Jo.

 

　　Mary retired, to return in a moment nearly speechless with merriment.

 

　　'She's much obliged, ma'am, and she'd like an old gown or a pair ofstockings of yours to put in a rug she's making. Got a vest ofEmerson's, she says, and a pair of Mr. Holmes's trousers, and a dressof Mrs Stowe's. She must be crazy!'

 

　　'Give her that old red shawl, then I shall make a gay show among thegreat ones in that astonishing rug. Yes, they are all lunatics, theselion-hunters; but this seems to be a harmless maniac, for she doesn'ttake my time, and gives me a good laugh,' said Mrs Jo, returning toher work after a glance from the window, which showed her a tall,thin lady in rusty black, skipping wildly to and fro on the lawn inpursuit of the lively insect she wanted.

 

　　No more interruptions till the light began to fade, then Mary poppedher head in to say a gentleman wished to see Mrs Bhaer, and wouldn'ttake no for an answer.

 

　　'He must. I shall not go down. This has been an awful day, and Iwon't be disturbed again,' replied the harassed authoress, pausing inthe midst of the grand finale of her chapter.

 

　　'I told him so, ma'am; but he walked right in as bold as brass. Iguess he's another crazy one, and I declare I'm 'most afraid of him,he's so big and black, and cool as cucumbers, though I will say he'sgood-looking,' added Mary, with a simper; for the stranger hadevidently found favour in her sight despite his boldness.

 

　　'My day has been ruined, and I will have this last half-hour tofinish. Tell him to go away; I won't go down,' cried Mrs Jo,fiercely.

 

　　Mary went; and listening, in spite of herself, her mistress heardfirst a murmur of voices, then a cry from Mary, and remembering theways of reporters, also that her maid was both pretty and timid, MrsBhaer flung down her pen and went to the rescue. Descending with hermost majestic air she demanded in an awe-inspiring voice, as shepaused to survey the somewhat brigandish intruder, who seemed to bestorming the staircase which Mary was gallantly defending:

 

　　'Who is this person who insists on remaining when I have declined tosee him?'

 

　　'I'm sure I don't know, ma'am. He won't give no name, and says you'llbe sorry if you don't see him,' answered Mary, retiring flushed andindignant from her post.

 

　　'Won't you be sorry?' asked the stranger, looking up with a pair ofblack eyes full of laughter, the flash of white teeth through a longbeard, and both hands out as he boldly approached the irate lady.

 

　　Mrs Jo gave one keen look, for the voice was familiar; then completedMary's bewilderment by throwing both arms round the brigand's neck,exclaiming joyfully: 'My dearest boy, where did you come from?'

 

　　'California, on purpose to see you, Mother Bhaer. Now won't you besorry if I go away?' answered Dan, with a hearty kiss.

 

　　'To think of my ordering you out of the house when I've been longingto see you for a year,' laughed Mrs Jo, and she went down to have agood talk with her returned wanderer, who enjoyed the joke immensely.