“It’s a mercy you didn’t, mother!” laughed Jo, looking at her boots. “But we’ll have another play, some time, that he can see. Perhaps he’ll help act; wouldn’t that be jolly?”
“I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!” And Meg examined her flowers with great interest.
“They are lovely! But Beth’s roses are sweeter to me,” said Mrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt.
Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, “I wish I could send my bunch to father. I’m afraid he isn’t having such a merry Christmas as we are.”