“She is lying down on mother’s bed, and feels better. The baby’s death troubled her, but I dare say she has only got cold. Hannah says she thinks so; but she looks worried, and that makes me fidgety,” answered Meg.

“What a trying world it is!” said Jo, rumpling up her hair in a fretful sort of way. “No sooner do we get out of one trouble than down comes another. There doesn’t seem to be anything to hold on to when mother’s gone; so I’m all at sea.”

“Well, don’t make a porcupine of yourself, it isn’t becoming. Settle your wig, Jo, and tell me if I shall telegraph to your mother, or do anything?” asked Laurie, who never had been reconciled to the loss of his friend’s one beauty.