“Hadn’t you rather have her marry a rich man?” asked Jo, as her mother’s voice faltered a little over the last words.

“Money is a good and useful thing, Jo, and I hope my girls will never feel the need of it too bitterly, nor be tempted by too much.  I should like to know that John was firmly established in some good business, which gave him an income large enough to keep free from debt and make Meg comfortable.  I’m not ambitious for a splendid fortune, a fashionable position, or a great name for my girls.  If rank and money come with love and virtue, also, I should accept them gratefully, and enjoy your good fortune, but I know, by experience, how much genuine happiness can be had in a plain little house, where the daily bread is earned, and some privations give sweetness to the few pleasures.  I am content to see Meg begin humbly, for if I am not mistaken, she will be rich in the possession of a good man’s heart, and that is better than a fortune.”

“I understand, Mother, and quite agree, but I’m disappointed about Meg, for I’d planned to have her marry Teddy by-and-by and sit in the lap of luxury all her days.  Wouldn’t it be nice?” asked Jo, looking up with a brighter face.

“He is younger than she, you know,” began Mrs. March, but Jo broke in . . .

“Only a little, he’s old for his age, and tall, and can be quite grown-up in his manners if he likes.  Then he’s rich and generous and good, and loves us all, and I say it’s a pity my plan is spoiled.”

“I’m afraid Laurie is hardly grown-up enough for Meg, and altogether too much of a weathercock just now for anyone to depend on.  Don’t make plans, Jo, but let time and their own hearts mate your friends.  We can’t meddle safely in such matters, and had better not get ‘romantic rubbish’ as you call it, into our heads, lest it spoil our friendship.”

“Well, I won’t, but I hate to see things going all crisscross and getting snarled up, when a pull here and a snip there would straighten it out.  I wish wearing flatirons on our heads would keep us from growing up.  But buds will be roses, and kittens cats, more’s the pity!”

“What’s that about flatirons and cats?” asked Meg, as she crept into the room with the finished letter in her hand.

“Only one of my stupid speeches.  I’m going to bed.  Come, Peggy,” said Jo, unfolding herself like an animated puzzle.

“Quite right, and beautifully written.  Please add that I send my love to John,” said Mrs. March, as she glanced over the letter and gave it back.

“Do you call him ’John’?” asked Meg, smiling, with her innocent eyes looking down into her mother’s.

“Yes, he has been like a son to us, and we are very fond of him,” replied Mrs. March, returning the look with a keen one.

“I’m glad of that, he is so lonely.  Good night, Mother, dear.  It is so inexpressibly comfortable to have you here,” was Meg’s answer.