THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH

    God bless you, dear Queen Bess! 
    May nothing you dismay,
    But health and peace and happiness
    Be yours, this Christmas day.

    Here’s fruit to feed our busy bee,
    And flowers for her nose. 
    Here’s music for her pianee,
    An afghan for her toes,

    A portrait of Joanna, see,
    By Raphael No. 2,
    Who laboured with great industry
    To make it fair and true.

    Accept a ribbon red, I beg,
    For Madam Purrer’s tail,
    And ice cream made by lovely Peg,
    A Mont Blanc in a pail.

    Their dearest love my makers laid
    Within my breast of snow. 
    Accept it, and the Alpine maid,
    From Laurie and from Jo.

How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down to bring in the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she presented them.

“I’m so full of happiness, that if Father was only here, I couldn’t hold one drop more,” said Beth, quite sighing with contentment as Jo carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement, and to refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the ‘Jungfrau’ had sent her.

“So am I,” added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the long-desired Undine and Sintram.

“I’m sure I am,” echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of the Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her in a pretty frame.

“Of course I am!” cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her first silk dress, for Mr. Laurence had insisted on giving it.  “How can I be otherwise?” said Mrs. March gratefully, as her eyes went from her husband’s letter to Beth’s smiling face, and her hand carressed the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast.

Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort it is.  Half an hour after everyone had said they were so happy they could only hold one drop more, the drop came.  Laurie opened the parlor door and popped his head in very quietly.  He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war whoop, for his face was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful that everyone jumped up, though he only said, in a queer, breathless voice, “Here’s another Christmas present for the March family.”

Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the eyes, leaning on the arm of another tall man, who tried to say something and couldn’t.  Of course there was a general stampede, and for several minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things were done, and no one said a word.