“Father and Mother don’t think so.  They like John though he is poor.”

“Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than a pair of babies.”

“I’m glad of it,” cried Meg stoutly.

Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture.  “This Rook is poor and hasn’t got any rich relations, has he?”

“No, but he has many warm friends.”

“You can’t live on friends, try it and see how cool they’ll grow.  He hasn’t any business, has he?”

“Not yet.  Mr. Laurence is going to help him.”

“That won’t last long.  James Laurence is a crotchety old fellow and not to be depended on.  So you intend to marry a man without money, position, or business, and go on working harder than you do now, when you might be comfortable all your days by minding me and doing better?  I thought you had more sense, Meg.”

“I couldn’t do better if I waited half my life!  John is good and wise, he’s got heaps of talent, he’s willing to work and sure to get on, he’s so energetic and brave.  Everyone likes and respects him, and I’m proud to think he cares for me, though I’m so poor and young and silly,” said Meg, looking prettier than ever in her earnestness.

“He knows you have got rich relations, child.  That’s the secret of his liking, I suspect.”

“Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing?  John is above such meanness, and I won’t listen to you a minute if you talk so,” cried Meg indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of the old lady’s suspicions.  “My John wouldn’t marry for money, any more than I would.  We are willing to work and we mean to wait.  I’m not afraid of being poor, for I’ve been happy so far, and I know I shall be with him because he loves me, and I . . .”

Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn’t made up her mind, that she had told ‘her John’ to go away, and that he might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks.

Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having her pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl’s happy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour.

“Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair!  You are a willful child, and you’ve lost more than you know by this piece of folly.  No, I won’t stop.  I’m disappointed in you, and haven’t spirits to see your father now.  Don’t expect anything from me when you are married.  Your Mr. Brooke’s friends must take care of you.  I’m done with you forever.”

And slamming the door in Meg’s face, Aunt March drove off in high dudgeon.  She seemed to take all the girl’s courage with her, for when left alone, Meg stood for a moment, undecided whether to laugh or cry.  Before she could make up her mind, she was taken possession of by Mr. Brooke, who said all in one breath, “I couldn’t help hearing, Meg.  Thank you for defending me, and Aunt March for proving that you do care for me a little bit.”