“To hear is to obey, but March is fairer far than May,” said little Parker, making a frantic effort to be both witty and tender, and getting promptly quenched by Laurie, who said . . .

“Very well, my son, for a small boy!” and walked him off, with a paternal pat on the head.

“Buy the vases,” whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of coals of fire on her enemy’s head.

To May’s great delight, Mr. Laurence not only bought the vases, but pervaded the hall with one under each arm.  The other gentlemen speculated with equal rashness in all sorts of frail trifles, and wandered helplessly about afterward, burdened with wax flowers, painted fans, filigree portfolios, and other useful and appropriate purchases.

Aunt Carrol was there, heard the story, looked pleased, and said something to Mrs. March in a corner, which made the latter lady beam with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till several days later.

The fair was pronounced a success, and when May bade Amy goodnight, she did not gush as usual, but gave her an affectionate kiss, and a look which said ‘forgive and forget’.  That satisfied Amy, and when she got home she found the vases paraded on the parlor chimney piece with a great bouquet in each.  “The reward of merit for a magnanimous March,” as Laurie announced with a flourish.

“You’ve a deal more principle and generosity and nobleness of character than I ever gave you credit for, Amy.  You’ve behaved sweetly, and I respect you with all my heart,” said Jo warmly, as they brushed their hair together late that night.

“Yes, we all do, and love her for being so ready to forgive.  It must have been dreadfully hard, after working so long and setting your heart on selling your own pretty things.  I don’t believe I could have done it as kindly as you did,” added Beth from her pillow.

“Why, girls, you needn’t praise me so.  I only did as I’d be done by.  You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how.  I can’t explain exactly, but I want to be above the little meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women.  I’m far from it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what Mother is.”

Amy spoke earnestly, and Jo said, with a cordial hug, “I understand now what you mean, and I’ll never laugh at you again.  You are getting on faster than you think, and I’ll take lessons of you in true politeness, for you’ve learned the secret, I believe.  Try away, deary, you’ll get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall.”

A week later Amy did get her reward, and poor Jo found it hard to be delighted.  A letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March’s face was illuminated to such a degree when she read it that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded what the glad tidings were.