“Call yourself any names you like, but I am neither a rascal nor a wretch and I don’t choose to be called so.”

“You’re a blighted being, and decidedly cross today because you can’t sit in the lap of luxury all the time.  Poor dear, just wait till I make my fortune, and you shall revel in carriages and ice cream and high-heeled slippers, and posies, and red-headed boys to dance with.”

“How ridiculous you are, Jo!” But Meg laughed at the nonsense and felt better in spite of herself.

“Lucky for you I am, for if I put on crushed airs and tried to be dismal, as you do, we should be in a nice state.  Thank goodness, I can always find something funny to keep me up.  Don’t croak any more, but come home jolly, there’s a dear.”

Jo gave her sister an encouraging pat on the shoulder as they parted for the day, each going a different way, each hugging her little warm turnover, and each trying to be cheerful in spite of wintry weather, hard work, and the unsatisfied desires of pleasure-loving youth.

When Mr. March lost his property in trying to help an unfortunate friend, the two oldest girls begged to be allowed to do something toward their own support, at least.  Believing that they could not begin too early to cultivate energy, industry, and independence, their parents consented, and both fell to work with the hearty good will which in spite of all obstacles is sure to succeed at last.

Margaret found a place as nursery governess and felt rich with her small salary.  As she said, she was ’fond of luxury’, and her chief trouble was poverty.  She found it harder to bear than the others because she could remember a time when home was beautiful, life full of ease and pleasure, and want of any kind unknown.  She tried not to be envious or discontented, but it was very natural that the young girl should long for pretty things, gay friends, accomplishments, and a happy life.  At the Kings’ she daily saw all she wanted, for the children’s older sisters were just out, and Meg caught frequent glimpses of dainty ball dresses and bouquets, heard lively gossip about theaters, concerts, sleighing parties, and merrymakings of all kinds, and saw money lavished on trifles which would have been so precious to her.  Poor Meg seldom complained, but a sense of injustice made her feel bitter toward everyone sometimes, for she had not yet learned to know how rich she was in the blessings which alone can make life happy.

Jo happened to suit Aunt March, who was lame and needed an active person to wait upon her.  The childless old lady had offered to adopt one of the girls when the troubles came, and was much offended because her offer was declined.  Other friends told the Marches that they had lost all chance of being remembered in the rich old lady’s will, but the unworldly Marches only said . . .

“We can’t give up our girls for a dozen fortunes.  Rich or poor, we will keep together and be happy in one another.”