decidedly frowned upon the poor boy's love, and would not hear of giving
her dear girl to any but the best man to be found on the face of the
earth. She was very kind, but as firm as such gentle souls can be; and
Nat fled for comfort to Mrs Jo, who always espoused the interests of
her boys heartily. A new set of anxieties was beginning now that the
aforesaid boys were growing up, and she foresaw no end of worry as well
as amusement in the love-affairs already budding in her flock. Mrs Meg
was usually her best ally and adviser, for she loved romances as well
now as when a blooming girl herself. But in this case she hardened her
heart, and would not hear a word of entreaty. 'Nat was not man enough,
never would be, no one knew his family, a musician's life was a hard
one; Daisy was too young, five or six years hence when time had proved
both perhaps. Let us see what absence will do for him.' And that was the
end of it, for when the maternal Pelican was roused she could be very
firm, though for her precious children she would have plucked her last
feather and given the last drop of her blood.

Mrs Jo was thinking of this as she looked at Nat while he talked
with her husband about Leipzig, and she resolved to have a clear
understanding with him before he went; for she was used to confidences,
and talked freely with her boys about the trials and temptations that
beset all lives in the beginning, and so often mar them, for want of the
right word at the right moment.

This is the first duty of parents, and no false delicacy should
keep them from the watchful care, the gentle warning, which makes
self-knowledge and self-control the compass and pilot of the young as
they leave the safe harbour of home.

'Plato and his disciples approach,' announced irreverent Teddy, as Mr
March came in with several young men and women about him; for the wise
old man was universally beloved, and ministered so beautifully to his
flock that many of them thanked him all their lives for the help given
to both hearts and souls.

Bess went to him at once; for since Marmee died, Grandpapa was her
special care, and it was sweet to see the golden head bend over the
silver one as she rolled out his easy-chair and waited on him with
tender alacrity.

'Aesthetic tea always on tap here, sir; will you have a flowing bowl
or a bit of ambrosia?' asked Laurie, who was wandering about with a
sugar-basin in one hand and a plate of cake in the other; for sweeten