t March went today, for which, oh, be joyful!" said Jo. "I was
mortally afraid she'd ask me to go with her. If she had, I should have
felt as if I ought to do it, but Plumfield is about as gay as a
churchyard, you know, and I'd rather be excused. We had a flurry
getting the old lady off, and I had a fright every time she spoke to
me, for I was in such a hurry to be through that I was uncommonly
helpful and sweet, and feared she'd find it impossible to part from me.
I quaked till she was fairly in the carriage, and had a final fright,
for as it drove of, she popped out her head, saying, 'Josyphine, won't
you--?' I didn't hear any more, for I basely turned and fled. I did
actually run, and whisked round the corner where I felt safe."

"Poor old Jo! She came in looking as if bears were after her," said
Beth, as she cuddled her sister's feet with a motherly air.

"Aunt March is a regular samphire, is she not?" observed Amy, tasting
her mixture critically.

"She means vampire, not seaweed, but it doesn't matter. It's too warm
to be particular about one's parts of speech," murmured Jo.

"What shall you do all your vacation?" asked Amy, changing the subject
with tact.

"I shall lie abed late, and do nothing," replied Meg, from the depths
of the rocking chair. "I've been routed up early all winter and had to
spend my days working for other people, so now I'm going to rest and
revel to my heart's content."

"No," said Jo, "that dozy way wouldn't suit me. I've laid in a heap of
books, and I'm going to improve my shining hours reading on my perch in
the old apple tree, when I'm not having l----"

"Don't say 'larks!'" implored Amy, as a return snub for the 'samphire'
correction.

"I'll say 'nightingales' then, with Laurie. That's proper and
appropriate, since he's a warbler."

"Don't let us do any lessons, Beth, for a while, but play all the time
and rest, as the girls mean to," proposed Amy.

"Well, I will, if Mother doesn't mind. I want to learn some new songs,
and my children need fitting up for the summer. They are dreadfully
out of order and really suffering for clothes."

"May we, Mother?" asked Meg, turning to Mrs. March, who sat sewing in
what they called 'Marmee's corner'.

"You may try your experiment for a week and see how you like it. I
think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as
bad as all work and no play."

"Oh, dear, no! It will be delicious, I'm sure," said Meg c