y where Jo sat writing.

"What a sly fellow Laurie is! I said I wished bigger hats were the
fashion, because I burn my face every hot day. He said, 'Why mind the
fashion? Wear a big hat, and be comfortable!' I said I would if I had
one, and he has sent me this, to try me. I'll wear it for fun, and
show him I don't care for the fashion." And hanging the antique
broad-brim on a bust of Plato, Jo read her letters.

One from her mother made her cheeks glow and her eyes fill, for it said
to her...

My Dear:

I write a little word to tell you with how much satisfaction I watch
your efforts to control your temper. You say nothing about your
trials, failures, or successes, and think, perhaps, that no one sees
them but the Friend whose help you daily ask, if I may trust the
well-worn cover of your guidebook. I, too, have seen them all, and
heartily believe in the sincerity of your resolution, since it begins
to bear fruit. Go on, dear, patiently and bravely, and always believe
that no one sympathizes more tenderly with you than your loving...

Mother

"That does me good! That's worth millions of money and pecks of
praise. Oh, Marmee, I do try! I will keep on trying, and not get
tired, since I have you to help me."

Laying her head on her arms, Jo wet her little romance with a few happy
tears, for she had thought that no one saw and appreciated her efforts
to be good, and this assurance was doubly precious, doubly encouraging,
because unexpected and from the person whose commendation she most
valued. Feeling stronger than ever to meet and subdue her Apollyon,
she pinned the note inside her frock, as a shield and a reminder, lest
she be taken unaware, and proceeded to open her other letter, quite
ready for either good or bad news. In a big, dashing hand, Laurie
wrote...

Dear Jo, What ho!

Some English girls and boys are coming to see me tomorrow and I want to
have a jolly time. If it's fine, I'm going to pitch my tent in
Longmeadow, and row up the whole crew to lunch and croquet--have a
fire, make messes, gypsy fashion, and all sorts of larks. They are
nice people, and like such things. Brooke will go to keep us boys
steady, and Kate Vaughn will play propriety for the girls. I want you
all to come, can't let Beth off at any price, and nobody shall worry
her. Don't bother about rations, I'll see to that and everything else,
only do come, there's a good fellow!

In a tearing hurry, Yours ever, La