ou. Oh, Jo, the baby's dead!"

"What baby?"

"Mrs. Hummel's. It died in my lap before she got home," cried Beth
with a sob.

"My poor dear, how dreadful for you! I ought to have gone," said Jo,
taking her sister in her arms as she sat down in her mother's big
chair, with a remorseful face.

"It wasn't dreadful, Jo, only so sad! I saw in a minute it was sicker,
but Lottchen said her mother had gone for a doctor, so I took Baby and
let Lotty rest. It seemed asleep, but all of a sudden if gave a little
cry and trembled, and then lay very still. I tried to warm its feet,
and Lotty gave it some milk, but it didn't stir, and I knew it was
dead."

"Don't cry, dear! What did you do?"

"I just sat and held it softly till Mrs. Hummel came with the doctor.
He said it was dead, and looked at Heinrich and Minna, who have sore
throats. 'Scarlet fever, ma'am. Ought to have called me before,' he
said crossly. Mrs. Hummel told him she was poor, and had tried to cure
baby herself, but now it was too late, and she could only ask him to
help the others and trust to charity for his pay. He smiled then, and
was kinder, but it was very sad, and I cried with them till he turned
round all of a sudden, and told me to go home and take belladonna right
away, or I'd have the fever."

"No, you won't!" cried Jo, hugging her close, with a frightened look.
"Oh, Beth, if you should be sick I never could forgive myself! What
shall we do?"

"Don't be frightened, I guess I shan't have it badly. I looked in
Mother's book, and saw that it begins with headache, sore throat, and
queer feelings like mine, so I did take some belladonna, and I feel
better," said Beth, laying her cold hands on her hot forehead and
trying to look well.

"If Mother was only at home!" exclaimed Jo, seizing the book, and
feeling that Washington was an immense way off. She read a page,
looked at Beth, felt her head, peeped into her throat, and then said
gravely, "You've been over the baby every day for more than a week, and
among the others who are going to have it, so I'm afraid you are going
to have it, Beth. I'll call Hannah, she knows all about sickness."

"Don't let Amy come. She never had it, and I should hate to give it to
her. Can't you and Meg have it over again?" asked Beth, anxiously.

"I guess not. Don't care if I do. Serve me right, selfish pig, to let
you go, and stay writing rubbish myself!" muttered Jo, as she went to
consult Hannah.

T