says:

"Running away was one of my great delights, and I still enjoy sudden
flights out of the nest to look about this very interesting world and
then go back to report!"

On one of her investigating tours, she met some Irish children whose
friendliness delighted her, and she spent a wonderful day with them,
sharing their dinner of cold potatoes, salt fish and bread crusts.
Then--delightful pastime--they all played in the ash-heaps for some
time, and took a trip to the Common together. But when twilight came,
her new friends deserted her, leaving her a long way from home, and
little Louisa began to think very longingly of her mother and sister.
But as she did not know how to find her way back she sat down on a
door-step, where a big dog was lying. He was so friendly that she
cuddled up against his broad back and fell asleep. How long she slept
she did not know, but she was awakened by the loud ringing of a bell,
and a man's deep voice calling:

"Little girl lost! Six years old--in a pink frock, white hat and new
green shoes. Little girl lost! Little girl lost!"

It was the town crier, and as he rang his bell and gave his loud cry,
out of the darkness he heard a small voice exclaim:

"Why, dat's _me_!"

With great difficulty the crier was able to persuade the child to
unclasp her arms from the neck of the big friendly dog, but at last
she left him, and was taken to the crier's home and "feasted
sumptuously on bread and molasses in a tin plate with the alphabet
round it," while her frantic family was being notified. The unhappy
ending to that incident is very tersely told by Louisa, who says: "My
fun ended the next day, when I was tied to the arm of the sofa to
repent at leisure!"

That the six years spent in Boston were happy ones, and that the
budding spirit of Louisa was filled with joy at merely being alive,
was shown one morning, when, at the breakfast table, she suddenly
looked up with an all-embrasive smile and exclaimed:

"I love everybody in _dis_ whole world!"

Despite the merriment which was always a feature of the Alcott home,
as they were all blessed with a sense of humor which helped them over
many a hard place, there was an underlying anxiety for Mr. and Mrs.
Alcott, as the school was gradually growing smaller and there was
barely enough income to support their family, to which a third
daughter, Elizabeth, the "Beth" of _Little Women_, had been added
recently. During those days they lived on ve