Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, lookingat the fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spendingthe hour of dusk. No one disturbed her, and she used to liethere on Beth's little red pillow, planning stories, dreamingdreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemedfar away. Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad, for tomorrowwas her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the yearswent by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed tohave accomplished. Almost twenty-five, and nothing to show forit. Jo was mistaken in that. There was a good deal to show,and by-and-by she saw, and was grateful for it.

"An old maid, that's what I'm to be. A literary spinster,with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children, andtwenty years hence a morsel of fame, perhaps, when, like poorJohnson, I'm old and can't enjoy it, solitary, and can't shareit, independent, and don't need it. Well, I needn't be a soursaint nor a selfish sinner, and, I dare say, old maids are verycomfortable when they get used to it, but . . ." and there Josighed, as if the prospect was not inviting.

It seldom is, at first, and thirty seems the end of all thingsto five-and-twenty. But it's not as bad as it looks, and one canget on quite happily if one has something in one's self to fallback upon. At twenty-five, girls begin to talk about being oldmaids, but secretly resolve that they never will be. At thirtythey say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact, and ifsensible, console themselves by remembering that they have twentymore useful, happy years, in which they may be learning to growold gracefully. Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, foroften very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the heartsthat beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrificesof youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded facesbeautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters shouldbe kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetestpart of life, if for no other reason. And looking at themwith compassion, not contempt, girls in their bloom should rememberthat they too may miss the blossom time. That rosy cheeksdon't last forever, that silver threads will come in the bonniebrown hair, and that, by-and-by, kindness and respect will be assweet as love and admiration now.

Gentlemen, which means boys, be courteous to the old maids,no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalryworth having is that which is the readiest to pay deference tothe old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless ofrank, age, or color. Just recollect the good aunts who have notonly lectured and fussed, but nursed and petted, too often withoutthanks, the scrapes they have helped you out of, the tipsthey have given you from their small store, the stitches thepatient old fingers have set for you, the steps the willing oldfeet have taken, and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the littleattentions that women love to receive as long as they live. Thebright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits, and will like youall the better for them, and if death, almost the only power thatcan part mother and son, should rob you of yours, you will be sureto find a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some AuntPriscilla, who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely old heartfor 'the best nevvy in the world'.

Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has duringthis little homily), for suddenly Laurie's ghost seemed tostand before her, a substantial, lifelike ghost, leaning over herwith the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal anddidn't like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballad . . .

She could not think it he

and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully . . .

"Oh my Teddy! Oh my Teddy!"

"Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?"

"Glad! My blessed boy, words can't express my gladness.Where's Amy?"

"Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there bythe way, and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches."

"Your what?" cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two wordswith an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him.

"Oh, the dickens! Now I've done it," and he looked soguilty that Jo was down on him like a flash.

"You've gone and got married!"

"Yes, please, but I never will again," and he went downupon his knees, with a penitent clasping of hands, and a facefull of mischief, mirth, and triumph.

"Actually married?"

"Very much so, thank you."

"Mercy on us. What dreadful thing will you do next?" andJo fell into her seat with a gasp.

"A characteristic, but not exactly complimentary, congratulation,"returned Laurie, still in an abject attitude, but beamingwith satisfaction.

"What can you expect, when you take one's breath away, creepingin like a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Getup, you ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it."

"Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, andpromise not to barricade."

Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day,and patted the sofa invitingly, as she said in a cordial tone,"The old pillow is up garret, and we don't need it now. So, comeand 'fess, Teddy."

"How good it sounds to hear you say 'Teddy'! No one ever callsme that but you," and Laurie sat down with an air of great content.

"What does Amy call you?"

"My lord."

"That's like her. Well, you look it," and Jo's eye plainlybetrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever.

The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade, nevertheless,a natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of heart. Bothfelt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisiblebarrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directlyhowever, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity . . .

"Don't I look like a married man and the head of a family?"

"Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger andbonnier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever."

"Now really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect,"began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely.

"How can I, when the mere idea of you, married and settled,is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober!" answered Jo,smiling all over her face, so infectiously that they had anotherlaugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasantold fashion.

"It's no use your going out in the cold to get Amy, forthey are all coming up presently. I couldn't wait. I wanted tobe the one to tell you the grand surprise, and have 'first skim'as we used to say when we squabbled about the cream."

"Of course you did, and spoiled your story by beginning atthe wrong end. Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened.I'm pining to know."

"Well, I did it to please Amy," began Laurie, with a twinklethat made Jo exclaim . . .

"Fib number one. Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tellthe truth, if you can, sir."

"Now she's beginning to marm it. Isn't it jolly to hear her?"said Laurie to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if itquite agreed. "It's all the same, you know, she and I being one.We planned to come home with the Carrols, a month or more ago, butthey suddenly changed their minds, and decided to pass anotherwinter in Paris. But Grandpa wanted to come home. He went to pleaseme, and I couldn't let him go alone, neither could I leave Amy, andMrs. Carrol had got English notions about chaperons and such nonsense,and wouldn't let Amy come with us. So I just settled the difficultyby saying, 'Let's be married, and then we can do as we like'."

"Of course you did. You always have things to suit you."

"Not always," and something in Laurie's voice made Jo sayhastily . . .

"How did you ever get Aunt to agree?"

"It was hard work, but between us, we talked her over, for wehad heaps of good reasons on our side. There wasn't time to writeand ask leave, but you all liked it, had consented to it by-and-by,and it was only 'taking time by the fetlock', as my wife says."

"Aren't we proud of those two words, and don't we like to saythem?" interrupted Jo, addressing the fire in her turn, and watchingwith delight the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyesthat had been so tragically gloomy when she saw them last.

"A trifle, perhaps, she's such a captivating little woman Ican't help being proud of her. Well, then Uncle and Aunt werethere to play propriety. We were so absorbed in one another wewere of no mortal use apart, and that charming arrangement wouldmake everything easy all round, so we did it."

"When, where, how?" asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interestand curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle.

"Six weeks ago, at the American consul's, in Paris, a veryquiet wedding of course, for even in our happiness we didn't forgetdear little Beth."

Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gentlysmoothed the little red pillow, which he remembered well.

"Why didn't you let us know afterward?" asked Jo, in aquieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute.

"We wanted to surprise you. We thought we were comingdirectly home, at first, but the dear old gentleman, as soon aswe were married, found he couldn't be ready under a month, atleast, and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we liked.Amy had once called Valrosa a regular honeymoon home, so we wentthere, and were as happy as people are but once in their lives.My faith! Wasn't it love among the roses!"

Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad ofit, for the fact that he told her these things so freely and sonaturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten.She tried to draw away her hand, but as if he guessed the thoughtthat prompted the half-involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast,and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before . . .

"Jo, dear, I want to say one thing, and then we'll put it byforever. As I told you in my letter when I wrote that Amy hadbeen so kind to me, I never shall stop loving you, but the loveis altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is.Amy and you changed places in my heart, that's all. I think itwas meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I hadwaited, as you tried to make me, but I never could be patient, andso I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent,and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one,Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself.Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that Ididn't know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love youboth alike. But I couldn't, and when I saw her in Switzerland,everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got intoyour right places, and I felt sure that it was well off with theold love before it was on with the new, that I could honestlyshare my heart between sister Jo and wife Amy, and love them dearly.Will you believe it, and go back to the happy old times when wefirst knew one another?"

"I'll believe it, with all my heart, but, Teddy, we never canbe boy and girl again. The happy old times can't come back, and wemustn't expect it. We are man and woman now, with sober work to do,for playtime is over, and we must give up frolicking. I'm sure youfeel this. I see the change in you, and you'll find it in me. Ishall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admirehim more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can'tbe little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister,to love and help one another all our lives, won't we, Laurie?"

He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, andlaid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of thegrave of a boyish passion, there had risen a beautiful, strongfriendship to bless them both. Presently Jo said cheerfully, forshe didn't want the coming home to be a sad one, "I can't make it truethat you children are really married and going to set up housekeeping.Why, it seems only yesterday that I was buttoning Amy's pinafore,and pulling your hair when you teased. Mercy me, how time does fly!"

"As one of the children is older than yourself, you needn'ttalk so like a grandma. I flatter myself I'm a 'gentleman growed'as Peggotty said of David, and when you see Amy, you'll find herrather a precocious infant," said Laurie, looking amused at hermaternal air.

"You may be a little older in years, but I'm ever so mucholder in feeling, Teddy. Women always are, and this last year hasbeen such a hard one that I feel forty."

"Poor Jo! We left you to bear it alone, while we went pleasuring.You are older. Here's a line, and there's another. Unless you smile,your eyes look sad, and when I touched the cushion, just now,I found a tear on it. You've had a great deal to bear,and had to bear it all alone. What a selfish beast I've been!"and Laurie pulled his own hair, with a remorseful look.

But Jo only turned over the traitorous pillow, and answered,in a tone which she tried to make more cheerful, "No, I had Fatherand Mother to help me, and the dear babies to comfort me, and thethought that you and Amy were safe and happy, to make the troubleshere easier to bear. I am lonely, sometimes, but I dare say it'sgood for me, and . . ."

"You never shall be again," broke in Laurie, putting his armabout her, as if to fence out every human ill. "Amy and I can'tget on without you, so you must come and teach 'the children' tokeep house, and go halves in everything, just as we used to do,and let us pet you, and all be blissfully happy and friendlytogether."

"If I shouldn't be in the way, it would be very pleasant. Ibegin to feel quite young already, for somehow all my troublesseemed to fly away when you came. You always were a comfort, Teddy,"and Jo leaned her head on his shoulder, just as she did years ago,when Beth lay ill and Laurie told her to hold on to him.

He looked down at her, wondering if she remembered the time,but Jo was smiling to herself, as if in truth her troubles hadall vanished at his coming.

"You are the same Jo still, dropping tears about one minute,and laughing the next. You look a little wicked now. What is it,Grandma?"

"I was wondering how you and Amy get on together."

"Like angels!"

"Yes, of course, but which rules?"

"I don't mind telling you that she does now, at least I lether think so, it pleases her, you know. By-and-by we shall taketurns, for marriage, they say, halves one's rights and doublesone's duties."

"You'll go on as you begin, and Amy will rule you all thedays of your life."

"Well, she does it so imperceptibly that I don't think I shallmind much. She is the sort of woman who knows how to rule well. Infact, I rather like it, for she winds one round her finger as softlyand prettily as a skein of silk, and makes you feel as if she wasdoing you a favor all the while."

"That ever I should live to see you a henpecked husband andenjoying it!" cried Jo, with uplifted hands.

It was good to see Laurie square his shoulders, and smile withmasculine scorn at that insinuation, as he replied, with his "highand mighty" air, "Amy is too well-bred for that, and I am not thesort of man to submit to it. My wife and I respect ourselves andone another too much ever to tyrannize or quarrel."

Jo liked that, and thought the new dignity very becoming, butthe boy seemed changing very fast into the man, and regret mingledwith her pleasure.

"I am sure of that. Amy and you never did quarrel as we used to.She is the sun and I the wind, in the fable, and the sun managedthe man best, you remember."

"She can blow him up as well as shine on him," laughed Laurie."such a lecture as I got at Nice! I give you my word it was a dealworse than any of your scoldings, a regular rouser. I'll tell youall about it sometime, she never will, because after telling me thatshe despised and was ashamed of me, she lost her heart to the despicableparty and married the good-for-nothing."

"What baseness! Well, if she abuses you, come to me, and I'lldefend you."

"I look as if I needed it, don't I?" said Laurie, getting upand striking an attitude which suddenly changed from the imposingto the rapturous, as Amy's voice was heard calling, "Where is she?Where's my dear old Jo?"

In trooped the whole family, and everyone was hugged and kissedall over again, and after several vain attempts, the three wandererswere set down to be looked at and exulted over. Mr. Laurence, haleand hearty as ever, was quite as much improved as the others by hisforeign tour, for the crustiness seemed to be nearly gone, and theold-fashioned courtliness had received a polish which made it kindlierthan ever. It was good to see him beam at 'my children', as hecalled the young pair. It was better still to see Amy pay himthe daughterly duty and affection which completely won his old heart,and best of all, to watch Laurie revolve about the two, as if nevertired of enjoying the pretty picture they made.

The minute she put her eyes upon Amy, Meg became conscious thather own dress hadn't a Parisian air, that young Mrs. Mofffat would beentirely eclipsed by young Mrs. Laurence, and that 'her ladyship' wasaltogether a most elegant and graceful woman. Jo thought, as shewatched the pair, "How well they look together! I was right, andLaurie has found the beautiful, accomplished girl who will becomehis home better than clumsy old Jo, and be a pride, not a torment tohim." Mrs. March and her husband smiled and nodded at each otherwith happy faces, for they saw that their youngest had done well,not only in worldly things, but the better wealth of love, confidence,and happiness.

For Amy's face was full of the soft brightness which betokensa peaceful heart, her voice had a new tenderness in it, and the cool,prim carriage was changed to a gentle dignity, both womanly and winning.No little affectations marred it, and the cordial sweetnessof her manner was more charming than the new beauty or the old grace,for it stamped her at once with the unmistakable sign of the truegentlewoman she had hoped to become.

"Love has done much for our little girl," said her mother softly.

"She has had a good example before her all her life, my dear,"Mr. March whispered back, with a loving look at the worn face andgray head beside him.

Daisy found it impossible to keep her eyes off her 'pitty aunty',but attached herself like a lap dog to the wonderful chatelaine fullof delightful charms. Demi paused to consider the new relationshipbefore he compromised himself by the rash acceptance of a bribe,which took the tempting form of a family of wooden bears from Berne.A flank movement produced an unconditional surrender, however, forLaurie knew where to have him.

"Young man, when I first had the honor of making your acquaintanceyou hit me in the face. Now I demand the satisfaction of agentleman," and with that the tall uncle proceeded to toss andtousle the small nephew in a way that damaged his philosophicaldignity as much as it delighted his boyish soul.

"Blest if she ain't in silk from head to foot; ain't it a relishin' sight to see her settin' there as fine as a fiddle, and hear folks calling little Amy 'Mis. Laurence!'" muttered old Hannah, who could not resist frequent "peeks" through the slide as she set the tablein a most decidedly promiscuous manner.

Mercy on us, how they did talk! first one, then the other, then allburst out together - trying to tell the history of three years inhalf an hour. It was fortunate that tea was at hand, to produce alull and provide refreshment - for they would have been hoarse andfaint if they had gone on much longer. Such a happy procession asfiled away into the little dining room! Mr. March proudly escortedMrs. Laurence. Mrs. March as proudly leaned on the arm of 'my son'.The old gentleman took Jo, with a whispered, "You must be my girlnow," and a glance at the empty corner by the fire, that made Jowhisper back, "I'll try to fill her place, sir."

The twins pranced behind, feeling that the millennium was athand, for everyone was so busy with the newcomers that they wereleft to revel at their own sweet will, and you may be sure theymade the most of the opportunity. Didn't they steal sips of tea,stuff gingerbread ad libitum, get a hot biscuit apiece, and as acrowning trespass, didn't they each whisk a captivating little tartinto their tiny pockets, there to stick and crumble treacherously,teaching them that both human nature and a pastry are frail?Burdened with the guilty consciousness of the sequestered tarts,and fearing that Dodo's sharp eyes would pierce the thin disguise ofcambric and merino which hid their booty, the little sinnersattached themselves to 'Dranpa', who hadn't his spectacles on. Amy,who was handed about like refreshments, returned to the parlor onFather Laurence's arm. The others paired off as before, and thisarrangement left Jo companionless. She did not mind it at theminute, for she lingered to answer Hannah's eager inquiry.

"Will Miss Amy ride in her coop (coupe), and use all themlovely silver dishes that's stored away over yander?"

"Shouldn't wonder if she drove six white horses, ate off goldplate, and wore diamonds and point lace every day. Teddy thinksnothing too good for her," returned Jo with infinite satisfaction.

"No more there is! Will you have hash or fishballs for breakfast?"asked Hannah, who wisely mingled poetry and prose.

"I don't care," and Jo shut the door, feeling that food was anuncongenial topic just then. She stood a minute looking at theparty vanishing above, and as Demi's short plaid legs toiled up thelast stair, a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so stronglythat she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something tolean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known whatbirthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she wouldnot have said to herself, "I'll weep a little weep when I go to bed.It won't do to be dismal now." Then she drew her hand over her eyes,for one of her boyish habits was never to know where herhandkerchief was, and had just managed to call up a smile whenthere came a knock at the porch door.

She opened with hospitable haste, and started as if anotherghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall beardedgentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.

"Oh, Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!" cried Jo, with aclutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up beforeshe could get him in.

"And I to see Miss Marsch, but no, you haf a party," and theProfessor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancingfeet came down to them.

"No, we haven't, only the family. My sister and friendshave just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, andmake one of us."

Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gonedecorously away, and come again another day, but how could he,when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat?Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgotto hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a franknessthat proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome farexceeded his boldest hopes.

"If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly seethem all. You haf been ill, my friend?"

He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat,the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.

"Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had troublesince I saw you last."

"Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heardthat," and he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic facethat Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kindeyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.

"Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer," shesaid, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride andpleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and openedthe door with a flourish.

If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, theywere set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received.Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo's sake at first, but verysoon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, forhe carried the talisman that opens all hearts, and these simplepeople warmed to him at once, feeling even the more friendlybecause he was poor. For poverty enriches those who live aboveit, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr.Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler whoknocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself athome. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, andestablishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate himby rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating hiswatch, with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed theirapproval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had gota kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest'sbenefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, butsaid not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go tosleep.

If Jo had not been otherwise engaged, Laurie's behaviorwould have amused her, for a faint twinge, not of jealousy, butsomething like suspicion, caused that gentleman to stand aloofat first, and observe the newcomer with brotherly circumspection.But it did not last long. He got interested in spite of himself,and before he knew it, was drawn into the circle. For Mr. Bhaertalked well in this genial atmosphere, and did himself justice.He seldom spoke to Laurie, but he looked at him often, and ashadow would pass across his face, as if regretting his own lostyouth, as he watched the young man in his prime. Then his eyeswould turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answeredthe mute inquiry if she had seen it. But Jo had her own eyes totake care of, and feeling that they could not be trusted, sheprudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like amodel maiden aunt.

A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips offresh water after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps showedher several propitious omens. Mr. Bhaer's face had lost theabsent-minded expression, and looked all alive with interest inthe present moment, actually young and handsome, she thought,forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she usually did strangemen, to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired,though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the conversationhad strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic.Jo quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched inan argument, and thought to herself, as she watched her father'sabsorbed face, "How he would enjoy having such a man as my Professorto talk with every day!" Lastly, Mr. Bhaer was dressedin a new suit of black, which made him look more like a gentlemanthan ever. His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed, butdidn't stay in order long, for in exciting moments, he rumpledit up in the droll way he used to do, and Jo liked it rampantlyerect better than flat, because she thought it gave his fineforehead a Jove-like aspect. Poor Jo, how she did glorify thatplain man, as she sat knitting away so quietly, yet lettingnothing escape her, not even the fact that Mr. Bhaer actuallyhad gold sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wristbands.

"Dear old fellow! He couldn't have got himself up with more care ifhe'd been going a-wooing," said Jo to herself, and then a suddenthought born of the words made her blush so dreadfully that she hadto drop her ball, and go down after it to hide her face.

The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected, however,for though just in the act of setting fire to a funeralpyre, the Professor dropped his torch, metaphorically speaking,and made a dive after the little blue ball. Of course theybumped their heads smartly together, saw stars, and both cameup flushed and laughing, without the ball, to resume their seats,wishing they had not left them.

Nobody knew where the evening went to, for Hannah skillfullyabstracted the babies at an early hour, nodding like two rosypoppies, and Mr. Laurence went home to rest. The others sat roundthe fire, talking away, utterly regardless of the lapse of time,till Meg, whose maternal mind was impressed with a firm convictionthat Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi set his nightgown afirestudying the structure of matches, made a move to go.

"We must have our sing, in the good old way, for we are alltogether again once more," said Jo, feeling that a good shoutwould be a safe and pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions ofher soul.

They were not all there. But no one found the words thougtlessor untrue, for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence,invisible, but dearer than ever, since death could not breakthe household league that love made disoluble. The littlechair stood in its old place. The tidy basket, with the bit ofwork she left unfinished when the needle grew 'so heavy', wasstill on its accustomed shelf. The beloved instrument, seldomtouched now had not been moved, and above it Beth's face, sereneand smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon them, seemingto say, "Be happy. I am here."

"Play something, Amy. Let them hear how much you have improved,"said Laurie, with pardonable pride in his promising pupil.

But Amy whispered, with full eyes, as she twirled the fadedstool, "Not tonight, dear. I can't show off tonight."

But she did show something better than brilliancy or skill,for she sang Beth's songs with a tender music in her voice whichthe best master could not have taught, and touched the listener'shearts with a sweeter power than any other inspiration could havegiven her. The room was very still, when the clear voice failedsuddenly at the last line of Beth's favorite hymn. It was hardto say . . .

and Amy leaned against her husband, who stood behind her, feelingthat her welcome home was not quite perfect without Beth's kiss.

"Now, we must finish with Mignon's song, for Mr. Bhaer singsthat," said Jo, before the pause grew painful. And Mr. Bhaercleared his throat with a gratified "Hem!" as he stepped into thecorner where Jo stood, saying . . .

"You will sing with me? We go excellently well together."

A pleasing fiction, by the way, for Jo had no more idea of musicthan a grasshopper. But she would have consented if he had proposedto sing a whole opera, and warbled away, blissfully regardless oftime and tune. It didn't much matter, for Mr. Bhaer sang like a trueGerman, heartily and well, and Jo soon subsided into a subdued hum,that she might listen to the mellow voice that seemed to sing forher alone.

used to be the Professor's favorite line, for 'das land' meantGermany to him, but now he seemed to dwell, with peculiar warmthand melody, upon the words . . .

and one listener was so thrilled by the tender invitation that shelonged to say she did know the land, and would joyfully departthither whenever he liked.

The song was considered a great success, and the singer retiredcovered with laurels. But a few minutes afterward, he forgot hismanners entirely, and stared at Amy putting on her bonnet, for shehad been introduced simply as 'my sister', and no one had calledher by her new name since he came. He forgot himself still furtherwhen Laurie said, in his most gracious manner, at parting . . .

"My wife and I are very glad to meet you, sir. Please rememberthat there is always a welcome waiting for you over the way."

Then the Professor thanked him so heartily, and looked sosuddenly illuminated with satisfaction, that Laurie thought himthe most delightfully demonstrative old fellow he ever met.

"I too shall go, but I shall gladly come again, if you willgif me leave, dear madame, for a little business in the city willkeep me here some days."

He spoke to Mrs. March, but he looked at Jo, and the mother'svoice gave as cordial an assent as did the daughter's eyes, forMrs. March was not so blind to her children's interest as Mrs.Moffat supposed.

"I suspect that is a wise man," remarked Mr. March, withplacid satisfaction, from the hearthrug, after the last guest hadgone.

"I know he is a good one," added Mrs. March, with decidedapproval, as she wound up the clock.

"I thought you'd like him," was all Jo said, as she slippedaway to her bed.

She wondered what the business was that brought Mr. Bhaer tothe city, and finally decided that he had been appointed to somegreat honor, somewhere, but had been too modest to mention thefact. If she had seen his face when, safe in his own room, helooked at the picture of a severe and rigid young lady, with agood deal of hair, who appeared to be gazing darkly into futurity,it might have thrown some light upon the subject, especially whenhe turned off the gas, and kissed the picture in the dark.