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Money, fame, and plenty of the work I love, said Mrs Jo, carelessly rumpling up her hair as she clasped her hands over her head just as she used to do when a girl. 'I have had mine, and Amy is enjoying hers to her heart's content. If dear Marmee, John, and Beth were here, it would be quite perfect, added Meg, with a tender quiver in her voice; for Marmee's place was empty now.
In the place of honour, with the sunshine warm upon it, and a green garland always round it, was Marmee's beloved face, painted with grateful skill by a great artist whom she had befriended when poor and unknown. So beautifully lifelike was it that it seemed to smile down upon her daughters, saying cheerfully: 'Be happy; I am with you still.
It's strong and neat, so I ought not to complain, but I know I shall feel ashamed of it beside Annie's silk one with a gold top," sighed Meg, surveying the little umbrella with great disfavor. "Change it," advised Jo. "I won't be so silly, or hurt Marmee's feelings, when she took so much pains to get my things. It's a nonsensical notion of mine, and I'm not going to give up to it.
They all drank it merrily, and began the experiment by lounging for the rest of the day. Next morning, Meg did not appear till ten o'clock. Her solitary breakfast did not taste good, and the room seemed lonely and untidy, for Jo had not filled the vases, Beth had not dusted, and Amy's books lay scattered about. Nothing was neat and pleasant but 'Marmee's corner', which looked as usual.
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.
Laurie never forgets that," she said, putting the fresh nosegay in the vase that stood in 'Marmee's corner', and was kept supplied by the affectionate boy. "Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove," continued Beth, delivering the articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands. "Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one," said Meg, looking at the gray cotton glove.
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