ung sufferers
seldom can resist.

As Emil was helping nurse Captain Hardy, safe and well, aboard the ship,
all this sorrow would seem wasted; but it was not, for it drew many
hearts more closely together by a common grief, taught some patience,
some sympathy, some regret for faults that lie heavy on the conscience
when the one sinned against is gone, and all of them the solemn lesson
to be ready when the summons comes. A hush lay over Plumfield for weeks,
and the studious faces on the hill reflected the sadness of those in the
valley. Sacred music sounded from Parnassus to comfort all who heard;
the brown cottage was beseiged with gifts for the little mourner, and
Emil's flag hung at half-mast on the roof where he last sat with Mrs Jo.

So the weeks went heavily by till suddenly, like a thunderbolt out of a
clear sky, came the news, 'All safe, letters on the way.' Then up went
the flag, out rang the college bells, bang went Teddy's long-unused
cannon, and a chorus of happy voices cried 'Thank God', as people went
about, laughing, crying, and embracing one another in a rapture of
delight. By and by the longed-for letters came, and all the story of the
wreck was told; briefly by Emil, eloquently by Mrs Hardy, gratefully by
the captain, while Mary added a few tender words that went straight to
their hearts and seemed the sweetest of all. Never were letters so read,
passed round, admired, and cried over as these; for Mrs Jo carried them
in her pocket when Mr Bhaer did not have them in his, and both took a
look at them when they said their prayers at night. Now the Professor
was heard humming like a big bee again as he went to his classes, and
the lines smoothed out of Mother Bhaer's forehead, while she wrote this
real story to anxious friends and let her romances wait. Now messages
of congratulation flowed in, and beaming faces showed everywhere. Rob
amazed his parents by producing a poem which was remarkably good for one
of his years, and Demi set it to music that it might be sung when the
sailor boy returned. Teddy stood on his head literally, and tore about
the neighbourhood on Octoo, like a second Paul Revere--only his tidings
were good. But best of all, little Josie lifted up her head as the
snowdrops did, and began to bloom again, growing tall and quiet, with
the shadow of past sorrow to tone down her former vivacity and show
that she had learned a lesson in trying to act well her part on the real
stage, where all ha