that sounds
paradisiacal, but you'll find it desperate hard work."

"The crop we are going to raise is a profitable one," and Jo laughed.

"Of what is this fine crop to consist, ma'am?"

"Boys. I want to open a school for little lads--a good, happy,
homelike school, with me to take care of them and Fritz to teach them."

"That's a truly Joian plan for you! Isn't that just like her?" cried
Laurie, appealing to the family, who looked as much surprised as he.

"I like it," said Mrs. March decidedly.

"So do I," added her husband, who welcomed the thought of a chance for
trying the Socratic method of education on modern youth.

"It will be an immense care for Jo," said Meg, stroking the head of her
one all-absorbing son.

"Jo can do it, and be happy in it. It's a splendid idea. Tell us all
about it," cried Mr. Laurence, who had been longing to lend the lovers
a hand, but knew that they would refuse his help.

"I knew you'd stand by me, sir. Amy does too--I see it in her eyes,
though she prudently waits to turn it over in her mind before she
speaks. Now, my dear people," continued Jo earnestly, "just understand
that this isn't a new idea of mine, but a long cherished plan. Before
my Fritz came, I used to think how, when I'd made my fortune, and no
one needed me at home, I'd hire a big house, and pick up some poor,
forlorn little lads who hadn't any mothers, and take care of them, and
make life jolly for them before it was too late. I see so many going
to ruin for want of help at the right minute, I love so to do anything
for them, I seem to feel their wants, and sympathize with their
troubles, and oh, I should so like to be a mother to them!"

Mrs. March held out her hand to Jo, who took it, smiling, with tears in
her eyes, and went on in the old enthusiastic way, which they had not
seen for a long while.

"I told my plan to Fritz once, and he said it was just what he would
like, and agreed to try it when we got rich. Bless his dear heart,
he's been doing it all his life--helping poor boys, I mean, not getting
rich, that he'll never be. Money doesn't stay in his pocket long
enough to lay up any. But now, thanks to my good old aunt, who loved
me better than I ever deserved, I'm rich, at least I feel so, and we
can live at Plumfield perfectly well, if we have a flourishing school.
It's just the place for boys, the house is big, and the furniture
strong and plain. There's plenty of room for dozens inside