do my lessons every day, and not spend so much time with my music
and dolls. I am a stupid thing, and ought to be studying, not
playing," was Beth's resolution, while Amy followed their example by
heroically declaring, "I shall learn to make buttonholes, and attend to
my parts of speech."

"Very good! Then I am quite satisfied with the experiment, and fancy
that we shall not have to repeat it, only don't go to the other extreme
and delve like slaves. Have regular hours for work and play, make each
day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth
of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age
will bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite
of poverty."

"We'll remember, Mother!" and they did.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CAMP LAURENCE

Beth was postmistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it
regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door
and distributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands
full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels like the
penny post.

"Here's your posy, Mother! 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. "Didn't you drop the other in the
garden?"

"No, I'm sure I didn't, for there was only one in the office."

"I hate to have odd gloves! Never mind, the other may be found. My
letter is only a translation of the German song I wanted. I think Mr.
Brooke did it, for this isn't Laurie's writing."

Mrs. March glanced at Meg, who was looking very pretty in her gingham
morning gown, with the little curls blowing about her forehead, and
very womanly, as she sat sewing at her little worktable, full of tidy
white rolls, so unconscious of the thought in her mother's mind as she
sewed and sang, while her fingers flew and her thoughts were busied
with girlish fancies as innocent and fresh as the pansies in her belt,
that Mrs. March smiled and was satisfied.

"Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered
the whole post office and stuck outside," said Beth, laughing as she
went into the stud