did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo, as they looked out
in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done.

"It looks like a fairy world," said Meg, smiling to herself, as she
stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight.

"Hark!" cried Jo, starting to her feet.

Yes, there was a sound of bells at the door below, a cry from Hannah,
and then Laurie's voice saying in a joyful whisper, "Girls, she's come!
She's come!"

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AMY'S WILL

While these things were happening at home, Amy was having hard times at
Aunt March's. She felt her exile deeply, and for the first time in her
life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home. Aunt March
never petted any one; she did not approve of it, but she meant to be
kind, for the well-behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt
March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children,
though she didn't think it proper to confess it. She really did her
best to make Amy happy, but, dear me, what mistakes she made. Some old
people keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, can
sympathize with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at
home, and can hide wise lessons under pleasant plays, giving and
receiving friendship in the sweetest way. But Aunt March had not this
gift, and she worried Amy very much with her rules and orders, her prim
ways, and long, prosy talks. Finding the child more docile and amiable
than her sister, the old lady felt it her duty to try and counteract,
as far as possible, the bad effects of home freedom and indulgence. So
she took Amy by the hand, and taught her as she herself had been taught
sixty years ago, a process which carried dismay to Amy's soul, and made
her feel like a fly in the web of a very strict spider.

She had to wash the cups every morning, and polish up the old-fashioned
spoons, the fat silver teapot, and the glasses till they shone. Then
she must dust the room, and what a trying job that was. Not a speck
escaped Aunt March's eye, and all the furniture had claw legs and much
carving, which was never dusted to suit. Then Polly had to be fed, the
lap dog combed, and a dozen trips upstairs and down to get things or
deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame and seldom left her big
chair. After these tiresome labors, she must do her lessons, which was
a daily trial of every virtue she possessed. Then she was allowed one
hour for exercise or play