, for being left alone
outside the safe home nest, she felt the need of some kind hand to hold
by so sorely that she instinctively turned to the strong and tender
Friend, whose fatherly love most closely surrounds His little children.
She missed her mother's help to understand and rule herself, but having
been taught where to look, she did her best to find the way and walk in
it confidingly. But, Amy was a young pilgrim, and just now her burden
seemed very heavy. She tried to forget herself, to keep cheerful, and
be satisfied with doing right, though no one saw or praised her for it.
In her first effort at being very, very good, she decided to make her
will, as Aunt March had done, so that if she did fall ill and die, her
possessions might be justly and generously divided. It cost her a pang
even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were
as precious as the old lady's jewels.

During one of her play hours she wrote out the important document as
well as she could, with some help from Esther as to certain legal
terms, and when the good-natured Frenchwoman had signed her name, Amy
felt relieved and laid it by to show Laurie, whom she wanted as a
second witness. As it was a rainy day, she went upstairs to amuse
herself in one of the large chambers, and took Polly with her for
company. In this room there was a wardrobe full of old-fashioned
costumes with which Esther allowed her to play, and it was her favorite
amusement to array herself in the faded brocades, and parade up and
down before the long mirror, making stately curtsies, and sweeping her
train about with a rustle which delighted her ears. So busy was she on
this day that she did not hear Laurie's ring nor see his face peeping
in at her as she gravely promenaded to and fro, flirting her fan and
tossing her head, on which she wore a great pink turban, contrasting
oddly with her blue brocade dress and yellow quilted petticoat. She
was obliged to walk carefully, for she had on high-heeled shoes, and, as
Laurie told Jo afterward, it was a comical sight to see her mince along
in her gay suit, with Polly sidling and bridling just behind her,
imitating her as well as he could, and occasionally stopping to laugh
or exclaim, "Ain't we fine? Get along, you fright! Hold your tongue!
Kiss me, dear! Ha! Ha!"

Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment, lest it
should offend her majesty, Laurie tapped and was graciously received.