s plaster
rabbit, because I am sorry I burned up her story.

To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little bureau,
my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can wear them being
thin when she gets well. And I herewith also leave her my regret that
I ever made fun of old Joanna.

To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeethe my paper mashay
portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did say it hadn't any
neck. Also in return for his great kindness in the hour of affliction
any one of my artistic works he likes, Noter Dame is the best.

To our venerable benefactor Mr. Laurence I leave my purple box with a
looking glass in the cover which will be nice for his pens and remind
him of the departed girl who thanks him for his favors to her family,
especially Beth.

I wish my favorite playmate Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron
and my gold-bead ring with a kiss.

To Hannah I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patchwork I leave
hoping she 'will remember me, when it you see'.

And now having disposed of my most valuable property I hope all will be
satisfied and not blame the dead. I forgive everyone, and trust we may
all meet when the trump shall sound. Amen.

To this will and testiment I set my hand and seal on this 20th day of
Nov. Anni Domino 1861.

Amy Curtis March

Witnesses:

Estelle Valnor, Theodore Laurence.

The last name was written in pencil, and Amy explained that he was to
rewrite it in ink and seal it up for her properly.

"What put it into your head? Did anyone tell you about Beth's giving
away her things?" asked Laurie soberly, as Amy laid a bit of red tape,
with sealing wax, a taper, and a standish before him.

She explained and then asked anxiously, "What about Beth?"

"I'm sorry I spoke, but as I did, I'll tell you. She felt so ill one
day that she told Jo she wanted to give her piano to Meg, her cats to
you, and the poor old doll to Jo, who would love it for her sake. She
was sorry she had so little to give, and left locks of hair to the rest
of us, and her best love to Grandpa. She never thought of a will."

Laurie was signing and sealing as he spoke, and did not look up till a
great tear dropped on the paper. Amy's face was full of trouble, but
she only said, "Don't people put sort of postscripts to their wills,
sometimes?"

"Yes, 'codicils', they call them."

"Put one in mine then, that I wish all my curls cut off, and given