r husband, as they drove away.

"Laurie, my lad, if you ever want to indulge in this sort of thing, get
one of those little girls to help you, and I shall be perfectly
satisfied," said Mr. Laurence, settling himself in his easy chair to
rest after the excitement of the morning.

"I'll do my best to gratify you, Sir," was Laurie's unusually dutiful
reply, as he carefully unpinned the posy Jo had put in his buttonhole.

The little house was not far away, and the only bridal journey Meg had
was the quiet walk with John from the old home to the new. When she
came down, looking like a pretty Quakeress in her dove-colored suit and
straw bonnet tied with white, they all gathered about her to say
'good-by', as tenderly as if she had been going to make the grand tour.

"Don't feel that I am separated from you, Marmee dear, or that I love
you any the less for loving John so much," she said, clinging to her
mother, with full eyes for a moment. "I shall come every day, Father,
and expect to keep my old place in all your hearts, though I am
married. Beth is going to be with me a great deal, and the other girls
will drop in now and then to laugh at my housekeeping struggles. Thank
you all for my happy wedding day. Good-by, good-by!"

They stood watching her, with faces full of love and hope and tender
pride as she walked away, leaning on her husband's arm, with her hands
full of flowers and the June sunshine brightening her happy face--and
so Meg's married life began.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ARTISTIC ATTEMPTS

It takes people a long time to learn the difference between talent and
genius, especially ambitious young men and women. Amy was learning
this distinction through much tribulation, for mistaking enthusiasm for
inspiration, she attempted every branch of art with youthful audacity.
For a long time there was a lull in the 'mud-pie' business, and she
devoted herself to the finest pen-and-ink drawing, in which she showed
such taste and skill that her graceful handiwork proved both pleasant
and profitable. But over-strained eyes caused pen and ink to be laid
aside for a bold attempt at poker-sketching. While this attack lasted,
the family lived in constant fear of a conflagration, for the odor of
burning wood pervaded the house at all hours, smoke issued from attic
and shed with alarming frequency, red-hot pokers lay about
promiscuously, and Hannah never went to bed without a pail of water and
the dinner bell at her do