other had several boarders.
School for me, month after month. I earned a good deal by sewing in
the evening when my day's work was done."

Mr. Alcott returned from the west, and the account of his adventures
is very touching: "In February father came home. Paid his way, but no
more. A dramatic scene when he arrived in the night. We were awakened
by the bell. Mother flew down crying, My Husband. We rushed after and
five white figures embraced the half-frozen wanderer who came in,
hungry, tired, cold, and disappointed, but smiling bravely and as
serene as ever. We fed and warmed and brooded over him, longing to ask
if he had made any money; but no one did till little May said, after
he had told us all the pleasant things, 'Well, did people pay you?'
Then with a queer look he opened his pocket book, and showed one
dollar, saying with a smile, 'Only that. My overcoat was stolen, and I
had to buy a shawl. Many promises were not kept, and traveling is
costly; but I have opened the way, and another year shall do better.'
I shall never forget how beautifully mother answered him, though the
dear, hopeful soul had built much on his success: but with a beaming
face she kissed him, saying, 'I call that doing very well. Since you
are safely home, dear, we don't ask anything else.'"

One of Miss Alcott's unfulfilled purposes was to write a story
entitled "The Pathetic Family." This passage would have found a place
in it. It deserves to be said that Mr. Alcott's faith that he had
"opened a way and another year should do better," was justified.
Fifteen years later, from one of his western tours, he brought home
$700, but, thanks to Louisa's pen, the family were no longer in such
desperate need of money.

More than once Miss Alcott declares that no one ever assisted her in
her struggles, but that was far from true, as appears from many favors
acknowledged in her journal. It was by the kindness of a lady who
bought the manuscripts and assumed the risk of publication, that her
first book, "Flower Fables," was brought out in 1854. It consisted of
the fairy tales written six years before for the little Emersons. She
received $32.00, a sum which would have seemed insignificant thirty
years later when, in 1886, the sale of her books for six months
brought her $8,000; but she says, "I was prouder over the $32.00 than
over the $8,000."

The picture of Jo in a garret in "Little Women," planning and writing
stories, is drawn from Louisa's ex