much, and he played his best for that one quiet little listener; for
she never would come in, but preferred to sit sewing her gay
patchwork, or tending one of her many dolls, with an expression of
dreamy pleasure on her face that made Aunt Jo say, with tears in
her eyes: "So like my Beth," and go softly by, lest even her familiar
presence mar the child's sweet satisfaction.

Nat was very fond of Mrs. Bhaer, but found something even more
attractive in the good professor, who took fatherly care of the shy
feeble boy, who had barely escaped with his life from the rough
sea on which his little boat had been tossing rudderless for twelve
years. Some good angel must have been watching over him, for,
though his body had suffered, his soul seemed to have taken little
harm, and came ashore as innocent as a shipwrecked baby.
Perhaps his love of music kept it sweet in spite of the discord all
about him; Mr. Laurie said so, and he ought to know. However that
might be, Father Bhaer took pleasure in fostering poor Nat's
virtues, and in curing his faults, finding his new pupil as docile and
affectionate as a girl. He often called Nat his "daughter" when
speaking of him to Mrs. Jo, and she used to laugh at his fancy, for
Madame liked manly boys, and thought Nat amiable but weak,
though you never would have guessed it, for she petted him as she
did Daisy, and he thought her a very delightful woman.

One fault of Nat's gave the Bhaers much anxiety, although they
saw how it had been strengthened by fear and ignorance. I regret to
say that Nat sometimes told lies. Not very black ones, seldom
getting deeper than gray, and often the mildest of white fibs; but
that did not matter, a lie is a lie, and though we all tell many polite
untruths in this queer world of ours, it is not right, and everybody