bloomed; and a very nice bouquet we make with our buds about us,'
answered Mrs Amy, shaking out the folds of her rosy muslin with much
the air of dainty satisfaction the girl used to show in a new dress.

'Not to mention our thorns and dead leaves,' added Jo, with a sigh;
for life had never been very easy to her, and even now she had her
troubles both within and without.

'Come and have a dish of tea, old dear, and see what the young folks
are about. You are tired, and want to be "stayed with flagons and
comforted with apples",' said Laurie, offering an arm to each sister,
and leading them away to afternoon tea, which flowed as freely on
Parnassus as the nectar of old.

They found Meg in the summer-parlour, an airy and delightful room,
full now of afternoon sunshine and the rustle of trees; for the three
long windows opened on the garden. The great music-room was at one
end, and at the other, in a deep alcove hung with purple curtains, a
little household shrine had been made. Three portraits hung there,
two marble busts stood in the corners, and a couch, an oval table,
with its urn of flowers, were the only articles of furniture the nook
contained. The busts were John Brooke and Beth--Amy's work--both
excellent likenesses, and both full of the placid beauty which always
recalls the saying, that 'Clay represents life; plaster, death;
marble, immortality'. On the right, as became the founder of the
house, hung the portrait of Mr Laurence, with its expression of
mingled pride and benevolence, as fresh and attractive as when he
caught the girl Jo admiring it. Opposite was Aunt March--a legacy to
Amy--in an imposing turban, immense sleeves, and long mittens
decorously crossed on the front of her plum-coloured satin gown. Time