'One peep at her sanctum since she is out,' cried the enthusiastic
lady, and swept across the hall with her flock before Teddy could
warn his mother, whose retreat had been cut off by the artist in
front, the reporter at the back of the house--for he hadn't gone and
the ladies in the hall.

'They've got her!' thought Teddy, in comical dismay. 'No use for her
to play housemaid since they've seen the portrait.'

Mrs Jo did her best, and being a good actress, would have escaped if
the fatal picture had not betrayed her. Mrs Parmalee paused at the
desk, and regardless of the meerschaum that lay there, the man's
slippers close by, and a pile of letters directed to 'Prof. F.
Bhaer', she clasped her hands, exclaiming impressively: 'Girls, this
is the spot where she wrote those sweet, those moral tales which have
thrilled us to the soul! Could I--ah, could I take one morsel of
paper, an old pen, a postage stamp even, as a memento of this gifted
woman?'

'Yes'm, help yourselves,' replied the maid, moving away with a glance
at the boy, whose eyes were now full of merriment he could not
suppress.

The oldest girl saw it, guessed the truth, and a quick look at the
woman in the apron confirmed her suspicion. Touching her mother, she
whispered: 'Ma, it's Mrs Bhaer herself. I know it is.'

'No? yes? it is! Well, I do declare, how nice that is!' And hastily
pursuing the unhappy woman, who was making for the door, Mrs Parmalee