'She's much obliged, ma'am, and she'd like an old gown or a pair of
stockings of yours to put in a rug she's making. Got a vest of
Emerson's, she says, and a pair of Mr. Holmes's trousers, and a dress
of Mrs Stowe's. She must be crazy!'

'Give her that old red shawl, then I shall make a gay show among the
great ones in that astonishing rug. Yes, they are all lunatics, these
lion-hunters; but this seems to be a harmless maniac, for she doesn't
take my time, and gives me a good laugh,' said Mrs Jo, returning to
her work after a glance from the window, which showed her a tall,
thin lady in rusty black, skipping wildly to and fro on the lawn in
pursuit of the lively insect she wanted.

No more interruptions till the light began to fade, then Mary popped
her head in to say a gentleman wished to see Mrs Bhaer, and wouldn't
take no for an answer.

'He must. I shall not go down. This has been an awful day, and I
won't be disturbed again,' replied the harassed authoress, pausing in
the midst of the grand finale of her chapter.

'I told him so, ma'am; but he walked right in as bold as brass. I
guess he's another crazy one, and I declare I'm 'most afraid of him,
he's so big and black, and cool as cucumbers, though I will say he's
good-looking,' added Mary, with a simper; for the stranger had
evidently found favour in her sight despite his boldness.

'My day has been ruined, and I will have this last half-hour to
finish. Tell him to go away; I won't go down,' cried Mrs Jo,