dash out as an heiress, scorn every one who has slighted you, go abroad, and come home my Lady Something, in a blaze of splendor and elegance."
"People don't have fortunes left them in that style nowadays; men have to work, and women to marry for money. It's a dreadfully unjust world," said Meg, bitterly.
"Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all; just wait ten years, and see if we don't," said Amy, who sat in a corner making "mud pies," as Hannah called her little clay models of birds, fruit and faces.
"Can't wait, and I'm afraid I haven't much faith in ink and dirt, though I'm grateful for your good intentions."
Meg sighed, and turned to the frost-bitten garden again; Jo groaned, and leaned both elbows on the table in a despondent attitude, but Amy spatted away energetically; and Beth, who sat at the other window, said, smiling, "Two pleasant things are going to happen right away; Marmee is coming down the street, and Laurie is tramping through the garden as if he had something nice to tell."
In they both came, Mrs. March with her usual question, "Any letter from father, girls?" and Laurie to say, in his persuasive way, "Won't some of you come for a drive? I've been pegging away at mathematics till my head is in a muddle, and I'm going to freshen my wits by a brisk turn. It's a dull day, but the air isn't bad, and I'm going to take Brooke home, so it will be gay inside, if it isn't out. Come, Jo, you and Beth will go, won't you?"
"Of course we will."
