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Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood...Friday 22 January 2010
Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind her, looking both interested and a little perplexed, for it was a new thing to see Meg blushing and talking about admiration, lovers, and things of that sortAnd Jo felt as if during that fortnight her sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a world where she could not follow "Mother, do you have `plans', as MrsMoffat said?" asked Meg bashfully "Yes, my dear, I have a great many, all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from MrsI will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right, on a very serious subjectYou are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me, and mothers' lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like youJo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my `plans' and help me carry them out, if they are good Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some very solemn affairHolding a hand of each, and watching the two young faces wistfully, MrsMarch said, in her serious yet cheery way "I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and goodTo be admired, loved, and respectedTo have a happy youth, to be well and wisely wholesale gucci messenger bag married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to sendTo be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experienceIt is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joyMy dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wantingMoney is a needful and precious thing, and when well used, a noble thing, but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive forI'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace "Poor girls don't stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward," sighed Meg "Then we'll be old maids," said Jo stoutlyBetter be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly girls, running about to find husbands," said Mrs"Don't be troubled, Meg, poverty seldom daunts a sincere loverSome of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but buy a chanel bag so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maidsLeave these things to timeMake this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are notOne thing remember, my girlsMother is always ready to be your confidante, Father to be your friend, and both of hope and trust that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of out lives "We will, Marmee, we will!" cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good night CHAPTER TEN As spring came on, a new set of amusements became the fashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons for work and play of all sortsThe garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked withHannah used to say, "I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny," and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their charactersMeg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in itJo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experimentsThis year it was to be a plantation of sun flowers, the seeds of which cheerful land aspiring plant were to feed Aunt Cockle-top and her family of chicksBeth had old-fashioned fragrant flowers in her rolex fakes garden, sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the birds and catnip for the pussiesAmy had a bower in hers, rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, with honeysuckle and morning-glories hanging their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it, tall white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower hunts employed the fine days, and for rainy ones, they had house diversions, some old, some new, all more or less originalOne of these was the `P', for as secret societies were the fashion,it was thought proper to have one, and as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick ClubWith a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big `P' in different colors on each, and the weekly newspaper called, The Pickwick Portfolio, to which all contributed something, while Jo, who reveled in pens and ink, was the editorAt seven o'clock, the four members ascended to the clubroom, tied their tiffany heart link necklace badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnityMeg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick, Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass, Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel WinklePickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and short comingsPickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any glass, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and having stared hard at MrSnodgrass, who was tilting back in his chair, till he arranged himself properly, began to read: "THE PICKWICK PORTFOLIO" MAY 20, 18--- POET'S CORNER ANNIVERSARY ODE Again we meet to celebrate With badge and solemn rite, Our fifty-second anniversary, In Pickwick Hall, tonight We all are here in perfect health, None gone from our small band: Again we see each well-known face, And press each friendly hand Our Pickwick, always at his post, With reverence we greet, As, spectacles on nose, he reads Our well-filled weekly sheet Although he suffers from a cold, We joy to hear him speak, For words of wisdom from him fall, In spite of croak or ladies vintage cartier watches squ

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