E-text prepared by Josephine Paolucci and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
By
Louisa M. Alcott
Author of "Little Women," etc.
Originally published under the title
1882
[Illustration: Deeper in the wood sounded the measured ring of axes]
Being forbidden to write anything at present I have collected variouswaifs and strays to appease the young people who clamor for more,forgetting that mortal brains need rest.
As many girls have asked to see what sort of tales Jo March wrote atthe beginning of her career, I have added "The Baron's Gloves," as asample of the romantic rubbish which paid so well once upon a time. Ifit shows them what not to write it will not have been rescued fromoblivion in vain.
"A stitch in time saves nine."
"O Pris, Pris, I'm really going! Here's the invitation—roughpaper—Chapel—spreads—Lyceum Hall—everything splendid; and Jack totake care of me!"
As Kitty burst into the room and performed a rapturous pas seul,waving the cards over her head, sister Priscilla looked up from herwork with a smile of satisfaction on her quiet face.
"Who invites you, dear?"
"Why, Jack, of course,—dear old cousin Jack. Nobody else ever thinksof me, or cares whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. Isn'the kind? Mayn't I go? and, O Pris, what shall I wear?"
Kitty paused suddenly, as if the last all-important question had asolemnizing effect upon both mind and body.
"Why, your white muslin, silk sacque, and new hat, of course," began
Pris with an air of surprise. But Kitty broke in impetuously,—
"I'll never wear that old muslin again; it's full of darns, up to myknees, and all out of fashion. So is my sacque; and as for my hat,though it does well enough here, it would be absurd for Class Day."
"You don't expect an entirely new suit for this occasion,—do you?"asked Pris, anxiously.
"Yes, I do, and I'll tell you how I mean to get it. I've plannedeverything; for, though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself bythinking how I could manage if I did get invited."
"Let us hear." And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation.
"First, my dress," began Kitty, perching herself on the arm of thesofa, and entering into the subject with enthusiasm. "I've got the tendollars grandpa sent me, and with eight of it I'm going to buyLizzie King's organdie muslin. She got it in Paris; but her auntprovidentially—no, unfortunately—died; so she can't wear it, andwants to get rid of it. She is bigger than I am, you know; so there isenough for a little mantle or sacque, for it isn't made up. The skirtis cut off and gored, with a splendid train—"
"My dear, you don't mean you are going to wear one of those absurd,new-fashioned dresses?" exc