"November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said Margaret, standing at
the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frostbitten garden.
"That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot
on her nose.
"If something very pleasant should happen now, we should think it a delightful month,"
said Beth, who took a hopeful view of everything, even November.
"I dare say, but nothing pleasant ever does happen in this family," said Meg, who was out
of sorts. "We go grubbing along day after day, without a bit of change, and very little fun.
We might as well be in a treadmill."
"My patience, how blue we are!" cried Jo. "I don't much wonder, poor dear, for you see
other girls having splendid times, while you grind, grind, year in and year out. Oh, don't I
wish I could manage things for you as I do for my heroines! You're pretty enough and
good enough already, so I'd have some rich relation leave you a fortune unexpectedly.
Then you'd dash out as an heiress, scorn everyone 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 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 frostbitten 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
working 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."
"Much obliged, but I'm busy." And Meg whisked out her workbasket, for she had agreed
with her mother that it was best, for her at least, not to drive too often with the young
"We three will be ready in a minute," cried Amy, running away to wash her hands.