A Merry Christmas

           JowasthefirsttowakeinthegraydawnofChristmasmorning.Nostockingshungatthefireplace,andforamomentshefeltasmuchdisappointedasshedidlongago,whenherlittlesockfelldownbecauseitwascrammedsofullofgoodies.Thensherememberedhermother’spromiseand,slippingherhandunderherpillow,drewoutalittlecrimson-coveredbook.Sheknewitverywell,foritwasthatbeautifuloldstoryofthebestlifeeverlived,andJofeltthatitwasatrueguidebookforanypilgrimgoingonalongjourney.ShewokeMegwitha"MerryChristmas,"andbadeherseewhatwasunderherpillow.Agreen-coveredbookappeared,withthesamepictureinside,andafewwordswrittenbytheirmother,whichmadetheironepresentverypreciousintheireyes.PresentlyBethandAmywoketorummageandfindtheirlittlebooksalso,onedove-colored,theotherblue,andallsatlookingatandtalkingaboutthem,whiletheeastgrewrosywiththecomingday.

           Inspiteofhersmallvanities,Margarethadasweetandpiousnature,whichunconsciouslyinfluencedhersisters,especiallyJo,wholovedherverytenderly,andobeyedherbecauseheradvicewassogentlygiven.

           "Girls,"saidMegseriously,lookingfromthetumbledheadbesidehertothetwolittlenight-cappedonesintheroombeyond,"Motherwantsustoreadandloveandmindthesebooks,andwemustbeginatonce.Weusedtobefaithfulaboutit,butsinceFatherwentawayandallthiswartroubleunsettledus,wehaveneglectedmanythings.

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