"Alcott, Louisa May - Little Women - March Family 01 - Little Women" - читать интересную книгу автора (Alcott Louisa May)

Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to laugh, but
nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very much.

"Let us do it," said Meg thoughtfully. "It is only another name for
trying to be good, and the story may help us, for though we do want to be
good, it's hard work and we forget, and don't do our best."

"We were in the Slough of Despond tonight, and Mother came and pulled
us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our roll of directions,
like Christian. What shall we do about that?" asked Jo, delighted with the
fancy which lent a little romance to the very dull task of doing her duty.

"Look under your pillows Christmas morning, and you will find your
guidebook," replied Mrs. March.

They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table, then
out came the four little work baskets, and the needles flew as the girls
made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing, but tonight no one
grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing the long seams into four
parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and in
that way got on capitally, especially when they talked about the different
countries as they stitched their way through them.

At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to
bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano, but she had
a way of softly touching the yellow keys and making a pleasant
accompaniment to the simple songs they sang. Meg had a voice like a flute,
and she and her mother led the little choir. Amy chirped like a cricket,
and Jo wandered through the airs at her own sweet will, always coming out
at the wrong place with a croak or a quaver that spoiled the most pensive
tune. They had always done this from the time they could lisp . . .

Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar,

and it had become a household custom,, for the mother was a born singer.
The first sound in the morning was her voice as she went about the house
singing like a lark, and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound,
for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby.

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"Chapter" I.2

A Merry Christmas

Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No
stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much
disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it