CHAPTER THREE.
THE LAURENCE BOY "Jo! Jo! Where are you ?" cried Meg at the foot of the garret stairs.
"Here!" answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window.
This was Jo's favorite refuge, and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by and didn't mind her a particle.

As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole.

Jo shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the news.
"Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation from Mrs.Gardiner for tomorrow night!" cried Meg, waving the precious paper and then proceeding to read it with girlish delight.
"'Mrs.Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephine at a little dance on New Year's Eve.' Marmee is willing we should go, now what shall we wear ?" "What's the use of asking that, when you know we shall wear our poplins, because we haven't got anything else ?" answered Jo with her mouth full.
"If I only had a silk!" sighed Meg.

"Mother says I may when I'm eighteen perhaps, but two years is an everlasting time to wait." "I'm sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough for us.
Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn and the tear in mine.
Whatever shall I do?
The burn shows badly, and I can't take any out." "You must sit still all you can and keep your back out of sight.

The front is all right.