1 Just her father's way of doing good.
2 stern father bestows her hand, returned the troubadour.
3 Beth went to the piano and played the father's favorite hymn.
4 Then your father came, and I was so happy that I found it easy to be good.
5 I'll make the set of shirts for father, instead of letting you do it, Marmee.
6 To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art, including frames.
7 But he's set, and I've got to do just as he did, unless I break away and please myself, as my father did.
8 It had been tried, but she suffered so much that it was given up, and she did her lessons at home with her father.
9 I am not sure, but I think it was because his son, Laurie's father, married an Italian lady, a musician, which displeased the old man, who is very proud.
10 Relieved of their first anxiety about their father, the girls insensibly relaxed their praiseworthy efforts a little, and began to fall back into old ways.
11 News from their father comforted the girls very much, for though dangerously ill, the presence of the best and tenderest of nurses had already done him good.
12 Mr. Moffat was a fat, jolly old gentleman, who knew her father, and Mrs. Moffat, a fat, jolly old lady, who took as great a fancy to Meg as her daughter had done.
13 He knew my father years ago, and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying he hoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward my children by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day.
14 Mrs. March wanted to talk of her father with the old man who had not forgotten him, Meg longed to walk in the conservatory, Beth sighed for the grand piano, and Amy was eager to see the fine pictures and statues.
15 Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly copied pages, Jo drew the table before her mother, well knowing that money for the long, sad journey must be borrowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father.
16 That evening while Meg was writing to her father to report the traveler's safe arrival, Jo slipped upstairs into Beth's room, and finding her mother in her usual place, stood a minute twisting her fingers in her hair, with a worried gesture and an undecided look.
17 For in that sad yet happy hour, she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control, and led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the Friend who always welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.
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