1 Meg sighed, and turned to the frostbitten garden again.
2 in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became.
3 Now, the garden separated the Marches' house from that of Mr. Laurence.
4 'Just the thing, said the girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden.
5 Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his affections picking flowers in her garden.
6 The garden had to be put in order, and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what she liked with.
7 It was a tiny house, with a little garden behind and a lawn about as big as a pocket handkerchief in the front.
8 All walked quietly through the garden, out at the little back gate, and began to climb the hill that lay between the house and river.
9 Tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings, and puppies.
10 And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences' door.
11 "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.
12 The snow was light, and with her broom she soon swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to walk in when the sun came out and the invalid dolls needed air.
13 Beth had old-fashioned fragrant flowers in her garden, sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed for the birds and catnip for the pussies.
14 On the second Saturday after Jo got out of the window, Meg, as she sat sewing at her window, was scandalized by the sight of Laurie chasing Jo all over the garden and finally capturing her in Amy's bower.
15 Meg knew Sallie and was at her ease very soon, but Jo, who didn't care much for girls or girlish gossip, stood about, with her back carefully against the wall, and felt as much out of place as a colt in a flower garden.
16 Out in the garden stood a stately snow maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips on a pink paper streamer.
17 Since the party, she had been more eager than ever, and had planned many ways of making friends with him, but he had not been seen lately, and Jo began to think he had gone away, when she one day spied a brown face at an upper window, looking wistfully down into their garden, where Beth and Amy were snow-balling one another.
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