Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning.No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment shefelt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when her littlesock fell down because it was crammed so full of goodies. Thenshe remembered her mother's promise and, slipping her hand underher pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knewit very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the bestlife ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guidebook forany pilgrim going on a long journey. She woke Meg with a "MerryChristmas," and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a fewwords written by their mother, which made their one present veryprecious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy woke to rummageand find their little books also, one dove-colored, the otherblue, and all sat looking at and talking about them, while theeast grew rosy with the coming day.

In spite of her small vanities, Margaret had a sweet andpious nature, which unconsciously influenced her sisters,especially Jo, who loved her very tenderly, and obeyed herbecause her advice was so gently given.

"Girls," said Meg seriously, looking from the tumbled headbeside her to the two little night-capped ones in the room beyond,"Mother wants us to read and love and mind these books, and wemust begin at once. We used to be faithful about it, but sinceFather went away and all this war trouble unsettled us, we haveneglected many things. You can do as you please, but I shall keepmy book on the table here and read a little every morning as soonas I wake, for I know it will do me good and help me through the day."

Then she opened her new book and began to read. Jo put herarm round her and, leaning cheek to cheek, read also, with thequiet expression so seldom seen on her restless face.

"How good Meg is! Come, Amy, let's do as they do. I'llhelp you with the hard words, and they'll explain things if wedon't understand," whispered Beth, very much impressed by thepretty books and her sisters, example.

"I'm glad mine is blue," said Amy. and then the rooms werevery still while the pages were softly turned, and the wintersunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faceswith a Christmas greeting.

"Where is Mother?" asked Meg, as she and Jo ran down tothank her for their gifts, half an hour later.

"Goodness only knows. Some poor creeter came a-beggin', andyour ma went straight off to see what was needed. There never wassuch a woman for givin' away vittles and drink, clothes and firin',"replied Hannah, who had lived with the family since Meg was born,and was considered by them all more as a friend than a servant.

"She will be back soon, I think, so fry your cakes, and haveeverything ready," said Meg, looking over the presents which werecollected in a basket and kept under the sofa, ready to be producedat the proper time. "Why, where is Amy's bottle of cologne?"she added, as the little flask did not appear.

"She took it out a minute ago, and went off with it to put aribbon on it, or some such notion," replied Jo, dancing about theroom to take the first stiffness off the new army slippers.

"How nice my handkerchiefs look, don't they? Hannah washedand ironed them for me, and I marked them all myself," said Beth,looking proudly at the somewhat uneven letters which had cost hersuch labor.

"Bless the child! She's gone and put 'Mother' on them insteadof 'M. March'. How funny!" cried Jo, taking one up.

"Isn't that right? I thought it was better to do it so,because Meg's initials are M.M., and I don't want anyone to usethese but Marmee," said Beth, looking troubled.

"It's all right, dear, and a very pretty idea, quite sensibletoo, for no one can ever mistake now. It will please her very much,I know," said Meg, with a frown for Jo and a smile for Beth.

"There's Mother. Hide the basket, quick!" cried Jo, as a doorslammed and steps sounded in the hall.

Amy came in hastily, and looked rather abashed when she sawher sisters all waiting for her.

"Where have you been, and what are you hiding behind you?"asked Meg, surprised to see, by her hood and cloak, that lazy Amyhad been out so early.

"Don't laugh at me, Jo! I didn't mean anyone should know tillthe time came. I only meant to change the little bottle for a bigone, and I gave all my money to get it, and I'm truly trying notto be selfish any more."

As she spoke, Amy showed the handsome flask which replacedthe cheap one, and looked so earnest and humble in her littleeffort to forget herself that Meg hugged her on the spot, and Jopronounced her 'a trump', while Beth ran to the window, and pickedher finest rose to ornament the stately bottle.

"You see I felt ashamed of my present, after reading and talkingabout being good this morning, so I ran round the corner and changedit the minute I was up, and I'm so glad, for mine is the handsomestnow."

Another bang of the street door sent the basket under the sofa,and the girls to the table, eager for breakfast.

"Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for ourbooks. We read some, and mean to every day," they all cried inchorus.

"Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began atonce, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one wordbefore we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor womanwith a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bedto keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing toeat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they weresuffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them yourbreakfast as a Christmas present?"

They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour,and for a minute no one spoke, only a minute, for Jo exclaimedimpetuously, "I'm so glad you came before we began!"

"May I go and help carry the things to the poor little children?"asked Beth eagerly.

"I shall take the cream and the muffings," added Amy, heroicallygiving up the article she most liked.

Meg was already covering the buckwheats, and piling the breadinto one big plate.

"I thought you'd do it," said Mrs. March, smiling as if satisfied."You shall all go and help me, and when we come back we will havebread and milk for breakfast, and make it up at dinnertime."

They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunatelyit was early, and they went through back streets, so few people sawthem, and no one laughed at the queer party.

A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, nofire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a groupof pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying tokeep warm.

How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girlswent in.

"Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!" said the poorwoman, crying for joy.

"Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them tolaughing.

In a few minutes it really did seem as if kind spirits had beenat work there. Hannah, who had carried wood, made a fire, andstopped up the broken panes with old hats and her own cloak. Mrs.March gave the mother tea and gruel, and comforted her with promisesof help, while she dressed the little baby as tenderly as if it hadbeen her own. The girls meantime spread the table, set the childrenround the fire, and fed them like so many hungry birds, laughing,talking, and trying to understand the funny broken English.

"Das ist gut!" "Die Engel-kinder!" cried the poor things asthey ate and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze.The girls had never been called angel children before, andthought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considereda 'Sancho' ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast,though they didn't get any of it. And when they went away,leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the cityfour merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave awaytheir breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milkon Christmas morning.

"That's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and Ilike it," said Meg, as they set out their presents while theirmother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.

Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal oflove done up in the few little bundles, and the tall vase ofred roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, whichstood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table.

"She's coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Threecheers for Marmee!" cried Jo, prancing about while Meg went toconduct Mother to the seat of honor.

Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, andMeg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was bothsurprised and touched, and smiled with her eyes full as sheexamined her presents and read the little notes which accompaniedthem. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slippedinto her pocket, well scented with Amy's cologne, the rose wasfastened in her bosom, and the nice gloves were pronounced a perfectfit.

There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining,in the simple, loving fashion which makes these home festivals sopleasant at the time, so sweet to remember long afterward, andthen all fell to work.

The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time thatthe rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the eveningfestivities. Being still too young to go often to the theater,and not rich enough to afford any great outlay for privateperformances, the girls put their wits to work, and necessity beingthe mother of invention, made whatever they needed. Very cleverwere some of their productions, pasteboard guitars, antique lampsmade of old-fashioned butter boats covered with silver paper,gorgeous robes of old cotton, glittering with tin spangles froma pickle factory, and armor covered with the same useful diamondshaped bits left in sheets when the lids of preserve pots werecut out. The big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels.

No gentleman were admitted, so Jo played male parts to herheart's content and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russetleather boots given her by a friend, who knew a lady who knew anactor. These boots, an old foil, and a slashed doublet once usedby an artist for some picture, were Jo's chief treasures andappeared on all occasions. The smallness of the company made itnecessary for the two principal actors to take several partsapiece, and they certainly deserved some credit for the hard workthey did in learning three or four different parts, whisking inand out of various costumes, and managing the stage besides. Itwas excellent drill for their memories, a harmless amusement, andemployed many hours which otherwise would have been idle, lonely,or spent in less profitable society.

"A gloomy wood," according to the one playbill, was representedby a few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor, and acave in the distance. This cave was made with a clothes horsefor a roof, bureaus for walls, and in it was a small furnace infull blast, with a black pot on it and an old witch bending overit. The stage was dark and the glow of the furnace had a fineeffect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when thewitch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the firstthrill to subside, then Hugo, the villain, stalked in with aclanking sword at his side, a slouching hat, black beard,mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in muchagitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wildstrain, singing of his hatred for Roderigo, his love for Zara,and his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other.The gruff tones of Hugo's voice, with an occasional shout whenhis feelings overcame him, were very impressive, and the audienceapplauded the moment he paused for breath. Bowing with the airof one accustomed to public praise, he stole to the cavern andordered Hagar to come forth with a commanding, "What ho, minion!I need thee!"

Out came Meg, with gray horsehair hanging about her face,a red and black robe, a staff, and cabalistic signs upon hercloak. Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him, and one to destroy Roderigo. Hagar, in a fine dramatic melody, promisedboth, and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring thelove philter.

A soft strain of music sounded, and then at the back of thecave appeared a little figure in cloudy white, with glitteringwings, golden hair, and a garland of roses on its head. Wavinga wand, it sang . . .

And dropping a small, gilded bottle at the witch's feet, thespirit vanished. Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition,not a lovely one, for with a bang an ugly black imp appeared and,having croaked a reply, tossed a dark bottle at Hugo and disappearedwith a mocking laugh. Having warbled his thanks and put the potionsin his boots, Hugo departed, and Hagar informed the audience thatas he had killed a few of her friends in times past, she had cursedhim, and intends to thwart his plans, and be revenged on him. Thenthe curtain fell, and the audience reposed and ate candy whilediscussing the merits of the play.

A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again,but when it became evident what a masterpiece of stage carpenteryhad been got up, no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb.A tower rose to the ceiling, halfway up appeared a window with alamp burning in it, and behind the white curtain appeared Zara ina lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came ingorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut lovelocks, aguitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower,he sang a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied and, after amusical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect ofthe play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder, with five steps to it,threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she creptfrom her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoulder, and wasabout to leap gracefully down when "Alas! Alas for Zara!" sheforgot her train. It caught in the window, the tower tottered,leaned forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy loversin the ruins.

A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildlyfrom the wreck and a golden head emerged, exclaiming, "I told youso! I told you so!" With wonderful presence of mind, Don Pedro,the cruel sire, rushed in, dragged out his daughter, with a hastyaside . . .

"Don't laugh! Act as if it was all right!" and, orderingRoderigo up, banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn.Though decidedly shaken by the fall from the tower upon him,Roderigo defied the old gentleman and refused to stir. Thisdauntless example fired Zara. She also defied her sire, and heordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle. A stoutlittle retainer came in with chains and led them away, looking verymuch frightened and evidently forgetting the speech he ought tohave made.

Act third was the castle hall, and here Hagar appeared, havingcome to free the lovers and finish Hugo. She hears him coming andhides, sees him put the potions into two cups of wine and bid thetimid little servant, "Bear them to the captives in their cells,and tell them I shall come anon." The servant takes Hugo aside totell him something, and Hagar changes the cups for two others whichare harmless. Ferdinando, the 'minion', carries them away, andHagar puts back the cup which holds the poison meant for Roderigo.Hugo, getting thirsty after a long warble, drinks it, loses his wits,and after a good deal of clutching and stamping, falls flat and dies,while Hagar informs him what she has done in a song of exquisitepower and melody.

This was a truly thrilling scene, though some persons mighthave thought that the sudden tumbling down of a quantity of long redhair rather marred the effect of the villain's death. He was calledbefore the curtain, and with great propriety appeared, leading Hagar,whose singing was considered more wonderful than all the rest of theperformance put together.

Act fourth displayed the despairing Roderigo on the point ofstabbing himself because he has been told that Zara has deserted him.Just as the dagger is at his heart, a lovely song is sung under hiswindow, informing him that Zara is true but in danger, and he cansave her if he will. A key is thrown in, which unlocks the door,and in a spasm of rapture he tears off his chains and rushes awayto find and rescue his lady love.

Act fifth opened with a stormy scene between Zara and Don Pedro.He wishes her to go into a convent, but she won't hear of it, andafter a touching appeal, is about to faint when Roderigo dashes inand demands her hand. Don Pedro refuses, because he is not rich.They shout and gesticulate tremendously but cannot agree, andRodrigo is about to bear away the exhausted Zara, when the timidservant enters with a letter and a bag from Hagar, who has mysteriouslydisappeared. The latter informs the party that she bequeathsuntold wealth to the young pair and an awful doom to Don Pedro, ifhe doesn't make them happy. The bag is opened, and several quarts oftin money shower down upon the stage till it is quite glorified withthe glitter. This entirely softens the stern sire. He consentswithout a murmur, all join in a joyful chorus, and the curtain fallsupon the lovers kneeling to receive Don Pedro's blessing in attitudesof the most romantic grace.

Tumultuous applause followed but received an unexpected check,for the cot bed, on which the dress circle was built, suddenly shutup and extinguished the enthusiastic audience. Roderigo and DonPedro flew to the rescue, and all were taken out unhurt, though manywere speechless with laughter. The excitement had hardly subsidedwhen Hannah appeared, with "Mrs. March's compliments, and would theladies walk down to supper."

This was a surprise even to the actors, and when they saw thetable, they looked at one another in rapturous amazement. It waslike Marmee to get up a little treat for them, but anything so fineas this was unheard of since the departed days of plenty. There wasice cream, actually two dishes of it, pink and white, and cake andfruit and distracting french bonbons and, in the middle of thetable, four great bouquets of hot house flowers.

It quite took their breath away, and they stared first at thetable and then at their mother, who looked as if she enjoyed itimmensely.

"Is it fairies?" asked Amy.

"Santa Claus," said Beth.

"Mother did it." And Meg smiled her sweetest, in spite of hergray beard and white eyebrows.

"Aunt March had a good fit and sent the supper," cried Jo, witha sudden inspiration.

"All wrong. Old Mr. Laurence sent it," replied Mrs. March.

"The Laurence boy's grandfather! What in the world put such athing into his head? We don't know him!" exclaimed Meg.

"Hannah told one of his servants about your breakfast party.He is an odd old gentleman, but that pleased him. He knew my fatheryears ago, and he sent me a polite note this afternoon, saying hehoped I would allow him to express his friendly feeling toward mychildren by sending them a few trifles in honor of the day. Icould not refuse, and so you have a little feast at night to makeup for the bread-and-milk breakfast."

"That boy put it into his head, I know he did! He's a capitalfellow, and I wish we could get acquainted. He looks as if he'dlike to know us but he's bashful, and Meg is so prim she won't letme speak to him when we pass," said Jo, as the plates went round,and the ice began to melt out of sight, with ohs and ahs of satisfaction.

"You mean the people who live in the big house next door, don'tyou?" asked one of the girls. "My mother knows old Mr. Laurence,but says he's very proud and doesn't like to mix with his neighbors.He keeps his grandson shut up, when he isn't riding or walking withhis tutor, and makes him study very hard. We invited him to ourparty, but he didn't come. Mother says he's very nice, though henever speaks to us girls."

"Our cat ran away once, and he brought her back, and wetalked over the fence, and were getting on capitally, all aboutcricket, and so on, when he saw Meg coming, and walked off. Imean to know him some day, for he needs fun, I'm sure he does,"said Jo decidedly.

"I like his manners, and he looks like a little gentleman, soI've no objection to your knowing him, if a proper opportunity comes.He brought the flowers himself, and I should have asked him in, ifI had been sure what was going on upstairs. He looked so wistfulas he went away, hearing the frolic and evidently having none ofhis own."

"It's a mercy you didn't, Mother!" laughed Jo, looking ather boots. "But we'll have another play sometime that he cansee. Perhaps he'll help act. Wouldn't that be jolly?"

"I never had such a fine bouquet before! How pretty it is!"And Meg examined her flowers with great interest.

"They are lovely. But Beth's roses are sweeter to me," saidMrs. March, smelling the half-dead posy in her belt.

Beth nestled up to her, and whispered softly, "I wish Icould send my bunch to Father. I'm afraid he isn't having sucha merry Christmas as we are."