"That boy is a perfect cyclops, isn't he?" said Amy one day,as Laurie clattered by on horseback, with a flourish of his whipas he passed.

"How dare you say so, when he's got both his eyes? Andvery handsome ones they are, too," cried Jo, who resented anyslighting remarks about her friend.

"I didn't say anything about his eyes, and I don't see whyyou need fire up when I admire his riding."

"Oh, my goodness! That little goose means a centaur, and shecalled him a Cyclops," exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter.

"You needn't be so rude, it's only a 'lapse of lingy', as Mr.Davis says," retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin. "I justwish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse," sheadded, as if to herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear.

"Why?" asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laughat Amy's second blunder.

"I need it so much. I'm dreadfully in debt, and it won't bemy turn to have the rag money for a month."

"In debt, Amy? What do you mean?" And Meg looked sober.

"Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes, and I can't paythem, you know, till I have money, for Marmee forbade my havinganything charged at the shop."

"Tell me all about it. Are limes the fashion now? It usedto be pricking bits of rubber to make balls." And Meg tried tokeep her countenance, Amy looked so grave and important.

"Why, you see, the girls are always buying them, and unlessyou want to be thought mean, you must do it too. It's nothingbut limes now, for everyone is sucking them in their desks inschooltime, and trading them off for pencils, bead rings, paperdolls, or something else, at recess. If one girl likes another,she gives her a lime. If she's mad with her, she eats one beforeher face, and doesn't offer even a suck. They treat by turns,and I've had ever so many but haven't returned them, and I oughtfor they are debts of honor, you know."

"How much will pay them off and restore your credit?" askedMeg, taking out her purse.

"A quarter would more than do it, and leave a few cents overfor a treat for you. Don't you like limes?"

"Not much. You may have my share. Here's the money. Make itlast as long as you can, for it isn't very plenty, you know."

"Oh, thank you! It must be so nice to have pocket money! I'llhave a grand feast, for I haven't tasted a lime this week. I feltdelicate about taking any, as I couldn't return them, and I'mactually suffering for one."

Next day Amy was rather late at school, but could not resist thetemptation of displaying, with pardonable pride, a moist brown-paperparcel, before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk.During the next few minutes the rumor that Amy March had got twenty-four delicious limes (she ate one on the way) and was going totreat circulated through her 'set', and the attentions of her friendsbecame quite overwhelming. Katy Brown invited her to her next partyon the spot. Mary Kinglsey insisted on lending her her watch tillrecess, and Jenny Snow, a satirical young lady, who had basely twittedAmy upon her limeless state, promptly buried the hatchet and offeredto furnish answers to certain appalling sums. But Amy had notforgotten Miss Snow's cutting remarks about 'some persons whose noseswere not too flat to smell other people's limes, and stuck-up peoplewho were not too proud to ask for them', and she instantly crushed'that Snow girl's' hopes by the withering telegram, "You needn't beso polite all of a sudden, for you won't get any."

A distinguished personage happened to visit the school thatmorning, and Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise, whichhonor to her foe rankled in the soul of Miss Snow, and caused MissMarch to assume the airs of a studious young peacock. But, alas,alas! Pride goes before a fall, and the revengeful Snow turned thetables with disastrous success. No sooner had the guest paid theusual stale compliments and bowed himself out, than Jenny, underpretense of asking an important question, informed Mr. Davis, theteacher, that Amy March had pickled limes in her desk.

Now Mr. Davis had declared limes a contraband article, andsolemnly vowed to publicly ferrule the first person who was foundbreaking the law. This much-enduring man had succeeded in banishingchewing gum after a long and stormy war, had made a bonfire of theconfiscated novels and newspapers, had suppressed a private postoffice, had forbidden distortions of the face, nicknames, andcaricatures, and done all that one man could do to keep half a hundredrebellious girls in order. Boys are trying enough to human patience,goodness knows, but girls are infinitely more so, especially tonervous gentlemen with tyrannical tempers and no more talent forteaching than Dr. Blimber. Mr. Davis knew any quantity of Greek,Latin, algebra, and ologies of all sorts so he was called a fineteacher, and manners, morals, feelings, and examples were notconsidered of any particular importance. It was a most unfortunatemoment for denouncing Amy, and Jenny knew it. Mr. Davis hadevidently taken his coffee too strong that morning, there was aneast wind, which always affected his neuralgia, and his pupils hadnot done him the credit which he felt he deserved. Therefore, touse the expressive, if not elegant, language of a schoolgirl, "Hewas as nervous as a witch and as cross as a bear". The word 'limes'was like fire to powder, his yellow face flushed, and he rapped onhis desk with an energy which made Jenny skip to her seat withunusual rapidity.

"Young ladies, attention, if you please!"

At the stern order the buzz ceased, and fifty pairs of blue,black, gray, and brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awfulcountenance.

"Miss March, come to the desk."

Amy rose to comply with outward composure, but a secret fearoppressed her, for the limes weighed upon her conscience.

"Bring with you the limes you have in your desk," was theunexpected command which arrested her before she got out of her seat.

"Don't take all." whispered her neighbor, a young lady of greatpresence of mind.

Amy hastily shook out half a dozen and laid the rest down beforeMr. Davis, feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relentwhen that delicious perfume met his nose. Unfortunately, Mr. Davisparticularly detested the odor of the fashionable pickle, and disgustadded to his wrath.

"Is that all?"

"Not quite," stammered Amy.

"Bring the rest immediately."

With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed.

"You are sure there are no more?"

"I never lie, sir."

"So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two, andthrow them out of the window."

There was a simultaneous sigh, which created quite a little gust,as the last hope fled, and the treat was ravished from their longinglips. Scarlet with shame and anger, Amy went to and fro six dreadfultimes, and as each doomed couple, looking oh, so plump and juicy, fellfrom her reluctant hands, a shout from the street completed the anguishof the girls, for it told them that their feast was being exulted overby the little Irish children, who were their sworn foes. This - thiswas too much. All flashed indignant or appealing glances at theinexorable Davis, and one passionate lime lover burst into tears.

As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr. Davis gave a portentous"Hem!" and said, in his most impressive manner . . .

"Young ladies, you remember what I said to you a week ago. Iam sorry this has happened, but I never allow my rules to be infringed,and I never break my word. Miss March, hold out your hand."

Amy started, and put both hands behind her, turning on him animploring look which pleaded for her better than the words she couldnot utter. She was rather a favorite with 'old Davis', as, of course,he was called, and it's my private belief that he would have brokenhis word if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had notfound vent in a hiss. That hiss, faint as it was, irritated theirascible gentleman, and sealed the culprit's fate.

"Your hand, Miss March!" was the only answer her mute appealreceived, and too proud to cry or beseech, Amy set her teeth, threwback her head defiantly, and bore without flinching several tinglingblows on her little palm. They were neither many nor heavy, but thatmade no difference to her. For the first time in her life she hadbeen struck, and the disgrace, in her eyes, was as deep as if he hadknocked her down.

"You will now stand on the platform till recess," said Mr. Davis,resolved to do the thing thoroughly, since he had begun.

That was dreadful. It would have been bad enough to go to herseat, and see the pitying faces of her friends, or the satisfiedones of her few enemies, but to face the whole school, with thatshame fresh upon her, seemed impossible, and for a second she feltas if she could only drop down where she stood, and break her heartwith crying. A bitter sense of wrong and the thought of Jenny Snowhelped her to bear it, and, taking the ignominious place, she fixedher eyes on the stove funnel above what now seemed a sea of faces,and stood there, so motionless and white that the girls found ithard to study with that pathetic figure before them.

During the fifteen minutes that followed, the proud and sensitivelittle girl suffered a shame and pain which she never forgot. Toothers it might seem a ludicrous or trivial affair, but to her it wasa hard experience, for during the twelve years of her life she had beengoverned by love alone, and a blow of that sort had never touched herbefore. The smart of her hand and the ache of her heart were forgottenin the sting of the thought, "I shall have to tell at home, and theywill be so disappointed in me!"

The fifteen minutes seemed an hour, but they came to an end atlast, and the word 'Recess!' had never seemed so welcome to her before.

"You can go, Miss March," said Mr. Davis, looking, as he felt,uncomfortable.

He did not soon forget the reproachful glance Amy gave him, asshe went, without a word to anyone, straight into the anteroom,snatched her things, and left the place "forever," as she passionatelydeclared to herself. She was in a sad state when she got home, andwhen the older girls arrived, some time later, an indignation meetingwas held at once. Mrs. March did not say much but looked disturbed,and comforted her afflicted little daughter in her tenderest manner.Meg bathed the insulted hand with glycerine and tears, Beth feltthat even her beloved kittens would fail as a balm for griefs likethis, Jo wrathfully proposed that Mr. Davis be arrested without delay,and Hannah shook her fist at the 'villain' and pounded potatoes fordinner as if she had him under her pestle.

No notice was taken of Amy's flight, except by her mates, butthe sharp-eyed demoiselles discovered that Mr. Davis was quitebenignant in the afternoon, also unusually nervous. Just beforeschool closed, Jo appeared, wearing a grim expression as shestalked up to the desk, and delivered a letter from her mother,then collected Amy's property, and departed, carefully scrapingthe mud from her boots on the door mat, as if she shook the dustof the place off her feet.

"Yes, you can have a vacation from school, but I want you tostudy a little every day with Beth," said Mrs. March that evening."I don't approve of corporal punishment, especially for girls. Idislike Mr. Davis's manner of teaching and don't think the girlsyou associate with are doing you any good, so I shall ask yourfather's advice before I send you anywhere else."

"That's good! I wish all the girls would leave, and spoilhis old school. It's perfectly maddening to think of those lovelylimes," sighed Amy, with the air of a martyr.

"I am not sorry you lost them, for you broke the rules, anddeserved some punishment for disobedience," was the severe reply,which rather disappointed the young lady, who expected nothing butsympathy.

"Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the wholeschool?" cried Amy.

"I should not have chosen that way of mending a fault,"replied her mother, "but I'm not sure that it won't do you moregood than a bolder method. You are getting to be rather conceited, my dear, and it is quite time you set about correcting it. Youhave a good many little gifts and virtues, but there is no need ofparading them, for conceit spoils the finest genius. There is notmuch danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long,even if it is, the consciousness of possessing and using it wellshould satisfy one, and the great charm of all power is modesty."

"So it is!" cried Laurie, who was playing chess in a cornerwith Jo. "I knew a girl once, who had a really remarkable talentfor music, and she didn't know it, never guessed what sweet littlethings she composed when she was alone, and wouldn't have believedit if anyone had told her."

"I wish I'd known that nice girl. Maybe she would have helpedme, I'm so stupid," said Beth, who stood beside him, listeningeagerly.

"You do know her, and she helps you better than anyone elsecould," answered Laurie, looking at her with such mischievousmeaning in his merry black eyes that Beth suddenly turned veryred, and hid her face in the sofa cushion, quite overcome by suchan unexpected discovery.

Jo let Laurie win the game to pay for that praise of her Beth,who could not be prevailed upon to play for them after her compliment.So Laurie did his best, and sang delightfully, being in a particularlylively humor, for to the Marches he seldom showed the moody sideof his character. When he was gone, Amy, who had been pensiveall evening, said suddenly, as if busy over some new idea,"Is Laurie an accomplished boy?"

"Yes, he has had an excellent education, and has much talent.He will make a fine man, if not spoiled by petting," replied her mother.

"And he isn't conceited, is he?" asked Amy.

"Not in the least. That is why he is so charming and we alllike him so much."

"I see. It's nice to have accomplishments and be elegant, butnot to show off or get perked up," said Amy thoughtfully.

"These things are always seen and felt in a person's mannerand conversations, if modestly used, but it is not necessary todisplay them," said Mrs. March.

"Any more than it's proper to wear all your bonnets and gownsand ribbons at once, that folks may know you've got them," added Jo,and the lecture ended in a laugh.