"Christmas won't be Christmas
         without any presents," grumbled Jo,
           lying on the rug.

    "It's so dreadful
          to be poor!"

    sighed Meg,
           looking down
               at her old dress.

    "I don't think it's
         fair for some girls
          to have plenty
               of pretty things,
           and other girls nothing
               at all,"
              added little Amy,
          with an injured sniff.

    "We've got Father and Mother,
           and each other,"
              said Beth contentedly
                   from her corner.

    The four young faces
         on which the firelight shone
               brightened at the cheerful words,
           but darkened again as Jo
              said sadly,
         "We haven't got Father,
               and shall not
                  have him
                       for a long time."

    She didn't say
         "perhaps never,"
            but each silently added it,
         thinking of Father far away,
         where the fighting was.

    Nobody spoke for a minute;
        then Meg
              said in an altered tone,
         "You know
               the reason Mother proposed not
            having any
                  presents this Christmas was
             because it
                is going
                      to be a hard
                          winter for everyone;
            and she thinks
                 we ought not
                      to spend money for pleasure,
               when our men
                are suffering so
                       in the army.

    We can't do much,
           but we
            can make our little sacrifices,
         and ought
              to do it gladly.

    But I
        am afraid I don't."

    And Meg shook her head,
           as she thought
               regretfully of
                all the pretty things
                        she wanted.

    "But I
          don't think the little
         we should spend
            would do any good.

    We've each got a dollar,
           and the army
            wouldn't be much
                  helped by our giving that.

    I agree not
          to expect anything from Mother
              or you,
           but I
              do want
               to buy UNDINE AND
                  SINTRAM for myself.

    I've wanted it so long,"
          said Jo,
           who was a bookworm.

    "I planned
          to spend mine
               in new music,"
              said Beth,
           with a little sigh,
         which no one heard
             but the hearth brush
                   and kettle holder.

    "I shall get
           a nice box
         of Faber's
          drawing pencils.

    I really need them,"
          said Amy decidedly.

    "Mother didn't say anything
           about our money,
         and she
            won't wish us
                  to give up everything.

    Let's each buy
         what we want,
           and have a little fun.

    I'm sure
         we work hard enough
              to earn it," cried Jo,
           examining the heels
               of her shoes
             in a gentlemanly manner.

    "I know I do
          --teaching those tiresome
               children nearly
             all day,
           when I'm longing
              to enjoy myself at home,"
                began Meg,
         in the complaining tone again.

    "You don't have half
           such a hard time as
         I do," said Jo.

    "How would you like
          to be
              shut up
                   for hours
                 with a nervous,
           fussy old lady,
         who keeps you trotting,
           is never satisfied,
         and worries you
             till you
                you're ready
                      to fly
                           out the window or cry?"

    "It's naughty to fret,
           but I do think
             washing dishes and
                  keeping things tidy
                is the worst work
                       in the world.

    It makes me cross,
           and my hands
              get so stiff,
         I can't
              practice well at all."

    And Beth
          looked at her rough hands
               with a sigh
         that any one
            could hear that time.

    "I don't believe
           any of you
          suffer as I do,"
          cried Amy,
               "for you
                  don't have
                      to go
                          to school with impertinent girls,
             who plague you
                 if you
                      don't know your lessons,
               and laugh at your dresses,
             and label your father
                 if he isn't rich,
               and insult you
                 when your nose isn't nice."

    "If you mean libel,
           I'd say so,