Girls, girls, do be quiet one minute! I must get this
off by the early mail, and you drive me distracted with your
worry," cried Mrs. March, crossing out the third spoiled sentence
in her letter.

There was a momentary lull, broken by Hannah, who stalked in,
laid two hot turnovers on the table, and stalked out again.
These turnovers were an institution, and the girls called
them 'muffs', for they had no others and found the hot
pies very comforting to their hands on cold mornings.

Hannah never forgot to make them, no matter how busy or
grumpy she might be, for the walk was long and bleak.
The poor things got no other lunch and were seldom home
before two.

"Cuddle your cats and get over your headache, Bethy.
Goodbye, Marmee. We are a set of rascals this morning, but
we'll come home regular angels. Now then, Meg!" And Jo
tramped away, feeling that the pilgrims were not setting out
as they ought to do.

They always looked back before turning the corner, for
their mother was always at the window to nod and smile, and
wave her hand to them. Somehow it seemed as if they couldn't
have got through the day without that, for whatever their
mood might be, the last glimpse of that motherly face was
sure to affect them like sunshine.