happened to suit Aunt March, who was lame and needed
an active person to wait upon her. The childless old lady
had offered to adopt one of the girls when the troubles came,
and was much offended because her offer was declined. Other
friends told the Marches that they had lost all chance of
being remembered in the rich old lady's will, but the
unworldly Marches only said . . .

"We can't give up our girls for a dozen fortunes. Rich
or poor, we will keep together and be happy in one another."

The old lady wouldn't speak to them for a time, but happening
to meet Jo at a friend's, something in her comical face
and blunt manners struck the old lady's fancy, and she
proposed to take her for a companion. This did not suit Jo
at all, but she accepted the place since nothing better
appeared and, to every one's surprise, got on remarkably well
with her irascible relative. There was an occasional tempest,
and once Jo marched home, declaring she couldn't bear
it longer, but Aunt March always cleared up quickly, and
sent for her to come back again with such urgency that she
could not refuse, for in her heart she rather liked the
peppery old lady.