I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short rough ends of my head.

It almost seemed as if I'd an arm or leg off.

The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep.

I'll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by, for a crop is so comfortable I don't think I shall ever have a mane again." Mrs.March folded the wavy chestnut lock, and laid it away with a short gray one in her desk.

She only said, "Thank you, deary," but something in her face made the girls change the subject, and talk as cheerfully as they could about Mr.Brooke's kindness, the prospect of a fine day tomorrow, and the happy times they would have when Father came home to be nursed.
No one wanted to go to bed when at ten o'clock Mrs.March put by the last finished job, and said, "Come girls." Beth went to the piano and played the father's favorite hymn.