CHAPTER XII.
CAMP LAURENCE.
BETH was post-mistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it regularly, and dearly liked the daily task of unlocking the little door and distributing the mail. One July day she came in with her hands full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels, like the penny post.
"Here's your posy, mother! Laurie never forgets that," she said, putting the fresh nosegay in the vase that stood in "Marmee's corner," and was kept supplied by the affectionate boy.
"Miss Meg March, one letter, and a glove," continued Beth, delivering the articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands.
"Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one," said Meg, looking at the gray cotton glove.
"Didn't you drop the other in the garden?"
"No, I'm sure I didn't; for there was only one in the office."
"I hate to have odd gloves! Never mind, the other may be found. My letter is only a translation of the
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