"Much obliged, but I'm busy;" and Meg whisked out her work-basket, for she had agreed with her mother that it was best, for her at least, not to drive often with the young gentleman.
"We three will be ready in a minute," cried Amy, running away to wash her hands.
"Can I do anything for you, Madam Mother?" asked Laurie, leaning over Mrs. March's chair, with the affectionate look and tone he always gave her.
"No, thank you, except call at the office, if you'll be so kind, dear. It's our day for a letter, and the penny postman hasn't been. Father is as regular as the sun, but there's some delay on the way, perhaps."
A sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after Hannah came in with a letter.
"It's one of them horrid telegraph things, mum," she said, handing it as if she was afraid it would explode, and do some damage.
At the word "telegraph," Mrs. March snatched it, read the two lines it contained, and dropped back into her chair as white as if the little paper had sent a bullet to her heart. Laurie dashed down stairs for water, while Meg and Hannah supported her, and Jo read aloud, in a frightened voice,—
"Mrs. March:
- "Your husband is very ill. Come at once.
"Blank Hospital, Washington."
How still the room was as they listened
breathlessly! how strangely the day darkened outside! and
