Readmiora

“Getting leaves,” meekly answered Jo, sorting the rosy handful she had just swept up. “And hairpins,” added Laurie, throwing half a dozen into Jo’s lap. “They grow on this road, Meg, so do combs and brown straw hats.” “You have been running, Jo. How could you? When will you stop such romping ways?” said Meg reprovingly, as she settled her cuffs and smoothed her hair, with which the wind had taken liberties. “Never till I’m stiff and old and have to use a crutch. Don’t try to make me grow up before my time, Meg. It’…