my dress,
or count
the cost
of my
luncheon.
I’m too
happy to
care what
anyone
says or
thinks,
and I’m
going to
have my
little
wedding
just as I
like it.
John,
dear,
here’s
your
hammer.”
And away
went Meg
to help
“that man”
in his
highly
improper
employment.
Mr. Brooke
didn’t
even say,
“Thank
you,” but
as he
stooped
for the
unromantic
tool, he
kissed his
little
bride
behind the
folding
door, with
a look
that made
Aunt March
