Laurie, standing in the shadow of the curtain, listened to the
little David, whose simple music always quieted his moody spirit,
and watched the old man, who sat with his gray head on his
hand, thinking tender thoughts of the dead child he had loved so
much. Remembering the conversation of the afternoon, the boy
said to himself, with the resolve to make the sacrifice cheer-
fully, "I'll let my castle go, and stay with the dear old gentle-
man while he needs me, for I am all he has."

Jo was very busy in the garret, for the October days began to
grow chilly, and the afternoons were short. For two or three
hours the sun lay warmly in the high window, showing Jo seated
on the old sofa, writing busily, with her papers spread out upon a
trunk before her, while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the
beams overhead, accompanied by his oldest son, a fine young
fellow, who was evidently very proud of his whiskers. Quite
absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away till the last page was
filled, when she signed her name with a flourish, and threw down
her pen, exclaiming, --

"There, I've done my best! If this won't suit I shall have
to wait till I can do better."

Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript carefully
through, making dashes here and there, and putting in many
exclamation points, which looked like little balloons; then she
tied it up with a smart red ribbon, and sat a minute looking at
it with a sober, wistful expression, which plainly showed How
earnest her work had been. Jo's desk up here was an old tin
kitchen, which hung against the wall. In it she kept her papers
and a few books, safely shut away from Scrabble, who, being
likewise of a literary turn, was fond of making a circulating
library of such books as were left in his way, by eating the

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