"What put it into your head? Did any one tell you about
Beth's giving away her things?" asked Laurie soberly, as Amy
laid a bit of red tape, with sealing-wax, a taper, and a stand-
ish before him.

She explained; and then asked anxiously, "What about
Beth?"

"I'm sorry I spoke; but as I did, I'll tell you. She felt so
ill one day that she told Jo she wanted to give her piano to
Meg, her cats to you, and the poor old doll to Jo, who would love
it for her sake. She was sorry she had so little to give, and
left locks of hair to the rest of us, and her best love to grandpa.
She never thought of a will."

Laurie was signing and sealing as he spoke, and did not look
up till a great tear dropped on the paper. Amy's face was
full of trouble; but she only said, "Don't people put sort of
postscrips to their wills, sometimes?"

"Yes; 'codicils,' they call them."

"Put one in mine then -- that I wish all my curls cut off,
and given round to my friends. I forgot it; but I want it done,
though it will spoil my looks."

Laurie added it, smiling at Amy's last and greatest sacrifice.
Then he amused her for an hour, and was much interested in
all her trials. But when he came to go, Amy held him back
to whisper, with trembling lips, "Is there really any danger
about Beth?"

"I 'm afraid there is; but we must hope for the best, so
don't cry, dear;" and Laurie put his arm about her with a
brotherly gesture which was very comforting.

When he had gone, she went to her little chapel, and sitting
in the twilight, prayed for Beth, with streaming tears and an
aching heart, feeling that a million turquoise rings would not
console her for the loss of her gentle little sister.

-210-