JO— We are a set of rascals this morning, but we’ll come home
regular angels. Now then, Meg! If Marmee shook her fist instead of kissing her
hand to us, it would serve us right, for more ungrateful wretches than we are
were never seen. You’re a blighted being, and decidedly cross today because you
can’t sit in the lap of luxury all the time. Poor dear, just wait till I make
my fortune, and you shall revel in carriages and ice cream and high-heeled
slippers, and posies, and red-headed boys to dance with. Ridiculous? Lucky for
you I am ridiculous, for if I put on crushed airs and tried to be dismal, as
you do, we should be in a nice state. Thank goodness, I can always find
something funny to keep me up. Don’t croak any more, but come home jolly.
There’s a dear.
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