“The dear child, he just wanted to help me,” the widow kept repeating. “Told me this morning, he did, that he was going to find a fairy as would make things easy for me. Little attention I paid to his talk, bless his poor heart, and so off he goes, and it’s near getting killed he’s been.... Heaven be merciful!”
She thanked the girls tearfully before going with Mrs. Marsh.
“It’s a hard job you must have had bringing him back,” she said, “and many wouldn’t have been brave enough and sensible enough. Fortunate it was that ye went by when ye did, or where’d my little boy be this minute?”
“Poor thing,” said Jo, as they watched the two women hurrying away, Mrs. Marsh giving her arm to the widow. “I shouldn’t wonder, you know, if after all her boy did find a fairy, because mother is a good fairy if ever there was one.”
Mrs. Marsh had insisted that the girls stay behind to enjoy the fun, for there was to be a supper later, and the skating was perfect. So they put on their skates, while the young people of the village crowded round and were introduced, and off they went, each with a boy, while the lights shone and the stars began to come out, and spirits sang to the tinkling of the skates. It was splendid.
Presently they gathered at one of the fires. Amy, her cheeks glowing, announced that she had never before been at such an “auspicatious” occasion. Meg and Beth were busy unpacking a huge lunch basket. Jo came skating up, all alone, sturdy and independent, the fire reflected in her dark eyes.
“I’m going to write a story about that little boy,” she confided, “and call it ‘The Waif of the Woods.’ Or perhaps we can make a play of it, and all of us act it. Think of the snow-laden scene and—oh, Beth, plum-cake!” With a squeal of delight Jo plunged to help in the unpacking, upsetting a pile of tin plates that went rolling down the bank and over the ice in every direction.
“Oh, Jo, see what you’ve done,” cried everybody, while Jo began frantically to chase the bounding plates. Rose and Ruth ran laughing to help her....
“Come along to supper, girls,” said a familiar voice. “You ought to be hungry after your day in the snow.”
Rose and Ruth caught their breath. There in the open doorway stood their mother, the light from the hall lamp streaming round her. The fire was burning low, but a log that had rolled out on the hearth spread a smell of burning wood through the room. As they slipped off the settee, feeling a little dazed at the sudden transition, they heard a tiny chuckle....