"The Lord keep the dear man! I won't waste no time a cryin', but git your things ready right away, mum," she said, heartily, as she wiped her face on her apron, gave her mistress a warm shake of the hand with her own hard one, and went away, to work like three women in one.
"She's right; there's no time for tears now. Be calm, girls, and let me think."
They tried to be calm, poor things, as their mother sat up, looking pale, but steady, and put away her grief to think and plan for them.
"Where's Laurie?" she asked presently, when she had collected her thoughts, and decided on the first duties to be done.
"Here, ma'am. Oh, let me do something!" cried the boy, hurrying from the next room, whither he had withdrawn, feeling that their first sorrow was too sacred for even his friendly eyes to see.
"Send a telegram saying I will come at once. The next train goes early in the morning. I'll take that."
"What else? The horses are ready; I can go anywhere, do anything," he said, looking ready to fly to the ends of the earth.
"Leave a note at Aunt March's. Jo, give me that pen and paper."
Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly copied pages, Jo drew the table before her mother, well knowing that money for the long, sad journey must be borrowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father.
"Now go, dear; but don't kill yourself driving at a desperate pace; there is no need of that."