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- Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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On
her
left
were
two
matrons
,
with
massive
foreheads
and
bonnets
to
match
,
discussing
Women
’
s
Rights
and
making
tatting
.
Beyond
sat
a
pair
of
humble
lovers
,
artlessly
holding
each
other
by
the
hand
,
a
somber
spinster
eating
peppermints
out
of
a
paper
bag
,
and
an
old
gentleman
taking
his
preparatory
nap
behind
a
yellow
bandanna
.
On
her
right
,
her
only
neighbor
was
a
studious
looking
lad
absorbed
in
a
newspaper
.
It
was
a
pictorial
sheet
,
and
Jo
examined
the
work
of
art
nearest
her
,
idly
wondering
what
fortuitous
concatenation
of
circumstances
needed
the
melodramatic
illustration
of
an
Indian
in
full
war
costume
,
tumbling
over
a
precipice
with
a
wolf
at
his
throat
,
while
two
infuriated
young
gentlemen
,
with
unnaturally
small
feet
and
big
eyes
,
were
stabbing
each
other
close
by
,
and
a
disheveled
female
was
flying
away
in
the
background
with
her
mouth
wide
open
.
Pausing
to
turn
a
page
,
the
lad
saw
her
looking
and
,
with
boyish
good
nature
offered
half
his
paper
,
saying
bluntly
,
"
want
to
read
it
?
That
’
s
a
first
-
rate
story
.
"
Jo
accepted
it
with
a
smile
,
for
she
had
never
outgrown
her
liking
for
lads
,
and
soon
found
herself
involved
in
the
usual
labyrinth
of
love
,
mystery
,
and
murder
,
for
the
story
belonged
to
that
class
of
light
literature
in
which
the
passions
have
a
holiday
,
and
when
the
author
’
s
invention
fails
,
a
grand
catastrophe
clears
the
stage
of
one
half
the
dramatis
personae
,
leaving
the
other
half
to
exult
over
their
downfall
.
"
Prime
,
isn
’
t
it
?
"
asked
the
boy
,
as
her
eye
went
down
the
last
paragraph
of
her
portion
.
"
I
think
you
and
I
could
do
as
well
as
that
if
we
tried
,
"
returned
Jo
,
amused
at
his
admiration
of
the
trash
.
"
I
should
think
I
was
a
pretty
lucky
chap
if
I
could
.
She
makes
a
good
living
out
of
such
stories
,
they
say
.
"
and
he
pointed
to
the
name
of
Mrs
.
S
.
L
.
A
.
N
.
G
.
Northbury
,
under
the
title
of
the
tale
.
"
Do
you
know
her
?
"
asked
Jo
,
with
sudden
interest
.
"
No
,
but
I
read
all
her
pieces
,
and
I
know
a
fellow
who
works
in
the
office
where
this
paper
is
printed
.
"
"
Do
you
say
she
makes
a
good
living
out
of
stories
like
this
?
"
and
Jo
looked
more
respectfully
at
the
agitated
group
and
thickly
sprinkled
exclamation
points
that
adorned
the
page
.
"
Guess
she
does
!
She
knows
just
what
folks
like
,
and
gets
paid
well
for
writing
it
.
"
