The Portuguese walked the plank
Swinging to and fro in his hammock
It was rather a pretty little picture
Jo laid herself on the sofa and affected to read
November is the most disagreeable month in the year
One of them horrid telegraph things
She came suddenly upon Mr. Brooke
Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet
It didn't stir, and I knew it was dead
Gently stroking her head as her mother used to do
Polish up the spoons and the fat silver teapot
On his back, with all his legs in the air
Mrs. March would not leave Beth's side
Jo and her mother were reading the note
"Hold your tongue!" cried Jo, covering her ears
He stood at the foot, like a lion in the path
Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day
Popping in her head now and then
He sat in the big chair by Beth's sofa
Her foot held fast in a panful of plaster