How is your cold , Meg ? Jo , you look tired to death . Come and kiss me , baby . '' While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet things off , her warm slippers on , and sitting down in the easy chair , drew Amy to her lap , preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day . The girls flew about , trying to make things comfortable , each in her own way . Meg arranged the tea table , Jo brought wood and set chairs , dropping , over-turning , and clattering everything she touched . Beth trotted to and fro between parlor kitchen , quiet and busy , while Amy gave directions to everyone , as she sat with her hands folded . As they gathered about the table , Mrs. March said , with a particularly happy face , `` I 've got a treat for you after supper . '' A quick , bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine . Beth clapped her hands , regardless of the biscuit she held , and Jo tossed up her napkin , crying , `` A letter ! A letter ! Three cheers for Father ! '' `` Yes , a nice long letter . He is well , and thinks he shall get through the cold season better than we feared . He sends all sorts of loving wishes for Christmas , and an especial message to you girls , '' said Mrs. March , patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure there . `` Hurry and get done ! Do n't stop to quirk your little finger and simper over your plate , Amy , '' cried Jo , choking on her tea and dropping her bread , butter side down , on the carpet in her haste to get at the treat . Beth ate no more , but crept away to sit in her shadowy corner and brood over the delight to come , till the others were ready . `` I think it was so splendid in Father to go as chaplain when he was too old to be drafted , and not strong enough for a soldier , '' said Meg warmly . `` Do n't I wish I could go as a drummer , a vivan -- what 's its name ?
Or a nurse , so I could be near him and help him , '' exclaimed XXXXX , with a groan .
Amy Beth Father Jo Meg choking day fro hour simper