At twenty-five , girls begin to talk about being old maids , but secretly resolve that they never will be . At thirty they say nothing about it , but quietly accept the fact , and if sensible , console themselves by remembering that they have twenty more useful , happy years , in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully . Do n't laugh at the spinsters , dear girls , for often very tender , tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns , and many silent sacrifices of youth , health , ambition , love itself , make the faded faces beautiful in God 's sight . Even the sad , sour sisters should be kindly dealt with , because they have missed the sweetest part of life , if for no other reason . And looking at them with compassion , not contempt , girls in their bloom should remember that they too may miss the blossom time . That rosy cheeks do n't last forever , that silver threads will come in the bonnie brown hair , and that , by-and-by , kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now . Gentlemen , which means boys , be courteous to the old maids , no matter how poor and plain and prim , for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to pay deference to the old , protect the feeble , and serve womankind , regardless of rank , age , or color . Just recollect the good aunts who have not only lectured and fussed , but nursed and petted , too often without thanks , the scrapes they have helped you out of , the tips they have given you from their small store , the stitches the patient old fingers have set for you , the steps the willing old feet have taken , and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the little attentions that women love to receive as long as they live . The bright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits , and will like you all the better for them , and if death , almost the only power that can part mother and son , should rob you of yours , you will be sure to find a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from some Aunt Priscilla , who has kept the warmest corner of her lonely old heart for ` the best nevvy in the world ' . Jo must have fallen asleep -LRB- as I dare say my reader has during this little homily -RRB- , for suddenly Laurie 's ghost seemed to stand before her , a substantial , lifelike ghost , leaning over her with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good deal and did n't like to show it . But , like Jenny in the ballad ... `` She could not think it he , '' and lay staring up at him in startled silence , till he stooped and kissed her . Then she knew him , and flew up , crying joyfully ... `` Oh my Teddy ! Oh my Teddy ! '' `` Dear Jo , you are glad to see me , then ? '' `` Glad ! My blessed boy , words ca n't express my gladness . Where 's Amy ? '' `` Your mother has got her down at Meg 's . We stopped there by the way , and there was no getting my wife out of their clutches . '' `` Your what ? ''
cried XXXXX , for Laurie uttered those two words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which betrayed him .
Amy Jo Laurie Meg Priscilla by-and-by homily spinsters womankind years