PART 1
11. CHAPTER ELEVEN
(continued)
"Oh, what is it?" exclaimed Jo, trembling.
"Salt instead of sugar, and the cream is sour," replied Meg
with a tragic gesture.
Jo uttered a groan and fell back in her chair, remembering that
she had given a last hasty powdering to the berries out of one of
the two boxes on the kitchen table, and had neglected to put the
milk in the refrigerator. She turned scarlet and was on the verge
of crying, when she met Laurie's eyes, which would look merry in
spite of his heroic efforts. The comical side of the affair suddenly
struck her, and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. So
did everyone else, even `Croaker' as the girls called the old lady,
and the unfortunate dinner ended gaily, with bread and butter, olives
and fun.
"I haven't strength of mind enough to clear up now, so we will
sober ourselves with a funeral," said Jo, as they rose, and Miss
Crocker made ready to go, being eager to tell the new story at
another friend's dinner table.
They did sober themselves for Beth's sake. Laurie dug a grave
under the ferns in the grove, little Pip was laid in, with many tears
by his tender-hearted mistress, and covered with moss, while a wreath
of violets and chickweed was hung on the stone which bore his epitaph,
composed by Jo while she struggled with the dinner.
Here lies Pip March,
Who died the 7th of June;
Loved and lamented sore,
And not forgotten soon.
At the conclusion of the ceremonies, Beth retired to her room,
overcome with emotion and lobster, but there was no place of repose,
for the beds were not made, and she found her grief much assuaged
by beating up the pillows and putting things in order. Meg helped
Jo clear away the remains of the feast, which took half the afternoon
and left them so tired that they agreed to be contented with tea and
toast for supper.
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