| PART 1
7. CHAPTER SEVEN
 "That boy is a perfect cyclops, isn't he?" said Amy one day, 
 as Laurie clattered by on horseback, with a flourish of his whip
 as he passed. "How dare you say so, when he's got both his eyes?  And
 very handsome ones they are, too," cried Jo, who resented any
 slighting remarks about her friend. "I didn't day anything about his eyes, and I don't see why
 you need fire up when I admire his riding." "Oh, my goodness!  That little goose means a centaur, and she
 called him a Cyclops," exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter.
 "You needn't be so rude, it's only a `lapse of lingy', as Mr.
 Davis says," retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin.  "I just
 wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse," she
 added, as if to herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear. "Why?" asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laugh
 at Amy's second blunder. "I need it so much.  I'm dreadfully in debt, and it won't be
 my turn to have the rag money for a month." "In debt, Amy?  What do you mean?" And Meg looked sober. "Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes, and I can't pay
 them, you know, till I have money, for Marmee forbade my having
 anything charged at the shop." "Tell me all about it.  Are limes the fashion now?  It used
 to be pricking bits of rubber to make balls."  And Meg tried to
 keep her countenance, Amy looked so grave and important. "Why, you see, the girls are always buying them, and unless
 you want to be thought mean, you must do it too.  It's nothing
 but limes now, for everyone is sucking them in their desks in
 schooltime, and trading them off for pencils, bead rings, paper
 dolls, or something else, at recess.  If one girl likes another, 
 she gives her a lime.  If she's mad with her, she eats one before
 her face, and doesn't offer even a suck.  They treat by turns, 
 and I've had ever so many but haven't returned them, and I ought
 for they are debts of honor, you know." |