`Why don't you say you'd have a splendid, wise, good husband, and some angelic little children? You know your castle wouldn't be perfect without,' said blunt Jo, who had no tender fancies yet, and rather scorned romance, except in books.

`You'd have nothing but horses, inkstands, and novels in yours,' answered Meg, petulantly.

`Wouldn't I, though? I'd have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms piled with books, and I'd write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie's music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle - something heroic or wonderful, that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous: that would suit me, so that is my favourite dream.'

`Mine is to stay at home safe with Father and Mother, and help take care of the family,' said Beth, contentedly.

`Don't you wish for anything else?' asked Laurie.

`Since I had my little piano, I am perfectly satisfied. I only wish we may all keep well and be together; nothing else.'

`I have ever so many wishes, but the pet one is to be an artist, and go to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole world,' was Amy's modest desire.

`We're an ambitious set, aren't we? Every one of us, but Beth, wants to be rich and famous, and gorgeous in every respect. I do wonder if any of us will ever get our wishes,' said Laurie, chewing grass, like a meditative calf.

`I've got the key to my castle in the air; but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen,' observed Jo, mysteriously. `I've got the key to mine, but I'm not allowed to try it. Hang college!' muttered Laurie, with an impatient sigh.

`Here's mine!' and Amy waved her pencil.

`I haven't got any,' said Meg, forlornly.

`Yes, you have,' said Laurie at once.

`Where?'

`In your face.'

`Nonsense; that's of no use.'

`Wait and see if it doesn't bring you something worth having,' replied the boy, laughing at the thought of a charming little secret which he fancied he knew.

Meg coloured behind the brake, but asked no questions, and looked across the river with the same expectant expression which Mr. Brooke had worn when he told the story of the knight.

`If we are all alive ten years hence, let's meet, and see how many of us have got our wishes, or how much nearer we are then than now,' said Jo, always ready with a plan.

`Bless me! how old I shall be - twenty-seven!' exclaimed Meg, who felt grown up already, having just reached seventeen.

`You and I will be twenty-six, Teddy, Beth twenty-four, and Amy twenty-two. What a venerable party!' said Jo.


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