“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.”

“Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug."It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress."I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all," added little Amy, with an injured sniff."We've got Father and Mother, and each other," said Beth contentedly from her corner.”

“Miss West is never idle. Below, in the big after-room, she does her own laundering. Nor will she let the steward touch her father's fine linen. In the main cabin she has installed a sewing-machine. All hand-stitching, and embroidering, and fancy work she does in the deck-chair beside me. She avers that she loves the sea and the atmosphere of sea-life, yet, verily, she has brought her home-things and land-things along with her--even to her pretty china for afternoon tea.”

“Promise me, man. If anything ever happens to me, promise me you'll take care ofAngelina. She's something special, Micah. Heart way too big for her own good. I worrybecause she doesn't see everyone for who they are. She's too busy looking for the good.I've tried to get her to adopt some cynicism, but the truth of the matter is, she wouldn't bethe same girl if she did.”

“Here she is at her kitchen table, fingering a jigsaw of thalidomide ginger, thinking about the arthritis in her hands.”

“She stood by the tea-table in a light-coloured muslin gown, which had a good deal of pink about it. She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, noiseless, daintiness.”