Kitty s Class Day and Other Stories

Being forbidden to write anything at present I have collected various waifs and strays to appease the young people who clamor for more, forgetting that mortal brains need rest.As many girls have asked to see what sort of tales Jo March wrote at the beginning of her career, I have added “The Baron’s Gloves,” as a sample of the romantic rubbish which paid so well once upon a time. If it shows them what not to write it will not have been rescued from oblivion in vain.L. M. ALCOTT“A stitch in time saves nine.”“O Pris, Pris, I’m really going! Here’s the invitation—rough paper—Chapel—spreads—Lyceum Hall—everything splendid; and Jack to take care of me!”As Kitty burst into the room and performed a rapturous pas seul, waving the cards over her head, sister Priscilla looked up from her work with a smile of satisfaction on her quiet face.“Who invites you, dear?”“Why, Jack, of course,—dear old cousin Jack. Nobody else ever thinks of me, or cares whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. Isn’t he kind? Mayn’t I go? and, O Pris, what shall I wear?”Kitty paused suddenly, as if the last all-important question had a solemnizing effect upon both mind and body.“Why, your white muslin, silk sacque, and new hat, of course,” beganPris with an air of surprise. But Kitty broke in impetuously,—“I’ll never wear that old muslin again; it’s full of darns, up to my knees, and all out of fashion. So is my sacque; and as for my hat, though it does well enough here, it would be absurd for Class Day.”“You don’t expect an entirely new suit for this occasion,—do you?” asked Pris, anxiously.“Yes, I do, and I’ll tell you how I mean to get it. I’ve planned everything; for, though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by thinking how I could manage if I did get invited.”“Let us hear.” And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation.“First, my dress,” began Kitty, perching herself on the arm of the sofa, and entering into the subject with enthusiasm...