β I shouldn't mind living in such a fine house and having nice thingsβ¦ Oh, it doesn't seen like Christmas this year without presents.
β I'm desperate for drawing pencils...
β I wish I didn't have to work for Great-Aunt March... That crabby old miser.
β And you, Beth... What's your Christmas wish?
β I'd like the war to end so father can come home...
β Oh, sweet Beth. We all want that.
β What do we think of the boy?... Is he a captive like Smee in Nicholas Nickleby?... He looks lonely.
β You don't think he'll try to call?
β Maybe. He has a secret! A tragic, European secret.
β He's had no upbringing at all, they say. He was reared in Italy among artists and vagrants.
β Doesn't he have a noble brow? If I were a boy, I'd want to look just like that. Imagine, giving up Italy to come live with that awful old man!
β Jo, please don't say "awful". It's slang.
β I'd be terrified to live with him.