I saw Mr. Barry, and he gave it to me with
many kind speeches, and promises to bring out the play very soon. I
hope he will.
My farce is in the hands of Mrs. W. H. Smith, who acts at Laura Keene's
theatre in New York. She took it, saying she would bring it out there.
If you see or hear anything about it, let me know. I want something
doing. My mornings are spent in writing. C. takes one a month, and I
am to see Mr. B., who may take some of my wares.
In the afternoons I walk and visit my hundred relations, who are all
kind and friendly, and seem interested in our various successes.
Sunday evenings I go to Parker's parlor, and there meet Phillips,
Garrison, Scherb, Sanborn, and many other pleasant people. All talk,
and I sit in a corner listening, and wishing a certain placid,
gray-haired gentleman was there talking, too. Mrs. Parker calls on me,
reads my stories, and is very good to me. Theodore asks Louisa "how
her worthy parents do," and is otherwise very friendly to the large,
bashful girl who adorns his parlor steadily.
Abby is preparing for a busy and, I hope, a profitable winter. She has
music lessons already, French and drawing in store, and, if her eyes
hold out, will keep her word and become what none of us can be, "an
accomplished Alcott.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119