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on that dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, even while they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets; she read to it, took it out to breathe the air, hidden under her coat; she sang it lullabies, and never went to bed without kissing its dirty face, and whispering tenderly, `I hope you'll have a good night, my poor dear.' ¡¡¡¡Beth had her troubles as well as the others; and not being an angel, but a very human little girl, she often `wept a little weep', as Jo said, because lessons and have a fine piano. She loved music so dearly, tried so hard to learn, and practised away so p
atiently at the jingling old instrument, that it did seem as if someone (not to hint Aunt March) ought to help her. Nobody did, however, and nobody saw Beth wipe the tears off the yellow keys, that wouldn't keep in tune, when she was all alone. She sang like a little lark about her work, never was too tired to play for Marmee and the girls, and day after day said hopefully to herself, `I know I'll get my music some time, if I'm good.' ¡¡¡¡There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.