Louisa May Alcott

Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag Louisa May Alcott

A boy sat on a door-step in a despondent attitude, with his eyes fixed on a pair of veryshabby shoes, and his elbows resting on his knees, as if to hide the big patches there. But it was not the fact that his toes were nearly out and his clothes dilapidated whichbrought the wrinkles to his forehead and the tears to his eyes, for he was used to thatstate of things, and bore it without complaint. The prospect was a dull one for a lively ladfull of the spring longings which sunny April weather always brings. But it was not thenarrow back-street where noisy children played and two or three dusty trees tried to budwithout sunshine, that made him look so dismal. Nor was it the knowledge that a pile ofvests was nearly ready for him to trudge away with before he could really rest afterdoing many errands to save mother's weary feet.