I wrote him a note to say I was sorry for my harsh and hasty words, that I forgave him for his, and hoped we could be friendly again, but haven’t heard a word from him since, and knowing how letters can be delayed, I wonder if he’s received it? So when he comes to you, as I know he will, will you please send my boy my warmest love and ask him to forgive me? It don’t feel right to be at odds now, with the house so still and quiet as it is. Grudges are dreadful things, Amy. And life is so short, and sometimes we don’t have the chance to make peace with those we love until it’s too late. Do you remember the time when we were children, and you and I had that quarrel over my book and you near drowned in the lake? It weren’t easy to forgive you for that, for it was a dreadful thing you did to burn my dear little book that I loved so and had worked so hard over, and to tell the truth, I think of it sometimes to this day and mourn for it, for that was the work of years and I can never write it again. But, dear, I did contrive to forgive you, with Marmee’s help, and I thank God daily that I did, for a life spent bearing a grudge to one close to me would be a sorry one.

A happier piece of news, dear, is that I have at last rebelled against going to visit the Hummels! You know how Marmee has always insisted that we take care of them, and of course I don’t mind giving to them because it’s right that we share what we have, little though it be. But Mrs. Hummel has always been such a sourpuss, and that cross little Lotty grows more disagreeable with every week that passes. I’m sorry for their hard lot in life, but it ain’t fair to grudge us what we have, especially if we try to share it, and I don’t understand why they do. We may have more than the Hummels, but Laurie has more than we do, and if we can be happy for him, why can’t they be happy for us? But they can’t, it seems. I took them a pot of soup and some other tid-bits last week, and just for a relish added at the last moment some sunflowers from my plot, for they always make me smile with their long stalks and broad, friendly faces. But Lotty took the food without a word of thanks, cast a glance at my poor beaming sunflowers, then pointed to those two sickly daisies that still struggle to survive beside their wall, and said, “Do you think, Miss March, that we are so low we cannot grow our own flowers?”

I had had enough. I went home and told Marmee that she was free to visit the family as often as she chose, and that I would even help to make up parcels for others to take there for they are souls in need, but that I, for one, had had enough of visiting them, and would do so no more.