Noonedidforseveralmonths，buttheword`fete’alwaysproducedageneralsmile，andLaurie’sbirthdaygifttoAmywasatinycorallobsterintheshapeofacharmforherwatchguard。
Chapter27CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
FortunesuddenlysmileduponJo，anddroppedagoodluckpennyinherpath。Notagoldenpenny，exactly，butIdoubtifhalfamillionwouldhavegivenmorerealhappinessthendidthelittlesumthatcametoherinthiswise。
Everyfewweeksshewouldshutherselfupinherroom，putonherscribblingsuit，and`fallintoavortex’，assheexpressedit，writingawayathernovelwithallherheartandsoul，fortillthatwasfinishedshecouldfindnopeace。Her`scribblingsuit’
consistedofablackwoolenpinaforeonwhichshecouldwipeherpenatwill，andacapofthesamematerial，adornedwithacheerfulredbow，intowhichshebundledherhairwhenthedeckswereclearedforaction。Thiscapwasabeacontotheinquiringeyesofherfamily，whoduringtheseperiodskepttheirdistance，merelypoppingintheirheadssemi-occasionallytoask，withinterest，“Doesgeniusburn，Jo？“Theydidnotalwaysventureeventoaskthisquestion，buttookanobservationofthecap，andjudgedaccordingly。Ifthisexpressivearticleofdresswasdrawnlowupontheforehead，itwasasignthathardworkwasgoingon，inexcitingmomentsitwaspushedrakishlyaskew，andwhendespairseizedtheauthoritwaspluckedwhollyoff，andcastuponthefloor，andcastuponthefloor。Atsuchtimestheintrudersilentlywithdrew，andnotuntiltheredbowwasseengailyerectuponthegiftedbrow，didanyonedareaddressJo。