BEING forbidden to write anything at present I have collected various
waifs and strays to appease the young people who clamor for more,
forgetting that mortal brains need rest.
As many girls have asked to see what sort of tales Jo March wrote at the
beginning of her career, I have added “The Baron’s Gloves,” as a sample
of the romantic rubbish which paid so well once upon a time. If it shows
them what _not_ to write it will not have been rescued from oblivion in
vain.