I did!” and Meg hid her face again, overcome with shame.
“Here’s a scrape! Do let me bring that wicked boy over to explain and be lectured. I can’t rest till I get hold of him.” And Jo made for the door again.
“Hush! Let me handle this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret, tell me the whole story,” commanded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg, yet keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off.
“I received the first letter from Laurie, who didn’t look as if he knew anything about it,” began Meg, without looking up. “I was worried at first and meant to tell you, then I remembered how you liked Mr. Brooke, so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I kept my little secret for a few days. I’m so silly that I liked to think no one knew, and while I was deciding what to say, I felt like the girls in books, who have such things to do. Forgive me, Mother, I’m paid for my silliness now. I never can look him in the face again.”
“What did you say to him?” asked Mrs. March.
“I only said I was too young to do anything about it yet, that I didn’t wish to have secrets from you, and he must speak to father. I was very grateful for his kindness, and would be his friend, but nothing more, for a long while.”
Mrs. March smiled, as if well pleased, and Jo clapped her hands, exclaiming, with a laugh, “You are almost equal to Caroline Percy, who was a pattern of prudence! Tell on, Meg. What did he say to that?”
“He writes in a different way entirely, telling me that he never sent any love letter at all, and is very sorry that my roguish sister, Jo, should take liberties with our names. It’s very kind and respectful, but think how dreadful for me!”
Meg leaned against her mother, looking the image of despair, and Jo tramped about the room, calling Laurie names. All of a sudden she stopped, caught up the two notes, and after looking at them closely, said decidedly, “I don’t believe Brooke ever saw either of these letters. Teddy wrote both, and keeps yours to crow over me with because I wouldn’t tell him my secret.”
“Don’t have any secrets, Jo. Tell it to Mother and keep out of trouble, as I should have done,” said Meg warningly.
“Bless you, child! Mother told me.”
“That will do, Jo. I’ll comfort Meg while you go and get Laurie. I shall sift the matter to the bottom, and put a stop to such pranks at once.”
Away ran Jo, and Mrs. March gently told Meg Mr. Brooke’s real feelings. “Now, dear, what are your own? Do you love him enough to wait till he can make a home for you, or will you keep yourself quite free for the present?”
“I’ve been so scared and worried, I don’t want to have anything to do with lovers for a long while-perhaps never,” answered Meg petulantly. “If John doesn’t know anything about this nonsense, don’t tell him, and make Jo and Laurie hold their tongues. I won’t be deceived and plagued and made a fool of-it’s a shame!”
Seeing Meg’s usually gentle temper was roused and her pride hurt by this mischievous joke, Mrs. March soothed her by promises of entire silence and great discretion for the future. The instant Laurie’s step was heard in the hall, Meg fled into the study, and Mrs. March received the culprit alone. Jo had not told him why he was wanted, fearing he wouldn’t come, but he knew the minute he saw Mrs. March’s face, and stood twirling his hat with a guilty air which convicted him at once. Jo was dismissed, but chose to march up and down the hall like a sentinel, having some fear that the prisoner might bolt. The sound of voices in the parlor rose and fell for half an hour, but what happened during that interview the girls never knew.
When they were called in, Laurie was standing by their mother with such a penitent face that Jo forgave him on the spot, but did not think it wise to betray the fact. Meg received his humble apology, and was much comforted by the assurance that Brooke knew nothing of the joke.
“I’ll never tell him to my dying day-wild horses shan’t drag it out of me, so you’ll forgive me, Meg, and I’ll do anything to show how out-and-out sorry I am,” he added, looking very much ashamed of himself.
“I’ll try, but it was a very ungentlemanly thing to do, I didn’t think you could be so sly and malicious, Laurie,” replied Meg, trying to hide her maidenly confusion under a gravely reproachful air.
“It was altogether abominable, and I don’t deserve to be spoken to for a month, but you will, though, won’t you?” And Laurie folded his hands together with such and imploring gesture, as he spoke in his irresistibly persuasive tone, that it was impossible to frown upon him in spite of his scandalous behavior.
Meg pardoned him, and Mrs. March’s grave face relaxed, in spite of her efforts to keep sober, when she heard him declare that he would atone for his sins by all sorts of penances, and abase himself like a worm before the injured damsel.
Jo stood aloof, meanwhile, trying to harden her heart against him, and succeeding only in primming up her face into an expression of entire disapprobation. Laurie looked at her once or twice, but as she showed no sign of relenting, he felt injured, and turned his back on her till the others were done with him, when he made her a low bow and walked off without a word.
As soon as he had gone, she wished she had been more forgiving, and when Meg and her mother went upstairs, she felt lonely and longed for Teddy. After resisting for some time, she yielded to the impulse, and armed with a book to return, went over to the big house.
“Is Mr. Laurence in?” asked Jo, of a housemaid, who was coming downstairs.
“Yes, Miss, but I don’t believe he’s seeable just yet.”
“Why not? Is he ill?”
“La, no Miss, but he’s had a scene with Mr. Laurie, who is in one of his tantrums about something, which vexes the old gentleman, so I dursn’t go nigh him.”
“Where is Laurie?”
“Shut up in his room, and he won’t answer, though I’ve been a-tapping. I don’t know what’s to become of the dinner, for it’s ready, and there’s no one to eat it.”
“I’ll go and see what the matter is. I’m not afraid of either of them.”
Up went Jo, and knocked smartly on the door of Laurie’s little study.
“Stop that, or I’ll open the door and make you!” called out the young gentleman in a threatening tone.
Jo immediately knocked again. The door flew open, and in she bounced before Laurie could recover from his surprise. Seeing that he really was out of temper, Jo, who knew how to manage him, assumed a contrite expression, and going artistically down upon her knees, said meekly, “Please forgive me for being so cross. I came to make it up, and can’t go away till I have.”
“It’s all right. Get up, and don’t be a goose, Jo,” was the cavalier reply to her petition.
“Thank you, I will. Could I ask what’s the matter? You don’t look exactly easy in your mind.”
“I’ve been shaken, and I won’t bear it!” growled Laurie indignantly.
“Who did it?” demanded Jo.
“Grandfather. If it had been anyone else I’d have-” And the injured youth finished his sentence by an energetic
