town, and told him how nice it was here, and he’s come.”
“But, my dear boy, that is rather a sudden way to pay a visit.”
“Oh, it isn’t a visit; he wants to stay if you will let him!” said Nat
innocently.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” began Mrs. Bhaer, rather startled
by the coolness of the proposition.
“Why, I thought you liked to have poor boys come and live with
you, and be kind to ’em as you were to me,” said Nat, looking
surprised and alarmed.
“So I do, but I like to know something about them first. I have to
choose them, because there are so many. I have not room for all. I
wish I had.”
“I told him to come because I thought you’d like it, but if there isn’t
room he can go away again,” said Nat, sorrowfully.
The boy’s confidence in her hospitality touched Mrs. Bhaer, and
she could not find the heart to disappoint his hope, and spoil his
kind little plan, so she said,
“Tell me about this Dan.”
“I don’t know any thing, only he hasn’t got any folks, and he’s poor,
and he was good to me, so I’d like to be good to him if I could.”
“Excellent reasons every one; but really, Nat, the house is full, and
I don’t know where I could put him,” said Mrs. Bhaer, more and
more inclined to prove herself the haven of refuge he seemed to
think her.
“He could have my bed, and I could sleep in the barn. It isn’t cold
now, and I don’t mind, I used to sleep anywhere with father,” said
Nat, eagerly.
Something in his speech and face made Mrs. Jo put her hand on
his shoulder, and say in her kindest tone:
“Bring in your friend, Nat; I think we must find room for him
without giving him your place.”
Nat joyfully ran off, and soon returned followed by a most
unprepossessing boy, who slouched in and stood looking about
him, with a half bold, half sullen look, which made Mrs. Bhaer say
to herself, after one glance,
“A bad specimen, I am afraid.”
“This is Dan,” said Nat, presenting him as if sure of his welcome.
“Nat tells me you would like to come and stay with us,” began
Mrs. Jo, in a friendly tone.
“Yes,” was the gruff reply.
“Have you no friends to take care of you?”
“No.”
“Say, ‘No, ma’am,’ ” whispered Nat.
“Shan’t neither,” muttered Dan.
“How old are you?”
“About fourteen.”
“You look older. What can you do?”
“‘Most anything.”
“If you stay here we shall want you to do as the others do, work
and study as well as play. Are you willing to agree to that?”
“Don’t mind trying.”
“Well, you can stay a few days, and we will see how we get on
together. Take him out, Nat, and amuse him till Mr. Bhaer comes
home, when we will settle about the matter,” said Mrs. Jo, finding
it rather difficult to get on with this cool young person, who fixed
his big black eyes on her with a hard, suspicious expression,
sorrowfully unboyish.
“Come on, Nat,” he said, and slouched out again.
“Thank you, ma’am,” added Nat, as he followed him, feeling
without quite understanding the difference in the welcome given to
him and to his ungracious friend.
“The fellows are having a circus out in the barn; don’t you want to
come and see it?” he asked, as they came down the wide steps on
to the lawn.
“Are they big fellows?” said Dan.
“No; the big ones are gone fishing.”
“Fire away, then,” said Dan.
Nat led him to the great barn and introduced him to his set, who
were disporting themselves among the half-empty lofts. A large
circle was marked out with hay on the wide floor, and in the
middle stood Demi with a long whip, while Tommy, mounted on
the much-enduring Toby, pranced about the circle playing being a
monkey.
“You must pay a pin apiece, or you can’t see the show,” said
Stuffy, who stood by the wheelbarrow in which sat the band,
consisting of a pocket-comb blown upon by Ned, and a toy drum