“Well, that’s cool,” said Laurie to himself, “to have a picnic and never ask me! They can’t be going in the boat, for they haven’t got the key. Perhaps they forgot it. I’ll take it to them, and see what’s going on.”
Though possessed of half a dozen hats, it took him some time to find one, then there was a hunt for the key, which was at last discovered in his pocket, so that the girls were quite out of sight when leaped the fence and ran after them. Taking the shortest way to the boathouse, he waited for them to appear, but no one came, and he went up the hill to take an observation. A grove of pines covered one part of it, and from the heart of this green spot came a clearer sound than the soft sigh of the pines or the drowsy chirp of the crickets.
“Here’s a landscape!” thought Laurie, peeping through the bushes, and looking wide-awake and good-natured already.
It was a rather pretty little picture, for the sisters sat together in the shady nook, with sun and shadow flickering over them, the aromatic wind lifting their hair and cooling their hot cheeks, and all the little wood people going on with their affairs as if these were no strangers but old friends. Meg sat upon her cushion, sewing daintily with her white hands, and looking as fresh and sweet as a rose in her pink dress among the green. Beth was sorting the cones that lay thick under the hemlock near by, for she made pretty things with them. Amy was sketching a group of ferns, and Jo was knitting as she read aloud. A shadow passed over the boy’s face as he watched them, feeling that he ought to go away because uninvited, yet lingering because home seemed very lonely and this quiet party in the woods most attractive to his restless spirit. He stood so still that a squirrel, busy with it’s harvesting, ran dawn a pine close beside him, saw him suddenly and skipped back, scolding so shrilly that Beth looked up, espied the wistful face behind the birches,and beckoned with a reassuring smile.
“May I come in, please? Or shall I be a bother?” he asked, advancing slowly.
Meg lifted her eyebrows, but Jo scowled at her defiantly and said at once, “Of course you may. We should have asked you before, only we thought you wouldn’t care for such a girl’s game as this.”
“I always like your games, but if Meg doesn’t want me, I’ll go away.”
“I’ve no objection, if you do something. It’s against the rules to be idle here,” replied Meg gravely but graciously.
“Much obliged. I’ll do anything if you’ll let me stop a bit, for it’s as dull as the Desert of Sahara down there. Shall I sew, read, cone, draw, or do all at once? Bring on your bears. I’m ready.” And Laurie sat down with a submissive expression delightful to behold.
“Finish this story while I set my heel,” said Jo, handing him the book.
“Yes’m.” was the meek answer, as he began, doing his best to prove his gratitude for the favor of admission into the `Busy Bee Society’.
The story was not a long one, and when it was finished, he ventured to ask a few questions as a reward of merit.
“Please, ma’am, could I inquire if this highly instructive and charming institution is a new one?”
“Would you tell him?” asked Meg of her sisters.
“He’ll laugh,” said Amy warningly.
“Who cares?” said Jo.
“I guess he’ll like it,” added Beth.
“Of course I shall! I give you my word I won’t laugh. Tell away, Jo, and don’t be afraid.”
“The idea of being afraid of you! Well, you see we used to play Pilgrim’s Progress, and we have been going on with it in earnest, all winter and summer.”
“Yes, I know,” said Laurie, nodding wisely.
“Who told you?” demanded Jo.
“Spirits.”
“No, I did. I wanted to amuse him one night when you were all away, and he was rather dismal. He did like it, so don’t scold, Jo,” said Beth meekly.
“You can’t keep a secret. Never mind, it saves trouble now.”