“I wonder if you will ever grow up, Laurie,” said Meg in a matronly tone.
“I’m doing my best, ma’am, but can’t get much higher, I’m afraid, as six feet is about all men can do in these degenerate days,” responded the young gentleman, whose head was about level with the little chandelier.
“I suppose it would be profanation to eat anything in this spick-and-span bower, so as I’m tremendously hungry, I propose an adjournment,” he added presently.
“Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to settle,” said Meg, bustling away.
“Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant’s to get more flowers for tomorrow,” added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesque curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody.
“Come, Jo, don’t desert a fellow. I’m in such a state of exhaustion I can’t get home without help. Don’t take off your apron, whatever you do, it’s peculiarly becoming,” said Laurie, as Jo bestowed his especial aversion in her capacious pocket and offered her arm to support his feeble steps.
“Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow,” began Jo, as they strolled away together. “You must promise to behave well, and not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans.”
“Not a prank.”
“And don’t say funny things when we ought to be sober.”
“I never do. You are the one for that.”
“And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony. I shall certainly laugh if you do.”
“You won’t see me, you’ll be crying so hard that the thick fog round you will obscure the prospect.”
“I never cry unless for some great affliction.”
“Such as fellows going to college, hey?” cut in Laurie, with suggestive laugh.
“Don’t be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls company.”
“Exactly. I say, Jo, how is Grandpa this week? Pretty amiable?”
“Very. Why, have you got into a scrape and want to know how he’ll take it?” asked Jo rather sharply.
“Now, Jo, do you think I’d look your mother in the face and say `All right’, if it wasn’t?” And Laurie stopped short, with an injured air.
“No, I don’t.”
“Then don’t go and be suspicious. I only want some money,” said Laurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone.
“You spend a great deal, Teddy.”
“Bless you, I don’t spend it, it spends itself somehow, and is gone before I know it.”
“You are so generous and kind-hearted that you let people borrow, and can’t say `No’ to anyone. We heard about Henshaw and all you did for him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blame you,” said Jo warmly.
“Oh, he made a mountain out of a molehill. You wouldn’t have me let that fine fellow work himself to death just for want of a little help, when he is worth a dozen of us lazy chaps, would you?”
“Of course not, but I don’t see the use of your having seventeen waistcoats, endless neckties, and a new hat every time you come home. I thought you’d got over the dandy period, but every now and then it breaks out in a new spot. Just now it’s the fashion to be hideous, to make your head look like a scrubbing brush, wear a strait jacket, orange gloves, and clumping square-toed boots. If it was cheap ugliness, I’d say nothing, but it costs as much as the other, and I don’t get any satisfaction out of it.”
Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that the felt hat fell off, and Jo walked on it, which insult only afforded him an opportunity for expatiating on the advantages of a rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up the maltreated hat, and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Don’t lecture any more, there’s a good soul! I have enough all through the week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home. I’ll get myself up regardless of expense tomorrow and be a satisfaction to my friends.”
“I’ll leave you in peace if you’ll only let your hair grow. I’m not aristocratic, but I do object to being seen with a person who looks like a young prize fighter,” observed Jo severely.