Rose in Bloom by Louisa May Alcott

amiable desire alone which made her ignore the neat white parcels

which the druggist’s boy deposited on the front seat and kept her

lingering a little longer to enjoy one of the small triumphs which

girls often risk more than a cold in the head to display. The sight

of several snowflakes on the broad shoulders which partially

obstructed her view, as well as the rapidly increasing animation of

Pemberton’s chat, reminded her that it was high time to go.

“I mustn’t keep you it is beginning to storm,” she said, taking up

her muff, much to old Jacob’s satisfaction, for small talk is not

exciting to a hungry man whose nose feels like an icicle.

“Is it? I thought the sun was shining.” And the absorbed gentleman

turned to the outer world with visible reluctance, for it looked very

warm and cozy in the red-lined carriage.

“Wise people say we must carry our sunshine with us,” answered

Rose, taking refuge in commonplaces, for the face at the window

grew pensive suddenly as he answered, with a longing look, “I

wish I could.” Then, smiling gratefully, he added, “Thank you for

giving me a little of yours.?

“You are very welcome.” And Rose offered him her hand while

her eyes mutely asked pardon for withholding her leave to keep it.

He pressed it silently and, shouldering the umbrella which he

forgot to open, turned away with an “up again and take another”

expression, which caused the soft eyes to follow him admiringly.

“I ought not to have kept him a minute longer than I could help, for

it wasn’t all pity; it was my foolish wish to show off and do as I

liked for a minute, to pay for being good about the gown. Oh, me!

How weak and silly I am in spite of all my trying!” And Miss

Campbell fell into a remorseful reverie, which lasted till she got

home.

“Now, young man, what brought you out in this driving storm?”

asked Rose as Jamie came stamping in that same afternoon.

“Mama sent you a new book thought you’d like it. I don’t mind

your old storms!” replied the boy, wrestling his way out of his coat

and presenting a face as round and red and shiny as a well-polished

Baldwin apple.

“Much obliged it is just the day to enjoy it and I was longing for

something nice to read,” said Rose as Jamie sat down upon the

lower stair for a protracted struggle with his rubber boots.

“Here you are, then no yes I do believe I’ve forgotten it, after all!”

cried Jamie, slapping his pockets one after the other with a

dismayed expression of countenance.

“Never mind, I’ll hunt up something else. Let me help you with

those your hands are so cold.” And Rose good-naturedly gave a tug

at the boots while Jamie clutched the banisters, murmuring

somewhat incoherently as his legs flew up and down: “I’ll go back

if you want me to. I’m so sorry! It’s very good of you, I’m sure.

Getting these horrid things on made me forget. Mother would

make me wear ’em, though I told her they’d stick like like

gumdrops,” he added, inspired by recollections of certain dire

disappointments when the above-mentioned sweetmeat melted in

his pockets and refused to come out.

“Now what shall we do?” asked Rose when he was finally

extricated. “Since I’ve nothing to read, I may as well play.?

“I’ll teach you to pitch and toss. You catch very well for a girl, but

you can’t throw worth a cent,” replied Jamie, gamboling down the

hall in his slippers and producing a ball from some of the

mysterious receptacles in which boys have the art of storing

rubbish enough to fill a peck measure.

Of course Rose agreed and cheerfully risked getting her eyes

blackened and her fingers bruised till her young receptor gratefully

observed that “it was no fun playing where you had to look out for

windows and jars and things, so I’d like that jolly book about

Captain Nemo and the Nautilus, please.?

Being gratified, he spread himself upon the couch, crossed his legs

in the air, and without another word dived Twenty Thousand

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