“So did I. Don’t go away, please, unless you’d rather.”
The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps, till Jo said, trying to be polite and easy, “I think I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you before. You live near us, don’t you?”
“Next door.” And he looked up and laughed outright, for Jo’s prim manner was rather funny when he remembered how they had chatted about cricket when he brought the cat home.
That put Jo at her ease and she laughed too, as she said, in her heartiest way, “We did have such a good time over your nice Christmas present.”
“Grandpa sent it.”
“But you put it into his head, didn’t you, now?”
“How is your cat, Miss March?” asked the boy, trying to look sober while his black eyes shone with fun.
“Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence. But I am not Miss March, I’m only Jo,” returned the young lady.
“I’m not Mr. Laurence, I’m only Laurie.”
“Laurie Laurence, what an odd name.”
“My first name is Theodore, but I don’t like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead.”
“I hate my name, too, so sentimental! I wish every one would say Jo instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop calling you Dora?”
“I thrashed ’em.”
“I can’t thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bear it.” And Jo resigned herself with a sigh.
“Don’t you like to dance, Miss Jo?” asked Laurie, looking as if he thought the name suited her.
“I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and everyone is lively. In a place like this I’m sure to upset something, tread on people’s toes, or do something dreadful, so I keep out of mischief and let Meg sail about. Don’t you dance?”
“Sometimes. You see I’ve been abroad a good many years, and haven’t been into company enough yet to know how you do things here.”
“Abroad!” cried Jo. “Oh, tell me about it! I love dearly to hear people describe their travels.”
Laurie didn’t seem to know where to begin, but Jo’s eager questions soon set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vevay, where the boys never wore hats and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.
“Don’t I wish I’d been there!” cried Jo. “Did you go to Paris?”
“We spent last winter there.”
“Can you talk French?”
“We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevay.”
“Do say some! I can read it, but can’t pronounce.”
“Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?”