SECRETS
Jo was very busy in the garret, for the October days
began to grow chilly, and the afternoons were short.
For two or three hours the sun lay warmly in the
high window, showing Jo seated on the old sofa, writing
busily, with her papers spread out upon a trunk before
her, while Scrabble, the pet rat, promenaded the beams
overhead, accompanied by his oldest son, a fine young
fellow, who was evidently very proud of his whiskers.
Quite absorbed in her work, Jo scribbled away till
the last page was filled, when she signed her name
with a flourish and threw down her pen, exclaiming
. . .
“There, I’ve done my best! If this
won’t suit I shall have to wait till I can do
better.”
Lying back on the sofa, she read the manuscript carefully
through, making dashes here and there, and putting
in many exclamation points, which looked like little
balloons. Then she tied it up with a smart red
ribbon, and sat a minute looking at it with a sober,
wistful expression, which plainly showed how earnest
her work had been. Jo’s desk up here was
an old tin kitchen which hung against the wall.
In it she kept her papers, and a few books, safely
shut away from Scrabble, who, being likewise of a
literary turn, was fond of making a circulating library
of such books as were left in his way by eating the
leaves. From this tin receptacle Jo produced
another manuscript, and putting both in her pocket,
crept quietly downstairs, leaving her friends to nibble
on her pens and taste her ink.
She put on her hat and jacket as noiselessly as possible,
and going to the back entry window, got out upon the
roof of a low porch, swung herself down to the grassy
bank, and took a roundabout way to the road.
Once there, she composed herself, hailed a passing
omnibus, and rolled away to town, looking very merry
and mysterious.
If anyone had been watching her, he would have thought
her movements decidedly peculiar, for on alighting,
she went off at a great pace till she reached a certain
number in a certain busy street. Having found
the place with some difficulty, she went into the
doorway, looked up the dirty stairs, and after standing
stock still a minute, suddenly dived into the street
and walked away as rapidly as she came. This
maneuver she repeated several times, to the great
amusement of a black-eyed young gentleman lounging
in the window of a building opposite. On returning
for the third time, Jo gave herself a shake, pulled
her hat over her eyes, and walked up the stairs, looking
as if she were going to have all her teeth out.
There was a dentist’s sign, among others, which
adorned the entrance, and after staring a moment at
the pair of artificial jaws which slowly opened and
shut to draw attention to a fine set of teeth, the
young gentleman put on his coat, took his hat, and
went down to post himself in the opposite doorway,
saying with a smile and a shiver, “It’s
like her to come alone, but if she has a bad time
she’ll need someone to help her home.”
