HEARTACHE
Whatever his motive might have been, Laurie studied
to some purpose that year, for he graduated with honor,
and gave the Latin oration with the grace of a Phillips
and the eloquence of a Demosthenes, so his friends
said. They were all there, his grandfather—oh,
so proud—Mr. and Mrs. March, John and Meg,
Jo and Beth, and all exulted over him with the sincere
admiration which boys make light of at the time, but
fail to win from the world by any after-triumphs.
“I’ve got to stay for this confounded
supper, but I shall be home early tomorrow.
You’ll come and meet me as usual, girls?”
Laurie said, as he put the sisters into the carriage
after the joys of the day were over. He said
‘girls’, but he meant Jo, for she was
the only one who kept up the old custom. She
had not the heart to refuse her splendid, successful
boy anything, and answered warmly . . .
“I’ll come, Teddy, rain or shine, and
march before you, playing ‘Hail the conquering
hero comes’ on a jew’s-harp.”
Laurie thanked her with a look that made her think
in a sudden panic, “Oh, deary me! I know
he’ll say something, and then what shall I do?”
Evening meditation and morning work somewhat allayed
her fears, and having decided that she wouldn’t
be vain enough to think people were going to propose
when she had given them every reason to know what
her answer would be, she set forth at the appointed
time, hoping Teddy wouldn’t do anything to make
her hurt his poor feelings. A call at Meg’s,
and a refreshing sniff and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn,
still further fortified her for the tete-a-tete, but
when she saw a stalwart figure looming in the distance,
she had a strong desire to turn about and run away.
“Where’s the jew’s-harp, Jo?”
cried Laurie, as soon as he was within speaking distance.
“I forgot it.” And Jo took heart
again, for that salutation could not be called lover-like.
She always used to take his arm on these occasions,
now she did not, and he made no complaint, which was
a bad sign, but talked on rapidly about all sorts
of faraway subjects, till they turned from the road
into the little path that led homeward through the
grove. Then he walked more slowly, suddenly
lost his fine flow of language, and now and then a
dreadful pause occurred. To rescue the conversation
from one of the wells of silence into which it kept
falling, Jo said hastily, “Now you must have
a good long holiday!”
“I intend to.”
Something in his resolute tone made Jo look up quickly
to find him looking down at her with an expression
that assured her the dreaded moment had come, and
made her put out her hand with an imploring, “No,
Teddy. Please don’t!”
“I will, and you must hear me. It’s
no use, Jo, we’ve got to have it out, and the
sooner the better for both of us,” he answered,
getting flushed and excited all at once.
