you will come too," he answered, with a gallant little bow.

"I can't, for I told Meg I wouldn't, because . . ." There Jo
stopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh.

"Because, what?"

"You won't tell?"

"Never!"

"Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire, and so
I burn my frocks, and I scorched this one, and though it's nicely
mended, it shows, and Meg told me to keep still so no one would
see it. You may laugh, if you want to. It is funny, I know."

But Laurie didn't laugh. He only looked down a minute, and
the expression of his face puzzled Jo when he said very gently,
"Never mind that. I'll tell you how we can manage. There's a long
hall out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us.
Please come."

Jo thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloves
when she saw the nice, pearl-colored ones her partner wore. The
hall was empty, and they had a grand polka, for Laurie danced well,
and taught her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full of
swing and spring. When the music stopped, they sat down on the
stairs to get their breath, and Laurie was in the midst of an account