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 go and make her hurt his poor little feelings. A call at Meg's, and a refreshing sniff and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn, still further fortified her for the tête-a-tête, 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 jews-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 far-away 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