mained stationary above the unprotected bonnet, attracted her attention; and, looking up, she saw Mr. Bhaer looking down.
"I feel to know the strong-minded lady who goes so bravely under many horse-noses, and so fast through much mud. What do you down here, my friend?"
Mr. Bhaer smiled, as he glanced from the pickle-factory on one side, to the wholesale hide and leather concern on the other; but he only said, politely,—
"You haf no umbrella; may I go also, and take for you the bundles?"
"Yes, thank you."
Jo's cheeks were as red as her ribbon, and she wondered what he thought of her; but she didn't care, for in a minute she found herself walking away, arm-in-arm with her Professor, feeling as if the sun had suddenly burst out with uncommon brilliancy, that the world was all right again, and that one thoroughly happy woman was paddling through the wet that day.
"We thought you had gone," said Jo, hastily, for she knew he was looking at her,—her bonnet wasn't big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.
"Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been so heavenly kind to me?" he asked, so reproachfully, that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered, heartily,—
"No, I didn't; I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you,—father and mother especially."