“I don’t care,” and Jo shut the door,feeling that food was an uncongenial topic just then.She stood a minute looking at the party vanishing above,and as Demi’s short plaid legs toiled up the last stair,a sudden sense of loneliness came over her so strongly that she looked about her with dim eyes, as if to find something to lean upon, for even Teddy had deserted her. If she had known what birthday gift was coming every minute nearer and nearer, she would not have said to herself, “I’ll weep a little weep when I go to bed. It won’t do to be dismal now.” Then she drew her hand over her eyes, for one of her boyish habits was never to know where her handkerchief was, and had just managed to call up a smile when there came a knock at the porch door.
She opened with hospitable haste,and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her,for there stood a tall bearded gentleman,beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.
“Oh, Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!” cried Jo, with a clutch,as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.
“And I to see Miss Marsch, but no, you haf a party,” and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them.
“No, we haven’t, only the family.My sister and friends have just come home,and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us. ”
Though a very social man, I think Mr.Bhaer would have gone decorously away,and come again another day, but how could he,when Jo shut the door behind him,and bereft him of his hat?Perhaps her face had something to do with it,for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him,and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man,whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.
“If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop,I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?”
He put the question abruptly, for,as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face,and he saw a change in it.
“Not ill, but tired and sorrowful.We have had trouble since I saw you last.”
“Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that,” and he shook hands again,with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.
“Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer,” she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish.
If the stranger had any doubts about his reception,they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received.Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo’s sake at first,but very soon they liked him for his own.They could not help it,for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts,and these simple people warmed to him at once,feeling even the more friendly because he was poor.For poverty enriches those who live above it,and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr.Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest’s benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.
If Jo had not been otherwise engaged,Laurie’s behavior would have amused her,for a faint twinge, not of jealousy,but something like suspicion,caused that gentleman to stand aloof at first,and observe the newcomer with brotherly circumspection.But it did not last long.He got interested in spite of himself,and before he knew it, was drawn into the circle.For Mr. Bhaer talked well in this genial atmosphere,and did himself justice. He seldom spoke to Laurie,but he looked at him often,and a shadow would pass across his face,as if regretting his own lost youth,as he watched the young man in his prime.Then his eyes would turn to Jo so wistfully that she would have surely answered the mute inquiry if she had seen it. But Jo had her own eyes to take care of, and feeling that they could not be trusted, she prudently kept them on the little sock she was knitting, like a model maiden aunt.
A stealthy glance now and then refreshed her like sips of fresh water after a dusty walk, for the sidelong peeps showed her several propitious omens. Mr. Bhaer’s face had lost the absent-minded expression, and looked all alive with interest in the present moment, actually young and handsome, she thought, forgetting to compare him with Laurie, as she usually did strange men, to their great detriment. Then he seemed quite inspired, though the burial customs of the ancients, to which the conversation had strayed, might not be considered an exhilarating topic. Jo quite glowed with triumph when Teddy got quenched in an argument, and thought to herself, as she watched her father’s absorbed face, “How he would enjoy having such a man as my Professor to talk with every day!” Lastly, Mr. Bhaer was dressed in a new suit of black,which made him look more like a gentleman than ever.His bushy hair had been cut and smoothly brushed,but didn’t stay in order long, for in exciting moments,he rumpled it up in the droll way he used to do,and Jo liked it rampantly erect better than flat,because she thought it gave his fine forehead a Jove-like aspect.Poor Jo, how she did glorify that plain man,as she sat knitting away so quietly,yet letting nothing escape her,not even the fact that Mr.Bhaer actually had gold sleeve-buttons in his immaculate wristbands.
“Dear old fellow!He couldn’t have got himself up with more care if he’d been going a-wooing,” said Jo to herself,and then a sudden thought born of the words made her blush so dreadfully that she had to drop her ball, and go down after it to hide her face.
The maneuver did not succeed as well as she expected,however, for though just in the act of setting fire to a funeral pyre,the Professor dropped his torch,metaphorically speaking,and made a dive after the little blue ball.Of course they bumped their heads smartly together,saw stars, and both came up flushed and laughing,without the ball, to resume their seats,wishing they had not left them.
Nobody knew where the evening went to,for Hannah skillfully abstracted the babies at an early hour,nodding like two rosy poppies, and Mr.Laurence went home to rest.The others sat round the fire, talking away,utterly regardless of the lapse of time, till Meg,whose maternal mind was impressed with a firm conviction that Daisy had tumbled out of bed, and Demi set his nightgown afire studying the structure of matches, made a move to go.
“We must have our sing, in the good old way,for we are all together again once more,” said Jo,feeling that a good shout would be a safe and pleasant vent for the jubilant emotions of her soul.
They were not all there.But no one found the words thoughtless or untrue,for Beth still seemed among them, a peaceful presence,invisible, but dearer than ever,since death could not break the household league that love made dissoluble.The little chair stood in its old place.The tidy basket, with the bit of work she left unfinished when the needle grew ‘so heavy’, was still on its accustomed shelf. The beloved instrument, seldom touched now had not been moved, and above it Beth’s face, serene and smiling, as in the early days, looked down upon them, seeming to say, “Be happy. I am here.”
“Play something, Amy.Let them hear how much you have improved,” said Laurie,with pardonable pride in his promising pupil.