"Mercy, no! I love the dear boy as I always have, and am immensely proud of him; but as for anything more, it's out of the question."
"I'm glad of that, Jo!"
"Why, please?"
"Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends, you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over; but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike, and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love."
"That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy; for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old fellow merely out of gratitude, could I?"
"You are sure of his feeling for you?"
The color deepened in Jo's cheeks, as she answered with the look of mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking of first lovers,—
"I'm afraid it is so, mother; he hasn't said anything, but he looks a great deal. I think I had better go away before it comes to anything."
"I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go."
Jo looked relieved, and, after a pause, said,—smiling,—
"How Mrs. Moffat would wonder at your want of management, if she knew; and how she will rejoice that Annie still may hope."
"Ah, Jo, mothers may differ in their management,
