looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity,—
"Don't I look like a married man, and the head of a family?"
"Not a bit, and you never will. You've grown bigger and bonnier, but you are the same scapegrace as ever."
"Now, really, Jo, you ought to treat me with more respect," began Laurie, who enjoyed it all immensely.
"How can I, when the mere idea of you, married and settled, is so irresistibly funny that I can't keep sober," answered Jo, smiling all over her face, so infectiously, that they had another laugh, and then settled down for a good talk, quite in the pleasant old fashion.
"It's no use your going out in the cold to get Amy, for they are all coming up, presently; I couldn't wait; I wanted to be the one to tell you the grand surprise, and have 'first skim,' as we used to say, when we squabbled about the cream."
"Of course you did, and spoilt your story by beginning at the wrong end. Now, start right, and tell me how it all happened; I'm pining to know."
"Well, I did it to please Amy," began Laurie, with a twinkle, that made Jo exclaim,—
"Fib number one; Amy did it to please you. Go on, and tell the truth, if you can, sir."
"Now she's beginning to marm it, isn't it jolly to hear her," said Laurie to the fire, and the fire glowed and sparkled as if it quite agreed. "It's all the same, you know, she and I being one. We planned to come