lake, and for holiday fun went walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.
"Don't I wish I'd been there!" cried Jo. "Did you go to Paris?"
"We spent last winter there."
"Can you talk French?"
"We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevey."
"Do say some. I can read it, but can't pronounce."
"Quel nom à cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?" said Laurie, good-naturedly.
"How nicely you do it! Let me see—you said, 'Who is the young lady in the pretty slippers,' didn't you?"
"Oui, mademoiselle."
"It's my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you think she is pretty?"
"Yes; she makes me think of the German girls, she looks so fresh and quiet, and dances like a lady."
Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister, and stored it up to repeat to Meg. Both peeped, and criticised, and chatted, till they felt like old acquaintances. Laurie's bashfulness soon wore off, for Jo's gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him at his ease, and Jo was her merry self again, because her dress was forgotten, and nobody lifted their eyebrows at her. She liked the "Laurence boy" better than ever, and took several good looks at him, so that she might describe him to the girls; for they had no brothers, very few male cousins, and boys were almost unknown creatures to them.
"Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes, long
