“He won’t do it unless he is very much worried, and only threatens it sometimes, when he gets tired of studying.  I often think I should like to, especially since my hair was cut, so if you ever miss us, you may advertise for two boys and look among the ships bound for India.”

She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Laurence looked relieved, evidently taking the whole as a joke.

“You hussy, how dare you talk in that way?  Where’s your respect for me, and your proper bringing up?  Bless the boys and girls!  What torments they are, yet we can’t do without them,” he said, pinching her cheeks good-humoredly.  “Go and bring that boy down to his dinner, tell him it’s all right, and advise him not to put on tragedy airs with his grandfather.  I won’t bear it.”

“He won’t come, Sir.  He feels badly because you didn’t believe him when he said he couldn’t tell.  I think the shaking hurt his feelings very much.”

Jo tried to look pathetic but must have failed, for Mr. Laurence began to laugh, and she knew the day was won.

“I’m sorry for that, and ought to thank him for not shaking me, I suppose.  What the dickens does the fellow expect?” and the old gentleman looked a trifle ashamed of his own testiness.

“If I were you, I’d write him an apology, Sir.  He says he won’t come down till he has one, and talks about Washington, and goes on in an absurd way.  A formal apology will make him see how foolish he is, and bring him down quite amiable.  Try it.  He likes fun, and this way is better than talking.  I’ll carry it up, and teach him his duty.”

Mr. Laurence gave her a sharp look, and put on his spectacles, saying slowly, “You’re a sly puss, but I don’t mind being managed by you and Beth.  Here, give me a bit of paper, and let us have done with this nonsense.”

The note was written in the terms which one gentleman would use to another after offering some deep insult.  Jo dropped a kiss on the top of Mr. Laurence’s bald head, and ran up to slip the apology under Laurie’s door, advising him through the keyhole to be submissive, decorous, and a few other agreeable impossibilities.  Finding the door locked again, she left the note to do its work, and was going quietly away, when the young gentleman slid down the banisters, and waited for her at the bottom, saying, with his most virtuous expression of countenance, “What a good fellow you are, Jo!  Did you get blown up?” he added, laughing.

“No, he was pretty mild, on the whole.”

“Ah!  I got it all round.  Even you cast me off over there, and I felt just ready to go to the deuce,” he began apologetically.

“Don’t talk that way, turn over a new leaf and begin again, Teddy, my son.”

“I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks, and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end,” he said dolefully.

“Go and eat your dinner, you’ll feel better after it.  Men always croak when they are hungry,” and Jo whisked out at the front door after that.