But Jo had made up her mind, and after pondering over a project for some days, she confided it to her mother.

“You asked me the other day what my wishes were.  I’ll tell you one of them, Marmee,” she began, as they sat along together.  “I want to go away somewhere this winter for a change.”

“Why, Jo?” and her mother looked up quickly, as if the words suggested a double meaning.

With her eyes on her work Jo answered soberly, “I want something new.  I feel restless and anxious to be seeing, doing, and learning more than I am.  I brood too much over my own small affairs, and need stirring up, so as I can be spared this winter, I’d like to hop a little way and try my wings.”

“Where will you hop?”

“To New York.  I had a bright idea yesterday, and this is it.  You know Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young person to teach her children and sew.  It’s rather hard to find just the thing, but I think I should suit if I tried.”

“My dear, go out to service in that great boarding house!” and Mrs. March looked surprised, but not displeased.

“It’s not exactly going out to service, for Mrs. Kirke is your friend—­the kindest soul that ever lived—­and would make things pleasant for me, I know.  Her family is separate from the rest, and no one knows me there.  Don’t care if they do.  It’s honest work, and I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Nor I. But your writing?”

“All the better for the change.  I shall see and hear new things, get new ideas, and even if I haven’t much time there, I shall bring home quantities of material for my rubbish.”

“I have no doubt of it, but are these your only reasons for this sudden fancy?”

“No, Mother.”

“May I know the others?”

Jo looked up and Jo looked down, then said slowly, with sudden color in her cheeks.  “It may be vain and wrong to say it, but—­I’m afraid—­Laurie is getting too fond of me.”

“Then you don’t care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?” and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.

“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?”