He started as if he had been shot, threw up his head, and cried out in a fierce tone, “Don’t tell me that, Jo, I can’t bear it now!”

“Tell what?” she asked, wondering at his violence.

“That you love that old man.”

“What old man?” demanded Jo, thinking he must mean his grandfather.

“That devilish Professor you were always writing about.  If you say you love him, I know I shall do something desperate;” and he looked as if he would keep his word, as he clenched his hands with a wrathful spark in his eyes.

Jo wanted to laugh, but restrained herself and said warmly, for she too, was getting excited with all this, “Don’t swear, Teddy!  He isn’t old, nor anything bad, but good and kind, and the best friend I’ve got, next to you.  Pray, don’t fly into a passion.  I want to be kind, but I know I shall get angry if you abuse my Professor.  I haven’t the least idea of loving him or anybody else.”

“But you will after a while, and then what will become of me?”

“You’ll love someone else too, like a sensible boy, and forget all this trouble.”

“I can’t love anyone else, and I’ll never forget you, Jo, Never!  Never!” with a stamp to emphasize his passionate words.

“What shall I do with him?” sighed Jo, finding that emotions were more unmanagable than she expected.  “You haven’t heard what I wanted to tell you.  Sit down and listen, for indeed I want to do right and make you happy,” she said, hoping to soothe him with a little reason, which proved that she knew nothing about love.

Seeing a ray of hope in that last speech, Laurie threw himself down on the grass at her feet, leaned his arm on the lower step of the stile, and looked up at her with an expectant face.  Now that arrangement was not conducive to calm speech or clear thought on Jo’s part, for how could she say hard things to her boy while he watched her with eyes full of love and longing, and lashes still wet with the bitter drop or two her hardness of heart had wrung from him?  She gently turned his head away, saying, as she stroked the wavy hair which had been allowed to grow for her sake—­how touching that was, to be sure!  “I agree with Mother that you and I are not suited to each other, because our quick tempers and strong wills would probably make us very miserable, if we were so foolish as to . . .”  Jo paused a little over the last word, but Laurie uttered it with a rapturous expression.

“Marry—­no we shouldn’t!  If you loved me, Jo, I should be a perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like.”

“No, I can’t.  I’ve tried and failed, and I won’t risk our happiness by such a serious experiment.  We don’t agree and we never shall, so we’ll be good friends all our lives, but we won’t go and do anything rash.”

“Yes, we will if we get the chance,” muttered Laurie rebelliously.

“Now do be reasonable, and take a sensible view of the case,” implored Jo, almost at her wit’s end.