“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 home with the Carrols, a month or more ago, but they suddenly changed their minds, and decided to pass another winter in Paris.  But Grandpa wanted to come home.  He went to please me, and I couldn’t let him go alone, neither could I leave Amy, and Mrs. Carrol had got English notions about chaperons and such nonsense, and wouldn’t let Amy come with us.  So I just settled the difficulty by saying, ’Let’s be married, and then we can do as we like’.”

“Of course you did.  You always have things to suit you.”

“Not always,” and something in Laurie’s voice made Jo say hastily . . .

“How did you ever get Aunt to agree?”

“It was hard work, but between us, we talked her over, for we had heaps of good reasons on our side.  There wasn’t time to write and ask leave, but you all liked it, had consented to it by-and-by, and it was only ‘taking time by the fetlock’, as my wife says.”

“Aren’t we proud of those two words, and don’t we like to say them?” interrupted Jo, addressing the fire in her turn, and watching with delight the happy light it seemed to kindle in the eyes that had been so tragically gloomy when she saw them last.

“A trifle, perhaps, she’s such a captivating little woman I can’t help being proud of her.  Well, then Uncle and Aunt were there to play propriety.  We were so absorbed in one another we were of no mortal use apart, and that charming arrangement would make everything easy all round, so we did it.”

“When, where, how?” asked Jo, in a fever of feminine interest and curiosity, for she could not realize it a particle.

“Six weeks ago, at the American consul’s, in Paris, a very quiet wedding of course, for even in our happiness we didn’t forget dear little Beth.”

Jo put her hand in his as he said that, and Laurie gently smoothed the little red pillow, which he remembered well.

“Why didn’t you let us know afterward?” asked Jo, in a quieter tone, when they had sat quite still a minute.

“We wanted to surprise you.  We thought we were coming directly home, at first, but the dear old gentleman, as soon as we were married, found he couldn’t be ready under a month, at least, and sent us off to spend our honeymoon wherever we liked.  Amy had once called Valrosa a regular honeymoon home, so we went there, and were as happy as people are but once in their lives.  My faith!  Wasn’t it love among the roses!”

Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad of it, for the fact that he told her these things so freely and so naturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten.  She tried to draw away her hand, but as if he guessed the thought that prompted the half-involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast, and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before . . .