She opened with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her, for there stood a tall bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.

“Oh, Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!” cried Jo, with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.

“And I to see Miss Marsch, but no, you haf a party,” and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them.

“No, we haven’t, only the family.  My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy.  Come in, and make one of us.”

Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day, but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat?  Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.

“If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all.  You haf been ill, my friend?”

He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.

“Not ill, but tired and sorrowful.  We have had trouble since I saw you last.”

“Ah, yes, I know.  My heart was sore for you when I heard that,” and he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.

“Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer,” she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish.

If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received.  Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo’s sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own.  They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts, and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even the more friendly because he was poor.  For poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits.  Mr. Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself at home.  The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity.  The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest’s benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.