Some persons might have considered these pleasing liberties as bribes, but Demi didn’t see it in that light, and continued to patronize the ‘the bear-man’ with pensive affability, while Daisy bestowed her small affections upon him at the third call, and considered his shoulder her throne, his arm her refuge, his gifts treasures surpassing worth.

Gentlemen are sometimes seized with sudden fits of admiration for the young relatives of ladies whom they honor with their regard, but this counterfeit philoprogenitiveness sits uneasily upon them, and does not deceive anybody a particle.  Mr. Bhaer’s devotion was sincere, however likewise effective—­for honesty is the best policy in love as in law.  He was one of the men who are at home with children, and looked particularly well when little faces made a pleasant contrast with his manly one.  His business, whatever it was, detained him from day to day, but evening seldom failed to bring him out to see—­well, he always asked for Mr. March, so I suppose he was the attraction.  The excellent papa labored under the delusion that he was, and reveled in long discussions with the kindred spirit, till a chance remark of his more observing grandson suddenly enlightened him.

Mr. Bhaer came in one evening to pause on the threshold of the study, astonished by the spectacle that met his eye.  Prone upon the floor lay Mr. March, with his respectable legs in the air, and beside him, likewise prone, was Demi, trying to imitate the attitude with his own short, scarlet-stockinged legs, both grovelers so seriously absorbed that they were unconscious of spectators, till Mr. Bhaer laughed his sonorous laugh, and Jo cried out, with a scandalized face . . .

“Father, Father, here’s the Professor!”

Down went the black legs and up came the gray head, as the preceptor said, with undisturbed dignity, “Good evening, Mr. Bhaer.  Excuse me for a moment.  We are just finishing our lesson.  Now, Demi, make the letter and tell its name.”

“I knows him!” and, after a few convulsive efforts, the red legs took the shape of a pair of compasses, and the intelligent pupil triumphantly shouted, “It’s a We, Dranpa, it’s a We!”

“He’s a born Weller,” laughed Jo, as her parent gathered himself up, and her nephew tried to stand on his head, as the only mode of expressing his satisfaction that school was over.

“What have you been at today, bubchen?” asked Mr. Bhaer, picking up the gymnast.

“Me went to see little Mary.”

“And what did you there?”

“I kissed her,” began Demi, with artless frankness.

“Prut!  Thou beginnest early.  What did the little Mary say to that?” asked Mr. Bhaer, continuing to confess the young sinner, who stood upon the knee, exploring the waistcoat pocket.

“Oh, she liked it, and she kissed me, and I liked it.  Don’t little boys like little girls?” asked Demi, with his mouth full, and an air of bland satisfaction.