“There he is,” thought Jo, “Poor boy!  All alone and sick this dismal day.  It’s a shame!  I’ll toss up a snowball and make him look out, and then say a kind word to him.”

Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a face which lost its listless look in a minute, as the big eyes brightened and the mouth began to smile.  Jo nodded and laughed, and flourished her broom as she called out . . .

“How do you do?  Are you sick?”

Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven . . .

“Better, thank you.  I’ve had a bad cold, and been shut up a week.”

“I’m sorry.  What do you amuse yourself with?”

“Nothing.  It’s dull as tombs up here.”

“Don’t you read?”

“Not much.  They won’t let me.”

“Can’t somebody read to you?”

“Grandpa does sometimes, but my books don’t interest him, and I hate to ask Brooke all the time.”

“Have someone come and see you then.”

“There isn’t anyone I’d like to see.  Boys make such a row, and my head is weak.”

“Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse you?  Girls are quiet and like to play nurse.”

“Don’t know any.”

“You know us,” began Jo, then laughed and stopped.

“So I do!  Will you come, please?” cried Laurie.

“I’m not quiet and nice, but I’ll come, if Mother will let me.  I’ll go ask her.  Shut the window, like a good boy, and wait till I come.”

With that, Jo shouldered her broom and marched into the house, wondering what they would all say to her.  Laurie was in a flutter of excitement at the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready, for as Mrs. March said, he was ‘a little gentleman’, and did honor to the coming guest by brushing his curly pate, putting on a fresh color, and trying to tidy up the room, which in spite of half a dozen servants, was anything but neat.  Presently there came a loud ring, than a decided voice, asking for ‘Mr. Laurie’, and a surprised-looking servant came running up to announce a young lady.

“All right, show her up, it’s Miss Jo,” said Laurie, going to the door of his little parlor to meet Jo, who appeared, looking rosy and quite at her ease, with a covered dish in one hand and Beth’s three kittens in the other.

“Here I am, bag and baggage,” she said briskly.  “Mother sent her love, and was glad if I could do anything for you.  Meg wanted me to bring some of her blanc mange, she makes it very nicely, and Beth thought her cats would be comforting.  I knew you’d laugh at them, but I couldn’t refuse, she was so anxious to do something.”

It so happened that Beth’s funny loan was just the thing, for in laughing over the kits, Laurie forgot his bashfulness, and grew sociable at once.

“That looks too pretty to eat,” he said, smiling with pleasure, as Jo uncovered the dish, and showed the blanc mange, surrounded by a garland of green leaves, and the scarlet flowers of Amy’s pet geranium.