“I don’t believe you are!” exclaimed the boy, looking at her with much admiration, though he privately thought she would have good reason to be a trifle afraid of the old gentleman, if she met him in some of his moods.

The atmosphere of the whole house being summerlike, Laurie led the way from room to room, letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her fancy.  And so, at last they came to the library, where she clapped her hands and pranced, as she always did when especially delighted.  It was lined with books, and there were pictures and statues, and distracting little cabinets full of coins and curiosities, and Sleepy Hollow chairs, and queer tables, and bronzes, and best of all, a great open fireplace with quaint tiles all round it.

“What richness!” sighed Jo, sinking into the depth of a velour chair and gazing about her with an air of intense satisfaction.  “Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world,” she added impressively.

“A fellow can’t live on books,” said Laurie, shaking his head as he perched on a table opposite.

Before he could more, a bell rang, and Jo flew up, exclaiming with alarm, “Mercy me!  It’s your grandpa!”

“Well, what if it is?  You are not afraid of anything, you know,” returned the boy, looking wicked.

“I think I am a little bit afraid of him, but I don’t know why I should be.  Marmee said I might come, and I don’t think you’re any the worse for it,” said Jo, composing herself, though she kept her eyes on the door.

“I’m a great deal better for it, and ever so much obliged.  I’m only afraid you are very tired of talking to me.  It was so pleasant, I couldn’t bear to stop,” said Laurie gratefully.

“The doctor to see you, sir,” and the maid beckoned as she spoke.

“Would you mind if I left you for a minute?  I suppose I must see him,” said Laurie.

“Don’t mind me.  I’m happy as a cricket here,” answered Jo.

Laurie went away, and his guest amused herself in her own way.  She was standing before a fine portrait of the old gentleman when the door opened again, and without turning, she said decidedly, “I’m sure now that I shouldn’t be afraid of him, for he’s got kind eyes, though his mouth is grim, and he looks as if he had a tremendous will of his own.  He isn’t as handsome as my grandfather, but I like him.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said a gruff voice behind her, and there, to her great dismay, stood old Mr. Laurence.

Poor Jo blushed till she couldn’t blush any redder, and her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast as she thought what she had said.  For a minute a wild desire to run away possessed her, but that was cowardly, and the girls would laugh at her, so she resolved to stay and get out of the scrape as she could.  A second look showed her that the living eyes, under the bushy eyebrows, were kinder even than the painted ones, and there was a sly twinkle in them, which lessened her fear a good deal.  The gruff voice was gruffer than ever, as the old gentleman said abruptly, after the dreadful pause, “So you’re not afraid of me, hey?”