“Grandfather and Napoleon.”

“Which lady here do you think prettiest?” said Sallie.

“Margaret.”

“Which do you like best?” from Fred.

“Jo, of course.”

“What silly questions you ask!” And Jo gave a disdainful shrug as the rest laughed at Laurie’s matter-of-fact tone.

“Try again.  Truth isn’t a bad game,” said Fred.

“It’s a very good one for you,” retorted Jo in a low voice.  Her turn came next.

“What is your greatest fault?” asked Fred, by way of testing in her the virtue he lacked himself.

“A quick temper.”

“What do you most wish for?” said Laurie.

“A pair of boot lacings,” returned Jo, guessing and defeating his purpose.

“Not a true answer.  You must say what you really do want most.”

“Genius.  Don’t you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?” And she slyly smiled in his disappointed face.

“What virtues do you most admire in a man?” asked Sallie.

“Courage and honesty.”

“Now my turn,” said Fred, as his hand came last.

“Let’s give it to him,” whispered Laurie to Jo, who nodded and asked at once . . .

“Didn’t you cheat at croquet?”

“Well, yes, a little bit.”

“Good!  Didn’t you take your story out of The Sea Lion?” said Laurie.

“Rather.”

“Don’t you think the English nation perfect in every respect?” asked Sallie.

“I should be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.”

“He’s a true John Bull.  Now, Miss Sallie, you shall have a chance without waiting to draw.  I’ll harrrow up your feelings first by asking if you don’t think you are something of a flirt,” said Laurie, as Jo nodded to Fred as a sign that peace was declared.

“You impertinent boy!  Of course I’m not,” exclaimed Sallie, with an air that proved the contrary.

“What do you hate most?” asked Fred.

“Spiders and rice pudding.”

“What do you like best?” asked Jo.

“Dancing and French gloves.”

“Well, I think Truth is a very silly play.  Let’s have a sensible game of Authors to refresh our minds,” proposed Jo.

Ned, Frank, and the little girls joined in this, and while it went on, the three elders sat apart, talking.  Miss Kate took out her sketch again, and Margaret watched her, while Mr. Brooke lay on the grass with a book, which he did not read.

“How beautifully you do it!  I wish I could draw,” said Meg, with mingled admiration and regret in her voice.

“Why don’t you learn?  I should think you had taste and talent for it,” replied Miss Kate graciously.

“I haven’t time.”

“Your mamma prefers other accomplishments, I fancy.  So did mine, but I proved to her that I had talent by taking a few lessons privately, and then she was quite willing I should go on.  Can’t you do the same with your governess?”