“I’ve got the key to mine, but I’m not allowed to try it. Hang college!” muttered Laurie, with an impatient sigh.
“Here’s mine!” and Amy waved her pencil.
“I haven’t got any,” said Meg forlornly.
“Yes, you have,” said Laurie at once.
“Where?”
“In your face.”
“Nonsense; that’s of no use.”
“Wait and see if it doesn’t bring you something worth having,” replied the boy, laughing at the thought of a charming little secret which he fancied he knew.
Meg colored behind the brake, but asked no questions, and looked across the river with the same expectant expression which Mr. Brooke had worn when he told the story of the knight.
“If we are all alive ten years hence, let’s meet, and see how many of us have got our wishes, or how much nearer we are then than now,” said Jo, always ready with a plan.
“Bless me! how old I shall be—twenty-seven!” exclaimed Meg who felt grown up already, having just reached seventeen.
“You and I shall be twenty-six, Teddy, Beth twenty-four, and Amy twenty-two. What a venerable party!” said Jo.
“I hope I shall have done something to be proud of by that time; but I’m such a lazy dog, I’m afraid I shall ‘dawdle,’ Jo.”