“No; I drank champagne and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether abominable,” said Meg self-reproachfully.

“There is something more, I think;” and Mrs. March smoothed the soft cheek, which suddenly grew rosy, as Meg answered slowly⁠—

“Yes; it’s very silly, but I want to tell it, because I hate to have people say and think such things about us and Laurie.”

Then she told the various bits of gossip she had heard at the Moffats; and, as she spoke, Jo saw her mother fold her lips tightly, as if ill pleased that such ideas should be put into Meg’s innocent mind.

“Well, if that isn’t the greatest rubbish I ever heard,” cried Jo indignantly. “Why didn’t you pop out and tell them so, on the spot?”