again.
“Hush! let me manage this, for it is worse than I thought. Margaret, tell me the whole story,” commanded Mrs. March, sitting down by Meg, yet keeping hold of Jo, lest she should fly off.
“I received the first letter from Laurie, who didn’t look as if he knew anything about it,” began Meg, without looking up. “I was worried at first, and meant to tell you; then I remembered how you liked Mr. Brooke, so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I kept my little secret for a few days. I’m so silly that I liked to think no one knew; and, while I was deciding what to say, I felt like the girls in books, who have such things to do. Forgive me, mother, I’m paid for my silliness now; I never can look him in the face again.”
“What did you say to him?” asked Mrs. March.
“I only said I was too young to do anything about it yet; that I didn’t wish to have secrets from you,