“What pepper-pots you are!” sighed Jo. “How do you mean to settle this affair?”
“Well, he ought to beg pardon, and believe me when I say I can’t tell him what the fuss’s about.”
“Bless you! he won’t do that.”
“I won’t go down till he does.”
“Now, Teddy, be sensible; let it pass, and I’ll explain what I can. You can’t stay here, so what’s the use of being melodramatic?”
“I don’t intend to stay here long, anyway. I’ll slip off and take a journey somewhere, and when grandpa misses me he’ll come round fast enough.”
“I dare say; but you ought not to go and worry him.”
“Don’t preach. I’ll go to Washington and see Brooke; it’s gay there, and I’ll enjoy myself after the troubles.”
“What fun you’d have! I wish I could run off too,” said Jo, forgetting her part of Mentor in lively visions of martial life at the capital.
“Come on, then! Why not? You go and surprise your father, and I’ll stir up old Brooke. It would be a glorious joke; let’s do it, Jo. We’ll leave a letter saying we are all right, and trot off at once. I’ve got money enough; it will do you good, and be no harm, as you go to your father.”
For a moment Jo looked as if she would agree; for, wild as the plan was, it just suited her. She was tired of care and confinement, longed for change,