“Beth and I are going over to Kitty Bryant’s to get more flowers for tomorrow,” added Amy, tying a picturesque hat over her picturesque curls, and enjoying the effect as much as anybody.
“Come, Jo, don’t desert a fellow. I’m in such a state of exhaustion I can’t get home without help. Don’t take off your apron, whatever you do; it’s peculiarly becoming,” said Laurie, as Jo bestowed his especial aversion in her capacious pocket, and offered him her arm to support his feeble steps.
“Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow,” began Jo, as they strolled away together. “You must promise to behave well, and not cut up any pranks, and spoil our plans.”
“Not a prank.”
“And don’t say funny things when we ought to be sober.”
“I never do; you are the one for that.”
“And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony; I shall certainly laugh if you do.”
“You won’t see me; you’ll be crying so hard that the thick fog round you will obscure the prospect.”
“I never cry unless for some great affliction.”
“Such as fellows going to college, hey?” cut in Laurie, with a suggestive laugh.
“Don’t be a peacock. I only moaned a trifle to keep the girls company.”
“Exactly. I say, Jo, how is grandpa this week; pretty amiable?”
“Very; why, have you got into a scrape, and want to know how he’ll take it?” asked Jo rather sharply.