She opened it with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her; for there stood a tall, bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.
“O Mr. Bhaer, I am so glad to see you!” cried Jo, with a clutch, as if she feared the night would swallow him up before she could get him in.
“And I to see Miss Marsch—but no, you haf a party—” and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them.
“No, we haven’t, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us.”
Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day; but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes.
“If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?”
He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it.
“Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last.”
“Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that;” and he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand.