“We thought you had gone,” said Jo hastily, for she knew he was looking at her. Her bonnet wasn’t big enough to hide her face, and she feared he might think the joy it betrayed unmaidenly.
“Did you believe that I should go with no farewell to those who haf been so heavenly kind to me?” he asked so reproachfully that she felt as if she had insulted him by the suggestion, and answered heartily—
“No, I didn’t; I knew you were busy about your own affairs, but we rather missed you—father and mother especially.”
“And you?”
“I’m always glad to see you, sir.”
In her anxiety to keep her voice quite calm, Jo made it rather cool, and the frosty little monosyllable at the end seemed to chill the Professor, for his smile vanished, as he said gravely—
“I thank you, and come one time more before I go.”
“You are going, then?”
“I haf no longer any business here; it is done.”
“Successfully, I hope?” said Jo, for the bitterness of disappointment was in that short reply of his.
“I ought to think so, for I haf a way opened to me by which I can make my bread and gif my Jnglings much help.”
“Tell me, please! I like to know all about the—the boys,” said Jo eagerly.
“That is so kind, I gladly tell you. My friends find for me a place in a college, where I teach as at home, and earn enough to make the way smooth for Franz and Emil. For this I should be grateful, should I not?”