“How do you do? Are you sick?”
Laurie opened the window, and croaked out as hoarsely as a raven—
“Better, thank you. I’ve had a bad cold, and been shut up a week.”
“I’m sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?”
“Nothing; it’s as dull as tombs up here.”
“Don’t you read?”
“Not much; they won’t let me.”
“Can’t somebody read to you?”
“Grandpa does, sometimes; but my books don’t interest him, and I hate to ask Brooke all the time.”
“Have someone come and see you, then.”
“There isn’t anyone I’d like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head is weak.”
“Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse you? Girls are quiet, and like to play nurse.”
“Don’t know any.”
“You know us,” began Jo, then laughed, and stopped.
“So I do! Will you come, please?” cried Laurie.
“I’m not quiet and nice; but I’ll come, if mother will let me. I’ll go ask her. Shut that window, like a good boy, and wait till I come.”