"Here!" answered a husky voice from above, and, running up,Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir ofRedclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofaby the sunny window. This was Jo's favorite refuge, and here sheloved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoythe quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by and didn'tmind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into hishole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the news.

"Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation from Mrs.Gardiner for tomorrow night!" cried Meg, waving the precious paperand then proceeding to read it with girlish delight.

"'Mrs. Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Josephineat a little dance on New Year's Eve.' Marmee is willing we should go,now what shall we wear?"

"What's the use of asking that, when you know we shall wearour poplins, because we haven't got anything else?" answered Jowith her mouth full.

"If I only had a silk!" sighed Meg. "Mother says I may whenI'm eighteen perhaps, but two years is an everlasting time to wait."

"I'm sure our pops look like silk, and they are nice enough forus. Yours is as good as new, but I forgot the burn and the tear inmine. Whatever shall I do? The burn shows badly, and I can't takeany out."

"You must sit still all you can and keep your back out of sight.The front is all right. I shall have a new ribbon for my hair, andMarmee will lend me her little pearl pin, and my new slippers arelovely, and my gloves will do, though they aren't as nice as I'd like."

"Mine are spoiled with lemonade, and I can't get any new ones,so I shall have to go without," said Jo, who never troubled herselfmuch about dress.

"You must have gloves, or I won't go," cried Meg decidedly."Gloves are more important than anything else. You can't dancewithout them, and if you don't I should be so mortified."

"Then I'll stay still. I don't care much for company dancing.It's no fun to go sailing round. I like to fly about and cut capers."

"You can't ask Mother for new ones, they are so expensive, andyou are so careless. She said when you spoiled the others that sheshouldn't get you any more this winter. Can't you make them do?"

"I can hold them crumpled up in my hand, so no one will knowhow stained they are. That's all I can do. No! I'll tell you howwe can manage, each wear one good one and carry a bad one. Don'tyou see?"

"Your hands are bigger than mine, and you will stretch my glovedreadfully," began Meg, whose gloves were a tender point with her.

"Then I'll go without. I don't care what people say!" cried Jo,taking up her book.

"You may have it, you may! Only don't stain it, and do behavenicely. Don't put your hands behind you, or stare, or say'Christopher Columbus!' will you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be as prim as I can and not getinto any scrapes, if I can help it. Now go and answer your note,and let me finish this splendid story."

So Meg went away to 'accept with thanks', look over her dress,and sing blithely as she did up her one real lace frill, while Jofinished her story, her four apples, and had a game of romps withScrabble.

On New Year's Eve the parlor was deserted, for the two youngergirls played dressing maids and the two elder were absorbed in theall-important business of 'getting ready for the party'. Simpleas the toilets were, there was a great deal of running up and down,laughing and talking, and at one time a strong smell of burned hairpervaded the house. Meg wanted a few curls about her face, and Joundertook to pinch the papered locks with a pair of hot tongs.

"Ought they to smoke like that?" asked Beth from her perchon the bed.

"It's the dampness drying," replied Jo.

"What a queer smell! It's like burned feathers," observed Amy,smoothing her own pretty curls with a superior air.

"There, now I'll take off the papers and you'll see a cloudof little ringlets," said Jo, putting down the tongs.

She did take off the papers, but no cloud of ringlets appeared,for the hair came with the papers, and the horrified hairdresserlaid a row of little scorched bundles on the bureau before her victim.

"Oh, oh, oh! What have you done? I'm spoiled! I can't go! Myhair, oh, my hair!" wailed Meg, looking with despair at the unevenfrizzle on her forehead.

"Just my luck! You shouldn't have asked me to do it. I alwaysspoil everything. I'm so sorry, but the tongs were too hot, and soI've made a mess," groaned poor Jo, regarding the little blackpancakes with tears of regret.

"It isn't spoiled. Just frizzle it, and tie your ribbon sothe ends come on your forehead a bit, and it will look like thelast fashion. I've seen many girls do it so," said Amy consolingly.

"Serves me right for trying to be fine. I wish I'd let my hairalone," cried Meg petulantly.

"So do I, it was so smooth and pretty. But it will soon growout again," said Beth, coming to kiss and comfort the shorn sheep.

After various lesser mishaps, Meg was finished at last, andby the united exertions of the entire family Jo's hair was got upand her dress on. They looked very well in their simple suits,Meg's in silvery drab, with a blue velvet snood, lace frills, andthe pearl pin. Jo in maroon, with a stiff, gentlemanly linencollar, and a white chrysanthemum or two for her only ornament.Each put on one nice light glove, and carried one soiled one, andall pronounced the effect "quite easy and fine". Meg's high-heeledslippers were very tight and hurt her, though she would not own it,and Jo's nineteen hairpins all seemed stuck straight into her head,which was not exactly comfortable, but, dear me, let us be elegantor die.

"Have a good time, dearies!" said Mrs. March, as the sisterswent daintily down the walk. "Don't eat much supper, and comeaway at eleven when I send Hannah for you." As the gate clashedbehind them, a voice cried from a window . . .

"Girls, girls! Have you you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs?"

"Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers," cried Jo,adding with a laugh as they went on, "I do believe Marmee would askthat if we were all running away from an earthquake."

"It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for areal lady is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief,"replied Meg, who had a good many little 'aristocratic tastes' ofher own.

"Now don't forget to keep the bad breadth out of sight, Jo.Is my sash right? And does my hair look very bad?" said Meg, asshe turned from the glass in Mrs. Gardiner's dressing room aftera prolonged prink.

"I know I shall forget. If you see me doing anything wrong,just remind me by a wink, will you?" returned Jo, giving hercollar a twitch and her head a hasty brush.

"No, winking isn't ladylike. I'll lift my eyebrows if anything is wrong, and nod if you are all right. Now hold yourshoulder straight, and take short steps, and don't shake hands ifyou are introduced to anyone. It isn't the thing."

"How do you learn all the proper ways? I never can. Isn'tthat music gay?"

Down they went, feeling a trifle timid, for they seldom wentto parties, and informal as this little gathering was, it was anevent to them. Mrs. Gardiner, a stately old lady, greeted themkindly and handed them over to the eldest of her six daughters.Meg knew Sallie and was at her ease very soon, but Jo, who didn'tcare much for girls or girlish gossip, stood about, with her backcarefully against the wall, and felt as much out of place as acolt in a flower garden. Half a dozen jovial lads were talkingabout skates in another part of the room, and she longed to goand join them, for skating was one of the joys of her life. Shetelegraphed her wish to Meg, but the eyebrows went up so alarminglythat she dared not stir. No one came to talk to her, and one byone the group dwindled away till she was left alone. She couldnot roam about and amuse herself, for the burned breadth wouldshow, so she stared at people rather forlornly till the dancingbegan. Meg was asked at once, and the tight slippers trippedabout so briskly that none would have guessed the pain theirwearer suffered smilingly. Jo saw a big red headed youthapproaching her corner, and fearing he meant to engage her, sheslipped into a curtained recess, intending to peep and enjoyherself in peace. Unfortunately, another bashful person hadchosen the same refuge, for, as the curtain fell behind her,she found herself face to face with the 'Laurence boy'.

"Dear me, I didn't know anyone was here!" stammered Jo,preparing to back out as speedily as she had bounced in.

But the boy laughed and said pleasantly, though he lookeda little startled, "Don't mind me, stay if you like."

"Shan't I disturb you?"

"Not a bit. I only came here because I don't know manypeople and felt rather strange at first, you know."

"So did I. Don't go away, please, unless you'd rather."

The boy sat down again and looked at his pumps, till Josaid, trying to be polite and easy, "I think I've had the pleasureof seeing you before. You live near us, don't you?"

"Next door." And he looked up and laughed outright, for Jo'sprim manner was rather funny when he remembered how they had chattedabout cricket when he brought the cat home.

That put Jo at her ease and she laughed too, as she said, inher heartiest way, "We did have such a good time over your niceChristmas present."

"Grandpa sent it."

"But you put it into his head, didn't you, now?"

"How is your cat, Miss March?" asked the boy, trying to looksober while his black eyes shone with fun.

"Nicely, thank you, Mr. Laurence. But I am not Miss March, I'monly Jo," returned the young lady.

"I'm not Mr. Laurence, I'm only Laurie."

"Laurie Laurence, what an odd name."

"My first name is Theodore, but I don't like it, for thefellows called me Dora, so I made them say Laurie instead."

"I hate my name, too, so sentimental! I wish every one wouldsay Jo instead of Josephine. How did you make the boys stop callingyou Dora?"

"I thrashed 'em."

"I can't thrash Aunt March, so I suppose I shall have to bearit." And Jo resigned herself with a sigh.

"Don't you like to dance, Miss Jo?" asked Laurie, lookingas if he thought the name suited her.

"I like it well enough if there is plenty of room, and everyoneis lively. In a place like this I'm sure to upset something,tread on people's toes, or do something dreadful, so I keep outof mischief and let Meg sail about. Don't you dance?"

"Sometimes. You see I've been abroad a good many years, andhaven't been into company enough yet to know how you do things here."

"Abroad!" cried Jo. "Oh, tell me about it! I love dearly tohear people describe their travels."

Laurie didn't seem to know where to begin, but Jo's eagerquestions soon set him going, and he told her how he had been atschool in Vevay, where the boys never wore hats and had a fleet ofboats on the lake, and for holiday fun went on walking trips aboutSwitzerland with their teachers.

"Don't I wish I'd been there!" cried Jo. "Did you go to Paris?"

"We spent last winter there."

"Can you talk French?"

"We were not allowed to speak anything else at Vevay."

"Do say some! I can read it, but can't pronounce."

"Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?"

"How nicely you do it! Let me see . . . you said, 'Who is theyoung lady in the pretty slippers', didn't you?"

"Oui, mademoiselle."

"It's my sister Margaret, and you knew it was! Do you thinkshe is pretty?"

"Yes, she makes me think of the German girls, she looks sofresh and quiet, and dances like a lady."

Jo quite glowed with pleasure at this boyish praise of her sister,and stored it up to repeat to Meg. Both peeped and critisized andchatted till they felt like old acquaintances. Laurie's bashfulnesssoon wore off, for Jo's gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him athis ease, and Jo was her merry self again, because her dress wasforgotten and nobody lifted their eyebrows at her. She liked the'Laurence boy' better than ever and took several good looks at him,so that she might describe him to the girls, for they had nobrothers, very few male cousins, and boys were almost unknowncreatures to them.

"Curly black hair, brown skin, big black eyes, handsome nose,fine teeth, small hands and feet, taller than I am, very polite,for a boy, and altogether jolly. Wonder how old he is?"

It was on the tip of Jo's tongue to ask, but she checkedherself in time and, with unusual tact, tried to find out in around-about way.

"I suppose you are going to college soon? I see you peggingaway at your books, no, I mean studying hard." And Jo blushedat the dreadful 'pegging' which had escaped her.

Laurie smiled but didn't seem shocked, and answered with ashrug. "Not for a year or two. I won't go before seventeen,anyway."

"Aren't you but fifteen?" asked Jo, looking at the tall lad,whom she had imagined seventeen already.

"Sixteen, next month."

"How I wish I was going to college! You don't look as ifyou liked it."

"I hate it! Nothing but grinding or skylarking. And I don'tlike the way fellows do either, in this country."

"What do you like?"

"To live in Italy, and to enjoy myself in my own way."

Jo wanted very much to ask what his own way was, but hisblack brows looked rather threatening as he knit them, so shechanged the subject by saying, as her foot kept time, "That's asplendid polka! Why don't you go and try it?"

"If you will come too," he answered, with a gallant little bow.

"I can't, for I told Meg I wouldn't, because . . ." There Jostopped, and looked undecided whether to tell or to laugh.

"Because, what?"

"You won't tell?"

"Never!"

"Well, I have a bad trick of standing before the fire, and soI burn my frocks, and I scorched this one, and though it's nicelymended, it shows, and Meg told me to keep still so no one wouldsee it. You may laugh, if you want to. It is funny, I know."

But Laurie didn't laugh. He only looked down a minute, andthe expression of his face puzzled Jo when he said very gently,"Never mind that. I'll tell you how we can manage. There's a longhall out there, and we can dance grandly, and no one will see us.Please come."

Jo thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had two neat gloveswhen she saw the nice, pearl-colored ones her partner wore. Thehall was empty, and they had a grand polka, for Laurie danced well,and taught her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full ofswing and spring. When the music stopped, they sat down on thestairs to get their breath, and Laurie was in the midst of an accountof a students' festival at Heidelberg when Meg appeared in search ofher sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her into aside room, where she found her on a sofa, holding her foot, andlooking pale.

"I've sprained my ankle. That stupid high heel turned andgave me a sad wrench. It aches so, I can hardly stand, and I don'tknow how I'm ever going to get home," she said, rocking to and froin pain.

"I knew you'd hurt your feet with those silly shoes. I'msorry. But I don't see what you can do, except get a carriage, orstay here all night," answered Jo, softly rubbing the poor ankle asshe spoke.

"I can't have a carriage without its costing ever so much. Idare say I can't get one at all, for most people come in their own,and it's a long way to the stable, and no one to send."

"I'll go."

"No, indeed! It's past nine, and dark as Egypt. I can't stophere, for the house is full. Sallie has some girls staying with her.I'll rest till Hannah comes, and then do the best I can."

"I'll ask Laurie. He will go," said Jo, looking relieved asthe idea occurred to her.

"Mercy, no! Don't ask or tell anyone. Get me my rubbers, andput these slippers with our things. I can't dance anymore, but assoon as supper is over, watch for Hannah and tell me the minute shecomes."

"They are going out to supper now. I'll stay with you. I'drather."

"No, dear, run along, and bring me some coffee. I'm so tiredI can't stir."

So Meg reclined, with rubbers well hidden, and Jo went blunderingaway to the dining room, which she found after going into achina closet, and opening the door of a room where old Mr. Gardinerwas taking a little private refreshment. Making a dart at thetable, she secured the coffee, which she immediately spilled,thereby making the front of her dress as bad as the back.

"Oh, dear, what a blunderbuss I am!" exclaimed Jo, finishingMeg's glove by scrubbing her gown with it.

"Can I help you?" said a friendly voice. And there was Laurie,with a full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in the other.

"I was trying to get something for Meg, who is very tired, andsomeone shook me, and here I am in a nice state," answered Jo,glancing dismally from the stained skirt to the coffee-colored glove.

"Too bad! I was looking for someone to give this to. May Itake it to your sister?"

"Oh, thank you! I'll show you where she is. I don't offer totake it myself, for I should only get into another scrape if I did."

"Hush! Don't say anything," she whispered, adding aloud, "It'snothing. I turned my foot a little, that's all," and limped upstairsto put her things on.

Hannah scolded, Meg cried, and Jo was at her wits' end, tillshe decided to take things into her own hands. Slipping out, she randown and, finding a servant, asked if he could get her a carriage.It happened to be a hired waiter who knew nothing about theneighborhood and Jo was looking round for help when Laurie, who hadheard what she said, came up and offered his grandfather's carriage,which had just come for him, he said.

"It's so early! You can't mean to go yet?" began Jo, lookingrelieved but hesitating to accept the offer.

"I always go early, I do, truly! Please let me take you home.It's all on my way, you know, and it rains, they say."

That settled it, and telling him of Meg's mishap, Jo gratefullyaccepted and rushed up to bring down the rest of the party. Hannahhated rain as much as a cat does so she made no trouble, and theyrolled away in the luxurious close carriage, feeling very festiveand elegant. Laurie went on the box so Meg could keep her foot up,and the girls talked over their party in freedom.

"I had a capital time. Did you?" asked Jo, rumpling up herhair, and making herself comfortable.

"Yes, till I hurt myself. Sallie's friend, Annie Moffat, tooka fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend a week with her whenSallie does. She is going in the spring when the opera comes, andit will be perfectly splendid, if Mother only lets me go," answeredMeg, cheering up at the thought.

"I saw you dancing with the red headed man I ran away from. Washe nice?"

"Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red, and he was very polite,and I had a delicious redowa with him."

"He looked like a grasshopper in a fit when he did the new step.Laurie and I couldn't help laughing. Did you hear us?"

"No, but it was very rude. What were you about all that time,hidden away there?"

Jo told her adventures, and by the time she had finished theywere at home. With many thanks, they said good night and crept in,hoping to disturb no one, but the instant their door creaked, twolittle nightcaps bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices criedout . . .

"Tell about the party! Tell about the party!"

With what Meg called 'a great want of manners' Jo had saved somebonbons for the little girls, and they soon subsided, after hearingthe most thrilling events of the evening.

"I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady, tocome home from the party in a carriage and sit in my dressing gownwith a maid to wait on me," said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot witharnica and brushed her hair.

"I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit morethan we do, in spite of our burned hair, old gowns, one glove apieceand tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enoughto wear them." And I think Jo was quite right.