Oh, ah! yes, I remember. It is well. The effect of that prescription was wonderful. I’ll never call homoeopathy a humbug again.’
‘You were the humbug this time, and so were the unmedicated pellets I gave you. If sugar or milk can cure diphtheria in this remarkable manner, I’ll make a note of it. O Tom, Tom, will you never be done playing tricks?’
‘O Nan, Nan, will you never be done getting the better of me?’ And the merry pair laughed at one another just as they did in the old times, which always came back freshly when they went to Plumfield.
‘Well, I knew I shouldn’t see you for a week if I didn’t scare up some excuse for a call at the office. You are so desperately busy all the time I never get a word,’ explained Tom.
‘You ought to be busy too, and above such nonsense. Really, Tom, if you don’t give your mind to your lectures, you’ll never get on,’ said Nan soberly.
‘I have quite enough of them as it is,’ answered Tom with an air of disgust. ‘A fellow must lark a bit after dissecting corpuses all day. I can’t stand it long at a time, though some people seem to enjoy it immensely.’
‘Then why not leave it, and do what suits you better? I always thought it a foolish thing, you know,’ said Nan, with a trace of anxiety in the keen eyes that searched for signs of illness in a face as ruddy as a Baldwin apple.
‘You know why I chose it, and why I shall stick to it if it kills me. I may not look delicate, but I’ve a deep-seated heart complaint, and it will carry me off sooner or later; for only one doctor in the world can cure it, and she won’t.’
There was an air of pensive resignation about Tom that was both comic and pathetic; for he was in earnest, and kept on giving hints of this sort, without the least encouragement.
Nan frowned; but she was used to it, and knew how to treat him.
‘She is curing it in the best and only way; but a more refractory patient never lived. Did you go to that ball, as I directed?’
‘I did.’
‘And devote yourself to pretty Miss West?’
‘Danced with her the whole evening.’
‘No impression made on that susceptible organ of yours?’
‘Not the slightest. I gaped in her face once, forgot to feed her, and gave a sigh of relief when I handed her over to her mamma.’
‘Repeat the dose as often as possible, and note the symptoms. I predict that you’ll “cry for it” by and by.’
‘Never! I’m sure it doesn’t suit my constitution.’
‘We shall see. Obey orders!’ sternly.
‘Yes, Doctor,’ meekly.
Silence reigned for a moment; then, as if the bone of contention was forgotten in the pleasant recollections called up by familiar objects, Nan said suddenly:
‘What fun we used to have in that wood! Do you remember how you tumbled out of the big nut-tree and nearly broke your collar-bones?’
‘Don’t I! and how you steeped me in wormwood till I was a fine mahogany colour, and Aunt Jo wailed over my spoilt jacket,’ laughed Tom, a boy again in a minute.
‘And how you set the house afire?’
‘And you ran off for your band-box?’
‘Do you ever say “Thunder-turtles” now?’
‘Do people ever call you “Giddy-gaddy”?’
‘Daisy does. Dear thing, I haven’t seen her for a week.’
‘I saw Demi this morning, and he said she was keeping house for Mother Bhaer.’
‘She always does when Aunt Jo gets into a vortex. Daisy is a model housekeeper; and you couldn’t do better than make your bow to her, if you can’t go to work and wait till you are grown up before you begin lovering.’
‘Nat would break his fiddle over my head if I suggested such a thing. No, thank you. Another name is engraved upon my heart as indelibly as the blue anchor on my arm. “Hope” is my motto, and “No surrender”, yours; see who will hold out longest.’
‘You silly boys think we must pair off as we did when children; but we shall do nothing of the kind. How well Parnassus looks from here!’ said Nan, abruptly changing the conversation again.
‘It is a fine house; but I love old Plum best. Wouldn’t Aunt March stare if she could see the changes here?’ answered Tom, as they both paused at the great gate to look at the pleasant landscape before them.
A sudden whoop startled them, as a long boy with a wild yellow head came leaping over a hedge like a kangaroo, followed by a slender girl, who stuck in the hawthorn, and sat there laughing like a witch. A pretty little lass she was, with curly dark hair, bright eyes, and a very expressive face. Her hat was at her back, and her skirts a good deal the worse for the brooks she had crossed, the trees she had climbed, and the last leap, which added several fine rents.
‘Take me down, Nan, please. Tom, hold Ted; he’s got my book, and I will have it,’ called Josie from her perch, not at all daunted by the appearance of her friends.
Tom promptly collared the thief, while Nan picked Josie from among the thorns and set her on her feet without a word of reproof; for having been a romp in her own girlhood, she was very indulgent to like tastes in others. ‘What’s the matter, dear?’ she asked, pinning up the longest rip, while Josie examined the scratches on her hands.
‘I was studying my part in the willow, and Ted came slyly up and poked the book out of my hands with his rod. It fell in the brook, and before I could scrabble down he was off. You wretch, give it back this moment or I’ll box your ears,’ cried Josie, laughing and scolding in the same breath.
Escaping from Tom, Ted struck a sentimental attitude, and with tender glances at the wet, torn young person before him, delivered Claude Melnotte’s famous speech in a lackadaisical way that was irresistibly funny, ending with ‘Dost like the picture, love?’ as he made an object of himself by tying his long legs in a knot and distorting his face horribly.
The sound of applause from the piazza put a stop to these antics, and the young folks went up the avenue together very much in the old style when Tom drove four in hand and Nan was the best horse in the team. Rosy, breathless, and merry, they greeted the ladies and sat down on the steps to rest, Aunt Meg sewing up her daughter’s rags while Mrs Jo smoothed the Lion’s mane, and rescued the book. Daisy appeared in a moment to greet her friend, and all began to talk.
‘Muffins for tea; better stay and eat ’em; Daisy’s never fail,’ said Ted hospitably.
‘He’s a judge; he ate nine last time. That’s why he’s so fat,’ added Josie, with a withering glance at her cousin, who was as thin as a lath.
‘I must go and see Lucy Dove. She has a whitlow, and it’s time to lance it. I’ll tea at college,’ answered Nan, feeling in her pocket to be sure she had not forgotten her case of instruments.
‘Thanks, I’m going there also. Tom Merryweather has granulated lids, and I promised to touch them up for him. Save a doctor’s fee and be good practice for me. I’m clumsy with my thumbs,’ said Tom, bound to be near his idol while he could.
‘Hush! Daisy doesn’t like to hear you saw-bones talk of your work. Muffins suit us better’; and Ted grinned sweetly, with a view to future favours in the eating line.
‘Any news of the Commodore?’ asked Tom.
‘He is on his way home, and Dan hopes to come soon. I long to see my boys together, and have begged the wanderers to come to Thanksgiving, if not before,’ answered Mrs Jo, beaming at the thought.
‘They’ll come, every man of them, if they can. Even Jack will risk losing a dollar for the sake of