"Not a bit of it; I'm dying to do it. Come, I'll be good; I don't like your gown, but I do think you are—just splendid;" and he waved his hands, as if words failed to express his admiration.
Meg smiled and relented, and whispered, as they stood waiting to catch the time,—
"Take care my skirt don't trip you up; it's the plague of my life, and I was a goose to wear it."
"Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful," said Laurie, looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of.
Away they went, fleetly and gracefully; for, having practised at home, they were well matched, and the blithe young couple were a pleasant sight to see, as they twirled merrily round and round, feeling more friendly than ever after their small tiff.
"Laurie, I want you to do me a favor; will you?" said Meg, as he stood fanning her, when her breath gave out, which it did very soon, though she would not own why.
"Won't I!" said Laurie, with alacrity.
"Please don't tell them at home about my dress to-night. They won't understand the joke, and it will worry mother."
"Then why did you do it?" said Laurie's eyes, so plainly that Meg hastily added,—
"I shall tell them, myself, all about it, and ''fess' to mother how silly I've been. But I'd rather do it myself; so you'll not tell, will you?"