"What can you expect, when you take one's breath away, creeping in like a burglar, and letting cats out of bags like that? Get up, you ridiculous boy, and tell me all about it."
"Not a word, unless you let me come in my old place, and promise not to barricade."
Jo laughed at that as she had not done for many a long day, and patted the sofa invitingly, as she said, in a cordial tone,—
"The old pillow is up garret, and we don't need it now; so, come and 'fess, Teddy."
"How good it sounds to hear you say 'Teddy'! No one ever calls me that but you;" and Laurie sat down, with an air of great content.
"What does Amy call you?"
"My lord."
"That's like her. Well, you look it;" and Jo's eyes plainly betrayed that she found her boy comelier than ever.
The pillow was gone, but there was a barricade, nevertheless,—a natural one, raised by time, absence, and change of heart. Both felt it, and for a minute looked at one another as if that invisible barrier cast a little shadow over them. It was gone directly, however, for Laurie said, with a vain attempt at dignity,—
"Don't I look like a married man and the head of a family?"