They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did afterward. If you will believe me, she went and knocked at the study door before she gave herself time to think, and when a gruff voice called out, “come in!” she did go in, right up to Mr. Laurence, who looked quite taken aback, and held out her hand, saying, with only a small quaver in her voice, “I came to thank you, sir, for...” But she didn’t finish, for he looked so friendly that she forgot her speech and, only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, she put both arms round his neck and kissed him.
If the roof of the house had suddenly flown off, the old gentleman wouldn’t have been more astonished. But he liked it. Oh, dear, yes, he liked it amazingly! And was so touched and pleased by that confiding little kiss that all his crustiness vanished, and he just set her on his knee, and laid his wrinkled cheek against her rosy one, feeling as if he had got his own little granddaughter back again. Beth ceased to fear him from that moment, and sat there talking to him as cozily as if she had known him all her life, for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride. When she went home, he walked with her to her own gate, shook hands cordially, and touched his hat as he marched back again, looking very stately and erect, like a handsome, soldierly old gentleman, as he was.
When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig, by way of expressing her satisfaction, Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise, and Meg exclaimed, with up-lifted hands, “Well, I do believe the world is coming to an end.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMY’S VALLEY OF HUMILIATION
“That boy is a perfect cyclops, isn’t he?” said Amy one day, as Laurie clattered by on horseback, with a flourish of his whip as he passed.
“How dare you say so, when he’s got both his eyes? And very handsome ones they are, too,” cried Jo, who resented any slighting remarks about her friend.
“I didn’t say anything about his eyes, and I don’t see why you need fire up when I admire his riding.”
“Oh, my goodness! That little goose means a centaur, and she called him a Cyclops,” exclaimed Jo, with a burst of laughter.
“You needn’t be so rude, it’s only a ‘lapse of lingy’, as Mr. Davis says,” retorted Amy, finishing Jo with her Latin. “I just wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse,” she added, as if to herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear.
“Why?” asked Meg kindly, for Jo had gone off in another laugh at Amy’s second blunder.