"I know it," said March, dejectedly; "but I do hate to take girls' money; somehow, it does not seem quite--quite manly."
"Better remember what your mother talked to you 'bout last Sunday, 'bout its bein' more of a blessin' to give than to get," said Chi, sententiously.
"I do remember, and there 's nobody in the world I 'd be more willing to take it from than from you, all of you, but--"
"Me, too?" interrupted Hazel, leaning nearer with great, eager, questioning eyes.
"Yes, you, too, Hazel," March replied gently, with such unwonted humility of spirit shining through his rare, sweet smile, that Hazel bounced up from her seat at the table, and, going behind March's chair, clasped both arms tightly around his neck, laid the dark, curly head down upon the top of his golden one, exclaiming delightedly:
"Oh, March, you are the dearest fellow in the world. I never thought you 'd give in so--and I love you for it! There now,"--with a big squeeze of the golden head--"you 've made me superfluously happy." Hazel took her seat, flushed rosy red in pleasurable anticipation of being allowed, at last, to give to those she loved, and wholly unmindful of her slip of the tongue.
"Now that's settled, I move that each of you keep three dollars of that money 'gainst the Wishin'-Tree business. Chris'mus 'll be here 'fore you can say 'Jack Robinson.'"
"Second the motion," said Budd and Cherry in the same breath.
It was a unanimous vote.
"There is just one thing I want to say," said March, who, in a bewilderment of happy emotions, had been unable to reply one word to Hazel, "and that is, that I want you to consider that you have lent it to me and let me have the pleasure of paying back, sometime, when I am a man."