It was on the tip of Jo's tongue to say that it would be hard for her to brighten any one up on that particular morning, but pride forbade the words. If the girls had forgotten so soon the change in her affairs that was nothing less than tragedy to her, then she would not remind them of it!
She permitted her companions to lead her to the Harrison house, the scene of all the excitement the previous afternoon.
"The fire was a false alarm in more senses than one," said Nan, as she opened the gate. "The Jamesons' hired man cleared out the chimney for us, and except for the dirt and the smoke grime on the woodwork, the house is as good as ever. Even Aunt Emma's room isn't hurt," she added, "although we've put her in the big front room until the paint can be washed and her room made presentable again."
Jo felt numb and dazed, almost as her father must have felt when he reached home the night before. It was so hard to pretend to be cheerful and matter-of-fact when one's world was falling to pieces about one's feet! She wanted to run away and hide herself in a corner and be openly just as miserable as she felt.
But Sadie's arm was linked in hers. She would have to go on pretending to be cheerful for a little while yet.
Her two chums took her up to the sunny front room where Miss Emma was sitting, her face brighter than Jo ever remembered it.
Mrs. Harrison, seated beside the invalid, came forward as Jo entered the room and kissed the girl affectionately.
"We owe you a great debt of gratitude, my dear," she said. "And now," with a glance over her shoulder at Miss Emma, "this lady has a request to make of you."
"A request?" Jo echoed, wondering.
She looked toward the two girls as though for an explanation. Both Nan and Sadie were smiling, and now Nan pushed her forward impatiently.