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Jo’s Journal

           Itflewopen,andtherehestoodinhisdressinggown,withabigbluesockononehandandadarningneedleintheother.Hedidn’tseematallashamedofit,forwhenIexplainedandhurriedon,hewavedhishand,sockandall,sayinginhisloud,cheerfulway...

           "Youhafafinedaytomakeyourwalk.Bonvoyage,Mademoiselle."

           Ilaughedallthewaydownstairs,butitwasalittlepathetic,alsotothinkofthepoormanhavingtomendhisownclothes.TheGermangentlemenembroider,Iknow,butdarninghoseisanotherthingandnotsopretty.

           Saturday

           Nothinghashappenedtowriteabout,exceptacallonMissNorton,whohasaroomfullofprettythings,andwhowasverycharming,forsheshowedmeallhertreasures,andaskedmeifIwouldsometimesgowithhertolecturesandconcerts,asherescort,ifIenjoyedthem.Sheputitasafavor,butI’msureMrs.Kirkehastoldheraboutus,andshedoesitoutofkindnesstome.I’masproudasLucifer,butsuchfavorsfromsuchpeopledon’tburdenme,andIacceptedgratefully.

           WhenIgotbacktothenurserytherewassuchanuproarintheparlorthatIlookedin,andtherewasMr.Bhaerdownonhishandsandknees,withTinaonhisback,Kittyleadinghimwithajumprope,andMinniefeedingtwosmallboyswithseedcakes,astheyroaredandrampedincagesbuiltofchairs.

           "Weareplayingnargerie,"explainedKitty.

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