PART 2
32. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
(continued)
Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa--long,
broad, well-cushioned, and low, a trifle shabby, as well it might
be, for the girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies,
fished over the back, rode on the arms, and had menageries
under it as children, and rested tired heads, dreamed dreams,
and listened to tender talk on it as young women. They all loved
it, for it was a family refuge, and one corner had always been
Jo's favorite lounging place. Among the many pillows that adorned
the venerable couch was one, hard, round, covered with prickly
horsehair, and furnished with a knobby button at each end. This
repulsive pillow was her especial property, being used as a weapon
of defense, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber.
Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with
deep aversion, having been unmercifully pummeled with it in former
days when romping was allowed, and now frequently debarred by it
from the seat he most coveted next ot Jo in the sofa corner. If
`the sausage' as the called it, stood on end, it was a sign that
he might approach and repose, but if it lay flat across the sofa,
woe to man, woman, or child who dared disturb it! That evening
Jo forgot to barricade her corner, and had not been in her seat
five minutes, before a massive form appeared beside her, and with
both arms spread over the sofa back, both long legs stretched out
before him, Laurie exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction...
"Now, this is filling at the price."
"No slang," snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was
too late, there was no room for it, and coasting onto the floor,
it disappeared in a most mysterious manner.
"Come, Jo, don't be thorny. After studying himself to a
skeleton all the week, a fellow deserves petting and ought to get
it."
"Beth will pet you. I'm busy."
"No, she's not to be bothered with me, but you like that sort
of thing, unless you've suddenly lost your taste for it. Have you?
Do you hate your boy, and want to fire pillows at him?"
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