46. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
For a fortnight, the Professor came and went with lover-like
regularity. Then he stayed away for three whole days, and made
no sign, a proceeding which caused everybody to look sober, and
Jo to become pensive, at first, and then--alas for romance--very
"Disgusted, I dare say, and gone home as suddenly as he came.
It's nothing tome, of course, but I should think he would have
come and bid us goodbye like a gentleman," she said to herself,
with a despairing look at the gate, as she put on her things for
the customary walk one dull afternoon.
"You'd better take the little umbrella, dear. It looks like
rain," said her mother, observing that she had on her new bonnet,
but not alluding to the fact.
"Yes, Marmee, do you want anything in town? I've got to
run in and get some paper," returned Jo, pulling out the bow
under her chin before the glass as an excuse for not looking at
"Yes, I want some twilled silesia, a paper of number nine
needles, and two yards of narrow lavender ribbon. Have you got
your thick boots on, and something warm under your cloak?"
"I believe so," answered Jo absently.
"If you happen to meet Mr. Bhaer, bring him home to tea.
I quite long to see the dear man," added Mrs. March.
Jo heard that, but made no answer, except to kiss her mother,
and walk rapidly away, thinking with a glow of gratitude, in spite
of her heartache, "How good she is to me! What do girls do who
haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles?"