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What makes you do so many things just for me? I know you don't really care for me. You are so different from most farmers' sons." Jo's head drooped a little and she put one hand on his arm. "I can't help being good to folks. It's just the angel in me," Thaine declared. Then he added seriously, "I wish I could do something for you, Jo. All the boys are wild about you tonight. You are a picture."
His route lay through Pall Mall, and at the corner, instead of going through the Green Park, the cabman turned to drive up St. James's Street. He called to the driver to stop. He would go in and ask if Jo still belonged there. He went in.
Laurie seemed to forget Jo for a minute, and Jo was glad of it, for the fact that he told her these things so freely and so naturally assured her that he had quite forgiven and forgotten. She tried to draw away her hand, but as if he guessed the thought that prompted the half-involuntary impulse, Laurie held it fast, and said, with a manly gravity she had never seen in him before...
Things, under the clever questioning of the young scoutmaster, seemed to be fitting in with each other, just as a carpenter dovetails the ends of a box together. "It looks as though Jo might have spied on you when you went up to the attic to put that new money away with the rest.
"My dear physician!" cries Miss Flite. "My meritorious, distinguished, honourable officer!" She uses some odd expressions, but is as cordial and full of heart as sanity itself can be more so than it often is. Allan, very patient with her, waits until she has no more raptures to express, then points out Jo, trembling in a doorway, and tells her how he comes there.
"Well, they can eat beef and bread and butter, if they are hungry, only it's mortifying to have to spend your whole morning for nothing," thought Jo, as she rang the bell half an hour later than usual, and stood, hot, tired, and dispirited, surveying the feast spread before Laurie, accustomed to all sorts of elegance, and Miss Crocker, whose tattling tongue would report them far and wide.
The roundup circled down to the Canadian River, and back in the fall by the Don Carlos Hills, and Jo saw no more of the Pacer, though he heard of him from many quarters, for the colt, now a vigorous, young horse, rising three, was beginning to be talked of. Antelope Springs is in the middle of a great level plain.
"Dinner's ready, let me ring the bell," and Rob began a solo upon that instrument which made it impossible to hear one's self speak. "Then I may have Nan, may I?" asked Mrs. Jo. "A dozen Nans if you want them, my dear," answered Mr. Bhaer, who had room in his fatherly heart for all the naughty neglected children in the world. When Mrs.
"That's Jo," says Mr. Snagsby. Jo stands amazed in the disk of light, like a ragged figure in a magic-lantern, trembling to think that he has offended against the law in not having moved on far enough. Mr. Snagsby, however, giving him the consolatory assurance, "It's only a job you will be paid for, Jo," he recovers; and on being taken outside by Mr.
Before Jo could find words sufficiently strong to express his opinion of such a murderous intention, the door opened, and a surly-looking man a European settler entered with his breakfast. This meal consisted of a baked breadfruit and a can of water. "Ha! you've come to let me out, have you?" cried Jo, in a tone of forced pleasantry, which was anything but cheerful.
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