`I had a capital time. Did you?' asked Jo, rumpling up her hair, and making herself comfortable.

`Yes, till I hurt myself. Sallies friend, Annie Moffat, took a fancy to me, and asked me to come and spend a week with her when Sallie does. She is going in the spring, when the opera comes; and it will be perfectly splendid, if Mother only lets me go,' answered Meg, cheering up at the thought.

`I saw you with the red-headed man I ran away from.

Was he nice?'

`Oh, very! His hair is auburn, not red; and he is very polite.'

`He looked like a grasshopper in a fit. Laurie and I couldn't help laughing. Did you hear us?'

`No; but it was very rude. What were you about all that time, hidden away there?'

Jo told her adventures, and, by the time she had finished, they were at home. With many thanks, they said `Good night', and crept in, hoping to disturb no one; but the instant their door creaked, two little night-caps bobbed up, and two sleepy but eager voices cried out:

`Tell about the party! tell about the party' With what Meg called "a great want of manners", Jo had saved some bonbons for the little girls; and they soon subsided, after hearing the most thrilling events of the evening. `I declare, it really seems like being a fine young lady to come home from the party in a carriage, and sit in my dressing-gown with a maid to wait on me,' said Meg, as Jo bound up her foot with arnica, and brushed her hair.

`I don't believe fine young ladies enjoy themselves a bit more than we do, in spite of our burnt hair, old gowns, one glove apiece, and tight slippers that sprain our ankles when we are silly enough to wear them.' And I think Jo was quite right.