She leaned her forehead on the cool pane, and stood half hidden by the curtains, never minding that her favourite song had begun, till someone touched her; and, turning, she saw Laurie, looking penitent, as he said, with his very best bow, and his hand out:
`Please forgive my rudeness, and come and have an ice with me.'
`I'm afraid it will be too disagreeable to you,' said Meg, trying to look offended, and failing entirely.
`Not a bit of it. Come, I'll be good; I don't like your gown, but I do think you are - just splendid'; and he waved his hands, as if words failed to express his admiration.
Meg smiled and relented, and whispered, as they stood waiting: `Take care my skirt don't trip you up; it's the plague of my life, and I was a goose to wear it.'
`Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful', said Laurie, looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of.
`Laurie, I want you to do me a favour; will you?' said Meg.
`Won't I!' said Laurie, with alacrity.
`Please don't tell them at home about my dress tonight. They won't understand the joke, and it will worry Mother.'
`Then why did you do it?' said Laurie's eyes, so plainly that Meg hastily added: `I shall tell them myself all about it and "'fess" to Mother how silly I've been. But I'd rather do it myself; so you'll not tell, will you?'
`I give you my word I won't; only what shall I say when they ask me?'
`Just say I looked pretty well, and was having a good time.'
`I'll say the first with all my heart; but how about the other? You don't look as if you were having a good time; are you?' and Laurie looked at her with an expression which made her answer, in a whisper: `No, not just now. Don't think I'm horrid; I only wanted a little fun, but this sort doesn't pay, I find, and I'm getting tired of it.'
`Here comes Ned Moffat; what does he want?' said Laurie, knitting his black brows as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a pleasant addition to the party.
`What a bore!' said Meg, assuming a languid air, which amused Laurie immensely.
He did not speak to her again till supper-time, when he saw her drinking champagne with Ned and his friend Fisher, who were behaving `like a pair of fools', as Laurie said to himself, for he felt a brotherly sort of right to watch over the Marches, and fight their battles whenever a defender was needed.
`You'll have a splitting headache tomorrow, if you drink that stuff. I wouldn't, Meg; your mother doesn't like it, you know,' he whispered, leaning over her chair, as Ned turned to refill her glass, and Fisher stooped to pick up her fan.
`I'm not Meg tonight; I'm a "doll", who does all sorts of crazy things. Tomorrow I shall put away my "fuss and feathers", and be desperately good again,' she answered, with an affected little laugh.
`Wish tomorrow was here, then,' muttered Laurie, walking off, ill-pleased at the change he saw in her.
Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did; after supper she undertook the German polka, and blundered through it, nearly upsetting her partner with her long skirt, and romping in