"Another letter from Jo!" Beth exclaimed. "And this one is for me."

Laurie smiled, not wishing to let on to dear Beth how bitter he really felt. Jo had mentioned him at the end of her letters thus far, asking her mother if he had been studying well or commenting about how happy he must be at college. But she still hadn't written a letter to him.

She would, by and by, he convinced himself. She would write him one. She would change her mind and come back and love him, and everything would be as it should.

"Do you think you'll read this one to me too?" Laurie asked, sitting down on the floor by Beth's feet, and pulling a kitten into his arms.

"Yes, I'll skim through and see if there's something you'll find interesting." Beth opened up the letter carefully and unfolded the pages. "Goodness, she's written me a whole novel!"

And hopefully, this one won't be about any awful professors, Laurie thought scornfully to himself. He knew logically there wasn't much chance of anything actually happening. As Jo said, she was awkward and bashful, and the man was busy and nearly forty. Still, the way she had gone about describing him irked Laurie. The kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice, she'd written, among other things. Many other things. She must have taken quite a good long look. It seemed suspiciously like the laundry woman's child wasn't the only one who had lost her heart to that awful man.

She would get over him though. It was hard for anything to fascinate Jo for long, it was always on to the next. On to the next project, the next story, the next day. In the end, she would come back to him certainly. And then he would tell her, and everything would be as it should.

"Oh, I'm so glad," Beth remarked to herself, which brought Laurie back to the present.

"What?"

"The girls like her very much, and she's taking German lessons now. I hope it comes to her more easily than French."

Laurie's chest tightened. "Do tell me more," he said, keeping his tone cordial.

Beth went on reading, pausing on occasion to laugh. Jo's letter flowed like poetry, but Laurie couldn't enjoy it. "The Professor was very patient with me, but it must have been a torment to him."

He can't be that great, Laurie thought. Soon enough his patience might run out. Since when had Jo even been interested in German? If she wanted to learn German, she always could have taken lessons from John, he knew the language well. She probably wasn't that serious about it, and when that man realized, he would stop wasting his time.

"I mean to give him something on Christmas, for I dare not offer money."

Laurie snorted. Beth looked up at him.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. Keep going."

Laurie sprawled out on the rug in front of the fire. Mrs. March settled into a chair by the fire with a satisfied smile. Beth sat by her father on the couch, the whole room waiting to hear Jo's next letter. Mrs. March beamed as she read Jo's wishes that they would all have a Merry Christmas. She called him Teddy, as only she did. So far, so good. Then she hit the second paragraph, and Laurie's mood soured.

"Speaking of books reminds me that I'm getting rich in that line, for on New Year's Day Mr. Bhaer gave me a fine Shakespeare. It is one he values much, and I've often admired it... so you may imagine how I felt when he brought it down, without its cover, and showed me my own name in it, 'from my friend Friedrich Bhaer'."

Mr. March's face lit up. "That man knows our Jo," he said. "Do you think she'd let me borrow it to read some when she's back home that is?"

"I'm sure she will dear," Mrs. March said, turning to the next page of Jo's letter. "She loves talking about what she's read with someone, especially her father."

She hadn't mentioned anything about the scarf Laurie had sent. Or maybe she hadn't gotten it yet. He tried to brush it off as Mrs. March continued.

"I'm glad you both like what I tell you about him, and hope you will know him someday."

She just kept going on about him.

"Mother would admire his warm heart, Father his wise head. I admire both, and feel rich in my new 'friend Friedrich Bhaer'."

She wouldn't shut up about this man. Describing what she got him for Christmas.

"It took his fancy immensely, and he put it on his mantlepiece as an article of virtue."

How patronizing of him, didn't she see it?! He probably didn't value it, only saw it unfit to use. Right? He couldn't possibly...

But what if he did? What if he wrote home about her the same way she did to him, telling his relatives about this beautiful young lady who moved in, how her hands flew about her when she talked and how lovely her eyes were, and what if he really did admire what she made for him?

"Laurie?"

"Hm?"

Mrs. March's brow furrowed. "You look troubled."

"Oh, not at all, Marmee," he lied.

"We all miss Jo," Mr. March assured him. "Take comfort in the fact she gets along fine. She doesn't seem homesick at all anymore, I'm glad of it."

"Yes, she does seem rather... at home." Mrs. March looked quite pensive as she tucked the letter away in the little box she kept of Amy's and Jo's. Pensive as Laurie had been a moment ago, but not troubled at all.

You should be troubled, Laurie thought, from the looks of it, Jo's gone and fallen for some dreadful professor and she'll let him carry her off!

He didn't see Beth staring at him oddly.

"Teddy?"

Laurie turned. Beth stood wrapped in her little red shawl. "I thought you had a headache. It's rather chilly out." Spring was dragging its feet reluctantly.

"I know. I'll be fine. I only wanted to come to check on you." Beth sat down next to him in the grass. "What did you think about the letter from today?"

Almost the entire thing had been devoted to a Saturday afternoon in the park. Jo had painted quite a lovely picture- the trees reaching toward a sunny sky, the flowers turning their faces upward, the little Kirke girls learning how to fly a kite. Then she had to go write about how good Friedrich was with the children, and his nephews, and how much they all loved him. "It was fine," he said. Something in his voice must have given him away, because a small pale hand was slipped into his, and gave his palm a squeeze.

"Jo said while she's gone, I'm to manage you."

"I don't need managing, Bethy."

"I don't believe that. You're very bothered that she's making a new friend, aren't you?"

The silence was broken only by the low sigh of the wind. Beth shivered, and Laurie draped his jacket around her shoulders. "Perhaps. But you mustn't tell Marmee. She will lecture me."

"You know that no one could replace you, right? In any of our hearts. You'll always be her boy, and our brother."

"Don't you think it's a bit weird that they're on first name terms now apparently? I mean, that's all we ever hear from her letters, Friedrich this, Friedrich that, and Marmee doesn't seem worried at all."

Beth smiled. "You sound like Jo a few years ago, when Meg got married, remember? It'll be fine, Jo's a smart girl and she wouldn't be friends with anyone who wasn't very good."

Laurie snorted. "Very good? What could possibly be so great about him, what does he have that I don't?"

The smile vanished from Beth's face. "Oh." She suddenly looked very troubled. "Oh. Laurie- I think you have to stop that. What about those girls you met in college, did you like any of-"

"It's always been Jo, and she cannot run off to New York and ruin it!"

"Laurie, I wish you wouldn't shout so-"

"And she knows it, everybody knows it, and Grandfather expects it so she has to come back."

"Laurie," Beth grabbed his other hand as well, "I don't think Jo would- that just doesn't sound like her. Now, if she does love the professor, then we'll all be happy for her, right? Could you do that for our Jo?"

He would not be consoled and flung her hands away. "I'll be hanged if she runs away with some professor. Hanged!" Beth watched him stalk away towards his house, the gate slamming shut behind him.