Meg spoke seriously, and expected to see Laurie frown or laugh; but he did neither,—for after a quick look at her, he said, in his impetuous way, ‘I like that; for I’ve seen enough harm done to wish other women would think as you do!’

‘You are not made wise by experience, I hope?’ and there was an anxious accent in Meg’s voice.

‘No; I give you my word for it. Don’t think too well of me, either; this is not one of my temptations. Being brought up where wine is as common as water, and almost as harmless, I don’t care for it; but when a pretty girl offers it, one don’t like to refuse, you see.’

‘But you will, for the sake of others, if not for your own. Come, Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest day of my life.’

A demand so sudden and so serious, made the young man hesitate a moment, for ridicule is often harder to bear than self-denial. Meg knew that if he gave the promise he would keep it at all costs; and, feeling her power, used it as a woman may for her friend’s good. She did not speak, but she looked up at him with a face made very eloquent by happiness, and a smile which said, ‘No one can refuse me anything today.’ Laurie, certainly, could not; and, with an answering smile, he gave her his hand, saying, heartily, ‘I promise, Mrs Brooke!’

‘I thank you, very, very much.’

‘And I drink “Long life to your resolution,” Teddy,’ cried Jo, baptizing him with a splash of lemonade, as she waved her glass, and beamed approvingly upon him.

So the toast was drunk, the pledge made, and loyally kept, in spite of many temptations; for, with instinctive wisdom, the girls had seized a happy moment to do their friend a service, for which he thanked them all his life.

After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through house and garden, enjoying the sunshine without and within. Meg and John happened to be standing together in the middle of the grass-plot, when Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to this unfashionable wedding.

‘All the married people take hands and dance round the new-made husband and wife, as the Germans do, while we bachelors and spinsters prance in couples outside!’ cried Laurie, galloping down the path with Amy, with such infectious spirit and skill that every one else followed their example without a murmur. Mr and Mrs March, Aunt and Uncle Carrol, began it; others rapidly joined in; even Sallie Moffat, after a moment’s hesitation, threw her train over her arm, and whisked Ned into the ring. But the crowning joke was Mr Laurence and Aunt March; for when the stately old gentleman chasséed solemnly up to the old lady, she just tucked her cane under her arm, and hopped briskly away to join hands with the rest, and dance about the bridal pair, while the young folks pervaded the garden, like butterflies on a midsummer day.