don't know
what, and leave you to ask; but from his ravings when delirious I fear
he has been in some serious trouble the past year. He seems ten years
older, but improved, quieter, and so grateful to us. It is pathetic to
see the hunger in his eyes as they rest on Ted, as if he couldn't see
enough of him. He says Kansas was a failure, but can't talk much; so I
bide my time. The people here love him very much, and he cares for that
sort of thing now; used to scorn any show of emotion, you know; now
he wants everyone to think well of him, and can't do enough to win
affection and respect. I may be all wrong. You will soon find out. Ted
is in clover, and the trip has done him a world of good. Let me take him
to Europe when we go? Apron-strings don't agree with him any better than
they did with me when I proposed to run away to Washington with you some
century ago. Aren't you sorry you didn't?'

This private letter set Mrs Jo's lively fancy in a ferment, and she
imagined every known crime, affliction, and complication which could
possibly have befallen Dan. He was too feeble to be worried with
questions now, but she promised herself most interesting revelations
when she got him safe at home; for the 'firebrand' was her most
interesting boy. She begged him to come, and spent more time in
composing a letter that should bring him, than she did over the most
thrilling episodes in her 'works'.

No one but Dan saw the letter; but it did bring him, and one November
day Mr Laurie helped a feeble man out of a carriage at the door of
Plumfield, and Mother Bhaer received the wanderer like a recovered son;
while Ted, in a disreputable-looking hat and an astonishing pair of
boots, performed a sort of war-dance round the interesting group.

'Right upstairs and rest; I'm nurse now, and this ghost must eat before
he talks to anyone,' commanded Mrs Jo, trying not to show how shocked
she was at this shorn and shaven, gaunt and pallid shadow of the
stalwart man she parted with.

He was quite content to obey, and lay on the long lounge in the room
prepared for him, looking about as tranquilly as a sick child restored
to its own nursery and mother's arms, while his new nurse fed and
refreshed him, bravely controlling the questions that burned upon her
tongue. Being weak and weary, he soon fell asleep; and then she stole
away to enjoy the society of the 'rascals', whom she scolded and petted,
pumped and praised, to her heart's content.

'