s he wanted, ravage the sugar-bowl, and talk with 'Mum';
for the two had great larks together. Mrs Jo always arranged her own
parlour, refilled her vases, and gave the little touches that left it
cool and neat for the day. Going to draw down the curtain, she beheld an
artist sketching on the lawn, and groaned as she hastily retired to the
back window to shake her duster.

At that moment the bell rang and the sound of wheels was heard in the
road.

'I'll go; Mary lets 'em in'; and Ted smoothed his hair as he made for
the hall.

'Can't see anyone. Give me a chance to fly upstairs,' whispered Mrs Jo,
preparing to escape. But before she could do so, a man appeared at the
door with a card in his hand. Ted met him with a stern air, and his
mother dodged behind the window-curtains to bide her time for escape.

'I am doing a series of articles for the Saturday Tattler, and I
called to see Mrs Bhaer the first of all,' began the newcomer in the
insinuating tone of his tribe, while his quick eyes were taking in all
they could, experience having taught him to make the most of his time,
as his visits were usually short ones.

'Mrs Bhaer never sees reporters, sir.'

'But a few moments will be all I ask,' said the man, edging his way
farther in.

'You can't see her, for she is out,' replied Teddy, as a backward glance
showed him that his unhappy parent had vanished--through the window, he
supposed, as she sometimes did when hard bestead.

'Very sorry. I'll call again. Is this her study? Charming room!' And the
intruder fell back on the parlour, bound to see something and bag a fact
if he died in the attempt. 'It is not,' said Teddy, gently but firmly
backing him down the hall, devoutly hoping that his mother had escaped
round the corner of the house.

'If you could tell me Mrs Bhaer's age and birthplace, date of marriage,
and number of children, I should be much obliged,' continued the
unabashed visitor as he tripped over the door-mat.

'She is about sixty, born in Nova Zembla, married just forty years ago
today, and has eleven daughters. Anything else, sir?' And Ted's sober
face was such a funny contrast to his ridiculous reply that the reporter
owned himself routed, and retired laughing just as a lady followed by
three beaming girls came up the steps.

'We are all the way from Oshkosh, and couldn't go home without seein'
dear Aunt Jo. My girls just admire her works, and lot on gettin' a
sight of her. I know it's early;