t in the world are you going to do now, Jo?" asked Meg one snowy
afternoon, as her sister came tramping through the hall, in rubber
boots, old sack, and hood, with a broom in one hand and a shovel in the
other.

"Going out for exercise," answered Jo with a mischievous twinkle in her
eyes.

"I should think two long walks this morning would have been enough!
It's cold and dull out, and I advise you to stay warm and dry by the
fire, as I do," said Meg with a shiver.

"Never take advice! Can't keep still all day, and not being a
pussycat, I don't like to doze by the fire. I like adventures, and I'm
going to find some."

Meg went back to toast her feet and read _Ivanhoe_, and Jo began to dig
paths with great energy. The snow was light, and with her broom she
soon swept a path all round the garden, for Beth to walk in when the
sun came out and the invalid dolls needed air. Now, the garden
separated the Marches' house from that of Mr. Laurence. Both stood in
a suburb of the city, which was still country-like, with groves and
lawns, large gardens, and quiet streets. A low hedge parted the two
estates. On one side was an old, brown house, looking rather bare and
shabby, robbed of the vines that in summer covered its walls and the
flowers, which then surrounded it. On the other side was a stately
stone mansion, plainly betokening every sort of comfort and luxury,
from the big coach house and well-kept grounds to the conservatory and
the glimpses of lovely things one caught between the rich curtains.

Yet it seemed a lonely, lifeless sort of house, for no children
frolicked on the lawn, no motherly face ever smiled at the windows, and
few people went in and out, except the old gentleman and his grandson.

To Jo's lively fancy, this fine house seemed a kind of enchanted
palace, full of splendors and delights which no one enjoyed. She had
long wanted to behold these hidden glories, and to know the Laurence
boy, who looked as if he would like to be known, if he only knew how to
begin. Since the party, she had been more eager than ever, and had
planned many ways of making friends with him, but he had not been seen
lately, and Jo began to think he had gone away, when she one day spied
a brown face at an upper window, looking wistfully down into their
garden, where Beth and Amy were snow-balling one another.

"That boy is suffering for society and fun," she said to herself. "His
grandpa does not know what's good for hi