dismayed at the prospect of so many muddy boots.

On they came, a long line of umbrellas, with splashed legs and
flushed faces underneath; for the gentlemen had been having a good
time all over the town, undisturbed by the rain. Professor Bhaer met
them at the gate, and was making a little speech of welcome, when Mrs
Jo, touched by their bedraggled state, appeared at the door,
beckoning them in. Leaving their host to orate bareheaded in the wet,
the young men hastened up the steps, merry, warm, and eager,
clutching off their hats as they came, and struggling with their
umbrellas, as the order was passed to march in and stack arms.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, down the hall went seventy-five pairs of boots;
soon seventy-five umbrellas dripped sociably in the hospitable tub,
while their owners swarmed all over the lower part of the house; and
seventy-five hearty hands were shaken by the hostess without a
murmur, though some were wet, some very warm, and nearly all bore
trophies of the day's ramble. One impetuous party flourished a small
turtle as he made his compliments; another had a load of sticks cut
from noted spots; and all begged for some memento of Plumfield. A
pile of cards mysteriously appeared on the table, with a written
request for autographs; and despite her morning vow, Mrs Jo wrote
everyone, while her husband and boys did the honours of the house.

Josie fled to the back parlour, but was discovered by exploring
youths, and mortally insulted by one of them, who innocently inquired
if she was Mrs Bhaer. The reception did not last long, and the end
was better than the beginning; for the rain ceased, and a rainbow
shone beautifully over them as the good fellows stood upon the lawn
singing sweetly for a farewell. A happy omen, that bow of promise