"My first name is theodore, but I don't like it, for the fellows called me Dora, so I made the say Laurie instead."
"Don't you like to dance, Miss Jo?" asked Laurie, looking as if he thought the name suited her.
Laurie didn't seem to know where to begin, but Jo's eager questions soon set him going, and he told her how he had been at school in Vevay, where the boys never wore hats and had a fleet of boats on the lake, and for holiday fun went on walking trips about Switzerland with their teachers.
Laurie's bashfulness soon wore off, for Jo's gentlemanly demeanor amused and set him at his ease, and Jo was her merry self again, because her dress was forgotten and nobody lifted their eyebrows at her.
Laurie smiled but didn't seem shocked, and answered with a shrug.
The hall was empty, and they had a grand polka, for Laurie danced well, and taught her the German step, which delighted Jo, being full of swing and spring.
"I'll ask Laurie. He will go," said Jo," looking relieved as the idea occurred to her.
And there was Laurie, with a full cup in one hand and a plate of ice in the other.
Jo led the way, and as if used to waiting on ladies, Laurie drew up a little table, brought a second installment of coffee and ice for Jo, and was so obliging that even particular Meg pronounced him a `nice boy'.
It happened to be a hired waiter who knew nothing about the neighborhood and Jo was looking round for help when Laurie, who had heard what she said, came up and offered his grandfather's carriage, which had just come for him, he said.
Laurie went on the box so Meg could keep her foot up, and the girls talked over their party in freedom.