Free Classics Mutilated by Jeff Conner

every sort of creature comfort, 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, thought Jo, for no children frolicked on the lawn, no motherly face smiled at the window, and few people went in and out except for the old gentleman and his grandson, Laurie. 
    To Jo's lively fancy, this fine house seemed an enchanted palace full of remarkable splendors and delights, which no one enjoyed. She had long wanted to behold these hidden glories and to know the Laurence boy. Talking with him at the party had only enhanced his attraction. He had only recently arrived to reside with his grandfather. The story, as Jo had heard it, was that he had studied in Europe following the death of his parents, although he had not mentioned such an event last night. 
    Since the party, Jo had been more eager than ever to know him, and she had planned ways of making friends with him, but she had not seen him outside today, and she began to think he may have gone away. Earlier in the day, though, she had spied a pale face in an upper window, looking wistfully down into their yard. 
    "That boy is suffering from a lack of society and fun," she said to herself. "He keeps himself shut up all day as if he's afraid of the sun. He needs somebody young and lively to associate with. I've a mind to go over and tell him so!" 
    The idea amused Jo, who liked to do daring things and was always scandalizing Meg by her peculiar performances. The plan of "going over there" was not forgotten. And when the snowy afternoon came, Jo resolved to try what could be done. She waited to see Mr. Laurence drive off, and then she sallied forth to dig her way down to the hedge, where she paused and took a survey. 
    All was quiet. The curtains were down at the lower windows, and the servants were out of sight. Nothing human was visible but a curly black head leaning on a thin hand in an upper window. 
    "Poor boy," thought Jo. "All alone on this dismal day. It's a shame. I'll toss up a snowball and make him look at me, and then say a kind word." 
    Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a face which lost its listless expression in an instant as the big eyes brightened and the wide mouth smiled. Jo waved, laughing as she flourished her shovel and called out— 
    "How do you do? Are you sick?" 
    Up went the window sash, and Laurie croaked out as hoarsely as a raven, "Better, thank you. I've had a bad cold since the night of the party and have been shut up." 
    "I'm sorry to hear that. What do you for amusement?" 
    "Nothing. It's as dull as tombs up here." 
    "Don't you read?" 
    "Not much. Grandfather won't let me." 
    "Can't somebody read to you?" 
    "No one will." 
    "Have someone come and see you, then." 
    "There isn't anyone I'd like to see. Boys make such a row, and my head is weak." 
    "Isn't there some nice girl who'd read to you? Girls are quiet and like to play nurse." 
    "I don't know any." 
    "You know me," said Jo. She started to laugh but then stopped. 
    "So I do," cried Laurie. "Will you come up, please?" 
    "I'm not quiet or nice, but I'll come up if Mother will allow. I'll ask. Shut the window, like a good boy. You'll catch your death. Wait until I come." 
    With that, Jo shouldered her shovel like a musket and marched into the house. Laurie was in a rush of excitement at the idea of having company, and he flew about to get ready, tidying up his room, which in spite of half a dozen servants was anything but neat. 
    Presently there came a loud ring at the door and then a decided voice, asking for "Master Laurie." A surprised-looking servant came running up to announce a young lady. 
    "Show her up, please. It's Miss Jo," said Laurie, going to the door of his little parlor to meet Jo, who appeared looking rosy and quite at ease with a covered dish in her gloved hands. 
    "Here I am, bag and