and talk to you in your room."

"Won't make any difference," said Dan, trying to speak defiantly, but
failing as he looked at Mr. Bhaer's sorrowful face; and, taking his
words for a dismissal, Dan left the room as if he found it impossible to
stay.

It would have done him good if he had stayed; for the boys talked the
matter over with such sincere regret, and pity, and wonder, it might
have touched and won him to ask pardon. No one was glad to find that it
was he, not even Nat; for, spite of all his faults, and they were many,
every one liked Dan now, because under his rough exterior lay some of
the manly virtues which we most admire and love. Mrs. Jo had been the
chief prop, as well as cultivator, of Dan; and she took it sadly to
heart that her last and most interesting boy had turned out so ill. The
theft was bad, but the lying about it, and allowing another to suffer
so much from an unjust suspicion was worse; and most discouraging of all
was the attempt to restore the money in an underhand way, for it showed
not only a want of courage, but a power of deceit that boded ill for the
future. Still more trying was his steady refusal to talk of the matter,
to ask pardon, or express any remorse. Days passed; and he went about
his lessons and his work, silent, grim, and unrepentant. As if taking
warning by their treatment of Nat, he asked no sympathy of any one,
rejected the advances of the boys, and spent his leisure hours roaming
about the fields and woods, trying to find playmates in the birds and
beasts, and succeeding better than most boys would have done, because he
knew and loved them so well.

"If this goes on much longer, I'm afraid he will run away again, for he
is too young to stand a life like this," said Mr. Bhaer, quite dejected
at the failure of all his efforts.

"A little while ago I should have been quite sure that nothing would
tempt him away, but now I am ready of any thing, he is so changed,"
answered poor Mrs. Jo, who mourned over her boy and could not be
comforted, because he shunned her more than any one else, and only
looked at her with the half-fierce, half-imploring eyes of a wild animal
caught in a trap, when she tried to talk to him alone.

Nat followed him about like a shadow, and Dan did not repulse him as
rudely as he did others, but said, in his blunt way, "You are all right;
don't worry about me. I can stand it better than you did."

"But I don't like to have you all alone," Nat would