ics of any sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable,
half painful, came over her as she listened with a sense of being
turned adrift into time and space, like a young balloon out on a
holiday.

She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him
looking at her with the grimmest expression she had ever seen him wear.
He shook his head and beckoned her to come away, but she was fascinated
just then by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat,
trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after
they had annihilated all the old beliefs.

Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man and slow to offer his own opinions,
not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be
lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people,
attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit
his brows and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable young soul
would be led astray by the rockets, to find when the display was over
that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.

He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed to for an
opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and defended religion
with all the eloquence of truth--an eloquence which made his broken
English musical and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for
the wise men argued well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and
stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got
right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed
better than the new. God was not a blind force, and immortality was
not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid
ground under her feet again, and when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but
not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.

She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave the Professor
her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out
then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent.
She began to see that character is a better possession than money,
rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a
wise man has defined it to be, 'truth, reverence, and good will', then
her friend Friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.

This belief strengthened daily. She valued his esteem, she coveted his
respect, she wanted to be worthy of his friendship, and just when the
wish was sinc