“They are the only well-bred people I have ever known, if I except Barker and Agnes,” Jo said, after a long silence, “and though I should like to visit them often, I am afraid I can never get the courage to go there again. They have undoubtedly a poor opinion of me, for they can never understand how a young man of my age could be so uncouth, but other families of good manners will perhaps come to Fairview, and I intend to take lessons from Barker, and cultivate their acquaintance. I have great respect for polished people, but I never admired a quality in others that I did not lack it myself, therefore I fear I shall make but poor progress. But this is a small matter compared with learning the mill business. Perhaps I had better renounce society until I am the best miller on the river.” “It won’t be long, Jo,” I answered, and feeling that what I said was true. “Barker says he can teach me all he knows in half a year. After that, I will experiment for myself, and perhaps I may be able to discover something which will repay him for his kindness to me. If I am apt at anything--which I sometimes doubt--it is with machinery, and there is so little of it at Barker’s that I hope I will be able to master it all in a few months. I am familiar with all of it now, and I shall work very hard until I can take it all apart, and put it together again better than it was before.” We were both quiet a long while, busy with our own thoughts, until Jo said:-- “I am going away to-morrow. When are you coming to see me?” I had it in my mind to say, “On Tuesday,” but as that would be the next day after his departure, and impossible, I said instead that I would come as soon as I could; certainly not later than that day a week. “I shall be very busy, and lonely, too, and I hope you will come often. You haven’t been out of my sight more than a day at a time since you were born, and you are the only brother I ever had. I don’t intend to come here much, and as you enjoy visiting at Barker’s we will arrange it in that way. They will perhaps tolerate me here once in a long while, to see if I have cut off any of my fingers in the cog-wheels, but for no other reason. I have been an intruder ever since I can remember, and lonely and homeless.” I felt that this was true, unjust and cruel as it was, and could say nothing, although Jo spoke of it in a husky voice, as though it would be a relief to cry if it were not unmanly. “Your mother has been kinder to me than any of them, if I except Agnes, who is the friend of every one, but her health has always been poor, and she has a great deal to do. She often comes into my room at night, if she suspects that I am not well, and asks if she can do anything for me; but I know she is always tired, and I feel more like helping her than allowing her to help me. I shall always remember her gratefully for it, and believe that were she less unhappy herself we would have been a different family.”