They had laughed over that last word as if the idea it suggested was a most preposterous one , but they had held to their resolve , and whenever they could get on without help they did so , and no one interfered , for Mrs. March had advised the plan . So Meg wrestled alone with the refractory sweetmeats all that hot summer day , and at five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvey kitchen , wrung her bedaubed hands , lifted up her voice and wept . Now , in the first flush of the new life , she had often said , `` My husband shall always feel free to bring a friend home whenever he likes . I shall always be prepared . There shall be no flurry , no scolding , no discomfort , but a neat house , a cheerful wife , and a good dinner . John , dear , never stop to ask my leave , invite whom you please , and be sure of a welcome from me . '' How charming that was , to be sure ! John quite glowed with pride to hear her say it , and felt what a blessed thing it was to have a superior wife . But , although they had had company from time to time , it never happened to be unexpected , and Meg had never had an opportunity to distinguish herself till now . It always happens so in this vale of tears , there is an inevitability about such things which we can only wonder at , deplore , and bear as we best can . If John had not forgotten all about the jelly , it really would have been unpardonable in him to choose that day , of all the days in the year , to bring a friend home to dinner unexpectedly . Congratulating himself that a handsome repast had been ordered that morning , feeling sure that it would be ready to the minute , and indulging in pleasant anticipations of the charming effect it would produce , when his pretty wife came running out to meet him , he escorted his friend to his mansion , with the irrepressible satisfaction of a young host and husband . It is a world of disappointments , as John discovered when he reached the Dovecote . The front door usually stood hospitably open . Now it was not only shut , but locked , and yesterday 's mud still adorned the steps . The parlor windows were closed and curtained , no picture of the pretty wife sewing on the piazza , in white , with a distracting little bow in her hair , or a bright-eyed hostess , smiling a shy welcome as she greeted her guest . Nothing of the sort , for not a soul appeared but a sanginary-looking boy asleep under the current bushes . `` I 'm afraid something has happened . Step into the garden , Scott , while I look up Mrs. Brooke , '' said John , alarmed at the silence and solitude . Round the house he hurried , led by a pungent smell of burned sugar , and Mr. Scott strolled after him , with a queer look on his face .
He paused discreetly at a distance when XXXXX disappeared , but he could both see and hear , and being a bachelor , enjoyed the prospect mightily .
Brooke Dovecote John Meg Scott first morning repast sat sweetmeats