He heard the voice of Laurence, who had taken possession of a heap of decayed branches which the gardener had lopped from the fruit-trees, and was building a little hut for his cousin Clara and himself.
"But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," cried cousin Clara, who was twice as old as little Alice.
Perhaps your cousin Laurence would like to hear them too.
Cousin Laurence was a boy of twelve, a bright scholar, in whom an early thoughtfulness and sensibility began to show themselves.
Laurence. Both stood in a suburb of the city, which was still countrylike, with groves and lawns, large gardens, and quiet streets.
She had long wanted to behold these hidden glories, and to know the Laurence boy, who looked as if he would like to be known, if he only knew how to begin.
"Theodore Laurence, you ought to be the happiest boy in the world," she added impressively.
Laurence offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy.
Laurence walked on, while Laurie went through a series of comic evolutions behind their backs, which nearly produced an explosion of laughter from Jo.
Laurence standing before the fire in the great drawing room, by Jo's attention was entirely absorbed by a grand piano, which stood open.
Laurence like to have Laurie play?" asked Jo, who was of an inquiring disposition.
If the Laurences had been what Jo called `prim and poky', she would not have got on at all, for such people always made her shy and awkward.