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Today we'll be continuing Little Women by Louisa May Alcott 29 Calls come, Joe.

It's time.

For what?

You don't mean to say You've forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me today.

I've done a good many ration foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day when a single one upsets me for a week.

Yes, you did.

It was a bargain between us.

I was to finish the crown of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me and return our neighbor's visits.

If it was fair, that was in the bond.

And I stand to the letter of my bond shylock.

There's a pile of clowns in the east, and it's not fair.

And I don't go.

Now that's shirking.

It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain, and you pride yourself on keeping promises.

So be honorable, come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months.

At that minute, Jo was particularly absorbed in dressmaking, for she was Manchua Maker General to the family and took a special credit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen.

It was very provoking to be arrested in the act of a first trying on and ordered out to make calls in her best array on a warm July day.

She hated calls of the formal sort and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain, bribe or promise.

In the present instance, there was no escape.

Having clashed her scissors rebelliously while protesting that she smelt thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready.

Joe March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint.

You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope, cried Amy, surveying her with amazement.

Why not?

I'm neat and cool and comfortable.

Quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day.

If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them.

You can dress for both and be as elegant as you please.

It pays for you to be fine.

It doesn't for me, and fur belows only worry me.

Oh, dear.

Sighed Amy.

Now she's in a contrary fit and will drive me distracted before I can get her properly ready.

I'm sure it's no pleasure to me to go today, but it's a debt we owe society, and there's no one to pay it but you and me.

I'll do anything for you, Joe, if you'll only dress yourself nicely and come and help me do the civil.

You can talk so well, look so aristocratic in your best things and behave so beautifully.

If you try that, I'm proud of you.

I'm afraid to go alone.

Do come and take care of me.

You're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle your crosshold sister in that way.

The idea of my being aristocratic and well bred and your being afraid to go anywhere alone I don't know which is the most absurd.

Well, I'll go if I must and do my best.

You shall be commander of the expedition, and I'll obey blindly.

Will that satisfy you?

Said Joe, with a sudden change from perversity to lamb like submission.

You're a perfect cherub.

Now put on all your best things, and I'll tell you how to behave at each place so that you'll make a good impression.

I want people to like you, and they would if you'd only try to be a little more agreeable.

Do your hair the pretty way and put the pink rose in your bonnet.

It's becoming, and you look too sober in your plain suit.

Take your light gloves and the embroidered handkerchief.

We'll stop at Meg's and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can have my dove colored one.

While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Joe obeyed them.

Not without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled into her new organee, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet strings in an irreproachable bow, wrestled viciously with pins as she put on her collar.

Wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out the handkerchief whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the present mission was to her feelings.

And when she had squeezed her hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel as the last touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of countenance, saying meekly, I'm perfectly miserable, but if you consider me presentable, I die happy.

You are highly satisfactory.

Turn slowly round and let me get a careful view.

Joe revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then fell back with her head on one side, observing graciously.

Yes, you'll do.

Your head is all I could ask for.

That white bonnet with the rose is quite ravishing.

Hold back your shoulders and carry your hands easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch.

There's one thing you can do well, Joe, that is wear a shawl.

I can't, but it's very nice to see you.

And I'm so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one.

It's simple but handsome.

And those folds over the arm are really artistic.

Is the point of my mantle in the middle.

And have I looped my dress evenly?

I like to show my boots, for my feet are pretty, though my nose isn't.

You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever, said Joe, looking through her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the gold hair.

Am I to drag my best dress through the dust or loop it up?

Please, ma'am.

Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house.

The sleeping style suits you best.

And you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully.

You haven't half buttoned one cuff.

Do it at once.

You'll never look finished if you're not careful about the little details, for they make up the pleasing hole.

Jo sighed and proceeded to burst the buttons of her glove in doing up her cuff.

But at last both were ready and sailed away looking as pretty as pictures.

Hannah said as she hung out of the upper window to watch them.

Now, Joe, dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so I want you to put on your best apartment.

Don't make any of your abrupt remarks or do anything OD.

Will you just be calm, cool and quiet.

That's safe and lady like.

And you can easily do it for 15 minutes, said Amy as they approached the first place, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg with a baby on each arm.

Let me see.

Calm, cool and quiet.

Yes, I think I can promise that I've played the part of a prim young lady on the stage and I'll try it off.

My powers are great, as you shall see, so be easy in your mind, my child.

Amy looked relieved, but naughty.

Joe took her at her word, for during the first call she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snowbank and as silent as a sphinx.

In vain, Mrs.

Chester alluded to her charming novel, and the Mrs.

Chester introduced parties, picnics and the opera in the fashions.

Each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a demure yes or no.

With the chill on in vain, Amy telegraphed the word talk, tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with her foot.

Joe sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment like Maude's face Isoly, regular, splendidly null.

What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is.

The unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies as the door closed upon their guests.

Joe laughed noiselessly all through the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions and very naturally laid the blame upon Joe.

How could you mistake me so?

I merely meant you to be properly dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect stock in stone.

Try to be social at the Lambs, gossip as other girls do, and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up they move in the best society are valuable persons for us to know, and I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there for anything.

I'll be agreeable.

I'll gossip and giggle and have horrors and raptures over any trifle you like.

I'd rather enjoy this.

And now I'll imitate what is called a charming girl.

I can do it, for I have May Chester as a model, and I'll improve upon her.

See if the Lambs don't say what a lively, nice creature that Joe March is.

Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Joe turned freakish, there was no knowing where she would stop.

Amy's face was a study when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing room, kiss all the young ladies with a fusion beam, graciously upon the young gentleman, and join in the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder.

Amy was taken possession of by Mrs.

Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia's last attack, while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her.

So situated, she was powerless to check Joe, who seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief and talked away as volubly as the old lady.

A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hear what was going on, for broken sentences filled her with alarm.

Round eyes and uplifted hands tormented her with curiosity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun.

1 may imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort of conversation.

She rides splendidly.

Who taught her?

No one.

She used to practice mounting, holding the reins and sitting straight on an old saddle in a tree.

Now she rides anything, for she doesn't know what fear is, and the stable man lets her have horses cheap because she trains them to carry ladies so well.

She has such a passion for it.

I often tell her if everything else fails, she can be a horsebreaker and get her living.

So at this awful speech, Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her special aversion.

But what could she do?

For the old lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done, Joe was off again, making more droll revelations and committing still more fearful blunders.

Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind and the other so bulky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start.

Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it?

Which one did she choose?

Asked one of the laughing gentlemen who enjoyed the subject.

None of them.

She heard of a young horse at the farmhouse over the river, and though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try because he was handsome and spirited.

Her struggles were really pathetic.

There was no one to bring the horse to the saddle.

So she took the saddle to the horse.

My dear creature, she actually rode it over the river, put it on her head and marched up to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man.

Did she ride the horse?

Of course she did, and had a capital time.

I expected to see her brought home in fragments, but she managed imperfectly and was the life of the party well.

I call that plucky.

A young Mr.

Lamb turned an approving glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the girl look so red and uncomfortable.

She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after when a sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress.

One of the young ladies asked Joe where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to the picnic.

And stupid Joe, instead of mentioning the place where it was bought two years ago, musk needs answer with unnecessary frankness.

Oh, Amy painted it.

You can't buy those soft shades, so we paint ours any color we like.

It's a great comfort to have an artistic sister.

Isn't that an original idea?

Cried Miss Lamb, who found Joe great fun.

That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances.

There's nothing the child can't do.

Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for Sally's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones, the loveliest shade of sky blue you ever saw.

And they looked exactly like satin, added Joe with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments.

That exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her card case at her.

We read a story of yours the other day and enjoyed it very much, observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.

Any mention of her works always had a bad effect upon Joe, who either grew rigid and looked offended or changed the subject with a brusque remark, as now sorry you could find nothing better to read.

I write that rubbish because it sells and ordinary people like it.

Are you going to New York this winter?

As Miss Lamb had enjoyed the story, this speech was not exactly grateful or complimentary the minute it was made.

Joe saw her mistake, but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half finished sentences in their mouths.

Amy, we must go.

Goodbye, dear.

Do come and see us.

We are pining for a visit.

I don't dare to ask you, Mr lamb, but if you should come, I don't think I should have the heart to send you away.

Joe said this was such a droll imitation of May Chester's gushing style that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time.

Didn't I do that well?

Asked Joe with a satisfied air as they walked away.

Nothing could have been worse, was Amy's crushing reply.

What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle and the hats and boots and all the rest of it?

Why, it's funny and amuses people.

They know we are poor, so it's no use pretending that we have grooms.

Buy three or four hats a season and have things as easy and fine as they do.

You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts and expose our poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way.

You haven't a bit of proper pride and never will.

Learn when to hold your tongue and when to speak, said Amy despairingly.

Poor Joe looked abashed and silently chafed the end of her nose with a stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors.

How shall I behave here?

She asked as they approached the third mansion.

Just as you please.

I wash my hands of you, was Amy's short answer.

Then I'll enjoy myself.

The boys are at home and we'll have a comfortable time.

Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance has a bad effect upon my constitution, returned Jo Gruffly, being disturbed by her failures to soothe an enthusiastic welcome from three boys and several pretty children speedily soothed her ruffled feelings and leaving Amy to entertain the hostess and Mr Tudor, who happened to be calling.

Likewise, Joe devoted herself to the young folks and found the change refreshing.

She listened to college stories with deep interest, caressed pointers and poodles without a murmur.

Agreed heartily that Tom Brown was a brick, regardless of the improper form of praise.

And when one lad proposed a visit to his turtle tank, she went with an alacrity, which caused Mama to smile upon her as that motherly lady settled the cap, which was left in a ruinous condition by filial hugs bear like, but affectionate and dearer to her than the most faultless quafure from the hands of an inspired French woman.

Leaving her sister to her own devices, amy proceeded to enjoy herself to her heart's content.

Mr Tudor's uncle had married an English lady who was third cousin to a living lord, and Amy regarded the whole family with great respect.

For in spite of her American birth and breeding, she possessed that reverence for titles which haunts the best of us, that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sun.

In a ferment at the coming of a royal yellow haired laddie some years ago, and which still has something to do with the love the young country bears the old like that of a big son for an imperious little mother who held him while she could and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled.

But even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time.

And when the proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society and looked about for Joe fervently, hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March.

It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad, for Jo sat on the grass with an encampment of boys about her and a dirty footed dog reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress as she related one of Lori's pranks to her admiring audience.

One small child was poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol, a second was eating gingerbread over Jo's best bonnet and a third playing ball with her gloves.

But all were enjoying themselves, and when Jo collected her damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her, begging her to come again.

It was such fun to hear about Lori's larks.

Capital boys, aren't they?

I feel quite young and brisk again after that, said Joe, strolling along with her hands behind her, partly from habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol.

Why do you always avoid Mr Tudor?

Asked Amy, wisely refraining from any comment upon Joe's dilapidated appearance.

Don't like him.

He puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worries his father and doesn't speak respectfully of his mother.

Lori says he is fast and I don't consider him a desirable acquaintance, so I let him alone.

You might treat him civilly, at least.

You gave him a cool nod.

And just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way to Tommy Chamberlain, whose father keeps a grocery store.

If you had just reversed the nod and the bow, it would have been right, said Amy reprovingly.

No, it wouldn't, returned perverse Joe.

I neither like respect nor admire Tudor though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece was third cousin to a lord.

Tommy is poor and bashful and good and very clever.

I think well of him, and like to show that I do, for he is a gentleman in spite of the brown paper parcels.

It's no use trying to argue with you, began Amy.

Not the least, my dear, interrupted Joe.

So let us look amiable and drop a card here, as the kings are evidently out, for which I'm deeply grateful.

The family card case having done its duty, the girls walked on, and Joe uttered another Thanksgiving on reaching the fifth house and being told that the young ladies were engaged.

Now let us go home and never mind Aunt March today.

We can run down there anytime and it's really a pity to trail through the dust in our best bibs and tuckers when we are tired and cross.

Speak for yourself, if you please.

Aunt likes to have us pay her the compliment of coming in style and making a formal call.

It's a little thing to do, but it gives her pleasure, and I don't believe it will hurt your things half so much as letting dirty dogs and clumping boys spoil them.

Stoop down and let me take the crumbs off of your bonnet.

What a good girl you are, Amy, said Joe, with a repentant glance from her own damaged costume to that of her sister, which was fresh and spotless.

Still, I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to please people as it is for you.

I think of them, but it takes too much time to do them.

So I wait for a chance to confer a great favor and let the small ones slip.

But they tell best in the end, I fancy.

Amy smiled and was mullified at once, saying with a maternal air, women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones for they have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive.

If you'd remember that and practice it, you'd be better liked than I am because there's more of you.

I'm a crotchety old thing and always shall be, but I'm willing to own that you're right.

Only it's easier for me to risk my life for a person than to be pleasant to him when I don't feel like it.

It's a great misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, isn't it?

It's a greater not to be able to hide them.

I don't mind saying that I don't approve of Tudor any more than you do but I'm not called upon to tell him so.

Neither are you.

And there is no use in making yourself disagreeable, because he is.

But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove of young men, and how can they do it except by their manners?

Preaching does not do any good, as I know to my sorrow, since I've had Teddy to manage.

But there are many little ways in which I can influence him without a word, and I say we ought to do it to others if we can.

Teddy is a remarkable boy and can't be taken as a sample of other boys, said Amy in a tone of solemn conviction which would have convulsed the remarkable boy if he had heard it.

If we were bells or women of wealth in position, we might do something, perhaps.

But for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don't approve of them, and smile upon another set because we do, wouldn't have a particle of effect, and we should only be considered OD and puritanical.

So we are to countenance things and people which we detest merely because we are not bells and millionaires, are we?

That's a nice sort of morality.

I can't argue about it.

I only know that it's the way of the world, and people who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their pains.

I don't like reformers, and I hope you will never try to be one.

I do like them, and I shall be one if I can.

For in spite of the laughing, the world would never get on without them.

We can't agree about that, for you belong to the old set, and I to the new.

You'll get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it.

I should rather enjoy the brick bats and hooting, I think.

Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry, Aunt, with your new ideas.

I'll try not to, but I'm always possessed to burst out with some particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment before her.

It's my doom, and I can't help it.

I found Aunt Carol with the old lady, both absorbed in some very interesting subject, but they dropped it as the girls came in with a conscious look, which betrayed that they had been talking about their nieces.

Joe was not in a good humor, and the perverse fit returned.

But Amy, who had virtuously done her duty, kept her temper and pleased everybody, was in a most angelic frame of mind.

This amiable spirit was felt at once, and both the aunts, my dearedred, her affectionately looking what they afterward said emphatically, that child improves every day.

Are you going to help about the fair, dear?

Asked Mrs.

Carroll as Amy sat down beside her with the confiding air.

Elderly people like so well in the young.

Yes, Aunt.

Mrs.

Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give.

I'm not put in Joe decidedly.

I hate to be patronized, and the Chesters think it's a great favor to allow us to help with their highly connected fare.

I wonder you consented, Amy.

They only want you to work.

I am willing to work it's for the freedmen as well as the Chesters, and I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun.

Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant, quite right and proper.

I like your grateful spirit, my dear.

It's a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts.

Some do not, and that is trying, observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Joe, who sat apart, rocking herself with a somewhat morose expression.

If Joe had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one of them, she would have turned dove like in a minute.

But unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts and cannot see what goes on in the midst of our friends.

Better for us that we cannot as a general thing, but now and then it would be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper.

By her next speech, Joe deprived herself of several years of pleasure and received a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue.

I don't like favors.

They oppress and make me feel like a slave.

I'd rather do everything for myself and be perfectly independent.

Ahem.

Coughed Aunt Carol softly with a look at Aunt March.

I told you so, said Aunt March with a decided nod to Aunt Carol mercifully.

Unconscious of what she had done.

Jo sat with her nose in the air and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting.

Do you speak French, dear?

Asked Mrs.

Carroll, laying her hand on Amy's.

Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk to me as often as I like, replied Amy with a grateful look, which caused the old lady to smile affably.

How are you about languages?

Asked Mrs.

Carol of Joe.

Don't know a word.

I'm very stupid about studying anything.

Can't bear french.

It's such a slippery, silly sort of language, was the brusque reply.

Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy, you are quite strong and well now, dear.

I believe eyes don't trouble you anymore, do they?

Not at all.

Thank you, ma'am.

I'm very well and mean to do great things next winter so that I may be ready for Rome whenever that joyful time arrives.

Good girl.

You deserve to go, and I'm sure you will someday, said Aunt March with an approving pat on the head as Amy picked up her ball for her cross patch.

Draw the latch, sit by the fire, and spin, squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of her chair, to peep into Joe's face with such a comical air of impertinent inquiry that it was impossible to help.

Laughing most observant bird, said the old lady.

Come and take a walk, my dear, cried Polly, hopping toward the china closet with a look suggestive of lump sugar.

Thank you.

I will come.

Amy and Joe brought the visit to an end, feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a bad effect upon her constitution.

She shook hands in a gentlemanly.

Manner.

But Amy kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed, leaving behind them the impression of shadow and sunshine.

Which impression caused Aunt March to say as they vanished, you'd better do it, Mary.

I'll supply the money.

And Aunt Carol to reply, decidedly, I certainly will, if her father and mother consent.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Little Women.

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