Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the nineteenth chapter of Little Women.

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Today we'll be continuing Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, 19 Amy's Will while these things were happening at home, Amy was having hard times at Aunt March's.

She felt her exile deeply, and for the first time in her life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home.

Aunt March never petted anyone.

She did not approve of it, but she meant to be kind, for the well behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children.

She didn't think proper to confess it.

She really did her best to make Amy happy, but dear me, what mistakes she made.

Some old people keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, can sympathize with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at home, and can hide wise lessons under pleasant plays, giving and receiving friendship in the sweetest way.

But Aunt March had not this gift, and she worried Amy very much with her rules and orders, her prim ways and long prosy talks.

Finding the child more docile and amiable than her sister, the old lady felt it her duty to try and counteract, as far as possible, the bad effects of home, freedom and indulgence.

So she took Amy in hand and taught her as she herself had been taught 60 years ago, a process which carried dismay to Amy's soul and made her feel like a fly in the web of a very strict spider.

She had to wash the cups every morning and polish up the old fashioned spoons, the fat silver teapot, and the glasses till they shone.

Then she must thus the room, and what a trying job that was.

Not a speck escaped Aunt March's eye, and all the furniture had claw legs and much carving, which was never dusted to suit.

Then Polly must be fed the lap dog combed and a dozen trips upstairs and down to get things or deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame and seldom left her big chair after these tiresome labors.

She must do her lessons, which was a daily trial of every virtue she possessed.

Then she was allowed 1 hour for exercise or play, and didn't she enjoy it?

Lori came every day and wheedled Aunt March till Amy was allowed to go out with him when they walked and rode and had capital times.

After dinner, she had to read aloud and sit still while the old lady slept, which she usually did for an hour as she dropped off over the first page.

Then patchwork or towels appeared, and Amy sewed with outward meekness and inward rebellion till dusk, when she was allowed to amuse herself as she liked till tea time.

The evenings were the worst of all, for Aunt March felt to telling long stories about her youth, which were so unutterably dull that Amy was always ready to go to bed, intending to cry over her hard fate, but usually going to sleep before she had squeezed out more than a tear or two.

If it had not been for Lori and old Esther, the maid, she felt that she never could have got through that dreadful time.

The parrot alone was enough to drive her distracted, for he soon felt that she did not admire him and revenged himself by being as mischievous as possible.

He pulled her hair whenever she came near him, upset his bread and milk to plague her when she had newly cleaned his cage, made mop bark by pecking at him while Madam Dozed called her names before company and behaved in all respects like a reprehensible old bird.

And she could not endure the dog, a fat cross beast who snarled and yelt at her when she made his toilet, and who lay on his back with all his legs in the air, and a most idiotic expression of countenance when he wanted something to eat, which was about a dozen times a day.

The cook was bad tempered, the old coachman deaf, and Esther the only one who ever took any notice of the young lady.

Esther was a French woman who had lived with Madame, as she called her mistress for many years, and who rather tyrannized over the old lady, who could not get along without her.

Her real name was Estelle, but Aunt March ordered her to change it, and she obeyed on condition that she was never asked to change her religion.

She took a fancy to Mademoiselle and amused her very much with odd stories of her life in France.

When Amy sat with her while she got up Madame's Laces, she also allowed her to roam about the great house and examine the curious and pretty things stored away in the big wardrobes in the ancient chests.

For Aunt March hoarded like a magpie, amy's chief delight was an Indian cabinet full of queer drawers, little pigeon holes in secret places, in which were kept all sorts of ornaments, some precious, some merely curious, all more or less antique.

To examine and arrange these things gave Amy great satisfaction, especially the jewel cases in which unvelvet cushions reposed the ornaments which had adorned a bell 40 years ago.

There was the garnet set which Aunt March wore when she came out, the pearls her father gave her on her wedding day, her lover's diamonds, the jet morning rings and pins, the queer lockets with portraits of dead friends and weeping willows made of hair.

Inside the baby bracelets, her one little daughter had worn uncle March's big watch with the red seals so many childish hands had played with.

And in a box all by itself lay Aunt March's wedding ring, too small now for her fat finger, but put carefully away like the most precious jewel of them all.

Which would Mademoiselle choose if she had her will?

Asked Esther, who always sat near to watch over and lock up the valuables.

I like the diamonds best, but there's.

No necklace among them, and I'm fond of necklaces.

They are so becoming.

I should choose this, if I might, replied Amy, looking with great admiration at a string of gold and ebony beads from which hung a heavy cross of the same.

I, too, covet that, but not as a ah, no.

To me it is a rosary, and.

As such I should use it like a good Catholic, said Esther, eyeing the handsome thing wistfully.

Is it meant to use, as you.

Use the string of good smelling wooden.

Beads hanging over your glass?

Asked Amy.

Truly?

Yes.

To pray with it would be pleasing.

To the saints if one used so fine a rosary as this, instead of wearing it as a vain bijou.

You seem to take a great deal.

Of comfort in your prayers, Esther, and.

Always come down looking quiet and satisfied.

I wish I could.

If Mademoiselle was a Catholic, she would find true comfort, but as that is not to be, it would be well if you went apart each day to meditate and pray, as did the good mistress whom I served before madam.

She had a little chapel, and in it found solacement for much trouble.

Would it be right for me to do so too?

Asked Amy, who in her loneliness felt the need of help of some sort, and found that she was apt to forget her little book now that Beth was not there to remind her of it.

It would be excellent and charming, and I shall gladly arrange the little dressing room for you if you like it.

Say nothing to Madame, but when she sleeps, go you and sit alone a while to think good thoughts and pray the dear God to preserve your sister.

Esther was truly pious and quite sincere in her advice, for she had an affectionate heart and felt much for the sisters in their anxiety.

Amy liked the idea and gave relieve to arrange the light closet next to her room, hoping it would do her good.

I wish I knew where all these pretty things would go when Aunt March.

Dies, she said as she slowly replaced the shining rosary and shut the jewel.

Cases one by one to you and your sisters.

I know it.

Madame confides in me.

I witnessed her will, and it is.

To be so, whispered Esther, smiling.

How nice.

But I wish she'd let us have them now.

Procrastination is not agreeable, observed Amy, taking a last look at the diamonds.

It is too soon yet for the.

Young ladies to wear these things.

The first one who is offianced will have the pearls.

Madame has said it, and I have.

A fancy that the little turquoise ring will be given to you when you.

Go, for Madame approves your good behavior in charming manners.

Do you think so?

Oh, I'll be a lamb if I can only have that lovely ring.

It's ever so much prettier than Kitty Bryant's.

I do like Aunt March, after all.

And Amy tried on the blue ring with a delighted face and a firm resolve to earn it.

From that day she was a model of obedience, and the old lady complacently admired the success of her training.

Esther fitted up the closet with a little table, placed a footstool before it, and over it a picture taken from one of the shut up rooms.

She thought it was of no great value, but being appropriate, she borrowed it well, knowing that Madame would never know it, nor care if she did.

It was, however, a very valuable copy of one of the famous pictures of the world, and Amy's beauty loving eyes were never tired of looking up at the sweet face of the divine Mother, while tender thoughts of her own were busy at her heart.

On the table she laid her little testament and hymn book, kept a vase always full of the best flowers Lori brought her, and came every day to sit alone thinking good thoughts and praying the dear God to preserve her sister.

Esther had given her a rosary of black beads with a silver cross, but Amy hung it up and did not use it, feeling doubtful as to its fitness for Protestant prayers.

The little girl was very sincere in all this for being left alone outside the safe home nest.

She felt the need of some kind hand to hold by so sorely that she instinctively turned to the strong and tender friend whose fatherly love most closely surrounds his little children.

She missed her mother's help to understand and rule herself, but having been taught where to look, she did her best to find the way and walk in it confidingly.

But Amy was a young pilgrim, and just now her burden seemed very heavy.

She tried to forget herself, to keep cheerful and be satisfied with doing right, though no one saw or praised her for it.

In her first effort, being very, very good, she decided to make her will as Aunt March had done, so that if she did fall ill and die, her possessions might be justly and generously divided.

It cost her a peng even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were as precious as the old lady's jewels.

During one of her play hours, she wrote out the important document as well as she could, with some help from Esther as to certain legal terms, and when the good natured French woman had signed her name, amy felt relieved and laid it by to show Lori, whom she wanted as a second witness.

As it was a rainy day, she went upstairs to amuse herself in one of the large chambers and took Polly with her for company.

In this room there was a wardrobe full of old fashioned costumes with which.

Esther allowed her to play, and it.

Was her favorite amusement to array herself in the faded brocades and prayed up.

And down before the long mirror making.

Stately courtesies and sweeping her train about with a rustle which delighted her ears.

So busy was she on this day that she did not hear Lori's ring nor see his face peeping in at her as she gravely promenaded to and fro, flirting her fan and tossing her head on which she wore a great pink turban contrasting oddly with her blue brocade dress and yellow quilted petticoat.

She was obliged to walk carefully, for she had on high heeled shoes, and as Lori told Joe afterward, it was a comical sight to see her mince along in her gay suit with Polly siddling and bridling just behind her, imitating her as well as he could, and occasionally stopping to laugh or exclaim.

Ain't we fine?

Get along, you fright.

Hold your tongue.

Kiss me, dear.

Ha, ha.

Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment lest it should offend Her Majesty, lori tapped and was graciously received.

Sit down and rest while I put these things away.

Then I want to consult you about.

A very serious matter, said Amy, when she had shown her splendor and driven Polly into a corner.

That bird is the trial of my.

Life, she continued, removing the pink mountain from her head while Lori seated himself astride of a chair.

Yesterday, when Aunt was asleep and I was trying to be as still as a mouse.

Polly began to squall and flap about.

In his cage, so I went to let him out and found a big spider there.

I poked it out, and it ran under the bookcase.

Polly marched straight after it, stooped down and peeped under the bookcase, saying in.

His funny way, with a c*** of.

His eye, come out and take a walk, my dear.

I couldn't help laughing, which made Paul swear, and Aunt woke up and scolded us both.

Did the spider accept the old fellow's invitation?

Asked Lori.

Yawning.

Yes, out it came, and away ran Polly, frightened to death, and scrambled up on Aunt's chair, calling out Catcher.

Catcher.

Catcher.

As I chased the spider.

That's a lie.

Oh, lor.

Cried the parrot, pecking at Lori's toes.

I'd wring your neck if you were mine, you old torment.

Cried Lori, shaking his fist at the.

Bird, who put his head on one side and gravely croaked, ali Lior, bless your buttons, dear.

Now I'm ready, said Amy, shutting the.

Wardrobe and taking a paper out of her pocket.

I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is legal and right.

I felt that I ought to do it, for life is uncertain, and I.

Don'T want any ill filling over my tomb.

Lori bit his lips and, turning a little from the pensive speaker, read the following document with praise worthy gravity, considering.

The spelling my last will and testament, i, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, do give and bequeath all my earthly property.

This to wit, namely to my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps and works of art, including frames.

Also my $100 to do what he likes with.

To my mother all my clothes except the blue apron with pockets, also my likeness and my medal.

With much love to my dear sister Margaret, I give my turquoise ring if I get it.

Also my green box with the doves on it, also my piece of real lace for her neck and my sketch of her as a memorial of her little girl.

To Joe I leave my breast pin, the one mended with ceiling wax.

Also my bronze ink stand she lost the COVID and my most precious plaster rabbit, because I am sorry I burnt up her story to Beth.

If she lives after me, I give my dolls in the little bureau, my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can wear them, being thin when she gets well, and I herewith.

Also leave her my regret that I ever made fun of old Joanna.

To my friend and neighbor, Theodore Lawrence, I bequeathed my paper Marchet portfolio my clay model of a horse, though he did say it hadn't any neck.

Also, in return for his great kindness in the hour of affliction, any one of my artistic works he likes.

Notre Dame is the best.

To our venerable benefactor, Mr.

Lawrence, I leave my purple box with a looking glass in the COVID which will be nice for his pens and remind him of the departed girl who thanks him for his favors to her family, especially Beth.

I wish my favorite playmate, Kitty Bryant to have the blue silk apron and my gold bead ring.

With a kiss to Hannah, I give the bandbox she wanted and all the patchwork I leave, hoping she'll remember me when it you see.

And now, having disposed of my most valuable property, I hope all will be satisfied and not blame the dead.

I forgive everyone and trust we may all meet when the trump shall sound.

Amen.

To this will and testament, I set my hand and seal on this 20th day of November annie Domino, 1861.

Amy Curtis March last name was written.

In pencil and Amy explained that he.

Was to rewrite it in ink and seal it up for her properly.

What put it into your head?

Did anyone tell you about Beth's giving away her things?

Asked Lori soberly, and Amy laid a bit of red tape with ceiling wax, a taper and a standish before him, she explained, and then asked anxiously, what about Bath?

I'm sorry I spoke, but as I.

Did, I'll tell you.

She fell so ill one day that she told Joe she wanted to give her piano to Meg, her cats to you, and the poor old doll to Joe, who would love it for her sake.

She was sorry she had so little to give and she left locks of hair to the rest of us and her best loved grandpa.

She never thought of a will ori was signing and sealing as he spoke and did not look up till a great tear dropped onto the paper.

Amy's face was full of trouble, but.

She only said, don't people put sort.

Of postscripts to their wills sometimes?

Yes.

Codocils, they call them.

Put one in mind, then, that I.

Wish all my curls cut off and.

Given rounds to my friends.

I forgot it, but I want it done, though it will spoil my looks.

Lori added it, smiling at Amy's last and greatest sacrifice.

Then he amused her for an hour and was much interested in all her trials.

But when he came to go, Amy held him back to whisper with trembling lips, is there really any danger about Beth?

I'm afraid there is, but we must hope for the best, so don't cry, dear.

And Lori put his arm about her with a brotherly gesture, which was very comforting.

When he had gone, she went to her little chapel and sitting in the.

Twilight, prayed for Beth with streaming tears.

And an aching heart, feeling that a.

Million turquoise rings would not console her for the loss of her gentle little sister.

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

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