Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the seventeenth chapter of Jo's Boys.

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Today we'll be continuing Joe's Boys by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 17 among the Maids.

Although this story is about Joe's Boys, her girls cannot be neglected because they held a high place in this little republic, and a special care was taken to fit them to play their parts worthily in the great republic, which offered them wider opportunities and more serious duties.

To many, the social influence was the better part of the training they received for education.

It's not confined to books, and the finest characters often graduate from no college, but make experience their master in life their book.

Others cared only for the mental culture and were in danger of over studying under the delusion which pervades New England that learning must be had at all costs.

Forgetting that health and real wisdom are better, a third class of ambitious girls hardly knew what they wanted, but were hungry for whatever could fit them to face the world and earn a living.

Being driven by necessity, the urgency of some half conscious talent, or the restlessness of strong young natures to break away from the narrow life which no longer satisfied at Plumfield all found something to help them.

For the growing institution had not yet made its rules as fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians, and believed so heartily in the right of all sexes, colors, creeds and ranks to education that there was room for everyone who knocked.

And a welcome to the shabby youths from Upcountry, the eager girls from the west, the awkward freedmen or woman from the south, or the wellborn student whose poverty made this college a possibility when other doors were barred.

There still was prejudice, ridicule, neglect in high places, and prophecies of failure to contend against.

But the faculty was composed of cheerful, hopeful men and women who had seen greater reform spring from smaller roots and after stormy seasons blossom beautifully to add prosperity and honor to the nation.

So they worked on steadily and bided their time, full of increasing faith in their attempt.

As year after year their numbers grew, their plan succeeded, and the sense of usefulness in this most vital of all professions blessed them with its sweet rewards.

Among the various customs which had very naturally sprung up was one especially useful and interesting to the girls, as the young women liked to be called.

It all grew out of the old sewing hours, still kept up by the three sisters, long after the little work boxes had expanded into big baskets full of household mending.

They were busy women, yet on Saturdays they tried to meet in one of the three sewing rooms, for even classic parnassus had its nook, where Mrs.

Amy often sat among her servants, teaching them to make and mend, thereby giving them a respect for economy.

Since the rich lady did not scorn to darn her hoes and sew on buttons in these household retreats with books and work and their daughters buy them, they read and sewed and talked in the sweet privacy that domestic women love and can make so helpful by a wise mixture of cooks and chemistry, table linen and theology, prosaic duties and good poetry.

Mrs.

Meg was the first to propose enlarging this little circle, for as she went her motherly rounds among the young women, she found a sad lack of order, skill and industry in this branch of education.

Latin, Greek, the higher mathematics and science of all sorts prospered finally.

But the dust gathered on the work baskets, prey to elbows went unheated, and some of the blue stockings sadly needed mending.

Anxious lest the usual sneer at learned women should apply to our girls.

She gently lured two or three of the most untidy to our house and made the hours so pleasant, the lesson so kindly that they took the hint or grateful for the favor and asked to come again.

Others soon begged to make the detested weekly duty lighter by joining the party, and soon it was a privilege so much desired that the old museum was refitted with sewing machines, tables, rocking chair and a cheerful fireplace so that rain or shine, the needles might go on undisturbed.

Here.

Mrs.

Meg was in her glory and stood wielding her big shears like a queen as she cut out white work, fitted dresses and directed Daisy, her special aid, about the trimming of hats and completing the lace and ribbon trifles, which add grace to the simplest costume and save poor or busy girls so much money and time.

Mrs.

Amy contributed taste and decided the great question of colors and complexions.

For few women, even the most learned, are without that desire to look well, which makes many a plain face comely, as well as many a pretty one ugly.

For want of skill and knowledge of the fitness of things.

She also took her turn to provide books for the readings, and as art was her forte, she gave them selections from Ruskin, Hamilton and Mrs.

Jamison, who is never old bess read these aloud as her contribution.

And Josie took her turn at the romances, poetry and plays her uncles recommended.

Mrs.

Jo gave little lectures on health, religion, politics, and the various questions in which all should be interested with copious extracts from Miss Cobb's duties of Women, miss Brackett's education of American Girls.

Mrs Duffy's.

No sex in education.

Mrs.

Wilson's, Dress Reform, and many of the other excellent books wise women write for their sisters now that they're waking up and asking, what shall we do?

It was curious to see the prejudices melt away, as ignorance was enlightened.

Indifference changed interest, an intelligent mind set thinking, while quick wits and lively tongues added spice to the discussions which inevitably followed.

So the feet that wore the neatly mended hose carried wiser heads than before.

The pretty gowns covered hearts warmed with higher purposes, and the hands that dropped the thimbles for pens, lexicons and celestial globes were better fitted for life's work, whether to rock cradles, tend the sick, or help on the great work of the world.

One day, a brisk discussion arose concerning careers for women.

Mrs.

Jo had read something on the subject and asked each of the dozen girls sitting about the room what she intended to do on leaving college.

The answers were as usual I shall teach, help Mother, study medicine, art, etc.

But nearly all ended with, Till I marry.

But if you don't marry, what then?

Asked Mrs.

Jo, feeling like a girl again as she listened to the answers and watched the thoughtful gay or eager faces.

The old maids, I suppose, horrid but inevitable since there are so many superfluous women, answered a lively lass, too pretty to fear, single blessedness unless she chose it.

It is well to consider that fact and fit yourselves to be useful, not superfluous women.

That class, by the way, is largely made up of widows, I find.

So don't consider it a slur on maidenhood at the comfort.

Old maids aren't sneered at half as much as they used to be since.

Some of them have grown famous and.

Proved that woman isn't a half, but a whole human being and can stand alone.

Don't like it.

All the same, we can't all be like Miss Nightingale, Miss Phelps and the rest.

So what can we do but sit.

In a corner and look on?

Asked the plain girl with a dissatisfied expression, cultivate cheerfulness and content if nothing else.

But there are so many little OD jobs waiting to be done that nobody need sit idle and look on unless she chooses, said Mrs.

Meg with a smile laying on the girl's head the new hat she had just trimmed.

Thank you very much.

Yes, Mrs.

Brooke, I see it's a little job, but it makes me neat.

And happy and grateful, she added, looking up with brighter eyes as she accepted the labor of love and the lesson as sweetly as they were given.

One of the best and most beloved women I know has been doing OD jobs for the Lord for years and will keep at it till her dear hands are folded in her coffin.

All sorts of things she does picks up neglected children and puts them in safe homes.

Saves lost girls, nurses, poor women in trouble, sews, knits, trots, begs works for the poor day after day, with no reward but the thanks of the needy, the love and honor of the rich who make Saint Matilda their almonder.

That's a life worth living.

And I think that quiet little woman will get a higher seat in heaven than many of those of whom the world has heard.

I know it's lovely, Mrs.

Bear, but.

It'S dull for young folks.

We do want a little fun before.

We buckle too, said a Western girl with a wide awake face.

Have your fun, my dear, but if you must earn your bread, try to make it sweet with cheerfulness, not bitter with a daily regret that it isn't cake.

I used to think mine was a very hard fate because I had to amuse a somewhat fretful old lady but.

The books I read in that lonely.

Library have been of immense use to me since, and the dear old soul bequeathed me Plumfield for my cheerful service and affectionate care.

I didn't deserve it, but I did used to try to be jolly and kind and get as much honey out of duty as I could, thanks to my dear mother's help and advice.

Gracious.

If I could earn a place like this I'd sing all day and be an angel.

But you have to take your chance and get nothing for your pains.

Perhaps I never do, said the Westerner, who had a hard time with small means and large aspirations.

Don't do it for the reward, but be sure it will come, though not in the shape you expect.

I worked hard for fame and money one winter, but I got neither and was much disappointed.

A year afterwards I found I had earned two prizes skill with my pen and Professor Bear.

Mrs.

Jo's laugh was echoed blithely by the girls who liked to have these conversations enlivened by illustrations from life.

You're a very lucky woman, began the.

Discontented damsel whose soul soared above new hats, welcome as they were but did not quite know where to steer yet.

Her name used to be Luckless Joe and she never had what she wanted till she had given up hoping for it, said Mrs Meg.

I'll give up hoping, then, right away, and see if my wishes will come.

I only want to help my folks.

And get a good school.

Take this proverb for your guide.

Get the dis staff ready and the Lord will send the flax, answered Mrs Jo.

We'd better all do that if we're to be Spencers, said the pretty one.

Adding gaily, I think I should like.

It on the whole.

They are so independent.

My Aunt Jenny can do just what she likes and ask no one's leave.

But Ma has to consult PA about everything.

Yes, I'll give you my chance, Sally.

And be a super flume, as Mr pluck says.

You'll be one of the first to go into bondage.

See if you aren't much obliged all the same.

Well, I'll get my dis staff ready and take whatever flax the fates send.

Single or double, twisted as the powers please.

That is the right spirit, Nellie.

Keep it up and see how happy life will be with a brave heart, a willing hand and plenty to do.

No one objects to plenty of domestic work or fashionable pleasure, I find.

But the minute we begin to study, people tell us we can't bear it and warn us to be very careful.

I've tried the other things and got so tired I came to college.

My people predict nervous exhaustion and an early death.

Do you think there's any danger?

Asked a stately girl with an anxious glance at the blooming face reflected in the mirror opposite.

Are you stronger or weaker than when you came two years ago, Miss Winthrop?

Stronger in body and much happier in mind.

I think I was dying of NUI.

But the doctors called it inherited delicacy of constitution.

That is why Mama is so anxious and I wish not to go too fast.

Don't worry, my dear.

That active brain of yours was starving for good food.

It has plenty now, and plain living.

Suits you better than luxury and dissipation.

It is all nonsense about girls not being able to study as well as boys.

Neither can bear cramming, but with proper care, both are better for it.

So enjoy the life your instinct led you to and we will prove that Wise Head work is a better cure for that sort of delicacy than tonics and novels on the sofa where far too many of our girls go to wreck nowadays.

They burn the candle at both ends, and when they break down, they blame the books, not the balls.

Dr NAN was telling me about a patient of hers who thought she had heart complaint till NAN made her take off her corsets, stopped her coffee and dancing all night and made her eat, sleep, walk and live regularly for a time and now she's a brilliant cure.

Common sense versus custom, NAN said.

I've had no headaches since I came here and can do twice as much studying as I did at home.

It's the air, I think, and the.

Fun of going ahead of the boys.

Said another girl, tapping her big forehead with her thimble, as if the lively brain inside was in good working order and enjoyed the daily gymnastics she gave it.

Quality, not quantity, wins the day, you know.

Our brains may be smaller, but I don't see that they fall short of.

What is required of them.

And if I'm not mistaken, the largest headed man in our class is the.

Dullest, said Nellie, with a solemn air which produced a gale of merriment.

For all knew that the young goliath she mentioned had been metaphorically slain by this quick witted David on many a battlefield, to the great disgust of himself and his mates.

Mrs.

Brooke, do I gauge on the.

Right or the wrong side?

Asked the best Greek scholar of her class, eyeing a black silk apron with a lost expression.

The right, Miss Pearson.

And leave a space between the tux.

It looks prettier, so I'll never make.

Another, but it will save my dresses from ink stains, so I'm glad I've got it.

And the erudite Miss Pearson labored on finding it a harder task than any Greek root she ever dug up.

We paper stainers must learn how to make shields or we are lost.

I'll give you a pattern of the.

Pinafore I used to wear in my.

Blood and thunder days, as we call them, said Mrs.

Jo, trying to remember what became of the old tin kitchen which used to hold her works.

Speaking of writers reminds me that my ambition is to be a George Eliot and thrill the world.

It must be so splendid to know that one has such power and to hear people own that one possesses a masculine intellect.

I don't care for most women's novels, but hers are immense.

Don't you think so, Mrs.

Bear?

Asked the girl with the big forehead and torn braid on her skirt.

Yes, but they don't thrill me as little Charlote Bronte's books do.

The brain is there, but the heart seems left out.

I admire but I don't love George Elliott, and her life is far sadder to me than Miss Bronte's because in spite of the genius, love and fame, she missed the light without which no soul is truly great, good or happy.

Yes, m, I know.

But still it's so romantic and sort of new and mysterious.

And she was great in one sense.

Her nerves and dyspepsia do rather destroy the illusion.

But I adore famous people and mean to go and see all I can scare up in London.

Someday you will find some of the best of them.

Busy about?

Just the work I recommend to you.

And if you want to see a great lady, I'll tell you that Mrs.

Lawrence means to bring one here today.

Lady Abercrombie is lunching with her, and after seeing the collegeist, a call on us.

She especially wanted to see our sewing school, as she's interested in things of this sort and gets them up at home.

Bless me.

I always imagine lords and ladies did nothing but ride round in a coach.

In six, go to balls and be.

Presented to the Queen in cocked hats and trains and feathers.

Exclaimed an artless young person from the wilds of Maine, whither an illustrated paper occasionally wandered.

Not at all.

Lord Abercrombie is over here studying up our American prison system, and my lady is busy with the schools.

Both very high born, but the simplest and most sensible people I've met this long time.

They're neither of them young nor handsome and dress plainly, so don't expect anything splendid.

Mr.

Lawrence was telling me last night about a friend of his who met.

My lord in the hall, and owing.

To a rough great coat and a red face, mistook him for a coachman and said, now, my man, what do you want here?

Lord Abercrombie mildly mentioned who he was and that he had come to dinner.

And the poor host was much afflicted, saying afterward, why didn't he wear his stars and garters?

Then a fellow would know he was a lord.

The girls laughed again, and the General Russell betrayed that each was pranking a bit before the titled guest arrived.

Even Mrs.

Jo settled her collar, and Mrs.

Meg felt if her cap was right, while Beth shook out her curls and Josie boldly consulted the glass.

For they were women, in spite of philosophy and philanthropy.

Shall we all rise?

Asked one girl, deeply impressed by the impending honor.

It would be courteous.

Shall we shake hands?

No.

I'll present you en masse, and your pleasant faces will be introduction enough.

I wish I'd worn my best dress.

Ought to have told us, whispered Sally.

Won't my folks be surprised when I tell them we have a real lady to call on us?

Said another.

Don't look as if you'd never seen a gentle woman before, Millie.

We're not all fresh from the wilderness, added the stately damsel, who, having mayflower ancestors, felt that she was the equal of all the crowned heads in Europe.

Hush, he's coming.

Oh, my heart, what a bonnet.

Cried the gay girl in a stage whisper.

And every eye was demurely fixed upon the busy hands as the door opened to admit Mrs.

Lawrence and her guest.

It was rather a shock to find, after the general introduction was over, that this daughter of a hundred earls was a stout lady in a plain gown and a rather weather beaten bonnet, with a bag of papers in one hand and a notebook in the other.

But the face was full of benevolence, the sonorous voice very kind, the genial manners very winning, and about the whole person an indescribable air of high breeding which made beauty of no consequence, costume soon forgotten and the moment memorable to the keen eyed girls whom nothing escaped.

A little chat about the rise, growth and success of this particular class, and then Mrs.

Jo led the conversation to the English lady's work, anxious to show her pupils how rank, dignifies, labor and charity blesses wealth.

It was good for these girls to hear of the evening schools supported and taught by women whom they knew and honored of Miss Cobb's eloquent protest winning the protection of the law for abused wives.

Mrs.

Butler, saving the lost Mrs.

Taylor, who devoted one room in her historic house to a library for the servants.

Lord Shaftsbury, busy with his new tenement houses in the slums of London of prison reforms and all the brave work being done in God's name by the rich and great for the humble and the poor.

It impressed them more than many quiet home lectures would have done and roused an ambition to help when their time should come, while knowing that even in glorious America there is still plenty to be done before she is what she should be truly just and free and great.

They were also quick to see that Lady Abercrombie treated all there as her equals, from stately, Mrs.

Lawrence to little Josie, taking notes of everything and privately resolving to have some thick sold English booths as soon as possible.

No one would have guessed that she had a big house in London, a castle in Wales, and a grand country seat in Scotland as she spoke of Parnassus with admiration, Plumfield as a dear old home and the college as an honor to all concerned in it at that.

Of course, every head went up a little, and when my lady left, every hand was ready for the hearty shake the noble Englishwoman gave them with words they long remembered.

I am very well pleased to see this much neglected branch of a woman's.

Education so well conducted here.

And I have to thank my friend, Mrs.

Lawrence for one of the most.

Charming pictures I've seen in America.

Penelope among her maids.

A group of smiling faces watched the stout boots trudge away.

Respectful glances followed the shabby bonnet till it was out of sight.

And the girls felt a truer respect for their titled guest than if she had come in the coach in six with all her diamonds on.

I feel better about the OD jobs now.

I only wish I could do them as well as Lady Abercrombie does, said one.

I think my stars and my buttonholes were nice, for she looked at them and said, quite woman like, upon my word.

Added another feeling that her gingham gown had come to honor.

Her manners were as sweet and kind as Mrs.

Brooks.

Not a bit stiff or condescending as I expected.

I see now what you meant, Mrs.

Bear, when you said once that well bred people were the same all the world over.

Mrs.

Meg bowed her thanks for the compliment, and Mrs.

Bear said, I know them when I see them, but never shall be a model of deportment myself.

I'm glad you enjoyed the little visit.

Now, if you young people don't want England to get ahead of us, in many ways you must bestur yourselves and keep abreast, for our sisters are in earnest, you see.

And don't waste time worrying about their.

Sphere, but make it wherever duty calls them.

We will do our best, ma'am, answered.

The girls heartily, and trooped away with their work baskets, feeling that though they might never be Harriet Martin nose, Elizabeth Brownings or George Elliott's, they might become noble, useful, and independent women and earn for themselves some sweet title from the grateful lips of the poor, better than any a queen could bestow.

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 Joe's boys.

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