Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the first chapter of Little Men.

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Today we will be beginning little Men by Luisa May Alcott chapter One nat, please, sir, is this Plumfield asked a ragged boy if the man who opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.

Yes.

Who sent you?

Mr.

Lawrence.

I've got a letter for the lady.

All right.

Go up to the house and give it to her.

She'll see to you, little chap.

The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on feeling much cheered by the words.

Through the soft spring rain that fell on sprouting grass and budding trees, nat saw a large square house before him, a hospitable looking house with an old fashioned porch, wide steps and lights shining in many windows.

Neither curtains nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer, and pausing a moment before he rang, nat saw many little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant of young voices, and felt that it was hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within could be for a homeless little chap like him.

I hope the lady will see me, he thought, and gave a timid rap with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin's head.

A rosy faced servant maid opened the door and smiled as she took the letter which he silently offered.

She seemed used to receiving strange boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall and said with a nod, sit there and drip on the mat.

A bit while I take this into.

Mrs.

Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited and stared about him curiously enjoying the view, yet glad to do so.

Unobserved in the dusky recess by the door, the house seemed swarming with boys who were beguiling the rainy twilight with all sorts of amusements.

There were boys everywhere, upstairs and downstairs, and in the lady's chamber, apparently for various open doors showed pleasant groups of big boys, little boys and middle sized boys in all stages of evening relaxation, not to say effervescence.

Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms for desks maps.

Blackboards and books were scattered about.

An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket ground with such animation that their boots waved in the air.

A tall youth was practicing on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him.

Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing now and then to get their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard.

In the room on the left, a long supper table was seen set forth with great pitches of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls.

A flavor of toast was in the air.

Also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.

The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry.

One landing was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down the banisters to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to their limbs.

So observed did Nat become in this exciting race that he ventured farther and farther out of his corner.

And when one very lively boy came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself but fell off the banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one.

Rendered nearly as hard as a cannonball by eleven years of constant bumping.

Not forgot himself and ran up to the fallen rider expecting to find him half dead.

The boy, however, only winked rapidly for a second, then lay calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised hello.

Hello, returned Nat, not knowing what else to say and thinking that form of reply both brief and easy.

Are you the new boy?

Asked the recumbent youth without stirring.

Don't know yet.

What's your name?

Nat Blake.

Mine's Tommy Bangs.

Come up and have a go, will you?

And Tommy got up upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties of hospitality.

Guess I won't till I see whether I'm going to stay or not?

Returned Nat, feeling the desire to stay, increase every moment.

I say, Demi, here's a new one.

Come and see to him.

And a lively Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.

At his call.

The boy, reading on the stairs, looked up with a pair of big brown eyes, and after an instant's pause, as if a little shy, he put the book under his arm and came soberly down to greet the newcomer, who found something very attractive in the pleasant face of this slender, mild eyed boy.

Have you seen Aunt Joe?

He asked, as if that was some sort of important ceremony.

I haven't seen anybody yet but you boys.

I'm waiting, answered Nat.

Did Uncle Lori send you?

Proceeded demi politely, but gravely.

Mr.

Lawrence did.

He is Uncle Lori, and he always sends nice boys.

Nat looked gratified at the remark and smiled in a way that made his thin face very pleasant.

He did not know what to say next, so the two stood staring at one another in friendly silence till the little girl came up with her doll in her arms.

She was very like Demi, only not so tall and had a rounder rosier face and blue eyes.

This is my sister Daisy, announced Demi, as if presenting a rare and precious creature.

The children nodded to one another, and the little girl's face dimpled with pleasure as she said affably, I hope you'll stay.

We have such good times here, don't we, Demi?

Of course we do.

That's what Aunt Joe has Plumfield for.

It seems a very nice place indeed, observed Nat, feeling that he must respond to these amiable young persons.

It's the nicest place in the world, isn't it, Demi?

Said Daisy, who evidently regarded her brother as authority on all subjects.

No, I think Greenland, where the icebergs and seals are, is more interesting.

But I'm fond of Plumfield.

And it is a very nice place to be in, returned Demi, who was interested just now in a book on Greenland.

He was about to offer to show Nat the pictures and explain them when the servant returned, saying with a nod toward the parlor door, all right, you are to stop.

I'm glad.

Now come to Aunt Joe.

And Daisy took him by the hand with a pretty protecting air, which made Nat feel at home at once.

Demi returned to his beloved book while his sister led the newcomer into a back room where a stout gentleman was frolicking with two little boys on the sofa and a thin lady was just finishing the letter, which she seemed to have been rereading.

Here he is, Auntie.

Cried Daisy.

So this is my new boy.

I'm glad to see you, my dear, and hope you'll be happy here, said the lady, drawing him to her and stroking back the hair from his forehead with a kind hand and a motherly look, which made Nat's lonely heart yearn toward her.

She was not at all handsome, but she had a merry sort of face that never seemed to have forgotten certain childish ways and looks any more than her voice and manner had.

And these things hard to describe, but very plain to see and feel, made her a genial, comfortable kind of person, easy to get on with and generally jolly, as boys would say.

She saw the little tremble of Nat's lips as she smoothed his hair, and her keen eyes grew softer, but she only drew the shabby figure nearer and said laughing, I am Mother Bear.

That gentleman is Father Bear, and these are the two little Bears.

Come here, boys, and see Nat.

The three wrestlers obeyed at once, and the stout man with a chubby child on each shoulder came up to welcome the new boy.

Rob and Teddy merely grinned at him, but Mr.

Bear shook hands, and pointing to a low chair near the fire, said in a cordial voice, there is a place already for thee, my son.

Sit down and dry thy wet feet at once.

Wet?

So they are, my dear.

Off with your shoes this minute, and I'll have some dry things ready for you in a jiffy.

Cried Mrs.

Bear, bustling about so energetically that Nat found himself in the cozy little chair with dry socks and warm slippers on his feet before he would have had time to say Jack Robinson if he had wanted to try.

He said, thank you, ma'am, instead, and said it so gratefully that Mrs.

Baer's eyes grew soft again and said something merry because she felt so tender, which was a way she had.

There are Tommy Bangs's slippers, but he never will remember to put them on in the house, so he shall not have them.

They are too big.

But that's all the better.

You can't run away from us so fast as if they fitted.

I don't want to run away, ma'am.

And Nat spread his grimy little hands before the comfortable blaze with a long sigh of satisfaction.

That's good.

Now I'm going to toast you well and try to get rid of that ugly cough.

How long have you had it, dear?

Asked Mrs.

Bear, as she rummaged in her big basket for a strip of flannel.

All winter I got cold and it wouldn't get better somehow.

No wonder living in that damp cellar with hardly a rag to his poor dear back, said Mrs.

Bear in a low tone to her husband, who was looking at the boy with the skilful pair of eyes that marked the thin temples and feverish lips as well as the hoarse voice and frequent fits of coughing that shook the bent shoulders under the patch jacket.

Robin, my man, chot up to nursery and tell her to give thee the cough bottle and the liniment, said Mr.

Bear, after his eyes had exchanged telegrams with his wife's.

Nat looked a little anxious at the preparations, but forgot his fears in a hearty laugh when Mrs.

Bear whispered to him with a droll look here, my rogue teddy, try to cough.

The syrup I'm going to give you is honey in it and he wants some.

Little Ted was red in the face with his exertions by the time the bottle came and was allowed to suck the spoon after Nat had manfully taken a dose and had the bit of flannel put about his throat.

These first steps toward a cure were hardly completed when a great bell rang and allowed tramping through the hall, announced supper bashful.

Nat quaked at the thought of meeting many strange boys, but Mrs.

Bear held out her hand to him and Rob said patronizingly, don't be afraid.

I'll take care of you.

Twelve boys, six on his side, stood behind their chairs prancing with impatience to begin, while the tall, flute playing youth was trying to curb their ardyure.

But no one sat down till Mrs.

Bear was in her place behind the teapot with Teddy on her left and Nat on her right.

This is our new boy, Nat Blake.

After supper you can say how do you do?

Gently, boys, gently.

As she spoke, everyone stared at Nat and then whisked into their seats, trying to be orderly and failing utterly.

The Bears did their best to have the lads behave well at mealtimes and generally succeeded pretty well, for their rules were few and sensible, and the boys, knowing that they tried to make things easy and happy, did their best to obey.

There are times when hungry boys could not be repressed without real cruelty, and Saturday evening after a half holiday was one of those times.

Dear little souls, do let them have one day in which they can howl and racket and frolic to their heart's content.

A holiday isn't a holiday without plenty of freedom and fun, and they shall have full swing once a week, Mrs.

Bear used to say, when prim people wondered why banister, sliding, pillow fights and all manner of jovial games were allowed under the once decorous roof of Plumfield.

It did seem at times as if the aforesaid roof was in danger flying off, but it never did, for a word from Father.

Bear could at any time produce a lull, and the lads had learned that liberty must not be abused.

So in spite of many dark predictions, the school flourished, and manners and morals were insinuated without the pupils exactly knowing how it was done.

Nat found himself very well off behind the tall pitchers, with Tommy bangs just around the corner and Mrs.

Bear close by to fill up plate and mug as fast as he could empty them.

Who is that boy next?

The girl down at the other end, whispered Nat to his young neighbor under the COVID of a general laugh.

Nat's demi brooke.

Mr.

Bear is his uncle.

What a queer name.

His real name is John, but they call him Demi John because his father is John, too.

That's a joke, don't you see?

Said Tommy Kindly explaining.

Nat did not see, but politely smiled and asked with interest, isn't he a very nice boy?

I bet you he is.

Knows lots and reads like anything.

Who's the fat one next to him?

Oh, that's stuffy.

Cole his name is George, but we call him Stuffy because he eats so much.

The Little Fellow next father Bear is his boy Rob.

And then there's Big Franz, his nephew.

He teaches some and kind of sees to us.

He plays the flute, doesn't he?

Ask Nat, as Tommy rendered himself speechless by putting a whole baked apple into his mouth at one blow.

Tommy nodded and said sooner than one would have imagined possible under the circumstances.

Oh, doni though.

And we dance sometimes and do gymnastics to music.

I like a drum myself and mean to learn as soon as ever I can.

I like a fiddle best.

I can play one too, said Nat, getting confidential on this attractive subject.

Can you?

And Tommy stared over the rim of his mug with round eyes full of interest.

Mr.

Bear's got an old fiddle and I'll let you play on it if you want to.

Could I?

Oh, I would like it ever so much.

You see, I used to go round fiddling with my father and another man till he died.

Wasn't that fun?

Cried Tommy, much impressed.

No, it was horrid.

So cold in winter and hot in summer and I got tired and they were crossed sometimes and I didn't get enough to eat.

Nat paused to take a generous bite of gingerbread, as if to assure himself that the hard times were over.

And then he added regretfully, but I did love my little fiddle and I miss it.

Nicco took it away when father died and wouldn't have me any longer because I was sick.

You belong to the band if you play good.

See if you don't.

Do you have a band here?

Nuts eyes sparkled.

Guess we do.

A jolly band, all boys, and they have concerts and things.

You just see what happens tomorrow night.

After this pleasantly exciting remark, Tommy returned to his supper and Nat sank into a blissful reverie over his full plate.

Mrs.

Bear had heard all they said, while apparently absorbed in filling mugs and overseeing little Ted, who was so sleepy that he put his spoon in his eye, nodded like a rosy poppy, and finally fell fast asleep with his cheek pillowed on a soft bun.

Mrs.

Bear had put Nat next to Tommy because that rolly poly boy had a frank and social way with him, very attractive to shy persons.

Nat felt this and had made several small confidences during supper, which gave Mrs.

Bear the key to the new boy's character better than if she had talked to him herself.

In the letter which Mr.

Lawrence had sent with Nat, he had said, dear Joe, here's a case after your own heart.

This poor lad is an orphan now, sick and friendless.

He had been a street musician and I found him in a cellar, mourning for his dead father and his lost violin.

I think there's something in him, and have a fancy that between us we may give this little man a lift.

You cure his overtasked body, Fritz, help his neglected mind, and when he's ready, I'll see if he's a genius, or only a boy with a talent which may earn his bread for him.

Give him a trial for the sake of your own boy, Teddy.

Of course we will.

Cried Mrs Bear as she read the letter.

And when she saw Nat, she felt at once that whether he was a genius or not, here was a lonely, sick boy, who needed just what she loved to give a home and motherly care.

Both she and Mr Bear observed him quietly, and in spite of ragged clothes, awkward manners and a dirty face, they saw much about Nat that pleased them.

He was a thin, pale boy of twelve, with blue eyes and a good forehead under the rough, neglected hair an anxious, scared face at times as if he expected hard words or blows, and a sensitive mouth that trembled when a kind glance fell on him.

All a gentle speech called up a look of gratitude.

Very sweet to see, lest the poor deer, he shall fiddle all day long if he likes, said Mrs Bear to herself, as she saw the eager, happy expression on his face when Tommy talked of the band.

So after supper, when the lads walked into the schoolroom for more hijinks, mrs Joe appeared with a violin in her hand, and after a word with her husband, went to Nat, who sat in a corner watching the scene with intense interest.

Now, my lad, give us a little tune.

We want a violin in our band and I think you will do it nicely.

She expected that he would hesitate, but he seized the old fiddle at once, and handled it with such loving care it was plain to see that music was his passion.

I'll do the best I can, ma'am, was all he said, and then drew the bow across the strings, as if eager to hear the dear notes again.

There was a great clatter in the room, but as if deaf to any sounds but those he made.

Nat played softly to himself, forgetting everything in his delight.

It was only a simple Negro melody, such as street musicians play, but it caught the ears of the boys at once and silenced them till they stood listening with surprise and pleasure.

Gradually they got nearer and nearer, and Mr.

Bear came up to watch the boy for as if he was in his element now Nat played away and never minded anyone while his eyes shone, his cheeks reddened and his thidden fingers flew as he hugged the old fiddle and made it speak to all their hearts the language that he loved.

A hearty round of applause rewarded him better than a shower of pennies when he stopped and glanced about him as if to say, I've done my best.

Please like it.

I say you do that first rate, cried Tommy, who considered Nat his protege.

You shall be the first fiddle in my band, added Franz.

With an approving smile.

Mrs.

Bear whispered to her husband, teddy is right.

There's something in the child.

And Mr.

Bear nodded his head emphatically as he clapped Nat on the shoulder, saying heartily, you play well, my son.

Come now and play something which we can sing.

It was the proudest, happiest minute of the poor boy's life, when he was led to the place of honor by the piano, and the lads gathered round, never heeding his poor clothes, but eyeing him respectfully and waiting eagerly to hear him play again.

They chose a song he knew, and after one or two false starts they got going, and violin flutes and piano led a chorus of boyish voices that made the old roof ring again.

It was too much for Nat, more feeble than he knew, and as the final shout died away, his face began to work.

He dropped the fiddle and turning to the wall, sobbed like a little child.

My dear, what is it?

Asked Mrs.

Bear, who had been singing with all her might and trying to keep little Rob from beating time with his boots.

You are all so kind, and it's so beautiful.

I can't help it, sobbed Nat, coughing till he was breathless.

Come with me, dear.

You must go to bed and rest.

You are worn out, and this is too noisy a place for you, whispered Mrs.

Bear, and took him away to her own parlor, where she let him cry himself quiet.

Then she won him to tell her all his troubles and listened to the little story with tears in her own eyes, but was not a new one to her.

My child, you've got a father and a mother now, and this is home.

Don't think of those sad times anymore, but get well and happy, and be sure you shall never suffer again if we can help it.

This place is made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in and to learn how to help themselves and be useful men.

I hope you shall have as much music as you want, only you must get strong first.

Now come up to nursery and have a bath and then go to bed, and tomorrow we will lay some nice little plans together.

Nut held her hand fast in his butted.

Not a word to say.

And let his grateful eyes speak for him as Mrs Bear led him up to a big room where they found a stout German woman with a face so round and cheery that it looked like a sort of sun, with the wide frill of her cap for rays.

This is nursery hummel, and she will give you a nice bath and cut your hair and make you all comfy.

As Rob says, that's the bathroom in there, and on Saturday nights we scrub all the little lads first and pack them away in bed before the big ones get through singing.

Now then, Rob, in with you.

As she talked, Mrs Bear had whipped off Rob's clothes and popped him into a long bathtub.

In the little room opening into the nursery, there were two tubs besides baths, basins, douche pipes and all manner of contrivances for cleanliness.

Nat was soon luxuriating in the other bath, and while Simmering there, he watched the performances of the two women who scrubbed clean nightgowned and bundled into bed four or five small boys who, of course, cut up all sorts of capers during the operation and kept everyone in a gale of merriment till they were extinguished in their beds.

By the time Nat was washed and done up in a blanket by the fire while NURSEY cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived and were shut into the bathroom, where they made as much splashing and noise as a school of young whales at play.

Nat had better sleep here so that if his cough troubles him in the night, you can see that he takes a good draught of flaxseed tea, said Mrs.

Bear, who was flying about like a distracted hen with a large brood of lively ducklings.

NURSEY approved the plan, finished Nat off with the flannel nightgown, a drink of something warm and sweet, and then tucked him into one of the three little beds.

Standing in the room, rayleigh, looking like a contented mummy and feeling that nothing more in the way of luxury could be offered him.

Cleanliness in itself was a new and delightful sensation.

Flannel gowns were unknown comforts in his world.

Sips of good stuff soothed his cough as pleasantly as kind words did his lonely heart, and the feeling that somebody cared for him made that plain room seem a sort of heaven to the homeless child.

It was like a cozy dream, and he often shut his eyes to see if it would not vanish.

When he opened them again.

It was too pleasant to let him sleep, and he could not have done so if he had tried, for in a few minutes one of the peculiar institutions of Plumfield was revealed to his astonished but appreciative eyes.

A momentary lull in the aquatic exercises was followed by the sudden appearance of pillows flying in all directions, hurled by white goblins who came rioting out of their beds.

The battle raged in several rooms all down the upper hall, and even surged at intervals into the nursery when some hard pressed warrior took refuge there.

No one seemed to mind this explosion in the least.

No one forbade it or even looked surprised.

NURSEY went on hanging up towels, and Mrs.

Bear laid out clean clothes as calmly as if the most perfect order reigned.

Nay, she even chased one daring boy out of the room and fired after him the pillow he had slightly thrown at her.

Won't they hurt him?

Asked Nat, who lay laughing with all his might.

Oh, dear, no.

We always allow one pillow fight Saturday night.

The cases are changed tomorrow, and it gets up a glow after the boys'baths, so I rather like it myself, said Mrs.

Bear, busy again among her dozen pairs of socks.

What a very nice school this is, observed Nat in a burst of admiration.

It's an odd one.

Laughed Mrs.

Bear.

You see, we don't believe in making children miserable by too many rules and too much study.

I forbade nightgown parties at first, but, bless you, it was of no use.

I could no more keep those boys in their beds than so many jacks in the box.

So I made an agreement with them.

I was to allow a 15 minutes pillow fight every Saturday night, and they promised to go properly to bed every other night.

I tried it, and it worked.

Well, if they don't keep their word, no frolic.

If they do, I just turn the glasses round, put the lamps in safe places, and let them rampage as much as they like.

It's a beautiful plan, said Nat, feeling that he should like to join in the fray, but not venturing to propose it the first night.

So he lay enjoying the spectacle, which certainly was a lively one.

Tommy Bangs led the assailing party, and Demi defended his own room with a dogged courage.

Find the sea collecting pillows behind him as fast as they were thrown, till the besiegers were out of ammunition, when they would charge upon him in a body and recover their arms.

A few slight accidents occurred, but nobody minded and gave and took, sounding thwax with perfect good humor, while pillows flew like big snowflakes, till Mrs.

Bear looked at her watch and called out, time is up, boys.

Into bed.

Every man jack or pay the forfeit.

What is the forfeit?

Asked Nat, sitting up in his eagerness to know what happened to those wretches who disobeyed this most peculiar but public spirited schoolmam.

Lose their fun next time, answered Mrs.

Baer.

I give them five minutes to settle down, then put out the lights and expect order.

They are honorable lads, and they keep their word.

That was evident, for the battle ended as abruptly as it began, a parting shot or two, a final cheer as Demi fired the 7th pillow at the retiring foe.

A few challenges for next time, then order prevailed, and nothing but an occasional giggle or a suppressed whisper broke the quiet which followed the Saturday night frolic as Mother Bear kissed her new boy and left him to happy dreams of life.

At Plumfield.

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 Men.

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Take it word for word, line by line, one bite at a time.

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