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

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Check out our website, or join our Facebook Group!

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our YouTube!

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

San the book and let's see what we can find.

Take it chapter by chapter, one bite at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb.

Take it word for word, like by line.

One bite at a time.

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

If you want to know what's coming next and vote on upcoming books, sign up for our newsletter@byetatimebooks.com.

You'll also find our new T shirts in the shop, including podcast shirts and quote shirts from your favorite classic novels.

Be sure to follow my show on your favorite podcast platform so you get all the new episodes.

You can find most of our links in the show notes, but also our website, Bytetimebooks.com includes all of the links for our show, including to our patreon to support the show, and YouTube, where we have special behind the narration of the episodes.

We're part of the bite at a Time books Productions network.

If you'd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic authors to write their novels and what was going on in the world at the time, check out the Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story podcast.

Wherever you listen to podcasts, please note while we try to keep the text as close to the original as possible.

Some words have been changed to honor.

The marginalized communities who've identified the words as harmful and to stay in alignment with Bite at a Time book's brand values.

Today we'll be continuing Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.

Seven amy's Valley of Humiliation.

That boy is a perfect cyclops, isn't he?

Said Amy one day as Lori clattered by on horseback with a flourish of his whip as he passed.

How dare you say so.

When he's got both his eyes.

And very handsome ones they are too, cried Joe, who resented any sliding remarks about her friend.

I didn't say anything about his eyes, and I don't see why you need fire up when I admire his writing.

Oh my goodness, that little goose means a centaur.

And she called him a cyclops.

Exclaimed Joe with a burst of laughter.

You needn't be so rude.

It's only a lapse of Lingy, as Mr.

Davis says, retorted Amy, finishing Joe with her Latin.

I just wish I had a little of the money Laurie spends on that horse, she added, as if to herself, yet hoping her sisters would hear.

Why?

Asked Meg kindly, for Joe had gone off in another laugh at Amy's second blunder.

I need it so much.

I'm dreadfully in debt, and it won't be my turn to have the rag money for a month.

In debt, amy, what do you mean?

And Meg looked sober.

Why, I owe at least a dozen pickled limes, and I can't pay them, you know, till I have money for marmi forbade my having anything charged at the shop.

Tell me all about it.

Are limes the fashion now.

I used to be pricking bits of rubber to make balls and Meg tried to keep her countenance.

Amy looked so grave and important.

Why, you see, the girls are always buying them and unless you want to be thought mean, you must do it too.

It's nothing but limes now, for everyone is sucking them in their desks in school time and trading them off for pencils, bead rings, paper dolls or something else at recess.

If one girl likes another, she gives her a lime.

If she's mad with her, she eats one before her face and don't offer even a suck.

They treat by turns and I've had ever so many but haven't returned them and I aught for they are debts of honor, you know.

How much will pay them off and restore your credit?

Asked Meg, taking out her purse.

A quarter would more than do it and leave a few cents over for a treat for you.

Don't you like limes?

Not much.

You may have my share.

Here's the money.

Make it last as long as you can, for it isn't very plenty, you know.

Oh, thank you.

It must be so nice to have pocket money.

I'll have a grand feast where I haven't tasted a lime this week.

I felt delicate about taking any, as I couldn't return them and I'm actually suffering for one next day.

Amy was rather late at school but could not resist the temptation of displaying with pardonable pride a moist brown paper parcel before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk.

During the next few minutes the rumor that Amy March had got 24 delicious limes she ate one on the way and was going to treat circulated through her set and the attentions of her friends became quite overwhelming.

Katie Brown invited her to her next party on the spot.

Mary Kingsley insisted on lending her her watch till recess and Jenny Snow, a satirical young lady who had basically twitted Amy upon her limeless state, promptly buried the hatchet and offered to furnish answers to certain appalling sums.

But Amy had not forgotten Miss Snow's cutting remarks about some persons whose noses were not too flat to smell other people's limes and stuck up people who were not too proud to ask for them.

And she instantly crushed that Snow girl's hopes by the withering telegram.

You needn't be so polite all of a sudden for you won't get any.

A distinguished personage happened to visit the school that morning and Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise which honor to her foe wrinkled in the soul of Miss Snow and caused Miss March to assume the heirs of a studious young peacock.

But alas, alas, pride goes before a fall and the revengeful Snow turned the tables with disastrous success.

No sooner had the guest paid the usual stale compliments and bowed himself out than Jenny, under the pretense of asking an important question, informed Mr.

Davis, the teacher that Amy March had pickled limes in her desk.

Now, Mr.

Davis had declared limes a contraband article and solemnly vowed to publicly feral the first person who was found breaking the law.

This much enduring man had succeeded in banishing chewing gum after a long and stormy war, had made a bonfire of the confiscated novels and newspapers, had suppressed a private post office, had forbidden distortions of the face, nicknames and caricatures, and done all that one man could do to keep half a hundred rebellious girls in order.

Boys are trying enough to human patience, goodness knows, but girls are infinitely more so, especially to nervous gentlemen with tyranical tempers and no more talent for teaching than Dr.

Blimber.

Mr.

Davis knew any quantity of Greek, Latin, algebra and ologies of all sorts, so he was called a fine teacher, and manners, morals, feelings and examples were not considered of any particular importance.

It was a most unfortunate moment for denouncing Amy, and Jenny knew it.

Mr.

Davis had evidently taken his coffee too strong that morning.

There was an east wind which always affected his neuralgia, and his pupils had not done him the credit which he felt he deserved.

Therefore, to use the expressive, if not elegant language of a schoolgirl, he was as nervous as a witch and as cross as a bear.

The word limes was like fire to powder.

His yellow face flushed and he wrapped on his desk with an energy which made Jenny skip to her seat with unusual rapidity.

Young ladies, attention, if you please.

At the stern order, the buz ceased, and 50 pairs of blue, black, gray and brown eyes were obediently fixed upon his awful countenance.

Miss March, come to the desk.

And he rose to comply with outward composure.

But a secret fear oppressed her, for the limes weighed upon her conscience.

Bring with you the limes you have in your desk, was the unexpected command which arrested her before she got out of her seat.

Don't take all, whispered her neighbor, a young lady of great presence of mind.

Amy hastily shook out half a dozen and laid the rest down before Mr.

Davis, feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relent when that delicious perfume met his nose.

Unfortunately, Mr.

Davis particularly detested the odor of the fashionable pickle, and disgust added to his wrath.

Is that all?

Not quite Stammered.

Amy Bring the rest immediately.

With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed.

You are sure there are no more?

I never lie, sir.

So I see.

Now take these disgusting things two by two and throw them out of the window.

There was a simultaneous sigh which created quite a little gust as the last hope fled and the treat was ravished from their longing lips scarlet with shame and anger, amy went to and fro six dreadful times and as each doomed couple looking, oh, so plump and juicy, fell from her reluctant hands.

A shout from the street completed the anguish of the girls, for it told them that their feast was being exalted over by the little Irish children who were sworn foes.

This was too much.

All flashed indignant or appealing glances at the inexorable Davis, and one passionate lime lover burst into tears.

As Amy returned from her last trip, mr.

Davis gave a and said in his most impressive manner young ladies, you remember what I said to you a week ago?

I'm sorry this has happened, but I never allow my rules to be infringed, and I never break my word.

Miss March, hold out your hand.

Amy started and put both hands behind her, turning on him an imploring look which pleaded for her better than the words she could not utter.

She was rather a favorite with old Davis, as of course he was called, and it's my private belief that he would have broken his word if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had not found vent in a hiss.

That hiss, faint as it was, irritated the irascible gentleman and sealed the culprit's fate.

Your hand, Miss Marge.

That's the only answer her mute appeal received.

And too proud to cry or beseech, Amy set her teeth, threw back her head defiantly and bore without flinching several tingling blows on her little palm.

They were neither many nor heavy, but that made no difference to her.

For the first time in her life she had been struck, and the disgrace in her eyes was as deep as if he had knocked her down.

You will now stand on the platform till recess, said Mr.

Davis, resolved to do the thing thoroughly since he had begun.

That was dreadful.

It would have been bad enough to go to her seat and see the pitying faces of her friends or the satisfied ones of her few enemies.

But to face the whole school with that shame fresh upon her seemed impossible.

And for a second, she felt as if she could only drop down where she stood and break her heart with crying.

A bitter sense of wrong and the thought of Jenny Snow helped her to bear it.

And taking the ignominious place, she fixed her eyes on the stow funnel above what now seemed to see of faces, and stood there so motionless and white that the girls found it very hard to study with that pathetic figure before them.

During the 15 minutes that followed, the proud and sensitive little girl suffered a shame and pain which she never forgot.

To others it might seem a ludicrous or trivial affair, but to her it was a hard experience, for during the twelve years of her life she had been governed by love alone, and a blow of that sort had never touched her before.

The smart of her hand and the ache of her heart were forgotten in the sting of the thought I shall have to tell it home.

And he will be so disappointed in me.

The 15 minutes seemed an hour, but they came to an end at last, and the word recess had never seemed so welcome to her before.

You can go, Miss March, said Mr Davis, looking as he felt uncomfortable.

He did not soon forget the reproachful glance Amy gave him as she went, without a word to anyone, straight into the anteroom, snatched her things and left the place forever, as she passionately declared to herself.

She was in a sad state when she got home, and when the older girls arrived sometime later, an indignation meeting was held at once.

Mrs March did not say much, but looked disturbed and comforted her afflicted little daughter in her tenderest manner.

Meg bathed the insulted hand with glycerin and tears.

Beth felt that even her beloved kittens would fail as a balm for griefs like this.

Joe wrathfully proposed that Mr Davis be arrested without delay, and Hannah shook her fist at the villain and pounded potatoes for dinner as if she had him under her pedestal.

No notice was taken of Amy's flight except by her mates, but the sharp eyed Moiselles discovered that Mr Davis was quite benign in the afternoon, also unusually nervous just before school closed.

Joe appeared wearing a grim expression as she stalked up to the desk and delivered a letter from her mother, then collected Amy's property and departed, carefully scraping the mud from her boots on the doormat as if she shook the dust of the place off her feet.

Yes, you can have a vacation from school, but I want you to study a little every day with Beth, said Mrs March that evening.

I don't approve of corporal punishment, especially for girls.

I dislike Mr Davis's manner of teaching and don't think the girls you associate with are doing you any good.

So I shall ask your father's advice before I send you anywhere else.

That's good.

I wish all the girls would leave and spoil his old school.

It's perfectly maddening to think of those lovely limes, sighed Amy with the air of a martyr.

I am not sorry you lost them, for you broke the rules and deserve some punishment for disobedience, was a severe reply, which rather disappointed the young lady, who expected nothing but sympathy.

Do you mean you are glad I was disgraced before the whole school?

Cried Amy.

I should not have chosen that way of mending a fault, replied her mother.

But I'm not sure that it won't do you more good than a milder method.

You are getting to be rather conceited, my dear, and it is quite time you set about correcting it.

You have a good many little gifts and virtues, but there's no need of parading them for conceit spoils the finest genius.

There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long, even if it is, the consciousness of possessing and using it well should satisfy one.

And the great charm of all power is modesty.

So it is.

Cried Lori, who was playing chess in a corner with Joe.

I knew a girl once who had a really remarkable talent for music, and she didn't know it.

Never guessed what sweet little thing she composed when she was alone, and wouldn't have believed it if anyone had told her.

I wish I'd known that nice girl.

Maybe she would have helped me.

I'm so stupid, said Beth, who stood beside him, listening eagerly.

You do know her, and she helps you better than anyone else could, answered Lori, looking at her with such mischievous meaning in his merry black eyes that Beth suddenly turned very red and hid her face in the sofa cushion.

Quite overcome by such an unexpected discovery, jo let Lori win the game to pay for that praise of her beth, who could not be prevailed upon to play for them after her compliment.

So Lori did his best and sung delightfully, being in a particularly lively humor for to the Marches.

He seldom showed the moody side of his character when he was gone.

Amy, who had been pensive all the evening, said suddenly, as if busy over some new idea, is Lori an accomplished boy?

Yes.

He has had an excellent education and as much talent.

He will make a fine man if not spoiled by petting, replied her mother.

And he isn't conceited, is he?

Asked Amy.

Not in the least.

That is why he's so charming and we all like him so much.

I see.

It's nice to have accomplishments and be elegant, but not to show off or get perked up, said Amy thoughtfully.

These things are always seen and felt in a person's manner in conversation, if modestly used.

But it is not necessary to display them, said Mrs.

March, any more than it's proper to wear all your bonnets and gowns and ribbons at once that folks may know you've got them, added Joe, and the lecture ended in a laugh.

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.

Don't forget to sign up for our newsletter@bytetimebooks.com and check out the shop.

You can check out the show notes or our website, byteathimebooks.com, for the rest of the links for our show.

We'd love to hear from you on.

Social media as well.

Take a look and look, and let's see what we can find.

Taking chapter by chapter?

One at a time?

So many adventures and mountains we can climb?

Take it word forward?

Line by line?

One bite at a time?