Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fifteen 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 15.

A telegram.

November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year, said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frost bitten garden.

That's the reason I was born in it, observed Joe Pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose.

If something very pleasant should happen now, we should think it a delightful month, said Beth, who took a hopeful view of everything.

Even November, I dare say.

But nothing pleasant ever does happen in this family, said Meg, who was out of sorts.

We go grubbing long, day after day, without a bit of change and very little fun.

We might as well be in a treadmill.

My patience, how blue we are.

Cried Joe.

I don't much wonder, poor dear, for you see other girls having splendid times while you grind, grind year in and year out.

Oh, don't I wish I could manage things for you as I do for my heroines.

You're pretty enough and good enough already, so I'd have some rich relation leave you a fortune unexpectedly, then you'dash out as an heiress, scorn everyone who has slighted you, go abroad and come home, my lady, something in a blaze of splendor and elegance.

People don't have fortunes left them in that style nowadays.

Men have to work and women to marry for money.

It's a dreadfully, unjust world, said Meg bitterly joe and I are going to make fortunes for you all.

Just wait ten years and see if we don't, said Amy, who sat in a corner making mud pies as Hannah called her little clay.

Models of birds, fruit and faces can't wait, and I'm afraid I haven't much faith in ink and dirt, though I'm grateful for your good intentions.

Meg sighed and turned to the frost bitten garden again.

Joe groaned and leaned both elbows on the table in a despondent attitude, but Amy spatted away energetically, and Beth, who sat at the other window, said, smiling, two pleasant things are going to happen right away.

Marmie is coming down the street, and Lori is tramping through the garden as if he had something nice to tell, and they both came.

Mrs marched with her usual question any letter from Father, girls?

And Lori to say in his persuasive way, won't some of you come for a drive?

I've been working away at mathematics till my head is in a muddle, and I'm going to freshen my wits by a brisk turn.

It's a dull day, but the air isn't bad, and I'm going to take Brooke home, so it'll be gay inside if it isn't out.

Come, Joe.

You and Beth will go, won't you?

Of course we will.

Much obliged, but I'm busy.

And Meg whisked out her work basket, for she had agreed with her mother that it was best for her at least not to drive often with the young gentleman.

We three will be ready in a minute, cried Amy, running away to wash her hands.

Can I do anything for you, madam?

Mother?

Asked Lori, leaning over Mrs.

March's chair with the affectionate look and tone he always gave her.

No, thank you, except call at the office, if you'll be so kind, dear.

It's our day for a letter, and the postman hasn't been.

Father is as regular as the son, but there's some delay on the way.

Perhaps a sharp ring interrupted her, and a minute after, Hannah came in with a letter.

It's one of them horrid telegraph things, Mum, she said, handing it as if she was afraid it would explode and do some damage.

At the word telegraph, Mrs.

March snatched it, read the two lines it contained, and dropped back into her chair, as white as if the little paper had sent a bullet to her heart.

Lori dashed downstairs for water while Meg and Hannah supported her, and Joe read aloud in a frightened voice, mrs.

March, your husband is very ill.

Come at once.

S.

Hale Blank Hospital, Washington how still the room was as they listened breathlessly, how strangely the day darkened outside, and how suddenly the whole world seemed to change.

As the girls gathered about their mother, feeling as if all the happiness and support of their lives was about to be taken from them.

Mrs.

March was herself again directly read the message over and stretched out her arms to her daughters sang in a tone they never forgot.

I shall go at once, but it may be too late.

Oh, children, children, help me to bear it.

For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of sobbing in the room, mingled with broken words of comfort, tender assurances of help and hopeful whispers that died away in tears.

Poor Hannah was the first to recover, and with unconscious wisdom she set all the rest a good example, for with her work was the panacea for most afflictions the Lord keep the dear man.

I won't waste no time a crying, but get your things ready.

Right away, mum, she said heartily as she wiped her face on her apron, gave her mistress a warm shake of the hand with her own hard one, and went away to work like three women in one.

She's right.

There's no time for tears.

Now, be calm, girls, and let me think.

They tried to be calm, poor things, as their mother sat up looking pale but steady, and put away her grief to think and plan for them.

Where's Lori?

She asked presently when she had collected her thoughts and decided on the first duties to be done.

Here, ma'am.

Oh, let me do something.

Cried the boy, hurrying from the next room.

Whither he had withdrawn, feeling that their first sorrow was too sacred for even his friendly eyes to see.

Send a telegram saying I'll come at once.

The next train goes early in the morning.

I'll take that.

What else?

The horses are ready.

I can go anywhere, do anything, he said, looking ready to fly to the ends of the earth.

Leave a note at Aunt Marches.

Joe, give me that pen and paper.

Tearing off the blank side of one of her newly copied pages, joe drew the table before her mother, well knowing that money for the long, sad journey must be borrowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father.

Now, go, dear, but don't kill yourself driving at a desperate pace.

There's no need of that.

Mrs.

March's warning was evidently thrown away, for five minutes later Lori tore by the window on his own fleet horse riding as if for his life.

Joe, run to the rooms and tell Mrs.

King that I can't come on the way.

Get these things.

I'll put them down.

They'll be needed and I must go prepared for nursing.

Hospital stores are not always good.

Beth, go and ask Mr.

Lawrence for a couple of bottles of old wine.

I'm not too proud to beg for Father.

He shall have the best of everything.

Amy, tell Hannah to get down the black trunk.

And Meg, come and help me find my things, for I'm half bewildered, writing, thinking and directing all at once might well bewilder the poor lady.

And Meg begged her to sit quietly in her room for a little while and let them work everyone scattered like leaves before a gust of wind and the quiet, happy household was broken up as suddenly as if the paper had been an evil spell.

Mr.

Lawrence came hurrying back with Beth, bringing every comfort the kindled gentleman could think of for the invalid and friendliest promises of protection for the girls during the mother's absence which comforted her very much.

There was nothing he didn't offer from his own dressing gown to himself its escort.

But that last was impossible.

Mrs.

March would not hear of the old gentleman's undertaking the long journey.

Yet an expression of relief was visible when he spoke of it.

For anxiety, ill fits, one for traveling.

He saw the look, knit his heavy eyebrows, rubbed his hands and marched abruptly away, saying he'd be back directly.

No one had time to think of him again, till as Meg ran through the entry with a pair of rubbers in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she came suddenly upon Mr.

Brooke.

I'm very sorry to hear of this, Miss March, he said in the kind, quiet tone which sounded very pleasantly to her perturbed spirit.

I came to offer myself as escort to your mother.

Mr.

Lawrence has commissions for me in Washington and it will give me real satisfaction to be of service to her there.

Down dropped the rubbers, and the tea was very near following as Meg put out her hand with a face so full of gratitude that Mr.

Brooke would have felt repaid for a much greater sacrifice than the trifling one of time and comfort which he was about to make.

How kind you all are.

Mother will accept, I'm sure.

And it will be such a relief to know that she has someone to take care of her.

Thank you very, very much.

Meg spoke earnestly and forgot herself entirely till something in the brown eyes looking down at her made her remember the cooling tea and led the way into the parlor, saying she would call her mother.

Everything was arranged by the time Lori returned with a note from Aunt March enclosing the desired sum and a few lines repeating what she had often said before that she had always told them it was absurd for March to go into the army, always predicted that no good would come of it and she hoped they would take her advice next time.

Mrs.

March put the note in the fire, the money in her purse and went on with her preparations with her lips folded tightly in a way which Jo would have understood if she had been there.

A short afternoon wore away.

All the other errands were done, and Meg and and her mother busy at some necessary needlework while Beth and Amy got tea and Hannah finished her ironing with what she called a slap and a bang.

But still Joe did not come.

They began to get anxious, and Lori went off to find her for no one ever knew what freak Joe might take into her head.

He missed her, however, and she came walking in with a very queer expression of countenance, for there was a mixture of fun and fear, satisfaction and regret in it, which puzzled the family as much as did the roll of bills she laid before.

Her.

Mother sang with a little choke in her voice, that's my contribution towards making Father comfortable in bringing him home, my dear.

Where did you get it?

$25.

Joe.

I hope you haven't done anything rash.

No, it's mine, honestly.

I didn't beg, borrow or steal it.

I earned it, and I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own.

As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.

Your hair.

Your beautiful hair.

Oh, Joe, how could you?

You're one beauty.

My dear girl, there was no need of this.

She doesn't look like my Jo anymore, but I love her dearly for it.

As everyone exclaimed and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, joe assumed an indifferent air which did not deceive anyone.

A particle instead rumpling up the brown bush and trying to look as if she liked it.

It doesn't affect the fate of the nation, so don't wail, Beth.

It'll be good for my vanity.

I was getting too proud of my wig.

It will do my brain's good to have that mop taken off my head feels deliciously light and cool.

And the barber said I could soon have a curly crop which will be boyish, becoming an easy to keep in order.

I'm satisfied, so please take the money and let's have supper.

Tell me all about it, Joe.

I am not quite satisfied, but I can't blame you, for I know how willingly you sacrificed your vanity, as you call it, to your love.

But, my dear, it was not necessary.

And I'm afraid you'll regret it one of these days, said Mrs.

March.

No, I won't, returned Joe stoutly, feeling much relieved that her prank was not entirely condemned.

What made you do it?

Asked Amy, who would as soon have thought of cutting off her head as her pretty hair.

Well, I was wild to do something for Father, replied Joe, as they gathered about the table, for healthy young people can eat even in the midst of trouble.

I hate to borrow as much as Mother does, and I knew Aunt March would croak.

She always does if you ask for a ninepence.

Meg gave all her quarterly salary toward the rent, and I only got some clothes with mine, so I felt wicked and was bound to have some money if I sold the nose off my face to get it.

You needn't feel wicked, my child.

You had no winter things and got the simplest with your own hard earnings, said Mrs.

March, with a look that warmed Joe's heart.

I hadn't the least idea of selling my hair at first, but as I went along I kept thinking what I could do and feeling as if I'd like to dive into some of the rich stores and help myself.

In a barber's window I saw tails of hair with the prices marked, and one black tail, not so thick as mine was $40.

It came over me all of a sudden that I had one thing to make money out of, and without stopping to think, I walked in, asked if they bought hair and what they would give for mine.

I don't see how you dared to do it, said Beth in a tone of awe.

Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil its hair.

He rather stared at first, as if he wasn't used to having girls bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair.

He said he didn't care about mine.

It wasn't the fashionable color, and he never paid much for it in the first place.

The work put into it made it dear and so on.

It was getting late, and I was afraid if it wasn't done right away that I shouldn't have it done at all.

And you know when I start to do a thing, I hate to give it up.

So I begged him to take it and told him why I was in such a hurry.

It was silly, I dare say, but it changed his mind, for I got rather excited and told the story in my topsy turvy way.

And his wife heard and said so kindly take it, Thomas, and obliged the young lady.

I'd do as much for our Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling.

Who is Jimmy?

Asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as they went along.

Her son, she said, who was in the army.

How friendly such things make strangers feel, don't they?

She talked away all the time.

The man clipped and diverted my mind nicely.

Didn't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?

Asked Meg with a shiver.

I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it.

I never snivel over Trifles like that.

I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table and felt only the short rough ends on my head.

It almost seemed as if I'd an arm or a leg off.

The woman saw me look at it and picked out a long lock for me to keep.

I'll give it to you, Marmi, just to remember past glories by, for a crop is so comfortable.

I don't think I shall ever have a mane again.

Mrs.

March folded the wavy chestnut lock and laid it away with a short gray one in her desk.

She only said, thank you, dearie, but something in her face made the girls change the subject and talk as cheerfully as they could about Mr.

Brooks'kindness, the prospect of a fine day tomorrow and the happy times they would have when Father came home to be nursed.

No one wanted to go to bed when, at 10:00, Mrs.

March put by the last finished job and said, come, girls.

Beth went to the piano and played the father's favorite hymn.

All began bravely, but broke down one by one, till Beth was left alone, singing with all her heart, for to her music was always a sweet consoler.

Go to bed and don't talk, for we must wake up early and shall need all the sleep we can get.

Good night, my darlings, said Mrs.

March as the hymn ended, for no one cared to try another.

They kissed her quietly and went to bed as silently as if the dear invalid lay in the next room.

Beth and Amy soon fell asleep in spite of the great trouble.

But Meg lay awake, thinking the most serious thoughts she had ever known in her short life.

Jo lay motionless, and her sister fancied that she was asleep till a stifled sob made her exclaim as she touched a wet cheek.

Joe, dear, what is it?

Are you crying about Father?

No, not now.

What then?

My my hair burst out.

Poor Joe, trying vainly to smother her emotion in the pillow.

It did not sound at all comical to Meg, who kissed and caressed the afflicted heroine in the tenderest manner.

I'm not sorry, protested Joe with a choke.

I'd do it again tomorrow if I could.

It's only the vain, selfish part of me that goes and cries in this silly way.

Don't tell anyone.

It's all over now.

I thought you were asleep, so I just made a little private moan for my one beauty.

How came you to be awake?

I can't sleep, I'm so anxious, said Meg.

Think about something pleasant and you'll soon drop off.

I tried it, but felt wider awake than ever.

What did you think of handsome faces?

Eyes particularly, answered Meg, smiling to herself in the dark.

What color do you like best?

Brown.

That is, sometimes blue are lovely.

Joe laughed, and Meg sharply ordered her not to talk.

Then amiably promised to make her hair curl and fell asleep to dream of living in her castle in the air.

The clocks were striking midnight, and the rooms were very still, as a figure glided quietly from bed to bed, smoothing a cover lid here, settling a pillow there, and pausing to look long and tenderly at each unconscious face, to kiss each with lips that mutely blessed, and to pray the fervent prayers which only mothers utter.

As she lifted the curtain to look out into the dreary night, the moon broke suddenly from behind the clouds and shone upon her like a bright beignant face which seemed to whisper in the silence be comforted, dear soul.

There is always light behind the clouds.

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 Carlisle 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 bytetimebooks.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 in a book and let's see what we can find.